Plea for final farewell: Chinese families tell of dreams that died with stowaways

by Alex Tizon
Seattle Times staff reporter

They were known as case Nos. 56, 57 and 58.

This much was on record: They were Chinese, they were males, and they had lost their lives crossing the ocean to America. They died of acute malnutrition and dehydration brought on by severe seasickness. Eventually their names, but nothing of their lives, became known.

Now their families in China are telling the victims' stories and are seeking help in claiming the bodies of their dead. The families have neither the money nor the connections to ship the bodies home. And they have had no luck securing passage for themselves to the U.S.

"I would like to see my husband for the last time. Besides that, I don't have too many wishes," said Chen Shaolin, 29, through an interpreter. Chen and relatives of the other victims were interviewed by telephone from their homes in Fujian province on China's southeastern seaboard. The conversations were difficult, often tearful. They talked about the three men.

Their names were Jiang Dianbiao, Zhu Benqing and Zhang Hui. One was a farmer, one a construction worker, one an odd-jobber. All were unschooled and poor, and all came from the same place, a village of 80,000 east of Fujian's capital city of Fuzhou.

A large majority of the estimated 50,000 Chinese who sneak into the U.S. every year come from the region around Fuzhou. Most come by plane, on tourist or student visas, and simply never return to China. Many others come by car, driving across the Mexican or Canadian border. Usually, only the poorest come as stowaways on fishing and cargo boats.

The three men did not know each other when they entered the 40-foot cargo container that would become their tomb. Fifteen others entered the container with them, all apparently recruited by the same "snakehead," as human smugglers are called in China.

The Cape May left Hong Kong the day after Christmas. The voyage took 16 days. The men drank bottled water and ate apples and crackers. They urinated in empty water bottles. Air entered through a small opening. For most of the trip, the container was completely dark except for a few glowing watch dials.

All of the men became seasick.

Zhang Hui, 25, died on the first day of the new century - seven days into the voyage. He left behind his mother, father and two brothers. He was the middle child, the slightest and dreamiest of the family.

His parents said Zhang did not tell them he was leaving for America. One day, he just left. The family learned of his fate weeks later.

Zhang, with only an elementary-school education, worked mainly odd jobs. Often he would make handicrafts or furniture. But he had not found steady work in three years and was desperate to help his family.

Zhang's father is a medical practitioner but makes only 1,000 yuan, or $121, a month. His mother, suffering from severe arthritis, is an invalid. The family borrowed money to pay her medical expenses. The older brother said he thinks Zhang went to America so he could help pay those expenses.

When Zhang died at sea, the other stowaways began screaming for help. They shouted for hours at a time, sometimes banging on the side of the container with cans. The stowaways thought the crew heard the cries but ignored them.

Another week passed.

Jiang Dianbiao, 35, died Jan. 7. He left behind a wife and two children, ages 3 and 8. His widow, Chen Shaolin, 29, has not told the 3-year-old of his father's death.

Chen said the government forced Jiang to undergo a vasectomy after the birth of their son violated the country's one-child policy. She thinks the surgery, three years ago, permanently weakened him and may have been the reason he succumbed on the journey.

Jiang was a subsistence farmer, growing enough rice and vegetables to feed his family. He made no money to speak of. He and his wife discussed the plan to sneak into America, and both agreed it was worth the risk to improve the family's prospects.

Somehow the couple came up with a $1,000 down payment for Jiang's passage, with the rest of the $38,000 fee to be paid after he found work in the U.S. The trip to America was supposed to be the answer.

But now Chen and her two children have been forced to move in with her mother, who was close to Jiang.

"My mother treated him like he was her son," Chen said. The mother was so traumatized that she has been hospitalized since news of Jiang's death. Chen spends many days at the hospital with her.

Neighbors and relatives have rallied around the family, but Chen says, "The future will be very hard for us."

By the time Jiang died, the ocean journey had taken on nightmarish proportions. The two bodies were stacked in a back corner of the container. The survivors tried to keep as far away as possible.

The container had filled with debris and waste, and the air was increasingly rank. Excrement leaked out of plastic bags. In the darkness, the men could not tell bottles apart and would mistake urine for water.

The day before the Cape May docked in Seattle, more than two weeks after leaving Hong Kong, Zhu Benqing died.

He was 30 and married, with a 2-year-old daughter. The daughter, Zhu Shiyao, does not know her father is dead. She has been told he is working in America.

Zhu worked construction when he could find the work. He never made much money, and the most his wife earned working in a glove factory was 60 yuan, or $7.25, a month.

His widow, Jiang Saimei, said she and her husband agreed that he would go to America first, and she would follow as soon as they had enough money. The widow said Zhu paid no fee for his passage but was allowed to go based on his promise to pay the $38,000 fee while in the U.S.

Now Jiang Saimei, 28, spends her days staying close to their daughter. They have moved in with Jiang Saimei's elderly father, a rice farmer.

"Not well," she said, when asked how she was holding up. "I hope you can help me. I would like to see my husband."

The Cape May docked at Terminal 18 on Harbor Island on Jan. 10. The 15 survivors were hospitalized for the same ailments that killed their three comrades. Then they were placed in detention, where they remain, awaiting action by the Immigration and Naturalization Service.

Many of the survivors suffer from depression and post-traumatic stress. At least one has attempted suicide, said Alan Lai of the Chinese Information and Service Center, a local social-service agency.

Lai has been in regular contact with the detainees in Seattle and with the families of the dead in Fujian province.

The agency has been trying to help the family members come to Seattle so they can put their deceased to rest.

The families do not want the bodies shipped back to China because they fear the government will confiscate them.

Said Jiang's widow, Chen: "I have an uncle who tried to leave and was arrested. He was beat up and put in jail. It has been more than a year, and we still don't know where he is jailed."

What the families want most is to come to Seattle to pay their last respects, but they have made no progress in obtaining the necessary travel documents. Both widows say they have tried repeatedly to set up appointments at the U.S. Consulate in Guangzhou. The consulate, they think, has been indifferent.

Chen said she cannot afford to keep calling the consulate, which is in Guangdong province, because each call costs about 20 yuan, "equal to two meals." They don't have any money.

Sen. Patty Murray, D-Washington, who contacted the State Department on the families' behalf, received a discouraging telegram from Edward McKeon, the U.S. consul general in Guangzhou: "While their applications will receive every consideration," the telegram said, "they should realize their situation arises because of their relatives' attempt to enter the United States illegally."

Lai, of the Chinese Information and Service Center, said the family members in Fujian, like the stowaways themselves, are "people from the countryside, simple people. They don't have a clue about international travel."

The family members who most want to come to the U.S., Lai recently learned, do not even have passports. Without Chinese passports, they have little chance of obtaining travel visas from the U.S. Consulate.

So four months after learning of their loved ones' deaths, the families are not one step closer to claiming their dead or saying goodbye to them in person. The widow Chen said she looks at her 3-year-old son all the time, not knowing how to begin to tell him the truth.

Alex Tizon's phone message number is 206-464-2216.

Copyright © 2000 The Seattle Times Company

Copyright © 2000 The Seattle Times Company