Your grandmother’s mother, my wai-po, is a pack rat. I parked in her garage twice a week during the semester I studied at your grandmother’s alma mater, the University of Sydney, and it’s a high-agility parking job, because what should fit two small cars only just barely fits one, and when you drive in, the guiding principle is stop when you hit something.
Right around the end of the war, or, depending on which war, right before the beginning, Wai-po left China to marry Wai-gong in -Indonesia. Wai-po was her mother’s only daughter, all of sixteen when they said goodbye, knowing they would probably never see each other again.
They wrote each other letters, Wai-po and her mother. Wai-po sent money back to China, really sent it – gave it to someone in Indonesia who took it on a boat or a plane and got to China and handed it... Read more
To access the full text version of this article, login if you are a subscriber.
Subscribe to Griffith REVIEW or purchase the edition in our Online Store.