Firecrackers, lion dances, red packets, oranges, barbecued meat, pineapple tarts… these are a few of the many things often associated with the Lunar Chinese New Year, or the Spring Festival as they call it. However, nothing resonates as closely to the heart as the reunion dinner.
Usually a steamboat dinner held on the eve of Chinese New Year, the reunion dinner is a staple for all families, big or small. The idea of it came from the idea of coming home, as they refer to it in Mandarin.
In China, it is not uncommon for family members to leave their hometowns to work in other cities and provinces across the country in search of better prospects to build their careers. Oftentimes, this means that they do not get to return home throughout the course of the year. I have often found it bitterly ironic that for these people, the idea of building a better future for their families back home means that they would have to be separated from their families for the longest time.
Therefore, the reason why the reunion dinner is so important is because for many of them, it is the time of the year when they can finally get back to their families. For some, it may mean they get to see their aging parents and relatives once again. For others, it may mean they get to see their spouses and children, albeit with a hint of melancholy, since children do grow at a rapid pace in their formative years and a single year of separation often results in a significant change in mindset and maturity. Yet, there is no denying that the Spring Festival is the time of the year everyone looks forward to.
As much as that was the case, it was never really relevant in my life. After all, the place where I am from, Singapore, is a small place where families can get together almost any time they want to. The result of this convenience means that the inherent idea of something like the reunion dinner is easily lost and replaced with a generic typical gathering for a meal, since we do not encounter the same struggles as our counterparts that celebrate the same Spring Festival do.
That was true until this year's Lunar Chinese New Year. A year ago, in 2020, the world was ravaged by the Coronavirus Disease 2019 (Covid-19). Caught unprepared, the world received an onslaught as cases skyrocketed throughout communities. In a bid to curb the widespread disease, lockdowns were established throughout the world and Singapore was not spared either. There was a full lockdown during April to June where only essential services continued to function.
Fast forward to 2021, Singapore is in the transition phase to reopening. Gatherings were allowed for the Lunar Chinese New Year but limited to eight unique visitors per household per day. Naturally, for someone from a large family like mine, this meant that we could no longer gather for our usual reunion dinner as a whole.
A week before Chinese New Year, I was casually strolling the streets of Chinatown. It was no longer as bustling as it used to be in previous years as safety distancing measures reduced crowds significantly. Amidst the quieter streets, a memory of an auntie estranged from the rest of the family came to mind.
A year ago, we visited her on the second day of Chinese New Year. Despite her stubborn front, her eyes revealed a hint of appreciation. That, and the pot of Pork Leg Trotters in Vinegar she cooked that she would not have been able to finish, since she lived alone with her husband in his eighties and was suffering from dementia. She grumbled about how she did not expect any guests as she got us all a bowl of her dish that was once renowned in the family and complained about ancient affairs that led to the estrangement.
I looked at my uncle as I savoured the deliciously sour pig trotters and saw him smiling to himself blissfully in his own world. I turned to my auntie, who was still complaining, and saw how she has aged considerably since I last saw her. Almost magically, as if it was responding to my mind, my tongue detected tones of bitterness from the pig trotters.
Despite her grumbles and complaints, as we left, her attitude softened slightly as she said, "Come again next year."
The memory washed over me like a bucket of cold water. It was funny that while others are separated by geographical constraints, my relatives chose to separate by choice.
As I continued my stroll, the idea of the reunion dinner once again came to mind. A steamboat is filled with a multitude of ingredients, yet everyone eats from the same hotpot and enjoys the mixture of flavours. In essence, a family is the same — everyone has their own traits, but still, we get along by encompassing the flaws of others.
For this Lunar Chinese New Year and the future ones, I choose to give up a small part of my distinct flavour so that I can accommodate the flavours of everyone in my family and extended family. For everyone else out there, what is your choice?