(4-97) I once read about a custom practiced in southern China, and I was horrified. It was baby killing. It was practiced around the south border of China; places that were considered barbaric and uncivilized to central Chinese at the time. The custom was to have a bucket of cold water in the labor room. As soon as the new born was delivered and determined to be a girl, she would be dumped in the water to die. One central Chinese official stationed there described that some baby girls could cry for hours before everything turned into silence. Laws were established to discourage such practice, but the custom continued for hundreds of years.

In my personal experience I know the northern Chinese do not value girls in general because of the harsh environment. The land is dry, farming is difficult. Female labor is not as valuable as male labor. I do not understand the reason why the rich soil and mild climate in the south cannot make the people more tolerant of their female population. The origin and the roots of sex discrimination still mystify me.

I must say I was a lucky girl, born in a family that would value a girl as much as a boy. I was nicknamed the "second treasure" since I was the second child. My girl friend next door wasn't as lucky. She was nicknamed number 5. Later, she grew taller and bigger than her sisters, and they just called her Da Niu, the Big Girl.

Da Niu's family came from northern China, Shang Dong. Shang Dong is a poor province. However, people there are well known for their tall and big build. They were my mother's tenant. We were the mainlander who followed Chang Kai Shek to Taiwan. There were about 100 families or so settled on a bank near the Clear Water river. The land was classified as a flood zone, unsuitable for habitation. People ignored the law. They built their homes on top of an illegal zone for they were poor and there were no other choices.

I don't know how my parents claimed the piece of land as their own. We owned a fairly large piece of land, about half an acre, I guess. My father built a few houses with press board and things. We lived in the main house, and the rest were rented out for income. Needless to say, Da Niu's family was even poorer than we were. They had six girls in their family. We only had two. Their house was about the same size as ours.

It was a beautiful land. Banana trees and gardenias. Guava trees and papaya. Everything grew in its luscious green, white, yellow, and red. And a river ran quietly beside us - that is, if it wasn't the typhoon season. Every summer, the river would swell with brownish water and swallow some of our belongings. That was just part of life. No one left; everyone was prepared to face it each summer. We spent our childhood there exploring the river, the vegetable fields along the bank, the trees, the flowers, and the people in each household.

I was closer to Da Niu more so than any other family members in that household because we were the same age. However, I must say I don't remember too much about her except that she was tall and big, dark skinned and good natured. She usually followed me around. We played a lot of pretend games. I always played the teacher. Her father was a retired soldier from the Nationalist party. After the war, low rank soldiers were looked down upon for their poor income and uselessness. I never saw him working a single day. I don't remember much of the sisters, except the fourth one was very pretty, with a watermelon seed shaped face, fair skin, and a few freckles. One thing that did stick in my mind was the food they ate. They seemed to eat food prepared from flour all the time. I remember this soupy thing with clumps of flour and a few vegetable leaves that they offered me so whole heartedly. It made quite an impression on me. I have never tasted anything quite like that mouthful of soggy and chewy clump of flour. I was more used to wonton with meat and minced vegetable wrapped in a thin sheet of wrapper that we southern Chinese ate.

Typhoon season came and went each year. One particular storm occurred on August 7th, it caused the biggest flooding problem in decades. Our house was on higher ground than the others, and the water usually rose around three feet above ground. That year, my parents had to put chairs on top of the dinning table, and then sat up there to watch over things. Police came to force evacuation. My father handed me to the policeman. Brown water was rising fast. The policeman held me over his head, gingerly walking on top of a brick fence. Everyone was shouting. I was handed to another policeman on the street where it was safe. Refusing to leave, I stood there watching our house submerged in the water.

After that year, the government decided to build a dam to protect the people on the other side of the river. I later learned that many high ranking party officials lived on the other side of the river. We had to leave. Our half acre of land with trees and flowers was gone. In exchange, we got a two-bedroom apartment in a housing project. They were rows of concrete buildings with newly laid concrete roads. Being a tenant, Da Niu's family was not compensated. They moved away. I lost contact with Da Niu.

I did see Da Niu one more time a few years later after I went to high school. I was waiting for bus to go home after school. She looked nice, dressed in fancy clothes with make up. I was rather envious of her clothes. Most of us at that age only wore uniforms and plain shirts and skirts. I was excited and eagerly chatting and inquiring of all the things happened in those lost years. She was rather distant and unresponsive. I remember telling mother about my puzzlement. Mother didn't say much. Years later, I heard mother chatting with an old neighbor friend about Da Niu's family. I learned that the fourth sister married an overseas Chinese from Thailand and only visited the family occasionally. The younger sister was too young. It had to be Da Niu. Da Niu was the ugliest in the family, could not be married off easily. Besides she was so good natured, she wouldn't fight back. From the way they talked and the tone of voice, it suddenly dawned on me what happened to Da Niu. I remembered mother's sigh and her Shanghai dialect: "Zhai Gu Ya...(pity)"

I often wonder why things happen the way they do.