Coming Home

By Rita H. Chen

He stood outside the arrival gate of Air China Flight 232, holding a sign with the name, “Wang Mei Hua,” penned carefully in Chinese and English pinyin.  Though his wife was supposed to have studied enough Chinese to at least recognize the characters of her name, he felt it was best to be as cautious as possible.

He had spent a long three months waiting for his wife’s spousal visa to be approved, and he was eager to see her again.  Their first meeting in a coffee shop close to the viewing hotel where she had been housed had been painfully short.   That day she had sat demurely with her hands folded in her lap and her eyes studiously downcast.  She had only said one word in the few hours they were together, preferring to allow the agency’s translator to take control of the situation.

* * *

“Her name,” he said to the male translator sitting next to his future wife.  “I’m having difficulty pronouncing it.”

“It’s,” and here the translator said something that sounded like ‘Ling-Nu-Wen’ to him.  When he tried to mimic the words the translator frowned and shook his head.  “No, no,” he said before repeating the woman’s name again. 

When his next attempt met with more displeasure, he let out a sigh of frustration.

The translator quickly softened his features.  “No matter.  She can’t use her Vietnamese name in China anyway.  Why don’t you give her a Chinese name instead?”

“That’s a good idea.” He scrutinized the slim woman in front of him.  Her face was a little rounder than he would have preferred but her doe-like eyes and button nose were endearing.  “How about the name, Mei Hua?” 

 “Excellent choice.”   The translator then relayed the message to the woman in Vietnamese and she nodded.  Satisfied, the man turned to him and switched back to Chinese, “So, in regards to her visa-“

“Does she like it?”

“What?”

“Her new name.  Does she like her new name?”

“Oh.”  Despite looking puzzled by his need to know, the translator turned and asked the question to the woman.

The woman nodded again.  Before the translator could resume talking to him, he said, “Tell her the meaning of the name – that the words mean ‘beautiful’ and ‘graceful.’  Ask her if she likes that.”

A flicker of annoyance pulsed through the translator’s eyes before he nodded shortly.  “Of course.”  After the translator had spoken to her, the woman looked startled and went very still.  Then, for the first time in the entire meeting her brown eyes lifted to meet his.  Her plump lips curved into a pleased smile as she nodded shyly. 

“Thank you,” she said haltingly in Chinese.

“You speak Chinese?” he asked in surprised pleasure.

The woman shook her head with the same bashfulness and turned to look at the translator in a silent entreaty for help. 

“She doesn’t speak Chinese yet.  Only a few simple phrases,” the man said.  “But she is learning.  By the time you get her, she will know more.” 

“I see.”

“She’s a very smart woman.  She will be able to hold at least a few simple conversations with you by the time she arrives in China.  Plus, she’s well-trained in the domestic arts – cooking, cleaning, and the like.  I’m sure she will be a good companion and will make you very happy.”  

“Yes…” He couldn’t tell if it was because the translator was speaking a language not native to himself, but the words he used to describe his future wife’s skill set made the woman sound more like a pet than a person.  He didn’t like it.  “So you were saying about the visa?”

* * *

He glanced up at the flight board, noting that the status for Air China Flight 232 had been updated from ‘Arrived’ to ‘In Customs.’  Soon, he would be taking his wife home.  It had taken a long time for his friends and family to understand his decision to use a marriage broker and the fact that everyone was now waiting in his apartment for them was a small victory in itself.   His parents had particularly balked at the idea of having a foreigner as a daughter-in-law, and his mother had made his life quite miserable in the months leading up to his trip to Vietnam.

* * *

“40,000 yuan for a bride!  You’re spending more than a year’s worth of salary on a prostitute?”

“Ma, these women are not prostitutes.  They are just poor, rural women from Vietnam looking for husbands in China to give them better lives.”

“Hmph.  And how do you know she’s clean, hmm?  If she’s the type of girl who would be willing to sell herself like this then she probably isn’t a good girl!”

“Ma, we are not discussing this.”  There was nothing he wanted less than to discuss his future wife’s sexual history with his mother.  He unfolded the crumpled ad he had snipped from the newspaper and shoved it at her.  “Just read this.”    

Snatching the paper from his hand, his mother skimmed through the text before passing it to her husband with an angry little huff. 

His father read the words aloud, “Vietnamese Bride Introduction Services.  Only 40,000 yuan.  Four major guarantees.  One, she will be a virgin.  Two, she will be yours in only three months.  Three, absolutely no additional fees.  Four, a replacement guaranteed should she escape within the first month. Call 08-3564-9174.”  He paused, lowered the paper, and peered at his son.  “I must say that I also don’t feel comfortable with this.  How can you be sure this is legitimate?” 

“They’ve run these marriage service tours for years…  I actually did some research online and saw that this particular company has had good reviews.  Plus, I’ve met with the broker himself and he seems like a trustworthy person.”  Seeing his mother gearing up to protest these last words, he raised a hand and signaled for her to let him finish.  “Besides, I’ll be going on this tour with several other men.  They can’t possibly scam all of us at the same time.”

“Have you lost your mind? I thought I raised you to be smarter than this!   One person, many people – it makes no difference when you’re being tricked!  And how can you say this man is trustworthy?  He’s nothing more than a salesperson!  Why are you being so stupid?”

His mother’s words irritated him.  “Well, what choice do I really have, Ma?  I’m 45 now and I’m no closer to finding a suitable wife than I was when I was 30.  There aren’t enough women in the entire country now – let alone a city like Kunming – and I can’t compete against men who earn more, look better, and are younger.  At least with this service I know that I’m being guaranteed a healthy, young bride who can bear a child.  You do want a grandchild, don’t you?”

“Yes, but must you go to such drastic means? Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is? It makes my son look like he’s so undesirable to Chinese women he had no choice but to marry an outsider.” 

He went quiet.  It was difficult for him to admit but the truth of the matter was that he was undesirable to Chinese women.  Thanks to the shortage of women in China, even the ugliest of women had their pick of men and each woman he had approached had shot him down with varying degrees of cruelty.  Some didn’t bother to get to know him, turning away as soon they laid eyes on him.   Others looked down on him as soon as they found out about his lack of higher education and his profession as a garbage collector. 

When he didn’t say anything, his mother pressed on.  “Do you know how shameful this is and how difficult this will be to explain?  Just what I am supposed to tell my friends?” 

He finally lost his temper.  “I’m the one getting married, not them.  You tell them it’s none of their goddamn business!”

* * *

He couldn’t help but frown as he recalled the massive argument that had ensued with his parents – well, more like his mother –that night.  Though that particular fight had ended in a stalemate, his mother refused to give up.  Following that night, she threw a daily slew of scolding, bitter comments at him, not stopping until the day before he was to board the plane to Vietnam.

* * *

“Well?  Are you still going through with this idiocy?” his mother asked as soon as he sat down for their weekly Thursday night dinner. 

He braced himself for the impending battle.  “Yes,” he replied shortly.  “Everything’s been paid for.    I’m going to the airport after work tomorrow and I’ll be meeting my future,” and here he deliberately stressed this next word, “wife on Saturday.”  

“Hmph.”  His mother scowled and picked up her chopsticks.  When her husband and her son failed to move, she jabbed the air with the utensils.  “Well, what are you two waiting for?  Start eating or the food’s going to get cold.” 

His father wisely said nothing lest it bring his wife’s wrath upon his head.  He did, however, spare his son a sympathetic glance before picking up his chopsticks and beginning to eat as instructed. 

They ate in silence for several minutes before his mother said, “You do know how some people will look at you and her once she’s here, don’t you?”

“Yes, Ma, but I can’t waste any more time not doing anything because I’m scared of what other people will think.  I want to have a wife and child soon.  It’s now time for me to be happy.”

His mother didn’t say anything right away, instead regarding him with sharp probing eyes.  Finally she said, “I see there’s nothing I can do to stop you from your foolishness.  Very well then, do what you want.  At least show me a picture of the woman that you’re planning to bring home. I need to know if she’s attractive enough to give me a decent-looking grandchild.”

He knew this was his mother’s way of giving him her reluctant blessing to the union.  “Sure, Ma,” he said in a voice several shades brighter than before, “I’ll show you her picture right after dinner.”   

 * * *

Reaching into his shirt pocket, he took out the image that had made him choose his wife.  He could still remember how he had felt when he first saw her picture.  Conflicting emotions had rolled through him – excitement to have found a physically attractive woman for his future wife and fear that this woman looked nothing like her picture in reality.  The agency did advertise a money-back guarantee for wives who did not turn out to be exactly as promised but how could one be sure?

* * *

“So I can only choose one woman?” He was sitting in an office euphemistically named “Vietnamese Translation and Travel Services”, flipping through a catalogue of women’s pictures some 50 pages thick. 

The manager of the office, a chubby man with a receding hairline and a big smile, hesitated slightly before answering, “Well, if you really can’t narrow it down to one, you can chose two different women.  But two’s the limit!  There’s not enough time in the schedule for you to meet more than two women.” 

He thought of the hectic four-day schedule that had him meeting his future wife, having their wedding ceremony, meeting her parents, and then helping her register for her spousal visa to China.  “That sounds reasonable enough.”  He perused the booklet, cautiously at first then with more speed as he got used to the women’s faces.  Women of all shapes and sizes greeted him and though all were unfashionably dressed, each had their own particular flair and character.

One initial look-through and he had already found two women he particularly liked.  It wasn’t so much their facial features that appealed to him, though he did notice that the two did somewhat resemble each other, but their aura.  Both had a kind, wholesome look to them that put him immediately at ease.  They looked like they would be good wives and mothers.

“What should I do when I find someone I like?” he asked. 

“Do you have someone you like already?”

“Yes.  Two, actually.”

“Well, tell me the numbers next to their photos and I’ll pull up some information about them in our database.”

He turned to one of the pages near the front of the catalogue.  “Number 3.”

“And the other?”

He flipped a few pages back.  “Number 15.”

The manager jotted down the numbers on the legal pad in front of him before turning to his computer.  A few taps on the worn keys of his keyboard and he said, “Number 3 is Thuy Trang.  She’s one of the newest women to the agency – just 18 years old.  She’s from a rural area outside of Ho Chi Minh City.  Her blood type is O, and she’s the youngest of three children.”

He blanched a little.  “18’s awfully young…”

“Well, all the women are young compared to you,” the man said rather bluntly.  “The oldest one is only 28, and she’s a bit of rare case.  We tend to only work with women between the ages of 18 to 25.  But…” and here the manager tapped his keyboard a few more times, “Number 15 is a little older.  She’s 24.  She’s also from a rural area outside of Ho Chi Minh City.  She’s the oldest child in her family and her blood type is A.” 

“What’s her name?”

“Linh Nguyen.”

* * *

There was a loud buzz and the light above the arrival gate turned red, signaling that passengers from Air China Flight 232 would soon be coming through the gates.  Tucking the photograph back into his shirt pocket, he proudly held his sign up in front of his chest.

A few minutes later, the slim figure of his wife walked tentatively through the gates.  Her eyes were larger than normal as they darted nervously from person to person and the hand that clutched her carry-on baggage was so tightly clenched around the handle that her knuckles had turned white from the strain.  She looked bewildered and frightened, and his heart went out to her immediately.  Before he could call out to her though, her gaze landed on him and a smile spread across her face.  Lifting her free hand, she gave him a wave as she walked eagerly toward him.

A large answering grin split his own face as he waved back.  His heart swelled as he realized this was the first time a woman had been so happy to see him.

There was no doubt about it.  His wife was coming home.

END

Rita’s Musings: This story was inspired by an article I found online about Vietnamese mail order brides in Singapore.  I set the story in China, however, because I’ve never been to Singapore and didn’t feel comfortable writing about a place I’ve never been to. This particular story only focuses on the events that happen to the husband prior to his bride’s arrival in China.  I may one day write a sequel which focuses on the wife’s struggles after her marriage as she tries to integrate herself into Chinese society.  For now, I hope you have enjoyed.  

For anyone who is interested in reading the article that inspired this piece, it can be found here:  http://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2012/05/the-plight-of-vietnams-mail-order-brides/257814/