Soochow Creek A dream to recollect that, in the midst of crises fraught with grand possibilities, I aspired in vain to hold a tight pull upon the reins my soul-stirring traits; with no less than the chivalrous attitude of a soldier of fortune caught in the epoch-making episodes of our days, this has always been as to what I am so apt to relish; in my longing to be a part of; to actually make myself more than a bit player in the historic importance events of my age; to be able to fully submerse myself into the this all-absorbing sea of commercial greatness; to be a true agent; to march off with an army driven by the spirits of our times. It is in this spirit of our modern times that I so have sought and so envision as this well expressed sense of being able to touch towards the very edge of heroic efforts and grand deeds of bravery in which the legends of the Trojan wars were chronicled by Homer; which really were characterized by some of the darkest features of oriental treachery, a master-stroke; no less than, my evidently blinding to the futility of my grail search and I am sure that it’s failure will be due in no small part to my love of the heroes of antiquity… This now strikes me as somewhat rather odd, as these were, really, they were the narrow goat paths’ where; in this time of great trouble, chaos and the seeming awaiting dangers of a most fowl and evil death; it seems odd that at that very moment when it was the fulfillment of my life long quest; that what my inner most thoughts were journeying down and about on; had nothing to do with the heroic aspirations that I had always sworn myself to follow up on; as I stood watching the sun fade into the mist of time along the narrow beach of Soochow Creek - which I always loved maybe due to its peculiar feature of being near the sea. It was then that it dawned upon me that everything up to this very moment had merely been an instance of the proverbial mountains in Labour to produce a sorry mouse, here along some backwater canals to the south of the Yangtze-kiang; here on this very fateful night; June 18th, 1900; with all the wild rumours; spreading amongst the ranks of the International Zone; of the rumours of the grand, old Empress Dowager ordering that all foreign devils, like myself; that we all should be hunted down; put to the sword; to be killed all in her dream visioned path from the ancient oracles that spoke of their messages from the ancient Emperors; in her dream she was given her own path to save China and with saving China; she could vanquish the tide of time and restore China and it’s long, ten thousand years of culture back to its righteous place as the center of the universe and once more re-establish the Chinese’s role as the true descents of GOD… In a mystical way, as our Christian Readers would be able to relate; She could restore Eden by merely killing the snake and destroying the tree of knowledge…as to her and many of her millions of loyal followers; it was that easy…the Empress had been given the special gift to understand dreams as a small child and who amongst her kingdom would call her out as a liar on such a fundamental point of her relationship as the kingdom’s steward…the vicar of God? I did…but; I am a foreign devil…and that is what I saw in the upraising and… This evening, along the banks of the Soochow Creek; I carried the baggage of my early support of the boxers and their expiring pleads for basic human suffrage. It would be a long twisting path forward to the final establishment of the Republic; that along the Soochow; as the darkness of time swallowed the last remaining rays of the sun and with it the world that I had known for the past ten years; since arriving young and freshly wet behind my ears at the docks of the grand business port of the Shanghai on that bright, cloudless day that by closing my eyes I can...that I could even then, revisit again...again...without even the slightest gap or fade of the true colours of that very day, I can clearly hear each of the sounds and I can seem the smell of the opportunities that I dreamed all my early years on and were there, at gangplank and dock; awaiting my departure down from the quarter deck of the HMS Brandy. Over the passing year; the coastal plains had been ravaged by what seemed to be an endless wave of inundation caused by typhoons; and no less disastrous were the floods after heavy rain. The destruction of crops led to famine and riot, the granaries being sometimes stormed, and once it was rumoured in blood red headlines of the local papers of even children in remote, un-named mountain villages; were devoured by parents. This was the age, golden, gilded; that the annals of the alarming satires from which the Flowers of Shanghai were written; this was at a critical moment in time, a magical place where when a fleeting smile from a passing huayanjian could bring even the strongest of men to the edge of their very ruin with it promenaded down the boulevard run a wild with all the wild, mad illusions of love that even a mere passing nod could seduce you to partake in and that, but in true fact; would forever be relished as a long after thought and sometime treasured story to recant as an old man at the back of the pub with all of the added, explicit references to doing ones business, words which were in reality; starkly missing and absent from the original tale. Time embellishes much as it does in this tale along the banks of the Soochow Creek. There is a practical aura to living in, as my Chinese friends would remind me; interesting time; even in the midst of battle, there is always that sense of refrain, reserved politeness; a civility that so greatly lacking amongst us in the West... I actually have given this much thought...not so much...here tonight...but; I have tried to reason it and to explore its meanings - as I truly believe if I could be so enlightened, if I could merely crack this code; I might have a better understanding my path that lead me from the creaky old dock in Shanghais ancient port, through all my grand adventures, trails and even to my regrets and here tonight...along the banks of Soochow Creek; resting upon the cool river sands; awaiting for God to turn the evening lights of the stars and the moon on... Funny that I mention that? I may be a little daft and as my Amerikan friends would say crazy like an ole hound...but; I truly wonder looking now at the full night sky; if one of those many points of distant light we call stars; that if there are other civilizations that know how to do business, and if they had the benshi to make good for themselves... If this story can be assigned a symbolic purpose in some later year or decade to come, moreover, I am thinking that it sole purpose might end up being to show how we can supposedly achieve lasting harmony with our extended stay in China. There is a popular saying in Shanghai; You got off cheap; maybe that will be our mantra, the logo by which we will confession or dismiss out current trial and maybe it might be our lasting resolution, the requiems of how all of our sins drove us to react in a convincingly desperate fashion, in which we find ourselves along the banks of Soochow Creek on a very bright, starlit night... Maybe instead; we shall elect to recall and not recant how many tender feelings and loving words may have passed between us in these past years here in China or maybe we will be remember by history not as great men of adventure, in either our thoughts, deeds nor purposes; but mere recalled and repackaged as yet another Zhao Puzhai stranded in the seamless raffle of time marching forward... It has been said; that it is most surly impossible to ignore the alternative path that logically, practically preaches for one to restart the clock; with which they further argue at gentlemens clubs, that this serves the grand purpose, that it is designed to performs the very function of God Misery and allow us to claim just salvation and apply for a holy redemption by blanking out and dissolving all of overblown fantasies regarding the need of assurance towards our place in pages the future history of our time; whether in obsessive men or hysterical women seeking meaning and an endearing sense of belonging to their time instead of being yet another bystander, lost to time and the future because they cast their lot with the endless sea of onlookers and voyeurs that loiter about and who made no difference. Here and now; it is crystallizing image that; ruefully; I have not got a clue...I can only do so much, even if I have the talent and even if I can make good for myself; what do I Have; another interesting tale to bore people, friend and strangers with? Maybe to say that I am still too young and naive. They may someday say; How could he have believed all of the promises that eagerly awaited him at the docks in Shanghai and waved, encouraged him and shouted him row come ashore. Maybe; we all are Flowers of Shanghai and as we are caught up relishing, savoring this moment as our deciding moment served up to us by fate and history; maybe, it will not matter; the dawn will break and we shall be cast up on to the dustbin of rememberings… regardless of what we did here at Soochow Creek… A quick, scouting survey up and down and along the banks of Soochow creek was reassuring to the point that the major of our small group had come through the flight but; it was also clear that many who had not taken to flight and we could only fear for the terrible fate that overwhelmed them back in the city... It is a common remark, statement of true fact; that Shanghais manners and customs underwent a great change through contact with us foreigners; long chronicled, documented as true, proven fact; while my own personal experiences would seem to cast doubts that this was such a one-sided affair as the empress would elect us all to believe or that by our forcible eviction; our elimination would return China back to its purest self and thus as the Empress would have us to blindly accept; again make China great instead of being the sick, sad little man (in her case: woman) of Asia Proper; I would if I were ever given a chance; I would argue that it has been a two way street and for whatever reason; I always had a deep felt belief that this would in some way protect me; that it dully serve as a shield against, a time as such we now find ourselves in; when an ancient...cultured civilization turning their long knives upon me...us…the world… Sad; how reason plays no part in human affairs and because of this; I am but one of this sad, small grouping that had the foresight to elected to drop everything and to flee; to leave the city as the Boxers entered. Diffusing amongst the literati lucid, they will someday…admirably write treatises on these subjects and the events of our present circumstances; truthfully, I boldly tell you that I am but a hack...a rube that was bought into the con and as I sit here and scribble these disordered and unnumbered pages of this journal...at least, I may survive to at least have a better reflection and a great recall the truths and honesty which has become an almost unknown, and in law-suits perjury is the order of our day, our age and time; even...here...now...my mind is not on if I will survive this event or even if I will be still here come dawn; but, my mind rushes far further into what has not come yet and I am already keeping this impromptu journal for the sole purpose of future lawsuits and litigations... Off in Siu Kuang-ki at Sikawei, there is an ancient Ming Wall Carving that translated into English as embrace the earth; through the hundreds of generations that have passed since this was craved; there for a thousand years or more it sat; in a peach garden with rockeries, arcades, and ponds surrounded by a hedge of cypress trees; there it stood to convey a message that is still lost upon me today but; seemed important enough to me that I wrote it down and I still care it neatly, properly folded in my personal belonging; somehow, maybe this new adventure; who knows...maybe this will be my salvation or the curse that lies me to rest so very far from my childhood home. Up over the river banks ridge; I can hear Doctor Paul as well as Paul Siu; both men well known and respected by the foreign community for the great depth of their knowledge and understanding of the locals that most of us will never achieve...though a ways from me...I can hear them argue about the best resource...which path to take and even, I hear Paul Siu lay the promise to our deliverance in our hour of our most auspicious time of trail along the banks of Soochow Creek... It was then I stepped forward at Doctor Pauls request for several volunteers to make our way back to the city and the international armada of warships that we could see stream into Shanghais great harbor before Paul Siu pleaded with us to leave late in the day from what we thought the fortress of the International Zone and long before we could see and hear the masses of Boxer rebels surging through the checkpoints; mindlessly surging into the boulevards, streets and alley ways seeking out foreign devils and without thinking; would out apparent though or hesitation; they started to hack, cut and stab, innocent passersby’s; who were merely going about their everyday chores...with police and army resting in their barracks; we made our dash to freedom and the momentary safety of nightfall at Soochow Creek... Again Dr. Paul asked for several volunteers to make their way back to the harbour and dispatch help back to the huddled, this ragged mass of all of us, the flowers of Shanghai; its adopted children... I will leave this journal with Paul Siu and retrieve it upon my return with assistant from the staging, foreign commitment that lay in wait; just off shore...till then; I shall close... - EMIL
Posted on: Sun, 03 Nov 2013 20:54:55 +0000
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