MY family left Burma with mixed feelings. We did not want to leave. Mong Kong meant so much to us. As a young kid, I had a lot of friends, and I didn’t want to part with them. For my father, he did not want to abandon the one thing he treasured most—the school, which he and other community leaders built with a lot of sweat and sacrifice.

    Yes, the school—a small building built of wood at the foot of a green mountain, a waterfall cascading at the back yard.

    Many of my childhood memories revolve around this school. It was here where I saw tears roll from my father’s eyes for the first time. I know how much he loved the school.

    But we couldn’t stay in Burma. It was not a place where we could live freely. We had to leave. We had to say goodbye to relatives and friends.

    So on we were to a new journey.

    It was midday when we arrived in Rangoon, Burma’s capital. The city was in chaos. Ne Win had overthrown the civil government and set up a military junta headed by himself to run the country. Ne Win jailed the top officials of the former government.

    Rangoon’s downtown streets were almost empty. The business centers were closed, their doorways barricaded with chain links. Soldiers in military tanks patrolled the city streets. The military government also closed the Rangoon University to clamp down student demonstrations.

    We stayed at a small hotel while waiting for our flight and for our exit permit. The government wanted to make sure that we were not bringing out valuable from Burma. This was part of the military government’s “nationalization” policy, which was actually legitimizing the government’s seizure of private wealth and property.

    My parents felt a little nervous because they had hidden a chest of gold and jewelry in one of our luggage.

    Finally we got permission to leave. Everybody got a sigh of relief.

    We boarded a British Airline aircraft for Taipei, with a stopover in Hong Kong.

    Although we faced uncertainty, everybody was excited about the flight. It was the first time for all of us to ride an airplane.

    It was a four-hour flight to Hong Kong. We arrived in this British colony in the middle of the night. As the plane circled the air in preparation for landing, I saw a beautiful city—with its skyscrapers and well lighted and vibrant streets.

    Look at what free enterprise can do, I told myself. Hong Kong ... so prosperous ... the Pearl of the Orient. Even in the 60s, it was one of the most prosperous cities in Asia.

    My family just arrived in a different world. The airlines gave us a room in a five-star hotel to stay. The meal was as superb as the amenities. We had never experienced this in our lives before.

    We did not have a visa to enter Hong Kong, so we were not able to see the heart of the city. But even from our hotel we could see a lot of stores and restaurants.

    The people in Hong Kong spoke predominantly Cantonese (one of the Chinese dialects). Most of its residents were mainland Chinese who fled to this island-state when the Communists took over.

    Under a treaty signed between China and Great Britain, Hong Kong was ruled by the latter.

    Britain instituted a strong education system in the island. As a result, the Hong Kong Chinese were better educated. With residents that are hard working and with good education, Hong Kong became one of the most progressive cities in the world. It became a tourist destination; millions visited Hong Kong every year.

    Without a permit to see the heart of Hong Kong, we could only do a little “window shopping” from our hotel’s lobby. My feeling was one of envy. I was even hurt for not being able to move around.

    But on that day I made up my mind: I will become rich one day, and I will buy my parents and family a lot of presents, things they never had before.

(To be continued)