MY family left Burma one early spring in the 1960s. I can’t remember the exact year, but I know we left empty-handed because the Burmese government, which had adopted the so-called “nationalization” policy, confiscated all that we had.

We left Rangoon, Burma’s capital, with “nation-less” passports. Burma was the first country that Communist China established diplomatic ties with, so Burma had no diplomatic relations with Taiwan, where Chiang Kai-Shiek fled to establish his nationalist government after fleeing China.

Many of our friends discouraged us from going to Taiwan. They said the tiny island would soon be taken over by Communist China. Also, there was political uncertainty at that time. There was tension in the region. After the Korean War, the United States considered China as its number one enemy. Many American lives were lost in the Korean War.

China became angrier at Taiwan when U.S. President Harry Truman mobilized the Seventh Fleet to protect the tiny island. The U.S. government gave Taiwan not only military aid but also economic aid. The Korean peninsula was so tense that another military conflict could erupt any moment.

Because of Burma’s “nationalization” policy, most foreigners, including the Chinese and Indians, had to leave because they had nothing left. The new socialist government confiscated everything they had—bank assets, business, and stores. Their “second home” is no more.

Many Chinese chose to go back to the mainland, but at that time China was in political turmoil. The “Cultural Revolution” was in its early stage. We learned that many of our relatives back home in China were persecuted. Many were starving because they did not have food to eat. Their situation was worse than us in Burma. We had to send old clothes and food from Burma to alleviate their suffering.

We could not go back to China. My parents were considered “intellectuals,” who were considered by the Chinese Communist government as subversives. The new Chinese government believed that intellectuals “mislead or misguide” society. They believed that the “farmer,” or the so-called proletariat should run society and government.

My parents definitely had no place in the new China. We couldn’t go back. Our only option was Nationalist China—Taiwan. So we decided to go to Taiwan.

One of my father’s former students, Mr. Tien, helped us get to Taiwan. Mr. Tien was a member of Chiang’s army that withdrew to Taiwan when the Communists took over China. He was nice to family. He helped us get a “visa entrance certificate” for everybody. Because we were “nation-less,” we did not have any passports.

Mr. Tien had written us about Taiwan. He said the island was under full military control; martial law is in effect. The weather was bad all the time, and that we did not need winter clothes.

We did not have cash, because the government confiscated all our money. But we had gold and jewelry, which my mother had bought and accumulated little by little. She seemed to have foreseen the events to come. She believed that these are “assets” which we could use in the unpredictable future. So from these “assets” we had something to use to buy our tickets and for living expenses.

In the 1960s, my family had gotten bigger. Beside my sister Sandy, I had a younger brother, Dan. And then a younger sister, Jane, was added to the family.

I could never forget the day we left our home in Mong Kong. The whole community lined up the street. The town wanted to give my father—educator, teacher, an elder in the community—a “hero’s reception. The people had flowers and fruits for us. Everyone had tears in their eyes. They loved Mr. Lee, because Mr. Lee loved the people in his town. My father helped them build a school to educate their children. He was the “mediator” in family disputes. He even helped the less fortunate, even if his family was not rich. And he never asked anything in return.

The Lee family was leaving, and the townsfolk were sad. We felt bad about leaving, too, but we just cannot stay. Sooner or later the local authorities could arrest my father again.

My father walked through the crowd into the Chinese school ground. There he stood in front of the people to tell a few words. I remember what he said: “We shall return soon. I hope all of you will take care of yourselves. I depart temporarily. I will see you again soon.”

Tears rolled from my father’s eyes. I held my mother’s hand tightly. I also felt very sad seeing all my friends from school lining up the street to say good-bye. As if to lessen their grief, I told them I will write them when I arrived in Taiwan.

My father was a real gentleman and a true community leader. If he were alive today, I know he would make an outstanding political leader.

Finally we had to board the bus. My elder sister Lily had to stay behind to be with her husband. We said goodbye to her and to everybody.

The bus moved slowly from the crowd. Then it started to run faster, and faster, until we couldn’t see the people anymore.

My family was on to a new journey—to an uncertain future.

(To be continued)