Sibu, 0216.I spent the last ten days in Sibu, a tiny Chinese town in Sarawak. Sibu's the hometown of both my parents, where my grandparents currently reside, and where I was born prior to being whisked off some place else. While spending time with my ageing grandparents was the sole purpose for my return, it gradually became evident that Sibu was an escape from everything. Being the epitome of an 'old Chinese town', Sibu bears the obvious development lag with Chinese cultures frozen in time, and buildings so run down they're almost romantic. As a child, I always hated returning here for I couldn't rationalize why my great grandma despised my spaghetti strapped tulle dresses, why they always had to cut my long hair short (why!!!), why I had to greet all the elderly prior to leaving and entering the house, why the town was beyond dull, and how everything was so old and ugly. As I grew up and studied my ageing grandparents, I gently understood over the years that their characters were molded by the guarded society they grew up in, along with the strait-laced, unforgiving characters that plagued their lives. And when I understood it, I stopped hating it. And then I embraced it. As Chinese cultures are heavily rooted in patriarchy, my grandma solely carries the weight for everything that has to be done in the house. From making the money to pay the bills to cleaning up after the dogs; from sweeping the floor daily to making sure three meals are cooked to my grandpa's liking; from pumping air into his car tyres to bringing every mug left all over the house to the kitchen sink; from picking up the newspaper for him to queuing three hours alone for his medication twice a month while he relaxes at home. All done without any appreciation or a simple 'thank you'. And as I watch him berate her for overfrying a fish a tad and her numbing herself to the fifty years of zero appreciation, it became evident. It wasn't useless talk about a depth of love with contradicting actions, not hollow claims of love while doing everything for oneself, nor was it posting a picture to proclaim love while never bearing a thought for the other. She loves him pure and simple. Our generation is different like that. Excuse the next four photos for interjecting the black and white series. These are raw shots that I couldn't bring myself to paint black and white. The beauty of this town lies not in its rusted road pipes or grey, peeling shophouses, but in its ability to pause time and provide a refuge from everything else we've grown so jaded of. x, Annabelle.
1 Comment
Clinton
3/4/2016 11:17:38 am
This is beautiful
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AuthorAnnabelle Sue Ngieng Archives
June 2017
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