As I sat with my wife on the stone bench in front of my childhood home in the village of 𝐴𝑎𝑤𝑢 (鸦湖 = “Crow Lake”), an elderly lady walked by us and without pausing asked if I was the boy from that house who left nearly fifty years ago. She finally stopped 15 metres away below the arch at the front of the laneway to rest by the entryway shrine. I followed her there and confirmed that I am indeed that boy and we quickly slipped into conversation in our 𝐴𝑎𝑤𝑢 dialect (countryside Cantonese), which instantly gave us a connection. As we spoke, an elderly gentleman walked by and he too without stopping remarked as he strode past us, “I remember Kai. He would always say ‘tomorrow’ whenever we asked him when he would be moving to Canada.” Over the years, several other residents of 𝑀𝑎𝑎𝑢𝑏𝑜𝑢 (茅㘵 = “Reed Field”; a neighbourhood within 𝐴𝑎𝑤𝑢), have told me the same story. Apparently, as a child I was quite loquacious and would go around greeting all the households in the laneways connected to 𝑀𝑎𝑎𝑢𝑏𝑜𝑢 Street. When news came about that my family would be moving to Canada, all the people of 𝑀𝑎𝑎𝑢𝑏𝑜𝑢…
The most vivid memories of my childhood in China are those sharing food with my grandfather. China was poor in the 1970s. Food was scant and meat a luxury. One poignant recollection is when my grandfather cooked game that he caught in the rice fields and shared that tasty meal with me. I also remember when he would offer me biscuit, quietly slipping it to me when the other kids weren’t looking. I last saw my grandfather when I was four — almost fifty years ago — just before my family emigrated to Canada. He died shortly after we left the village. For reasons largely beyond my control, I had never visited my grandfather’s grave. Nor had I fulfilled another Cantonese obligation: Introducing my wife to him. Relatives would prod me: “You were his favourite. You must go visit his grave.” With the extra fear of my village disappearing due to rapid urbanisation, I finally returned to Maaubou a few weeks ago and reconnected with family who stayed behind. I had not spoken with my paternal cousins in over twenty years. We were seven children — my two siblings, four cousins, and me — living under the same roof with… 
