Betong, south Thailand, January, 1956
With the failure of the Baling Peace talks Chin Peng now felt that living in Peking, as they still thought of it, near the Chinese Communist Party was better both for him personally and also for the MCP, so he asked permission for this to happen. Even after that was granted it was not until December, 1960, that he departed. He had been worried about his successor so was overjoyed at the return of Comrade Ah Hai, who had gone to China in 1949 to be cured of tuberculosis, before he himself set forth. Once Ah Hai had settled in, Chin Peng told him he would be in charge in Betong as Deputy Secretary General with he himself remaining as Secretary General.
There was someone in the camp who had come from China before the Baling talks were started.[1] He was an emissary sent from Peking who had taken many months to reach Betong. He had two main tasks; one was to deliver a message so secret that it had to be remembered orally and of which he had forgotten some of the most important points. The other was, as a skilled radio operator, to mend the MCP HQ’s radio that had not functioned for six months. He was a middle-aged man, of medium height, with high cheek bones and a slightly protruding chin. His steady eyes that seldom blinked were calm and reflective. Even though he was exhausted on arrival he gave as much of his important message as he could remember before repairing the radio. In fact he never did remember the most important points so it was slightly ironic that his name, Meng Ru, was the same as the surname of Mencius, the Chinese Confucian philosopher, and Ru meaning scholar or learned man. A full Politburo meeting discussed his report, without knowing all of it, and on what was happening as far as the Communist Party of China’s attitude to the MCP was. There were also little driblets of news – never gossip, scandal or rumour, oh no! – that could make the Betong people’s job easier and as a background for Chin Peng’s proposed sojourn. As a reward for his having faced so many dangers in his long journey he was allowed to stay in Betong for as long as he wanted to: he was given the soubriquet of ‘Emissary’.
It had been during his move through western Laos that Meng Ru gradually noticed a change in people’s demeanour. It had not struck him before but here, even though he was escorted by comrades, he saw that people did not have the same non-smiling, furtive glances when passing strangers as he had grown up with, so become used to. There seemed to be no worry as to the ‘is he an enemy?’, ‘can I trust him?’, ‘will it count against me if I talk to him?’ frame of mind. In Thailand it was more obvious and something deep inside him told him that that was the way to live, not the way he had known till then. It only later struck him: by trying to keep the people in line through fear compared with how happy people seem when not bullied by ‘party’ functionaries has let me see that where I come from government sponsored life is one inhumane and least realised confidence trick. I must get out of it somehow. And now, living in the MCP camp, he could the more clearly see and the more keenly loathe the same deadening, damping, yes, demeaning attitude again. It struck him forcibly. However there was one man, more than one if his small group was also counted, who had the hard-to-define manner of being his own self. The Emissary found out that this man’s name was Ah Fat.
Initially the Emissary ‘sniffed’ at Ah Fat as dogs will sniff each other on first meeting but, in this case, only metaphorically and unobtrusively. He and Ah Fat became friendly. It was when the Emissary overheard Chin Peng telling Ah Fat that he had decided to send him back to Kuala Lumpur, that he made up his mind. I can’t lose anything by trying, can I? he asked himself.
Chin Peng had a person ‘mole’, Chan Man Yee, who worked as the Central Registry clerk in Special Branch, Malayan Police HQ in Kuala Lumpur. Her superior was Too Chee Chew, a.k.a. C C Too, a brilliant propagandist who was the Head of Special Branch, so she was a ‘gold mine’ of information. Quite some time before the Baling Conference Chin Peng had sent Ah Fat down to KL to find out from her what high Malayan government officials were thinking about and planning on peace talks between the MCP and the Government, the better that the Politburo could plan its own arguments. Now the Secretary General wanted her views on Malayan Government policy, not knowing that Chan Man Yee had decided to go back to China. Ah Fat had not told him otherwise and an excuse to go to KL and see his family and Mr Too was always welcome.
A day or two before Ah Fat, with his ‘deputy’, Wang Ming, a.k.a. Hung Lo, the Bear, were due to set off for Kuala Lumpur – it happened to be on Wednesday the 1st of March – the Emissary sidled up and said, ‘Comrade Ah Fat, let’s take a stroll together. I need to stretch my legs and I expect you do, also.’
‘How did you guess?’ Ah Fat answered with a smile.
After they were out of earshot, the Emissary said, ‘Comrade, I overheard you being told to go to Kuala Lumpur. What is it like there? I was told about it by my grandfather who was born there but, due quite why I never discovered, he moved to Peking as we called Beijing in those days.’
‘Oh, how interesting,’ Ah Fat answered in a neutral tone of voice, only showing peripheral interest and purposely not using the almost obligatory use of Comrade.
‘I expect in your job when you go to the capital city of Malaya you have lots of sensitive contacts, one way and another …’ and he let his voice trail off.
Ah Fat noticed that the initial ‘Comrade’ had not been uttered, thereby deliberately ignoring a required courtesy following his own non-use of the word. Tradecraft still sharp! he thought happily. After a judicious silence he said, ‘Well, yes, in my job I am bound to, “one way and another”,’ letting the emphasis sink in.
Rapport had been established but it was necessary for both men to let it ‘cook’ for a while so for about five minutes they walked on without talking. Ah Fat waited for the Emissary to break the silence, wondering how not to let his own double life be thought to exist. The Emissary stopped, turned and faced Ah Fat, looking at him eyeball to eyeball. ‘Is there anyone among those who you meet who knows how to get me back to my grandfather’s Malayan standing and be ready to advise me how to set about it?’
So I was not wrong! Ah Fat gave himself a pat on the back as he felt it best how to answer neutrally but coded. ‘Let me ask you a theoretical question, Emissary. Just suppose such an occurrence could be managed. Just suppose the answer was “yes for you alone”. What would your answer be when you enquire if your wife and children can be brought with you or can you go back and fetch them?’
‘I would say I had none, even if I had.’
So his mind has been made up already.
‘Suppose, again theoretically, I say, yes, I will put your case forward when I am next in KL. What would be your reaction if any of those here who might hear about it wonder why you had particularly asked me and ask you?’
‘I would deny it and say something to the effect that I was misunderstood when I had actually been saying how terrible such a happening would be.’
‘You mean your northern dialect, your kwok yi, not being understood by us southerners who speak hak ka wa or kwang tung wa?’ Hak Ka Wa, the language of the ‘hak’, guest people, because it was too far from Hong Kong to go back whence they had come straightaway, and Kwang Tung Wa, the language of Canton, also often known as poon tei wa, the ‘local’ language ,when referred to in Malaya. ‘In Cantonese you’ll be known as Mang Yu not as Meng Ru. Will you be ready to recognise your name then or will your ignorance give you away?’
The Emissary grinned with eyes button bright. ‘That is clever of you: yes. I can quickly get used to a southern pronunciation.’
Ah Fat smiled back conspiratorially. ‘And, again theoretically of course, how much would you be willing to pay if payment were asked?’
‘Only enough for moderate resettlement but, of course, I could answer questions.’
‘Of course. It would be rude not to, wouldn’t it?’ said in a tone of voice that implied more than the words themselves might indicate.
They paced slowly on, turned and Ah Fat pointed to the trees and plants. ‘If anyone were to be watching us I am teaching a northerner their names.’
That means he is on my side thought the Emissary.
Ah Fat had another question. ‘Let us say, for planning purposes, that the answer is yes. There would be, how shall I call it? an incubation or quarantine period or to be more friendly a “getting-to-know-one-another” period. Any problems there?’
‘Problems? I can’t see any from my side. No.’ The Emissary drifted off into a reverie and Ah Fat did not disturb him. ‘None there but there is one condition I feel I must ask, without any disrespect to you.’
‘And that would be what?’ Ah Fat asked with a delicate tinge of doubt in his voice.
‘Apart from you, I would want to travel with a British person, a fluent Chinese speaker.’
When Ah Fat did not make any comment, the Emissary continued ‘it would make me feel I was accepted and that any Malay, Chinese or Indian we met would not bother me as he might otherwise. And apart from that, if the person concerned had some official standing he could explain about my lack of required documentation. The Chinese document I carry may not be accepted in Malaya.’
‘It probably won’t be so your suggestion is an eminently sensible precaution. I will see what I can do for you but here and now there is no guarantee I can succeed. Have you got any spare passport-size photos?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘Because were one to be asked for in Kuala Lumpur for a temporary document, I could give it to them.’
‘I have a couple which I will give you. Now, supposing you do succeed, what happens then? I mean how and where do I meet up with the Englishman? That may not be easy.’
‘I’ll tell you something else that won’t be easy and that is going on south rather than returning north without any suspicion arising among the Politburo members and other interested people. Likewise, just suppose you do get away without any trouble, what will happen if there is a follow-up and you get caught?’
The Emissary grinned sheepishly. ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ he confessed.
‘Just suppose you had to make a journey through the jungle. Would you be ready for that?’
‘Have to be if that is the only way.’
Footwear? ‘What size are your feet?’
The Emissary told him. ‘Say nothing to anybody. Give no hint in speech or body language. Your tradecraft must be flawless at all times.’
