Learning to Gamble Post #2

What hobbies have been passed down from your family? 

The first mahjong set I ever saw was at a party. The shuffling of the colorful, marblelike tiles filled the room, almost playing as background noise to the vibrant conversations around it. I watched my dad play, and once it got to his turn, he drew a tile and flicked the tile effortlessly with one finger to the discard pile. As it slid, it bumped into a previously discarded tile, creating a satisfying “clack” Immediately, the game caught my attention and I pestered my mom.

“Can you teach me how to play this game?”

She laughed it off. “When you get older, I’ll teach you since it’s too complicated for you.” She kept on playing, and I was left puzzled. “Too challenging for me? I’m a six year old though!” I thought. “How dare they think I’m incapable of this game. I’ll show them.” After that day, I annoyed the heck out of my parents to teach me how to play. 

It was actually my grandma that taught me a lot about Chinese, so it wasn’t really a surprise that she first taught me the names of each tile. I still didn’t know how to play, so I just strung the tiles together into a long line and recited them. I know, I was a weird child. My parents saw how intrigued I was at the game, and they slowly started teaching me. 

I loved that game. Learning a new intricate strategy would completely change my playstyle, and I learned the strategy little by little, leaving me hooked for years. And the sound it made when you hit two pieces together was perfect. I’d play with my entire family frequently after school, and I always had a sneaking suspicion that my grandma let me win all the time. After all, Chinese grandmothers are all secretly mahjong grandmasters. Sadly, my grandma returned to China and with her, my routine of playing mahjong disappeared. As my grandma left, I also noticed my Mandarin deteriorating. Once again, it wasn’t a shock because my grandma only understood Mandarin so speaking it was out of necessity and now that I didn’t have to speak it anymore, I stopped. 

I think many Asian Americans, I included, feel a sort of disconnect when it comes to their culture. Mahjong meant more to me than just a tile game. It was like a gateway to a world less traveled. Through it, I could connect to my culture by playing matches with my relatives. I love the activity of the game, where you’re forced to sit to play and there’s nothing to do except talk amongst the players. I feel as though mahjong strengthened my connection to my family members because though we were playing a game, the real experience were the stories told at the table. Without mahjong, I would’ve never known crazy stories like how my father would take dates from his neighbor’s date tree, ensuring that they “wouldn’t go to waste.” 

When you pick up a hobby passed down from your family, it’s special. It’s a bonding moment with your family. On the surface mahjong may be a tile game, but if you dig deeper, it’s a game that tests your strategy, and it’s especially a way to relate with heritage you feel disconnected to.

                                                   (Getting stomped on by my extended family)