A Father’s Legacy, Etched in Wood and Memory

Moses Hongang Chang
Tuensang | June 14

Inside a modest home in a quiet lane of Tuensang, a broad wooden dining table sits at the centre of family life — its smooth, timeworn surface bearing the scratches and dents of generations past. Crafted over two centuries ago from the trunk of a Muhsang tree (Red Bark Amoora), the table began its life not as furniture, but as a hand-carved bed.

The bed was built by the great-great-grandfather of R. Throngji, a resident of Tuensang, during an era when headhunters roamed the hills. Known for his grit, the ancestor chose to build his own bed rather than sleep on the ground. The last person to use it as a bed was Throngji’s grandfather, Apü H. Shophu, who passed away in 2023 at the age of 115 in their ancestral village of Kuthur.

After his grandfather’s passing, Throngji transported the heirloom to Tuensang. “It wasn’t easy — four of us had to carry it,” he said, resting his hand gently on the wood. “But I needed it here. I couldn’t let their labour fade into memory.”

Rather than storing it away, he repurposed the structure into a dining table. “They carved it out of love,” he said. “So I brought it with love. This is our legacy, and I pray my children will protect it like I have.”

The wooden surface still bears faint dents and worn spots — physical reminders of the hands that shaped it, the lives it supported, and the family that now gathers around it. “It still carries their presence,” Throngji said. “Every mark has a meaning.”

But the table is not the only legacy Throngji upholds.

In 2011, he and his wife began sheltering girls in need — many of them orphaned, abandoned, or from families unable to care for them. What began as a single act of kindness gradually grew into a full-time mission.

By 2016, the couple had formally opened their home to provide not only shelter but also education, regular meals, and the warmth of a family. Today, Throngji is a father to 18 daughters — not biologically, but through bonds of care and commitment.

“There was no big plan,” he said. “One came, then another. We saw a need and opened our doors.”

His desire to help children had taken root much earlier. Between 2000 and 2005, Throngji served as Youth Director at the Police Baptist Church, and later as Youth Pastor and Associate Pastor at Yimkhiung Baptist Church in Tuensang. His work brought him to remote villages, where he encountered many children living without parental care or access to education.

“Many didn’t go to school. Many had no one at home,” he said. “I couldn’t unsee that.”

Back in Tuensang, the same wooden table became the nucleus of daily life. It has since hosted meals, homework, prayers, and shared stories. As some daughters grew older and left for higher education or employment, others arrived — initially shy, but eventually finding comfort and belonging.

His wife, looking toward the table, put it simply: “Every chair here carries a memory.”

Reflecting on Father’s Day, Throngji said the occasion is more than a date on the calendar. “If we remembered what our fathers and forefathers gave us — their time, their hands, their love — we’d hold those things closer.”

When asked about his hopes for the girls raised under his roof, Throngji spoke with quiet conviction. “We don’t expect much. They come, they learn, and when the moment is right, they move forward. That’s life,” he said. “We only hope they carry a piece of this home with them.”

As dusk settles over Tuensang and the kitchen fills with the familiar sound of dinner preparations, the old wooden table — once a bed for a tribal patriarch — remains firm. Around it, a new generation gathers.

And in the moments between laughter and clinking utensils, one can sense the quiet endurance of legacy — not stored in museums, but lived each day. A father, his daughters, and a wooden table that holds it all.