A farewell to the first generation
The Chinese are not good at preserving things.
-Lee Ang, on finding props for his movie, Lust, Caution.
Right after the passing away of my paternal grandfather, his belongings were quickly cleared and his house was being prepared for renting out to potential tenants. No one wanted any of the relics that have been 'lying around and accumulating dust' way before the beginning of (my) time.
I'm not surprised that eventually the house will be sold off one day.
Why do I care when none of those things don't belong to me? Sentiments. Memories. Those are my answers.
I grew up celebrating every Chinese New Year at my grandfather's place. The oriental-looking pattern welded onto the grille gate has always been the first sight to greet me upon my arrival.
The words "letter box" may have been faded and the box itself repainted, but the mailman, like me will always remember its function.
For some reason, a hole was made in this otherwise complete brick wall. Our most popular speculation is that the purpose this hole was to facilitate communication between neighbours. Now it's been sealed up while the neighbour's house is being rebuilt.
Benches made from solid stones, like the one above, were out of manufacture since years ago.
Peering through the gates, I would see my grandfather sitting as his usual high back-rest chair in front of his workstation. My family would then call out to my grandfather (we had to shout pretty loud because he was hard of hearing), and he would hobhble over to open the gates for us.
The workstation is the desk to the left of the photo, but the chair has been moved out of the way and replaced with a stool.
The things that you grow up doing are the things that you'll never forget.
Like when me and my cousins, about 10 or so of us, gathered at grandfather's place for the Chinese New Year, we would play among ourselves right outside his house. I don't remember what silly things I've done before, but those were the days when family bonds felt close.
The one thing that we would do without fail is to consolidate the pyrotechnics that our parents have bought for us to play with during the festive season, and set them off together at some isolated spot. One of those places include the secluded alley that goes to the back of his house.
Entrance to the alley from the road. It used to be overgrown with weeds and whatnot (see below), and the houses around it used to be only 1 storey high. The condominium in the background is a relatively new addition to the neighbourhood.
Imagine the place looking like an extended version of the area in the centre of the photo. Somehow, the government cleaned up the entire alley except for the patch right behind this unit. Maybe the owner liked it this way.
Alleys like the above are a pretty good playground because it doesn't get in anybody's way, and we can set off enough fireworks to light up the place without letting the police find out who. Just that we couldn't afford it at that time.
During such events, the children will always be running off to play, while the adults hustle and bustle in the kitchen, getting meals ready and preparing desserts or some cooling herbal tea for everyone to enjoy.
If it was the Chinese New Year, we would have goodies to snack on if we got hungry waiting for the food to be ready. Sometimes, we would overeat and end up unable to take another bite for lunch. And subsequently comes the inevitable lecture on proper diet. However, greedy me can always eat what's placed in front of me, unless I really dislike the food.
A shot of the stove. Please note that the stove is not low, but that I'm shooting from a greater elevation.
According to one of my uncles, this egg basket was hand-made by my dad. He never mentioned it to me himself though.
My grandfather lives by himself with a maid, though he sometimes rent a room out to other tenants. These bowls are put to use only when everyone is gathered around at his house.
This corner of the kitchen, which took up at least 30% floor space of the house, is reserved for cooking.
The utensils found in my grandfather's place looked like they belonged to another era.
The cooking area was never enough, so we had to expand and improvise.
The bathroom in my grandfather's house utilises the ancient and primitive method of scooping up water from a water storage and pouring it over yourself. I've never tried bathing at his house before - and I've no intention to - but I know it'll always be a cold experience.
You don't see such 'shower facilities' around any more.
There has always been this 'extension' in my grandfather's house, at the rear end of the kitchen area. I'm not sure if it came with the house or was it added on subsequently due to lack of space, but this room has served my family on and off over the decades.
This rickety old addition is made completely out of wood, and it's a miracle that it didn't fall victim to termites or the highly humid local climate. I climbed up the 'reinforced' steps (it's actually a steel ladder tied over the wooden ones because some of them were broken) into the room.
If you look more closely at the handrail, you'll notice that it's no longer intact, to say the least.
The climb itself was a mad rush of adrenaline, because there's no telling if the steps could still hold my weight. I had to carry my camera in one hand, leaving only one free hand to climb, and my knee injury hasn't fully recovered. If the worst had happened, I'd have ended up in a hospital (and my camera in the Canon service centre).
Before you think I'm kidding, take a look at the height I scaled.
I had to climb 2 more steps after the end of this ladder.
My parents had slept in here for a few years after they got married. Subsequently, they moved into their own flat and this space was used by others. I don't know its exact history, but the last user was a tenant who rented a room in my grandfather's house while he was still around.
Now, this place looks like an abandoned store room, cluttered with furniture and appliances of the past users, and covered with a thick layer of dust.
Cane chairs are things of the long forgotten past. Click on the image to view full size (and note the dust lying around the place). Abandoned stuff were wrapped in plastic bags.
I came upon this little toy hanging by the window, probably left behind by the last tenant to use this room.
Looking at those 2 cane chairs, I wondered if I've sat on them before. Perhaps I did, when I was very young. Perhaps I was still a chubby little boy with a huge appetite then. I can't remember exactly any more.
In fact, there are more and more things I can't recall vividly. Like an old man ageing, memories of the past tend to fade away as they become more distant. Not wanting to forget any more, I turn to my Canon Powershot. Everything of sentimental value can be captured and stored as a digtal image, whereupon each time I look at them, a story of the past will surface in my mind and I'll go
"Hey, I remember that time when I used to....."
-Lee Ang, on finding props for his movie, Lust, Caution.
Right after the passing away of my paternal grandfather, his belongings were quickly cleared and his house was being prepared for renting out to potential tenants. No one wanted any of the relics that have been 'lying around and accumulating dust' way before the beginning of (my) time.
I'm not surprised that eventually the house will be sold off one day.
Why do I care when none of those things don't belong to me? Sentiments. Memories. Those are my answers.
I grew up celebrating every Chinese New Year at my grandfather's place. The oriental-looking pattern welded onto the grille gate has always been the first sight to greet me upon my arrival.
The words "letter box" may have been faded and the box itself repainted, but the mailman, like me will always remember its function.
For some reason, a hole was made in this otherwise complete brick wall. Our most popular speculation is that the purpose this hole was to facilitate communication between neighbours. Now it's been sealed up while the neighbour's house is being rebuilt.
Benches made from solid stones, like the one above, were out of manufacture since years ago.
Peering through the gates, I would see my grandfather sitting as his usual high back-rest chair in front of his workstation. My family would then call out to my grandfather (we had to shout pretty loud because he was hard of hearing), and he would hobhble over to open the gates for us.
The workstation is the desk to the left of the photo, but the chair has been moved out of the way and replaced with a stool.
The things that you grow up doing are the things that you'll never forget.
Like when me and my cousins, about 10 or so of us, gathered at grandfather's place for the Chinese New Year, we would play among ourselves right outside his house. I don't remember what silly things I've done before, but those were the days when family bonds felt close.
The one thing that we would do without fail is to consolidate the pyrotechnics that our parents have bought for us to play with during the festive season, and set them off together at some isolated spot. One of those places include the secluded alley that goes to the back of his house.
Entrance to the alley from the road. It used to be overgrown with weeds and whatnot (see below), and the houses around it used to be only 1 storey high. The condominium in the background is a relatively new addition to the neighbourhood.
Imagine the place looking like an extended version of the area in the centre of the photo. Somehow, the government cleaned up the entire alley except for the patch right behind this unit. Maybe the owner liked it this way.
Alleys like the above are a pretty good playground because it doesn't get in anybody's way, and we can set off enough fireworks to light up the place without letting the police find out who. Just that we couldn't afford it at that time.
During such events, the children will always be running off to play, while the adults hustle and bustle in the kitchen, getting meals ready and preparing desserts or some cooling herbal tea for everyone to enjoy.
If it was the Chinese New Year, we would have goodies to snack on if we got hungry waiting for the food to be ready. Sometimes, we would overeat and end up unable to take another bite for lunch. And subsequently comes the inevitable lecture on proper diet. However, greedy me can always eat what's placed in front of me, unless I really dislike the food.
A shot of the stove. Please note that the stove is not low, but that I'm shooting from a greater elevation.
According to one of my uncles, this egg basket was hand-made by my dad. He never mentioned it to me himself though.
My grandfather lives by himself with a maid, though he sometimes rent a room out to other tenants. These bowls are put to use only when everyone is gathered around at his house.
This corner of the kitchen, which took up at least 30% floor space of the house, is reserved for cooking.
The utensils found in my grandfather's place looked like they belonged to another era.
The cooking area was never enough, so we had to expand and improvise.
The bathroom in my grandfather's house utilises the ancient and primitive method of scooping up water from a water storage and pouring it over yourself. I've never tried bathing at his house before - and I've no intention to - but I know it'll always be a cold experience.
You don't see such 'shower facilities' around any more.
There has always been this 'extension' in my grandfather's house, at the rear end of the kitchen area. I'm not sure if it came with the house or was it added on subsequently due to lack of space, but this room has served my family on and off over the decades.
This rickety old addition is made completely out of wood, and it's a miracle that it didn't fall victim to termites or the highly humid local climate. I climbed up the 'reinforced' steps (it's actually a steel ladder tied over the wooden ones because some of them were broken) into the room.
If you look more closely at the handrail, you'll notice that it's no longer intact, to say the least.
The climb itself was a mad rush of adrenaline, because there's no telling if the steps could still hold my weight. I had to carry my camera in one hand, leaving only one free hand to climb, and my knee injury hasn't fully recovered. If the worst had happened, I'd have ended up in a hospital (and my camera in the Canon service centre).
Before you think I'm kidding, take a look at the height I scaled.
I had to climb 2 more steps after the end of this ladder.
My parents had slept in here for a few years after they got married. Subsequently, they moved into their own flat and this space was used by others. I don't know its exact history, but the last user was a tenant who rented a room in my grandfather's house while he was still around.
Now, this place looks like an abandoned store room, cluttered with furniture and appliances of the past users, and covered with a thick layer of dust.
Cane chairs are things of the long forgotten past. Click on the image to view full size (and note the dust lying around the place). Abandoned stuff were wrapped in plastic bags.
I came upon this little toy hanging by the window, probably left behind by the last tenant to use this room.
Looking at those 2 cane chairs, I wondered if I've sat on them before. Perhaps I did, when I was very young. Perhaps I was still a chubby little boy with a huge appetite then. I can't remember exactly any more.
In fact, there are more and more things I can't recall vividly. Like an old man ageing, memories of the past tend to fade away as they become more distant. Not wanting to forget any more, I turn to my Canon Powershot. Everything of sentimental value can be captured and stored as a digtal image, whereupon each time I look at them, a story of the past will surface in my mind and I'll go
"Hey, I remember that time when I used to....."
posted by Tengkia | 3:15 pm
|
Level of response: 1
Level of response: 1
Hey kid. That was really touching. Makes me feel nostalgic.
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