1 Watching the Tree to Catch a Hare

      

SHOU ZHU DAI TU

      My grandfather (Ye Ye) and I shared a rapport that neither of us ever verbalised during his lifetime. He was a businessman but was more interested in books than money. As a little girl in Shanghai, I spent hours playing by myself on the balcony attached to his room. Through the French windows I could see him practising calligraphy, writing letters or consulting the I Ching. Sometimes, he would let me ‘help’ him make fresh ink by grinding the ink-stick on an antique stone slab left to him by his father. I did not inherit Ye Ye’s artistic talent and was in awe of his shu fa

      As the youngest stepdaughter in a Chinese family of seven children, I knew I was unwanted and considered by my family to be the lowest of the low. At home, my misery filled my whole world. It was real and deep and I could see no way out, possessing neither the wisdom nor the cynicism to blunt the cruelty and the constant rejection.

      When I was ten, my stepmother Niang separated me from my aunt, whom I dearly loved, and placed me in a succession of Catholic boarding schools. I was unaware that all my mail (both incoming and outgoing) was being sent to my parents for censoring. I only knew that I never heard from my aunt or anyone else for the next four years.

      During that time I had nobody but my grandfather. Although I was only allowed ‘home’ on three separate occasions, I treasured those brief visits. I did not know then how vital they were to my emotional and spiritual development.

      The Swedish psychologist Eric Ericson wrote of a sense of basic trust, which is instilled in a child by ‘somebody who cares’, without which the child cannot live and dies mentally. This ‘basic trust’ was what my Ye Ye gave to me at that crucial juncture. During the many years when I was isolated in the boarding school in Hong Kong, I was sustained only by my inner conviction that my Ye Ye loved me. At times, things were very bad. My stepmother had a way of making me feel like nothing; a piece of garbage to be thrown away. But, through it all, the thought of my Ye Ye would return and revive my spirits at odd moments. Deep inside, I knew I mattered to