(Picture credit: Here)
Just last week, at the age of 29, my uncle told me that we are of Spanish/Portuguese descent from my maternal grandmother. That came of a surprise for me. Growing up, I was pretty close with my maternal grandma (I called her Oma). I remember back when I was in elementary school, she often told me stories about how his Mom and Dad met, the names of her father, mother, and grandparents, what they did for living, and stuff. I remember vividly. And I always listened to her with pure excitement--I just found it's interesting to know about the people who lived way before you. I'm not sure whether she once mentioned about our European ancestors, but what I still remember is that her Dad (a.k.a my maternal great-grandpa) worked for the Dutch and always wore suits and dress shoes every day, even at home. He was as flamboyant as that--as flamboyant as a Manadonese man who worked for the Dutch in the early 1900s could be.
When I was little, I would often ask questions to my Mom and Dad of our roots. I don't know why, but the topic always seemed to interest me. I was especially curious about my paternal side of the family, since what I always knew growing up is that we are of Chinese descent. It's even still very obvious from my facial features--the small eyes and all. But not much ever came up, other than that my paternal grandma (or Nyai as we would call her) was born in West Java as the only child and that her parents were the first generation Chinese in Indonesia. I remember I once asked my Dad which part of China they came from, and he had no idea. The curiosity probably stemmed from whenever I visited her grave, her date of birth was not written, only the month (September 1920). I also remember I asked my Dad why it wasn't written and he said none of her kids know her exact birthday. They have asked her but she never revealed her birthdate. Now that's the case for Sherlock to crack..
So, today is Chinese New Year. The year of the ox. When I was in middle school, my Dad usually took us to his uncle's house 2.5-hour drive away from our city to celebrate it with his family. His uncle is his mother's closest cousin, and probably the closest to a sibling Nyai had. Visiting his family was the closest thing I got to feel like connecting with my one of my roots. We handed out red envelopes, ate the mooncake and had all the Chinese snacks I never had (well, technically I already knew haw flakes since I was 4 or 5, but that's only it). When his uncle passed away (I guess when I was in high school), that was when the tradition stopped. We stopped visiting and only met each other once a while when there was a wedding or something. Seeing how curious myself was, I didn't quite get it why my brothers or cousins didn't seem to feel the same. Am I too obsessed with my roots? Well..
Same thing goes to my maternal side of the family. When listening to the revelation from my uncle for the first spit seconds, I was thinking "No way, my great-grandpa might be dressing like a European man back then, but that was a bit of a stretch." But then I started to connect the dots. From what I know, my great-grandpa was born and raised in North Sulawesi, which is pretty close to Moluccas (first Portuguese settlers came here) and just south of the Philippines (a Spanish colony). Also, Oma had a grey-ish eye color. I always thought that this was due to some eye conditions of the elderly, but I was wrong. My uncle (he's the firstborn) also had the same eye color, so it's a gene. So does it really mean it's true that I am of probably 6th or 7th generation Spanish/Portuguese descent? This kind of guessing game would've been much easier if only any of my family member still keeps the family tree, which my uncle said we had from both sides of the family (my Oma and Opa).
Now, going to my Opa's side of the family. My Mom often said that Opa had South Asian blood in him, and that he is of Tambi descent. I looked up where Tambi located in the map (I was guessing Bangladesh or India or even Middle Eastern), but it turned out Tambi is what the locals used to call people of Indian descent. I don't know what facial features were most distinctive of Indians back then, but what I remember vividly of Opa's facial features is that his nose was that of an Arab one. You know, a big, pointed-down one, if any of my explanation makes sense. He had tanned skin, a bit darker for Southeast Asian man, and I always thought that it was probably because he was out in the sun too much when he was in the army. Guess I was wrong and that it was also of his gene. Well..
Anyway, the thing is I really regret of not having big enough of a curiosity of my ancestry when my grandparents and Dad were still around. I wish I know who keeps the family tree my Opa kept updated. And I wish I could tell these tales to my kids one day, that they were indeed of world citizens, descendants of this and that part of the world. As for now, this might probably be the case only 23andMe could crack.
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