There is a reason why I am blogging about this topic today. Let me elaborate on the various aspects of the whole story first, until the twist to the whole story that I will reveal at the end.
I belong to a specific dialect group that originates from the island of Hainan in China. In ancient China, it was considered the end of the world because it was the southern-most tip of the empire, separated by the ocean. It takes a long time to reach the location and if an emperor/king dislikes you, he may banish you to the end of the world ie. Hainan.
In Spore, the Hainan dialect group were the last dialect group to land on its shores. Most of the other groups already had a foothold in specific industries and were bringing in their own village people by then. There was only one sector that was still available as no one wanted to do it as they considered it low class. It was to serve the British expatriate community. Hainanese became known as butlers and cooks, entering the service industry in British homes or as cooks in ships. When the British left, most had to branch off to the F&B sector and that is why most restaurants usually have a Hainanese cook in the kitchen.
The reason that I am blogging about this topic now was due to a dinner gathering of Hainan “brudders” we had on Thursday evening this week. I had attended a Blockchain course in Seoul a few weeks ago. On the 3rd and last day of training, we discovered that the class of 37 had 5 Hainanese amongst us. This was an unusually high number (14%) and we immediately clicked. We created a new WhatsApp chat group and promised to catch up again once we are back in S’pore. The most enthusiastic member of this group arranged for group dinner at a restaurant serving authentic Hainan influenced cuisine called the British Hainan (how appropriate!).
The dinner started off with everyone trying to get to know each other better. With the addition of beer, all of us soon got into the swing of things. The restaurant owner was a blue-blooded Hainan “Ah Koh” and he was telling us his stories while belting out evergreen hits on his karaoke machine. The dinner organizer was also telling us of his experiences on how fellow Hainanese he met in his travels will immediately offer assistance and support once they hear the unifying dialect being spoken. Amazing and I totally agree…
We had 3 hours of fun eating food that reminded us of our childhood times and what grandmom used to make for us. Herbal mutton soup, oxtail stew and lamb shank etc. So many memories flooding back. We agree to meet again and also to explore possible opportunities, be it for business or for charity. The dinner left me with a warm heartfelt afterglow that night.
My dad travels to Hainan for visits quite regularly. He goes back to his hometown, catches up with everyone while seating by the coffee shop at the main road of the small village, watching the world go by. My brother in law has also been organizing a medical trip to the island for the last 10 years to provide pro bono treatment of cleft lip operations to kids with a group of doctor and nurses called Project Smile.
My first visit there was around 1990, shortly after I started work. There was a global Hainan conference being held in Haikou, the capital of Hainan island. I discovered that there were many delegations from all over the world that was represented there. There were the S’pore and Malaysia groups as well and one from Thailand. Again the unifying language was Hainanese while everyone’s main mother tongue may be very different. The Thais were the richest group and contributed a lot of funds for the welfare of the motherland.
In that trip, my late aunt (dad’s older sister) proudly told me that she was spearheading the project to raise funds to build a new bridge in our village. She would visit her old school with her former classmate, now both old ladies, and walking hand in hand through the school compound reminiscing on what they did as little school girls many years ago.
My grandfather left Hainan to seek business opportunities in S’pore with my grandmother in the 1920-30s. My dad was born in S’pore in 1929. As they had made enough money, they decided to return to Hainan island soon after. But as fate would have it, World War 2 started. The central part of Hainan where our village was located experienced hardship and famine. And so my grandparents decided to return to S’pore and stay for good.
I often joked with my good friends that if it was not for WWII, I would have been a farmer in China now, instead of having the great opportunity to experience the fantastic growth of S’pore over the last 50 years.
I never knew why my dad was so emotionally attached to Hainan, even though technically, he only spent a few of his teenage years there. As he hits 90 this year, that emotion is more apparent. Just this morning, he called to ask me if I wanted to accompany him back in Nov. It must also have to do with age, I guess.
Many years also, my late aunt told me of a story which shocked me. It is starting to make more sense to me now as I realize the effect it had on my dad. My grandfather married a second wife and eventually abandoned my grandmother and her 2 kids (my aunt and dad). Apparently, he wanted a son and in a desperate attempt to please him, my grandmother adopted a boy instead. That did not work out and he left them anyway for the new family.
That boy was my dad. He was born in S’pore and was brough into a Hainan culture. My grandmom worked hard to support the family and eventually adopted another boy (my late uncle) as a favour to another family back home as they were running away from China, back to S’pore. As money was tight then, my dad had to stop his studies at secondary two to help support the family. He would have gone far if he had the ability to study further as he had a quick mind and was good with numbers.
I could now see the reason for his immersion into Hainan heritage. He never had Hainan blood in him but yet a Hainan family brought him into their world and call him as one of their own. It must have left a deep and lasting impact on him. I get it that as he ages, he is seeking to experience his roots even deeper, to yearn to touch base with the childhood village, even if the actual lineage is not there.
His call to me this morning compels me to join him for the next trip this Nov. As a dutiful son, I should spend more time with him, to sit beside him to listen to his stories and chats with fellow villagers in our hometown.
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