Chan China Roots Journal
It is said you die twice. Once when you stop breathing, and a second time when somebody says your name for the last time.
Our guest writer,
joins us for a second publication for the Projectkin Members’ Corner. Monthly posts from members celebrate their contributions to family history storytelling — in all its forms. Posts may be written or recorded (audio or video) will be shared for free each month. Explore the entire Members’ Corner here.
This journal honors Chan Kin On’s name and memory in America and China so that he will not be forever lost in time.
Me: Chan Kong Chung
Though I’m known among Americans as Ron Chan, my Chinese name is Chan Kong Chung, 陳光宗. As a second-generation Chinese born in America, it might as well be “Made in the USA.” I am Chinese enough to respect the tradition of serving tea to my parents when we got married, but to my mind, education and life have always been comfortable living the American dream.
I am American-born Chinese or “ABC.” Less complimentary terms for Westernized Chinese are “banana” - yellow skin on the outside, white inside. Or “jook sing,” Chinese for “bamboo pole,” as you have a Chinese exterior, but like bamboo that is hollow, devoid of Chinese culture. The immigrant and first-born generation rarely talked about their tribulations of the past - discrimination, hunger, and hardship. Second-generation American-born Chinese have generally drifted away from their cultural roots. Sacrifices made by our forebears fade to become distant memories. Understandably, succeeding generations rarely contemplate these sacrifices. They’re absorbed in their careers, children, and online presence.
My Grandfather: Chan Kin On
I never met my grandfather, Chan Kin On, 陈健安. He died four years before I was born. He was just a photo on grandma’s bedroom dresser. But his picture spoke to me as I became enlightened on the immigrant struggle, sacrifices of leaving China, detention on Angel Island, and what it took to scratch out a living to feed a family of eight through the Great Depression and World War II.
Because Chan Kin On had the courage to immigrate to America, the “Gold Mountain, 金山,” fifty-two of his descendants, including their spouses and children, owe him for all they have today.
Had my grandfather never left China, I could have been pulling weeds in the hot sun behind a bamboo fence… a barrier keeping animals out, and a cage locking me into a minimalist existence. It could have been me, carrying buckets of water on a pole, trudging in the mud back and forth, irrigating a vast vegetable field daily.
Chan Kin On spoke little English. He spent his days from sunup to sundown laboring in the sweltering Sacramento pear orchards in 100° F plus heat to help dig irrigation ditches, prune trees, and spray toxic DDT insecticide on fields he could not legally own.
This survival level of struggle is (thankfully) foreign to me and my children. We have the luxury of opportunity and choice borne on the backs of those toiling before us. I have written two English-language books on the Chan Family History, chronicling four generations in America. For years, I thought the Chan genealogy was done.
I was wrong.
Out of my ignorance and inability to speak or write Chinese, I ignored research on our prior 150 generations and 4,700 years of our ancestral roots in China. After attending three Chinese Genealogy Conferences, I gathered the courage and knowledge to explore the Chinese side of our past.
I turned my eyes eastward and set my sights on making a Chan pilgrimage to Guangdong (Canton) to gather the tools and knowledge to complete our history. I wanted to answer the fundamental question … where did I come from?
Au Wai Sheng, 欧蕙裳, my grandmother, gave me my Chinese name. I was born the eldest son of the eldest son of Chan Kin On. My name means the “light of generations, 光宗” meaning that the Chan family name extends to another generation through me.
So, my full Chinese name is 陳光宗
陳 - is the family name, Chan
光 - means light (n) or brighten (v)
宗 - means ancestors, family, or a relative with the same surname
My son Bryan is also the firstborn of his era, so he perpetuates another Chan generation. I have physically lived up to my grandmother’s name expectations.
My mission to China was to visit our roots and Chan clan memorials to honor my grandfather, Chan Kin On. I wanted to live up to my grandmother Au Wei Sheng's expectations in both name and practice.
My wife and I canceled a month-long vacation to Hawaii in 2018 when we discovered that Chan Kin On's 86-year-old nephew still lived in the ancestral village. Genealogy has a shelf life. Family elders hold the keys to our past. However, they are now either in the twilight of their lives or their stars have gone dark. I did not want to miss this fleeting opportunity to meet my uncle in China by waiting too long.
In China, the document our ancestors leave behind in their village to capture lineage is called a “jiapu.” The jiapu includes 1) information about births and deaths recorded in the village, 2) the ancestors' names and their genealogical lineage, and 3) usually the lineage of the most current generation of the clan.
When Chan Kin On died in 1951, his village legacy and three American-born generations died in the village jiapu. He had never returned to capture the additions. This three-generation gap has critical significance, as over 3,200 years ago, Chan Mo, the progenitor (first) Chan’s in southern China, said, …
“If this family tree is not cared for in three generations, then you are not filial, and all will be lost. If you care for the family tree, all descendants will know our roots forever.”
Chan Mo, 1173 - 1242 BC.
The fundamental goal of this pilgrimage was to restore the missing three American generations in the village jiapu so Chan Kin On’s legacy could continue in China.
Village Visit
Genealogical Gold - Chan Family Jiapu
I arrived in our ancestral village, Miu Tiu, 窈窕, in Guangdong Province, prepared to photograph the family jiapu in my uncle’s home. I’d packed a heavy tripod designed for document copying and had a remote trigger to minimize vibration. An extra camera battery was important, as shooting photos drained the batteries in one morning. It took three hours to shoot it under natural light. The book was very delicate, so I had to take great care handling it.
It was emotional for me to see the jiapu. When I touched the cover, tears came. I felt the presence of a hundred ancestors. I traveled so far and spent so much time and money, but no price was too great to give up the feeling at that moment.
The age-old riddle … if a tree falls in the forest, but there is no one to hear it, does it make a sound? Likewise, will our ancestor’s sacrifices be remembered if our family history is not chronicled?
To the hundreds of Chan generations in China who preceded us, I hope the fruits of three American-born generations bring you honor.
To my grandparents, Kin On Chan and Au Wei Sheng, thank you for your courage and sacrifices in immigrating to America so that your children and all who followed could have a better life.
Our roots exist ... only if we do not bury them too deep.
Read Ron’s Members’ Corner recording from March 2024, including a clip of his father, Alfred Chan, recalling the end of WWII:
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Thank you all for the kind comments. This journal was the second time at the Chan village. My first visit was conceived because my deceased grandparents are not able to return to China. So, I would bring China back to them. Grandpa Chan lived his life in America harvesting pears in the rural Sacramento Delta. So, when I went back to Grandpa’s village, found an orchard, and gathered a few pebbles. Ching Ming, is the Chinese holiday to honor the dead. My dad, the eldest son, took the pebbles from his homeland, and gently buried them at his father’s grave. Now, Grandpa Chan, could truly rest in peace, knowing that his soul has come full circle in life, and in death. I performed the same ceremony with all my grandparents.
Magnificent and moving. ♥️