TheBanyanTree: Christmas in Pingguo - Part 3

[Pat M]

I was asleep all the way back to Pingguo but retained just enough
consciousness to know we were arriving.

"We're here," I said to Alex as I yawned and stretched.

She opened her eyes and sat up in her seat.

After we got off the bus Alex stood on the sidewalk as if lost. She didn't
seem to know what to do.

"How will we get back?" I finally said, hoping to get her moving. "Will you
call Grandfather or will we take one of those," I pointed to one of many
unoccupied 3-wheeled motorcycle cars parked next to the curb.
Alex phoned the orphanage and then made another call.  She said, "I no feel
good. I call my sister. I no go back. I go see doctor."
Alex had the same terrible cough I had. I was firmly convinced it was viral
and doubted the doctor could do anything for her, but kept my thoughts to
myself. Never underestimate the placebo effect.

As we waited on the busy sidewalk, a young Chinese man and woman approached
me. The man said, "Miss Pat?"

"Yes?" (What a surprise! Someone in Pingguo knew me?)

"I am Peter. I have a language school in Pingguo. Owen told me you would
call," he said in near-perfect English. "I phoned the orphanage last night
but you weren't in."
"We just got back from a Christmas party in Nanning."
"I know, I know. I want to talk to you."

(Recently, our Peter told me that during Spring Festival and for the months
of July and August all of the children would leave the orphanage to spend
time with their extended families. None of these children have parents but
they have other relatives who are either mentally incompetent, physically
ill, too poor or too old to adequately provide for or care for them in the
long term.

When I'd made my one year commitment to Ron, I hadn't known I'd have
holidays. How nice! With my time off, I wanted to do some traveling but I
also wanted to make a little money to cover my living expenses. I'd written
an email to Owen Buckland, the owner of the company I taught for last year,
expressing interest in teaching during the holidays if I could get the right
visa. He'd written back with the name and phone number of a friend in
Pingguo who had a language school--the man who'd just introduced himself to
me--and suggested I call.)

"I have to change my visa so that I can legally teach," I said. "I was going
to contact you after that."

"Maybe I will come to the orphanage tonight to talk to you.

"Tonight we're having a Christmas party for the children and I'll be busy
organizing the games," I said.

"Maybe I will come to your Christmas party," he said. (I thought he was very
presumptuous to invite himself.) "On Saturday night, there will be a
Christmas party at my school. Would you like to come? I like the students to
be in contact with as many foreigners as possible. Steve and his family will
be there. You know Steve, don't you? They are foreigners."
"No, I don't, but I heard there was a family of foreigners in Pingguo" I
said, thinking it would be nice to meet them. "I'm just getting over a bad
cough. If I'm feeling okay, I'll come," I said.
"I'll call you," he said

A few minutes later, Grandfather and Peter arrived. We left Alex behind
waiting for her sister.

On the way, Peter said, "We must stop. I have to make a hotel reservation
for Ron and Pat."

Grandfather parked in front of the Pingguo International Hotel which was
clean and modern—no doubt the best hotel in town.
"Maybe I will be a long time," Peter said as he hopped out of the van.
I slid open the side door of the van to catch the breeze. I find it amazing
how quickly temperatures can change here. Yesterday I'd needed long johns
and a down coat. Today was tanning weather.
It took Peter fifteen minutes to make the room reservation. For some reason,
everything takes twice as long in China. There is always double or triple
the paperwork to do anything and every page must be red stamped to make it
official. Even .15 local bus tickets have an official red stamp on them.
When I recently opened a bank account at the Bank of China, it took twenty
minutes because of the volume of forms. (Speaking of banks, I don't think
I've mentioned that many tellers use an abacus rather than a calculator,
which I find quite fascinating.)
On the outskirts of town, we slowed as a woman led a Brahma cow across the
street in front of us.  On the roadside, vendors sat next to push carts
heaped with mandarin oranges. Everything here is sold by 500 gram measures
called 'jian'. The current going price for oranges is 1.5 yuan or about
CAD.27 per jian, cheap by Canadian standards but too expensive for many
villagers and too costly for the orphanage to buy except for special
occasions.
"Ron is leaving tomorrow," I said to Peter as we neared the orphanage. "We
need to deal with my visa problem this afternoon."

"Don't worry," Peter said. "Ron has already made an appointment to see a
government official at 3:00 o'clock."

When we arrived, I immediately went to find Ron and Pat. (They had taken an
early train from Nanning to Pingguo.) I found Pat in the office checking her
email. Ron was doing some sweeping.

"Do I need to go to the Public Security Bureau with you?" I asked.

"Peter and I are meeting someone at the Department of Civil Affairs," he
said. "You don't need to come."

We chatted for a few minutes and then I headed to my room and climbed into
bed. I needed some sleep if I were to have energy for the Christmas party.
I dozed for a couple of hours. It was almost suppertime when I got
up and went to find Ron. As I suspected, nothing had been accomplished at
the meeting. The local office had referred him to Baise (pronounced Bi Suh),
a city to the northwest of Pingguo. The clock was ticking. This needed to be
dealt with before Spring Festival at the end of January when the entire
country came to a stand still to celebrate Chinese New Year. Ron told me
that Peter would make some phone calls to Baise on Monday.
I went to check on Christmas dinner. I'd come up with a new idea for our
Christmas Day meal and had given Peter 500 yuan or $CAD90 (some of the $400
sent from Canada by my relatives) to buy meat, sweet buns, one apple and two
oranges for everyone as well as sacks of sunflower seeds, raisins and
peanuts in the shell to be shared.
There is no turkey in China (to the best of my knowledge and experience) and
even if I'd been able to find one, we wouldn't have been able to roast it.
The Chinese don't have ovens. Whatever we bought had to be cooked in the
wok, boiled or pressure cooked so I'd decided to buy 15 kg of beef to make a
stew. When I asked Peter what he thought of the idea he said, "In this area,
the people prefer pig or dog but I think it's a good idea."

When he priced beef for me though, it was nearly double the price of pork.
Pork was much better value for money so that's what we had. I gave Peter
written instructions (and explained them) on how I wanted Chen Bing to cook
it. Usually Chen Bing boiled chunks of pork fat in with the cabbage. I
requested he cut the meat into 1" cubes, dip it in flour, brown it and cook
it in the pressure cooker with green peppers, fresh tomatoes, water and
copious amounts of onions and garlic.  I wrote, "No cabbage" and underlined
it twice. (At this point, I would be happy if I never saw cabbage again!) I
provided 2 small bottles of Heinz ketchup from the supermarket for flavour.

Peter had spoken with Chen Bing and then come back to me to say that it was
going to take too long to make the meat the way I suggested, but I was firm.
I said, "I spent a lot of money on the meat and I want it to be cooked a
special way. It's Christmas. I don't want it boiled." Later Peter told me
that Chen Bing would 'try' to make it the way I asked.

Now, I'd find out how Chen Bing made out. Even before I reached the dining
room I could smell it and it tasted just as good as it smelled. The pork
stew was served on top of white rice (which is served for every meal). What
a treat for the children to actually get many chunks of meat in their bowl
and what a treat to me! Ron, Pat and I sat with the children. Many children
came to say, "Thank you Auntie. It's delicious (in Chinese)." I enjoyed two
servings and made sure to compliment Chen Bing.

"Haochi, haochi, haochi! (Delicious, delicious, delicious!)" I raved, and he
beamed from ear to ear. Chen Bing, I recently found out, is only 18 years
old and he grew up in another of Agape's orphanages. I haven't asked but I
suspect he had no cooking experience before working here.

Ron wasn't feeling well so he and Pat left for the hotel right after dinner.
I think Peter and the children were disappointed they weren't staying to
attend our Christmas party.
The party started at 7:00 pm and was a lot of fun. The room was decorated
with the snowflakes I'd taught the children to make as well as many coloured
balloons. (We had a decorating party a few evenings ago.) It was very
festive, even without a Christmas tree.
Peter told a long story about sharing (Doris, a new worker, translated for
me). The boys had some wrestling matches and the winner received a prize. I
sang English songs with the children and organized sack races using large
plastic rice bags. The children were grouped by grade. No one knew what a
sack race was until I showed them what to do. The children's joyful
expressions as they hopped toward the finish line made my day.
At 8:00, to my surprise Peter from the language school and five women
(Chinese English teachers) arrived. One little boy was giving a speech and
it was interrupted by our new attendees. No one except me knew who they were
so I tiptoed to the door to greet them. Some children gave up their chairs
so they could sit. There were a lot of curious glances. I was glad I'd told
our Peter that we might get visitors (and that I hadn't invited them.)  Peter
(from the language school) later dressed up as Santa and gave each child a
notebook and a pencil. His intentions were good but I felt uncomfortable
about his brazenness to come without an invitation and to bring so many
people with him. I knew he hoped I would teach at his school. Foreign
teachers are especially hard to find in rural areas such as Pingguo. Having
one would draw many more students and much higher profits.
In addition to the Christmas theme, we also celebrated the December
birthdays and enjoyed two large sponge cakes. I introduced the two Peters to
each other. Peter and his entourage left early. Before going, he invited me
and three children to the language school's Christmas party.  As an
afterthought, he added our Peter to the list. He told me he'd send a car for
us and would phone to firm up plans.
At the end of the evening, with the help of some children we doled out the
fruit and other treats I'd purchased.  Many children came over to say thank
you.
Christmas Day was over but the celebrations weren't over yet.
*****
Pingguo China 2008 photos can be viewed at
http://picasaweb.google.com/Ms.Pat.Martin/Pingguo#