Fifteen Years in America - Chapter 4: College in America (Part 1)

This is a continuation of my family’s immigration story originally written by my dad in Chinese. For more of my dad’s narrative see the category marked Fifteen Years in America. Enjoy!

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When I started college, the most unfortunate thing that happened was that Popo passed away. When we lived with Popo, we did not need to pay rent, and that lifted a gigantic financial burden from our lives. As an exchange, we cleaned the house and yard and often cooked for her. Popo really loved to eat my stewed pork. Even though she was over 90 years old, whenever I cooked some of my stewed pork she would eat a bit more than usual.

After we returned from our Disneyland trip, one of Popo’s daughter told us that Popo contracted pneumonia and had a high fever. Her children sent her to the hospital. We visited her in the hospital but she already slipped in a coma. After a few days, she passed away at the ripe age of 94. We lived with her for a little over 4 months. Even though her children did not want to live with her, all of her descendants were quite filial to her. Every day a different member of the family came to see her and give her food and sometimes gave us things to eat. Now Popo left us, and we had to move.

Right before I started college, my whole family moved to a studio on Young Street. It was just a room around 200 square feet with a tiny bathroom and a small kitchen. The rent and utilities cost around $500 a month, but this was the cheapest place we could find. Right in front of the door there was a gigantic mango tree that bore enough fruit to last us for years. Helen actually dried the mango in the oven and preserved it. I remember during the Cultural Revolution, there was a headline that stated Chairman Mao donated some mangoes he received from African diplomats to a labor team. At that time, I really didn’t know what kind of magical fruit a mango was. Then in Hawaii we had an endless stream of mangoes to eat, and my former fascination with the mysterious fruit was gone. We lived in the tiny studio for more than four years, until I received my Masters degree and we left Hawaii.

January 18th, 1993 is a date I could not forget. On this day, I became a freshman at Kapiolani Community College and began my life as a working student. In the first semester I selected four courses totaling 12 units. The courses were English, Mathematics for Economics, American Business, and Basic Accounting.

The first day I went to class, I sat down in the classroom and saw many teenaged American classmates around me. I thought to myself that in China I have been teaching kids like these for many years, but now I am once again in the student’s seat. Sometimes life is just really unpredictable. Going to school is tough, but this was the only path I could take since I left my homeland. However, going to school is also a luxury. If I didn’t have the time or the money then there is no way I would be studying in a foreign country. If I didn’t leave my homeland, there was no need for me to repeat college. So from this point of view, I feel that I was quite fortunate. Since I felt that I had no choice but to go to school again, I gained a new experience, and also obtained more options and excitement in the process.

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