MY MOM passed away a week ago. When we brought her ashes home before the weekend, we followed a Chinese tradition of carrying the deceased relative for one last journey to the places she had stayed in her life. This was similar to the funeral march in Zhang Yimou’s The Road Home.
What is peculiar for my 73-year old mom was that she rarely left home for some reasons in the past 30 years. If she could have been really here, she could see how much had changed in this Davao Chinese community.
The first place we took Mom’s ashes in our ride was to the old Davao Christian High School, which was in Garcia Heights. She and other young Chinese women, who were either college graduates or undergraduates, were recruited to teach Chinese language in the late 1960s. That old school is already replaced by the Davao Alliance Bible College. Peeking inside, the old wooden school buildings where I and my ate spent our elementary and early high school years are already replaced.
We passed by her alma mater Davao Chong Hua (Central) High School. The old football field was replaced by school buildings and the place cramped by Gaisano Mall.
We went around Davao Chinatown, to the first two stores of my father, in Magsaysay and Alvarez, which were both burned down within six years. Any trader would not recover from such loss, but my dad worked hard, recovered and paid all that he owed to businessmen who were kind and respected dad. One kuya said that when our store was in Magsaysay near the park in the 90s, the place was alive. That was before we left in 1999 after dad’s passing away, as China surplus stores took over that spot.
We also went by Monteverde, to the three spots where our family store once relocated. Since dad passed away twenty years ago, business was up and down because of inflation and bad economy. This also had to force my sister to transfer the store where the rent was and the location were good.
We also went around the first apartment my mom and dad stayed in Lapu-Lapu Street, and in the old house. There were memories about how we learned Chinese Mandarin from Chinese Embassy neighbors, and an American neighbor with a big pool where we fancy we could swim on. These were memories that I had forgotten through the years. I realized people think that Fil-Chinese are well-off. But in our case, there were ups and downs. In this trip, mom seemed to make me think how my family persevered and made it through. And it’s a trip that made me see this Davao Chinatown was built by families like ours who helped shaped the local economy and the Davao Chinese community. How these families led simple lives and pursuits.
These are my parents’ memories rekindled on our road home.
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