The values that this hardworking man’s children picked up, by watching their father, translated…
During the Spring and Summer Seasons, Before the Sun Rose, He Was, Already Out, with the 120 to 180 kilograms’ worth of freshly picked wax apple and guava, passed onto the platform, and alighted the very first train of the TRA, rode up north………
With the Carrying Pole on His Shoulders, He’d Provided for the Whole Family
The carrying vendors are a part of the culture in Yilan, there wasn’t enough economic goings-on or opportunities for work, for those who’d not been educated, they can only, rely on themselves, and the land too.
not my photograph…
In the 1970s, I order to raise his family, and for the sake, of clearing up the debts that my paternal grandfather had left behind, my father started planting the wax apples, and a specialty guava that’s only found in the reason, as it’d become ripened, the outer skin would turn from green to yellow, the tastes, aromatic, sweet and chewy. During the spring and summer seasons, before the skies are light, my father would, head out, with two, three hundred kilograms’ worth of fruits, passed through onto the platform, rode northbound, on that very first train.
At about 6:30, the trains would arrive at Taipei Main Station, and my father spent ALL of his strengths, and carried all the cargo, all of his luggage too, and bid farewell to the other men carrying the weights on their separate shoulders too, and headed, toward his own “territory”, to start his day of work. The days he’d set up the stands in the marketplaces, if the weather wasn’t good, he could only find a hiding place underneath the roofs of the shopping streets, and it wasn’t, at all, convenience when he’d needed to go to the restrooms either. I was still in the elementary years then, during the summer breaks, I’d gone with him to the marketplaces, to help him tally up the earning, get the bags for him to pack up the fruits for the customers, and watch out for cops—the marketplaces in Taipei wouldn’t allow for the flowing vendors to set up shop, and if the cops arrived and you’re not packed up yet, and are ready to leave the sites, either that your hauler, your scales get taken from you, or that you’d gotten ticketed. And because of this, I’d always, kept my guards up, ready, to signal the alarm to my own father.
not my picture…
At noon, my father sold everything he’d brought, picked up the baskets, and rushed, to the Taipei Main Station, ready, to hop onboard the trains to head back home again. The ride back was, the shortened times when he’d gotten some rest, because once he’s at home, he’d needed to, rush through his lunch, then, head out to the fruit farms, to harvest the fruits, to prepare for the cargoes for tomorrow. After the fruits were harvested, he’d wiped off the sweats, then, carried the nearly one-hundred kilograms’ worth of fruits up onto his shoulders. As I’d walked behind him, I saw how heavy his steps got, I’d thought, that there’s not just the hardships of life that he’d carried, that he’d not just, hauled along the fruits, but also, the livelihood for our family of nine, and still, he’d, bit down hard, year, after year, he’d even, provided, for my college education.
As the Years Flew by, The Backside that Seemed a Little Older Each, and Every Year
During the offseason in the winters, my father would follow the fishermen in our village out to sea, but, on one of his trips out, the motor wheels on the ships malfunctioned, and, it’d, flown toward where he was standing, and, instantly, the wheels, severed the muscles on his inner thigh, and, it was, just a few millimeter off from severing his femoral arteries. This accident put him into the hospital for over half a month’s time, and it’d made him bid his final farewell to the seas, and started focusing on just planting the fruits and the vegetables on his plantation, and, with that sturdy, unbreakable carrying pole, he’d, continued, hauling his own planted fruits and vegetables, as well as the assortments of fishes which he’d bought, toward Taipei; and, during the holiday seasons, he’d also, hauled along the famous items in Yilan, the green onions, the smoked duck livers, the pickled pork too.
With the passing of the years, the “haulers” from his generation started, disappearing, and as my father aged to over seventy, he’d insisted on, keep selling his goods using the poles, with the agricultural poison free vegetables, guava, the fishes, the seafood items from our locality, and called out to the customers in the marketplaces of Sanchong, Luzhou. On the weekends, we’d taken the grandkids to see him with the lunches, so his grandchildren can see the hardworking, the trying grandfather that they have.
not my photo…
Back then, Tzi-Ching Chu had, described the backside of his own father, it’s probably like this, I suppose. I’d stared at my father’s backside, and, I’d felt, so awful, and still, as we, his children all begged and pleaded with him, to NOT work as hard, he’d always replied, “you must work to live, keep working as you age, that way, you won’t fall ill.”
I think, that the carrying poles would be best used, to describe his entire life—sturdy, and unbreakable, never give in to fate, even as the hardships came his way, he’d still been able to, pass through it, with his sturdy, persistent nature.
And so, this father left the legacy of hard working mannerism for his kids to take after, and, watching her father work when she was younger, the writer internalized the values that her father embodied, and, she’s more than likely, to pass the important values of hard work down to her own young, and this, was a very good example that this father had set, for his own young.