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Growing Up With Wang Ziping and Madam Wang Jurong
Author: Grace Xiaogao Wu-Monnat
A Daughter's Reminiscence of One of China's Most Famous Kungfu Families
People often say to me, Grace, your grandfather and parents are famous so you must know a lot of interesting stories. Yes, I do have a few tales to tell. I will always remember the frustrating time when, because of the Cultural Revolution, we were limited to practicing martial arts quietly at night in a one-room living room-bedroom. The downstairs tenant would poke at the ceiling and yell out, "Be quiet, we are sleeping." Exasperated, I would whine, "How will I ever become a martial artist under these conditions?" I will never forget the look in my grandfather's, Wang Ziping, dazzling eyes and his calm voice as he said, " Xiaogao, all you need is a dream. And you can be everything you ever want to be."
It was a difficult time of life. But it still was the best kind of life a child ever could have. The experiences I had were different from those of my childhood friends. And now when I achieve a goal or receive a compliment, I often credit that period of my childhood. Of course, when friends criticize one of my extreme behaviors, I also will blame those idiosyncracies on these same youthful experiences.
My Mother, Wang Jurong
I was brought into a famous martial arts family by a special woman, Madam Wang Jurong, my mother. My earliest memories were that life was peaceful, loving, and orderly. I got to see my grandpa, Wang Ziping, and grandma once or twice a week. Every sunny Sunday morning my older sister, neighborhood girlfriend, and I would be in my grandpa's courtyard kicking our feet over our heads, trying to jump up from a splits position, and all the while the other adults were throwing each other, lifting weights, or practicing some martial arts technique. Ever since I was only three or four years old my mother would teach us something new every Sunday. My kindergarten report cards even stated that I tried to teach classmates to do martial arts after I had trained at home. It was fun to have Mom and Dad playing martial arts with us. After practice, I loved to climb to the top of a big pole where I could see my grandparents sip their tea through the window of the second floor.
Grandpa and Grandma always smiled when we were around, and they often took us out for some festive occasion or just for dinner. But I do not have any recollections of direct dialogue with my maternal grandparents at that early time. Most of the time some other adults would be there helping with conversations because my grandparents spoke a northern Chinese dialect and we were only able to understand Shanghai local language.
A part of Grandpa's house was his clinic where he practiced traditional Chinese medicine. He had a lot of patients during the week in addition to his students, friends, and other visitors. So to me, I had many grandpas, aunts, and uncles who just had different last names, who were friendly and often gave gifts to us. And some of those friends practiced Kung Fu with us.
Going to Grandpa's house was a big thing for my sister and me. We not only got to see our grandparents, but we also spent more time with my parents then since they both worked during the week. Later, I learned that even then my parents were highly accomplished in their careers. My dad, Dr. Wu Chengde was the youngest chairman in both his departments of Longhua Hospital and Shanghai Traditional Chinese Medicine College. His wushu team was the champion of the college level Chinese Martial Arts competitions every year.
My mother was a wushu professor in the Shanghai Physical Education Institution and the coach of both the college wushu and archery team. She was the first woman who was a certified judge of national ranking for both wushu and archery. A longtime promoter of wushu, a teacher, an organizational officer, and a wushu event-announcer, my mother was renowned for her oratorical, sonorous voice, and her vast martial arts knowledge. To see her two young daughters imitating her could not have been more amusing. After returning home from a martial arts event together my older sister would act out as an announcer: "Next performer, Wu Xiaogao." And I would step up and hold a fist and a palm together to salute, then do a bow-stance or hold one leg over my head. Then she and I would trade places. Of course, we really did not know much of anything at that time, Mom said years later.
Cultural Revolution
All of this peaceful, fun-filled life suddenly changed when the Cultural Revolution started. Nothing was the same again. The word losing had real meaning to me. Overnight, we lost most of our valuables at home. My older sister and I could not go to school because no classes were held for a while. My parents lost their rights to practice their professions. Grandma Wang suffered a heart attack when the Red Guards were pounding on her door; My mom lost her mother forever. Grandpa had to give up his medical practice and stop teaching martial arts publicly. No one in the family had money any more since bank accounts were frozen and salaries were cut to the minimum or abolished altogether.
Since the Revolution encouraged kids to stand up and criticize their famous parents or grandparents in public like the Red Guards did, the people who lived with Grandfather -- distant relatives whom Grandpa adopted and raised as his own son, daughter, and grandsons -- began to distance themselves and neglected to care for my grandpa. My parents could not stand the thought that Grandpa was confined to the house alone all day long, but they had no idea what would happen to them at work either; they didn't know whether they would be sent to the re-education farm that day or the next morning. So one night after dinner, my parents called me aside and whispered that they wanted me to look after my grandfather. "We know you aren't even ten yet. But you are the only one we can send there." My dad bent down and patted my shoulder.
My mom picked up the conversation. "Grandfather likes you. Remember the time you stayed there overnight, you cleaned the cups although they had maids. And he said, 'I like this child and I would love to have her around more.' I will go with you tomorrow."
"What should I do there?" I asked. Mom replied, "You can keep him company. If he needs anything, you can get it for him or come home to tell us."
The next day, I went with my parents to see my grandfather. I could tell he was happy to see me. Unfortunately, I did not understand everything he said since he spoke a different dialect. But that was the beginning of a special time of my life.
Life With Wang Ziping
My grandfather, Wang Ziping, was an extraordinary Chinese martial artist and a patriotic figure loved and respected by the public. Again and again in his life he represented the nation in soundly defeating foreign boxers, wrestlers, and karate challengers. He was known throughout China for his public feats of strength as well as his martial arts prowess. He was also a famous traditional Chinese orthopedic doctor. Even in his 80's Grandfather had a strong body. The bones under his eyebrows were prominent, and his eyes were set in deep sockets. Actually, pure Chinese though he was, he looked like a minority, more Western then Oriental. These deep-set eyes were radiant, always shining. In addition, his long silver beard flowed over his chest like a shimmering waterfall. His unique, dignified appearance and charismatic manner automatically gained respect from other people. When he smiled, I knew that I was safe and loved.
I was too young to act as an adult. Every night Wang Ziping had important visitors from all over the world. I could not even stay awake until these loquacious visitors left. I would try, but, at last, would fall asleep anywhere in the room. It could be on a couch or chair or even the bare floor. I still fondly remember that my grandfather carried me in his arms to my bed almost every night for the first couple of years I lived with him. I guess it would be fair to say that I was a little company to him in the daytime and he was a loving protector of me at night.
Because we did not speak the same dialect, we seldom carried on much conversation at first. One time he asked me to get a bowl and some washing soda. This was quite memorable. Although he had lived in Shanghai for sixty years, he never lost the habits learned 1,000 miles north in Hebei near Beijing where he grew up. I did not know that he wanted dishwashing detergent, and the word he used for bowl was foreign to me. He saw my quizzical expression as I nodded my head and stared at him. He smiled and tried to use a Shanghai dialect, but came out with a heavy northern accent, like a Chinese singing Italian opera; but he cupped his hands in the shape of a bowl, and that I understood. Wanting desperately to help, I went to my aunt downstairs, and in my own tortured version tried to imitate his exact sentence. She laughed and said, "Oh, is that all he wants?" Grandpa was constantly entertained by my effort to speak with him. But I was so anxious to please him that we talked primarily in mangled sign language for about two months.
Life was hard at that time. What grew out of the hardship was a strong, close relationship between my grandfather and me. As time went by, we not only understood each other well but we also developed a kind of harmony within us. Grandpa had a great sense of humor. We laughed so much together. When I was a little older, instead of falling asleep, I would wait for hours until his visitors finally stood up to leave. Then, behind their back, I just had to make some naughty faces to express my relief after waiting so long for them to leave. Grandfather would heave with laughter, but tried his best to conceal it from his important guests. He always treated everyone well.
I also remember the many times after school I sat next to my grandpa comparing hand strength. He had immense and powerful hands that spread out like Chinese fans. My little hand fit in his like a small piece of dough, yet, I tried so hard to squeeze his hand. The little power I had just could not bother him. Grandpa always got a good laugh and he never crushed my aggressive small fingers.
I am so proud of my grandfather because, although he was a legendary figure, he always was a loving, compassionate, and humble grandpa to me first. Only during the years I lived with him, and, later, did I learned how special he was. Grandpa again told me many times that, "All you need is a dream. And you can be everything you want to be." His life was an example of his own words.
Wang Ziping's Martial Arts Life
Wang Ziping was born in 1881 in Cangshou, Hebei province, considered the capital of martial arts. Both his father and grandfather were well-recognized wushu masters. Wang Ziping's feats and strength became legendary. But fame did not come easily. In fact, when he was six years old, Wang Ziping was too little and too weak to be accepted as a martial arts student by either his father or his uncle. They thought he was not strong enough. But, fortunately, the world always has its own balance and magic. On the other side of his life was the deep understanding of his mother. She told him, " If you like martial arts, practice hard. You will be good. But don't be a tiger-head and snake-tail with everything. Be consistent."
With his mother's encouragement, he took the first step of a lifelong journey in the martial arts. First, he dug a ditch for practicing jumps. As time passed, the ditch would get deeper and deeper, wider and wider. Ultimately, from a standstill, Wang Ziping could jump ten feet forward and eight feet backward. From this beginning, he developed other humble methods, like planting a tree in front of his home so he could leap over it every time he went in or out of the house; and putting stone weights into a pond nearby so that he could develop his strength without being noticed by the naysayers who thought he was too little and weak.
By the time he was sixteen he was known for his strength throughout his village and nearby area. Once a neighboring town sponsored a weight-lifting competition. After no one could move the 215 pound weights, Wang Ziping gave his first try and the heavy stones went easily into the air above his head. "Wow!" everyone exclaimed. The young man in charge came over and asked, "Would you please tell us your name and where you come from?" Wang Ziping politely answered. Then, a knowing smile dawned across the leader's face and he nodded, "Oh! That's why. There is a note in the bar. Please read it." Everyone waited as Grandpa read the note. "We hope to make friends by this contest," it stated. "Anyone who is able to lift the weight will be awarded with his weight in groceries, except for Wang Ziping." There was a long hearty laugh. Many came to him wanting to learn how he had become so strong.
Wang Ziping was also known as Qianjin Wang (King of a Thousand Pounds). It was an honor to have such a nickname. In Shandong today people still like to tell many remarkable stories of Wang Ziping, like how he astounded the crowd by using his single hand to stop the water-powered stone mill at Black Tiger well in Jinan. But the nickname also brought him some unwanted challenges. A German army officer was mad about hearing the story of Qianjin Wang. He would not believe that any Chinese, the "sick people in Asia," could have such power. So he put a 400-pound-plus bare-rounded stone at Jiaoji railroad station, daring Wang Ziping to lift it. When Wang Ziping showed up with his friends, the German with a treacherous smile said, "It will be yours if you can lift it, otherwise you have to pay for the stone. Of course you are Chinese! No one can be that strong." Wang Ziping's eyes flashed with anger. He said, "OK, that's settled then, Foreigner."
Wang Ziping took off his shirt. His arms were defined with huge muscles. That stupefied the presumptuous German. His mouth gaped open and his eyes could not turn away from this Chinese. The real shock was that Wang Ziping immediately lifted the gigantic stone over his head. The German was dumbstruck and muttered, "Oh God, how could that be. Such a powerful Chinaman!"
Another time, the mosque in Qinzhou had two long, beautifully carved doors that were antiques from the Ming dynasty. The story engraved on the doors described the early Moslems' life. For generations, the Moslems cherished and cared for the doors. The Germans heard about the antique doors and were greedy for the cultural treasure. They came and unctuously offered to buy the doors. To avoid a conflict, the priest asked for 16,250 pounds of pure silver. "That's too much," said the Germans. "We will pay you half." That worried the priest because he did not want to be the Moslem who would sell the nation's ...