Solitary figure wandering alone - Century Elder - Liao Bingxiong's private collection of photo albums

Author: Zhang Hongmiao
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-05-01
Features: I grew up at the foot of Yuexiu Mountain in the northern part of Guangzhou, which was once called Guanyin Mountain. The foot of the mountain was a slum, and the locals called this area "Little Bei." When I was in my mid-teens, I fell seriously ill with typhoid fever and was bedridden for a long time. The poor neighbors took turns nursing me voluntarily and brought me nourishing foods like beef broth and "Wujiang eggs." I still vaguely remember one day when there was a fierce storm with howling winds and torrential rain. The sound of a collapsing opposite building echoed loudly, and I instinctively thought that my own mud-brick house was about to fall. Surprisingly, after months of inactivity, I leaped up and ran outside to escape, and that's how I recovered from the illness. It was also then that I suddenly noticed that a Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall (built in 1931) had been constructed on the east side of the street.
In 1987, I went specifically to find my birthplace—No. 2 Lane, Dashijie. However, the changes of history had transformed Dashijie beyond recognition. When I was young, my family was too poor to afford photographs, but now, with my white hair, I could finally take a picture here. But were the poor neighbors who had helped me recover from the illness still alive? Where were they now? Only the dome of the Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall could serve as a historical landmark to help me search for my childhood memories.
Dashijie is located near my birthplace. After my mother remarried, she lived here. In those days, remarriage was considered a highly dishonorable act. The children of the mother's former husband and the new husband could not be addressed as mother and child (or son/daughter) in front of outsiders. Yet, the new husband, who had promised to raise me and my sister Liao Bing into adulthood, turned his back on his obligations after the mother remarried. I could only secretly visit her here. As a child, I never understood why men could have multiple wives or why widowers could remarry legitimately, while widows had to observe widowhood. Why was remarriage looked down upon? Why were the children of the former husband discriminated against and called "oil bottle kids"? As a child who was considered well-behaved by my family and neighbors, I subconsciously harbored the thunderous power of a storm that would sweep away the injustices of the world. P10-P11