{"id":101567,"date":"2016-08-18T10:47:23","date_gmt":"2016-08-18T14:47:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=101567"},"modified":"2016-08-18T10:47:23","modified_gmt":"2016-08-18T14:47:23","slug":"shanghai-1962","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/08\/18\/shanghai-1962\/","title":{"rendered":"Shanghai 1962"},"content":{"rendered":"

How my mother\u2019s accordion led to a chance encounter in Mao\u2019s China.<\/em><\/p>\n

\"wei-tchou\"<\/a><\/p>\n

For years my parents have told me about a photograph that shows my mother shaking hands with Zhou Enlai, the first premier of China under Mao Zedong. The photograph was taken in 1962, four years before the Cultural Revolution began, but it was lost until a few weeks ago, when a barrage of Instagram notifications, texts, e-mails, and WeChat messages alerted me that the picture had been found. It had turned up on Facebook, of all places, in a post detailing the history of my mother\u2019s grade school in Shanghai. (A point of recent pride: Yao Ming, the basketball player, was a student at the same school, albeit decades later). An aunt of mine who lives in Hong Kong forwarded the picture to my father, who then distributed it across the Internet.<\/p>\n

In the picture, my mother is fourteen. Her hair is in a low ponytail and she has an accordion strapped over her shoulders. She wears a checked knee-length skirt, a white blouse, white ankle socks, and Mary Janes. Several rows of Chinese flags fly in the background; in front of these stand many smiling girls holding bouquets of flowers. All eyes in the picture are on Zhou Enlai as he grips my mother\u2019s hand. He\u2019s tall and handsome, in a Mao suit and strappy sandals. Her smile is easy and uncalculated, bordering on surprise.<\/p>\n

When I called my mother last weekend, to ask for the story behind the picture, she told me she had been part of Shanghai\u2019s official welcoming committee. She was one of dozens of students who were dispatched to sing for visiting foreign officials and had been chosen in part because she was only one of the few students who owned and could play an instrument.<\/p>\n

That day in 1962, she and the rest of the band had been summoned to greet the Somalian prime minister Abdirashid Ali Shermarke. Normally my mother only saw Chinese and incoming diplomats from afar, but when Shermarke\u2019s plane was delayed, Zhou came around to greet the crowd.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wasn\u2019t afraid,\u201d Ma said. \u201cZhou had this very approachable presence, and he came right up to me. At the time, the Chinese felt like Zhou was the real workhorse of the party. He was visible and often out with citizens in public. Unlike Mao, for example, who we all felt was untouchable, like a god.\u201d My mother said that she wasn\u2019t the first in line, and there wasn\u2019t anything remarkable about where she was standing. Invoking a Chinese expression for having great luck, she said about the meeting, \u201cI guess my forehead is just tall.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ma said that Zhou asked her whether many of her peers wore glasses. \u201cWhen I said that about half of them did, he shook his head and said myopia was a real problem among grade-school students. Then he noticed we were all standing in a puddle\u2014it must have rained before he arrived that day. He told us to move a few paces over, to where it was dry, so we did. We all felt moved that such a high-ranking official would care about such proletarian details.\u201d<\/p>\n

The photograph is remarkable for existing at all. During the Cultural Revolution, my grandmother ripped up even her own wedding photographs, fearing retribution from the Communists for holding onto sentimental portraits of the past. As a result, I have almost no record of what anyone in my family looked like in their youth, before they moved to the United States, save for a couple of photo albums that were smuggled out of the country. I\u2019ve committed the few family pictures that survived to memory. Ever since this photograph arrived in my inbox, I\u2019ve spent a few moments every day studying my mother\u2019s stance, her outstretched arm, her smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe Zhou picked me because I looked pretty cute,\u201d Ma said.<\/p>\n

We laughed, and then Ba wrestled the phone from my mother\u2019s hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe was a bad man,\u201d my father said of Zhou. \u201cThink of all the people he killed. Your mother may sound proud now, but she isn\u2019t telling you that she wasn\u2019t able to go to college because of Zhou Enlai.\u201d In 1966, four years after the photo was taken, China shut down all of its schools, asserting that young minds should be educated in the real world instead of in the classroom. My mother was part of the first class of students who weren\u2019t able to go to university. Instead, they were sent to factories or to the countryside to work.<\/p>\n

I heard my mother protesting in the background. She retrieved the phone.<\/p>\n

\u201cI never said he did any good! I just said that, back then, this felt like such a big deal,\u201d she said. \u201cThat\u2019s why I said he\u2019s not a great man, he is just a famous one.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI just wanted you to get both sides of the story!\u201d I heard my father say.<\/p>\n

I asked my mother if, at the time of the photo, she\u2019d ever thought she\u2019d live in America someday.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, of course not,\u201d she said, laughing. \u201cYou\u2019d be arrested for even thinking about it! I was the last one of my sisters who had any interest in leaving China. And yet.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

\n

Wei Tchou is a member of\u00a0<\/em>The New Yorker\u2019s\u00a0editorial staff and\u00a0is one of the\u00a0<\/em><\/em>Daily\u2019s correspondents.<\/em><\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

How my mother\u2019s accordion led to a chance encounter in Mao\u2019s China. For years my parents have told me about a photograph that shows my mother shaking hands with Zhou Enlai, the first premier of China under Mao Zedong. The photograph was taken in 1962, four years before the Cultural Revolution began, but it was […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":992,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[22700],"tags":[276,9090,189,1815,6037,3156,23980,23975,951,8226,23978,23976,2861,3273,331,16299,6493,18616,3161,100,23979,20600,23977,13141,22695],"class_list":["post-101567","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-our-correspondents","tag-1960s","tag-black-and-white","tag-children","tag-china","tag-chinese","tag-communism","tag-communists","tag-cultural-revolution-zhou-enlai","tag-facebook","tag-family","tag-handshake","tag-historic-moment","tag-history","tag-hong-kong","tag-internet","tag-lost-and-found","tag-mao","tag-mao-zedong","tag-photographs","tag-photography","tag-pride","tag-shanghai","tag-snapshot","tag-students","tag-wei-tchou"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nHow My Mother\u2019s Accordion Led to a Chance Encounter in Mao\u2019s 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