BR 315, 11.27
TPE time, somewhere above Okinawa in the Western Pacific. The end of a two week
trip to Seoul, and then Taiwan. The first few days were spent exploring a bit
of Seoul, which I must admit I enjoyed much more than I thought I would. Lots
of biking around, and explored the old royal palace by foot. There are many
things that reminded me of Taipei, especially the cityscape, and were it not
for the different Korean written script, I swear I could feel like I was in
Taipei.
What brought me
to Seoul was a two day workshop on exploring the nexus between space and
nuclear escalation. Poignant topic, especially given the heightened tensions on
the Korean Peninsula, but also some attention was directed at the Taiwan
Strait. I was invited as a legal expert, and it is really thanks to a former
student of mine that I had this opportunity to travel and speak. It really was
a prestigious opportunity, especially as it was in part hosted by the UN. It
also gave me the opportunity to meet up with two former students from six years
ago. It’s heartening to know and hear from them how much of a positive impact,
and dare I say influence, I had on their studies. As I told them, I really
didn’t do much else, and I was happy to make a little difference.
Honestly, when I
was invited over a month ago, I was
quite nervous. Why me, I thought to myself. What do I have to say or contribute
to the discussions amongst these other experts and government officials? I
remember waking up in Elliston next to B. that day just after the new year, and
being delighted initially at the prospects of an expenses paid trip to South
Korea (…and our inside terrible running joke about ttsongul). But then what
crossed my mind was whether I was capable. It took me another 10 days or so
before I had the courage to write back and accept the offer to speak.
And it went very
well. I was prepared, articulate, and could chime in the discussions and
provide (I think) good input and ideas that stimulated discussions. My former
student, who was part of the organising panel told me they really enjoyed my
company and presence. It was encouraging to hear that.
The day the
workshop ended, I headed to Taiwan. It was always my plan, as the very next day
was my birthday. The big four zero. A few months ago, I was just dreading what
I would be doing, the stars somehow aligned and this trip came, which allowed
me to plan a trip back to Taiwan. I really wanted to see my parents on the day
of my birthday, and that’s what I did, which was really unplanned and seemed
that it was meant to be.
It was not as
emotional a visit to Jinshan as I imagined it to be. Two of my cousins took a
day off from their work, and drove /accompanied me to the mountains. I think
their presence was calming and was a big help as normally I would have been
frantically running up and down, trying to wash fruits, lay out goodies and
getting ready for the offering ceremony. My cousins accompanied me to see both
mum and dad, and I stood there quietly, silently wishing, as I always do, that
they are well, and that they will watch over and bless my brother, his family,
and all our relatives… that always makes my eyes water. Even after 16 (dad) and
12 (mum) years, the emotions are still very raw. Little memories, little
moments in my mind still make the dam of my eyes break, and this intense
feeling of longing well up from deep inside.
This has been an
emotional trip. After seeing my parents, I went to stay in Tainan overnight and
biked around a bit around Anping before heading to Chiayi. What followed was
several days of nostalgia and memories.
I don’t know
what overcame me. I was so emotional and overwhelmed that everyday, I would
well up and cry. The main trigger was seeing “small” uncle on dad’s side. I
knew he was confined to a home and a wheelchair for some time, as the last time I was in Taiwan (in
November/December 2022, for “big” uncle’s funeral), small uncle was already in
a home. I wanted to go see him, but I could not as there was a COVID outbreak
on his floor, and so he was confined (this was just after Taiwan fully cleared
mandatory COVID restrictions, being one of the later countries to do so). So I
videochatted with him through LINE. He seemed aloof, not fully there.
Then throughout
the past year or so, in the family group chat, other relatives would post
pictures of his in a wheelchair, sometimes scratchy the lottery, sometimes out
somewhere (never really far), as he is now fully dependent on others for his
mobility. He gaze always looked like he was absent, not really looking into the
camera (but then again, he never really smiled or looked happy. This is worse).
When I saw him
finally, I think that broke me. I had not been in touch, or responded much to
family chats, not even reacting to photos. Seeing him, being confronted with
the reality of his situation moved me so.
He is always the
uncle I visited whenenver I want to Chiayi. The uncle who, when I was a child,
would take me out, take me to go to the train station to go train spotting, and
later, when I could ride a bike, we had a regular route of YuanFu Temple (where
grandma’s remains are put to rest), the park for 10NTD per song karaoke (later,
the Senior’s Centre, where karaoke is free). It was a regular, predictable
routine. On certain days, “big aunt” or my cousin would suggest going somewhere
further, like Beigang or the mountains for a drive or to eat something. Little
things, but over the years, they added up and are memories in my mind.
He has always
been the uncle who lived at the same address as the former ramshackle two
storied shack where grandma and grandpa raised six kids (though the house has
been built up and modernised). He was the uncle who ate almost the same things,
and lived his own life, and known for his temperaments. But he is the same
uncle who somehow of all the relatives, is close to me, and even helped me
financially to purchase furniture for my first home in Toronto.
On the first
visit, big aunt, cousin and I wheeled
uncle out to the nearby plaza of the new Chiayi Art Museum, and then we went to
have turkey rice. When we sat down and waited for our food, he took out a red
envelop with quite a bit of money. I just welled up and cried. I just couldn’t
control it. Later on, as I was saying goodbye, big aunt would also take out a
red envelop and stuff it in my hand. Making me cry again.
I don’t know
what it is. It’s love. It’s the affinity you feel with relatives, a bond that
you cannot describe but can only feel at these moments. My aunt told me later
that small uncle also has the beginnings of Parkinson’s, which explains why he
is twitching involuntarily at times (though he’s still able to hold utensils
and feed himself). She also said that a cousin, the one who comes after me,
whose father’s funeral I attended just over a year ago, apparently tried to
take advantage of our uncle’s state and steal money. Apparently, some 2mNTD is
missing, as far as they know. That adds to the pain and sadness I feel. That
cousin even tried to get our uncle to adopt him, a mere three months after his
own father passed.
What would
possess a person to do that, to just see and covet money at all costs? I
thought I found an ally, as he too is gay (and last time, I even stayed at his
house, where he lives with his partner. I don’t know if they are still
together). Now he has been, obviously, ostracised and relations have soured
bitterly. Worse thing, he is a policeman. An enforcer of the law, a public
servant, yet one that can engage in such despicable acts of malice and greed. I
don’t know if my relatives, particularly my uncle, would want to pursue this
legally, as certainly as soon as this gets out, our cousin will lose his career
and face prosecution.
I did think, a
few years ago, how nice that he seemed to be spending more time with our
uncle. And back in 2019, when uncle was
still able to walk and travel, that cousin took uncle to the US and Europe. He
later tried to use photos from that trip as evidence of how close he and our
uncle is. Perhaps he does not know that my relationship, my history with our
uncle goes back much further. And that we are much closer (even though I have
been more distant, especially in those years of the pandemic, when I was unable
to travel much).
I spent more
time with my uncle, the last time, I took him to the train station, where we
watched trains. It was as if it was meant to be, as just as we walked in, the
Alishan rail was just about to depart, and a commuter train with the “Love
Taiwan 2024” aboriginal livery (that got criticised for looking like beetle nut
spit) was parked there. We just stood (he sat in his wheelchair) on the
platform a while, and a push-pull Tse-Tsiang Express headed to Qidu pulled up,
and slowly pulled away. Neither of us said anything. But I captured that moment
on video, and I remembered something dad had said to mum, and mum later told
me, when they once went to Jinshan. As mum and dad were getting off the bus,
dad said, “When it’s time, we all have to get off”. I sent the video to big
aunt, recounting what dad had once said. Dad got off far too early.
I must have
cried more silently as I biked from relative to relative, listening to stories
being recounted, listening to how things were with dad and mum. Stories I
cherish, for for those little moments again alive in our minds and memories.
Those stories make me learn more about them, things that I no longer have a
chance to learn about or know. And that is truly beautiful.
While in Chiayi,
I stayed with ‘small’ aunt’s place, like I usually would when I am back, and
always I’m overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity shown to me. I also
visited mum’s step mum in a home, and she seems to be much better, even though
her mind is slowly slipping. She is after all 92, and has the beginnings of
dementia. She now sometimes says the strangest things, such as the fact that
she had to fly on a place from the 5th to the 3rd floor
to sleep one night, and that she couldn’t sleep as her bed was full of ants.
Also there with grandma, despite the smiles
and laughs, I deep down feel a tinge of sadness about how quickly they have
deteriorated, and perhaps soon she too will leave this world.
These things are
inevitable, of course. I know it. I know it through experience, as mum and dad
have already departed, and it has already been over a decade since. I cannot
fathom that it has been so long, and that I have also been growing older. I
think part of being so overwhelmed and triggered by the sight of my uncle, grandma and other relatives, is the
fact that I am too reminded of my own fragility and mortality. And I do wonder
sometimes, what am I doing? Is it enough what I am doing in my life?
It came to my
mind that perhaps I would like to spend a few months in Taiwan this year. Not
that I can do much. But perhaps (if my university allows it), I could be around
at least to see my uncle in particular, and just spend a bit of time with him.
Before it’s too late. Not for personal gain or because I want anything. As I
told big aunt and my cousin, I haven’t done much or spent much time with dad,
but perhaps I could do something for my uncle, as we are all relatives. He has
always been so kind to me, so generous as well, not asking for anything. What
is spending some time with him, when he is not in a good state and
deteriorating?
I know, I have
my own life to lead, my own future to plan. But if I could combine working on
my PhD and being there, just making a little difference to the quality of life
of someone dear, why not?
