WHEN we finally arrived home, the whole town learned about the ordeal. My mother was deeply concerned about the trauma’s psychological effects on me. She hugged me tight and tried to comfort me, making me forget what happened.

    At an early age, I experienced what it was to live in a foreign land and felt strongly about being a “foreigner.” Everybody in the family was insecure. In this foreign land, we just tried to survive.

    In mid-autumn of that year, my mother gave birth to a new baby girl, Sandy. The whole family was very happy. The whole town was happy, and the community shared the family’s joy.

    But the happiness was short-lived. One day, my father and some of his friends were arrested by the local authorities. The police took my father away to Burma’s second largest city—Madeley—as a “political prisoner.” He and his associates were placed under “house arrest” in the old Royal Palace, whose walls were some 20 feet high.

    Without a husband, life for my mother became very difficult. With little financial support, she had to feed and take care of four teenage children and a newborn baby.

    But my mother was strong willed. She tried her best to boost our morale. I never saw her cry, even in extreme difficult situations.

    She did not make us quit school. She constantly reminded us that “Daddy will be home soon.”

    My father was released from jail after six months. The Burmese government couldn’t charge him with anything illegal. He was merely a teacher, an educator. He was not a criminal.

    I knew many local officers didn’t like my father for organizing a Chinese school. They thought the school would create “cultural difficulties” in the community.

    The family welcomed my father’s return from prison with jubilation. It was some kind of reunion for the Lee family.

    But my father was not happy. He was depressed because he thought his family had suffered because of him. His morale was very law. He seemed to us like he was a different person that we’ve known.

    At that time, I was just a little over ten years old. I tried to make him smile. To make him happy, I brought him good grades from school.

    Ever concerned with his children’s welfare, my father decided to send me to a bigger city to study. He said the present surrounding was not the best for a growing boy like me.

    My father sent me to Rangoon, Burma’s capital city, to further my studies.

    For the first time in my life, I was going far away, leaving my family behind, to live independently by myself.

    I remember my first day in the new school. When he left the campus, I started to cry. I didn’t want him to leave.

    So for the next six years I was left alone to fend for myself. I was now a “grown-up boy” trying to figure out how to live by himself in a big city far away from home.

    But life in Rangoon was made easier with the thought that my father sent me away to study in a big school so that I would become “somebody” one day.

    My father wrote me letters in Chinese every week. He reminded me to study hard to keep good grades, to behave, and to respect my teachers and classmates. He wrote me a lot of Confucian teachings.

    I also wrote to my parents every week to report about school and how I was.

    I also wrote to friends, who told me about how my parents worked very hard so they could support my education. I learned about how they maintained the local school so that more Chinese can be educated properly.

    My father was acknowledged as a “community leader” for his dedication to serve the community and for public service.

    It was in the early sixties. Burma was taken over by a military dictator, Ne Win.

    “All the $100 bills will now be useless,” he announced. The whole country was to be “socialized,” and the local authorities would take over all private businesses.

    Overnight, many foreigners, including Chinese, Indians and other ethnic groups, lost their business and properties. My family’s business was not spared.

    One day I received a telegram from my father telling me to go home. I felt the urgency, so I was home the next day.

    We had a family meeting, and we decided to leave Burma for Taiwan, thousands of miles away.

    My father had a relative in Taiwan. His relative to help us get a visa.

    Soon we got admitted to Taiwan, and everybody was ready to leave, except my elder sister, Lily, who was now married and had to stay behind.

    The family left Rangoon with high hopes for a better life.  We knew there will be new challenges, but these will be different. It will be a new life in a new world for the Lee family.

    This was the second time my parents had to escape tyrannical rule, in search for a better life for us all.

    We knew our struggle in a foreign land was over. Taiwan was the place all of us hoped could turn our future. After all, we were Chinese, so Taiwan should be the correct choice for the entire family.

(To be continued)