There’s a large displacement between myself and my ethnic background. I’m chinese, though I can’t speak or understand any chinese what so ever. This family doesn’t do much in way of the culture- visit the cemetery, have chopsticks in the kitchen drawers, eat chinese takeout and perhaps cook chinese food once in a while (though not very much at all). So as you probably may know I don’t really associate myself with a lot of that to do with being chinese.
Couple years back I went around China to indulge in a little cultural history- where i’m from, where my grandparents lived (a village in Guangzhou) and how I came to New Zealand. Well, actually not so much the last bit- seeing as I was born here, but how my Grandparents made their way over there.
My grandparents were caught in the middle of the Mao/Japanese invasion- separated between Hong Kong and Guangzhou/China. I’m unsure of the story exactly.. but I do know it involves escaping on a train, a man getting shot for helping them and eventually making it to New Zealand. If I were a better story teller, or knew the facts I would elaborate.. just know that it was a difficult time.
These photos are rough at best. They’re of what was the house my grandparents used to live in before leaving the village, and of the village itself (which was known for making denim!). Though it was a while ago since i’ve been there, I do remember how.. eerie the place is. It is mostly the elderly and infants, as everyone in between has either gone off to school or work- there’s definitely a sense of (dare I say) death floating around. Feels rather haunted..