All began with my grandfather’s ambition to marry a European girl. She came to East-Asia with some kind of Hippie movement, I guess. She was fascinated by my grandfather’s little business to sell traditional medicine. Obviously she believed that he is in possession of some marvelous elixir that keeps her for ever young or something like that. When she found out that it is just business and hard work to make ends meet, she disappeared. One Sunday morning she was gone and my grandad stayed alone with my father. Fortunately he found grandma who was hardworking, kept the business running and added an other three children to the family.
My father was different though. As his maternal language was some kind of English my grandparents decided to sent him to an English school. Well that’s why he rose up in an entirely different community of peers. He spoke English much better that Chinese and finally married an English woman.
Both my parents were ambitious academics and when the riots broke out had no problem to move to England. In England though my mother found out that she is better off when married to an English man. They divorced, and I stayed with my father. My mother, I lost out of sight. She didn’t care any more about us. And I didn’t stay with my father for long either. I had no nerve to perpetually listen to his complains and sorrows.
Now that I sit here with my son alone, I muse if there is a pattern of inheritance in the male lineage of our family.