By Philosopher-Poet Quintus Ni

In keeping with this week’s “Home” theme, assigned by Editor Renée Vazquez, Quintus reminds us “Home” is being yourself. Don’t let anyone or anything disturb you. Be king of your heart. Be yourself. Be home.

Back in the 1970s and 1980s, the land construction and conditions in China were underdeveloped, so that waterway transportation was the only choice for travelers and merchants. Cangbumen was the most prosperous section in Wuwei County in my grandfather’s hometown, in the countryside of southern China. A lot of boats docked at the town’s terminal, waiting for passengers to get on and off the ships and stevedores to load and discharge goods. With the ships whistling, abundant resources like wood, coal, and grain surged in.

Cangbumen was my hometown. I lived on the widest and most prosperous street, as I remember. I still remember the yo-heavy-ho of the freight hand pallet and the trackers when climbing the slope; I remember the ancient city wall and Hualin Bridge, as well as my olive canvas schoolbag and the white canvas sneakers.

People have similar experiences. When we were young, we longed to go out to the furthest place and seeing a different world. But as time goes by, we get so tired of the exhausting life in our different cities, we miss the quiet, slow, and comfortable days we once had in our hometowns. And we become so eager to return to them. Every generation has its fate. After experiencing unemployment, housing reform, and so-called “worldly wisdom,” we realize half our lives have slipped away already.

Looking back at the history of the city, reform and urban development brought a brand new look to this city. We can see the high-rise buildings, prosperous shopping malls, and green plants everywhere, and see that people move into commercial houses happily. Everyone here walks fast. I want to share my hometown memories with my future child. But I will always feel a little bit sad because there is no scenery left unchanged or a memorial to commemorate that time. No longer is there neither bluestone road nor black bricks, nor tiles, nor mottled phoenix tree shadows in the shattered moonlight. The time back then seemed to pass by so slowly.

I can’t help but think of an article I read that said western countries don’t change appearances easily. Any change to the city or school must be voted on and must obtain civic permission. If it’s really necessary, slight change could be allowed, thereby protecting the appearance and look of cities or schools, and letting people always remember the origin of the place. This is different in China. A lot of construction only reproduces identical modern cities with no special characteristics. Old features are lost. 

Life is a process of losing good times gradually. Although it may seem negative, it’s true. People like forging ahead and seeing rapid changes instead of being immersed in the sadness of watching old things fade. However in such a noisy world, maybe everyone feels melancholy deep inside. Walking into an urban and crowded world, we see the shining lights and people slipping away from us. Among so many lights, there is no one for me. Whatever. I have become stronger in life; I am now used to the toughness of the reality of being alone in a new world, and I will never feel pain from the harm I suffer. I know the stars are always there in the dark night, indicating my direction, helping me forge ahead.

A Nordic song, named “My Home is my Heart,” sings about the impressions of an old city, and the experience of half a life…

 —  My home is myself.

                                                                                            I am the king of my heart.

Editor: Renée Vazquez