glared at him, then stepped away.
â
At 1300, the president of the association took a red plastic lighter from his shirt pocket, flicked it, and lit the firecrackers. We were quickly enveloped in clouds of sparks, sound, and smoke. Burnt firecracker paper settled dreamlike over the cheering crowd. It was tough to see for a few minutes, and I gagged on the smell of gunpowder.
I waved my arms around until I saw Peepshow again.
âHey, everythingâs cool, baby,â he said. âJust relax.â He gestured at the throngs of tourists breathing dim-sum breath.
I couldnât take it easy because I knew trouble was going to start once the parade got underway. It was the first one since the death of Chiang Kai Shek, who was the head of the Kuomintang in Taiwan.
The KMT had lost the Chinese civil war to the communists and retreated to Taiwan. But the party still held power in Chinatown. It was no secret that the KMT poured cash into the Greater China Association and paid the salaries of its board. The association was an umbrella group for Chinatownâs many smaller family associations. Most business owners paid lip service to the KMT and bankrolled the parade to show what great communism-fighters they were.
The parade prominently featured the KMT flag, held in triumph, as if they had won the war. And if you werenât there on the sidelines cheering and blowing kisses, you might be branded a pinko by the neo-McCarthyites in the community.
âKuomintang and the Chinese people for 10,000 years!â screamed a little girl with a megaphone at the front of the parade. Everybody cheered. She stomped on red firecracker paper shreds as she started her march. I shifted my weight and balanced my right hand at my hip.
A dissident group of merchants who were aligned with the communists had put up posters throughout Chinatown that by dawn had been ripped down by their rivals. A tourist walking by one of these posters wouldnât notice anything different between it and the numerous other signs offering money-wiring services, get-rich schemes, and apartment listings. But anyone who ate rice and was even semi-literate would see:
ONE TRUE CHINA FOR THE CHINESE PEOPLE!
BURY THE CORRUPT CHIANG KAI SHEK!
BURY THE CORRUPT KMT!
RAISE OUR VOICES AT THE PARADE!
COMMITTEE OF UNITED CHINESE
The committee was mostly made up of mainland Chinese affiliated with old warlords who bore grudges against the KMT and had passed them on to their kids.
Resentment runs deep in Chinese people. Forgiveness is not a Chinese value. We pray for fortune, luck, a long and happy life, but never for the redemption of our enemies;
we want them to die a thousand deaths. Chiang Kai Shek killed communists every chance he got, especially unarmed ones. The communists threw KMT soldiers and their families into re-education camps when the war was over. It was stupid to forgive because forgiveness meant you hadnât learned anything.
A few years ago, the U.N. had expelled the KMT-ruled Taiwan from its roster of permanent members, a move opposed by the U.S., which still recognized the KMT as the legitimate rulers of China. The U.S. had no diplomatic ties with so-called âRed China.â But Americans didnât know that the color red has always symbolized China to all Chinese, whether they followed Chiang, or Mao, or
Dr. Seuss. Even the KMT flag is dominated by a red field. That red could represent all the blood of Chinese killed by other Chinese, whether at the collapse of every dynasty or in a gambling den.
When the elementary-school girls were done with their clumsy, mercifully short dance, Boy Scouts came stomping in. Instead of their traditional neckerchiefs, they were wearing the KMT flag. One kid with gold and silver arrow badges running down his chest played a bugle that jiggled a shaggy mane of yellow cords. He did a pretty good version of âYankee Doodle,â and then he played the KMT
â
At 1300, the president of the association took a red plastic lighter from his shirt pocket, flicked it, and lit the firecrackers. We were quickly enveloped in clouds of sparks, sound, and smoke. Burnt firecracker paper settled dreamlike over the cheering crowd. It was tough to see for a few minutes, and I gagged on the smell of gunpowder.
I waved my arms around until I saw Peepshow again.
âHey, everythingâs cool, baby,â he said. âJust relax.â He gestured at the throngs of tourists breathing dim-sum breath.
I couldnât take it easy because I knew trouble was going to start once the parade got underway. It was the first one since the death of Chiang Kai Shek, who was the head of the Kuomintang in Taiwan.
The KMT had lost the Chinese civil war to the communists and retreated to Taiwan. But the party still held power in Chinatown. It was no secret that the KMT poured cash into the Greater China Association and paid the salaries of its board. The association was an umbrella group for Chinatownâs many smaller family associations. Most business owners paid lip service to the KMT and bankrolled the parade to show what great communism-fighters they were.
The parade prominently featured the KMT flag, held in triumph, as if they had won the war. And if you werenât there on the sidelines cheering and blowing kisses, you might be branded a pinko by the neo-McCarthyites in the community.
âKuomintang and the Chinese people for 10,000 years!â screamed a little girl with a megaphone at the front of the parade. Everybody cheered. She stomped on red firecracker paper shreds as she started her march. I shifted my weight and balanced my right hand at my hip.
A dissident group of merchants who were aligned with the communists had put up posters throughout Chinatown that by dawn had been ripped down by their rivals. A tourist walking by one of these posters wouldnât notice anything different between it and the numerous other signs offering money-wiring services, get-rich schemes, and apartment listings. But anyone who ate rice and was even semi-literate would see:
ONE TRUE CHINA FOR THE CHINESE PEOPLE!
BURY THE CORRUPT CHIANG KAI SHEK!
BURY THE CORRUPT KMT!
RAISE OUR VOICES AT THE PARADE!
COMMITTEE OF UNITED CHINESE
The committee was mostly made up of mainland Chinese affiliated with old warlords who bore grudges against the KMT and had passed them on to their kids.
Resentment runs deep in Chinese people. Forgiveness is not a Chinese value. We pray for fortune, luck, a long and happy life, but never for the redemption of our enemies;
we want them to die a thousand deaths. Chiang Kai Shek killed communists every chance he got, especially unarmed ones. The communists threw KMT soldiers and their families into re-education camps when the war was over. It was stupid to forgive because forgiveness meant you hadnât learned anything.
A few years ago, the U.N. had expelled the KMT-ruled Taiwan from its roster of permanent members, a move opposed by the U.S., which still recognized the KMT as the legitimate rulers of China. The U.S. had no diplomatic ties with so-called âRed China.â But Americans didnât know that the color red has always symbolized China to all Chinese, whether they followed Chiang, or Mao, or
Dr. Seuss. Even the KMT flag is dominated by a red field. That red could represent all the blood of Chinese killed by other Chinese, whether at the collapse of every dynasty or in a gambling den.
When the elementary-school girls were done with their clumsy, mercifully short dance, Boy Scouts came stomping in. Instead of their traditional neckerchiefs, they were wearing the KMT flag. One kid with gold and silver arrow badges running down his chest played a bugle that jiggled a shaggy mane of yellow cords. He did a pretty good version of âYankee Doodle,â and then he played the KMT
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