My father was born in 1900 in China, Meixian, of Hakka ancestry, thus he was raised when the last Empress Dowager Cixi was still ruling China. I do not know much about his early life but I guess that he was doing not so bad if he had been able to receive a good education. What prompted him and my mother to leave China to immigrate to Mauritius was probably, like any parent in the world, to provide a better future for their children.
Meixian is located in Meizhou, North East of Guangdong Province
China in the first half of the twentieth century was not a good place to live, much less to raise a family. It was a chaotic and lawless era, warlords fighting warlords, the Communists fighting the Nationalists and Japan interfering in China. So those who could leave immigrated overseas. Why chose Mauritius! This is a good question. My father had an elder brother who was already in Mauritius, he in turn would have known somebody there before him. The first Chinese settlers, mainly Cantonese speaking, arrived in Mauritius circa 1780, from Canton Province but gradually overtaken by Hakka immigrants from Meixian.
I believe my parents took a boat from Hong Kong, because my father told us an anecdote about Hong Kong. When he was there in a restaurant the waitress sat on his lap and fed him peanuts as part of the establishment’s service, a very bold concept to the traditional Chinese culture. This was how advanced and liberal Hong Kong was.
My father’s first job in Mauritius was teaching at the Chinese Middle School (Sin-Hwa) which was established in 1912, a pro-Communist school at Dr. Joseph Riviere Street. A second Chinese middle school (Chung-Hwa) was later established in 1941 by the Kuomintang, a pro-Nationalist school at Remy Ollier Street. The Communist and The Kuomintang were arch enemies in China, their conflict sometimes spilled at the two schools, particularly during their respective National Day, October 1st and October 10th.
Mao Zedong the Leader of the Communist Party in China
Chiang Kai-Shek Leader of the Kuomingtang Party, arch enemy of the Communists.
The entrance to the Chinese Middle School (Sin-Hwa), still stands intact as it was at least since 1950s
I do not know the year my parents moved to Mauritius but they must be a young couple then because all the children were born in Mauritius. When I started to remember thing, around age six or seven, my father was no longer a teacher. I do not know the reason why he quitted the School. He must have been unhappy with the school politics as he opened his own Chinese school for a brief period near Saint Croix. Afterward he worked as manager of a Chinese business club on Desforges Street near Dr. Joseph Riviere Street. He lived at the Club rather than at our boutique at Aleppo Street. My brothers, my sisters and I visited our father often. We had a few friends there. We also visited our eldest sister’s place just round the block.
Desforges Street 1950s where the Chinese Club was located, not too far from the Town Hall
My recollection of the Club was that my father was pretty busy attending to the demand of club members, and I remember he was allowed to run a side business selling soft drink, beer and snacks to Club members. I sometimes assisted in serving the members. My father loved “Ceylon” tea with condensed milk, and he always made some for us. Indians were famous for their special brew Ceylon tea and occasionally we went to their tea shops to enjoy their tea and delicious pastries.
The tea stall that I knew in 1950s Mauritius will look like this tea stall in India
My father was easy going, rarely screamed at us, much less caned us, a normal form of punishment to most kids then. The only time my father hit me and my brother was when we accidentally shot a self made bamboo arrow at a grown up. Then it was a mild whack on the hand with a ruler, more for show and symbolic than to really inflict pain on us. He rarely complained, got angry or showed displeasure but he was disciplined and well organized and cared for us. When we kids misbehaved or not listening, he knocked our head with his knuckles, a common and traditional Chinese show of authority, that was the extent of his disciplinary action. My best recollection of him was when he held my hand and walked me to my first day at school, and while waiting for the gate to open he bought me a treat from an old Indian lady. I always remember and cherish that moment.
My father had a deep appreciation of Indian culture, so he particularly liked to watch Indian movies at “Rex” and “Luna Park” cinemas. Very often he brought me along and I also fell for Indian movies which centred on good guys fighting bad guys and good Gods fighting evil Gods, dramatized by lively music and songs.
A renovated “Rex” cinema on Desforges Street, Port Louis, where my father and I watched many Indian movies.
One day my father collapsed at the Club probably due to hard work and inadequate diet. My second eldest brother, by miracle, happened to pass by the Club, found our father on the floor and quickly seek help. In a way he saved our father. My father went through surgery and was hospitalized at Moka Hospital for several months. We were grateful to our brother-in-law who arranged for everything, and every Sunday he drove us in his Austin to spend time with our dad. I loved Moka for its serenity, fresh air, open space and the colourful flamboyant trees.
Moka in the 1970s unchanged from 1950s, serene, refreshing, colourful.
My late brother-in-law posing by his Austin or Morris. He drove us a lot in this car. I think it was me and my niece on the balcony.
After recovery my father quitted his job at the Club and returned to live with us at the boutique. Although I was small, I felt quite happy that we were now together as a family. We did not need or rather we could not afford an extra hand at the boutique, so my father took up a job with a prominent Chinese firm, Lai Fat Fur & Company. My father was one of several people looking after Mr. Lai’s warehouse on Jummah Mosque Street. His work was demanding and when he came home he was so exhausted that he often fell asleep on the bed. Watching him, I felt a pinch of sadness in my heart and I would quietly remove his shoes so that he could nap more comfortably.
Most Sunday morning we did some house cleaning, the most important task was to eliminate the bed bugs that lived in the cracks of the wooden planks of our beds. The bed bugs lived exclusively on human blood and every night they came out to bite us. When I caught and squashed them a pool of my own blood splashed on my finger. My father would stand each plank straight up and bang one end on the stone floor several times until the bugs fell off from their hideouts, the bugs knew they were in trouble and stampeded in all directions. The kids’ jobs were to trample on them with our fingers or feet. In the afternoon the whole family would walk to our uncle’s place at Champs de Mars, he had a big home with a large backyard with vines of green grapes. Including the family of a second visiting uncle, we were talking of ten adults and twenty kids. These were great quality time we spent with our parents, uncles and cousins.
My daughter and grand-daughter today would have a fit just looking at the bed bugs. We lived with them.
My father, apart from being well educated, was also talented in playing musical instruments. One day he bought a Chinese guitar “Yueqin” and a Chinese Bamboo flute “Dizi”, and taught us how to play. At age seven or eight, I was able to play both instruments.
The Chinese guitar “Yueqin” my father taught us to play.
The Chinese bamboo flute my father taught us to play.
My father was a kind person, had no enemy and treated everybody with respect. One day one of my brother-in-laws, troubled by the politics at his workplace, asked my father’s advice and guidance. He replied: “Don’t worry, Heaven will take care of the bad guys.” My father was well known in Mauritius as a respected Chinese teacher, and as was common, every time an adult met a young Chinese boy or girl, they would ask: “What is the name of your father”. When I told them my father’s name, their face beamed with a smile and replied: “Your father was my Chinese teacher”, this was enough to pump joy and pride into my heart.