When my laoye, maternal grandfather, asked us to go to Chaozhou for two days, it caught us by surprise. Chaozhou, a city in China’s Guangdong Province, is known abroad as Canton. It is also my grandfather’s birth town and the ancestral home of my mother’s side of the family. My grandfather’s aunt had recently undergone surgery so he wanted to visit. I had never been, and since there was only one semester left of college, this was the only chance to go with him. It would be an opportunity to learn more about my heritage and the perfect excuse to go somewhere warmer before Winter Break ended and I had to embrace the Boston cold again. However, I forgot what an ordeal family visits could be.
We first gathered in Shenzhen, the second largest city in Guangdong, where my grandparents lived. Family members flew in from Shanghai and Tianjin. Then we took the long road trip. The majority of my grandfather’s siblings and relatives still lived in Chaozhou and, thus, our itinerary contained a series of house visits, a banquet, and a city tour. However, the hardest part was getting the relatives’ names right. Unlike in the US where relatives are just uncles and aunts, grandfathers and grandmothers, brothers, sisters, and cousins, there is a much more elaborate system in China.
My grandfather is the oldest of five children. We first met our erlaoye, literally Second Grandfather, otherwise known as Great Uncle in English. Erwaipo, Second Grandmother (Great Aunt), was present as well. We sat in their spacious and bright living room with the table already set for tea. Chaozhou is best known for its phoenix tea, which gets its name from nearby Phoenix Mountain. It’s customary to serve visitors tea and snacks, and accepting is the only polite response. Grandfather introduced us in the Chaozhou dialect and the conversation remained undecipherable. We later gave the visiting gifts and then went to his aunt’s place down the road. Erlaoye’s son led the way. I asked him what was the proper term to call him and he shrugged, just as clueless as I was. My great-grandaunt’s (is that even correct?) home was already filled with four generations under the same roof. From Great-grandaunt to her six-month-old great-grandchild to the child’s mother who married into the family, I gave up on figuring out the appropriate titles for all the family relations.
Great-grandaunt sat in her wheelchair and tried to get up multiple times, excited by all the visitors. When she took my hand, she grinned and patted it lightly. I knew this would be the first and last time we would meet so I held her hand for as long as possible. With all the people that needed to be greeted and welcomed, it was brief. Another tradition then hit us unaware. One of the relatives in the apartment came in with red envelopes. Chinese New Year was fast approaching and giving red money envelopes signifies bringing wealth into a new year.
Afterwards, we drove into Chaozhou’s Old Town to see the home Grandfather was born in. It was there I learnt our family business had been sausage making. Erlaoye’s son ran the business and converted the old house into the factory. Most rooms were full of machinery, but one room contained the family shrine and another, where my grandfather and his brothers once slept, had been converted into the work lounge.
A stick of incense burned as the first offering. We had more phoenix tea and then, Grandfather called us over. The shrine was just a wooden table with fruits, meat buns, a roast duck, and spirit money around an incense bowl that contained two candles for the great-grandfather and great-grandmother we were kowtowing to. Kowtowing may have imperialistic implications in the West, but historically, we kneel and touch the ground with our forehead in worship or submission. Many emperors, officials, and family heads have been kowtowed to, and it remains a traditional gesture symbolizing deep respect. When called over, we would kowtow three times before the table while Grandfather announced us to the spirits. After the difficulty of keeping up with relative titles earlier, this was grounding and reflective in comparison.
Caught in the moment, Grandfather began a long monologue about how far the family had come. My great-grandfather died young, buried in an unmarked grave by a forgotten roadside. Those were the early days of the Cultural Revolution and people marched across the country into exile. Great-grandmother raised five kids herself and died of illness in her early forties. My grandfather joined the military to support his siblings and became an officer. That eventually led to meeting our grandmother. After kowtowing, we burned stacks of spirit money, the currency of the afterlife, in a tin barrel. Since great-grandfather and grandmother’s lives were so difficult, we hoped that they made it to a kinder place.
We walked around the premises before continuing to explore Chaozhou’s Old Town. The trip through heritage and history hit me harder than I expected it to. It placed our success in the context of our humble beginnings. Since “visiting home,” as the eldest daughter of the eldest daughter of the eldest son, I realized I had a legacy to live up to. Many descendants of immigrants, like myself, feel the pressure to not waste their parents’ sacrifices and hard work. We learn to navigate freely between our identities and become a part of the adopted country despite instances of confusion like those I had recently experienced upon reentering the US at Border Control. My lack of a US permanent address while holding a US passport led to a short interrogation to make sure I was “American enough.” It’s a frustrating part of life we live with; however, we are not defined by our citizenship and paperwork. Chaozhou remains a physical home for my grandfather’s clan while it is something I now carry with me as well.
Maybe the idea of being rooted never made sense. We always move on. My parents did and I will likely do the same. I once joked that when I die, my ashes should be spread over the seas. If future generations want to “visit home,” they can make a shrine wherever they are and continue the tradition. If not, at least I’ll be everywhere and they can always find me.