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Post by douglaslam on Jul 6, 2010 2:00:31 GMT -5
This is the front living room of my house. It is very typical of homes in southern China. The TV and hi fi set is sitting on a trestle table brought in by the new occupants. The original, taller one made of superior timber is in the storage area. Photographs including those I sent over the years used to adorn the spot just above the TV. I didn't ask where they are now. Behind the TV is the bedroom used by grandmother, and later my mother. Grandmother, an aunt and I managed to go to Hong Kong in 1956. The bedroom is not in use now. To the left is a short corridor which leads to the storage area, things such as firewood and straw were kept. There used to be a cabinet suspended from the ceiling where food was kept safe from vermin. You'd find one in every home before electricity and refrigeration. To the end mother had never used a refrigerator. Past the storage area, we have the kitchen which has been "modernised" ( see photo ), and bathroom. To the delight of gathering children, mother used to make sweet sesame soup, almond soup or walnut soup for everyone in the smokey old kitchen on summer evenings. It is a delight I did not get to share for her only son is thousands of miles away from her. On the left wall is a colour photo of my mother. To the credit of the tenants, they put it up next to the two portraits. To the top right hand corner you can see the red lucky New Year poster which reads Things go smoothly in the Gold Mountain. Grandmother always had a new one on for every new year, to ensure her man in Vancouver worked well and in safety. Grandfather worked in sawmills, cutting timber tiles and shingles. It was well-paid but very dangerous work. Mother carried on the tradition, she too wanted her son to prosper in the gold mountain. To this end , I have never been unemployed. Thus, I am adamant that the lucky poster must be replaced every new year. It is one of my conditions of tenancy. Above the thresholds to the corridor and the staircase to the right, are hand-painted panels. The wording or verse was painted over by the marauding Red Guards because it was deemed too decadent. For over two decades mother suffered alone under Mao's disastrous policies. Our family were the the exploiters and enemies of the people because we owned land and had connections overseas, You can also see the narrow staircase leading to the first floor. It was here that nearly brought about my undoing. I was just a toddler then, eager to get downstairs not waiting for an adult to carry me. I lost my footing and fell down the stairs, hitting head first against the solid timber threshold. The impact cracked open my forehead, blood was gushing out. It was panic and pandemonium. I was the only male at home, I was very precious. In hastiness, grandmother grab a handful of pig feed to put into the open wound to stop the bleeding, then took me to a traditional herbalist and bone setter for treatment. It was later on, I don't know how late that people realised their folly, and took me to a western trained doctor ( in tyuti1668's village) for cleaning and dressing the deep cut. But the damage was done for no stitching could be performed. There were repeat visits with much tears of course. Almost sixty years later, I still vaguely remember the coaxing and promises every time I was taken to the surgery for cleaning and dressing. Today, I am still carrying the deep scare to remind me of that very serious injury. I think it did affect my faculties.
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Post by douglaslam on Jul 7, 2010 5:13:45 GMT -5
THE VILLAGE PEOPLE A survivor: the old woman who walks with a stoop and bow-legged is a survivor of two famines engineered by Mao. But her husband wasn't so lucky. He died in the famine in 1958 during the Great Leap Forward. That means she has been a widow for over fifty years and before her fortieth birthday. She walks bow-legged, a legacy of long years carrying heavy loads on her shoulders working in the paddy fields. Her hearing is very poor and she has lost some of her marbles. Nonetheless, she is loved in a subtle way. She is popularly called Lung Por, the Deaf One, Deaf Grandma or Deaf Old Woman. Readers not familiar with Chinese culture may be mistaken to think people are cruel to call her Lung Por. It is in fact an endearing term. She is now secure, she will never go hungry again, She used to be a non-stop worker, always wanted to find something to do. I love the simple village people like her. This is the main street of the old part of my village. The stone slab pavement is swept clean twice a day by migrant labourers. But people litter regardless. In yesteryear pigs used to roam the streets and leave poo behind. They were quickly scoped up to use as fertilizer. Now, it is dog poo, which is a nuisance. The street is quiet in the morning. In past visits, the street was bustling with people buying their morning meals from the hawkers. I love to see steam arising from steaming trays, especially in cold winter mornings, from the assorted food on offer. It has that surreal feeling to it. Now, they are all gone!But, where and why ? Only one cooked food stall and a baker are left further to the left of the street. In the glory days, I remember, even in the early days of communism, on market days hawkers would lay their goods on the street, all the way from tyuti1668's village to mine, snaking its way down the main street. There were all sorts of farm produce, medicinal herbs, dried fruit, wild games, poultry, snakes, frogs, river catches, in fact anything and everything. The place was alive and vibrant. Tyuti's village is smaller , but it had the high end stuff like western trained doctor, photograph studio, a rice mill etc. One person killed it all. You can also see a man in the background. Next to him is a vacant three-storey house,a very good house. I believe the owners have moved to Hong Kong and Australia. Like to meet them. To Lung Por's right, this is the entrance to a senior citizens' recreation centre. It is in fact a mah jong gaming place open to all.
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Post by douglaslam on Jul 8, 2010 4:34:25 GMT -5
Role reversal: This is something you are not likely to see not so many years back: a man who is carrying his grandson, soundly asleep, on his back. Times are changing, what used to be traditional woman's work now falls squarely, literally, on this man's shoulders. This is out of necessity, for the man's son, daughter-in-law, and wife are all holding jobs. Either he has retired or not able to find suitable work and the job of caring for junior naturally goes to him. And what a wonderful grandfather he proved to be. He feeds, bathes the child at home, and I see him also patiently toilet-trains the toddler. When the boy is out playing, granddad anticipates all hazards such as passing motorcycles and bicycles. I never hear him raise his voice when teaching the child. It is just a very tender loving granddad dispensing lots of TLC. What a lucky child! Children brought up in such warm caring environment make good solid citizens. There is just one minor blemish; granddad is a smoker and the playful boy was mildly burnt on the arm by a cigarette once. It is still not a practise to smoke away from children. The motorcycle ramp which is clearly visible, leads to nowhere. The solidly-built three storey house is locked and unoccupied. The owners have gone to the USA, No wonder the village is so quiet, and newcomers outnumber the locals.
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Post by helen on Jul 8, 2010 5:30:32 GMT -5
Douglas - are the portraits of charcoal? and what era? They look so serene
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Post by douglaslam on Jul 9, 2010 1:31:11 GMT -5
Hi Helen,
I have no idea when the original portraits were taken. We just accept them, not really want to find out if they were charcoal sketches. I think they were photo enlargement enhanced by charcoal. I shall look into it on my next visit.
The image posted was a digital reproduction with an artistic touch.
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Post by douglaslam on Jul 9, 2010 2:04:32 GMT -5
True grit : This is Ma Gor ( see Day 18, June 13), in his comfort zone at my place. He is always on my welcome guest list every visit. Behind him is the clear outline of the original portraits. The fruit in the tray is wong pei, or yellow skin. We have lychee and longan, (dragon eye) in Australia, but not wong pei. I have my first taste for many long years On the opposite wall you can see two plants. They have been around for as long as I can remember. When I was small, grandmother used to look for water droplets on the leaves. When they appeared, grandmother would tell me money was on the way from grandfather. It never fails. I am writing all these mundane things to give members a glimpse of what life was like for a typical family from the Pearl Delta whose rice-winner was in the gold mountain.
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Post by Ah Gin on Jul 9, 2010 6:01:23 GMT -5
Douglas,
I enjoy reading your many postings. Thanks for sharing and thanks for taking the time to fight technology in uploading the photos. For those members who had not been "back home", I think your postings paint a very good picture of what life used to be 40, 50 years ago, and what life seems to be now. Good on you.
I am one of the lucky ones with living connections back in our ancestral home village, in Hoiping as well. I love the city, perhaps even more than Taicheng -- maybe I am just bias to my "home town". Even though I was born overseas, somehow I feel equally connected with the place where my forbears came from. I walk freely in town and back to the villages and I feel I am part of the landscape, not like a visitor at all.
Looking at your pictures I would say your home village is affluent. And the building, furniture all reflect wealth -- and that is good for the family and clan remaining behind. By comparison, our villages (or rather cluster of villages where our clan members are located) are modest, but we are no less proud of our achievements -- good school, running water, concrete roads,good administration. Good thing is, we do have our own Clan Memorial Hall, as well Village Hall, which doubles as a village life focus point. I recall at my last visit home, I walked into a family wedding. In addition to "modern" celebrations at restaurants in town as well as just outside the village, we also had village square celebrations, just outside the Village Memorial Hall. Everyone helped in the food preparation, and cooking utensils, rice bowls, tables, chairs, all came from the village hall. Like all dutiful descendants, I had donated a small sum in the building of the Village Memorial Hall -- just like any overseas-born returning home.
I encourage you print out your Travel Log, complete with photos, etc. and get a copy to your State Library, clan library. Your family and folks after you will appreciate your painting of a picture that is slowly being transformed -- some say, to modern times.
Regards, Ah Gin
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Post by douglaslam on Jul 10, 2010 5:53:09 GMT -5
Hi Ah Gin, You are very generous with the compliments you heap on me. I don't think I am worthy of it. I am just putting in writing what interests me in China. I write about the common people, not the big end of town. Like Henry, I thank the webmaster Kevin for the space and putting up with me. Taking charge of the PC is beyond me. My children just go click, clink, click and I am hopelessly lost. Even with step by step instructions I wrote down, I still get myself stuck. Yes, it is something innate, you feel connected to the place even though you were born not in Hoiping. This is what David Suzuki said in a radio interview. He said he was riding on Tokyo subway, he looked at the reflections on the window, he could not see himself. He disappeared. That is the kind of intense personal experience you can get when you are back to your roots. When I was on my way to Taicheng to see Henry's nephew, I experienced something similar. The bus was not just transporting me to Taicheng, it was transporting me back in time. Just a short time out of Hoiping, there is a long stretch of the landscape without high-rise building, no industry, just traditional dwellings. I saw buffaloes working the fields, I saw ducks in ponds and streams. It was the China that I remember and love. Along the way, young mothers got on with their infant children, old folks and young went about their business. A warm glow emanated from the inside of me, I was overwhelmed by this very ordinary scene of daily life. I said to myself I am home, I am with the people I belong. I quite like Hoiping myself. Cost of living is even cheaper, and I found not as many migrant workers in the service sector. Hoisanwa still reigns supreme.
Everywhere I went to, I didn't see any abject poverty or people in rags. Chungshan and Hoiping are on par with each other in prosperity.
Douglas
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Post by douglaslam on Jul 10, 2010 6:17:21 GMT -5
Water babies: This is the toddler who is cared for by his grandfather. Just like any little boy, he loves playing water. He likes to try his hand at using the hand pump to draw water from the well. A much older boy who also loves playing with the cool, clean water from the well. Drenching myself with water drawn from a well is something I haven't done for longer than I care to remember. This is an open air shower with a transparent canopy. The hot humid weather makes condition ideal to cool my heels by bucket-loads of cold water. Well water is also used for laundry, cleaning and toilet flushing. A very legitimate way to beat the high cost of town water. The rash around my waist is probably caused by sweat, which has no place to go because of the tight fitting shorts. The reason: I put on 3 kg. in weight.
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Post by douglaslam on Jul 11, 2010 3:08:30 GMT -5
On the road: day 6 & 7, June 1, & 2. At the Garden Hotel, Zhaoxing. This is the room I share with my travel companion Ming. At 100 RMB/ night, which is less than A$20, even less in USD or Canadian dollar, it is a steal. This is probably the low season tariff. Any way, it is comfortable, it has air conditioning, TV, private amenities, and a hot water jug with two tea bags each. I am happy with what I get in return. Room with a view : pull the curtain, and you can look out to the moisture-laden gray sky and other peoples' balconies. Looking towards the horizon, there is a river which leads to Guangzhou, and a ferry service goes there. I am not sure if there is still a ferry run to Hong Kong. I prefer to travel by boat any day in the Pearl Delta. We did not explore the river bank for the unfortunate event which took place just a couple of hours later. Geoff and Helen, please take note. There is no excuse for not returning more often. Reasonble accomodation can be had for so little.
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Post by Ah Gin on Jul 11, 2010 4:05:23 GMT -5
Douglas,
My comments and encouragements to you, to compile your "Excellent Adventures in China" is from the bottom of my heart. Speaking generally, using English as our second language (or is it first?), we may not "write well" -- but you are writing from your heart, and nothing beats that. I am lucky enough have in my collection the "Fifth Impression May 1927 edition of "Revolt in the Desert" by TE Lawrence -- and his attitude to Editorial correction is nothing short of funny and cheeky (I know TE Lawrence was dealing with another world -- the Arab World) -- and at our age, we should learn from him: let's write down before the scene disappears -- certainly it will be yet so different again in another 20 years. (And I hope we will still be here - maybe in our 80s or 90s)
When travelling in China, I prefer to travel by public transport. e.g. The journeys from Hoiping to Zhongsun or Taichen were as you described. It was entertaining (to see the conductor haggling with the passengers) and at the same time touching (to see many villages from the bus window and to see things as described by my parents when they were young, and in China)
In Zhongshan, I usually stay with my BIL, in a "multi-story gated community development" at the port district. And it's a world away from the world that it was. Paddy fields gave way to high rise development for HK folks on retirement in mainland China. Oh progress.
More of your postings please. It's a pleasure to read.
Regards, Ah Gin
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Post by douglaslam on Jul 12, 2010 5:04:40 GMT -5
Bridge Over Quiet Water: I am at the footbridge, linking both banks of the river straddling Shekki, Chungshan's best known township. Ahh...Shekki the magical name for any small child in rural Chungshan back when I was a wee small boy. This was the big smoke. Wonder of all wonders,it was here I had my first ice treat, an ice block. And there were the whirling ceiling fans which had enchanted me . Going to Shekki was a full-day trip. It means either riding on the back of a bicycle with an adult or getting on the infrequent steam-powered bus. We travelled on a bumpy dirt road. The charcoal burning bus had to off load its passengers when going over a steep gradient. And when the best known landmark appeared, the pagoda on the hill, we knew Shekki could not be too far. I can never forget scenes like that. The footbridge joins a large department store to the opposite side. In the foreground is the original bridge which could be raised for large boats to pass through. There is a newer one which carries motor traffic further on. The old one is only for motorcycles and pedestrians. It has a low clearance. Low bridge clearance or not the waterway carries not one single boat on my many visits to the town. It is a far cry from the days before the tollways and expressways when the river was the life blood of commerce. You can still hear old people talking about the days before the first bridge was built, and people doing their laundry by the river. It is not unusual to hear stories of people who lived all their lives in the village only visited the town once or twice or not at all. Travel was cumbersome and had to be absolutely essential back in early 20th century, and the villagers were mostly self-sufficient. A very different world. To the left bank, there are many large hotels and specialized shopping centres like the computer city. The left side also marked the start of our Longdu-dialect speaking district. It is also the terminus for buses to cities and regional centres like Hong Kong, Guangzhou and Zhuhai. On both banks, the older single or double-storey buildings are all torn down, and with it much of the old charm. I remember landing on the left bank from Guangzhou on a barge with my large volume of baggage back in the 70s. A dozen bicycle couriers would crowd around me calling me cousin in my dialect to solicit my custom. It was a scene not to be forgotten. Where was my camera? Now, the bicycles are replaced by motorcycles and tricycles. Of course there are also taxis and buses. As usual, I prefer to wait for the # 10 bus in the hot sun like most other people. I am one of the crowd. Thank you for the kind words Ah Gin. I have a few more words to say before I conclude my travelogue. I am waiting for an USB stick to send out from China. It was left behind by mistake, a few more photos might be of interest to some members.
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Post by tyuti1668 on Jul 12, 2010 7:51:57 GMT -5
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Post by mugenpower168 on Jul 12, 2010 10:09:00 GMT -5
The left side also marked the start of our Longdu-dialect speaking district. I remember you previously stated that there are also some villages east of the Shekki river that also speak Longdu dialect eg. Liu Hou (寮後) Which other villages east of the river speak Longdu dialect?
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Post by douglaslam on Jul 13, 2010 2:30:35 GMT -5
Dragon Boat Festival: This is how the famous Chungshan sticky rice jung are made. It is normally a joint effort with two or more families having a share. Salted duck egg yolks , pork belly, beans and peanuts are the main ingredients. They jung are big in size, one large one could feed a small family. Boiling of the jung is done in a disused village hall. Two large tubs are used and a good supply of firewood. Cooking can take up to ten hours. Water is added when needed, when the jung are cooked, the dark rich soupy water does not go to waste. It is used as pig feed. A very rich formula I am sure. Note on the right hand side of the photo, there are face towels out on the line to dry. It is the living quarter of migrant workers. I can't help but admire the resilience of the workers from other provinces. They remind me of how difficult things were for our ancestors when they set foot in the New World. To the left, and not shown on the photo , there is also another group of migrant workers making the decrepit village hall home. It is affordable housing to them. I wish them well, and return one day to their ancestral villages in glory. Tyuti1668, thanks for the village name poem. In the little time I spent touring, I came across so many villages I have not heard of before. That highlights the remarkable ability of Henry in locating them.
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