Feather in the Storm

In the fourth winter of the famine I was returned to my family. It was the final week of January, a few days before the Lunar New Year. I was three and a half years old.

We lived in a large house in Tianjin. I slept beside my grandmother in a bedroom on the first floor. My mother, father and three sisters slept in an adjoining room. On the floors above us lived the families of three uncles and aunts. Nine adults and twelve children shared the house.

On my last morning in the house I was awakened before dawn by a gentle touch. Papa stood beside the bed, his finger to his lips to indicate that he did not want me to disturb Grandma. He carried me from the room and put me down on a stool in the corridor and then he gathered some of my clothing and my only toy-a doll-and put them in a bag. He helped me into my winter coat, tied my wool cap under my chin and wrapped a scarf around my neck. Finally, he helped me pull on my mittens and winter shoes. He put on his coat, picked up the bag of clothing and took my mittened hand in his. With hardly a sound, he unlatched the door, opened it just enough for us to squeeze through, and closed and locked it behind us.

The morning was cold and quiet. The air was filled with snowflakes. The courtyard was buried beneath a blanket of new snow. When Papa noticed it was difficult for me to get a footing on the slippery cobblestones, he stooped and lifted me in his arms. As he straightened up, a light came on in the bedroom where I'd been sleeping with Grandma. There was a muffled cry-"Maomao!"

I twisted in Papa's arms and was about to shout, "I'm here, Grandma." But Papa whispered, "Be quiet!" He hurried through the gate and out onto Happiness Lane. The anxious voice continued to call, "Maomao! Where are you?"

Papa rushed down the lane. Two blocks from the house he stopped to catch his breath. I wrapped my arms around his neck and laid my head on his shoulder.

We waited on the corner until a bus stopped for us. We

Emily Wu s stories have appeared in both Chinese and American publications. She is one of the featured subjects in the film Up to the Mountain, Down to the Village. She lives with her two children in Cupertino, California.

Larry Engelmann is the author of five previous books, including Daughter of China. His writing has appeared in many publications, including American Heritage, Smithsonian, and the magazines of both the Los Angeles Times and The Washington Post. He lives in San Jose, California.

Feather in the Storm represents a magnificent accomplishment. Here is the truly timely tale of a world in revolutionary chaos as suffered and seen by an innocent and powerless child. Emily Wu's memoir is a story for all times heart-wrenching, chilling, inspiring and above all unforgettable. Anchee Min, author of Red Azalea With passion, candor, and restraint, Feather in the Storm tells a young girl s story of growing up in a violent, revolution-battered China. . . . This rich, unique, heartbreaking narrative is about human cruelty, foolishness and decency, and is ultimately a testimony to indomitable human tenacity and vitality. Ha Jin, author of Waiting, winner of the National Book Award Wu rises from the ashes of death and destruction to give voice to the lost and tortured innocent souls of her haunting childhood. San Francisco Chronicle A starkly vivid memoir. . . . Throughout this compelling work, her voice is quiet and steady, underscoring the violent capriciousness of Wu s childhood under Mao. By the end, we re more than readers; we ve become her witnesses. Newsweek