I knew Barbara Bush would have been the one who had told her husband of my homesickness and longing to see my family. I was deeply touched. I could never repay her for such generosity and kindness.
Knowing China though, the process of trying to get my parents here could take many years. I held little hope. Wang Zicheng was simply trying to pay Mr Bush some lip service and trying to shut me up. I thanked him, but didn't think he could ever deliver. So as time went on, the hope of seeing my parents after five long years gradually faded from my heart.
But I was wrong. A few months later I received a letter from Wang Zicheng. He had indeed obtained the Chinese government's permission for my parents to leave China for a visit to the United States.
I held the letter in my hand and tears streamed down my face. I was shaking with joy.
25 No More Nightmares
I stayed home and cried. I didn't know how long I cried for and I didn't care. I just wanted to be alone to enjoy this overwhelming happiness.
Those tears washed out six long, unbearable years of sadness and grief. I wanted to stand on top of New York 's twin towers and yell out, let the entire world know how happy and how lucky I was.
I had no idea what my parents would look like after six years of hard, hard living. That night, trembling with excitement, I dialled my old village phone number. "Hello, can I speak to Li Tingfang, please?"
"Who is calling?"
"Li Cunxin, his sixth son," I replied.
I could tell the man on the other end was hesitating. I was afraid he would hang up, so I quickly added, "I have the central government's permission for my parents to come and visit me in America."
"Wait a minute," he said. I could hear him talking to another man in the background and then I heard a voice shout over the village's loudspeaker, "Li Tingfang! Li Tingfang! Phone call from America!"
I could hardly control my joy. My heart sang. Five minutes felt like five hours. I was anxious beyond description. I had a Tsingtao beer in my other hand and took a big gulp, but my hands were shaking uncontrollably.
Then I heard the sound of rapid footsteps. "I go first!" Then, "All right! All right! Hurry up!" Then I heard my second brother Cunyuan shouting into the phone. "Cunxin!"
"Erga…" My throat choked with tears.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Never better!" I managed to reply.
"Dia and Niang are coming to the phone! Your brothers are all here, except our big brother. He is still in Tibet…"
Before Cunyuan could finish, suddenly my third brother Cunmao's voice interrupted.
"Ni hao, Cunxin!"
"I'm so happy to be able to hear your voice. How are my fourth uncle and aunt?" I asked.
"They're good, but they're getting old," he replied.
"Please tell them that I love them and miss them," I said.
"I will." Cunmao handed the phone to my fourth brother, who then passed it on to my fifth brother and finally to my youngest brother.
"Jing Tring!"
"Where are you?" he asked.
Before I could answer him, I heard my fifth brother saying in the background. "What a stupid question! Where do you think he is? In America."
"I'm in Houston, in my house," I replied.
"What time is it there?" he asked.
"Seven-thirty in the evening," I replied.
"Oh, we are on different times!" he said unbelievingly.
I heard more of my brothers' laughter in the background. "Sixth brother, we all miss you so much! We are so happy you are alive!" he said.
"Jing Tring, I miss you all too…"
I was about to go on, but then another voice spoke urgently into the phone. "Jing Hao!"
I was overjoyed. I couldn't speak.
It was my niang. At last.
"Jing Hao, Jing Hao?" she kept asking, over and over again.
"Niang…"
"Is it really you, my sixth son…?" Her voice choked and she started to sob. "Ohh, my son!" she sighed. "I never thought this day would come before I leave this world. How happy I am. Gods have mercy. I can die peacefully now," she murmured.
"Niang, I have the central government's permission for you and Dia to come to America! We will see each other soon!"
"Jing Hao, please don't talk of such false hope…"
"But Niang, it is true! I have the permission letter in my hand! Now! You can start to apply for your passports!"
"Ohh… Ohh… Jing Hao said we can go to America to see him!" she said to the rest of the family, and I heard a roar of cheers in the background. Then she added, "Jing Hao, your dia wants to talk to you."
"Niang… before you go, I just want to tell you… I love you," I said.
This was the first time that I'd ever told her that. How many times I'd wished I'd said it to her before I'd left China.
There was a silence.
Then all I heard was the sound of my niang's quiet sobbing.
It took several months for my parents to obtain their passports, but once they did, the US visa was quickly granted. Charles Foster helped with all their applications, the US State Department was already well informed about my situation, and knowing the vice-president of the United States was a very helpful way of speeding things up.
While all this was going on I had to prepare for the Japan International Ballet Competition in Osaka. After my success in Jackson, Ben encouraged me to enter with one of the rising stars of the Houston Ballet, Martha Butler, who was only seventeen. At first I had reservations about Ben's selection: I thought Martha was too young and inexperienced to perform in such a high- pressure competition. But once again I was proven wrong…
Apart from my brief stop at the Tokyo airport to change planes on my first trip to America, this was my first experience of Japan. Once again I was confronted with a prosperous and industrial country but because of limited studio space in the host city of Osaka we had to take a fast train every day, for over an hour, to Kyoto for rehearsals.
Kyoto was one of the most beautiful and peaceful cities I'd ever seen: Buddhist temples, beautifully maintained gardens, the meditative rock gardens with their musical sounds, dripping water, bamboo and tranquillity. And the food-so delicately beautiful, like small artworks. The sushi was almost too pretty to eat. Some of the Japanese traditions reminded me of the Chinese customs that I had grown up with. I remembered too my dia talking about the Japanese occupation of Qingdao during the Second World War. Here in Kyoto I was so close to China, to my family and my friends only three hours away, yet still I felt so distant. Nothing would change, I thought. I would never be allowed to return to my homeland again.
Martha and I were placed twenty-sixth after the first round of the competition. I thought this was amazing, considering Martha had never performed in this kind of professional environment before: she hadn't even performed a full classical pas de deux in her entire life. She was so nervous that she kept her mouth open the whole time she was on stage. One of the judges said she looked like a goldfish.
In the second round we performed a contemporary work Ben had choreographed for us. I had to carry Martha in my arms, with her body sadly curled up. We were searching and struggling for a way out, but were pulled back by a powerful, invisible force everywhere we went. After all our hopes of survival had been crushed, we finally ended our performance with a slow, death- like movement, both of us entwined together. All through our performance I pretended that I was carrying the last beloved survivor of my family after our village back home in China had been destroyed. No home to go back to and no loved ones left. All we had was each other. Sometimes my thoughts were too painful for me and I prayed that my family back home would never suffer the same fate as the fate we danced that night.