CHINESE COMMUNITY LIBRARY, 2018
We spotted Sau Wah Hui on the street. She was a subject of “In Chinatown,” a documentary on Vancouver Chinatown residents we had seen prior to our arrival. Through community organizations, we were able to secure a photo shoot scheduled for a few days later. We stopped her and her caretaker to say hello.
“How do we know you?” she said, looking at us curiously. “We have an appointment on Sunday,” we reminded her. “Sorry, I don’t know English,” she said in perfect English.
We don’t even know how to say “I don’t know Chinese” in Chinese.
Mrs. Hui, ninety, was wearing a cool mint windbreaker layered over a pink geometric sweater; the combo was delightfully hip. Her white hair was neatly combed. “I do not even look in the mirror,” she later told us, as we rummaged through her closet in her Chinatown apartment. “I’ve never worn makeup. The only thing I do is comb my hair and put in a bobby pin.”
Mrs. Hui is one of the most active seniors we’ve met. She volunteers at the Chinese Community Library Services Association, a nonprofit that has provided a place for seniors to read and borrow Chinese-language books for the last forty-seven years. She’s been a volunteer for the past two years and has a designated desk and business card. She helps with fundraising and facilitating book donations (their collection consists of 40,000 donated books).
“I never learned English, so this is the only thing I can do,” she said. “I’m continually trying to learn English but it’s hard to retain.”
Prior to volunteering at the library, she was at S.U.C.C.E.S.S. (also known as the United Chinese Community Enrichment Services Society), a social service agency that helps the Chinese community, for eleven years, where she worked in the mailroom, organizing mail, donations, and paperwork.
She left S.U.C.C.E.S.S. to volunteer at the Chinese Community Library because she wanted to find affordable computer classes. “The first day I sat down and haven’t left,” she said. Herman Yan, another volunteer and coordinator for Shon Yee Place (a senior residential home), bought her a tablet and helped set it up. “I’m still a beginner,” she said. “It’s a lifelong endeavor to learn English and computers.”
We asked her about her philosophy on social service. “If I receive pension without giving back, it feels like I’m freeloading,” she said.
Her commitment to service stems from her teaching career. Growing up, she was third in her class and her father encouraged her to pursue an education. She views knowledge as an invaluable asset. “In a fire, things will burn, but you won’t lose things in your brain,” she said.
Prior to immigrating from Hong Kong, she taught at a Chinese government school for twenty-four years—educating students from preschool to grade six. She taught Chinese, dancing, and music—and sewed her own costumes. Since her husband imported Japanese fabric, she got first dibs on any fabric she liked.
“I made 100 percent of my own dresses,” she said. “I donated it when I moved here from Hong Kong.”
At the library, she showed us a chart her mother kept of her sixteen children in the order of their birth. Her mother’s document of the family tree was found under her mattress. “I didn’t know about it until 2015,” Mrs. Hui said. The years spanned from 1924 to 1948, with an average of two years between each child; some did not make it.
One of our favorite things about Mrs. Hui was a comment she made during the documentary. She was cooking in her kitchen, wearing the same geometric sweater she had on when we first saw her on the street. She lives independently in Chinatown. Her five kids live far away—most are in Toronto, one is in Taipei. “My husband died of cancer in Hong Kong in 1994,” she said in the documentary. She didn’t like living alone in Hong Kong, so she settled in Vancouver. “There’s no way I’m going to move. I’ll live alone until I’m old,” she said. We like that at ninety, she doesn’t feel quite old yet.
We asked her how she maintains such an active lifestyle. “As a senior, you cannot sit and eat,” she said. She insists on walking everywhere, never leaving home without her thermos of hot water, glasses, and some cash in her pocket. “My legs have to keep going,” she said. Mrs. Hui has a free bus pass from the government but rarely uses it. She says it’s easy to get accustomed to taking a car or bus and as a result, miss out on much-needed exercise. Her doctor has given her a clean bill of health. “The only health issue I had was when I slipped on ice,” she said. “I was laid up for a few days.”
When we were chatting, she was standing, leaned up against her office door. We asked if she wanted to sit. She said no.
“Are you tired?” June Chow, a community organizer, asked.
“I’m not tired,” she said.
