TheBanyanTree: Mid-April 2009

[Pat M]

It is so different here. I ride the little buses that run back and forth to
downtown Pingguo a couple of times a week now and to my surprise they’re
catching on.  There aren’t many passenger s this far out of town but when we
get within the city boundaries, more and more people are riding them. It
seems that the one yuan charge (about twenty cents) is half of what the
other city buses charge, so maybe a bus every five minutes isn’t folly after
all. There are only 9 seats on the tiny buses but nowadays they are often
full, and sometimes there are standing passengers.

I am an object of much curiosity, especially to the older Chinese women.
They often try to talk to me. When I tell them, “Ting bu dong (I’m listening
but I don’t understand,”  they chatter away about me. I think they must be
speculating about what I am doing in China. Perhaps they are a little in awe
of a foreign woman traveling by herself when she isn’t able to speak the
language.
On my latest return trip, an older woman got on the bus with a large rooster
in her arms. It wasn’t in a bamboo cage as is most often the case.  I was
seated on one of the back seats and she sat down beside me and set her
rooster down on the floor next to my feet.  Its legs were tied together, but
it tried to escape, squawking and stumbling. She patiently put it back next
to my feet. I was a little edgy that it might peck my toes (I was wearing
sandals), but it finally settled down. Unlike the miserable soon-for-the-pot
rooster that  rested at my feet, I wore a little smile all the way
home.Only in China...
I also get a chuckle when I wear one of my ankle-length dresses with a side
slit—just a little slit for ease of movement. This style is common in the
west, but unheard of here. Every time I wear one of them several children
come to tell me that my dress needs to be mended.  I tell them that it
doesn’t matter but they are adamant and must think I am slovenly.

An American family with 3 children lives in Pingguo (they’ve returned to the
US now but plan to return in September.) They’ve lived in Pingguo for over a
year. Before leaving, the woman, Nikki took me to the market and showed me
where I could buy Miracle Whip, Skippy peanut butter, tomato paste and
sometimes Campbell’s soup.  (There were a couple of rusty tins of oxtail
soup on the bare plank shelf, but the shopkeeper waved me away from them.)
Nikki also introduced me to a woman in the market who has agreed to sell
chicken breasts.  Nikki and her husband studied Chinese in Nanning for a
year before moving to Pingguo, and their Chinese language skills are very
good. Nikki was able to convince the woman to sell her the breasts only,
something not done here. I am so glad because now I can buy them. I usually
buy three at a time, cut them in half and freeze them.

I still feel a little guilty about eating better food than the kids, but
it’s important I stay healthy. I am careful to cook the chicken when the
children are in school, so they don’t smell it.  I’ve just started to buy
lettuce and other vegetables. I disinfect them in a basin of tap water with
a little bleach in it on my bedroom floor and rinse them in another basin  of
cooled boiled water. Sometimes I make a salad for myself.  I decided that it
doesn’t matter if the children see me eat it; it is more important that I
join them for supper.  Every time I eat salad a gang of kids comes over to
gawk. They’ve never seen salad and are horrified that I eat raw vegetables,
especially celery. They pinch their noses and wave their hands at me. They
think celery stinks. I say, “Wo: hao chu (I : delicious); nimen: bu hao chu
(you: not delicious). They’d never seen mayonnaise, black pepper or cherry
tomatoes until they looked into my bowl.

It has taken me such a long time to feel comfortable doing my shopping in
the open market. It’s a chaotic and intimidating place. There are so many
vendors selling the same things, so many curious eyes. I’ve realized that
the best way to shop is to return to the same sellers every time I shop.
Once you’re a regular, they give you a better price and are more helpful.  The
farmers work very hard but make next to nothing for their produce. They
might sit all day with a basket of leafy greens and only make $2.00 gross.

One evening recently, I heard penetrating music playing in the village that
abuts the orphanage. It was some type of wind instrument that made a
squealing sound. The girls called me over to the dorm window to look.  It
was dark but I could make out the vague shapes of a group of men playing
instruments in the blackness.  I didn’t know what or why and the children
couldn’t tell me. The procession of men walked along the back lane playing
an eerie repetitive song.  I later found out that someone had died and that
it is a tradition to play music and set off firecrackers for several days
afterwards to ward off evil spirits. And that is just what happened. For
three days and nights we heard the music. It played past my bedtime and
disturbed my sleep.

Not long afterwards, I saw a hub of activity across the street. Villagers in
straw hats arrived on foot from all directions, cut across the rice paddies
outside the fence and headed up the hill. All day I heard the rat-a-tat of
firecrackers.  When I looked again, I saw that many stakes with white
streamers had been planted in the ground from the bottom to the top of the
hill.  They billowed in a light breeze. When I asked about it, I was told it
was Tomb Sweeping day, Qing Ming Jie Festival, a public holiday in China
when people honour their ancestors and clean up the grave sites. They tend
to any underbrush that has grown, pull weeds and sweep. They make offerings
of food and spirit money. The rites are very important to most Chinese,
especially farmers. Many believe that if the ancestors’ souls are not
properly cared for they will become ghosts that cause trouble for the
living.

I hadn’t known the hill across the road was a cemetery as no tombstones are
visible from the road and it is covered in natural vegetation. At the end of
the day when everyone had gone home I visited the hillside and amongst the
tall grass and brush, I saw the tombstones and high mounds of earth.

In China, burial is illegal and cremation is mandatory, but in villages like
Pingguo, people don’t worry about the law. In larger places, if the
authorities find out there has been a burial, they’ve been known to exhume
the body and have it cremated.

Wesley’s House (the orphanage) is a Christian orphanage, and I have always
wondered why there is no mention of the Bible or any other religious
teachings here. The children do not pray before their meals as they did in
Guatemala.  Only recently I found out why.  It is illegal to provide any
religious information to or in any way influence children under the age of
18.  At that time, they are considered adults and can make their own choices
about what to believe.  The original basic religion in China is ancestor
worship. Buddhism is the largest organized religion in China, but many
others are practiced, including Christianity.

While out on a walk with the children and Peter one day, we’d come across a
cave near the road. It was about 20 feet up a rock face and not easy to
access. The children told Peter (who told me) that it was a burial site. I
could see candles and other decorations inside it and was about to point to
it when some of the children became very upset. They said something to Peter
and he translated. Had I pointed to the grave site, the rest of my life
would have been miserable, and I would have been cursed with bad luck, they
said.

Much like the Mayan peasants in Guatemala, the villagers in China are very
superstitious. One of the girls here took time off school to attend a
ceremony to appease the spirits. There had been a lot of misfortune and
death in her family and her relatives wanted to make things right.

Yes, life is very different from back home, and it never gets boring.

-- 
Pat

Pingguo China 2008 photos can be viewed at
http://picasaweb.google.com/Ms.Pat.Martin/Pingguo#