All my life people would ask me, “What are you?” Honestly, what kind of question is that? I’m a human. What are you? “Where did you come from? “My mother.” I swear, people ask questions worded in the most ridiculous ways. But, I digress. What’s my ancestral background? It’s taking me a lifetime to figure out because some of it doesn’t make sense. Life is complicated… more so than I’ll ever know. I’m so grateful my parents survived through it all.
I’m Chinese but mixed mainland Chinese. Dad is Hokkien. Mom is half Hainan and half Cantonese. Do I have a Chinese name? Sure do! When I was kid, we had this project at school: What does your name mean? I didn’t have that book of names and meanings. The internet probably existed but I didn’t have access. This was pre AOL dial up era. Googling meant going to the library and searching through the library catalog for books on subject. So, who better to ask than the two people who made me. It went like this:
Me: Um, so how did you come up with my name? What does it mean?
Dad: Ask your mom. She named you.
Mom: Hmm… I don’t know. It just came to me. What does it mean? See the hanging fruit basket? It sounds pretty.
Me: You called me a fruit basket?
(Face palm)
You’re asking what I did for my project right? It’s a no brainer. I drew that gawd damn hanging fruit basket. FML. For added details… it was metal and two tier. Fancy, I know. Lina also means palm tree.
I thought I was named after Lena Horne but my parents didn’t really know who she was.
Many many many years later, Dad passed. I asked Jake to give me Dad’s life story. He’s younger than Dad so he only knew so much but he knew enough. He gave me a lifetime of information. We went down the list of all Dad’s siblings and their full names. Dad’s oldest sister then Dad then his younger sister, Le Na (Lee Nah). I looked at Mom with a WTF look. Lady! Mom said she had no idea. All her life, Mom called Dad’s little sister, Jay, which means older sister to her since she was older than Mom. Up until this glass breaking moment, all that I knew about my aunt was that she was a doctor, Dad adored her, and she died during the Khmer Rouge.
My aunt’s name was Le Na. She was newly ish married to some guy. She wasn’t just any doctor, she was a surgeon. She spoke English, French, and Cambodian. Dad put her through school as he did the rest of his younger siblings. Rumor is she studied abroad. She studied and worked amongst French and English doctors. I heard she was a good doctor. Mom only had a few meetings with her so she really couldn’t speak about her. Dad never talked about her. What I know of her is from Jake. I wish I knew more.
When the Khmer Rouge took over, fear swept the country. Everyone knew what they were about and you were either with them or getting the fuck away asap. The Khmer Rouge were all about self sustainability. Basically everyone farms the shit out of the land and they don’t need help from any outsiders. If you didn’t read any of my previous posts, well, the gist of the Khmer Rouge is, if you don’t agree with them, you die. Or, you run.
Word spread fast that the Khmer Rouge were evacuating everyone into the country. It was 1974 and Olympic Market just got bombed. Dad was in Ream. Mom was on her way back to Ream from Phnom Penh. My aunt, however, was still in the city (Phnom Penh). They told her to run. It was dangerous. My aunt is educated, a surgeon. She’s a threat to the Khmer Rouge. They don’t like people like her. A lot of bombings started. One of the bombs killed my mom’s uncle, my cousins’ from Vietnam’s grandfather, my grandfather’s older brother.
From Koh Ta Kiev, Dad escaped to Thailand with his mom, youngest brother and his two friends’ kids. Mom escaped soon after, both on a boat. They eventually end up at a refugee camp in the Khlong Yai District. Dad would take his boat looking for his siblings at every camp he could find. He would talk to everyone for any word about his family and the two kids’ families. After a few weeks, he would find Jake in Trat.
After so many weeks, I’m not really sure how long it took but Dad finally got word about my Suy Gau or younger aunt. Rumor had it, she went back to her home and waited for her husband to come so they could escape together. Her husband never came back home. The Khmer Rouge found her. My guess is she refused to “escape” to the countryside to be forced into slave labor so they shot her. Her husband supposedly is still alive living in Cambodia somewhere with his second wife and family.
Dad never talked about his Moy Moy or little sister. I was told they were close. They would walk around shopping and such with his arm around her shoulder. I can see him smiling too. This isn’t normal pda. Asians are super conservative meaning no touching the opposite sex. I think it broke Dad’s heart that he couldn’t save her so he couldn’t ever talk about her. There was just one time during my life that all Dad’s siblings were at the house visiting. My brother and I snuck part way down the stairs and we saw them all crying. They were speaking in Cambodian so we couldn’t understand anything. It was the first time I ever saw Dad cry. The second and last time was when I told him to open his eyes, so I physically opened his eyes and he cried because he couldn’t see me after he had that big stroke. That was a week before he passed.
There was one period of time that Dad’s mom moved in with us. She had Alzheimer’s so she didn’t know where she was half the time. I remember at one point, I just came home and everyone was eating dinner. She looked at me and said something really nice in Cambodian. She told Dad that I was the best one. Now seeing everything and putting pieces together, I really do think she meant my aunt. I’m pretty convinced she was. My grandmother didn’t think too much about me nor did she know me very well.
I can’t tell you why Dad never told me that his Moy Moy’s name was Le Na. I can’t rationalize why he never told me more about her. I really wish I knew how she was and what she was like. He told me once she was a doctor and he was proud when he said it. I know why he didn’t tell Mom about her name. Mom is superstitious and naming a baby after a deceased person is either bad luck or bad karma. Maybe it was his way of having her live a life he didn’t get to see her live? Hopefully they’re catching up in the after life.
I love the meaning of names. Mom said my name came to her in her sleep once. It only took most of my life to confirm I’m not a fucking hanging fruit basket.
Family History Unknown 