We have finally finished teaching for the year. I now know for sure that the teachers are more excited at the end of school than the kids. Tim finished two weeks earlier than I, and I two days earlier than the children. This year the primary school let out late; the children, even first grade, had their final tests on July 2nd and 3rd. School's finally over!
Friday the 6th saw us on the train to Shaoyang with a 3rd-year student named Jeffery. He had taken one of my classes as an independent study student. His 12- year-old brother had drowned less than a month before Jeffery finished high school. Jeffery had to return home and, not surprisingly, failed the college entrance exam several weeks later. There are no exceptions in China for difficult circumstances. Your marks either get you into college or don't; his didn't. In order to get a college education, he therefore had to enroll as an independent-study student at a higher cost. Independent study students can earn a three year diploma, but not a bachelor's degree.
Shaoyang is more than a four-hour train ride from Xiangtan. Our family, Jeffery, and Jeffery's girlfriend Linda, were seated in the Xiangtan train station when we were approached by a group of ethnic women. They were dressed in Mao-type jackets, with a special type of kerchief on their heads. We gave a few jiao to each of them; then an older man came up to us. His fingers were badly deformed, as though they had been severely broken years before. Of course we treated him just like the others, but Jeffery's girlfriend jumped up and scooted away as if he had leprosy. I was stunned. "She's just afraid of him," Jeffery said. I guess this is a pretty common reaction towards handicapped or otherwise different people in China.
Jeffery had bought platform tickets, which got us on the train but didn't give us a reserved seat. The hard-seat section was very full, with people crowding all the aisles, so we were faced with either standing among the crowd for over four hours or finding another alternative. Jeffery finally managed to pay extra for us to spend the duration of the journey in the dining car. We had a great trip, eating, playing cards, and generally relaxing for the first time in months.
At Shaoyang we met Jeffery's sister, brother, and pregnant sister-in-law. They shared a very nice apartment on the outskirts of town. During the evening we also met his uncle and aunt, and various other relatives. We actually lost track of how many were actually family, because the family circle can be enlarged at will. Someone might be called a brother, sister, or aunt simply because they are a special friend. We had a very nice dinner, composed totally of meat dishes. Though we had told them in advance that we were vegetarians, no one believed us and, besides, tradition demanded many meat dishes for guests. We then went for a fifteen-minute walk and ended up at Jeffery's grandmother's. She is a wonderful woman, 65 or more years old and unwilling to give up her independence. She raised Jeffery throughout most of his childhood in a very small shop. It is about 200 square feet; half is filled with small things to sell, while the other half is taken up by her bed, a small table and a chair or two. Jeffery confessed that only in such simple surroundings did he feel comfortable. His brother's home was quite stylish, with modern appliances and large wood and rock sculptures, but Jeffery said he was uneasy there. A little girl relative was staying with his grandmother; she was nine and very sweet. She and Tariqa became good friends, and they played together for the next two days.
Jeffery's grandmother wanted us to have lunch with her the next day so we agreed under the understanding that she would only provide vegetables for lunch. (Meat is quite a bit more expensive than vegetables. Poor people will gladly spend their cash and buy meat to serve their guests, as part of the tradition. It pains us to see someone sacrifice in this way to please us, especially as we are vegetarian. The best we usually can do is to bring lots of fruit as a gift.) She agreed and the next day we visited her again. Actually the lunch was prepared at Jeffery's aunt's home, also nearby. Again the food was delicious, and this time it even was mostly vegetables.
Jeffery, his grandmother, and I had a nice chat together. Since I had expressed an interest in the life-stories of ordinary people, we talked for a while about her experiences during the Japanese war and the Cultural Revolution. She was 13 when the Japanese invaded her village. At the time her sister had an injured leg and couldn't run fast. While the grandmother and other villagers fled to the caves and hid, her sister and a pregnant woman were too slow to get away. They were caught at the river. The sister was a good swimmer and actually jumped into the river and escaped. The woman was not so lucky. She was killed by a bayonet to the stomach. For several weeks they remained hidden in the caves. Finally they returned to their homes. Every few weeks the Japanese would force them to move somewhere else, so they had to leave behind their shelters and the fields they had just planted and start over again somewhere else. Their former houses often were turned into barracks for unfortunate Chinese women who were forced to serve the soldiers as prostitutes.
Jeffery's grandmother was lucky and escaped that fate. She married when she was 14 and, by the time the Japanese were defeated two years later, had a child. The peasants then had several very difficult years during the land-reform movement. The local landlords were not interested in sharing their land with their peasant tenant farmers. The first year there was no help from the Communist Party so the peasants had to fight the landlords alone. The landlords had their own soldiers, so there were often battles -- armed, trained mercenaries against unarmed farmers. The second year was easier because the Communist soldiers supported the peasants and helped overthrow the bigger landlords. By the time Jeffery's grandmother was 18, she said, the land reform had been accomplished. The luckier peasants actually were allowed to own their own plot of land for two years. Then all the farm plots were collectivized into communes, on the theory that the workload would be easier.
For the next 30 years Jeffery's grandmother lived in the commune. She said that the only benefit she got from the commune was the company. No one actually owned the land or owned the products, so no one worked very hard. There was no benefit in working harder than other people. Everyone got the same amount of food and the same living conditions as long as you filled your quota. For each day that you completed your quota, you got work points, which went towards the food you ate that month. If you didn't work hard enough, you were ridiculed, so most people put up a pretense of working most of the time. Nevertheless, production dropped sharply and there was never enough to eat. The quotas were decided by the local or provincial party leaders who were supposed to be elected by the people. To be "elected," however, one needed to have the proper background, not be tainted by education or foreign contact, know the right person, and be at the right place at the right time. Leaders received preferential treatment and were not subject to quotas or labor. This system continued until the late 1970's. During this time Jeffery's grandmother had 4 children within 6 years of each other. Jeffery's father was the second oldest. Mothers didn't get time off work because of children. The children were left to fend for themselves while the women filled their quotas of land tilled or bundles of wood carried.
With the four children to feed, hunger was a constant companion. Finally in order to survive, Grandmother became a midwife and started to do C-sections. For every C-section that was done the government guaranteed to pay a small amount. Of course, she never received any of that money, but each family whose baby she delivered would give her a red packet, which made her a member of the family. If they had anything to share, she would get a small amount. Over the next 30 years, she delivered 4,000 babies by C-section, at home, using only some kind of pill to ease the pain. Normal childbirth was permitted only in the hospital and nobody could afford to spend four days in the hospital. Two quick incisions, pull out the baby, sew the woman back up, and treat her with a few special herbs and medicines. As remarkable as it seemed to me, in China this was considered a simple, normal procedure, routinely performed by anyone with the courage to attempt it. Unfortunately, at this point in her narrative, lunch was served and I had no further chance to learn of her later life.
Every time we stopped or visited someone's home, we had to eat something with them, usually watermelon. Right now, probably everyone in China is eating watermelons. At Jeffery's aunt's we met one of his younger brother's teachers. She lived nearby so we had to visit her on the way back. More people and watermelon appeared, as well as several puppies to play with. Tariqa was in seventh heaven. When we left they offered to give us a puppy. We graciously declined. We arrived back at Jeffery's brother's home in time to eat again -- watermelon and then dinner. Afterwards we played cards, Oh Pshaw, and Hearts, after teaching some of Jeffery's friends, and Taalan challenged all comers to Chinese Chess. We finally got back to our hotel room around 10:30 for a cold-water-only shower and a refreshing sleep.
The next morning we arrived at Jeffery's brother's at 9:00. The plan was to go to the river, visit a beautiful bridge, and then head off to a nice park. Inevitably, it didn't happen as planned. We finally left for the river at 10:00 only to then sit at a small outdoor cafe overlooking the river for an hour playing cards and chatting. A short walk along the river brought us to another small cafe with swinging seat where we again stopped, played cards, and ate watermelon. Finally we piled into two taxis and headed to a restaurant downtown where we had a large lunch. Then it was on to yet another aunt's home, where we spent the afternoon eating watermelon and playing cards. The only way I could graciously get out of having to constantly eat was to laugh and claim that I was getting too "pangpang" -- a humorous way of saying "chubby." Everyone would then laugh and stop offering me more, for the moment.
Jeffery's aunt and uncle had lived in their house for over 20 years. The uncle had been a factory worker until he was laid off three years ago during a downsizing. Since then they have struggled to make ends meet. Their oldest daughter was still working at the factory, so she helped with the finances a lot. She had a little boy who was four. There were three grandchildren in that family, all living the one home. By the time we left there were probably 30 children squeezed into the rooms, with many of their parents gathered outside. It was a wonderful old-style, multi-family two- storey house, made of the plain, cheap bricks that are so common in China. The front half of the first floor was shared by another family, and we met the old man who lived there. He spent his time sitting in a bamboo reclining chair. He appeared very old and didn't speak to us, but had a wonderful smile whenever we tried to speak to him. The back of the first floor was the aunt's home. It was very clean and tidy, sparsely furnished with good quality wooden armoires, a bed, and dressers. Behind the two main rooms was a narrow alley, about four feet in width that was mostly covered over with sheet metal. In the back was a separate kitchen, a small very neat clean room with a tin roof. There was a small covered courtyard, and another small room on the other side. These all backed onto a stone retaining wall that supported the hillside behind. The back rooms were shady and cool, with a breeze blowing through, not fancy but comfortable, and obviously where most of the living was done. After visiting for a short while we went back to the hotel for a rest and then returned later in the evening for dinner. Again the food was delicious. By now everyone believed we were truly vegetarian. It can be quite awkward to eat only rice without offending the host's hospitality. We had a lovely evening and enjoyed a refreshing walk back to the hotel before our final day in Shaoyang.
Shaoyang is a relatively small town in the southern part of Hunan. It does not have a college or any foreign enterprises. Though in the past it was an important city due to the river trade, it is now off the beaten track. It is one of the cleaner cities we have seen in China, other than the major tourist areas. The main streets are wide and well paved. The hotel we stayed in was the nicest we have stayed in, being newly renovated and very modestly priced. All in all, it is a pleasant city that sees few, if any, foreigners. When we first arrived at the Shaoyang train station, crowds surged around us, asking questions that Jeffery patiently answered. This phenomenon never ceased during our whole trip. People would come from everywhere to look at us, comment, ask questions, and touch the children's hair. We had experienced this attraction in Xiangtan when we first arrived, but our novelty has worn off in our home town. In Shaoyang if we stopped for the briefest moment, the crowds would gather; even traffic seemed to stop. Children especially would gather and follow us, as if we were Pied Pipers. "Hallooo" echoed constantly from all sides, as if we were inside the parrot cage at the zoo. Even the simplest purchase in the market created a mob scene. We bore all of this as best we could, smiling and trying to act naturally.
Jeffery arrived at our hotel on the last morning to announce that today was just for us. No relatives, no plans, just whatever we wanted to do. He had been as overwhelmed with the relatives as we were. His parents worked in another city many hours away, so he had nowhere to stay except with relatives. We decided to go to the park and relax. It was quiet and had small paths and woods. Tariqa had a ride on a horse, and the children played on some playground equipment. We went on a paddle boat in the little lake and had fun weaving around the lake. We retrieved Taalan's backpack from the brother's house and headed off to the train station. Everyone at the station crowded around us again, only to find we were not leaving town at the moment, but meeting someone.
Ernest, a second-year student at our college, also had invited us to visit his hometown. His train arrived on schedule and we found a small restaurant nearby that had an overhead fan. It was mid-afternoon and sweltering. Within a few minutes, the fan stopped working; the power had gone off in that part of town. We sweltered some more as we waited for the food to arrive. After a fine meal we rose to leave and asked the proprietor for the check. He quoted a total that was excessively high. Jeffery was incensed. In the finest Chinese tradition of belligerent indignation, he argued loudly with the man. Finally he tossed down about half of what the man had charged us. The man tossed the money back, showing he would rather feed us for free than accept such a low payment. Budding diplomats that we are, Tim picked up the cash, added a few bills to the wad, and persuaded the owner to accept it with our thanks and our good foreign will. When we finally turned our backs on him, he was still smiling.
We walked back into the sunshine and piled onto the local bus to go to the long- distance bus station. There we booked tickets for the 5-hour ride to Ernest's hometown of Wugan, which is southwest of Shaoyang. Jeffery and Linda fulfilled their trust and saw us safely onto the bus, amidst goodbyes and hugs, before relinquishing us into Ernest's capable hands.
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