| Turning a Page | ||||
| By Qiu Ru-lian Translated by Tang Yau-yang Photos by Yan Lin-zhao | ||||
The tattoos Dai Jin-long wears bear witness to the indiscretions of his younger days. But he does not bother to have them removed, nor does he hide them. They no longer wield the same kind of power over him that they once did. Instead, he publicly confesses his past wayward behavior. He is now strong enough to show his tattoos as evidence of his renewal.
Dai Jin-long (戴錦龍) quit school just after finishing the sixth grade, but his lack of schooling never hindered his ability to quickly pick up practical skills to make a living. He hopped from one trade to the next, including acrylic carving, building construction formwork, and cooking Cantonese dim sum. But he never stuck with any one thing for very long. “I got bored doing the same thing for too long,” he commented, “and heavy physical labor was too tiring.” He later returned to his hometown and continued the pattern he had established for himself, taking up one venture after another. For example, he managed a massage parlor and invested in a karaoke club. His heart was not really in these undertakings, and he was not even sure if he made any money from them. But one venture he engaged in grabbed hold of him like nothing else before: drug addiction. His kid brother, a drug dealer, was his supplier. “When a craving kicked in, I’d call my brother, and he’d deliver some drugs to a secret niche in our old family house. Only I knew how to retrieve it,” Dai explained. He remembers his drug days as clearly as if they were just yesterday. It wasn’t unusual for Dai to spend 4,000 NT dollars (US$133) a day on the stuff. His boss trusted him on the strength of his skills in building formwork, and he took full advantage of that trust. He would often ask his boss for advances on his pay, and the boss would accommodate him without question. He’d then turn around and use the money to buy drugs. In those days, noontime was not mealtime for Dai. “I never ate lunch back then. Instead, I’d rush home at 11:50 to fetch my drugs.” He said that when a craving hit, all he could think of was how to get his next fix. In his anxiety to get to his drugs, he wrecked three cars. When his brother was arrested, locked up, and put in compulsory rehab, Dai was left without a supplier. Cut off from his dealer, Dai had to establish another channel for his drug supply. His addiction was so bad that when he went out of town for work and a craving hit, he’d have to speed home to his dealer for relief, no matter how late it was. The two brothers went in and out of drug detention centers many times, but despite their desire to kick the habit, neither could triumph over the cravings. No sooner were they released than they would return to their old ways. Turning the corner Dai grew up in a family of modest means. His mother died when he was young, and his father worked as a laborer, doing such jobs as brick mover and fisherman, to support his four boys. When the senior Dai died, he left his house behind. Dai now lives there with his wife and their two children. One day in 2009, aged electrical wiring sparked a fire that destroyed a large part of the house. While the fire was raging, Dai was taking drugs in a corner room, totally oblivious to what was going on around him. He was high while their furniture was burned to ashes and the roof reduced to bare frames. He was stoned the whole time that others were frantically fighting the blaze. Even after the fire had been put out, he still drifted through a drug-induced haze. Though he had tried to wean himself from drugs, he had failed each time. He was notorious in his neighborhood. The neighbors detested him, and they did not even care to show up at his house after the fire to see how the family was doing. His so-called friends didn’t bother to check and see if he was all right either. Although his neighbors and acquaintances shunned him, some strangers did go to his house the day after the fire. They all wore uniforms of blue shirts and white pants. They cleaned out the things ruined in the fire, hauled the junk away in six large truckloads, and put steel sheets on for a roof. They did not charge Dai for the service, and they even gave the family some relief money to get them through the immediate aftermath. “I was actually having a drug craving and was shaking when those Tzu Chi volunteers came to help clean up the house,” Dai recalled. “I suppressed my drug itch and greeted them briefly, and then I hurried out of the house.” This time, however, he did not go out to get drugs. Instead, he went to get the medication that could help him kick the drugs. Somehow, the fire had sobered him up, and the kindness of the volunteers—strangers who had no obligation to help his family, much less him—had helped awaken his conscience. In a moment of clarity, he saw how irresponsible he had been and how much his reckless behavior over the years had hurt his wife. Dai’s wife had left her home in Thailand to marry him and have their two children. She ran an eatery, did odd jobs, and hustled to put food on the table and support the family. Dai asked himself what he had done for the family in all that time. Not only had he done nothing to help, he had been a huge drag on the family. Their children were growing, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before their friends would ask them what his occupation was. What were his children to answer? It was really time for him to quit drugs and work seriously at a job. But kicking a habit is never easy, and quitting a drug addiction is even harder. “I drank milk and I took the medicine for quitting drugs,” Dai recalled, “but it was still hard. I felt as if I were dying. I couldn’t sit or lie down without feeling uncomfortable, and I couldn’t hold anything down. Everything I ate, I just spewed right out. I vomited continuously for five days. In the end, even the bile came out. I was really, really tempted to take more drugs to end the craving.” Fortunately he did not yield to his temptations. Ten days went by without him taking any drugs, then fifteen. His will had prevailed. Gradually and finally, he won the battle with illicit drugs.
Out in the open In retrospect, the house fire appears to have been a blessing in disguise. It brought Dai to his senses and put his life back on track. Tzu Chi volunteers stayed in touch with Dai’s family even after the fire damage had been taken care of. After some time, Dai told the volunteers he wanted to make monthly donations to the foundation. Volunteer Huang Ruo-mei (黃若湄), who lived nearby, would drop in every once in a while when she went by Dai’s house. She noticed that he had been going to work regularly and that he looked less pale and more energetic. One day when she was collecting his monthly donation, she invited him to volunteer and join a study group at the home of volunteer Huang Mian (黃勉) a few blocks away. “I knew nothing about the study group, but I went simply because Huang had invited me,” Dai remembered. After getting off work at a construction site, he went home and washed up before going to the group. “At first I was worried that my tattoos would scare people there, so I always wore long sleeves, even on very hot days,” Dai said. Group leader Zeng Mei-yu (曾美玉) noticed and guessed his concerns. She would ask him, “Jin-long, aren’t you warm in that?” She was trying to prod him to bravely face his past. At that time, the study group was reading Master Cheng Yen’s commentary on The Compassionate Samadhi Water Repentance, written by Dharma Master Zhi Xuan (知玄). This Buddhist text teaches people to sincerely repent of their past wrongdoings and live a new, reformed life. During a session one day, Dai was moved to open up, and he told the group about his past—things that he had chosen to hide. As he was revealing his painful past, volunteer Zeng Qing-rong (曾清榮) quietly patted Dai’s leg to show his support.
“I could appreciate how he must have felt,” Zeng explained. “I had been through something like that myself. I used to smoke and chew betel nuts almost constantly. I was addicted to them, just as Dai was to drugs. My addictions caused tumors again and again, but I ignored the warnings. I finally ended up needing surgery and chemotherapy. It hurt so badly I wanted to jump off the roof of the hospital. I still remember those moments well.” Zeng had to have part of his tongue removed. He couldn’t talk very clearly and could only ingest liquids. Zeng and Dai have become like brothers. They attend Tzu Chi events together, and cheer each other on. “Qing-rong is just like a kid brother to me,” said Dai. “Because of his oral cancer, he’s been under the knife several times, which has disrupted his everyday life. Still, he has stepped forward and volunteered to help others. My case is nothing compared to his.” Dai said that he has felt liberated ever since that public revelation of his past. He feels comfortable now wearing short sleeves and showing his tattoos. As he embarked on his Tzu Chi path, he also started writing to his brother, who is still behind bars. He shares his new experiences and encourages him, even in prison, not to belittle himself. He urges him to never underestimate his own strength, to take good care of his mind by nurturing charitable thoughts, and to sincerely repent. Dai has returned to his job as a formwork builder. Sun exposure has tanned him dark brown, leaving no trace of the pale, dispirited Dai that he was under the influence of drugs. When asked if he wanted to have his tattoos removed, he replied, “That would hurt a lot, and really, why bother?” The past is gone. What’s done is done and cannot be undone—with or without the tattoos. Acknowledging his past wrongs and showing the indelible marks on his body takes far more courage than having the tattoos removed. Now that Dai is on the right track, he can move forward with confidence.
A Letter From Home By Dai Jin-long Translated by Tang Yau-yang [Editor’s note: The author wrote this letter to his younger brother, who used to supply him with illicit drugs.] Hey brother, I hope this letter finds you well. People come into this world, each with their own lot in life. Some are born to wealthy families and never need to worry about how to support themselves financially. Some seem to coast through life, getting into good schools and landing good jobs. On the surface, you and I never had it so good. But recent events in my life have taught me something—that even those people who seemingly have it all also have their share of troubles and worries. On the other hand, even though nothing seems to go our way, you and I actually have a lot. We just don’t realize it. Though Mom died early, she always loved us. Though we kept getting into trouble, Dad never gave up on us. Though I always made a mess of things, my wife never complained. Not only that, but she kept in touch with Tzu Chi volunteers, hoping that one day I would come to my senses and rediscover my innate goodness. You and I both made mistakes, and we’re paying the price. We have to honestly face ourselves so that we can return to our true, undefiled nature. You should remember that we’re blood brothers, and family is supposed to be there for each other, to keep each other company when the going gets tough. Your road back to a normal life isn’t going to be easy, but from what I’ve gathered from your letters, I believe that you can definitely do it. It’s always unsettling to wonder about the possibility of parole and how hard it’s going to be to go back to society, since you’ve been away from it so long. But you have to keep in mind that these things take a set course and can only go a certain way. It won’t help to dwell on how much longer it will take or worry about the difficulties that you may meet once you’re allowed back into society. All we need to do is take care of our own minds, repent and reform, and try hard to do good. Then we’ll be filled with confidence and strength, and people will naturally feel that from us. On the other hand, if we constantly worry about things that we have no control over, we’ll become restless, and that will just derail our attempts to do and be better. Life is short, but you and I are lucky in that we both turned our backs on our past wrongs when we were still young, when it wasn’t too late. What I think even more fortunate is that, after I lost so many things in life, I still have you, my brother—one who is worth my time waiting for. I believe that you and I will be able to work together shoulder to shoulder for a better future and make Mom and Dad proud. Remember, don’t worry about things that haven’t happened yet. Instead, just focus on getting ready for the next part of your life. I’ve become a Tzu Chi volunteer, and I’ve experienced joy that I never knew before. I’m going to train to become a certified volunteer. I look forward to seeing you following me on this path. The weather has been very changeable lately. Watch out for the crazy weather and take good care of your health. Your brother, Jin-long
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