Chasing the Dragon by Jackie Pullinger Read Free Book Online Page B

still more difficult, Chan Wo Sai had a speech impediment, which made conversation hard even for fluent Cantonese speakers. Our great point of contact was the drum pad I gave him; it is a sheet of rubber stuck on a wooden board on which you can practice, with drumsticks, making a noiseless drum. The drum pad provided the perfect excuse for going to see him regularly. He was supposed to practice with it, but he seldom did, and in any case he had the most hopeless sense of rhythm. But he was pleased to find that someone was interested in him. This was the first time in his life that anyone had shown care for him.
    As time went on, I found myself constantly thinking about him, which alarmed me. My English mind had been trained to think that love for a boy must be romantic, and because I was a Christian, that sort of love would eventually lead to marriage. Yet that, of course, was impossible and ridiculous; my mind told me that he was a very ugly boy with a hopeless background. But I really did love him, and I prayed for him continually. I got to the point where I could quite seriously and willingly have given my life for him.
    After some time, I was able to understand—and was surprised by—what I saw in myself. It was as if God had given me a special love for him and that I was meant to show it, although it was not necessarily an emotion that should or could be returned. This love was for his good; it was quite different from any love for other people that I had before, in which I had always wantedsomething in return. I had never before loved somebody entirely for his benefit without caring what he felt for me. So it was really for Chan Wo Sai that I opened a club just for young people.
    Of the various groups of people in need in the Walled City, none were worse catered to than the young teenagers. At least the younger children had the chance to go to primary school, and most Chinese parents, no matter how poor, encouraged this. But the young teenagers had nothing; getting into secondary school was almost impossible for a Walled City boy, even if his parents could afford it, which was unlikely.
    Teenagers often found work in the sweated-labor plastic factories where the hours were unlimited and the pay pitiful. Then, disheartened by the life of ceaseless work, they dropped out. Many boys, and sometimes girls, left home to find shelter in some one-room hovel where lots of others, all following the same path, slept. Soon, with nothing to do, they drifted into crime; the Triad gangs often provided the only other employment available.
    My involvement with Chan Wo Sai grew during the summer of 1967, when all of China was thrown into confusion by the activities of the Red Guards. The fever crossed the border into Hong Kong; trouble was skillfully stirred by local agitators. Knowing nothing about politics, I remained blissfully unaware of what was going on, although there were riots all over the colony.
    I did discover, however, that some of the Walled City boys were being paid to pick up stones and throw them. I felt that they could just as easily be persuaded to come on a picnic. So one hot, humid day in June, I said to Auntie Donnie rather pompously, “I think the Lord would have me start a youth club.” I had visions of a handpicked team of handsome helpers from Hong Kong Island who would sweep in with a beautifully organized program while I sat back and applauded. I envisaged a room open evenings and weekends; it would be a place where young people could play table tennis and take part in all the other normal activities available to boys and girls in a big city. It equally could be a place where they would hear about Jesus. I envisaged committeediscussions, prayer meetings, program planning and further discussion. Auntie Donnie was more practical. “Good, I’ve been praying for that for years,” she said. “When do you start? Next week?”
    We started one week later. I had not yet put together my handpicked team, and we