TheBanyanTree: Mid-June, Preparing to Leave

[Pat M]

Shortly before leaving China, another incident with Peter prompted the
return of my dark mood. I was angry and fed up, and couldn’t talk myself out
of my feelings. My face is very expressive and people around me can easily
see how I feel, so I decided to stay out of sight--not completely, but I
took to staying in my room with the door closed more often than usual. I
didn’t want the children to think I was upset with them; I also thought it a
good idea to begin to wean them of my time and attention.

I was looking forward to completing my teaching for Endurance language
school. Every Saturday, I taught four classes but it took my entire day as I
taught in two locations. My students were from well-to-do families, most
were ‘only children’ and in one class in particular, they were unruly and
hard to handle. My feelings toward Peter were affecting everything including
my teaching. I still put a lot of time into preparing materials and lesson
plans, but my heart wasn’t into it any longer. I just wanted to go home.

The last day I taught formal English classes at Endurance was Saturday, June
13th. That evening I attended a congratulatory banquet put on by the school
because many of my students had entered a provincial English competition and
won their categories. Peter (from the school) and Vivian both told me that I
was the best teacher they’d ever met. The winning students, their parents,
Peter, Vivian and I gathered in a private room in a small restaurant. There
were two large tables of us—one for the adults and one for the children. I
didn’t care that I couldn’t socialize much because of the language barrier;
I was there for the food, which was plentiful and delicious. After eating at
the orphanage I really appreciate a good meal. It’s interesting though how
my definition of good food has changed. All of the dishes on the table were
things I’d never seen anywhere other than China. I didn’t know the names of
most of what I ate but I no longer cared.

Sam’s (one of my students) parents offered to drive me back to the orphanage
after dinner. They didn’t speak more than a few words of English so Miss
Yao, a Chinese English teacher accompanied us.  Before I got in the car they
had Peter ask me if I’d like to have dinner at their home the following
evening (Sunday).With so few days left in China, it surprised everyone when
I said yes. I decided that it would be the last invitation I accepted and
reserved Tuesday and Wednesday evenings to spend time with the children.
(I'd leave early Thursday, June  18, overnight in Nanning, fly to Guangzhou,
overnight and then head home on Korean Airlines, change planes in Seoul and
fly to Seattle, change to Air Canada and fly to Vancouver.)

My final class for Endurance was planned for Sunday.  Peter (from the
school) had arranged for my students to come to the orphanage for a tour.

Sunday morning shone bright, sunny and hot!  Not a whisper of wind offered
relief. A few minutes before ten, I unlocked the gate and pulled open the
high metal double doors in anticipation of my students’ arrival. A few
minutes later, two luxury cars purred into the compound and parked. As I
watched the children get out I couldn’t help but compare their lives to
those of the orphans. My English students are from wealthy families. Their
parents dote on them and they have never known hard work or hunger.

I led everyone to the dining room to wait for the others. Many carried bags
of clothes, books or foodstuffs to donate to the orphanage. Soon the rest of
the students and some parents arrived and joined us. I was pleased to see
our guests had thought to bring a case of bottled water with them as we had
nothing to offer other than boiling water from the machine. I had everyone
put their bags down before leading them on a tour of the orphanage and
school.

After the tour, it was too hot to play outdoor sports so I set up some
activities in the dining room. I thought it would be a good opportunity for
the orphans to show my students how to do origami and make friendship
bracelets. But most of the orphanage children did not participate; they hung
back and watched.

“I think the children are shy,” Dianna (one of my students) said.

I nodded. “Yes, maybe they are. They don’t have mommas and bubbas (fathers)
like you. Their lives are very different from yours,” I said.

Lunchtime at the orphanage is usually around 11 am, and I knew my students
planned to stay until 11:30 so I had arranged for lunch to be postponed.
There is a new cook at the orphanage however, and to my dismay, I saw him
preparing to serve lunch just after 11. Peter was at church so I quickly
found Alice and asked her to remind him to hold off.

The new man is middle-aged. He is short and small-boned but he walks tall.
>From his posture and demeanour I surmised he had been in the army. He is an
inflexible, fastidious man who prefers to follow a routine. When I saw him
preparing to call the children to eat, I shook my head at him. He pointed at
the clock which read 11:10. I shook my head again.  Alice then asked him to
wait (in Chinese) but ten minutes later he couldn’t help himself. He called
the children and began to serve lunch while our guests were there. How rude!
I found Peter (from the school) and said, “I told him not to serve lunch
until 11:30. Why didn’t he listen?  I am so frustrated!”

My students hastily packed up. Several of them gave me goodbye cards or
little notes. Several wanted their picture taken with me.

That evening, Peter (from the language school) and his girlfriend Vivian
took me to my student Sam’s home for dinner. He lives with his parents in a
luxury apartment that is tastefully furnished with expensive furniture and
has air conditioning. What a contrast to how the majority of Chinese live!
The food was awesome.  In addition to jiaozi (dumplings) there was roast
pork and even roast beef as well as cooked greens and fresh tropical fruit.
I didn’t mind that I didn’t understand most of the conversation; I was too
busy enjoying the meal.

I arrived home in the dark (close to 9 pm) and telephoned Peter (the leader)
to send someone to unlock the gate. The children should have been in bed,
but when the gate swung open I saw some twenty little girls waiting for me.
 “Auntie!” they shouted and rushed to me. Some threw their arms around me;
others grabbed my hands while yet another wanted to carry my purse. Who
wouldn’t be touched by such a greeting! So much love in their little hearts,
freely given and I was leaving them, unsure whether I’d return (because of
Peter.)

The rest of the week went quickly. The evening before I left, Alice
suggested we take some photos of me with the children. First, Jessica took
pictures of me with the girls in the dorm and then we went outside for
photos of me with all the children. Peter was sitting in the courtyard but
did not participate in organizing the children for the photos. He had called
a meeting with the children for 7 pm. Why?  A meeting during the school week
was unusual.

After the photos, I told Alice that I wanted to say a few words to the
children and asked her to translate. I walked to the front and faced the
children.

“I have really enjoyed my time with you,” I said and turned to Alice who
translated.

“I just want you to know…”

Suddenly a lump formed in my throat. My voice cracked and tears stung my
eyes, “That I love you.”  I scanned their faces. “I love you and I wish you
were my children.”

I brushed away my tears but they kept coming. Several children begin to tear
up too.

I wanted them to know that if I didn't return, it wasn't because of them.

I pointed to my eyes.

Bu hao (not good),” I said. I gestured to indicate I was having surgery.

“If everything goes well, I’ll come back; if there are problems I might not
be able to,” I said. (It was inappropriate to tell them my feelings about
Peter and if I chose not to return, I would let them believe the surgery
hadn't gone well.)

“I’m really going to miss you,” I said and reached toward them with open
arms.

“Can they come to you?” Alice asked.

“Yes.”

A swarm of girls ran into my arms. I kissed them.

“I love you,” I said again and again.

After a few minutes, Alice said, “The boys want to come now.”

I smiled and put out my arms towards them. So many little boys rushed me
that I nearly fell over backwards.

Tears streamed down my cheeks; I couldn’t contain them.

Peter joined us then and pointed to an airplane in the sky. He seemed to be
trying to distract the children, which I didn’t mind. Many of the children
wanted their picture taken with me and I had a very hard time smiling for
the camera when I felt like sobbing. I didn’t know at the time that the
children with me had serious, sad expressions and I, with red-rimmed eyes,
was the only one wearing a fixed, phony smile.

Peter reminded the children there was a meeting (another ploy to distract
them?) and reluctantly they trickled away until I was alone. I stood in the
empty courtyard and drew some deep breaths trying to control my emotions.
The very fact that I did not give free expression to them highlighted one of
the cultural differences between the east and the west. I couldn’t help but
think that the Chinese way is a better way. They don't hold back; they wail
out their pain and then it’s done.

I walked to my room and surveyed it. I was leaving most of my things and was
only taking one suitcase. It lay open on the bed. A sheet covered my
bookcase. My little fridge was empty and unplugged. I’d listed what I needed
to bring back to the orphanage if I came and made another list of what I was
leaving there.  Everything was ready; everything except my heart.
-- 
Pat

See new photos at http://picasaweb.google.com/Ms.Pat.Martin/Pingguo#