A Typical Chinese Female Peasant (by Iris)

I am teaching writing this semester, and I absolutely love it. I am in the midst of grading descriptive essays and just finished reading a very touching piece one student wrote about her mother. Enjoy :)


"My Mother, a Typical Chinese Female Peasant" by Iris

My mother, who is nearly sixty now, is a typical Chinese female peasant. Day after day, she toils and moils in the field. Being very pessimistic, she is always feeling sad. However, she loves me so much that she spares no effort to encourage me to face difficulties in my study and my life optimistically and bravely.

After years of hard work, she is skeleton thin. Her face is without flesh. It looks like a skeleton which was covered by a piece of gray skin. The bones in both her cheeks are noticeably protruding. Her eyes, filled with sadness, can only show some signs of happiness when she hears my good news. Wrinkles spring up on her forehead and become denser with age. Her lips are pale white. When she shows her teeth one can see how black they are, covered by dirty things calculated year after year. Because she never brushes her teeth. There is no such thing as tooth brush or tooth paste in her mind. And her hands make me think of dried tree branches. And her neck, because of an accident in her childhood, is deformed and bends towards the left side.

This is not an attractive image, absolutely. But I admire her. It is her skinny hands that give my brother and me great support. Now, being far apart from her, she misses me very much. Once I called her on the line, she cried uncontrollably. I was thinking whether to go home or not during the QingMing Festival. She said in a sullen voice, "My dear, come back. I miss you too much." She had some problem with her body. But when I arrived home, she said happily, "When you come back, my illness goes away immediately." Hearing this, I sobbed. I can't give her company for the sake of my study.

As time flies, I am worried about her health. She is skinny. Any disease may take her away from me. I hope that day will never come.

Humbled by Hessler

Peter Hessler is the pride and joy of Fuling, at least as far as my site mate and I are concerned. After reading his book, River Town, and comparing his experiences with my own, I couldn't help but wonder if such big disparities exist not so much because times have transformed this town, but that he and I just see the world entirely differently.

I tend to think books do change the world, that words do set change into motion. But should change be the purpose of writing? After half a year of Peace Corps service, a humbling experience in and of itself, I can't say that I disagree with Peter Hessler's opinion on this matter:

taken from http://urbanatomy.com/index.php/arts/why-i-write/2770-why-i-write-peter-hessler


Does writing change anything?
To be honest, I don’t care, not in the strictest sense. I’ve never been a political person; I tend to get bored when people talk about policy and big-picture things. I suppose that my time in the Peace Corps made me more realistic about a person’s impact, and more cynical about a certain type of idealism.

But Americans are attached to this idea, especially with regard to the developing world. You look at the books that sell well in the States, the best-selling books about poor places, and they tend to be about a foreigner who is trying to save people. You have Three Cups of Tea or Mountains Beyond Mountains. Individually these books can be great, and they tell important stories, but it concerns me a little that this approach tends to dominate the bestseller readership with regard to the developing world. The other main option is books about atrocities – child soldiers, or sex slaves, or things like that.

I wonder about the impact of these books, and I wonder about the vision they promote of the developing world. Americans seem to read these books and conclude: Thank God I was born in the good old U.S. of A. instead of in some crazy country like this. Or they think, We really need to fix these places. They conclude that if you’re going to live overseas, you need to be either a saint or insane. There’s no sense of normal life in a developing country – no sense that you might live in one of these places and have an enjoyable life, and make friends you respect and like. Obviously, there are some countries where it’s just not possible to live a normal life, because things are so troubled – but these places tend to dominate our perception of the world; they are represented disproportionately.

As a result there’s no real connection with the people, not in terms of understanding them and being able to put yourself in their shoes. These books don’t come out of a deep anthropological instinct. The basic interest is more along the lines of changing the world than understanding the world. But this has always been the classic American weakness beyond its borders. People want to get involved, and they want to change the world, but they don’t want to be patient. And they aren’t inclined to grant others the dignity of figuring out their own path.

One thing I liked about being in China was that I couldn’t over-estimate my significance, either as a teacher or as a writer. When I arrived with the Peace Corps, the country was clearly going its own way, and that’s still the case. Foreigners have some impact, but they aren’t guiding the country, and it’s not a playground for NGOs like so many parts of the world. The state-level stuff is of questionable value. When a head of state like Obama goes to Beijing, he’s performing certain rituals that are part of big-picture politics, but he’s not making a lot of earth-shattering decisions that will change China. In a sense, he has a lot less leeway than a migrant going to Dongguan looking for a factory job. So as a writer you’re best off sticking with that migrant or somebody like him; you should try to understand Chinese people. You try to figure out their stories and their motivations, and you try to write in an artful way. As far as I’m concerned, that’s enough. Good writing should enlighten and entertain, and it should have some quality of art. But it doesn’t have to change policy or raise funds for a cause. Plenty of other people are trying to change the world, often in heavy-handed ways that do as much harm as good.

But perhaps Jung Chang, author of the fantastic Wild Swans, gave the best answer:

Does writing change anything?
Yes, my life.

Xiexie Day

It's Thanksgiving Day in America, and I'm doing everything I can to keep from conjuring up images of KTA's roasted turkey and Aunty Judy's pumkin pie. My mouth is watering not only because I really wish I could be at home for this holiday, but because I am seriously hungry.

For the past couple of days, I haven't been able to hold down my food, thanks to some kind of bug that has made me feel quite seasick. I felt so queasy yesterday that I left my class early to celebrate the rest of Thanksgiving by wallowing in misery in the comfort of my bed. You know how misery is - it makes you forget the many things you should be thankful for.

After sleeping all afternoon, I got a call from one of my students. Our conversation went something like this,

"Where are you?" she demanded.
"Um, hi.. I am in bed."
"Yes, I hear you are sick. I will see you at 5 o'clock!"
"Huh? Okay, see you."

I fell asleep again and was awakened by tiny fists raising havoc on my door. I rushed over in my fleece pajamas and hot pink house boots, not giving a damn that I looked more like a ten year old than a teacher. I opened the door and in rushed two of my students. They brought with them a bowl of hot noodles, a bag of apples and pears, and their dinners.

"We have come to celebrate with you!"
They ordered me to eat the bowl of noodles, saying that it would make me feel much better. Obediently, I carefully slurped down the salty noodles as they downed their bowls of spicy dumplings. Who knows, perhaps sickness is partly a state of mind, for by the end of the evening, I actually did feel a little better - while I wasn't able to hold down those noodles, I was reminded of how thankful I am to have such sweet students.

So while my Thanksgiving was not as gloriously festive as it usually is (although, I admit, I am guilty of romanticizing it), the holiday still did everything it was supposed to: it prompted me to give thanks. :)

Halloween Party II

The party went well. It really wouldn't have been possible if not for my committee of students, the Magnificent 7, as well as a few of their friends who helped set up and clean up. The Mag 7 did everything from helping me run the games, work the computer, bribe the room cleaners for an extra hour of electricity, and serve popcorn to the 200 guests.

When most of the students arrived, Kathy welcomed everyone and told them she had a special guest: Barack Obama. I walked in with my Obama mask, and the crowd went wild. Believe me, I am plenty vain enough to have thoroughly enjoyed that brief moment of superstar status. And I definitely did stand and wave for a full minute before delivering my presidential message.

After I was done basking in Obama's glory, we started the games. They were a mess, as the contestants either did not understand the directions, or chose to ignore them. I doubt the former, for I'm sure Kathy did a great job translating my instructions into Chinese. Regardless, the games were fun and the crowd seemed to enjoy them. During one of the balloon popping relay games, in which the point was to blow up a balloon and then pop it by sitting on it, one of the plastic stools broke, sending a contested hurtling onto the floor. The audience sure loved that, and luckily the girl was unhurt.

Once the games were through, we passed out popcorn to everyone. Yes, all of the 200 guests got popcorn. I bought a ton the day before in Fuling and spent a good part of the afternoon popping them, so you can imagine how thrilled I was that there were enough people to eat it all. Then I showed "Twilight," mostly because Edward is hot, and also because there were supposed to be Chinese subtitles. But as always happens in my classes, the computer system failed me and I could only get the English subtitles to work. So in the end, I lost about half of my guests. The ones who were stayed were those of my students most dedicated to mastering English, and I have a feeling that they stayed only because they didn't want to hurt my feelings by leaving. Or because Edward is really hot. :P

All in all, I would say the party was a success, but I am so, so glad that it's over with. Organizing an event is stressful when you lack guanxi and the ability to communicate directly with key people. In time, though, I'm sure it'll get easier.

Here's some pics:

Halloween party

I had no idea what I got myself into when I said "YES!" to a student to who asked for a Halloween Party. Heck, I'm all for sharing a holiday that celebrates freaks and creeps! But Halloween can a spooky thing when you're planning a party that will be attend by anywhere from 8 to more than 200 college students!

Just like in the scary stories I shared with my classes this week, party prep went horribly wrong. My site mate got called to Chengdu for PC duty :(. Then the administration said I couldn't use the big activities room and instead assigned me a lecture hall, due to which I had to scrap some of the games I had planned. Then the computer in that room wouldn't play any of my Halloween movies. It was turning into a nightmare.......

Until the Magnificent 7 saved the day.
The members: Yedda, Kathy, Rose, Olivia, Sandy, Izzy and Lily.
All of them are my students, and all of them are wonderful.

Lily's got guanxi, Yedda's a computer whiz, Kathy knows where to buy the necessary supplies. Sandy, Izzy, Rose and Olivia have pointed out things I overlooked, things I wouldn't have known to prepare for if not for their advice. The best thing is that they're all so willing to help. :)

I was going to treat them to dinner tomorrow to thank them, but then they asked to cook for me. Hah! I hope I didn't agree too quickly! So tomorrow, they're making jiaozi at my place.

I am still looking for game ideas, but so far I have 4:
Pumpkin bowling
Chubby Bunny
Footloose Balloon Pop
Balloon Squat Relay

Hopefully everyone will get a chance to play. Winners will get prizes - trick-or-treat bags, sent by Mom, stuffed with candy.

Also,there will be a costume contest IF students dress up, I will show "Hocus Pocus" IF (big, big IF!) the computer and projector work, and there will be popcorn for all IF Kathy can help me find some in Fuling tomorrow. I'm trying not to let all these IFs spook me!

hillbilly in the city

This past weekend I turned 22 - that's right, the PCV baby is finally older than her students!

My site mate told the students about my birthday, so the past week has been a sort of b-day parade, with them either singing or shouting birthday wishes in unison at the start of each class. Their thoughtfulness always makes me regret having to assign work, and never have I been more tempted to scratch a lesson than today.

As soon as the bell rang this morning, my students jumped out of their seats and broke out into song, then presented me with a HUGE, beautiful cake. After confirming that I am indeed swine flu-free (according to them, there are 4 confirmed cases at our school), they had me blow out the edible chocolate candles. Flustered, I then preceded to do a lesson in the format of a Jeopardy game, but just so that you don't think I'm totally ungrateful, I announced a longer-than-usual break, during which they devoured every bit of that cake. I left for a moment to speak with a student, and when I came back, it was gone! haha I wish I had taken pictures of them - you should have seen their frosting-covered smiles! :P

Over the weekend I was able to celebrate American-style with another PCV who is also born on the 17th. I met her and her city-mates, who came in from Guizhou province, in Chongqing city, where a generous PCV hosted us. I think the most suitable adjective for Chongqing is MASSIVE. I felt like such a country hick, so in awe was I of the sheer immensity of the city - the 30M people who live there, the buildings, the light rail, the swanky shops and clubs, etc. But it's not just huge. It's actually quite beautiful too, especially at night, when the lights are reflected in the many rivers that criss-cross throughout the city.

While in Chongqing, we went shopping for Western food items, went out to a fancy Indian restaurant, and went dancing. That's right, clubbing in the Peace Corps, baby. :) I think my favorite part of the weekend was when one of the PCVs cooked us breakfast. He made French toast and CHEESE omlettes! I have been craving cheese like crazy, and I swear, none of the stores in Fuling carry cheese.

But even though I was impressed by the enormity of the city and all of its Western products, I can't imagine living there. It's a great place for a hillbilly like me to visit, but I would never last there. Laid-back Lidu is the perfect fit for this lover of lazy afternoons. =)

If you can't already tell, I love the way my students write, and I love sharing cute messages. Here's two:

I heard that you will go to chongqing tomorrow. Have a good journey. And then I want to tell you something in advance. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! In fact, we hope that you could happy everyday as bright as your smile.Happy!

Happy birthday!
Today is also my birthday.It is wonderful that we have birthday at the same day.So today is a D-day,a happy D-day.

Reading Lolita in China

I can't help but follow the last post with a brief reflection on two recent reads, Azar Nafisi's Reading Lolita in Tehran and Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita. So skip this post if you're looking to read about anything that has to do with China! :P

"It is only through these empty rituals that brutality becomes possible," Nafisi writes in her memoir on her time in the Islamic Republic of Iran, lived and witnessed through the wide imaginative lenses of literature's finest. Habits, at least those that are hollowly performed, are fatal - in killing the mind, they obliterate reflection and creativity. What then, she seems to be asking, is to stop us from killing? Nabokov's term for this, Nafisi notes, is "poshlust." It denotes the "close relationship between banality and brutality."

An active mind requires much energy, and hegemony's poison, especially when offered in the form of convenience, is awfully tempting for lazy Wikipedia-reliant kids like me. Life would be much too rigorous if each experience was entirely void of familiarity, and certainly there is "good" to be found in tradition. But "good" rituals should be able to withstand our interrogation - they should not collapse from the mere puff of a question.

Nafisi exhibits yet another gem of Nabokov's: "curiosity is insubordination in its purest form." To wonder is to resist.

Later she backs this assertion, which I take to be the underlying "moral of the story," with a quip from Adorno: "The highest form of morality is not to feel at home in one's own home."

Fiction opens for us a book-sized window to morality because it "question[s] traditions and expectations when they seem too immutable." And what lies at the heart of morality? Empathy. Empathy allows us to live as someone else - not completely, but enough to make us uncomfortable, enough to provoke curiosity.

Strange how, while reading Nabokov's Lolita, I found myself empathizing with the narrator, a pedophile who lives entirely to rape his 12-year-old step-daughter. To my horror, there I was, internalizing the turmoil of the very character who epitomizes immorality. But this is merely a symptom of Nabokov's brilliance - in revealing the complexity of his characters, his words restore humanity, not only to the non-human Lolita, in her role as an object of perverted pleasure, but also to the inhuman Humbert.

As my students have the habit of saying, "in a word," Lolita is for me an extreme example of the power of the imagination.