Reminiscing about the Past: Essay on Kerosene Lamp

I was born in 1990, just in time for the end of the kerosene lamp era. At that time, electric lighting had not yet become widespread throughout the country, especially in relatively remote villages. In my memory, kerosene lamps were a must-have in almost every household of that era. When you go to the market in a town more than ten miles away, you can also see shops selling kerosene lamps. I vaguely remember the last time I saw a kerosene lamp, when I was in sixth grade in Taiping Town. Later, due to the popularity of flashlights and their ease and convenience, kerosene lamps were completely replaced.

When I returned to my grandma’s house a few years ago, several familiar rooms were cleared out, leaving a mess of clutter on the floor, as well as some tattered old things. I entered through the kitchen door, and everywhere I looked, there was nothing. Even the area used to pile firewood at the door of the kitchen was empty. In my impression, my grandma’s house has never been empty for more than ten years. It is always full of firewood. To the left of the kitchen is the living room of my grandparents. There is a red brick cabinet built on the wall near the door, which is specially used to store rice. Behind the brick cabinet is a large jar, which is also filled with grain. Sometimes it is corn kernels that have been dried and crisped, and sometimes it is wheat with debris removed. There are several jars like this under the wall next to the window, which are slightly smaller. They are usually used to store broad beans, peanuts, mung beans and other grains.

There is a worn-out old-fashioned wooden suitcase on top of the big jar. This suitcase is grandma’s treasure box. Whether grandpa goes to the town to go to the market to spend money, or grandma gives me and my brother every week. Grandma will get money from here for living expenses. Although I knew where my grandma kept her money, I had never stolen money, or even thought about it. In my eyes, this suitcase is my grandma's bank, a holy place that can only be worshipped.

As for the items placed near the large jar, there is something to be said for it. My grandma is an expert at making kimchi. The sauerkraut and sour cowpea kimchi she makes are my favorites. They are made by my mother. Of course kimchi can't compare, I always feel like there's something missing between the two. Every time grandma cooks, especially when cooking fish, sour chili, sour ginger and sour radish are indispensable. I call the dozen or so kimchi jars the sauerkraut area. In addition to sauerkraut, there is also a jar full of bean paste in the sauerkraut section. The jar outside is my favorite, and it contains my grandma’s homemade fermented glutinous rice. Grandma is very hospitable. Every time guests come to the house, she will make a pot of fermented eggs after dinner. The fermented glutinous rice wine made by my grandmother had a strong flavor, and I had always had a poor drinking capacity. I once made a fool of myself when I was in elementary school. I went back to my grandmother's house for lunch and ate a bowl of fermented fermented eggs and eggs made by my grandmother, and I actually fell asleep on the way to school. Later, someone else discovered me and woke me up. My grandparents and brother have always made fun of me about this.

Next to the sauerkraut area is my grandparents’ bed. In fact, when we were young, my brother and I crowded on this bed with my grandmother, while my grandfather slept in a simple shed built against the wall, mainly to guard the cattle. The buffaloes in the pen are afraid that someone will steal them at night.

Directly in front of the bed are two large wooden cabinets placed against the wall. Next to the cabinets are some miscellaneous piles of clothing. The room that my grandparents lived in was small, and the limited space was occupied by only one passage.

Having gone this far, let’s talk about the kerosene lamp hanging next to the brick cabinet! The place where my grandma lives is considered to be on a mountain, and there are only three households nearby. It is still quite far away from other homes in the team, so it was relatively late to connect the wires.

I must have been in my teens when my grandmother’s house had electricity! The electric lights at my grandma's house are always so dim. The light bulbs are tungsten filament bulbs with only a few watts. At night, it always feels dim and difficult to see clearly. Fortunately, after living for a long time, we have become accustomed to it. Even after electricity was turned on, kerosene lamps were still used, because sometimes there would be power outages, and a bottle of kerosene would still be kept at home. The kerosene light is relatively dim and the area it can illuminate is limited. The shape of the kerosene lamp is a bit like a teapot. It is completely black and covered with impurities of kerosene mixed with dust. The entire kerosene lamp has a handle made of wire. Just light the wick and you can carry it around as you please. The disadvantage is that it is not windproof and can easily be blown out when the wind gets strong at night.

There is also a kind of kerosene lamp in my memory. It is the size of an ink bottle and its shape is not much different from that of an ink bottle. There is a simple device on it that can be removed like an ink bottle cap. This kind of kerosene lamp also has a small design, that is, you can turn the switch to pull the wick upward and adjust the size of the flame.

The smell of kerosene from kerosene lamps is pungent and I don’t like smelling it. In the past, when my mother was at home with my brother and I, my grandma would call us whenever she wanted to kill chickens and get some meat to eat. After eating, everyone gathered around a table and chatted about trivial matters. At around ten o'clock in the evening, it was time to end the show. Sometimes we would stay overnight at my grandma's house, and sometimes we would go home. My grandma’s house is only about ten minutes away from my home. The main reason is that the road is too narrow dug by the owner of the field on the roadside. If you are not careful while walking at night, you will fall or fall into the field. Although the height is not high, it is easy. Hurt your feet. When three people walk at night, the person walking in the middle usually holds a kerosene lamp, and it must be raised higher so that the road can be seen from both sides. I usually like to walk in front. Firstly, my eyesight at that time was pretty good and I could walk by the faint light in the sky. Secondly, I was used to walking on this kind of road, so I walked naturally and flexibly. As I said before, the natural enemy of kerosene lamps is wind. Sometimes when the wind is strong, or the person carrying the kerosene lamp walks too fast, the kerosene lamp will go out.

I was very lucky to see a kerosene lamp when I returned to my grandma’s house. It was crooked on the ground, like a fainting old man, leaning sideways, with his right hand and head in the same direction. , with your left hand close to your chest. From a distance, it looks like it is curled up. What makes it so painful? Is it the changing years or people's forgetfulness? I think it's both. Of course, one’s own aging and mental degradation cannot be ruled out.

I want to see every place illuminated by kerosene lamps. After passing through my grandparents' living room, I went to see the main room. The main room was also relatively simple. The two red-glazed Eight Immortals tables are generally used only when there are many guests at home, such as a family reunion dinner, or grandma's house selling a fat pig. On the northernmost side of the main room is an old-fashioned vertical kitchen cabinet, with vegetables on one floor and bowls on the other. There is a windmill on the right side of the main room. This windmill is not that windmill. This kind of windmill is specially used to remove debris from grain. The grain is poured into a funnel, and the windmill has a switch that specifically controls how much grain is put down in the funnel. Turn on the switch, and the grain will fall slowly. Then turn the windmill by hand, the heavier grain will fall directly, and the lighter impurities will be blown away.

On the left side of the main room is the last room, which was originally where my grandpa lived, and where he spent his last few years. My brother and I lived here after that. After my brother graduated from vocational high school, he went to Chengdu and I lived here alone. The moon was bright at that time, and every month the moonlight fell in front of the window. It was quiet at night, and the wind outside the house could hear the rustling of the bamboo forest. A quiet life makes me feel at ease, and a carefree life is what I yearn for.

The four main houses of my grandmother’s house stand side by side and are almost the same size. Here, kerosene lamps once illuminated everything. The kerosene lamp is burning, and the old years are burning together. The rest of you and me are slowly getting older in the years.

Those years that have passed! The kerosene lamp never goes out. I held a kerosene lamp, and the light of the kerosene lamp shone on my grandparents’ faces, making them turn gray-haired. The kerosene lamp shone on the faces of my father and mother, who followed closely behind my grandparents. The kerosene lamp shone on my brother, and I found that he had another kerosene lamp in his hand.