Every year around April, my grandmother – PawPaw – prepares a special feast of tofu, mushrooms, vegetables, and winter melon soup in honor of the Ching Ming Festival. On this occasion, we crouch on our knees and kowtow with the burning incense in our hands before we eat.

“Why are we bowing to a bowl of oranges?” I asked one year.

PawPaw laughs, “We are not bowing to the fruits. This is how we show respect and honor our ancestors.”

“Our ancestors?” I say.

“Yes, your ancestors!” she replies. “Let me tell you of two we should never forget. Of my bok-gong-gong – my great-grandfather – and his brother.”

During the mid-1800s, a great famine had spread across China. Many people could not find food or work.

Thousands of people died because crops were not planted or harvested.

Eventually a great revolt broke out against the imperial government that reigned at the time; it was the Taiping Rebellion.

News spread that America was seeking workers throughout the village of Canton. Desperate for work, Shek and his younger brother Wong decided to move to America. They would leave their family behind in China in order to provide for them.

“Ma, don’t worry, “Shek reassured her as he packed. “I will find work and send money home. Our family will no longer starve. And I will take care of Wong.”

The two brothers said their goodbyes to their family and boarded an overcrowded ship with hundreds of others desperate to find work.

While on the ship, many people became seasick, especially Little Wong. The sea voyage was agonizing and long, but eventually he got used to the movement of the waves.

During the bitterly cold nights, Shek made sure his brother drank hot tea and had blankets to stay warm.

After almost two months on the stormy seas, the brothers finally arrived in San Francisco. Like many others who survived the trip, they were exhausted and frail, but excited to have arrived to the new world. “We’ve made it to the land of opportunity!” exclaimed Shek.

The Chinese were separated into groups headed for Sacramento. They rode horses and wagons that met them at the ship. The Central Pacific Railroad Company had hired the Chinese laborers to build railroad tracks headed east.

The Union Pacific Railroad Company had hired Irish railroad workers, who started in Omaha, Nebraska heading west. The two railroad companies were building their tracks with the plan to meet in Utah. This became known as the transcontinental railroad that would enable passengers and cargo to cross the continent in days instead of months.

To the Central Pacific bosses, they believed that the Chinese would not endure the building of the railroad. To them, they looked skinny and weak. They made fun of their straw hats, pajama-like clothes and their long queues, braids which fell down the center of their backs. People called the Chinese, “Coolies.” Lowly workers.

The Chinese laborers started each day at dawn and worked until dusk. Shek and Wong worked with heavy sledge-hammers that they slammed into spikes until their blistered hands bled. They would haul cartful of tools and supplies up and down the rail line as workers hammered under the blazing hot sun.

Day after day, they labored through desert hills, through meadows and across steep cliffs until they were met by rows of mountains. The foreman called them, “The Sierras.”

The sound of a loud whistle signified each evening the end of a hard workday. The Chinese laborers returned to their camps, where cooks had prepared hot tubs for them to bathe in.

The cooks prepared their favorite Cantonese dishes – rice with dried fish, mushrooms, bamboo shoots, vegetables, pork, seaweed, salted cuttlefish, noodles, and, of course, hot tea.

Many nights Shek would share his servings with his little Brother. “Make sure you eat every grain of rice for Ma,” he would say.

One hot afternoon while working to cross the Sierras, the boss pulled Little Wong aside. “You, Coolie, we have to blow up this side of the mountain to build a tunnel for the tracks. You’re the smallest, get into the basket to set the dynamite.”

In his broken English, Shek cried, “No, he too young! I am small too. I set dynamite.” He did not want his little brother to lose his fingers or toes in the explosion.

The boss agreed. As he was lowered in the handmade basket, Shek balanced himself against the harsh wind. He made sure the dynamite’s wick was long enough so that the workers would have enough time to pull him up and away from the blast. He used a hand pick to dig a small opening and placed the dynamite carefully into the hole.

Shek lit the wick. “FIE DEE!” Shek shouted. Hurry up! Wong and the workers quickly pulled him away from the blast. On the ground, Shek sighed in relief.

The Chinese worked in twelve-hour shifts. They pecked, drilled, and hacked through more and more mountains and hard rock face. The conditions grew dangerously worse. The laborers had to be careful of snow and rock avalanches, fierce weather conditions, and blasting accidents. During the winter, an avalanche had swept away a crew of workers.

One day, the Chinese workers discovered that other, non-Chinese laborers were paid more than they! The Chinese felt they were discriminated against because of their long queues and almond-shaped eyes. They spoke little English and felt helpless.

Then, one day in June, about three thousand graders, tunnel men, and road pavers, joined together and stopped working. They chanted loudly in English, “Equal pay! Equal hours!”

The bosses furiously retorted, “We’re not going to tolerate this. We’ll see how long you can last without water and food if you don’t go back to work. If you don’t cooperate, we’ll send you back to China!”

Finally, one night, the workers gathered. Many spoken, then Shek stood up. “We will all starve if we continue to strike. We must not forget why we came here.” Then one by one, the workers nodded. They remembered their suffering families back home and agreed to go back to work the next day.

The United States government pushed the railroad companies to finish the project faster and faster. The two companies were paid by the number of miles, so bosses demanded and pushed their workers harder.

During the winter, the laborers continued to raise trestles, shovel the fills, and build mile after mile of snow sheds until they reached the foothills of Nevada. There, a snowstorm raged across the countryside. The laborers shoveled relentlessly through the blanket of snow.

As usual, Shek made sure his little brother was by his side.

One late afternoon, during a snow storm, a roaring, crashing sound rolled down on the brothers. Avalanche!

“Shek, where are you?” Wong shouted. He could not see find his brother as he peered through the snowy horizon. “My brother is buried in the snow! Please help! He’ll freeze to death!” The boss ran up to Wong and twisted his arm, “Back to work, Coolie!” Wong pulled away to free himself and began to dig frantically through the snow with his bare hands.

Finally Wong saw the tip of Shek’s boot. “Gow man!” he shouted. Help! Other workers came to help dig Shek out of the snow. They found him half-frozen and clinging to his shovel, but still alive. His body was frost-bitten. Wong quickly put his smock around Shek. A cook ran to him with a cup of hot tea as the workers carried Shek to a nearby tent.

Wong cradled his older brother and massaged his shivering body until it began to feel warm. “Yum cha,” Wong said. Drink tea.

As the days passed, Shek recovered, but lost two toes from frostbite. He was soon back at his brother’s side with his sledgehammer, hammering the rails across the deserts and mountains and prairies of the West.

Four years later in the spring of 1869, the Chinese laborers made their way to Promontory Summit, Utah. The two railway lines, Union Pacific and Central Pacific built by the Irish workers from the East, and mostly Chinese workers from the West, finally met. There was a big celebration. Railroad managers, townspeople, and other workers were invited, but not the Chinese, not the coolies.

Wong and Shek stood back and watched the ceremony from behind the crowd of reporters and cameras.

“We know, “Shek said to Wong. “To you we are invisible, but we know it is our hands that helped build the railroad.”

After the ceremony, the brothers did not go back to China. They took their savings and rode west on the new train to find a new home. They ended up living in San Francisco.

Soon enough, the brothers sent money home again. This time the money was used for the family to travel to America.

PawPaw starts a fire in the wastebasket and prepares the firecrackers in the backyard. My parents and my sister join us.

“Are you ready now to pay respect to our ancestors?” my grandmother calls out to me. “Take the paper money and gold paper and throw it in the flames. It will make your ancestors rich in the spirit world forever.”

As I watch the ashes rise and disappear into the sky, I know I will remember my ancestors. How could I forget?