天使島詩社 -- 華裔移民美國的苦難歷程

我知道天使島在何處，因為幾乎天天能看到的。清晨從東灣搭便車去市裡上班，從奧克蘭連接舊金山的海灣大橋上看去，天使島似一片綠洲在橋右邊的海灣漂浮，那蔥綠而又飄渺的景象令人既迷惑又嚮往。真的嗎？真有天使居住在這方綠洲，終日漂泊蕩漾於通往天堂之水上嗎？出於很多原因在舊金山灣區住了十五年的我卻從未涉足天使島。這期間，這座島嶼已經修成正果，成了州立公園了。是啊，儘管我知道天使島的具體位置，除了道聽途說當年華裔新移民曾被關押在此之外，別的就知之甚少了。

前不久，天使島移民站基金會(Angel Island Immigration Station Foundation)來函，誠邀本人上島觀摩移民站的故址。一位朋友知曉我平常喜歡弄些中文詩英譯，就給基金會作了個舉薦。此行的目的在於細察中國移民在移民站羈押室木板牆上留下的中文詩。滄海橫流，如今已經到了保存原貌，文物入檔，昭示後人的年代了。

2002年1月15日晨起薄霧漂浮，太陽吃力地爬上了東面的山丘，使得海灣變得分外翠綠。即使有一股冷颼颼的氣流讓人感到空氣的凝重，作為遊園的天氣也算是晴爽的了。驅車前往啼波浪(Tiburan)的路上，突然間想起來天氣預報說今天午後有雨。從啼波浪這邊觀島，角度正是海灣大橋觀島的反面。到了近前，這島一下子威風了起來，變得孔武高大，露出懷抱里眾多的大樹和巨石；正襟危坐，任憑四下里波濤洶湧，威嚴不可侵犯哩。從舊金山漁人碼頭來的遊船航程較長，而啼波浪始發的渡船差不多十分鐘就抵達島上了。天使島公園管理員已經等候多時，熱烈歡迎。兩輛麵包車接送客人去移民站故址，路不遠，翻過一座小山包就到了。

天使島移民站早年也有專用碼頭，和地處紐約州的埃利斯島(Ellis Island)一樣接待來自世界各地的移民。與埃利斯島不同的是，把原址在市裡的移民站搬到島上來，其用心明顯是要把新移民特別是中國移民與外界完全隔離起來。美國不歡迎中國移民，早在1882年美國國會就簽署了赤裸裸的《華裔移民排斥法案》。那時只有早年淘金來美定居華人的直系親屬才允許移民美國。為數不多的廣東人確有親戚在美國，當然有人出錢從黑市買了些假證明也乘船來了。只是人們沒有想到這頭等待他們的竟是無路可逃的監牢。天使島移民站的設計方案包括了隔離新移民和遣返不可容分子的意圖。儘管建成時高層官員明確表明此地不適合住人，天使島移民站還是於1910年投入使用，作為「華裔不受歡迎」的標誌性設施沿用了30年之久。遙想當年，種族偏見和種族歧視根本不用掩飾，人家不赤裸裸惡狠狠對你就算很給你面子了。

亞洲人特別是中國人當年被稱作東方佬曾經飽受美國移民局的凌辱。中國來的鄉巴佬被視為除了攜帶偽造文件外滿身都是令人髮指的疾病。移民局列表存檔加了好幾例華裔移民病症，一旦檢出，立刻遣返。新移民若患有可治病，當務之急是入院治病，出院后才有資格接受移民審查。這種粗暴的「歡迎儀式」從新移民下船那一刻開始，人人被請入迷宮一般的移民局辦公大樓，排隊受審。亞裔和歐洲人當然是分開的。例行註冊，體檢，然後再按種族和性別關押在不同的營房裡，配偶在關押期間一概不能見面。十二歲以下的兒童隨母親，大男孩入住男性營房。在原本無路可逃的島嶼上，關押在營房的人是不允許離開營房一步的。房間之間的通道，室外台階均有鐵籬笆隔絕。這哪裡是什麼移民站，分明就是設備齊全的監獄。表面上還要貌似公道平等，因為新移民個個均被送到了島上接受審查；種族歧視的嘴臉赤裸裸地暴露在光天化日之下，因為一般人會在兩三天之內就能離島而去，唯有華裔被羈押的時日最長，有人在此被羈押了數年之久。早期華裔移民平均被羈押的時間為三個月左右，後來因為華人團體和外交界的強烈抗議和請願，華裔移民接受審查的時間才有所縮短。

半個多世紀過去了，那些曾經飽受凌辱的人大多已經老去，只是他們的子孫至今憤憤不平。能不憤恨嗎？那屈辱有著切骨之痛，幾代人的心靈還在感受著扭曲和痛楚，心底還在悲號哭泣。

也許是報應，1940年的一場大火燒毀了辦公大樓，天使島移民站從此被關閉了。還好，沒有人在這場大火里喪生；殘存的營房第二次世界大戰時曾經用來關押戰俘。戰後天使島一度為美國陸軍使用，軍隊撤離后不久，這裡成了州立公園。

那天我們是作為貴賓被接上島的，公園管理員專門為我們打開了不對外開放的移民站醫院；這是座名副其實的危房，處處岌岌可危。公園管理員注意到住院部牆上有些塗鴉，想讓我們鑒定一下是否有什麼深意。醫院裡華裔專用的樓梯已然塌陷，來人只能手持手電筒從當年歐裔專用的樓梯上樓。住院部的牆上除了日本戰俘的胡亂塗鴉之外別無名堂。

相較之下，關押華裔男性的營房裡的木板牆上工工整整，洋洋洒洒，刻滿了許許多多的中文詩，令來人大為驚嘆，交口稱絕。可惜設在辦公大樓二樓的華裔女性營房因為大火而毀，牆上是否有詩句已不得而知。置身營房，來人無法不讚歎詩文巨大的規模和詩人們不屈不饒的人性光華。這些詩行在冷酷的牢房譜寫了一篇中華民族也是人類精神的傳奇。

讀過中文詩的人都知道詩歌是中國文化的主流，為炎黃子孫世世代代輸送著力量，美好和希望。中文的每一個字都是從形象演變而來。中華兒女是呼吸著詩歌出生，我們的祖先創作了平常百姓也能讀懂的詩和歌。中國詩歌有一種神奇的力量，它能凈化魂靈，給身處困境的懦弱者帶來溫情，給人內心一個全新的理想境界。中國人信仰詩歌，詩歌幾乎是中國的國教。與宗教不同的是，詩歌的力量源自詩人的內心世界，而非神外的萬能之物。華裔子孫，只有能背誦詩文的才算是有教養的孩子，幾千年曆來如此。

我突然明白了，半個多世紀之前被關押在黑暗潮濕的牢房裡的一夥中國人，用詩歌來打發愁困有其內在的道理。可以想象，這樣的境遇使得他們有時間認識自我，有機會直面自己的靈魂，苦難以詩歌的形式從他們的靈肉里脫穎而出。儘管如此，兩間偌大營房裡幾乎佔據了每一寸空間的詩文和工整的書法還是令人驚愕。每一寸手眼能及的空間都認真地刻寫了有模有樣的正楷漢字；每首詩都佔據一席合理的位置，配上了相對相應的書法，顯得有組織有紀律。半個世紀流失了，這些嚴謹的字詞書法透過時間的沖刷油漆的覆蓋依然風采不減，有聲有色地向後人訴說著當年這個世界角落所發生的事件。在消沉和無助的境遇里，這是多大的成就啊。即使詩歌本身不足以流芳萬世，但這數量之巨，工程之浩大足可以移山造海的了！ 

邊走邊看，透過層層油漆能看到被羈押人的從容，詩行里體現著高度的秩序。當年新移民的年齡大多數在二十歲左右，甚至更小，集中營的日子對他們來說是純粹的痛苦和人生挫折，這些都在他們的詩歌里得到了充分的渲染。令人敬佩哪，儘管他們完全有理由沮喪消沉，卻沒有坐在角落裡生悶氣，孤苦度日，也沒有一蹶不振而無所事事。人在海外，身陷囹圄，還沒有忘記繼承祖先幾千年的傳統，在這方天使莫名其妙走失了的地方，他們用詩歌與命運抗爭過。在這些木屋裡，一幫好男兒傳授研習過中國古典的詩歌，舉行過詩歌比賽，評選，抄寫，木刻等一系列見靈魂顯精神的工序，留下了自己的心聲。人們從詩歌里能看見長流的淚水，緊鎖的眉頭，也能看見人類不屈不撓的精神，遭遇艱辛時的從容和豪邁。也許，他們中間有一位年長者把一幫子後生領上了詩歌之路，一條能讓受屈的靈魂走出黑暗、超越偏見和仇恨的道路，一條人類精神戰勝冰冷頑石不馴海水的光榮之路。

移民局官員不喜歡營房的牆壁被刻畫，訓斥了刻字的人之後用油漆覆蓋了牆上的詩文。只是寫詩的慾望和行動沒有因此而湮滅。油漆上面又出現了新詩文；然後又被油漆覆蓋，一共達三層之深。50多年之後，最早刻入的詩文得以保留，和後人交流著心思。

走出營房，一月里的陽光昏黃，但還是照花了我的眼睛，以至於我竟把一座樹樁當成了野鹿。乘船，開車回家的路上，耳邊總能聽到從時間長廊另一邊傳來的聲音。真的，天使會講中文也能做詩嗎？直面了沉重和悲傷的心兒此刻希冀有一場雨，一場大雨。。。但願歷史不再重蹈醜惡的覆轍，這樣天使才有可能重返家園。。。

（原文為英文，寫於2002年1月29-30日，中文譯文發表在《中外論壇》雜誌2002年第二期）

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Angel Island Poetry Club

I know where Angel Island is because I see it virtually everyday on my way to work. I carpool from East Bay to the City every morning. On the Oakland-San Francisco Bay Bridge, Angel Island always appears on my right as the biggest piece of land floating in the Bay, so it seems. From time to time I am mesmerized by its green and mystic appearance from afar. Do angels really reside on that blissful oasis amidst of this vast stretch of heavenly water? For some reason in the past 15 years living in the Bay Area, I hadn't found time to visit the Island, which has been a state park for as long as I have been here. But I certainly know where Angel Island is, though I knew very little of what is on it, except that some Chinese were detained there long time ago.

The other day, the Angel Island Immigration Station Foundation sent me an invitation to join a group visit to the Station on the Island. A friend who knows my past involvement with Chinese poetry and translation introduced me to the Foundation. The purpose of this visit was to take a close look at the Chinese poems written on the walls of the old barracks by former detainees, Chinese immigrants who came through and were detained at the Immigration Station between 1910 and 1940.  Time has, indeed, changed and now is the time for preservation, documentation and education of the site.

January 25, 2002, brought us a hazy sun out of the hills on the east to the emerald Bay. The air was rather chilly and heavy but the day was pleasant enough for a field trip. Driving to Tiburon, for no reason I suddenly recalled that the forecast said it would rain late in the day. At Tiburon dock, the view is almost exactly the opposite side of the Bay Bridge; from that angle, Angel Island suddenly gained some real bulk, became taller, wider and more formidable with many trees and giant rocks, holding steady facing the currents of the Bay. The boat ride from Fisherman's Wharf in the city may take much longer, but for us it was a rather brief ride, about 10 minutes, more or less. Two vans were waiting there on the pier at the Island side with friendly park rangers to greet us and take us to the station which is just over the hills from the pier.

The Station, which used to have a pier of its own, was built to process newly arrived immigrants from all over the world, like Ellis Island in New York. Unlike at Ellis Island, the real reason or intention, rather, to relocate the immigration station here from the City, was to isolate the new immigrants, the Chinese immigrants in particular. The Chinese were not welcome here as the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act made amply clear.  In those days, the only way for a Chinese person to come to the land of gold was through immediate family relation with earlier arrivals. Some in Canton, indeed, had blood relations while others bought faulty papers from the streets, in order to escape the economic hardship in China at the time. Little did they know what awaited them was a prison that promised no escape. The Station was so designed to serve the dual purposes of cutting off the newly arrived from other Chinese in the City and making it easier for the authorities to interrogate and deport the undesirables.  The Station, although declared as unfit for human conditions by the immigration authorities at the higher up levels, nevertheless opened for business around 1910 and lasted three decades as a device and symbol of "Chinese are unwelcome here." Biases and racism used to wear a very thin mask, if not going completely naked.

Asians or Orientals, as they were branded at the time, the Chinese in particular, were singled out and treated with outright cruelty. The Chinese peasants were suspected, besides false entry, to have carried sordid diseases. Several diseases of suspected as common among Chinese were listed as sufficient reasons for deportation. Those who carried treatable diseases would first have to check into the hospital on site for treatment before their being processed for other faults.

The rude welcome ceremony started by lining every boat person into the long queue off the boat inside the maze of the administration building, Asians and Europeans segregated of course. They were registered, checked out by health officials, and then put into barracks, again segregated by race, gender. Married couples were separated for the duration and children under 12 stayed with their mothers, while older boys were locked up in the men's barracks. Already the Island promised no escape; once detained, those immigrants also lost the privilege to wander off the premises as even steps and walkways were enclosed with barbed wire. It was prison in its truest sense. The thin mask of fairness illustrated itself in the fact that every newly arrived must go through the process on the island; the naked racism showed in that only the Chinese were kept there for the longest time, up to several years for a few truly unfortunate while most non-Chinese would get off the island in a matter of two to three days. Some detainees even complained that Japanese POWs were treated with more dignity than innocent Chinese at the same site. On average, many Chinese spent up to three months in the barracks at the beginning; the process was sped up somewhat under fierce protests and lobbying from Chinese communities and diplomats off the Island.

Who can blame them when the children of the Chinese immigrants are so riled even today about such a harsh treatment of their parents and grandparents several decades ago? The pain has cut deep and still hurts in some hearts. 

As some form of justice, the station was closed down after the administration caught fire in 1940. Luckily nobody died. The barracks were later used to detain POWs during WWII and the Island was handed to the US Army for a period of time. Some time after the Army left the Island, it was converted into a state park.

Anyway, that day we came as honored guests. In our honor, the rangers opened up the old hospital that is now falling apart; the staff had noticed some writing on the walls in the hospital ward but wanted us to verify if there is any significance in the drawing and writing. The Chinese stairways were broken, so we had to go up, with the aid of flashlights, the designated European stairway. There wasn't much to see except a few scribbles by Japanese POWS.

By contrast, the most amazing part of the Immigration Station has to be the poems meticulously carved on the wooden walls of the Chinese men's barracks as the Chinese women's barracks were burnt down inside the old administration building. One can't help but notice the massive undertaking and brave display of an unyielding human spirit in the poems. Their writing converted this once cruel place into a Chinese or human legend.

I read many poems in Chinese. Poetry seerves as such a constant flow in Chinese culture, forever supplying strength, beauty and hope to the children of the Yellow Emperor.  Every character is cut out of an image.  We were born to breathe poetry in and out as our forefathers have made poetry an easier access even to the common folks.  Poetry in a magically Chinese way seems to purify the soul from everyday dust and to provide those in predicament with warmth and guidance to uplift their spirit to far and beyond. Poetry is almost a Chinese religion, only the strength is drawn from within, as opposed to from something almighty and above.  Only those children who can recite a few poems can be said of properly schooled and cultured.

So, it was almost logical to me that a bunch of hapless detainees locked up in the dark and wet barracks in this forgotten corner of the world more than half century ago resorted themselves to poetry. In my mind, the poetry surfaced from within their souls when they had time to encounter themselves here.

What stunned me was how every inch of the walls in two big rooms was covered with beautifully crafted characters of poetry. Every inch reachable by the hand and eye was filled with calligraphy of rather excellent apprenticeship of the art. The poems were put up in good order, decent craftsmanship, and plenty of dignity, all indicated a highly organized effort.  More than half century later, the beauty of the calligraphy determinedly shines through time and the many layers of paint, and still speaks volumes about what went on in this corner of the world.  What a massive undertaking in a time of depression and hopelessness. The poetry may not be of top notch quality, but the sheer number of the works can move mountains and part the Bay.

After walking through several rooms and staring at the characters painted over, I could sense a well-organized life among the detainees, at least in their effort to express themselves in poetry. Most of the Chinese detainees were in their 20s and teens at the time. The time spent behind the walls of the barracks was nothing but sheer agony and frustration, sentiments that were clearly present in their poetry. But the remarkable part was that they did not sulk in vain and emptiness as they were entitled to do under such harsh light. Instead, they fell back to this thousand year old Chinese tradition. They found a noble outlet for their life's struggles in a foreign island where the angels were conspicuously absent. Here there was teaching and learning of the ancient art of the Chinese poetry in the classic tradition. They probably did their poetry contests and went through their selection and calligraphy and the meticulous carving process. They poured their heart out for us to see. Yes, we see tears, twisted brows; but also the joy and satisfaction of getting in touch with human spirit and reliving some of the moments of their ancestors treading treacherous waters. There might be an elder who led the young onto this path, a path that paved its way out of the darkness of bias and hatred and into the light of human spirit triumphing over cold rock and ocean water.

The record showed that the authorities in the station didn't like the walls to be carved. So they scolded the young men who did the carving and ordered to paint it over. But the writing and the teaching of the poetry couldn't be suppressed. More were written on the paint; another layer of paint was slapped on; at the end the paint is three layers deep. And more than half a century later, the originally carved poems are the ones still reaching out to the visitors through thick paint.

Coming out of the barracks, I was dazzled by even the faint sunlight of this late January day. I thought I saw a deer, but it was only a tree stump. On the way back on the boat and in the car, I kept hearing voices that seem to be speaking across the corridors of time. Could angels write poetry and speak Chinese? The heart encountering heavy grief would welcome some rain, a heavy downpour ...  Let's hope the ugly part of history will never repeat itself so that angels can return to their habitat ...

January 29-30, 2002

[圖片均為網上共享，不是個人攝影，特此說明。]

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