Ch'ing - outs

The Mandarin word for "please" is "ch'ing".  So in missionary speak, or chinglish, a "ch'ing-out" is an invitation by a member to have a meal with them.  In a place like Macau, that can turn into a real adventure, because you never quite know what to expect, except that it will be the best that the member can give you.  Let me tell you about a couple of them that we have experienced recently.

Our first ch'ing out was on May 8 by a sweet, middle-aged Indonesian sister, Sister Wu Lan.  At this point she had been a convert for about 6 months.  She is here pretty much alone in Macau, working where she can to help support a family back home.  A recognized chef with specialties in Indonesian and in Italian cooking, she can usually find part-time work in one of the many casino restaurants here in Macau, but the competition for full-time chefs is really tough.  Here is a picture of the dish she created to win a cooking competition recently.

The Winning Entry

Don't ask what this dish is.  I really don't know.  But if it is anything like the meal she gave us, it is really good.  And this recommendation comes from a reluctant experimenter.  Changing from Ranch to French dressing on my salads is about as adventurous as I usually get.







The first meal was truly a humbling experience.  For the past several months Elaine and I have been working on perfecting (improving anyway) our table manners by sitting up straight at the table and trying to remember to keep our fingers out of our food (and our foot out of our mouths, so to speak). Now picture 16 or so people in a room probably not more than 8' x 12', with perhaps 2 or 3 short stools, a fan in a corner and an impressive array of delicacy dishes.  Although strange to the taste, the food was good.  Think lots of hot curry, rice, mushrooms, chicken parts and light-green vegetables and more hot curry.  I'm proud to say that I tried everything. And lost a good quart of perspiration for my efforts.  Best of all though, it all settled well on my stomach.  Fortunately summer hasn't arrived yet - the temperature in the room couldn't have been much above 90 degrees or so.

The meal was served Indonesian style, with a fork or spoon being provided for those of us who aren't properly cultured.  Seating was basically on the floor, with one leg tucked under you and the other knee bent vertical to serve as a table.  The truly polite guests used their fingers exclusively as the eating utensils.  Newcomers were expected to use the Western utensils provided.  Chopsticks are Chinese inventions, not Indonesian, so they weren't available.  Old stiffies like me, who don't sit well on floors, were graciously given a stool or the option of standing.  Oh, I probably could have gotten down into the proper sitting position OK, but they would have had to evacuate the room and bring in several strong elders (or a crane) to get me back up again after a half hour or so.

The most memorable feature of the whole experience, however, is the sweet spirit of friendship and love in that tiny home. The young missionaries happily entered into the ambiance of the situation.  What a treat it was to see the blue-eyed blond Sister Darcey sitting on that small floor, speaking fluent Chinese, surrounded by dark-haired friends, and eating those exotic foods like a native.  Or our would-be-vegetarian, Elder Nathan Smith, sitting Indonesian style and trying valiantly to clear his plate of an assortment of meat, bone, and vegetable dishes, just using his fingers properly as knife, fork, and spoon.  And crowning the entire experience was the beaming Sister Wu Lan presiding over everything.  I wish I had had the courage to take pictures, but I was still too new and too shy.


Our second member-meal was as different as it is possible to get from the first one, I think  We were asked out by the 1st Branch president, President Teng to have dinner with his family at a buffet.  The Teng's are relatively well-to-do, having a very nice apartment, a car, and even a real piano in their home.  I didn't know quite what to expect, but their oldest son, Fallon, drove us to the Star World Hotel/Casino, and escorted us up to the 14th floor where the "Temptation Lounge" is located.  (This is the older brother of the infamous Nelson of the previous post).  He then left us with his younger brothers and returned home to get the rest of the family.  The Tempation Lounge is properly named, just not for what you would expect when you think of a hotel/casino.  I could comfortably take my mother or grandmother, or even the mission president, to that buffet.  Everything is "G-rated".  Except for the food.  Think "Chuck-a-Rama" in one are, complete with roast beef (water buffalo), pork, potatoes, soups, salads, and everything.  Along another wall is the Chinese cuisine - I'n not even going to try to describe it except to say that it looked, smelled, and tasted wonderful.  In the center was a pastry area with breads, sweet rolls, and more.  I ate until I was stuffed to the point of mild pain.  And then the temptation entered.  I saw the dessert corner - cheese cakes, waffles, ice-cream (including mint-chocolate chip), mango soup, sweets . . .    I confess.  I succumbed.  I came.  I saw.  I was conquered.  I was almost sick.  Sadly, I was still too shy to take pictures.  I will try to go back and get some and add them to a later post.  The food was surpassed only by the graciousness of our hosts.  I found out a bit later that the Tengs have a prospering Sun-Rider franchise here in Macau, complete with a very modern, clean store not too far from the chapel.  They seem to do well with it.  I am sure I will talk more about them in the future.

There have been other invitations which are well-deserving of description.  I hope to get to them soon.

2012 May 4

Our stay in the Hong Kong Mission Home was short, hectic, memorable, and is all in a muddle in my mind because of jet lag and overall weariness.  My first impression was, "Where's the mission home?" Forty or so years ago the mission home was just that - the place where the mission president and his family lived, where missionaries were greeted in a lovely living room, and where visiting guests would stay and meet the local elders.  Today the mission home is a three-story office area with an apartment facility for visiting temple patrons on the top floor (Floor 2), classrooms on the second (Floor 1), and the chapel and office on the ground floor (called "0" Floor here).  It is also located across the street from the old mission home.  The 6-story Hong Kong Temple now occupies the location at #2 Cornwall Street.  The next impression is that everyone is unbelievably friendly and seemingly anxious to make us feel welcome.  The greetings almost made us feel like celebrities - but we know better.  There is a lot of learning and work to do just figuring out what our role is.  Getting here, hard as it was, is going to look like the easy part in retrospect.

Wednesday morning (I think it was: the days got all muddled up in there somewhere.  It took me almost a week to figure out what day we were actually on), we went over to Hong Kong Island to the immigration bureau and applied for our Hong Kong Identification cards - a simple, almost formulaeic procedure that takes a lot of time.  Hong Kong doesn't look the same as I remember it either.  In the first place, instead of riding the Star Ferry over, we went on the subway.  The Star Ferry was the Chinese version of the old American railroad boxcar / passenger car you see in old movies.  It got you where you were going and that's about the best you could say for it.  Comfort was not an issue.  Now they have built a subway tunnel between the mainland and the island.  Trains run every few minutes, and you don't even know you're under water.  Clean.  Efficient.  Often crowded, but not like the old double-decker buses we used to pack ourselves into.  Amazing.  There are also at least three beautiful freeways crossing the harbor for the adventurous land travelers.  We did take the old Star Ferry back to Kowloon just for nostalgia's sake, and to get a couple of pictures of the Hong Kong Harbor as it is today.

Hong Kong Island from Kowloon

Looking at Kowloon from Hong Kong Island.

On the left center you can see the old Star Ferry, still in use as a tourist attraction.  On the right we are on the "Walk of the Stars" on Kowloon.  It is located next to the Hong Kong Cultural Center.

Hong Kong Ferry Terminal

Thursday afternoon we met four young elders who had been to a conference in Hong Kong and who were returning to Macau where they work.  They helped us with finding our way, and with our luggage.  The Hong Kong Ferry Terminal was another surprise.  I expected it to be the same old crowded, dirty place I remember the Tiu King Ling and Star ferry Terminals to be.  Instead I found a modern, clean and shiny facility with convenient shopping areas, restaurants, stools for waiting passengers to sit on, and modern ticket counters in which to buy tickets.   These are Elders Smith, Li, Li, and Tyauh.

The Macau/HongKong Ferry

Interor of the Macau Ferry

The boat itself is is a turbojet-powered boat with air conditioning and bucket seating for probably a couple hundred people in the economy class.  Cost of the trip from Hong Kong to Macau is about $25 US, depending on when you travel.  Seniors get a discount, usually.  The trip to Macau is about 40 miles long and takes almost exactly one hour on a normal day.  The ride is sort of like being on a slow-motion Merry-go-round, except you're moving forward very fast, and unless the sea is choppy.  You're actually going across the mouth of the Pearl River, but it very much affected by the ocean tides, waves, and currents.

Home Sweet Apartment

Once in Macau the elders told us that our apartment really isn't very far from the terminal, but nobody really wanted to carry the luggage that far, so we took a bus home.  I think it is a good thing that the bus run starts at the terminal.  Imagine 4 missionaries, 2 senior missionaries, and at least 10 large pieces of luggage getting onto a rather small bus.  We filled it pretty good all by ourselves.  By the time we reached our destination the thing was packed.  A rather lengthy, circuitous drive through narrow, crowded streets took us to within about a block of our new home.  We are on the 16th floor of this building.

As we entered the living room of our new apartment, we were greeted with shouts of "Surprise".  All the young missionaries and a couple of members were here to greet us.  They had spent at least one entire day scrubbing down the apartment to make it liveable for us.  Pictures of them working were posted in the various rooms.  They had also purchased some basic food stuffs and eating and cooking utensils, which must have taken no little part of their preparation day.  What a beautiful, great bunch of people.  I've said this before, I know, but I really think I'm going to like it here.  I hope we will prove to be worth all the trouble people have gone to for us.

In case anyone didn't already know, fifteen hours on an airplane is a really long time.  Claustrophobia is not a problem for me, but I have to admit that getting off that airplane was one of the most welcome experiences I can remember.

As we were navigating our way through the Los Angeles Airport we met an interesting trio of Chinese young people who seemed to be having a bit of trouble.  I first remember seeing them at the security desk at the international terminal.  As the good-will ambassadors we want to be, we naturally thought we'd lend a hand with where to go, and they pitched in and helped us with our luggage..  After a little bit, we discovered we were all going on the same plane to Hong Kong.  We introduced ourselves, and found their names were Monson, Sara, and Nelson - not  atypical adopted Asian names. At the final security check, due to a lack of adequate time, the other passengers in line allowed all of us to move to the front of the line, and the young folks came right along with us.  Once past security they continued to help us to the boarding area, where we parted, presumably for good.

To my surprise, as we got of the plane in Hong Kong (we were among the last off), there were our three new friends waiting to help us find and get through the Chinese security and customs and to just generally help us through a most unfamiliar terrain.  I thought, "What sweet young people these are."  Somewhere along the about the time we headed for the baggage claim area, one of them casually mentioned that our ride was already at the terminal waiting for us.  With those names, and that clue, I should have figured out what was going on, but  even that wasn't enough in my over-fatigued brain (at least that is the excuse I like to give myself).   I innocently asked Nelson just who it was that he thought was waiting for us.  He replied "President Chan and his wife".  So what do these young folks know about President Chan, I wondered.  After about a minute of thought processing and interrogation, I found out that these three have been attending school in Utah (not BYU), and were returning home for the summer vacation.  Two were headed for Hong Kong, one to Macau where his father is the Branch President of the branch we'll be working in.  They are all active members of the church from good, strong families.

We have enjoyed a good chuckle over their little charade, as I'm sure they have.  So much for the "inscrutable" Chinese psyche.  That is just the type of joke I would love to play, if I could only keep my mouth shut long enough to pull it off.  What a great start to our Adventure.  I have a hunch I'm really going to like it here.

Sorry I don't have any pictures this time.  I have some good ones for future posts, but I was just too jet-lagged to even thing about cameras or pictures that day.  I hope to get more posts on here in the near future, now that we have the internet in our apartment.

1 May - 6 May 2012

I didn't get the other family stories done as I had hoped.  Life got really busy there for a while.  Maybe I will be able to write them later.  They are worth telling.

Our adventure has officially began.  On 23 April we entered the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah for one week of intense training, basically in how to teach effectively without offending or being offensive.  We were able to spend the nights with Elaine's sister, Margaret, and the days in study.

The MTC is a unique experience and environment.  It has to be lived in to be understood.  I expected everyone there to be serious and long-faced and totally focused on gospel subjects.  Instead I found a place with a lot of good-natured laughter and smiles, easy friendships, and an environment open for learning.

Of course, the traditional pictures needed to be taken.

             

In the main hall there is a large map of the world, where the missionaries love to stand and point at the places where they are going,.  We had in our group people going to Cambodia, Viet Nam, parts of Africa, Europe, the USA, and even to Hong Kong.

The pictures above are Sister Welling and myself pointing to our place - Maccau, SAR, China.

Our Study Group

Senior Missionaries This Week

The main group would eat together and have some general instructions, then we would break into smaller study groups to practice and learn more about the specific duties we would be called to fill.  It's hard to realize that we'll probably never see most of these people again.  They were great.

As we were walking across the campus one day, we met up with a young elder from our home ward who is headed for Mexico.  So of course we had to get a picture of him with us.

With Elder Walker

And that about wraps up the week.  I am writing this from Maccau, SAR, China.  For some reason my computer thinks I have become Chinese so all the directions for entering information are in traditional Chinese script.  That has made doing this really interesting!  We will be getting the internet in our apartment hopefully next Saturday, so I should be able to write more frequently.  In the meantime I just want to say how much we are enjoying this place and these people.  We have been here almost a month now.  I can hardly believe it.  I'll try to write about the people and the differences as I see them before they become too familiar and I no longer notice.  Until then, joi gin.

I find it interesting how this blog morphed from what I had planned into pioneer stories.  It has been fun gathering these pictures and the information for each post.  The correspondence I've developed with new friends and previously unacquainted relatives is priceless to me.  There are many more stories I'd like to tell, but time is getting short.

We will enter the MTC in three weeks and I expect my posts will transform again.  Just what form they will take, I don't know.  These things seem to have a sort of life of their own, but once I find out what they will become maybe I'll change the title of the blog to something more accurately descriptive.  My wife tells me the current title is really misleading.  She's right.  I can only plead that it wasn't planned that way.

But if you've stuck with me this long, I hope you'll be patient as I embark on this new journey - this new chapter - of my life.  I hope I can make it interesting through my words.  I'm sure it will be interesting to live it!

In the meantime I'll try to get three more stories done (2 after this one today).  Thomas Biesinger and Anne Hodereine are great tales.

btw: if anyone knows how to contact me and can tell me, in simple terms like step-by-step, how to read the "Comments" that have been posted, I'd appreciate hearing from you.



Elizabeth Esther Massey Simper
Thomas Simper

Elizabeth Simper

Life was good as the young couple started their family.  As an expert game keeper (animal husbandry specialist and hunt master), Thomas had comfortable lodgings in the "big house" and a potentially good income (mostly from tips received for leading hunts on the large estate he called home).  Elizabeth was from a well-to-do family and would have brought a reasonable dowry.  They were comfortable, with plenty to eat and with a growing family.

Always interested in religion, Elizabeth was caught up in the new Mormon movement and started attending the cottage meetings being held in the area.  She was soon convinced of the truthfulness of the restored gospel and sought baptism.  The rest of the immediate family soon followed her example.  Neither her parents nor his were very happy with this change from their traditional faith, but the feelings of love in the homes prevailed, and when son-in-law John Birch Fagg served his mission in England several years later he was welcomed into their homes and treated with kindness and respect.

The call to "Gather to Zion" had gone out, so in 1865 Thomas and Elizabeth sold most of their worldly goods and headed for the Salt Lake Valley.  In New York they purchased oxen and wagon, outfitted themselves well, and were promptly robbed of everything.  It was about this time also that their infant daughter, Dorcas, died.

I can't find a record of how they made it to Salt Lake, but with the American Civil War just over there was a lot of trade starting up again.  Thomas was an accomplished hunter.  Perhaps he was able to use that skill in earning his passage across the continent.

In any case, they arrived in Salt Lake in a destitute condition.  Employment opportunities for game keepers were non-existent.  Nearly twenty years of unregulated hunting in the mountains around the valley had seriously depleted the natural wild-life. About all that was left was for Thomas to set up as a farmer to try to provide for his rather large family.  Farming and game-keeping aren't all that compatible, and hunger became a familiar visitor for the once-prosperous family.  The children wanted to "go home", and Thomas longed for his old life in England.  Elizabeth wanted to stay in Zion.  To Thomas's credit he held on with his wife and family and supported them to the best of his ability throughout his life.

And here we see how trials can affect people totally differently.  Elizabeth came out of the experience with a "broken heart" - one open to the sufferings of others, with love and empathy for them, and accepting of the influences of the Holy Spirit.  She held on faithful and at peace within herself.  Thomas, on the other hand, came out with a "broken spirit".   The endless hours of farming, the cries of the children from hunger, the harsh dry climate, and the additional struggles of the new homesteader were more than he could bear.  His faith was broken.  He died in his daughter's (Caroline) home, a sad, lost man.  But can we judge him?  I think not.  He did his duty.  He loved and was loved.  He was honorable and dependable.  I'm quite content to let the Lord do the judging, confident that He knows the heart of each of us and will judge us with love and compassion.

So that I can end this on a happier note, his daughter Caroline has an interesting story behind her names.  When it came time to christen her, Elizabeth was very ill and couldn't leave the house.  So the baby was sent to the church in the care of three aunts.  Unable to settle on a name for the child, each aunt gave one of her own names to the little girl.  That's how we get the name Caroline Esther Elizabeth Simper.  At least, that' the story I've been told.

Elizabeth Birch Fagg Swain Harker

"With a jar of fruit and an umbrella I can take care of myself", she asserted.  Along with a good, sharp hoe, Elizabeth proved that more than once.  For example, not long after moving to Rush Valley (near Vernon and Grantsville, Utah), her abilities were to be put to the test.

The story goes that one day she discovered she had visitors.  Two "Indians" had entered the yard, demanding that she give them bread.  Elizabeth replied that she didn't have any at the moment, but expected to be able to make some that afternoon.  If they would come back in the evening, she'd have some for them.  "Give me bread, now" was the response.  "I'll have some this afternoon.  Come back then."  "You lie!" the man accused her.  Quickly Elizabeth moved to the side of his horse, grabbed the Indian by the arm, and jerked him from the saddle, into the dirt.  "Nobody calls me a liar . . . " she forcefully told the surprised man.  "Come back later, and I'll give you some bread."  Brushing himself off and remounting his horse, he commented somewhat amazedly, "Heap brave squaw!".  They came back in the evening and were properly fed.  Afterwards Grandmother had no trouble with the Indians.  They would bring her game, she would give them bread, and she was known to take their children into her home for protection when the epidemics struck the Indian camps.

Elizabeth Birch Fagg Swain Harker

Pedigree to 5th Generation

Elizabeth Birch was born in 1830.  One of eleven children, she learned at an early age to work hard and to take responsibility.  At around 18 years of age she went to work on a farm, or estate, where she met John Fagg.  They were married, but John disappeared before their son, John Birch Fagg, was born.  Whether he was killed in a railroad accident or what isn't clear, but Elizabeth found herself delivering her child in a "Poorhouse" - the infamous "Workhouses" of Charles Dickens' novels.  The poorhouses were designed to encourage people not to want to be there,  and the design seems to have been effective, at least for Elizabeth.

In 1852 she tried her hand again at marriage, this time to a big, handsome policeman named Robert Swain.  Together they studied the restored gospel and were baptized into the church.  They had two daughters, but when the youngest was about 6 years old the marriage ended.  Pride, a wandering eye, and seemingly a bit of a temper, were more than she could take.  It is reported that she was so upset that she threw her wedding ring into the ocean when they separated.  I don't have an exact date for that event, but it must have been around 1860.  For the next 7 years Elizabeth did the best she could to support her daughters, working in a hotel as a cook and living above the Mormon missionaries' quarters in exchange for doing their cleaning, etc.

Robert Swain makes for an interesting side story here.  The popular policeman, nicknamed "The Flower of Kent", seemingly took the separation and his subsequent excommunication from the church hard.  But he must have still believed the gospel, because as a single man, excommunicated, disfellowshipped, and pretty much alone, he crossed the plains to be with the Saints in the Salt Lake Valley.  He took a job in the Granite Quarry on the lowest level and proceeded to get his life back in order.  He was re-baptized, and eventually was able to progress through his new profession until he became a chief stone mason for the Salt Lake Temple.  That is one of the things I love most about the gospel of Jesus Christ - the opportunity to fully repent, be forgiven, and return to full fellowship.  Sins can be forgiven through the grace of our Savior, and we can be healed "with His stripes".

L-R  Esther Birch Bennion, Sarah Birch Waters, Elizabeth Birch Fagg Swain Harker

But back to Elizabeth.  In 1868 she had finally saved enough money to make the journey to Zion, arriving one year before the railroad was completed.  Within three months she had become the plural wife of Joseph Harker.  At least two of her sisters had also converted to the church and were in Zion, as was at least one of her daughters.  The reunions were joyful, even if a bit stressful (you'll have to read more of the story elsewhere to find out why).

Years of independent living didn't help her adjust to life as the third wife of a polygamist.  In a short time Joseph let her move to his ranch in Rush Valley, where she looked after the ranch and provided a good place for Joseph's older sons to stay when they were working the ranch.  Elizabeth was "set apart" as a mid-wife, and her old white horse and buggy became a common sight in the Tooele Valley area.

Life was good for her there until one day, when she was out, some children got to playing with gunpowder.  They laid a trail through the yard, the house, and the outbuildings and succeeded in burning the entire homestead to the ground.

Elizabeth moved back to the West Salt Lake Valley (Taylorsville) where Joseph built her a home on 4800 South.  It is still wondered why he built the house with every interior doorway just short enough that Elizabeth would have to either bend her knees or bow her head to pass through.  It rankled her enough that before she died she threatened dire retribution if anyone dared to bury her even on the same side of the Jordan River as "that man".





Again, I feel guilty about doing such a brief story about such an interesting person and her life.  Faithful to the end, through personal trials and sorrows and loneliness, she is one of my all-time heroes (I know - I'm gender-incorrect grammatically, but you get the message).  I look forward to the day when I can meet her and tell her how much I admire her spirit, her tenacity, her spunk, and her faithfulness.  I only pray that I can hold out faithful to the end, as she did.

Sources: (in no particular order)
"Heap Brave Woman) by Beverly Squires Muir,  DUP publication)
Fagg Family Book - "The Family of Charles William & Martha Sophia Price Fagg"
Wikitree.com /wiki/Birch54  Profile manager Rena Brewin from SalmonTree.get
Wikitree.com/wili/Birch51  ibid

A special to Ellen Fagg for permission to use ideas and words from her essay "Stalking My Own Pioneer", published in the Salt Lake Tribune 20 July 2008.  She is to blame for getting me started on this quest of finding my family stories.  A great hobby, and a good way to not be too tedious at family reunions, this is.

Corrections and additions

I have gained an appreciation of what a reporter does.  Trying to get all the facts straight and all the pertinent information together, then organizing it in a coherent and readable manner is a lot tougher than it looks!  I probably won't quit complaining about sloppy writing or inaccurate data, but I will be more sympathetic.

Anyway, I want to make a short post to fix and add some information.

First, in my last post I stated that Grandma Karen Johnson made "ftallvid",  and sold it to help support the family.  I am informed by a most reliable source, Sverre Stølen from Trondheim, Norway, that that "word is unknown, and should most likely be 'flatbrød',  literally 'flat bread'", and is still eaten today.  Sorry about that error, and than you Mr. Stølen for your input.

Second, my cousin Tamra Asay sent me this picture.

House in Trondheim

I think this is the house that Olaus, Karen, and the family built when they moved from Ytterøy to Trondheim.  It looks awfully good for being nearly 140 years old!  Someone has taken meticulous care of it.

Truman Leonard Residence

I wish I had recorded just where I found this picture.  I wasn't wise enough to record it in my Web Sites Visited log.  So now I'm trying to track down some more information on it.  I believe it might be in the Farmington, UT area, and have contacted the DUP (Daughters of the Utah Pioneers) trying to locate it.  I would appreciate any information I can get about it.  Thank you.




My next post(s) will be about my maternal line.  There are some fascinating women pioneers whose stories are "totally awesome".  The first will be on Elizabeth Birch Fagg Swain Harker.  That name alone should stir up some curiosity.  If that's not enough, a book, "Heap Brave Women" has been written about her.

Until next week . . .