life start from kitchen

Life Start From Kitchen





This is my mum’s kitchen from 1985 till 2005. It served Mum for 20 years.





After school each day, Erya put water inside the steamer and washed it. I’d start to feed the chickens and a pig.

“Sister, come help me move this steamer to the kitchen.”

After the steamer was full of water every day, it was so heavy. Erya and I would lift it up side by side and move it to the kitchen. My sister would put five corn breads inside it and start a fire underneath.



“Mum, outside there is a man selling fried sticks. Can we buy some?”

My brother, sister and I ran into the house. Our mum stopped work on a cloth near the porch.

“No,” she said. “You know we don’t have any money for snack food!”

“But Mum, you never buy any snack food for us. Other kids can have snack food all the time…”

“I know, but we are poor. Not the same as others. Be good. Stop demanding snacks.”

We all shut up. We knew this was the end of it, whatever we demanded.

“Mum can you keep three eggs for us to eat instead of selling all of them?”

“No, there are only 22 eggs. If I sell them,” Mum said, “I can buy pencils and paper for you to study at school!”

“But it’s almost a year now since we last ate an egg,” we continued demanding.

Mum’s hand stopped placing the eggs into the basket. But only a little while. She continued again, her hands trembling a bit.



One summer the lady next door saw Erya and I sitting near the gate, peeling the leaves from sesame plants. After peeling and putting the sesame under the sun, it would dry and crack easily, so we could get the seeds out.

She turned back and brought us a cucumber. Erya looked at me and I looked at her. We knew we were not allowed to take anything from anybody. Mum would be cross with us if we did.

We both shook our heads and said “Thank you! But Mum won’t let us!”

She sighed, put that cucumber on a stool inside her fence and walked to her field. Erya and I swallowed, then continued peeling the leaves. But we couldn’t take our eyes off that cucumber. We felt dangerously tempted, so both went inside our gate and locked it. We walked around the yard. But that damn cucumber was just in front of our eyes. However we tried to forget it, nothing worked.

We looked at each other. No word was needed. Both of us ran to the gate and opened it.

Erya stood there watching out for people as I stood on a stool and jumped the fence. I grabbed that cucumber and quickly climbed out. In my /panic), my pants tore a bit.

Once I got out, Erya and I ran back home. Hiding behind the crops store, we shared that cucumber, half and half. Both of us were really satisfied. We hardly ever had anything to eat, except corn bread.



We went into the house. It was time for cooking lunch. Mum was patching clothes, as always.

“What is on your mouths?” Mum asked.

“Nothing!” Erya and I both quickly wiped our mouths.

“Nothing?” Mum’s face started getting longer.

“Nothing!” I said.

But Erya said “we have eaten a cucumber!”

“Where did it come from?” Mum was standing up now.

“We, we took it from Lady Hong’s yard,” muttered Erya.

“You! You! What did I tell you?” Mum’s faced started going red.

“Never, ever take anything from anybody,” we both muttered.

“Now, you are even stealing!” Mum grabbed the broom and started hitting my bottom, and then my sister’s. After that, Erya and I couldn’t walk for at least three days. For a long time I thought that everybody else could use their feet and legs to walk, but only Erya and I used our bottoms. If not, why couldn’t I walk after Mum hurt my bottom?



What? Do I hate my mother? No, never! Because after she had finished the violence, she was crying too. That silence and her crying really made me feel that she was much more hurt than us.

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In winter when it snowed four times making all the yard slippery, we had a Festive feast one evening. Mum and Dad sat inside making dumplings. My sister and I sat out in the kitchen looking after the fire.

“I think the meat should be cooked,” Mum yelled out from the house. “Stop the fire!”

We stopped the fire and sat closely together.

“Erya,” I said, “tonight I’m going to eat a chicken leg. If Mum gives me one leg I won’t ask for any more!”

“Me too! I want to have a bowl of pork dumplings too.” Erya’s mouth watered.

“Yes, I still can remember the taste of meat from last year’s feast.”



Outside it was snowing again. We sat dozing, then heard Dad yell out “Bring the meat inside the house. It is time for dinner.”

Erya and I woke up. Standing, we found our feet were numb from the cold. We shivered, stamped our feet and rubbed our hands for a while.

“Ready?” I asked Erya. Because it was meat stew, Mum had put very much water in, so the wok was very heavy. I was to hold one side and Erya the other. We would lift and carry it to the house together.

“Yes!” she answered.

“OK, go!” I said.



As we moved across the yard it was so slippery. A thin layer of snow was now on the ground, which was even worse. We had to move very carefully.

“Sister! Ah…” Erya fell down on the ground and the wok slipped out of her hands. Next it was me, copying her. All the meat stew was poured out on the ground. The wok cracked, too.



Dad heard Erya’s screaming and ran out to us. Not surprisingly, Dad started swearing at us.

“Two little bastards. Look what you’ve done!”

Mum came out and pulled us both up. “Why don’t you be careful?” she said. “Did you get burned? No? Look at the mess of you, get inside!”

Dad’s shoes flew and hit my shoulder. I didn’t feel any pain, I was so angry with myself. We only ate meat once a year. Now I had completely wasted all the meat stew on the ground and the wok was cracked. Mum would have to find money to but another one. Where could she find it?



While Dad continued swearing, I saw Mum bend over, pick up the small pieces of meat and put them in the cracked wok. Some were full of mud, because the hot stew melted the snow and ice on the ground. Erya and I both walked to Mum and helped her pick up the small meat pieces.

“It’s alright,” Mum said. “After we wash the mud off, we will still have meat to eat!”

I stood in the snow, tears coming.



Life started from the kitchen, in Mum’s kitchen. That’s all she had. Corn bread was always on the dining table, water and sometimes salt radish. That lasted for almost 15 years.



Mum, today I sit here and write this and my tears come again.



Thank you, Mum! I have never forgotten what you said: “Never, ever take anything from others.”