A Hushed City

Mid-morning during school, The teacher told us to gather up our books and other belongs.
"Now, I want all of you to be very good and behave. Don't go anywhere-else. Go straight home," our teacher said. Then she dismissed us.
So we all put on our coats, gathered our belongings, and marched out of the class-room. We went pass the schoolyard and filed out through the gate. Onto the street.

The air was crisp and the wind was kicking up.The outside was unusually quiet..
There were no cars, no rickshaws, no bicycles, no vendors, nor policemen. Except for an eerie Hush.
At each street corner, there was a short and bowlegged person in a soldier's uniform holding a rifle with a bayonet standing guard. 

My heart was in my throat. I knew something was wrong but I did not know What.

I lowed my head, hugged my books closer, took a deep breadth and hurried towards home. 
Most of the shops were boarded up. I wondered why.
Why were there so few people on the street? Where were the cars? Where were the Sikhs?
"Where is everybody," I wondered.
I wanted my mother. I wanted my Amah,
I walked briskly home, as fast as I could.
Mother was home. As a matter of fact, everyone was home even my father.
Mother and Amah were so happy to see me, they hugged me close for a long while.
I looked at my mother for answers.
My parents said in a hushed voice, "The Japanese are here."

In a few days, somehow life went on as usual. I went to school everyday. My father went back to the office everyday. The vendors were on street corners again. The shop doors were open . . .

However, nothing was the same again. 

Every evening, there were barricades at intersections after seven o'clock. There were curfews every night. You needed a pass if you wanted to go some place after hours. You bowed to the soldiers or you suffered from the bayonets. We did not venture out of the house if there was no need to. I, being a young girl, did not go anywhere after hours.
Then, the Rations came. Rice was rationed. Cooking oil was rationed. Sugar was rationed. Then, coal, electricity, materials for clothes . . .
Then, came the Shortages - food and everything-else.
The currency devalued every so many months, then every so many weeks. Inflation was unstoppable. People walked around with their heads lowered, mouth closed, and eyebrows knitted. 

Amah and her son, and all the other servants stayed with us because things were much worse in the country. For a long time, I am sure Amah lost contact with her husband. But she and the others went on with their jobs as diligently as ever. I don't know if my father paid them the same wages or not - but they did have a roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and clothes on their backs. None of them complained ever.

My father was in the Import and Export business, dealing with machineries and such. His partner, who was my grandfather's associate in Manchuria, was German. Their Business carried on as usual. It seemed that we always had enough to eat and enough to live on. Father provided for all of us through thick or thin.

I do remember, however, that our life in every way was scaled down.We had to be very careful as to how much cooking oil we could use or how much coal we could burn for heating.
Shanghai could be very cold in the Winter. So, sometimes, the temperature in the house, even with the potbelly stoves burning could be icy cold. We had a big house. Two little potbelly stoves, one for upstairs and one for downstairs, were not enough to keep us warm. The servants huddled in the kitchen in the evenings, where the cooking fire was still burning.
We piled layers of clothing on us. I remember the fingerless gloves. We, oftentimes, wore them inside the house.

I learned to knit. Knitting kept us busy. We did not have money to buy new yarns, nor there were much new yarns offered by the shops. So, we would unravel our old sweaters, washed and boiled the yarn, straightened them, and knitted new sweaters for ourselves. 
My mother's cousin, Big Aunt, taught me how to knit. Though my mother was an excellent knitter, she thought it best to have Big Aunt teach me instead of her. Wise woman. 
I learned to do intricate stitches and patterns. We would compete to see who could come up with the best patterns. We women knitted and knitted throughout those long cold winter days. Both my mother and Big Aunt were so good at knitting, they could knit plain stitches with their eyes closed literally. 
As a matter of fact, my mother knitted during her later years in life while she was practically blind, and turned out beautiful garments.

The Takeover in the Settlements was peaceful. There were no street fights, no bombing, no killings in most parts (at least we did not see any bloodshed). Many of the foreigners were interned, although we did not know any of those who were. 

So with blinders over our eyes, life went on.