Xiamen, A Trip Down Memory Lane. Part 2: The House

History had always been one of my favourite subjects back in my schooling days. I was always mesmerized by stories of war, heroism, discovery and so on. Hence, I was always very interested to know more about my family history. In my younger days, I would always enjoy the trips to my grandfather's office, situated right along the banks of the Malacca river. Standing by the bank of the river, I always imagined how life used to be back in the olden days, trying to relive the past. I have heard so much from the elders of how children used to jump from the top of the bridge that connected the two opposing banks into the river for a swim, how fishermen used to unload their bowels right into the river from a hut by the bank, how there used to be rice stacked up high until the ceiling during the rice trading days, watched upon by pythons and monitor lizards that kept rodents away. That was a small part of my family history, I yearned to know more. As such, being privileged enough to be able to travel to the village where my ancestors lived for many generations had given me a small glimpse into my family history.

Above: The path leading up to the house. Once made of mud and fecal material from all sorts of farm animals but now laid with concrete.

Main door: Through the door, one would enter an open air courtyard. Two smaller doors by both sides of the building can also be used as access into the house.

Of the three trips I have made back to the ancestral village, twice have I had the opportunity to stay in the house that my great grandfather built. The sad truth is, due to China's increasing wealth and ever-increasing economic growth, the house gets increasingly empty. The number of people that live in the house today can be counted by the fingers on one hand as opposed to how it used to be many years ago during my first visit, and none of the residents are getting any younger. Back when I was younger, I knew that some of my elders and Chinese relatives lived in the house but I did not yet know that my great grandfather built it. It was like a huge playhouse for me and my cousins when we were kids, beside the house lived a cow that we fed, ducks and chickens walked around freely outside the house, there were also guinea pigs bred for food, of which the idea horrified us slightly.

Above: Facing the main door, this will be the left side of the building where there was once a small "barn" that housed guinea pigs for food. The toilet was also situated here.

Above: Facing the main door, this will be the right side of the building where once a cow lived.

Courtyard of memories: Entering the main door, one would see a square-shaped open air courtyard.

Air well: View of air well from the ground floor.

Air well: From the first floor.

Ancestral shrine: Located on the first floor.

Naked bulbs: Most rooms have a single
one of these, accentuates the already
creepy atmosphere.

The house was a large, imposing structure. Not aesthetically pleasing architecturally to most eyes. Entering the main door, there was a small open air courtyard where we used to play with our food, in the form of guinea pigs. Adjacent to the house was a small structure that housed the toilet and near it, the kitchen. The structure is 3 storeys tall, 22 rooms altogether, of which most are located on the first level. Access to the upper levels is through two staircases that can barely fit two people side by side. While there were fun times, the age of the house was apparent, and late into the night can appear extremely claustrophobic, adding to that, it had a very creepy atmosphere. We dreaded going to the toilet late into the night, the hallways lit by naked bulbs and on the walls hung photos of ancestors that have left the world, we had to pass by the ancestral shrine and we always had the feeling of being watched. Of course, a house of this age would have its fair share of ghost stories, of which we would share amongst ourselves quietly. Most of the rooms had squeaky, rusty iron or wooden beds. Ventilation is in the form of a window, as fans and air conditioners were non-existent. Of course, to cap it off, a single naked bulb hung from the ceiling to light up each room.

Claustrophobic staircases: Narrow staircases that can barely fit two normal sized adults side by side lead to the upper levels of the house. 

Almost a bird's eye view: A view of the village from roof.

The new and the old: Satellite dishes line the roofs of buildings everywhere in the village. A symbol of the electronic age and the changing times.

Going up a level to the second and topmost level, one would reach a small room with a huge open air roof where we used to play with the piles and piles of firecrackers and fireworks that we bought from the nearby convenience store.

Antiquity: Who knows who slept on this wooden bed, said to be more than a century old.

Much had changed around the house, on my first trip, the house was surrounded by dirt. Walking down the path that led to the house, there was a mudpit where geese would gather, soaking their big white bodies with mud. Today, the geese, along with the resident cow and other livestock are gone. The structure that used to house the toilet is gone too. Dirt trails are replaced by concrete trails and more and more new buildings are starting to rise around the house.

The cow-shed: I was told that my great grandmother gave birth to my grandfather in this very structure. Now overgrown with foliage and suffering structural damage. A prominent part of the family history fading away.

A glimpse into the past: A look through the window into the building where my very grandfather came into the world.

Nearby, traces of history are still everywhere. Parts of the surrounding village still made me feel as if time was frozen. Ancient rocky steps and old houses, including a rocky hut that supposedly was where my grandfather was born. It was until recently used as a cow-shed until the structure gave way and the roof collapsed.