Chapter 1758 - Police Recruitment
Li Ziyu said, "Of course I'm going. Plenty of people from the military households are planning to apply—serving the Ming was a job, serving the Australians is a job. At least the Australians pay on time."
His enthusiasm wasn't a sudden change of heart or newfound appreciation for the Senatorial Council's progressive policies. It was sheer necessity. His father had relied on his uncle's influence to hold a position in the garrison; beyond the official stipend, there had been some "extra income," and the family had managed to get by. Now the garrison had completely disintegrated. The household was left with no livelihood at all. No longer could Li Ziyu put on the airs of a "Commander's family scion"; he desperately needed to find employment.
"But you have to shave your head," Zeng Juan hesitated. "That's a big deal. I need to talk it over with my family. Besides, they may not even want us—don't you have to be strong and tough to be a runner? Would they even consider bookish types like us?"
"Shaving your head isn't losing it," Li Ziyu said dismissively. "Anyway, we're literate men—how many of those are there in all of Guangzhou? We'll get in, no problem."
Zeng Juan nodded, emotions tangled. The head-shaving still troubled him—"hair and skin are received from one's parents"—and this shaved-head style was an Australian custom, unknown in Chinese tradition. To shave his head and become a police "pseudo-Australian"—what would his teachers, classmates, relatives, and friends think of him? Li Ziyu was a military man by birth; he didn't care. While Zeng Juan was still wavering, he suddenly noticed a clause in the recruitment notice and exclaimed, "It won't work anyway! They only want people eighteen or older—I'm not even seventeen yet!"
"Oh, come now, young master. Who decides how old you are but yourself? Do you think the Australians are going to come to your house and check your horoscope? Say you're a year or two older—what's the difference? When the Australians see literate men coming to join them, they'll be thrilled. They're not going to quibble over details!"
Li Ziyu's words helped him make up his mind. Really, this was the only path left. He nodded. "All right, I'll give it a try." Then he asked Zhang Yu, "What about you? Being an Australian policeman surely has a brighter future than selling walnut cakes."
Zhang Yu hesitated, then nodded. "Honestly, I want to go too. But I'll have to discuss it with my parents first."
Looking over the qualification requirements in the newspaper, there was nothing unusual: applicants had to hold household registration in Nanhai or Panyu District of the Guangzhou Special Municipality, be in good health with no venereal diseases or serious ailments. Gender didn't matter; literacy wasn't required. Furthermore, no shop-guarantee was needed—only a "Certificate of Good Character" from one's jia headman, attesting that the applicant was indeed a law-abiding citizen of upright conduct. The requirements were extraordinarily lenient.
They noted that the registration period was listed as March 19, 1635. They knew this was the Australian calendar—upon entering the city, the Australians had announced that the "Common Era" or "Solar Calendar" would be used throughout. This calendar differed greatly from the Ming calendar they had always used. To help the populace adapt, in addition to distributing free "Calendar Sheets" to every household during the census, they had also distributed large "Wall Calendars" to shops. These wall calendars, like the household calendar sheets, were printed on stiff paper with propaganda illustrations in the style of "Huxian peasant paintings," extolling "New Australia, New Life." But the wall calendars were much larger. The jia headmen had notified all shopkeepers that these calendars must be hung prominently in their establishments.
To help the public grow accustomed to the new calendar, Arabic numerals were accompanied by Chinese numerals below, and day-of-the-week designations had been added. Originally the layout was also going to include "Chongzhen Year 8," but that had been vetoed—in the minds of the ancients, that reign-title carried legitimacy, and publishing a "New Calendar" with the Chongzhen era-name would be tantamount to admitting that the Senatorial Council was not the legitimate authority.
According to The Yangcheng Express, registration for the "Police Recruitment" would start the next day: March 18, 1635 by the Australian calendar.
"March 18th," said Zeng Juan. "Isn't that tomorrow?"
Li Ziyu nodded. "That's right. I'm planning to go first thing in the morning to the Provincial Surveillance Commission Yamen to register. Let's meet at Granny Qian's Tea-House."
The former Guangdong Provincial Surveillance Commission Yamen was now the Guangzhou Special Municipality Police Bureau. Granny Qian's Tea-House was barely an arrow's flight away.
But Zeng Juan suddenly wavered again—shaving his head and throwing in with the Australians! It was too momentous. He stalled, "This early? Registration runs until the twenty-fifth, according to this."
Li Ziyu said, "True, but there's also a line that says 'until positions are filled.' A lot of people in our area are planning to apply. If we don't move fast, what then?"
Li Ziyu's former garrison had effectively dissolved. Some men had been recruited into the National Army; those who didn't want to risk their lives in battle now had no livelihood. A police job in Guangzhou was a very attractive option—at least the whole family would eat.
"Better early than late!"
Under Li Ziyu's vigorous urging, the three friends agreed to go register first thing the next morning.
When Zeng Juan got home and mentioned his plan to "take the police exam," his mother hesitated. "But then wouldn't all your schooling have been for nothing?"
Zeng Juan's father sighed. "I think it's just as well he stops. A-Juan isn't really cut out for the classics. Last time I went to the community school to give the teacher a holiday gift, the teacher said he didn't think A-Juan had a future in the examinations and that we should start looking for something else for him. The police exam is a good opportunity—at least it's better than making candles at home!"
"But you have to shave your head..."
"So shave it. We're poor folks—what's there to fuss about?" His father scratched his head, which was grimy and oily from long unwashing. "I think a shaved head would be cleaner anyway."
The next day, the three of them arrived together at the Municipal Police Bureau. Li Ziyu's boasts of "a sea of people" hadn't quite materialized, but there was certainly a substantial crowd. The Bureau doors hadn't opened yet, but the entrance was already packed.
Looking at the applicants, they were a motley lot. Zeng Juan had thought that at sixteen he'd be among the youngest, but there were boys who looked no more than thirteen or fourteen, as well as men clearly past forty—one had apparently dyed his hair with ink; his aged face and unnaturally black hair made a strange sight.
The applicants were of every description. Li Ziyu, however, knew a lot of them: many were military-household sons from the various Guangzhou garrisons or scattered soldiers from disbanded camps.
Two policemen in black uniforms, holding truncheons, stood at the Bureau gate, legs spread apart, fierce as guardian deities. Li Ziyu's wide social circle included many of the old personnel; he recognized these two—they'd been "Black-Robes" yamen runners in Nanhai County. Formerly they'd stood ceremonial guard and cleared the way for the county magistrate; now, with a shift in the wind, they guarded the Australian gates.
Just as he was musing, the bell-tower began to chime—seven strokes. Nowadays even the Guangzhou bell-and-drum towers followed Australian protocol. The Bureau gate swung slowly open, and a policeman in black uniform stepped out, holding a tin megaphone:
"Anyone applying for patrol-police, this way! One at a time, line up! Anyone who cuts in line or causes disorder will be expelled immediately!"
Once inside, the first stage was the physical examination. For this recruitment, the minimum height requirement was 1.55 meters for men and 1.50 meters for women, with corresponding weight requirements. Liu San wasn't worried about too many overweight applicants; rather, many were underweight. Chronic malnutrition was pervasive.
Being underweight was fixable, but chronic malnutrition brought many health problems—especially tuberculosis. The Police Bureau obviously couldn't recruit a batch of tuberculosis patients as patrol officers.
As for those who were obviously too old or too young, they too were screened out.
Next came the medical examination: basic vision and hearing tests, followed by a strip inspection for skin diseases, parasites, and venereal disease. Except for VD, the standards for the first two were lenient; anything they had the capacity to treat was considered a pass.
The health screening alone eliminated a quarter of the applicants. The sheer variety of diseases afflicting the lower classes far exceeded expectations.
The common folk of this era were indeed "hardworking and enduring"—but in truth that endurance was bought at the cost of their health.
Finally came the physical-fitness test: run one thousand meters in under five minutes to pass, plus standing long-jump, grip-strength, and weight-lifting tests. This stage eliminated even more people. Many who looked acceptable in height and weight had low lung capacity and poor muscle strength. Zeng Juan was eliminated at this stage.
Li Ziyu and Zhang Yu passed the medical exam, but at the background-check stage, Zhang Yu was disqualified for falsifying his age. The household census had already been conducted, and his birthdate was clearly recorded in the household register—there was no possibility of forgery.
In the end, only Li Ziyu passed all the screenings and received a "Preliminary Approval Notice."
"In one week, bring this notice to the Bureau for secondary review," said the officer handing it over. "If there are no problems, you'll be officially admitted."
"Officer..."
"Don't call me 'officer.' Call me 'comrade.'"
"Yes, Police—Comrade. Um, my two good brothers may be a year or two underage, but they're both literate! The community school says they write excellent essays"—Li Ziyu was laying it on thick now—"poetry and rhetoric, they're masters of it all. If not for... if not for... the heavenly troops entering the city, they'd have passed the xiucai exam this year for certain. Couldn't you make an exception and give them another chance...?"
The policeman laughed. "I don't have that authority! That's for the Chief to decide. We do need literate people, but patrol officers have to hit the streets and do the job immediately. What use is writing essays and poems? Our Police Bureau doesn't catch thieves by composing verse."
"Yes, yes, you're right..." Li Ziyu saw there was no special regard for "scholars" here and felt somewhat deflated. He was about to leave when the policeman called him back. "Since your friends can read and write, there'll be plenty of opportunities later. Right now we need people everywhere; every department is holding recruitment exams. Tell them to keep an eye on The Yangcheng Express."
(End of Chapter)