Batik And Soup
Have you ever wondered about your memories? I have... and it keeps coming back lately.
The other day I was having tomato soup and buttered toast, something I could eat every day but I wouldn't because it's just not healthy. I was quietly eating, taking in every spoonful of soup, mixed with flavoured thoughts of the past. I was wondering why I like this combination so much and it took me back to my childhood, it started when I was about five years old. My Indonesian grandmother used to live in the east of the Lowlands in a small village where she was known as the mother of the local GPs: her daughter and husband [my aunt and uncle] and probably the only dark-skinned person along with her daughter of that part of the country. We would visit her twice or three times a year, which was always something to look forward to. An adventure and not just because of the long trip there although I loved driving around the country with my dad.
My nenek was extremely talented, she loved crafting: sewing, knitting, embroidering, crocheting, etc. Most of the time she would recreate characters from children's books or TV shows. She would keep them for a couple of months until she had about 30 and then donate them all to charity, to children. When she first arrived at the Lowlands from Indonesia, she couldn't speak the language and in order to deal with her grief for having to leave her home country, she started to create her life story in the shape of a large embroidery. Her husband was still missing because of the war with Japan and it took her over a year to find him, scrolling through lists of dead people at the Red Cross Unit in Indonesia. They had been separated during the war and ended up in different prison camps. She had to go back to Indonesia and leave her three children in the Lowlands, to look for him.
Her embroidery would tell all the details of her life, her pain but also her joy: how she met my kakek [grandfather], her life in Indonesia, her trip to the Lowlands by boat etc. She used fabric from Indonesia so she would still have a connection with her country, from sarongs, blouses or even curtains, most of them batik. Appliques decorated with shiny, glittery tiny beads, thousands of them... It had a special place in the house, on the wall, near the stairs up to the first floor, next to all the kerisses that had been in the family for ages. Not a dominant spot though but it would definitely catch your eye somehow. It was the most amazing artwork I've ever seen... and as a child I would ask her over and over again to tell me her stories. She would ask me to point at a detail that I liked and she would tell me her tales. Something that could continue for hours...
She also used to teach others how to play the piano or the organ. She had a piano in the back room and an organ in the spare room upstairs. She would go to church three times a week just to play the pipe organ when no one was around and of course the finale on Sundays. I was the only one she would allow to play her piano because she said 'I had talent'. She wanted my dad to pay for lessons but we had no room in our house for a piano and there wasn't any money for lessons either. Although she kept reminding my dad with each visit, it didn't matter to me, because I could 'play' whenever we would go there. When my grandmother became older she stopped cooking those lovely Indonesian meals for us and instead of the usual Bami Goreng we would have tomato soup and buttered toast for lunch and get Chinese takeaway later.
While I'm writing this, the memories start to come back but unfortunately not all of them, some I just can't remember... I now realise why a simple combination of tomato soup and buttered toast seem to have left such an imprint on my mind. I still wonder though whether your memories simply vanish over the years. They seem to become more and more transparent and incomplete, like a faded picture that has been lying in the sun for too long. What's the purpose of having memories if they seem to fade more and more each year? To me it's kind of a freaky thought that you end up with no memories at all once they're all vanished... I'm referring to childhood memories in particular because especially those, are the ones that bring back certain emotions, pictures and even scents or flavours...
Even though each day is another opportunity to create new ones, wouldn't it be a shame if they would all slowly turn into dim, hard to acknowledge, unrelated 'nothings'?...
Oh what a beautiful wonderful memory!
It's funny, there is a smell sometimes, or playing the garden (or just dirt) that reminds me of my Great Aunt Eva. Eachtime those memories surface there is something more to remember. The more you access and WRITE DOWN your memories, the more you can access the rest of them...
Keep those memories coming, it's part of who you are - A beautiful spirit of light.
As you were talking about your memories, I could *feel* your words. I just love reading your words.
Love and Light dearest friend,
Mon
I'm happy to hear that I could make you 'feel' my words, that means a lot to me, thank you Monica! *smiling* You're so right about writing them down, I should do that more often. I write down dreams at times, so why not memories. And indeed the memories started to come back while I was writing this post...
At times 'solutions' can be found in the most simple shape or form, I wonder if it's just my own complex nature to forget about that... but then again: there's you... making me look at things from a different perspective and remind me again, thank you for that! You're a sweetheart!
Oh my goodness Tess! I think we are connected or something! Yesterday I was feeling very nostalgic because I was having lots of memories regarding my grandmother whom I love very much. I even called her yesterday!! I wanted to listen to her voice and joke with her on the phone, to listen to her laugh :) Most of my childhood memories are related to her as I basically grew up with her...And as you said, it is scary to think that so many of my memories have already faded away. I want to hold tight to the ones that I still keep as treasures in my mind...
Very moving post. You have made me try to fight the tears...so you can see that I agree with Monica's comment (I think in your previous post) Your writing is superb.
Awww, you're a sweetheart! Thank you dear :)
It's means a lot to me to hear this and it's touching to know my writing has such an effect on people.
I can imagine it must be tough for you to be on the other end of the world... I know what it is like wanting to hear someone laugh. My 'someone' is on the other side of this globe too and it makes me so happy hearing a laugh... I hope you had a great time talking to your grandmother and that she managed to pass on her smile to you and brighten your day! :)
You know... Monica is right about writing them down, it does work... Might be some help to you too?! I started to actually, it's like a special diary: The Book of Memories :)
I think it is a very good idea that of writing down your memories...I think I will open a private blog just to write them down :)
It was so nice reading this piece of history of your family. Memories build our lives and sometimes by simply remembering that past changes our mood, and our way of doing things, our thoughts and sometimes even our lives. I have a dream of writing an autobiography one day but I don't feel the right time has come yet. I believe that there is a timing for everything and nature will signal the right time, I just have remain aware to see the signal.
The photo gives me a sensation of known uncertainty, like a future that is there but still unclear as to how it will be. I like semi blurred shots they give so a mysterious feeling.
You know what would be nicer? To buy a really beautiful notebook and write them down whenever you have a moment... that could be anywhere. So you won't need internet and you'll have something really special that you might wanna pass on to your children one day ;)
Better idea? ;)
Thanks Reuben, I'm happy you enjoyed it! Yes memories can be quite influencing, good and bad ones. I share your thoughts about 'the right time' you will know when that will be, that would be cool, the autobiography. I think I would be too modest to write one, although in a way I already am by keeping this blog...
I like your words about the picture, they made me think :)
Which in this case is a good thing, thank you! :)
They won't vaporize. . . they will be there.
But it seems the harder you try to remember them, the more elusive they can be. And they sometimes pop up when you least expect them. Perhaps when they're really needed?
I've often considered writing a bio, not that I thought anyone would find it interesting, but there was a time I also thought they were fading.
It seems memories have their own priorities depending on where you are in life.
Jim: interesting viewpoint... In my case though I didn't really 'need' them, they were just there all of a sudden. You can't think for others: just write the bio *hehe* You have one reader already *nudge nudge*
'Depending on where you are in life'... Or perhaps: who you wish to share them with at that point... (?)
I dunno. . . sometimes we don't realize what we need (?)
Oh I'm such a poor writer :-(
Not that I'm a great orator either, but I do tend to take that route ;-)
I had something else in mind with "where you are in life" (still unbaked thoughts), but it could also include whether one has someone who appreciates.