| Hello and Goodbye |
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By Catherine Little York, Ontario From childhood my memories are of stories told in a strange mixture of Indian dialects, Hakka and English that was only understandable to our immediate community. We would choose the word that fit based on the meaning we intended. Pretty soon, it was a seamless secret language spoken by those of us of Chinese descent, born in India, and immigrants to Canada. Throughout the years English started to dominate and our language lost a depth of meaning that was difficult to recapture. Mom and dad had retained their ability to flit from one word to another but my brothers and sister and I had lost much of this ability because of our desire to fit in. Now, perfectly fluent in English and without a trace of an accent we had lost the ability to use colourful phrases with conviction. We had also lost access to our grandmothers - a vital link to our past. Still, elders were to be respected and after the engagement dinner I had to call my grandmother to explain. “Hsueh- Lin,” she had said and then went on to ask in Chinese, “Why can’t you marry someone from your own world?” I was able to understand my grandmother’s question and all of the pain and anguish that went along with it but how could I answer in my baby talking? How could I explain that I would be lost in a traditional family? How could I tell her that I needed to be with someone who had read the same books that I had read and watched the same movies? How could she understand that I could not fit into her world although she had taught me to cook our food? So I said, “I love him”. It was one of the few Chinese phrases I could think of at the time, as foreign to her as my need for an equal partnership in marriage. Love had little to do with anything in her world. There was tradition and pride and honour that combined to make different kinds of love but not the kind I was talking about. It was the second longest five minutes of my life – second only to explaining to my mother and father. Now, almost fifteen years into marriage with a son born of both worlds, it seems a lifetime away. It has been a testimony to building bridges, of respect for the old and respect for the new. It has meant embracing the future while respecting the past. Background InformationMy short piece describes what it was like to announce my engagement to a Caucasian man. My family had always hoped that I would marry within my community and it was a shock to them when I married outside of it. I am the daughter of immigrants to Canada. My father, a tool and die maker, was able to immigrate to Canada in the early 1970s. He left a wife and two children behind in Calcutta in search of a new life. When he had established himself by buying a condominium and sent for his family. As a result, I was born and spent the first four years of my life India and then was raised and educated in Toronto, Ontario Canada. |
