China still consistently amazes me with scenes that I would never expect or imagine. Here is a collection of images and events that I have jotted down during the last few weeks.
Yesterday I was walking through a market in town and passed an area where different dried herbs and spices had been laid out for sale. My attention was drawn to a pile of dried, shed snake skins. Some were more than an inch in diameter, and there were hundreds of them. I couldn't help wondering how the seller came across so many snake skins, each one thin as tissue paper and semi-translucent like greased paper. What on earth people would want to buy and use them for? Probably some kind of medicine, though I certainly wouldn't want to take it.
On my way home, the bus was only semi-full. That is, the seats were all taken but there were only a few people standing. Usually more people stand than sit, all packed in like sardines. Across from me sat an elderly lady and gentleman with their purchases from the local market. As we jolted along a particularly rough part of the road, a 2-foot-long catfish suddenly appeared in our midst, squirming vigorously down the aisle towards the door of the bus. In China, people like to buy live fish for dinner and carry them in plastic bags with a little water in the bottom. Catfish have amazing staying power, losing little strength even under trying circumstances. As the fish flailed his way down the aisle, the lady cried out something that propelled the gentleman to pounce on the fish. The fish was so big that it was difficult for the man to grab it. Meanwhile the bus continued its jerking progress down the lane, with the man kneeling in the aisle as he struggled with the fish. Finally it was constricted back into the bag and the man returned to his seat. He looked in dismay at his hands, covered in dirt and fish slime. I took pity and handed him several tissues, which he gratefully used while his wife tightly clutched the bag. Just as they were getting ready to leave the bus, from nowhere the fish flopped onto the floor again. I was looking at the bag at the time and didn't even see it escape. The bag seemed to be well closed, but apparently there were not one but two large fish in this little grocery bag, and that gave one fish leverage enough to propel itself out backwards through the hole in the top. Again man and fish struggled mightily until the fish was recaptured; this time they twisted the handles of the bag securely around its tail. With a grin from me and a wave from them, they left the bus and walked off. I hope they didn't have far to go to their home or they may have lost half their dinner on the way. That catfish was certainly not convinced that the battle was lost.
Another day I was waiting for the bus to take me back to the campus. The street was busy with many bicycles, cars, trucks, buses, motorcycles, and pedestrians. Two men started shouting and waving to get the attention of a passing bus, with no effect. One of the men ran after the bus, caught up to it, grabbed onto the door, and jumped onto the side of the bus, hanging on desperately as it continued down the street. I wonder whether he simply wasn't thinking or didn't care what his fate was. Maybe he just wanted to make his presence known. Ignoring the performance, the bus driver finally pulled in at his accustomed stop, half a block away. Without giving anyone a chance to get off, the man jumped down and immediately pushed his way up the steps and onto the bus. His friend quietly ran up and hopped on without incident.
Earnest came to visit the other day. He is from a very poor farming community. In fact, he is the first person in the history of his village to pass the entrance exam or enter college. For the past three years he has worked part-time to earn money for food. The university hires students for 100 yuan ($12) a month. They clean classrooms, mop halls, change the community newspaper daily, do outdoor maintenance, help in the offices, and move furniture. Last year Earnest was hired by the Foreign Affairs office to help meet the needs of the foreign teachers. When he arrived back at college this semester, he checked in with his boss and was told that he still had his job. When he went to register for classes, though, his department head told him that he could not work this semester. There were over 2,000 new freshmen this year and the department only had 60 jobs available. He would have to give up his job so someone else could have it. Without the job he had no money for food, so he was, needless to say, a little upset. As he talked with me, the whole story gradually came out. I couldn't believe it. I suggested that he do something about it; after all, his boss wanted him to work, not someone else. He got up his courage, went to see his boss, and explained the situation. Apparently his boss had words with the department head and his job was returned to him, so he will eat in the coming months.
Today is Teacher's Day. As usual the university brought us a gift of moon cakes. They are a tradition for Mid-Autumn Festival, which will be celebrated in a few days. We were given six small round cakes, about 1.5 inches in diameter and an inch high, and two large ones, each 3 inches in diameter. They are filled with rose-bean paste, cantaloupe jelly, or lotus paste. Moon cakes are one of the most expensive food items you can buy, but everyone buys them at this time of year. These 8 cakes came in fancy individual cartons, all within a fancy box, and cost 128 yuan for the box. Taalan has heard of one moon cake with special nuts inside that sells for 75 yuan apiece. It seems crazy to us, but they sell like hotcakes. Maybe we could afford it, but why would anyone pay so much for three little bites of cake? I buy the 1-yuan variety filled with fruit jelly, which we all agree is our favorite in both taste and price. Later I heard of some large moon cakes, about nine inches in diameter and with a filling laced with red wine, that actually sell for 1500 yuan. That is correct, almost $200 US dollars for a cake.
Another tradition of Teacher's Day is that students make gifts or phone calls to their past and present teachers. Last year's students began to phone early this morning; I haven't started teaching this semester yet. Five students called me during the day, all of them boys. Bless their hearts, they are so sweet. In the middle of the afternoon I received another phone call. It was the Foreign Affairs office, informing me they were taking us out to dinner. It was a good thing I had nothing else planned; it's typical to have very short notice. We all trooped off to a wonderful dinner of 15 dishes of fish, pork, beef, soups and vegetables. The vegetables are generally served last, so the three of us who were vegetarian, Tariqa, Emily, and myself, nibbled on two small dishes during most of the meal. Taalan had elected to stay home as his foot was sore and he wanted to save it to climb the six double flights of stairs to his friend's birthday party later that evening. Forty minutes after the meal began, the vegetables finally arrived. As we were digging into a green spinach dish Alfa, the foreign teacher from Hong Kong, exclaimed, "A cockroach!" Yes, there was a large and dead, thank goodness, cockroach in her greens. Of course there were horrified apologies as the dish was whisked away. We foreigners made the usual jokes about the worm in the apple, extra protein, it not eating much, etc. That really livened up the evening. I think the Chinese were a little surprised that we handled the situation with tongue-in-cheek humor instead of making a huge issue of face. The evening ended with laughter all around and everyone was reluctant to depart. I arrived home to a ringing telephone; two more of my sweet boys were calling to wish me a happy Teacher's Day and make appointments to visit on Sunday. All in all it was a nice way to spend the day.
The people of China are generally delightful. We have become close friends with a Chinese family living in Xiangtan. Whenever we have problems, our friend Frank comes to the rescue. He has a unique sense of humor and way of relating to China. Yesterday I had to ask Frank for help, again. Taalan needed medical care and as usual I was getting mixed information from the doctors. After deciding to give Taalan a series of IVs instead of an operation, we headed downstairs to the children's ward. While waiting to begin the IV, Frank was talking with the nurses. It is very common in China to ask a person's age as a topic of conversation. All the nurses burst out laughing at something Frank said. When I asked Earnest what was going on, he said that Frank was talking about my age. When asked, Frank had said that I was 28 (much younger than my 40-plus years). The nurses commented on my graying hair in someone so "young." Frank immediately answered, "If you used your brains as much as she did, your hair would be gray, too." Everyone roared.
Yesterday I was in the Xin Lian Xin, or Heart to Heart, as the new grocery store on our campus is called. There were only two cashiers and as it was an important holiday, many people were purchasing items in the store. Each line had about 15 people waiting to check out. As I crept forward in line, I watched someone around my age carefully inspect what looked like barbequed, hot-pepper-spiced, chicken necks. In the adjoining trays were chicken beaks and feet. She lifted out one neck after another, turning them around and then returning them to the tray. Finally she selected one neck, popped it into a bag, and had it weighed. She then headed to the line. Very politely she tapped a young woman on the shoulder and said something to her. I presumed she was asking to go through the line as the young woman stepped back a little to let her pass. I was impressed by the courtesy of both ladies; usually the Chinese tend to just push their way through. Then I suddenly realized that she was actually cutting in front of the woman in line. She ended up third from the register, with 10 people behind her. I can only shake my head at the sheer audacity of the woman.
Walking into the hospital for Taalan's IV drip today, a poster jumped out at me. We were in the children's area. Near the main reception desk was a 4-by-6-foot framed picture. The left side of the photo showed a pair of bare breasts, and not much else. The right side showed a baby sitting and reaching out his finger to touch the nipples of the breasts. It seemed a singularly odd thing to have on the wall in a children's ward. Perhaps it is supposed to encourage breast feeding, but I will never know. No one else seems to notice it.
I have been learning the Chinese characters that Tariqa is studying in second grade. She learns simply by listening to the teacher and memorizing the passages. Often if I ask her what a passage says, she can't translate it into English, so I have to look up the meanings of the characters and try to figure it out from that. Tariqa usually comes away with a much better understanding than I do. The Chinese are fond of four-character idioms that are difficult for foreigners to unravel. The other day I encountered the phrase "hua she tian zu," which translates literally as "paint a snake with feet added to it." The figurative meaning is that you "ruin the effect by adding what is superfluous."
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