Read Online The Snakehead: An Epic Tale of the Chinatown Underworld and the American Dream by Patrick Radden Keefe - Free Book Online Page A

man named Weng Yu Hui wanted to leave his village in Fujian, not far from Shengmei, and move to the United States. Weng was grim-faced and stocky, with black hair that he parted to one side and a hint of a double chin. He had left school in the third grade, during the Cultural Revolution, and farmed sweet potatoes and rice with his family before getting into construction work. Weng had a wife and child, and his reason for wanting to leave was simple: “To make more money. To improve my family’s living condition.” There were very few snakeheads operating in Fujian in 1984, but Weng’s brother-in-law had recently paid a woman who went by the name Sister Ping to smuggle him to New York, and she had gotten him there successfully. Weng asked around and eventually tracked down a villager who had been Sister Ping’s teacher in school. The man told Weng he would need to pay $2,000 up front, and that if he made it to the United States, he would owe a further $16,000. Weng would also need a guarantor: someone already in America who would agree to pay the balance of his fee when he arrived. Weng turned over the down payment and the telephone number of a nephew who lived in the United States. He called the nephew to warn him: “If someone named Cheng Chui Ping calls, you have to agree to the terms.” Shortly thereafter, Weng received a letter that purported to be an invitation to visit relatives in Guatemala. (Because the coolie trade transported many thousands of Chinese to work the plantations of Central America and the Caribbean in the nineteenth century, this ruse was not altogether implausible; small Chinese communities are a feature of many cities in that part of the world.) Weng took the letter to the Public Security Bureau in Fuzhou, told them about his family in Guatemala, and applied for a permit to leave the country. They issued him a passport.
    Passport in hand, Weng made his way to the port city of Shenzhen, just across the border from Hong Kong. There he was met by Sister Ping’s younger sister, a short Fujianese woman named Cheng Tsui Wah, whoalso went by Susan. A dozen other Fujianese customers were already waiting in a Shenzhen hotel, and after several weeks Susan obtained entry visas for Hong Kong and accompanied Weng and a half-dozen others on the short trip into the city. It was the Chinese New Year, and the city was given over to fireworks, lion dances, and revelry. The problem was, Weng and the others were dressed like farmers, with their shopworn cotton clothing and country-bumpkin haircuts. Susan led her wide-eyed charges through the bustle of Hong Kong and enacted a hasty makeover: she outfitted them with Western-style suits and slacks, got their hair cut, bought them watches, toothbrushes, and toothpaste. Snakeheads occasionally refer to themselves as “tour guides,” and that is unquestionably one component of the job.
    When Susan was satisfied that her customers might pass for passport-holding international travelers, she escorted them to a two-bedroom apartment in Hong Kong. She said it belonged to her father, and had them all sleep on the floor in one bedroom while she occupied the other. The next day they went to Hong Kong’s Kai Tak Airport and boarded a flight to Guatemala City.
    Sister Ping’s brother, Cheng Mei Yeung, met them when they arrived. A squat Fujianese man with nervous eyes and a receding chin, Mei Yeung escorted the group to a hotel where another dozen Chinese passengers were waiting, some of them people Weng had encountered at the hotel in Shenzhen. Eventually Sister Ping herself appeared. It was immediately clear from her demeanor that she was the boss of the operation; she was aloof with the customers, speaking only to her brother. But she did approach Weng. There was a “money matter” that needed to be resolved, she said. Weng’s brother-in-law, whom she had recently smuggled, had failed to pay the balance of his debt upon arrival in America. Weng had better get on the