Oma, Wu Zetian, and Mata Hari

Several days ago, on my way to faculty, I encountered a lady - an old lady - suffering from stroke sitting on a wheelchair. She couldn't utter any single sentence, but humming some sounds instead. Behind her, an old guy pushed the wheelchair. He might be the husband, I assume. Well, UK really is a haven for old and / or disable people.

But that special scene drew me back to my grandmother, to my Oma. Just like the lady I saw, she suffered from stroke for years. Finally she gave up at 1998 and passed away, leaving my grandfather feeling devastated over the loss of his loved one. The stroke is such a demon, transforming my uber-active Oma into near-vegetative state. Being a mere child, I could not do anything. Hell, I hated the stench on the bed and made me hesitated to draw near. And I live that regret up to this day. Had I known that I am going to miss her that much, I would sleep next to her and ignoring the reek bed. But regret always comes late, doesn't it?

The recent comments over Oma's youth picture strengthen this sense of retrospect over her. Oma was a very beautiful girl. She was very clever and smart, at least that's what people said. Some even mentioned that she is foxy and cunning. Hmm, that sounds like a deadly combination, eh? Beautiful, popular, but cunning and clever. From various discussion, turned out many people thought that if my Oma lived in an imperial era, she might probably be the second Wu Zetian. Background check on her family also revealed that I have a political bloodline, since Oma's family came from the influential family in ancient China. So, second Wu Zetian is totally possible for her.

She was seen as a dangerous woman by some people. But I am lucky enough to be born as her grandson. It is a common knowledge that grandparents love their grandchildren so much. Thus, I get to feel her great affection. Probably too much affection so some people said that she spoiled me. Hmm, might be (hey, does that mean I am admitting being a spoiled baby?)

But above all, Oma exposed me to chinese culture. If there is a person who knew a lot about that, she must be my grandmother. She is the one bestowing me with the name Li Xi Da. Not only naming me, but she calculated the strokes and change one stroke only to imply better luck and life. Mine was not the first time, since she also changed a part of my aunt's name into something else. No, cannot explain it here since it is very complicated. But above all, she is a very civilized women. She knew all about the culture and tradition.

My first visit to the temple was because of her. It was my first introduction to the Buddhist's and Taoism's pantheon. Starting from that point, she gave me lots of chances to watch Monkey King. She taught me the classical songs of Teressa Teng (which is rooted deeply and will make me punched people in face when they say that the songs are outdated). Her book collection was amazing, ranging from classical stories (Water Margin, Three Kingdoms, Monkey King, and many others) to medical and fortune telling. Sometimes she told parts from the classical epoch as my bedtime stories. Indeed she made me a true Chinese, live up to my "other" name, despite my appearance, dark skin and big eyes.

She is a woman of culture indeed. She lived up her chinese rituals as strong as she practice Christianity. Something bizarre for people hearing that, because society thought that Chinese rituals and Christianity contradicts one another. But she ignored them. In fact, she was also an expert in fortune telling. When she was still alive, she foretold her daughters and me. Something that I will really try to live up to.

Her interest in other cultures motivated her to keep learning. The knowledge that she gained helped her to immerse more in other people's conversation, and by that slowly absorbs new knowledge. That way, she doesn't look very dumb, but at the same time, she learned. Sounds like a perfect spy, eh? When I read about Mata Hari later on, she reminded me a lot about my Oma.

However, she also excelled in the heart domain, at least to me. When I did bad things to her, she would say that I broke her heart. As a child, it was very powerful for me. i never wanted to break her heart, because then I thought that I would lose her. That she would hate me, that she would left me all alone. From people in my extended family, she and my Opa are people who never scolded me. In fact, everytime I had problem with my parents, I ran to them. And they always provided console and comfort.

Now, I just want her to be proud of me, the first grandson and son. I will fulfill her nice parts of prophesy and avoid (as much as I could) the bad parts. What else should I say? Even all these words still can't represent how much I love her, and how much I miss her.