Some things...

Newspaper wrapped, lined with transparent plastic tau pau of steaming hot “pak kut wong” (pork ribs)
As a “siew yeh” (supper)

A man, dressed in the white thin singlet and black shorts; coming back at night, asking his children “lei sek” (come and eat) as the small kids hurriedly unfold the wooden brown chairs and crowd round him.

He unfolds the precious bounty. Their eyes light up.

“Lou po, lei sek” he calls out excitedly.

The mother comes out .

She lunges at him and hits him with tears streaming down her face.
“I told you to stop gambling. Why are you gambling again? Why? Why?”

(Obviously I don’t know how to type the rest in Romanized Cantonese without massacring the correct pronunciation)

He shields his arms to soften the blows.

“I didn’t gamble. I promise.” He shouts above the din.

“How did you get the money to buy this? Don’t lie” she shrieks, heartbroken.

“I sold my blood.”


.....


I no longer remember what movie this scene was from. Must have been one of those Cantonese dramas screened over TV2 (ha, so old).

But this scene is still vivid in the head.

So is the memory watching the next table in a hot crowded coffee shop; the middle aged father picking up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks from his plate and placing it at his teenage son’s.

Or the childhood memories of carefully wrapping candy from a party in tissue paper; to be shared with sisters later back home.

How grandmothers or grandfathers who aren’t “western” enough to say “I love you” but lug packets and packets of food whenever they visit.