My Uncle's Accident

Tracing back the history of my family, it all ends up in my home country- China. My mother’s story stretched all the way back to the Mao Period. My grandmother from my mom’s side told her this story.

My grandmother was still a young girl, around the age of twenty-five or so. She had a sum of seven siblings, and she was the oldest. She had three younger brothers and three younger sisters. There were huge gaps of age difference between them, but they were still close. She gave herself the responsibility of raising her siblings, from when they were babies to adults. This task was not easy, and eventually gave her the heart of a mother at a very young age. Even with the time that she spent with my three sisters and I since we were born to when she passed away two years ago, I always felt a more motherly side from my grandma than from my mom. I enjoy this side of my grandma and I could not have guessed that she gained her motherliness from being a mother at a young age.

As my mother explained to me tonight, “During the Mao Period, no one was richer than the others. Everyone was equally poor.” The entire country suffered from poverty, although not enough to kill the people, but there were definitely not enough to eat to fill stomachs. There was only one main meal each day- dinner. For breakfast and lunch, people ate porridge and vegetables. The children in the family mostly had elementary school education.

But it was unavoidable that my great-grandpa (my grandmother's dad) was one of the target of Mao's people. All educated people were victims to his torturing. They were dangerous to Mao because they had the abilities to read and write and could possibly overcome him. My great-grandpa was a doctor who was forced to perform a devious ritual every night. Every night, Mao's men would cuff the hands of a several victims, forced them in a hunched position to roam the streets of their town. As they passed, villagers would insult them and litter trash on them. Some of them were even forced to kneel on shattered glass. My mom says that worst of all, my great-grandpa was not allowed to raise his head. I do not know if those citizens know what was going on, but surely what they said to him was pernicious. My great-grandpa eventually built a very tough layer of skin and I admire him for this. It certainly leads me to respect my current government and be grateful of it all.

One day, my third Uncle, or more clearly known as my Grandma’s third youngest brother, was riding a train to the city. The train transported sugar to markets all over China. It rides up a steep hill that runs high, like a roller coaster. He stood in the train, resting on the side panel. The train sped through rugged earth, turning sharp corners when suddenly his body flew backwards. The abrupt change of direction caught all the passengers by surprise. Jolts, one after another, tipped seats- people lost balance, fell to the ground. From outside the window, one could see that the carts had become disconnected and was falling straight down hill. All about were screaming and panicking from all age groups. A bunch of passengers summoned up the idea of jumping out of the train. Everyone was in a life and death situation. The escape plan to jump was the only way out of the train, but was it safer? My Uncle hesitated, watching others tumble off the train, screaming. The train was rapidly approaching a small house completely built of boulders. He didn’t dare waste another moment and jumped out of the accelerating vehicle. The plan was not successful; many people lost their lives, others were injured severely. Even those who remained in the train did not survive; the train eventually crashed into the small boulder house near the hill. My Uncle was among the severely injured.

The news of the incident reached my Grandma. Her mind created thousands of horrible endings of her brother. She sat waiting for the news in a frantic state. Worries reproduced in her head until she could no longer stand waiting and not acting. Finally, in tears, my grandmother summoned their neighbor, a deeply Christian old woman, to pray together at my Grandma’s house. The Christian woman calmed my grandma. They recited pieces from the bible, with heads nodded slightly lower, and hands placed on their laps. They sat for several minutes praying; asking God for hope that my Uncle was still alive and well, begging God to bring my Uncle home safely from this incident. After they were both done, the old Christian lady raised her head back and told my Grandma sullenly, “His left leg is already gone”. To this day, no one knows how she had foretold my Uncle’s injury. It is believed that she had envisioned my Uncle’s situation during the depth of her prayer.

The Christian lady’s supernatural ability left me speechless. It seemed so impossible for this to happen; yet it did and was absolutely correct. The only connection I could make of her “gift” is praying. This far in the story raised the question of weather becoming devoted to Christianity, (or perhaps any religion?), would help form a closer tie with God. These mystical events scare me. Even though it is possibly a useful “gift”, but because the ability cannot be explained, it is frightening. I view her as almost non-human.

Sure enough, when my Uncle jumped out of the train, surrounded by the chaos of thousands of passengers jumping, grabbing, and desperately holding on to their lives, the train shattered the small house built with boulders right after he jumped. Huge boulders shoved down the hill. My Uncle landed hardly on the soil, his body crushed against the earth. His limps landed awkwardly and twisted as he fell. With a sore body, he managed to see boulders rapidly rolling down in his direction. The boulders were the size of a large desk. He was too weak to move away. They smashed into his left leg. He was stuck in the position for several hours until rescue teams came to help. When he was rushed into the hospital, it was too late. His leg had been cut off of circulation for too long, it was already dead. On that day, the doctors amputated my Uncle’s left leg at the age of twenty.

The loosing of his leg depressed and hurt my Uncle so deeply; he tried to commit suicide multiple times. Eventually, a fake leg was made for him but he could barely walk in it and resorted to his wheelchair again. Family members took turns watching over him. The sorrow cut deep into the family- it was contagious. He had a whole life ahead of him; he was young and curious like other boys his age. The removal of his leg destroyed the eagerness he had towards life. Days in the hospital were spent doing absolutely nothing. My uncle could not see past the walls of his hospital room. My family members, all six siblings and his parents, fought to return his energy; both his physical and mental energy. Slowly and painfully, there were signs of life again. He returned home. He allowed others to spend more time with him. He began to look at himself a different way. A realization swept over him- his potential ability as a human being cannot be determined by one leg. He finally caught the awareness that he can still explore life, he can still achieve goals that seemed impossible, because he is more than his body. This lesson ultimately released him from his dreaded past and into the present that consisted of so many supportive family members. His future was no longer polluted with smoke. My Uncle returned to doing what he loved and had neglected all the years- designing furnitures by painting and stitching patterns onto them.

My family also sued the sugar transportation industry for the incident, but the company refused to take responsibilities at all. My Uncle still held his head high through it all. Furthermore, he was almost getting married. There was a girl who had a huge crush on my Uncle before the accident and supported him throughout his depressed time in the hospital. At first my Uncle did not feel he had the potential to marry a fully capable girl when he was handicapped, but at the end they got married.

Now, he has a family of two sons and one daughter, living happily in China. I rarely see him when I return to China, but when I do see him; he is using his fake leg. I am proud of my Uncle for overcoming his fear of suddenly becoming so different. It takes great strength. I admire my grandma, aunts, uncles, and his wife helping him realize the truth- that he is more than his body and sometimes life is not fair, but you just have to find a way to make it better and move on. I am glad that he found a way to make his life enjoyable again.