An uncle with a surname

We have an aunt that separated from her husband long ago. I was only a couple-year-old, few years before Bro was born. I don't remember seeing that uncle of mine. Later, she met a new man in her life. They never got married. Just living together.

This man, is our new uncle.

My parents and friends call him by his surname. We, Chinese are so used to add an "Ah" at the front of names. And that's how people call him.

The first time I saw him, my parents were at my aunt's flat to dropped something off. We were in Father's beige, carburetor-ed Datsun. My uncle just got back from work. He came by, and said hi. I was told, this is yi jiong, and Mother asked me to greet him.

Mother's elder sisters are called yi mah. The husband, yi jiong.

"Oh! Yi jiong!"



I never remember the term "yi jiong". It is unfamiliar to me. I've been hearing people called him differently. And that is what I supposed to call him too, I thought.

The next time we were there, I greeted everyone as I was taught. I then saw him. With high spiritual attitude, and manners I thought would make my parents proud, I greeted him.



"Ah Surname!"



Mother knocked on my head. Father told me off.

He defended me. That doesn't bother him. Ever since, my parents always reminded me to call him properly. I still ended up calling his surname. Up to a point, he told them to let it be.

As we were getting closer, I call him Surname Surname.

No matter how open-minded a person is, it is still not right to call your elders by the name. I tried calling him yi jiong a number of times. I can't – it sounded really, really weird. I guess he felt the same too. We were so used to the "improper" way.

When Bro learn to speak, he was taught the same.

We still call him that, even up to now.

July, year 3

Mother held me in one arm.

Holding a small air tight jar in another.

I looked on to her. Then the jar.

I heard clicks.

The sudden blast of lights blinded my eyes.


I was barely two. That's the closest my memory could bring.
We appeared on what seems to be a product shot in a photo printout, or an A5 flyer. We were the talents for the Brand's Essence of Chicken.

You want to see it, don't you?



I grew up looking at it. Every day, every year. Mother pasted it on Father's cupboard in the storeroom (it's my room now). I never knew the "importance" of it. I'm a talent even before I know what's advertising. That's a valuable piece, at least for me.

Paper breaks apart when its exposed to the environment for years. We did a major spring cleaning and threw the leftover bits away. What's left is the now-antiqued mahogany cupboard, and unpeelable weathered stickers from the late-hippies era, deeply engraved into the wood grains.

Few years ago, it came back into my mind. It was during Mother's Day and her birthday. It could be a very special gift to her. I emailed Brand's regarding the flyer. Hoping for just a single word from them.

But to no avail.



Mother's birthday is coming near. I've drafted the email to be sent to Brand's again. And hopefully, I could hear from them this time. I also sent out my message to some people in the industry. Hoping that few would know the ad veterans back then.

Thirty years is a very long time. The agency that handles the account might have closed shop. The printer might have disposed the materials already. Maybe not even the printing plates or negatives.

I will keep trying.

To many, it's a no biggie appearing in a piece of paper. But to me, it means a whole lot more. It's a reminiscence of Mother and me. Something that can't be bought by money and time.

Something, that can't be replaced.



This will the third year in the searching.



-----



Mail sent. No words. Guess I should make a stroll at the factory.

Edited 15.8.11, 3:56am

The painful hour

"Uncle, I miss you all. Tell Mama and Koko too."



Reading that, I held on as hard as I could. Not to burst a tear.

Sis texted Father earlier. She then called, weeping. Begging us to let her come back. The hardest part is lying to her that she is not our responsibility anymore. To us, she still is. Not the same like before, but in a more abstract manner. It's not up to us to decide now.

I woke up at 10, after a 3-hour doze. Everyone's awake. Preparing to send her off later in the noon. Bro left for work earlier. For almost an hour when I'm still in the house, I didn't say a word. Didn't even look her in the eyes. I was pretending the whole time that I didn't care. I hurried myself, and left to work.

That was one of the most painful time I had in years.

Closing a chapter

I laid my eyes the first time I held you.

Your eyes were closed. Your mouth slightly ajar suckling the air, making an almost inaudible sound. As if you are talking to me. That scent from you. That little limb movements here and there. And with that little tongue you trying to put out, was one of the loveliest thing I've seen.



We brought cousin sister up over the years.

Aunt dropped by once in a while to see her. Sometimes, would bring her home for a little of that mother-daughter time. Some years later, Aunt left to The States to make a living due to some problems she's facing here. She is not leaving her daughter. She will be back to get her when the time is right. She promised. And we know she would. Over the years, Aunt called back every other day to check on her. Recently, web chats.

After all these years she's been living with us, she's no more a niece, she's no more a cousin. She was more like a daughter, and sister to us. She was here for more than half of my life. Carved a quarter of my parents'. Two-third of Bro's. To my friends, she's always "... my sister...". To them, it's always "... your sister...".

Barely 40cm in length cuddled up, three kilos or so when she was brought here. As fragile and soft as any babies Mother had babysit before. The difference is, she was brought home a few-day-old.

Seeing her getting her vision. Sitting up on her own. Speaking her first word. Smiling. Giggling. Crawling. Clumsily balancing her first step. Running. Crying. Joking, teasing, and laughing at everything under the sun. I honestly couldn't describe how I feel.

Every moment of seeing her growing up is magical. Yet, very frustrating.

Studies used to be good. She was one of the top in her class during Primary. If not the school. Come Secondary, her results dropped year by year, to one of the top in her class, backward. We start to wonder. Was it the syllabus? Was it the crowd she mixed with? Or was it you were overly pampered by us?

What had gotten in you? Turning from a sweet innocent girl, to a disrespectful brat. From good to bad, and now, to worst. You started lying. Speaking rudely. Yelling. Cheating. Getting away from punishments. By tricking us into your sweet elaborate stories. Skipping classes. Skipping school. Smoking. Stealing money. Sneaking out at night. Sneaking out the cars.

We didn't bring you up like this!

Was it my parents fault? Was it your parents fault? Or was it my fault? Of not doing enough to stop my parents and Aunt for pampering you too much? Of not doing enough to refrain them from giving you too much? Was it?

Over, and over again, you disappoint us. Over, and over again, we let it go. For so many times you claimed you regretted what you have did, but as that many times you turn your back on us. One after another, you still hasn't change.

You are at its worst now. Up to a point, I even thought you are best changed if something really bad would have happened to you. A big one that you'll really regret it for the rest of your life. I know I shouldn't. I cried myself for thinking like this. I'm not suppose to cloud my mind. I couldn't help it. It was all at the back of my head. I don't know which is true anymore. I'm confused. I'm hurt. I'm lost. And I seriously don't hope you are digging your own grave for that.

Sooner or later, she will have to leave us. But I'm not expecting it to be like this.

A decision has to be made. For your own good. To start a new leaf in life. Over a discussion between Aunt, the husband, and us, you will have to go. Tomorrow, we are sending her off to the father. A decision that is as hard to make as letting go. As deeply cut and painful like a blunt rusty knife digging the open wound.

For that much we have poured our love, for that much we have wept.

Closing a seventeen years chapter isn't easy for us.

Project Cindy

Brief
The 60th birthday (61st for female) is regarded as an important turning point for the Chinese. A big celebration will be held to honour this person. Usually with the presence of the children, grands, and greats. To pay their respects, and to express gratitude. Sometimes, relatives and close friends of the family are also invited. Every ten years after the 60th (61st for female), is one big celebration. And is more exaggerated each.

Cindy, will be 91 this year.


Case Studies
Cindy had successfully brought up her eight children all by her own hands. Her husband was bedridden after a mishap. Not long after, he passed on early in his 40s. The husband left with just enough for her, and the children to make it through.

Cindy never sigh at her misfortune. A nice lady. Never had a temper. And is warm towards anyone she met.

Each of the children is doing very well now. Some had withdrawn from the rat race, and enjoying their retirement fund. Some has their own business. Some are married well. Some are working just to pass time. Each of them has their own family, but the youngest daughter. They have a character of their own.

The eldest daughter, princess-like.

The eldest son, carefree.

The 2nd son, rebellious.

The 3rd son, cheekiest.

The 4th son, softest.

The 5th son, nicest.

The 2nd daughter, loudest.

The youngest daughter, imbalanced.


Extra Note: Most of her children, and grands had her nose. The grands, are all doing as well.

Creative: Create a visual presentation that accentuate the ninety one bittersweet years for her big day. Idea, or concept must be relevant to the project. Animation, visual effects, music, and sound is optional.

Data Provided: Photos of Cindy.

Format: May create few formats, for different platforms.

Deadline: 19th June 2010.

Important: Finished work must be delivered by the second week of June.




First time writing a job brief... Nah, I think I'll pass.



Cindy is my paternal grandmother.

It's just a nickname given by a cousin sister some years back; talking about the trend in Chinese naming system, eh? That cousin, is also the project manager. The celebration will be a really big one. Each one of us is given a task to be in charge of, from the time this project has initiated, to her big night. That's months of advance planning.

From tasks distribution, to looking for restaurants. Menu, to booze. Guests listing, to sourcing printers for the invitation cards. Entertainment, to photo/videography. Cindy's dinner wear, to make up. Guests transportation, to lodging. Thank you gifts, to thank you cards. Lunch buffet, to stage deco. Cake, to roasted pigs. Even red packets for guests.

Father, and a couple of his siblings will be paying the bill. And of course, with the adequate amount of alcohols included; what a celebration without them! Bro, and another cousin will be the photographer. Video, only if there is enough equipments. I was one of the MCs. And other things like showing guests their seats, stand-up comedies, et cetera. Not until later they realized, or forgot, that I'm in "design". I must be doing "something" with visuals, sound, and design.

So, here I am.





And it supposed to be the activation ideas-cracking night.