History. I discovered my love for history during my last HK trip, and though I have yet to pick up history books, I have gone off on another tangent with a desire to learn about my own history. My ancestors and who they were as individuals, rather than just a namesake.
I have listened to my mother’s stories about her childhood, stories that I see depicted in many Chinese dramas as I grew up, and I never tired of listening to them, even though they were variations of the same theme. Something new always occurred in those stories that I didn’t capture the first time round. The other times when I would hear these stories as I grew older was during my grandparent’s funerals when my uncles and aunts would openly share their own experiences, or when I visit my Aunt Constance in Tokyo, and we would lie on our beds, sharing our stories about everyone.
As the memories of our grandparents fade with every year, I am more eager to capture this, not only for my sake, but for the younger generation who never knew them. Our loving grandparents, especially my maternal grandma, whom I call the “wind beneath my wings”, whom I still miss so much every day, whom I hope I made her proud and happy. Our younger generation will never know who these people are, if we don’t share our stories.
We all hold a piece of the jigsaw puzzle and it takes all of us to present a glimmer of who they are. Circumstances can shape who we are, and these are timeless lessons of gold that we can learn from. Stories of strong, loving people who worked hard to keep the family together, building bonds of kinship which still bind us today.
Though I have always been nourished by my mother’s stories, my father’s family always remained a bit of an enigma. I had a grandmother who was a true matriarch, and I think in some ways, resembled the towering figure of an Empress Dowager. She was a modern independent woman who donned a bikini in the 40s, a photograph framed under the glass of her table next to her bed. She was definitely authoritative and for that, she could be misunderstood as being tough and not kind and understanding, like my maternal grandmother was. I believed her upbringing shaped her into who she was, like we all do, and I had so many misunderstandings of her, that it finally took my Aunt Vera (who lives in Sydney) to correct some of them.
I am only starting to learn more about her as a person and though the stories span only small significant sections of her life, they offered me a glimpse of who she is. My aunt shared her childhood and many stories about our ancestors, starting from Dad’s grandma, Tai Po, who adored Dad. We knew so little about Dad’s family history and it is such a shame. Now, with my revived relationship with my aunt, I get a chance to listen to the stories, and know who our relatives were. My history is so colourful that they seem to read like “Joy Luck Club” or even “Wild Swans”, even though I have never read the books before.
Tai Po was the second child in a family of seven children, the first six being girls and finally a son being born into the family. Her sister and her eventually married two brothers, who during the Gold rush, sailed to Chicago to seek better fortunes. In order to capitalise on the fortunes, they had to marry new wives in Chicago. During this time, Tai Po stayed back in China and worked in the fields everyday. She had a very strict mother in law, and her life is probably like those that we see in the serials, where she is forced to go back to plough the fields, not long after child-birth. She bore two children – a son whose altar we have next to hers, and Grandma.
After 16 years of living in Chicago, the two brothers decide to come back to China and fetch their wives to Chicago. I could have been US citizen. Unfortunately, Tai Po’s husband died on the boat during his trip, so Tai Po decided to leave China with her two teenage children and boarded a junk as a “slave” (working on the boat for their boat fares). Grandma was about 12 years old then. They arrived in Singapore and lived in a place like a gambling den (or those premises which lent money to people). Tai Po took on a job outside while her children worked in the den, serving food and pouring tea etc.
This is where it gets really exciting. Until then, I always thought that Dad’s uncle (Grandma’s brother) died at child-birth. How wrong was I. He was a fisherman/sailor and one fateful day, he dropped his oar in the rivers, and he dived into the waters to rescue it. Unfortunately, he was killed by a sea snake, and by the time, they fished him out, it was too late. Grandma was very attractive when she was young and she had many suitors. She was also deeply superstitious and loved to seek the advice of boh-mohs, who could revive spirits from the underworld. Perplexed by the number of suitors and who to marry, she decided to go to one, and they summoned her brother’s spirit. His advice was “Marry the man who offers something to me on a date, your dead brother”.
Well, needless to say, our grandfather was the only one that did it. I always thought Grandma was a bit weird to marry a man with two wives already and after realising the truth, I am more than a little ashamed. Our grandfather grew up in a middle class family. His mother organised a child bride, so that when they grew up, they would get married and have children. Our grandfather was a philanderer but he also had a kind heart. He never married the child bride. He married another woman and had a child during the Second World War. During an air-raid, they hid in a bomb shelter, but the baby boy couldn’t stop crying. In order not to implicate the others and alert the Japanese, his wife stepped out with her newborn baby, and unfortunately a bomb hit, and she was killed instantly by the shrapnel. The baby survived and was brought back to the child bride who opened her heart and took it in her care.
Grandma was grandfather legally binding wife and she had no idea that her husband had a child bride till she entered the house on her marriage day.
Our philandering grandfather decided to consummate his relationship with the child bride as well, which is why she bore children around the same time as Grandma. When Dad was conceived, Tai Po decided that if it was a boy, it would be offered to her dead son as his own child. Grandma agreed. When Dad was born, Tai Po doted on him immediately, and wanted him to bear the surname Chung, which is Grandma maiden name. True to her strong character, Grandma disagreed vehemently, which is why we are still named Lew.
Grandpa struck good fortune when Aunt Vera was born and apparently Grandma was tired of his philandering ways, and was more afraid to catch venereal disease. Aunt Vera said that she had many sores on her head when she was growing up, and Grandma thinks it is a sign of venereal disease. Which was why she decided to divorce grandpa a few years after third uncle was born. I think she really signified a modern woman because of her determination and her love for her children. She didn’t want any future children of hers to suffer the same fate. I think Uncle’s under-developed chest on one side could be a result of that.
Grandma led a new life then, and that is when she started wearing the bikini on the beach, to assert her new freedom. I remember looking at those photos of her, and marvelling at her courage to do so. A modern woman indeed. I didn’t learn much about her decision to marry Grandpa Soh, but I guess that could be a story for later.
Just so that you don’t think badly of my Grandpa, he was actually a good father. He doted on Aunt Vera more than Dad and she says that Dad was always a little envious/jealous of that. She always retorted that their grandma loved him more too than any one of them, so it was fair. Dad didn’t have a close relationship with his father, which is why we rarely hear about him. His father always met them at school or at the bus stop to give them pocket money, and Dad was a little jealous that Aunt Vera got more than him.
Grandpa’s good fortunes ended with his philandering ways and after Grandma left him. He worked as a bus conductor and eventually settled at the bus depot as his home in the final years of his life. Aunt Vera always tears when she recalls how he used to wait for them, and walk them to school and stories like that. You can tell that she really love and miss him. He suffered a heart attack at the bus depot and was brought to the hospital. Aunt Vera and the family visited him at the hospital, before his bus colleagues came and they left. An hour later, he suffered a massive second heart attack and died.
I pushed Dad the other day to tell me more about his history but he is reluctant, and he laughed it off, in an attempt to circumvent the topic. I tried harder but he wasn’t in the mood, so I think this will take some time but I know I will keep at it. I want his perspective of his childhood and what he thought of his parents. I want to know my Dad as a person too.
I believe it is so important to know our history, because we tend to see grandparents, parents and kids as relatives and children, but not as real people. Like us, they have an identity and I am keen to know who they are as real people. So, my task this year is to create a web platform for all of us to share our stories about our grandparents, ancestors and children, so that our younger generation will know that we went through the same human emotions and conditions as they did, and hopefully, they will cultivate some new respect for the older generation.
