Marshmallows and Mystery

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 80, 25 June 1927, Page 24

Marshmallows and Mystery

SaaMgSga HE boat-life of China is is always fascinating to the newcomer. The thousands of boats that line the rivers and canals itE'l iSgl throughout the Empire

are occupied by families that have lived there for generations. They are born on the boats; they marry on the boats;- raise their families on the boats; do all their trading from the boats; never leave them to step on land; and eventually die on the boats!

These boats are possibly hundreds of years old. They are long and flat with an awning over the top for shelter. Under this awning the family sits in the daytime—and when night falls they lie down and cover themselves with what poor clothing, they have or they go through a sort of trap-door into the lower part of the boat, which looks like a rat-hole. How do they manage to exist through the beating sun of summer, and the intense cold of winter, God alone knows. They drink the dirty water of the canal; they do their washing in it: they throw their refuse into the same water; they wash themselves in it—knowing no other life. When the rain descends and the typhoons come, these miserable folk draw a sort of oil-skin covering over and round the sides of the boat and sit huddled together—dirty masses of misery. On the fine days we would watch them at their every-day Occupations. Here is a family squatting on the floor, eating rice—with cliop-sticks—-seven or eight children, half fed and practically naked. Chinese girls with refined faces and delicate hands work on fine embroidery which they hope to sell for a few cents to a passing trading boat. A whole party of them play mahjong and gamble away their last bite of food. Here we see a woman with a fishing net leaning over

the edge of the boat, trying to catch any food or leaves of vegetables that might have been thrown into the water.

We would see them cooking on their little kerosene stoves. Where the creeks narrow, in many places the water is filthy and black as ink and the smell horrible. On the Yangtse River there is still a more interesting side to this boat-life. When we reached Wuhu—a walled city 93 miles above Nanking—we saw the tubbeggars. Whole families seated in ordinary sized washing-tubs, paddled their way up the river, using their hands and broken sticks for oars. .They managed to wedge these tubs in between our boat and the landing stage, so that they might beg for money. First came a young woman with three little children. There was just enough room for them all to squeeze

Tub-Beggars of China

(Written for THE SUN by EVELYN WHITELL)

in together—sitting close. Next came two tubs bumping each other along. The women trying to steer them, their faces strained and distraught by many' such trips. An old man and a pitifully old wrinkled woman, came next, with two small boys, lithe as eels and brown as the water. These came closest to our boat. Others followed, but the best parking places were gone. It was really a dramatic sight, as we looked over the railing of the Tuck Wu, to see these people clasp their hands and raise their eyes appealingly for help. The children, specially attracted us. They acted their parts with such pathos and called to us beseechingly in their own tongue. I asked the Chinese steward what they were saying.

“Wantee money,” he answered. We felt inclined to throw over all our possessions—but were told that these people only looked for pennies. I threw over two twenty cent pieces. Both missed aim and went into the water.

The Chinese are fatalists. They don’t wail and cry over the inevitable. As the money had missed them, it could not have been intended for them. They never looked after it—they held up their hands for more.

When all our change was exhausted I brought from my stateroom a tin of marshmallows and began to throw one at a time to the children. They caught them eagerly—but did not know what they were, nor what to do with them! They rolled them in their hands and between their fingers and shook their heads. I illustrated by eating one. Even then they looked doubtful—but leaned over the edge of the tub —and after washing them well in the filthy water of the river, decided they must be safe enough to eat.

One of the women had a shrimp-net fastened to the end of a long pole; .she was the best off because she

thrust it upward until it touched our deck. I had given away all the marshmallows —so I dropped the tin in her net. That tin was a gold mine to them. They took off the lid —peeped into it; smelt it; turned it over, and passed it from tub to tub to be examined. The net came up very quickly again in the hopes of another such treasure.

That night as we continued our trip up the river—a heavy storm descended. The wind came in terriffic volume. The rain fell solid. The lightning, forked and vivid, was followed by horrible explosions of thunder. Safe in our comfortable beds in our state-rooms, we forgot the fear which at another time might have been predominant. We forgot to think about ourselves —when we remembered the sights of a few hours before, and the tub-beggars, still afloat on the terra-cotta waters of the Yangtse.