The sounds of this HanCheng night market bubbled towards us. We walked in and like stepping into an ocean, the introduction was gentle and light, but before we knew it, we were swallowed by the vendors shouting, the cigarette smoke, the smells of chili, cumin, and grilling meat, and circles of people drunken off reminiscing over old stories, joking, the high of uninhibited eating, and maybe a few bottles of beer. My cousin, Jing Jing, called the waitress over and directed her to bring out varying lamb skewers, beef ligament skewers, chicken wing skewers, sausage skewers, bottles of soda for everyone, and all the other miscellaneous items our family orders called out to her to order.
Forty minutes later, a food-induced stupor had fallen over the older adults as the younger amongst up kept charging forward, polishing off skewer after skewer. The youngest generation in our pack had begun their usual shenanigans born out boredom. Xuan Xuan, one of my many five year old cousins, had begun entertaining himself by going through each unopened soda bottle one by one and shaking it rigorously to watch it fizz. (15 minutes later, one of my aunts opened one and received a surprise). My four year old cousin, ErDai, had just eaten a skewer that was too spicy so he bounced up and down with his mouth open, tongue out as if he could shake that spice out of himself or just to distract himself from the spice momentarily. DongZeHao (a.k.a ChouDai), a six grader whose one of the oldest in this generation of cousins, had been eating nonstop the entire time, so intently that we had forgotten about him. He now told his mom that he was too full and wanted to puke. We then noticed that Xuan Xuan was suddenly nowhere to be found and we all looked around. Before we could even call out for him, we saw him standing on the edge of the back of a small wagon. We saw that he wanted to jump down, a height that the parents were uncomfortable with, and he jumped before any of us could react. He landed as if that was nothing, looked up at all of us, and smiled mischievously.
Family is so important. We’re told all our lives and yet it takes moments like this to remind us. I have an interesting relationship with my family. To first speak on my immediate family, we’re generally in sync with each other — our wellbeing, what things we’re doing these days, what our friends are up to, etc. But we’re blindly focused on the time range from two weeks ago to six months into the future, nothing less nothing more. My parents almost never talk about their history or the history of my other relatives or grandparents. They rarely talk about what they hope their life will be like 1, 5, 10 years from now or what they hope to do in retirement. I also haven’t been asking. I want to know all this and know it’ll give me a deeper bond with my family. For the longest time, I didn’t know what my grandparents on my dad’s side did in their career. I didn’t know that one of my eldest cousins dropped out of high school midway through because the culture of education in our family wasn’t that strong yet. It often surprises me how little I asked about their past and how many assumptions I was just happy to keep. I believe that a great way of strengthening familial relationships is to start by asking about their history. I’ve spoken to my family about this and during this trip back to China, my family has taken me to a couple places that helped me connect with their histories and mine. We went to a museum that revealed the lives of the royal family that governed the ancient kingdom, Rui Guo, where my hometown is located before China was unified. I went to the village where my grandparents used to live. I’ve audio recorded a few stories told by my grandfather. Piece by piece, I hope to amend this hole in my conception of my family and myself.
