CHING MING in SYDNEY
Apr 18, 2012 1:58:34 GMT -5
Post by douglaslam on Apr 18, 2012 1:58:34 GMT -5
Ching Ming is a time to honour and venerate our dear departed. It is one of the things that defines and distinguishes us as a people. April 15 was our Chungshan Society's annual outing to the cemetery. The date was chosen so as to avoid the crush earlier in the month. It was a fine, sunny, and warm autumn day, a bus was provided to take those members in need of transport, free of charge, to Rookwood Cemetery, which is the largest necropolis in the southern hemisphere.
This is our rebuilt and refurbished club house which was re-dedicated last October to co-incide with the centenary of the Xinhai Revolution. ( I filed a photo-report on this board last October.)
A latest air-conditioned bus conveys the mostly older members to the cemetery.
Off the bus, the people are making their way to a public memorial dedicated to fellow Chungshan settlers in Australia. The old man with a walking aid is shuffling along, undaunted.
A tent or marquee is erected to provide cover from the sun. The pavilion appears on the right corner of the tent. On past occasions we have experienced gusty winds, or rain which made conditions very unpleasant. This is just about perfect weather.
The tent and some of our fellow Chungshanese. The memorial is dedicated to those who had passed away. It was a brilliant idea and great foresight to have secured land for the purpose. Other district associations, cashed-up with money wanted to follow suit but the cemetery trust put a stop to it.
Donations from members are accepted and acknowledged. It is strictly voluntary.
Many people arrived by private transport and took with them drinks, food, and tables and chairs. There were also large amount of incense sticks, candles and paper offerings to burn for our forebears.
Here, we have two men carrying a roast pig to feast the spirits and every one else after.
The ritual of lighting the incense sticks, candles, burning paper offerings and a variety of food to please the spirits.
The smokers are not forgotten as a cigarette is lit amongst the incense.
The memorial in full view ( almost ). There is a fee for placing an ancestor's photo at the memorial. My uncle is among those being honoured here.
A variety of food is on offer to the spirits of our ancestors.
This man is earnest in what he is doing, paying respect to his ancestors the way he knew and was taught.
It is not all about food, flowers too, are on display. Notice the reserved spots with the longevity character in red. They are for those who are still with us.
We have a choice of enjoying the food in the tent or pavilion. The pavilion won. The pavilion looking from outside. It is quite spacious. This is a replacement for the original which was too small and too run-down. I can't remember what it was like. A fund-raising drive kicked-off in the late 1960s by civic-minded members of the Chinese community to raise money for the rebuild. The cost comes to about $40,000. That was an enormous sum. What is more remarkable, a widow donated $8,000 and thus the pavilion was named in her husband's honour. The pavilion was re-opened at Ching Ming time in April 1970 by a minister of the crown.
To my regret, I did not contribute to the fund-raising. I was doing it tough then, but that was no excuse for not doing a bit more belt-tightening and come up with $10 or so.
Everyone is tucking into the food, it is a great community-feel to the occasion. There is a great sense of community, of belonging, and identity.
Still oink oinking. Some lucky person will take it home to make soup or congee aka jook. It is tasty as it is, and goes down well with a cold beer or rice wine.
I am doing what I do best.
Other large family groups are also sharing the pavilion. Here is one with the right idea of carving up a roast pig for a hearty lunch after offering it to their ancestors first.
On this outing, everyone speaks Cantonese, as is the case of our group, some of us speak Chungshan dialects like Shekki and Longdu. Young people, and a few oldies who were born here, speak English mainly. There are no Mandarin speakers, not yet anyway. Cantonese is still alive.
This is a well-kept section. Cemeteries are a veritable treasure trove of information for genealogy research. I like to spend time walking, and reading the inscription on the tombstones. It saddens me to see the old section dating back to early 20th and 19th century, where the graves are not tended, and the sandstone slab inscriptions are weather-beaten and became illegible. These are mostly the lonely men who died here with no family ties. A stark reminder of the White Australia Policy.
A Tragic Love Story: I knew about it, still I was not quite prepared for the visual impact of seeing it. It hit me hard.
This is a joint burial of a very young couple. The young man and young woman were 18 and 17 years old respectively. They were two Australian-born Chinese, who were so deeply in love that they sought their parents permission to get married. The girl's parents were not pleased. The couple saw no way out but to die together in defiance, inside a car. Their choice was carbon monoxide poisoning by attaching a host to the car exhaust.
The double suicide happened fifty years ago on March 5, 1962. It was sensational news at the time, and made headlines throughout the country. It shook the Chinese community to the core.
It was a time when the Chinese community was small, every one seems to know every one else if not by name, certainly by sight, in the Haymarket or Chinatown area, It was a time the shoppers know the shop owners and the assistants. The only time the Chinese made the news was when one of their own get deported.
I had been in the country not yet three months then. I did not have the language skill to read the newspapers, and we did not have a television set. They last locally produced Chinese newspaper closed some years before my arrival. There was little I could learn about this tragic event. But I remember it so clearly. I always wanted to locate the couple's grave . This I did, by asking our Society president who has been in Sydney longer than I do and can readily recall the event. He found and pointed out the grave to me.
There is still a void in my knowledge of the tragedy. Who is better to call than my good friend King Fong? He tells me the couple was in Canberra, where they chose to end their lives. The girl's parents had a restaurant on Campbell St. an extension of Chinatown. But they were very private and did not interact with the Chinese community in general. King Fong knows even less about the young man's family background.
The couple's wish to become man and wife was realised after death as etched in the tombstone. The inscription also tells us the girl was of Chungshan roots. The young man was of Hebei province origin. Hebei is next to Beijing, which comes as a surprise to me. I feel a deep sense of grief for the loss two young lives for they were not much older than I was at the time.
It must have been a crushing blow to both sets of parents. The girl's parents would have to live with the burden of guilt for the rest of their lives. The struggle they face must have been a heart-breaking one when they visit the grave at Ching Ming time each year. It is a sad, sad story.
In 1962, there were four daily newspapers in Sydney namely the Sydney Morning Herald, a broadsheet, and three tabloids, the Daily Telegraph, the Sun, and Daily Mirror. Many of our members are adept at online research. Please look into the newspaper archives for the full story. I want to catch up fifty years on.
On our way home, there is smile all round for we have fulfilled our duty to honour our ancestors or deceased fellow-travellers from our county or district in a country called Australia. It is a satisfying, a warm, and glow experience. We'll do it again come April next year.
This is our rebuilt and refurbished club house which was re-dedicated last October to co-incide with the centenary of the Xinhai Revolution. ( I filed a photo-report on this board last October.)
A latest air-conditioned bus conveys the mostly older members to the cemetery.
Off the bus, the people are making their way to a public memorial dedicated to fellow Chungshan settlers in Australia. The old man with a walking aid is shuffling along, undaunted.
A tent or marquee is erected to provide cover from the sun. The pavilion appears on the right corner of the tent. On past occasions we have experienced gusty winds, or rain which made conditions very unpleasant. This is just about perfect weather.
The tent and some of our fellow Chungshanese. The memorial is dedicated to those who had passed away. It was a brilliant idea and great foresight to have secured land for the purpose. Other district associations, cashed-up with money wanted to follow suit but the cemetery trust put a stop to it.
Donations from members are accepted and acknowledged. It is strictly voluntary.
Many people arrived by private transport and took with them drinks, food, and tables and chairs. There were also large amount of incense sticks, candles and paper offerings to burn for our forebears.
Here, we have two men carrying a roast pig to feast the spirits and every one else after.
The ritual of lighting the incense sticks, candles, burning paper offerings and a variety of food to please the spirits.
The smokers are not forgotten as a cigarette is lit amongst the incense.
The memorial in full view ( almost ). There is a fee for placing an ancestor's photo at the memorial. My uncle is among those being honoured here.
A variety of food is on offer to the spirits of our ancestors.
This man is earnest in what he is doing, paying respect to his ancestors the way he knew and was taught.
It is not all about food, flowers too, are on display. Notice the reserved spots with the longevity character in red. They are for those who are still with us.
We have a choice of enjoying the food in the tent or pavilion. The pavilion won. The pavilion looking from outside. It is quite spacious. This is a replacement for the original which was too small and too run-down. I can't remember what it was like. A fund-raising drive kicked-off in the late 1960s by civic-minded members of the Chinese community to raise money for the rebuild. The cost comes to about $40,000. That was an enormous sum. What is more remarkable, a widow donated $8,000 and thus the pavilion was named in her husband's honour. The pavilion was re-opened at Ching Ming time in April 1970 by a minister of the crown.
To my regret, I did not contribute to the fund-raising. I was doing it tough then, but that was no excuse for not doing a bit more belt-tightening and come up with $10 or so.
Everyone is tucking into the food, it is a great community-feel to the occasion. There is a great sense of community, of belonging, and identity.
Still oink oinking. Some lucky person will take it home to make soup or congee aka jook. It is tasty as it is, and goes down well with a cold beer or rice wine.
I am doing what I do best.
Other large family groups are also sharing the pavilion. Here is one with the right idea of carving up a roast pig for a hearty lunch after offering it to their ancestors first.
On this outing, everyone speaks Cantonese, as is the case of our group, some of us speak Chungshan dialects like Shekki and Longdu. Young people, and a few oldies who were born here, speak English mainly. There are no Mandarin speakers, not yet anyway. Cantonese is still alive.
This is a well-kept section. Cemeteries are a veritable treasure trove of information for genealogy research. I like to spend time walking, and reading the inscription on the tombstones. It saddens me to see the old section dating back to early 20th and 19th century, where the graves are not tended, and the sandstone slab inscriptions are weather-beaten and became illegible. These are mostly the lonely men who died here with no family ties. A stark reminder of the White Australia Policy.
A Tragic Love Story: I knew about it, still I was not quite prepared for the visual impact of seeing it. It hit me hard.
This is a joint burial of a very young couple. The young man and young woman were 18 and 17 years old respectively. They were two Australian-born Chinese, who were so deeply in love that they sought their parents permission to get married. The girl's parents were not pleased. The couple saw no way out but to die together in defiance, inside a car. Their choice was carbon monoxide poisoning by attaching a host to the car exhaust.
The double suicide happened fifty years ago on March 5, 1962. It was sensational news at the time, and made headlines throughout the country. It shook the Chinese community to the core.
It was a time when the Chinese community was small, every one seems to know every one else if not by name, certainly by sight, in the Haymarket or Chinatown area, It was a time the shoppers know the shop owners and the assistants. The only time the Chinese made the news was when one of their own get deported.
I had been in the country not yet three months then. I did not have the language skill to read the newspapers, and we did not have a television set. They last locally produced Chinese newspaper closed some years before my arrival. There was little I could learn about this tragic event. But I remember it so clearly. I always wanted to locate the couple's grave . This I did, by asking our Society president who has been in Sydney longer than I do and can readily recall the event. He found and pointed out the grave to me.
There is still a void in my knowledge of the tragedy. Who is better to call than my good friend King Fong? He tells me the couple was in Canberra, where they chose to end their lives. The girl's parents had a restaurant on Campbell St. an extension of Chinatown. But they were very private and did not interact with the Chinese community in general. King Fong knows even less about the young man's family background.
The couple's wish to become man and wife was realised after death as etched in the tombstone. The inscription also tells us the girl was of Chungshan roots. The young man was of Hebei province origin. Hebei is next to Beijing, which comes as a surprise to me. I feel a deep sense of grief for the loss two young lives for they were not much older than I was at the time.
It must have been a crushing blow to both sets of parents. The girl's parents would have to live with the burden of guilt for the rest of their lives. The struggle they face must have been a heart-breaking one when they visit the grave at Ching Ming time each year. It is a sad, sad story.
In 1962, there were four daily newspapers in Sydney namely the Sydney Morning Herald, a broadsheet, and three tabloids, the Daily Telegraph, the Sun, and Daily Mirror. Many of our members are adept at online research. Please look into the newspaper archives for the full story. I want to catch up fifty years on.
On our way home, there is smile all round for we have fulfilled our duty to honour our ancestors or deceased fellow-travellers from our county or district in a country called Australia. It is a satisfying, a warm, and glow experience. We'll do it again come April next year.