fifty viss

My grandfather’s house has an immense collection of Buddha statues, extending throughout the entire length of the living room. The most interesting Buddha in the three altars is one in a bottle. It is amazing how the artisan managed to put the elaborate altar, details like the disciples and flower vases inside the bottle, but what is even more amazing is its history.

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My aunt and uncle returned from Burma today, bringing with them pounds and pounds of Burmese delectables from friends and relatives living in Burma. My mother got her share of goods and letters from her friends and family. I cannot wait to enjoy all of this, including the la phet (pickled tea leaves) and zi cho (preserved fruit).

Socialism is harsh, as is modernization. I will attempt to tie together the story of my grandparents and their lives and Burma’s history, the effects of socialism, and today’s modernization.

Left: My grandparents wed in the 1940s in Rangoon. Right: My grandfather’s businesses hit success in the 1950s.

Both my grandparents from my father’s side were born to upper-class families in colonial Burma. My grandfather is mixed Burman and Chinese, while my grandmother is Chinese. Their ancestors immigrated to Burma from Fujian Province in the 1800s via Penang, Malaysia. They married in the 1940s, near the end of British rule in a European ceremony. After independence of Burma in 1948, my grandparents, who had mostly spoken Chinese (Hokkien) at home, began adopting Burman customs, including wearing traditional Burman dress, to avoid harassment from any nationalist Burmans.

My grandfather’s rice processing plant, the first electric-powered one in Burma. All the machinery still exists, but is no longer used.

My grandfather bought land in the 1950s, and operated an peanut oil refinery and a rice processing plant in Nyaunglaybin in Pegu Division, and the entire family moved there. They sent most of my aunts and uncles to Chinese-language boarding school in China, and later in Rangoon.

Left: When my grandparents owned it, the modern tile-paneling did not exist, and the house was not used as a shop. Middle: The house has degraded, and has no lighting inside. Right: The Buddhist altar my grandparents bought in the 1950s is still used.

However, in 1962, Ne Win’s socialist regime took over. The “Burmese Way to Socialism” was implemented, and forced all Chinese schools to be put under government control. Slowly, my family felt the effects of this. My grandfather lost control of his factories and refineries under Socialist nationalization, and life became tough. My father, who is the youngest son, attended a monastery school in Nyaunglaybin, learning Burmese, unlike his elder brothers, who continued to attend school in Rangoon, learning English, Mandarin, and Burmese. To this day, my father is only semi-fluent in Hokkien and does not know Mandarin, while his older siblings can carry a conversation in Hokkien and Mandarin flawlessly.

However, by the late 1960s, life became too difficult in Nyaunglaybin. Because of socialist takeover and nationalization, my grandfather’s income had diminished. My grandmother sold all of her jewelry and the remaining family moved to Rangoon, in hopes of finding prosperity and opportunity. They bought an apartment flat overlooking Mahabandoola Garden. Compared to the country house they had lived in, it was small and cramped. My grandfather bought a small convenience store to make a living. My father graduated from Rangoon University in the late 1970s, denied entrance to medical school because his nationality was “Chinese”. In the late 1960s to 1970s, the government incited riots against the “outsider” Chinese and Indians. After my grandfather’s shop was completely torched, the family immigrated to the United States in 1978, leaving behind their homeland for the last time.

Last year, my father visited Burma for the first time in 33 years. He visited his family’s old factories and houses in the countryside and his city home in Rangoon. The building is owned by a Burmese Muslim, of Asia Naple Co. Ltd. We arrived early in the morning and asked a young office worker if we could see my father’s old house. He kindly opened up the abandoned building for us, but told us not to take any photographs inside. The inside was beautiful, albeit dusty. It had a nostalgic colonial feel, high ceilings, large open rooms, and waxed teak-wood floors. My father went later in the day to speak to the owner about taking video of his old house, but the owner rejected his appeals.

A year later, I don’t know if my father’s old house still exists. It may have been razed for construction of a blasphemous hi-rise building called Centrepoint Towers, or may be demolished soon. The Burmese government is all too keen on “modernizing” Burma by destroying colonial buildings, which are historical relics that show Rangoon’s heritage. I am saddened by their carelessness–countless buildings have been destroyed to build nondescript hi-rises that are completely vacant anyhow (like the Sakura Tower, built by Petronas).

Maybe one day, when a democratic government that cares about the country’s historical heritage emerges will these buildings be preserved for future individuals to enjoy and reminisce. Sometimes, hi-rises are not the best indicators of a country’s overall prosperity. They indicate decay of history, a loss of legacy. There is nothing I can do now, except rely on my memories to imagine how my family once lived.

Boba, a tea beverage that originated in Taiwan, is made of milk tea and black tapioca “balls”. It is utterly addictive, even though I don’t really know why. It’s personally better-tasting than Starbucks coffee. Yesterday I went to the South Coast Plaza, which is a gigantic mall with uppercrust shops, too sophisticated and expensive for my tastes. The only item I bought in the entire mall was a venti cup o’ joe from Starbucks, peppermint-flavored. Actually, two, one peppermint and one double chocolate. Starbucks is overrated. Its coffee isn’t even that good-tasting–I prefer 7-Eleven coffee, which is far cheaper.

Then I came home. Since my aunt and uncle are going back to Burma tomorrow, my mom wanted to give ang-pao (red envelopes) to her friends and relatives in Rangoon, with $100 bills (probably 5 months of the average Burmese person’s wages) neatly packed inside greeting cards and letters. I had to laboriously type letters in Burmese on the computer, which took a while.  One of the letters is written to Hsaya (name withheld), who was a high school teacher to my mom. It’s amazing how much respect Burmese people give to their teachers. I’ve seen videos of hsaya gadaw, the worship of teachers to show one’s respect. My uncle participates in this annually, packing up and going back to Rangoon to do so. It’s such a stark contrast to typical Americans, who are ill-mannered towards teachers and rarely give them much respect. I guess it’s because the school system is based on the factory system, according to my European History teacher. Hmm…

And on one last note, I have a complaint to make to WordPress.com. Even though I deleted my other blog, whenever I leave comments, the deleted blog is still linked as my “website” automatically. And, for some strange reason, on Mozilla Firefox, I have to refesh once to see my new blog in the blue menu bar on WordPress pages. It’s an extra hassle that irritates me.

This will be the one. I have hopped around too long, without staying dedicated to one thing, which in this case, is blogging. I’ve been on Xanga, Livejournal, on and off. But that will end, with this blog. Hopefully.

Aside from that, I keep on reminiscing on the wonderful trip I had last year around this time.

It seems like just yesterday that I was in Burma. Actually, exactly one year since I took this photo. I miss the country, the people, the aromas, and the sights. Especially the food and my parents’ friends. Unfortunately, I’m stuck in America, with nothing interesting to do each day, except watch country bumpkins or ghetto gangsters address their infidelities on the Maury Show (too bad I don’t have cable) or sleep.

But at least I did something slightly interesting this week. My aunt called me up so her family and I could feed the ducks at a local park. Quite interesting to see an array of bird species, all enjoying Chinese bread and popcorn. The park would have been nice if it weren’t for the ongoing construction and the orange tape all across the pond.

It’s two-o-clock now, just about the usual time I go to sleep during school. I will blog each day over the Christmas break. Create a habit, a pattern. Haha.