Chiney Chronicles

Will you be posting anymore chapters? I really liked reading them.

Fri, 30 Sep 2011 21:48:14 -0400

Hi, thanks. I usually need to be in a mindset to write. With your prompt, I will try to write more frequently :)

Chapter 2: Guyana-bound (1st March, 1994)

Fri, 22 Apr 2011 19:54:00 -0400

I had always been fascinated by aeroplanes - I used to imagine myself a pilot. Three days before the beginning of March, my entire family took a tour of Guangzhou’s Baiyun Airport (or so I thought). I was certain that they brought me here because they all knew how much I loved aeroplanes and, luckily, I was inside one moments later.

Ridiculously fascinating. How does this stay in the sky, and my paper planes don’t?

Seated on the plane, I was in a juxtaposition of excitement and anxiety. I loved planes, but I knew that they took people very far away. Now that I think back, my mother never found it necessary notify me that we were leaving ‘home’. So imagine this - the night before our departure, I went to bed oblivious of the fact that my life was about to change completely. I was woken up by my mother the following morning, and suddenly I am in a plane.

“Mom check this out - you don’t even need to walk up and down the stairs in an airport; they move. Nice. I’m glad we came to tour the airport. What’s that? We’re touring INSIDE an airplane as well?? :D”

Soon, we were in the sky and I was terrified (both of heights and the growing distance between me and my family). We travelled from Guangzhou to Holland, then to Suriname and finally Guyana. I kept asking for my beloved grandmother during the journey.

We arrived in Guyana on the night of March 1, 1994. I was the alien here, but everyone looked like an alien to me. I couldn’t understand what people were saying, and why they looked so dark. My father used to tell me that if I ate too much watermelons, my skin would become red. Hence, the notion of an abundance of chocolate came to mind.

You have chocolate for breakfast, lunch AND dinner? Sign me up.

We soon saw my father waiting for us, and I temporarily discarded the mysteries surrounding me. Having been apart for two years, I was ecstatic to see him again. We left Cheddi Jagan International Airport for our new home in Campbellville. The walk was rather long and tiring. Also, it was very dark, and I couldn’t see much of this new land.

Pictured: Guyana at night in 1994, before installation of street lamps. (Exaggerated, slightly.)

We arrived at our modest apartment, and as excited as I was, my eyes failed to remain open. It was a long voyage after all, and I would need them wide-open the following morning for what I was about to discover.

Chapter 1: Guangzhou, China (Circa 1987-1994)

Wed, 20 Apr 2011 23:26:00 -0400

I do not have too lucid of a memory of life before Guyana. My father had a motorcycle. I would sit in front, and rev. In retrospect, having a 5 year old kid control the speed of the bike is rather unwise. He left for Guyana in 1992 in search for better opportunities with his best friend (my mother, sister, and I arrived in 1994). He bought me a lot of toys, so he was an alright chap. My mother worked in a sewing factory, and I would end up next to her ‘sewing station’ after school. She is the hardest working person I know, even until now. I believe the last thing I learned in school was to count/write to one hundred using the method of counting as we all know it (that is - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…100), as opposed writing numbers in Chinese, as shown below.)

Writing numbers in Chinese. Boy, am I glad I got out of there before sh*t got real.

My best friend was my cousin; he is an older sibling figure. We played by the swings in school until we get bullied off of them by older kids. I would have fought for my rights, but my ‘big brother’ knew better… than to allow me to bring tragedy to their parents.

My maternal grandfather kept the family close. We have dinners frequently together at his house. The dinning table was always noisy and festive. We each have a bowl of white rice, and we all use chop sticks to pick from various dishes in the center of the table (much like how you would dine in New Thriving’s round tables with the rotating layer of glass). It is customary in the Chinese culture to show respect to your elders by picking the best piece of whichever dish (the chicken leg, for example), and place it in their bowl of rice. Vice versa, it is a sign of adoration if an elder gives you the chicken leg. Needless to say, I have been the recipient of the chicken leg, once.

As we are on the subject of table etiquette - during tea drinking, you should refill the cups of your friends before you refill yours (even if their cups are almost full). Conversely, if someone pours you tea, you should gently tap the table surface next to your cup with one finger. This says “thank you”. It is rather tedious to vocally express thanks frequently, as the cups are small, and refill intervals are short.

A Chinese family meal. This is not my family. That Chinese kid is not me. Clearly, his name is Thomas.

My cousins were all smart. I would guess this is as a result of them all competing to impress my grandfather. There seems be competition among our parents to impress my grandfather, as well. They would have their kids competing fiercely in school to make themselves look good, as if we were academic pokemons (haha, am I right?). I think, due to this competition, you attain the stereotypical “Asian smart”.

Pictured: “Asian Smart”

I would not have remembered this if I had not decided to start this blog - on the day we left for the airport, there was torrential rainfall. Our bus ride got stuck in a hole, which was opaqued in sight by the flood. It was as if a force was trying to stop us from reaching the airport, but, as luck would have it, I was inside a plane (yes, a PLANE) later that day.