April 29 Sunday


The Village

We took a high speed catamaran from Hong Kong up the Pearl River Delta into Zhongshan county of Guangzhou Province. The crowded cat took about 1 hour 45 minutes to reach its destination. From the ferry terminal, Shiqi was a 30 minute auto ride. We dropped off our things at the hotel and took another 30 minute drive to my dad's village.

My father last visited his village in 1978. At that time the roads were unpaved. Now there are multi-laned highways. My dad lived in the home you see below untill 1946. His father had the home built in 1928.



The home is now abandoned. The last of my uncles and aunts who lived here immigrated to America in 1983. My father and his brothers and sisters will eventually have to decide what to do with it. In the living room is an altar piece.



My paternal grandfather's home is fairly typical for that era. The ones next to it looked very similar. In Shiqi, the capital of Zhongshan county, there are many high rises and homes that look like ones you would find in a suburb in America. But when you go out to the villages, you see homes like these.



China's population is about 1.2 billion. The overseas Chinese or Chinese diaspora number as of 1999 was estimated to be about 34.5 million. Often times, the overseas Chinese bring money back to their old villages where they came from. This was the case of my paternal grandfather who in the early 20th century was a businessman in Hawaii. Periodically, he would return to the village. My dad and a number of my uncles and aunts were born in the village as a result of those visits. This building is the Chun family association community center built with funds from the various members of the Chun clan from this village. The character on the right side of the sign is my surname. It is often rendered Chan or Chen. But because of my family's Hawaii connection, we got the less frequent variant Chun.



Impressions: THE IMMIGRANT'S STORY

Anyone who goes back to their ancestral roots feels something quite powerful. I was walking in the place that my father and his father walked on. Though the geneological trail grows cold just a mere one more generation back, there is no reason to doubt that my ancestors were here or near here for many many generations back.

So I felt a kinship with them. Some of the values I hold come from them from this place. I have a better sense of why my mom and dad are the way they are. The hardships of World War II in the village shaped them. The poverty. The food shortages. The Japanese soldiers controlling the region by day and the Communist guerillas at night.

I also felt disconnected from them. I was born in America. I was raised in America. My life has been in comparative luxury. And you know what, my ancestors if they could talk with me would understand that. Sure they would feel I'm not Chinese enough but they would also celebrate the fact that the risk they took paid off.

The immigrant story has elements of nostalgia for the homeland but at its core it is a story of adventure in that the immigrant has DECIDED to LEAVE what he/she knows for a place he/she doesn't know but believes will be better for themselves and for their children and children's children.

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