#roots2013

Al: “You can build a nice home in your village for $12,000-$13,000.” Dexter: “Really? Would there be running water?” Al: “You can build it however you want.” Dexter: “Would the water be drinkable?” Al: “No, but you can remember the source.”

Part I - July 12

I can best share my rooting story by telling it in a nonlinear fashion. Though first I will start at the beginning. I chose to do Roots for a chance to see the village in which my father grew up. He has not been back to China since he left it nearly 40 years ago, and I had never been to China. I wanted to, in a sense, go back for him, and to see for myself the place that served as a backdrop for the few stories of his childhood that I knew. As I had hoped, I did get a chance to see where he grew up: Chang Sheng village, located about 10 minutes away from Taishan City. We arrived late in the afternoon. The children were home from school, which meant we saw more youngsters than we had seen in most other villages, which we typically visited before noon. Young and old alike were out and about. They stared at us as the bus rolled up and we got out, a dozen strangers descending suddenly upon their village. I can only imagine what they thought of us. I was accompanied by my maternal uncle, who is the caretaker for my father’s home, and we explained who I was and why we were there. Quickly I was whisked to see the house where my father lived. No one lives there now, and hasn't for decades. The back door was broken, and the building was filled with dust. I saw the room where my father lived. I used my imagination to fill the rooms with furniture and color and life. I felt a sense of contentment, though from what I cannot yet say. I then walked around the village, which glowed warmly from the light of the setting sun. There was a sense of energy all around; the village had come alive with activity, as the villagers were out to begin the first step of the rice milling process. My fellow Rooters seemed to be having fun taking pictures, holding babies, taking pictures of Rooters holding babies. One villager humored us and allowed me to take a stab at using the rice milling machine, which turned with a lot less effort than I thought it would. We came, we saw, and we left. The sun set as our bus departed.

Chang Sheng was actually the last village that I rooted. It was what I had joined the Roots program to see. But I wound up with more surprises than I had bargained for. Because only two days prior visiting Chang Sheng, I had learned from my dad that he was not born in that village. Rather, he was born in a neighboring village, and he wanted me to visit it if I had the chance. I had known he had been adopted at a young age, and I had known he had several birth brothers. But my father rarely talks about his birth family, and what I didn’t know until I got to the village was that his oldest brother’s wife still lived there, along with a whole host of extended relatives who immediately embraced me as family. It’s hard to explain what it feels like to discover suddenly that you have a family you never really knew about.

PART II - July 11

Perhaps one day I will figure out my feelings about that experience enough to write about it in greater detail (assuming anyone would care to read about it). But really, my experience with the Roots program has ended up being primarily about my mother. And that was a surprise indeed, since I didn’t even think I would have to opportunity to visit her village as a part of this trip. We were allowed to designate one primary village to visit, and a secondary one that we might visit if it fit into the itinerary. For weeks leading up the trip, our tentative itinerary did not include my mother’s village. So I was pleasantly surprised to learn on the night of our flight to China that we might be able to see it. I was surprised again when I learned on July 10 that I would be seeing Tang Di village the very next day; we were fortunate that my uncle (my mother’s brother), who lives near Taishan City, would be able to take us there.

My uncle met us at the hotel. I should mention that I this was the first time I met him; I had seen his face in pictures, but in person I was struck by how much he resembled my mother. Throughout the time I spent with him, I noticed other ways in which they were alike—their dislike of eating fish, the way they liked to be early out of concern that others would have to wait for them. He came aboard the bus and led us to Tang Di village, which isn’t far from Taishan City. We arrived early in the morning, and it was quiet. Few people live there these days. My uncle led us to the house, and he apologized in advance for the house being in disrepair; he explained that thieves had stolen the glass window panes, metal off the furniture, and everything else of monetary value. But when I stepped in, I only noticed the beauty of the faded furniture and the pleasant airiness of the space. I was flooded with a feeling of nostalgia for a childhood that wasn’t my own; I imagined the happy moments my mother must have experienced as a young child in this house, in this lovely village.

However, this village wasn’t the only one that carried a memory of my mother’s past. When I went to see my father’s villages, it was my mother that the villagers remembered. My dad went to Hong Kong in his early teens, and went back to the countryside rarely. After my parents married in China, he returned to Hong Kong and she moved into his village. And so everywhere I went, those who knew my family remembered my mother.

My mother, as is typical of many Chinese people of her generation, rarely talks about her past. My hope is that seeing her village, meeting her brother, and encountering her old neighbors will encourage her to tell me more about what her life was like before she went to the United States. And I want to know more about my father’s life too. “Why don’t you ever talk about your past?" I have asked them before. “You never ask," they always reply.

Well, I’m certainly going to be asking now.

July 8, 2013

Changon Village, Hoiping, Guangdong

For my second rooting day, I visited my gong gong’s village. From being a wedding planner assistant on the side, the hours leading up to visiting the village felt much like seeing a “day-of” video of a wedding day. It’s the part where you see the bride getting dolled up, anxious for the day to start. You can tell she has been waiting for the moment for a long time after months of planning and preparation.

I did my make up and put on my dress (Frank Lee continuously reminded me to make sure to plan my rooting day outfit accordingly because I’ll have to live with these pictures for the rest of my life.. aka make sure the sweat doesn’t show!)

I had a moment to look at the view of Hoiping from my hotel room to think about what lied ahead. As I was looking in my suitcase, I found a letter my dad had secretly hid for me to find while I was away from home. He had told me to enjoy my time in China and wished he was given the opportunity himself to experience what I was about to go through. This reminded me of the part where the bride’s dad gives his last piece of wisdom before she goes down the aisle. Finding this letter was the perfect moment- it was a reminder to take comfort in knowing my family has been supportive of this journey. Leading up to this trip I have had many talks with my poh poh, asking about gong gong’s family and how they often would visit in the 70’s and 80’s to help fund the mun-lau and spend time with the remaining friends and relatives in the village. I couldn’t wait to see the village for myself.

Being in the village was what I expected and more. I met my ah-kiu (uncle- gong gong’s brother’s son) and other extended relatives. I assumed I would get to see the mun-lau and house my gong gong grew up in, but was surprised to learn there was more in store. There was a second home larger than the first where he was actually born, and the family watch tower in the back of the village.

Simple moments of seeing the room my gong gong grew up in, seeing his floor in the watch tower, looking at old pictures of my great great ancestors in the houses, and walking upstairs in the mun-lau to find that my grandparent’s picture was still up on the wall were my most treasured memories. I was lucky enough to spend two hours in the village- it’s considered a lot for our rooting schedule, yet a small fragment in my life.  I have never had so many moments significantly impact my life and change my entire perspective in one day. It is crazy how a relative I never knew existed, showed so much generosity and nurturing to his niece he had just met. How he held my hand in ensuring I made it up the narrow stairs inside each building, and offering to take me out to dinner to meet his immediate family.

My definition of family has changed from these experiences. To know I have family half way across the world that have shown me overwhelming love from the moment they met me was something I had never even thought was possible. It has made me appreciate my family back at home, and to not take them for granted.

Dad, Mom, Tina – I may drive you guys insane, but in my defense.. I am the baby of the family! Just know that my accomplishments have been heavily influenced by your guidance in my life. You are the reason why I smile in knowing I come from a loving family.