My father-in-law tells a sad story. As a young man in Taiwan his family were poor. His prospects were not good; he was not a student. He was, though, strong, hard-working, virile. As a teenager he had served in a support role for the Imperial Japanese Navy. The loss of those precious years in futile support of an aggressive military that held him in institutional disrespect simply because he was Chinese and a resident of an island held in colonial thrall, removed any opportunity of further education and fixed his future path: his strong back was going to be the foundation of his life.
But there was, possibly, an alternative future for my father-in-law in those tumultuous years. World War II may have ended but the Chinese Civil War rumbled on until the end of the 1940’s when the remnants of Chiang Kai Shek’s legions fled the mainland with their treasures. The choice that was offered my father-in-law was one sometimes available to poor families with too many sons; one might have to be ‘married out’. In Taiwan in those days, and even recently, wealthy families with a single girl child might arrange a marriage for a daughter (mostly those less attractive) with a presentable but ‘economically challenged’ young man who would agree to marry the daughter and take on her family name, thus ensuring that property stayed in the name of the girl’s family. It served the purposes of the wife’s family but for the young man it meant a loss of face; it was a humiliation.
Pride was more important to him than riches so my father-in-law ran away from home. He left without a single penny, took a train to Taipei and wandered the streets for three days, without a place to sleep, with no food, only water.
By the end of the third day, his pride was no longer the most important ingredient in his character: remorse, loneliness and, especially, hunger had moved to the front of the line. My father-in-law decided to return to the south of the island and face the music. Sadly, the southern train run was not as loosely policed as the northern and the father of my wife was apprehended and taken to the railway police office before the train ever left Taipei station. This time, however, luck, even just a little bit, favored him. The duty officer took a look at him and asked, kindly, if he was hungry. In answer, my father-in-law could only nod. He wolfed down the bowl of cheap noodles that the duty officer ordered one of him men to bring. Afterwards, he led him to the next train south and put him on it; even ticketless, which he remained, he was now certain to get back home without more incident; it was clear to everyone that my father-in-law was traveling under the protection of the duty officer of the railway police and no one would dare interfere with his will!
By the time he did get back home, tempers had abated and my future father-in-law was welcomed home, given more food and no more was ever said about him ‘marrying out’. I think it worked out – I ended up with the woman I love but for him, for my father-in-law, I’ve never been sure whether any marriage at all suited him. Perhaps he should have stayed on the train, riding up and down, across the island from North to South.
