Class Stories

Westward Expansion Diary

So, I'm back. This story is pretty old, it was a project from last year for US History. We had to write a short diary entry that had to do with Westward Expansion. I wrote a Chinese character, and since I am ultra-white, it is very possible that I got many things about her past wrong. Please forgive my lack of research.

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January 11, 1854

Mama surprised me today. It was the first time since the twins were born that I received a present for my birthday. At least, one that is not food or clothing. When Nuo asked what I was going to use it for, I decided to remember. Both life in China, and the past years in California.

When Ba married Mama, he was a farmer with a good amount of money, for a peasant. They lived in comfort for many years, not seeing much change, even after I was born. But then, Ba's parents died, and then twins were born. Two days in a row. Expenses were high, and our fund low (it was winter). After, Ba had to sell the farm and we moved to the village. Ba was a peddler, destitute (Louise gave me that word), and desperate. When Nuo was born, I was nine. Still, I picked flowers from the mountain fields and sold them, in hopes of supporting my family. At the same time, many of our neighbors were leaving for the United States. They heard tales of golden rivers and houses made of money. Ba and I worked tirelessly for years, Mama even move mats out of mountain grass I collected for her. When I was fourteen, a bought us six tickets for California.

The ride over the Pacific was hell. Three months of seasickness and death. One little boy was standing at the railing, when a wave rose above us and plucked him off the ship. His mother later died of disease, and his father of a broken heart. The mood was the same as the waves; cold and harsh. But when the Bay came into view we all cheered as if they were handing us the gold.

Ba found us a nice family with a wagon not long after we docked. They offered to take us to Coyote Diggings for free, a rarity in California. The while ride, and even after, when we bought our supplies, the reality of where we were hadn't set in. I was busy doing what I did back home. wrangling Ru and Fai, the twins, while Mama watched Nuo. It was only at night, crammed between the boys, that it truly hit me. We had left the green, rainy mountains of farms and villages for dry hills of rock, with the promise of gold in them. Rivers ran through valleys of tents and wooden towns. I heard many people call it the wilderness, but all we saw was civilization. I didn't know it at the time, but that was a dead giveaway that we were too late.

In a week, we had a claim. It was tiny, only twenty feet of riverbed. I was later told that the area had already been mined, the made to look new so more money could be made off it.

For weeks, I spent my life panning for gold, eating meals, corralling siblings, and sleeping. No playing, no fun. Our neighbors were hostile, jealous of our money we still had from home. It was gone quickly, however, due to the tax all Chinese were forced to pay. The Americans began to hate us

And yet, Mama still managed to make a friend. Widow Mary, we called her. She and her husband had brought their orphaned grandchildren, Louise and Ezra, here for a better life. Instead, her husband was killed when one of the underground mines collapsed, leaving his poor family alone and without income. So, they traveled steadily north, searching for a cheap claim. They had been here for a year, and found nothing.

Louise, a year older than me, became my best friend, and her brother befriended my younger siblings. Of the entire time we were there, these few weeks were the best. It made the sweltering heat and constant hunger bearable. But it did not last.

Early in the morning, on the last day of August, Louise burst into our ten crying and screaming. She was impossible to understand, but we all got the idea. I comforted Louise and Mama comforted the kids, while Ba went to the Aften's tent. The day before, Louise and I had gone into town, while Widow Mary and Ezra had stayed behind. And old man had offered them water, a witness said, and they drank it. They were having stomach pains, but blamed it on hunger. Now, they were dead from dysentery. There wasn't even a proper funeral, Ba just buried them in the fast-filling cemetery.

Louise then lived with us, though she was never the same. Even now, she's more serious than she used to be. And yet, the tragedy was still not over.

Ba had been growing out his queue, a braid, since he was Nuo's age. Same with all the Chinse men. So, what better way to hurt us than cut them off? Ba was cornered, and told "the gold isn't yours, China man. It's for Americans" right before the shaved it off. The man's name was Elijah wood. He continued to harass Ba, then Mama, and was surely coming for me next. But his plans changed, and in broad daylight, he shot Ba in the face. Louise and I saw it with our own eyes.

Us five kids were grieving messes, but Mama was determined. She knew Elijah would never be arrested. So she packed up our things, bought a midnight ride to San Francisco, and threw a match into his tent on the way out. It didn't kill him, but he lost everything. So we were even.

Now, we live here in a restaurant run by Mama, with Louise as her apprentice. Many more Chinese have flocked here in the past year, so much that our city blocks are called Chinatown. We left those harsh, dry hills filled with greedy Forty-Niners, and have again made a new life. I just hope this one lasts.

Signed, Yan Shui

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So, typing that out made me realize how much I don't like it. But, that's how I feel about all of my old (and new tbh) stories. It also made me realize how historically inaccurate the writing style is so that's fun.