Kai and his mother were sitting on an Air China 747 in San Francisco International Airport, waiting impatiently for take-off. Kai’s father had passed away a year before in the spring of 1988. He was taking his mother home to visit his elder brother in China. The take-off had been delayed because one of the Chinese passengers failed to show up even though he had already checked his luggage. He had decided to remain in the US illegally. This incident took Kai back in time to his own painful and courageous decisions.

…. A 12 year old Kai was sitting on the train waiting to leave Beijing for Manchuria. Young Kai was confused about why he was leaving, not knowing he and his brothers were being forced to join their exiled parents in the small city of Tonghua. He had spent the past five years with an abusive grandmother and Big Brother in Beijing. Life in Tonghua wasn’t any easier for Kai who grew into a teenager with a different accent and a unique physical appearance - 6’7” by the age 15. But the most mind-boggling torment for Kai and his family was still to come. In 1966, the Cultural Revolution began. With half of his relatives in Taiwan, Kai and his family endured political persecution and discrimination. He and his brothers were again forced to leave the city to go to the countryside.

Kai set out to overcome these obstacles. He used his basketball skills to land a job in a Liuhe grain depot while playing for the depot’s team. Soon after, with China’s return to professional sports, two basketball coaches from the National Sports and Athletics Commission recruited him for the National Basketball Team’s training camp in Beijing. At the camp, Kai met his best friend Xiao, a track team member, who was later expelled because his father had worked for Kuomintang’s army. Kai remained a little longer and then was also expelled for the similar reason. Determined not to return to the isolation of the small town factory, he escaped to Canton. He was caught and then forced back to Beijing, placed in solitary confinement and put under investigation. The authorities suspected him of trying to defect to Hong Kong. Little do they understand, his goal was not to escape the country, but to escape the shackles of the Big Family, that undefined “everyone” that represents generations of tradition. He was nevertheless escorted back to the Liuhe grain depot.

After yet another attempt to escape, Kai was drafted by the Shenyang army team and sent to a combat unit for reeducation. The harsh conditions weakened him and, near collapse, he learned that Xiao had died, alone and in desperation. Kai was hospitalized. Struggling to pick himself up and begin again, Kai returned to the team and worked on his game. He joined the country’s top military team - the August 1st Team - and made his first trip abroad, defying the prediction that he would never be allowed to represent China abroad because he had relatives in Taiwan. He helped his team win several national titles. Yet, the National Team still rejected him. While on the August 1st Team, Kai witnessed various traps the Big Family set to control individuals. Before long he found himself at the first Tiananmen Square Incident in 1976 and was punished by the authorities. Not to be denied, Kai became the best forward in the country. Remaining an outsider, he soared to win the most important game of his life. He was unanimously selected by the recruiters for the National Team in 1978 for China’s first entry in the World Basketball Championships and the tour of USA. He had the last laugh as he had promised to Xiao and to himself - he defeated the Big Family.

Yet, the struggle did not end. Searching for happiness, Kai had his first sexual encounter with a Chinese volleyball player. He retired at the peak of his professional career. He entered college and met an American exchange student. He finally tasted true happiness. They married and he left for America.

…. Back in 1989, Kai again stepped into Tiananmen Square, amid a student pr

Kai Chen and his family currently reside in Los Angeles, California.  Daughter Alex now attends Yale University and play for the school’s women’s basketball team.  His other daughter Dominique attends Marlborough School in Los Angeles and play basketball for the school’s varsity team.  His wife Susan is a partner in a law firm in Los Angeles. 

Author's personal website:  www.freewebs.com/oneinabillion  

Author's political forum:  http://www.youpai.org/forums/viewforum.php?f=5

- PROLOGUE -

It was a full flight.

Mother and I were on board an Air China Boeing 747 headed for Shanghai from Los Angeles via San Francisco. After a short stop at the San Francisco Airport, we had re-boarded the airplane. Mother looked around impatiently, talking with a passenger nearby.

“It’s so suffocating inside. Why don’t they turn on the air conditioning?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it won’t work while the airplane’s on the ground.”

“It’s been already two hours since we were back in here. What is going on?”

“I am not sure. Something has happened, that‘s for sure…”

Right behind us was a delegation of Chinese farm workers. They had just boarded in San Francisco. After talking with a few members of the delegation, I learned that they had been sent by the Chinese government to work in the United States in the Spring of 1988. Now they were ready to go home after a year. Most of the money they had made would be turned over to the Chinese government. But they told me that even though they would only keep about one quarter of what they had made, it was still substantially more than what they could have made in China in the same amount of time.

Only 17 hours from home, only 17 hours from their loved ones, their mood was cheerful and relieved. They talked light-heartedly behind us. Someone made jokes. All of them burst into laughter.

The cheerful laughs were abruptly silenced by a stern voice. “Hey! Hey! Shut up and be quiet, you fools. If you want to talk, go home and talk! If you want to laugh, go home and laugh!”

I looked toward the source of the contemptuous voice. It was a flight attendant, dressed in a bluish-gray uniform. There were no special marks on his uniform, other than two red pins on the chest, one was that of Air China, the other printed with five familiar gilded characters of Mao’s hand writing: Serve The People. He didn’t wear a cap. But in this stifling hot compartment, his uniform jacket was buttoned up all the way to his neck. He had a young and handsome face with all the right features in the right places. His eyes were dim and shallow, and the corners smooth. From that tightly closed mouth with its droopy corners, a trace of senseless acrimony leaked out. I could tell from the way the other attendants looked at him that he was the man in charge.

The farm workers’ laughs, to my dismay, were thus terminally extinguished. People lowered their heads, lowered their voices, and the chatting turned into whispers.

A little later, several men in uniform hurried into the compartment. They roamed among the farm workers behind us, muttering something in serious but hushed tones, discussing something secretively with several of the passengers. Then two of the farm workers walked out with them docilely and quietly.

I turned around to ask one of the farm workers what happened.

“One guy in our group escaped. He already checked in his luggage. He even bought a few packs of cigarettes at the airport to take home. But apparently he changed his mind. We have to send someone to help pick out his luggage, because there is an airline rule about it…”

I didn’t hear the rest. I didn’t want to ask any more questions either. A powerful surge of nostal