So the last post got me thinking about my beloved grandpa and the extraordinary life he has had. My mother has always said he is a great man in every sense of the word - intelligent, compassionate, responsible, but most of all resilient. In his 79 years he has been through more trials and tribulations than I could imagine, and his story has been an inspiration to me for so many years. Grandpa, here, I will attempt to tell your life story. I know you will always be a source of strength for me in the many years to come.
My grandpa was born in 1932 in a small village on the outskirts of Yancheng, in the northern part of China's Jiangsu province. His family, the Yin clan, were descended from China's first prime minister - a great statesman who lived thousands of years ago. Grandpa came from a family of scholars, but by his father's generation, they were living in extreme poverty and had to make their livelihood through farming. My great grandfather was a school teacher and one of the most educated men in the village, but he could only afford to send the eldest son to school. Grandpa, who was the second child, was denied an education and woke at the crack of dawn to work in the rice fields. Perhaps he would have simply become one of China's nine hundred million farmers, but everything changed when the Japanese invaded.
The Japanese invasion has a devastating effect on China, but particularly on Jiangsu province. It's capital, Nanjing, was ravaged after a massacre which left three hundred thousand corpses on it's ancient streets. Grandpa's village was not spared. The family lost everything and became refugees. My great grandmother would not eat for days in order to save food for her husband and children, and the family lived in constant fear of death as the Japanese occupied surrounding areas.
At age eleven, Grandpa decided he had to do something. He joined the local anti-Japanese resistance movement and began risking his life to help the Chinese forces. He would stand at the village gate, be on the lookout for any signs of the enemy, and alert the guerillas if anything was abnormal. The guerillas, under the leadership of the communists, eventually sent him to school. It was here that he received a high school education. After the war was won against the Japanese, Grandpa worked in the communist party's intelligence department as a code breaker. By this time, he was a firm believer in Mao and communism. The party had given him an education, built schools in the area, and defeated the Japanese. Despite Mao's later wrongdoings, Grandpa remains grateful to him, even today.
Grqndpa's talents were soon noticed by his superiors. Not only was he extremely a brilliant code breaker, he also possessed sharp writing skills. It was decided then that he would be transferred to Beijing to be trained as a journalist for the newly established national news agency. In Beijing, Grandpa began a career in journalism spanning 45 years. In 1957 he married my grandmother, a former classmate, and raised my mother and aunt in a tiny two bedroom apartment in the Haidian district. Although his salary was meagre, Grandpa was determined to send every single on of his five younger siblings to school. Each month, the family lived on pickled vegetables and rice while Grandpa sent 70% of his salary back home to his sisters for their school fees. Thanks to his dedication, his sisters are all professors in prestigious universities today.
When the cultural revolution hit, the family was thrown into chaos. Grandpa and grandma were intellectuals and therefore suffered tremendously in the new system where books were spit upon. Grandma lost her job as an editor and was sent to the countryside for "reeducation", where she toiled in the fields. Grandpa was thrown into jail. Their two young children were left alone in Beijing. Although grandma would soon return, grandpa was imprisoned for over three years, during which time he wrote weekly letters to my mother and aunt encouraging them to live life with hope and happiness. My mother often says she cannot imagine a better father than her own.
1978 came, and finally Grandpa was reinstated. He returned to work with the same enthusiasm and dedication. As a foreign correspondent he was one of the first people to visit the west after the revolution ended.To this day he would tell me stories of his time in France, Congo, Indonesia, and various other places. In 1994 he retired with honors and spent most of his time with his only grandchild, me. Teaching me everything he knew and loved, Grandpa taught me to recite poems and write calligraphy, fly kites and play chess.
These days, Grandpa's love for chess has reached new heights. He travels around the country to attend senior chess competitions, frequently winning and bringing home weird and wonderful prizes ranging from a rice cooker to a large duck. Grandpa gave me the rice cooker, so I could "still be Chinese in America", and set the duck free.
This concludes his story. It may seem ordinary, but his life has been intrinsically linked to the tides of Chinese history. Knowing the sacrifices he had made to bring the family where we are today, sometimes I feel like one thought motivates me through life more than any other - to make my grandpa proud.
