Aa Waan

AA WAAN丫環

A lot of incredible events happening in America in 1976. And as a nine year-old American boy back then, I can remember some. I remember the bicentennial. I can recall the new coins, the flashy parades and the fireworks. I remember Jimmy Carter beating Gerald Ford for president. But the most important event was when my family moved to Hong Kong. And I learned the Cantonese word "aa waan."

It was the only word I learned in Cantonese over the three years living there. For it was the only word important to me at the time. That and a name. And this is the confusing part for our maid's name pronounced "Amah."((Looking up Amah on Google, I realized this means nanny in Cantonese. What our maids real name was I'm not sure to this date. Whether this is accurate today, I'm unaware, for I haven't been back.

I was a nine or ten-year old boy who loved food.

I would order the most unusual menu items as a kid. Squab? Duck? Frog legs? You bet. And I would enjoy them! If the kids behaved we got to do all the cool things: concerts, plays and restaurants. Misbehave and well, we just didn't want to. We behaved at least before becoming teenagers, where we became--disengaged.

I fell in love with our maid, like a boy's love for his grandmother or aunt. And it seemed she liked me as well. For I ate everything she put in front of me. Unlike my brother, who was notorious at being picky. There was a McDonald's franchise in walking distance from our flat. The funny thing I would order the Chinese food offerings. Sweet and sour pork--oh yeah! Fried rice--definite! But no food was like Amah's home cooked food. Not even in the fancy Hong Kong restaurant foundations could compete.

When we first arrived in Hong Kong we lived at the Repulse Bay Hotel for months. My brother and I would sit there ordering chocolate mousse. Another chocolate mousse please! Then one evening, the family went out to a posh restaurant. I had the corn egg-drop soup. A flavor on no occasion will I forget. The soup blended flavors of sweet corn, egg, green onion and white pepper. But my father thought it would be hilarious to order the century egg. Fortunate for me, I did not taste the foul thing. But he made my brother try it--not so funny after all.

I didn't know how old Amah was back then, thirties, forties? Older? She had a wisp of gray hair and some wrinkles that framed her face. I knew she was older than me and knew better about a lot of things.

I'd watch in awe how she wielded a giant cleaver. She'd cube vegetables smaller than Yahtzee dice. Or she'd crack open lychees, coconuts, and melons with precision. Live content in a bedroom smaller than the size of my closet. And how to wear the color blue.

Then there were somethings that I should not have learned. For example, the sugar sandwich. On numerous mornings, I would see her make these. She'd place a slice of white bread on a cutting board. Then proceed to shake granulated white-sugar over the slice. Then top it with another slice of white bread. My eyes widened in excitement. A new food experience! As I bit into it, the granulated sugar melted into a liquid. The sandwich would slip down my throat like cereal left to long in the milk. But before I could finish a third of it, the sandwich whipped out of my hand. I could hear my mother ask, "What are you eating?"

"A sugar sandwich?"

Well this didn't go over well. I emerged from my mother's womb with numerous medical issues. And one was hypoglycemia. It's a non-curable ailment, if I don't eat, my blood sugar can drop. I can get sluggish or temperamental. And eating a sugar sandwich could spike my blood sugar. Equaling in a more intense blood sugar drop. So no more sugar sandwiches for me.

My favorite time was when my dad came home. We would sit in front of the television watching *Happy Days* rebroadcast. Amah would pad in with bowls of delicious concoctions. My favorite was the fried rice. I would eat and amaze at the little cubes of vegetables. They didn't come out of a bag from the freezer like before.

My brother and I went to Hong Kong International School, or HKIS. We wore uniforms and the teachers spoke English. In the cafeteria, there were two lines. One line led to a McDonald's limited offerings. On the other side were the Cantonese offerings. This is the line I was in. Except for the days they advertised "Chicken Balls." Of course, the kids knew they're weren't serving testicles. But we would laugh and point. There was a long line for hamburgers or fish sandwiches that day.

One day, Amah tells my parents that she will travel home to visit family. She would vacation for a month to visit family on the mainland. China during those times were off-limits to non-Chinese citizens. That is unless you had real a reason to be there. Like my father who traveled to Kowloon on a daily basis for work. Amah asked if she could take their son Jackie with her.

"He would love the food there."

Of course my parents decline. Could you imagine a nanny smuggling me in? American white boy, into mainland China? For years, I wished someone would write that story for me. Sounds like an amazing tale.

When my parents revealed this to me, my eyes open wide. It would have been an amazing food experience.

*Note: I've recently looked up what Amah means in Cantonese. It's a word for nanny. I guess I never knew her real name and never will.