Welcome home - return of a Shanghai Jew
By Adam Minter (LA Times)
Updated: 2006-01-17 10:43

He thanks her for the kindness of the Chinese during the war. "You saved our lives," he says. They pose together for a few photos, and then she smiles and waves as he disappears down the alley. "Our amma," he says. "When we sailed for Chile, she was on the dock crying."

It was a journey made with some reluctance. According to Moses, his family wanted to go to the United States in the fall of 1947, but the wait was too long. "My parents were worried that we wouldn't survive another summer in Shanghai," he explains. Moses would find a way to get to America anyway. "I emigrated on my own in 1962," he says.

In front of the massage parlor Moses hails a taxi that speeds down Changzhi Road. Xiaomei and Yide have asked him to tea. Sixty years ago the boulevard was the center of a thriving Jewish community known to some as "Little Vienna." Today, Chinese occupy the area and many of the blocks are empty plots strewn with rubble from recent demolitions of buildings with distinctly European architectural details. "It's OK," says Moses. "Those buildings were nothing to keep. Living inside of them was miserable." The taxi turns on Gaoyang Road, passes the former site of the Chaoufoong Heim, and stops in front of the building where the Moses family lived from 1945 to 1947. Waiting on the curb is Xiaomei.

He steps out of the taxi and embraces her. She beams, shaking both of his hands. She leads him down the alley and up the stairs to the small apartment where Yide awaits. On the table are bowls holding fruits, nuts and lotus root stuffed with sticky rice. "We don't know what you like," says Xiaomei. "So we prepared sweet things." But first they present Moses with gifts, including chocolate and other snacks. "And here," says Xiaomei, "some winter underwear to keep you warm."

Moses smiles and laughs as he unwraps the presents, his deep blue eyes sparkling with tears that he won't let fall. Yide shows him photographs of the family, including Xiaomei's mother, who just turned 90. Xiaomei invites him to stay with them when he returns to Shanghai. They explain that their apartment—Moses' old apartment building—may be razed next year. Overwhelmed, he stands and embraces them. "For 60 years I tried to forget," he says. "I didn't want to come back. I didn't want to be a victim." In their practical Shanghai manner, Xiaomei and Yide usher him to the table and encourage him to eat. He grasps his chopsticks and, with well-practiced precision, picks up a slice of lotus root and drops it into his bowl. "Not enough," Xiaomei says as she uses her chopsticks to add another serving.

"When I was a boy in Hongkew, I was always hungry," Moses says, his mouth full of sticky rice. "And the Chinese people fed me even though they had less." He shakes his head. "Now I come here and they give me food." Through glistening eyes he looks at Xiaomei.

"Welcome home," she says. "Eat."

(Courtesy of LA Times)