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I would wake up early in the morning and, looking out of the window, admire the already bustling milling village that was laid out below me. All the millers would be hard at work, feeding the mills that came alive with the sound of the crushing stones. Quickly, I’d get dressed and head out to play with the other kids in the village. When we didn’t have to attend school, we’d go swimming in the Suzhou Creek (吴淞江), or on a cold day, play “Forcing the City Gates”. Occasionally, we’d watch the elder men play Mahjong, which would often end in some hysteric craze of laughter or screams. We formed one very large family, even though only some of the villagers were related. Now they are all gone; their descendants have left Shanghai for their hometown of Shouxian (寿县). I, alone, revisit our derelict vestiges, and wait for the red brick walls to crumble as apartment complexes continue to rise. Once, I was heir to one of China’s largest flour mills. Today, I’m only another elder, playing Mahjong (麻将) in the alleys of the French Concession, a testament to the on-going transformation in Shanghai. [Jack Mur] |
