My mother Kit Jing Chow was born in Chiu Kwan, China, in 1922. In Chinese, her name Kit means “clean” and Jing means “chaste”. Together the words mean “pure and chaste”.
My mother was the fourth child of her family. She had three older brothers, two younger brothers, and one younger sister. I don’t know much about her childhood. I just know that with the outbreak of the Second World War, my mother did not finish her teacher training at Chiu Kwan Teachers’ Training College. So instead of teaching, she stayed in her hometown and assisted her father in their family business. My maternal grandfather had three stores selling dry seafood and high-end herbal medicines. My mother was one of the stores’ accountants. She was not only skillful in doing calculations with an abacus, but she also wrote with beautiful Chinese calligraphy.
My parents were married in 1946 in Guangzhou, China. The matchmaker was a close relative whose husband was a judge. A reliable and reputable matchmaker was thought to be one of the key elements that would guarantee a happy marriage. The reason my father chose my mother as his wife was because he believed my mother could handle the complex and conflicting relationships that existed in his own and extended polygamous family.
My father knew that his wife would become the eldest daughter-in-law of a wealthy family, with two mothers-in-law who were at odds with one another. It wasn’t an enviable role to play. His wife had to be a woman of good character, who would respect and get along with various family members. My father also realized his wife had to be educated and be presentable on formal occasions, and at the same time be skillful in cooking and doing various housework. My mother proved that she not only met but exceeded all these criteria.
My parents dated three or four times before their wedding. They had a traditional Chinese wedding. During the ceremony, my mother wore a traditional red coat and long red skirt with embroidered silver and gold dragons and phoenixes. She had a phoenix coronet on her head and a red veil covering her face. To show their respect to the elderly, the couple kowtowed to all the elders in the extended family. My maternal grandparents gave my mother a maid as part of the dowry. This maid was supposed to take care of my mother and her newly formed family. But my mother sent the maid home after a few months because there was enough domestic help in the Kwok family.
My parents, like many Chinese at that time, fled to Hong Kong just before the communist takeover of China. They left many things in China, including their wedding pictures. Their ancestral houses would be occupied by communists for almost forty years.
Shortly after they settled in Hong Kong, my parents and my lawful grandmother formed a separate household. Life was a little bit easier for my mother because she did not have to relate all the time to so many members of the extended family. At that time, it was the custom that the husband’s younger siblings regarded the eldest sister-in-law as their mother. I remember my mother telling me that when she first got married, my father’s youngest half-brother was only two years old and she helped to take care of him. She also taught my father’s younger half-siblings reading and writing.
Even after my parents had formed their separate household, my mother would go back to my grandfathers’ house to kowtow to the elders. She’d perform a tea ceremony on the first day of the Chinese New Year, at my grandparents’ birthdays, weddings of younger half-siblings, and other important occasions. Those were not “casual visits”. She’d cook hard-boiled eggs in sweet broth, with dry lotus seeds and meat from a fruit called dragon eyes. My mother carried the eggs in a big thermos to grandfather’s house. Upon arrival, my mother changed to her formal black coat and red skirt, embroidered with dragons and phoenixes. Then she performed the tea ceremony and kowtowed. We children kowtowed too.
My mother had other responsibilities as well. She was often asked to write all the birthday and wedding invitations because she wrote with beautiful Chinese calligraphy. Those occasions were held in banquet halls with hundreds of guests. My mother prepared nice clothing for all of us to suit the occasion. She also sent Chinese pastries and fruits to the elders of the extended family at various festivals. I think the most important and unspoken expectation was for my mother to be a model to all the younger females of the Kwok extended family.
My mother had a premature delivery because she had to kowtow and congratulate all the elders at a close relative’s wedding, even though she was at the last stage of pregnancy. The baby would have been my eldest brother, but he died at birth.
My parents grieved very much about this incident. In Chinese culture, having a male baby has always been regarded as an extremely important responsibility as well as an honor for a Chinese woman. This was especially true because my father was the eldest and only son of the lawful wife and my deceased brother would be the eldest grandson. To my grandparents’ dismay, my parents had three daughters in less than four years. I was their second child and the oldest daughter. My mother knew she had to continue to give birth until she could produce a male child. My parents had three girls, then finally three boys. These children were all born in Hong Kong.
Giving birth to seven children and taking care of six living children must have taken a toll on my mother’s health. Her hair began to thin out, and her vision began to deteriorate as early as in her forties. Although my grandmother and a maid helped to take care of us and the housework, there were no modern conveniences in those days in Hong Kong. Water had to be boiled, the stove had to be fanned, meat and vegetables had to pick up daily from the market.
I have already mentioned in another story that my father was my first teacher, but my mother was our teacher too. She made sure her children were well-versed in classical Chinese Literature. She had us ahead of the school’s curriculum. She also encouraged us to read our School Magazine again and again because other students’ exemplary essays were published there. She always wanted us to be good writers.
I was fortunate that my parents poured so much love and attention on me. Even though my mother had lost vision in both eyes in her later years, she still asked my father to read classical Chinese Literature to her. Chinese Classical Literature remained her lifelong love.
My mother was the one who got affected most when my fifth brother, Chiu Yee, started to have grand mal seizures when he was only a year-and-a-half old. He had a seizure every four hours. When this happened, my mother put a metal spoon inside his mouth to keep him from biting his tongue. After that, our home was always in a state of emergency. Later, we also found out he had a severe intellectual disability.
My parents spent all their savings on him, taking him to see various doctors. They bought the most expensive and exotic herbal medicine for him. For example, a snake’s gall bladder and a horse’s kidney stones. Chiu did not walk until four years of age. For a while, my parents believed that brain surgery would cure Chiu’s intellectual disability. I remember how disappointed my parents were when a Brain Surgeon told my parents that no surgery could cure Chiu. Even at my tender age, I knew it was like a thunderbolt striking my parents.
The greatest difficulty was taking care of Chiu’s daily needs. When I left Hong Kong in 1973, he was fifteen years old. He didn’t recognize us, he couldn’t speak a word or take care of his own toileting needs. All he could do was feed himself.
My mother never gave up hope on Chiu. She went to different social agencies and begged people to give Chiu an Intelligence Test. She wanted to enroll him in a school. Unfortunately, Chiu had never been administered an Intelligence test nor had he been enrolled in any school. That was one of the reasons why I went back to school to get a professional school psychology degree in my forties. For me, it is not just a job to earn a decent salary, but a means to fulfill my parents’ wish. Of course, I have a sincere desire to help families with disabled children.
My mother went home to be with the Lord on January 28, 2006, in Calgary, Alberta, Canada.
When I first became a minister’s wife, I was still in my late twenties. Very often, I did not know how to relate to different age or language groups or how to serve. During those times, I always looked back and thought about what my mother did for our extended family. I strived to be like her. I am so thankful that God has given me a mother who is a model eldest-daughter-in-law.