George Fillis
Hearing individual stories about immigrants awakens something in me because of the parallel to my family’s coming to America. Especially those filled with hope for a better life and the courage to overcome overwhelming odds.
The first seed for the book was planted during an MBA panel discussion where I met a young man from a remote village in Malaysia. The sixteen members of his family lived in a one-room house with no electricity or facilities. He excelled in school and was offered a scholarship to the University of Kansas. When he arrived in the U.S., he displayed a humble character, worked harder than his peers, and always endeavored to do the right thing. Consequently, he ascended the ranks of corporate America, but it was his spirit and demeanor that stayed with me, and his name was Winson. At the time, I had no idea I would write a book about an Asian man.
Several years later, my wife and I traveled to Collingwood, Ontario, located on the shores of Georgian Bay. At a dinner, we met an Irish Canadian woman who shared her remarkable life story of marrying a Chinese ‘paper son.’ She told us of his immigration and life as a human chattel.
The following summer, while hiking in the Blue Mountains, we heard some Chinese hikers singing in Chinese. We paused on the trail, and I greeted them in Mandarin. We ended up visiting and when I told them I was writing a book about a Chinese boy and human trafficking, they told me about the Snakeheads, a human trafficking ring, which I believe was shared from their personal experience.
The first seed for the book was planted during an MBA panel discussion where I met a young man from a remote village in Malaysia. The sixteen members of his family lived in a one-room house with no electricity or facilities. He excelled in school and was offered a scholarship to the University of Kansas. When he arrived in the U.S., he displayed a humble character, worked harder than his peers, and always endeavored to do the right thing. Consequently, he ascended the ranks of corporate America, but it was his spirit and demeanor that stayed with me, and his name was Winson. At the time, I had no idea I would write a book about an Asian man.
Several years later, my wife and I traveled to Collingwood, Ontario, located on the shores of Georgian Bay. At a dinner, we met an Irish Canadian woman who shared her remarkable life story of marrying a Chinese ‘paper son.’ She told us of his immigration and life as a human chattel.
The following summer, while hiking in the Blue Mountains, we heard some Chinese hikers singing in Chinese. We paused on the trail, and I greeted them in Mandarin. We ended up visiting and when I told them I was writing a book about a Chinese boy and human trafficking, they told me about the Snakeheads, a human trafficking ring, which I believe was shared from their personal experience.
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