Not long after Hong Kong fell, when we were living unknown to the Japanese in our flat on Taam Kung Road, we had a visit from several Chinese gentlemen, one of whom―stout and very respectable― was a former teacher at a language school. Now, of course, his means of livelihood was gone; he had a large family and was in need. He had a life insurance policy from some foreign company, and hoped that we might know some means by which he could realize on it. Needless to say, we had no means of helping him, but he was a Christian and we talked with him and asked him to call again.
When he came again, however, we scarcely knew him, he had grown so thin. His clothes hung on him as on a scarecrow. His wife was with him too—one of the bravest little women I ever knew, and his eldest son, a fine boy of seventeen. They had also a girl of fourteen, another boy of twelve and two very little girls. They had known comfort and security all their lives, but now found themselves facing starvation. They were Christians, but had never experienced much testing of faith before. However, they kept on trusting in the Lord, and struggled to make a living. The eldest boy accepted an offer of the Japanese to go and work as a laborer in Hainan. His mother was to receive fifteen yen a month for his work, which was really slave labor. So, off he went, bitterly missed by his parents, and no letters came back, but as long as his mother received the fifteen yen, she knew that he was alive. After some months, however, the official at the office, where she went each month to draw her fifteen yen, said that there was no money coming to her that month. Soon afterward they received a letter from their boy, saying that he had been in an accident and had lost a finger, so had been unable to work that month, but was now better. A few months later, however, the payments ceased entirely, without explanation or any word of their boy. He was missing, and they grieved sorely.
Meanwhile the eldest girl had gone to work for a rich Chinese family in Hong Kong, but she soon fell sick of dysentery, and the mother asked us to pray for her. A few days later she came again—a stony look in her face, without tears or sign of emotion she said, “I have come to tell you that you need not pray for my daughter any longer. She has gone to heaven.”
I tried to comfort her, but she seemed stunned. Suddenly, with a burst of tears she exclaimed: “Oh, how she suffered! I was glad when she was gone.”
Not long after, this Christian man had beri-beri so badly that he could not walk. We feared that the end had come for the little family, but an unknown friend turned up who paid for Vitamin B medicine for him and he became very much better. The boy of twelve sold candies or cigarettes on the streets from dawn till late at night, and managed to earn a little.
At this time there was quite a lot of Indian corn on the market, which his wife learned to cook with a pinch of borax in the water, which softened it and made it puff up like popcorn. This was served with a little weak sugar, and she had a stall with a few bowls where she sold it. For a time she had quite a nice business, but then one day she came to us in tears. A Japanese soldier had come along, kicked the stall to pieces, broke all the bowls, and threw out the potful of cooked corn. We were thankful that we had a little money on hand to help her, but she did not attempt to sell corn again.
We often wondered how they ever managed, but while many starved to death, the Lord provided for His poor, weak, and sorrowing children. Sometimes the same kind, Chinese, Christian business man who helped us, would also help this family.
Some time after this, the wife began to work for the Japanese. They had sent out a call for women to carry five-gallon tins of gasoline from the gas tanks at Shamshuipo and Lycheekok and load them on junks. No doubt they realized that American planes would soon come to bomb the gas installations, and wished to save as much as they could. It was heavy work, but there was a free lunch, and she could earn more than by selling cakes at the door. This went on for a while and then the expected happened. American planes bombed the gas installations exceedingly accurately, and the fire and smoke from the explosion mounted up to heaven.
She and the other women ran for their lives when they saw what was coming, but their bare arms were terribly burned. The Japanese overseer assured them that when they were better, he would find some work for them again, but he did not give them a cent to support them in the meantime. They had to find their own ointment and bandages. This happened just before we left. Her arms were getting better and we left them what money we could spare, but we have had no word of them since.