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?
