The African Diaspora: A Hair Story

When I departed for China, I was ready to give up everything…everything EXCEPT my hair.  By then I had moved to Springfield, cut off my locs, and started growing my hair out again.  After going to a barber to get a femme Mohawk and letting a hairdresser experiment with different styles from the 80s (sad face), I finally found Richard.  Richard works at one of the top salons in my hometown.  If you saw him you would not automatically think,” I bet that guy can do black hair.”  Richard is a petite white guy from a small town in Illinois.

Richard Green - friend, stylist and renaissance man

When I met him he seemed very composed, almost controlled – as if a parade of polar bears could lumber down the street in tutus and Richard would not bat an eye.  The more I talked to Richard it became clear that he was much too big of a talent and a personality to be contained in a small town.  He can install hard wood floors, design and tailor a Halloween costume of movie set quality, milk two cows and sheer a sheep all at the same time, and give a keratin treatment.  The man can do anything!

Richard also has very curly hair.  He learned to do black hair from his own experimentations trying desperately to straighten his own wild, wiry ‘fro. Well, he figured it out! Now, he is, in my opinion, the best hair stylist for black hair in Springfield.

So when I got the invitation to Peace Corps I was all geared up to go … as long as Richard could come with me.

Ladies and Gentleman, you know how it is when you find a stylist who does your hair the way you like it.  Well, if you are African American, then triple this sentiment! Our hair can require sculpting, chemical applications, appliances heated to dangerous degrees, and special products to maintain the health of our hair that still has not adjusted to the western hemisphere’s climate.  I once overheard Richard say to a client,” I’m not a chemist, but…” Well, he may not be a chemist but doing black hair is decidedly a science and an art.  Also, I only choose stylists who put some love into it.  Once I reprimanded a stylist for lamenting about the thickness, coarseness and defiance of my hair.  Don’t put no bad juju in my hair!

I remember the day I told Richard that I was 99.9% sure I was joining the Peace Corps and the only thing holding me back was figuring out how to keep up with the upkeep for my hair.  He said nothing, just looked at me blankly in the mirror. Finally, after thoroughly flat ironing two more locks of freshly relaxed hair he said, ”you’re gonna have to cut all your hair off.”

“No, I’m not! I don’t want to do that again. There must be a way!?!”

Richard didn’t answer. He just watched me struggle like a salted slug.

“Well,” he said,” you’ll just have to find one other Black woman there who will help you do your hair.”  Now, he sounds crazy to me.

“Come on! Do you really think there will be another black woman in the Peace Corps, agreeing to live in China as a volunteer for two years!? …I better be prepared to cut my hair off,” I say glumly.

As it turns out, I didn’t have to cut my hair off.  Do you know why I didn’t have to? the African Diaspora! that’s why.

First of all, I was not the only black person or even the only black woman in the Peace Corps/China 17 group.  There are several of us. We are of different ages, backgrounds, and levels of experience in travelling and teaching.  I met a black couple, Carol and Tich.  Carol is from New York City and Tich is Zimbabwean.  We shared some conversations together about our working abroad and my study abroad experience in Zimbabwe.

One day, during one of our numerous long training sessions I noticed that Carol looked disturbed.  I asked her what was bothering her. The answer: hair. She was trying to figure out how to get her hair done here in China.  Who would do it? How to do it – braids, relaxer? Where to buy the products?

I immediately thought about Richard who agreed that via skype he would coach me on how to do a relaxer. I think he was scared I would burn my scalp off. He kept saying “remember to rinse it out 5 times. 5 TIMES!” It’s the only time I’ve seen him get a little anxious.  So I say to Carol, “don’t worry. We will figure it out together. I’m having a relaxer kit mailed to me. We will do each other’s hair if we have to.”  Carol said that this put her at ease.  It probably shouldn’t have, but it did.

About a month later, before I had the relaxer kit in my hands, Carol found Kiki.  Kiki is from Togo.  She teaches French, studies Chinese and braids hair.  Here’s one way the African Diaspora works: Carol’s husband, Tich, called our program director’s husband who is a Rastafarian from the Dominican Republic. Tich poses the hair question to him and the Rastaman recalls that when he met with his friends last week, their daughter had her braids recently done by a woman from Georgia, U.S.A.  Numbers were exchanged. The woman from Georgia was out of town for a few weeks but gave Kiki’s phone number to Tich.  Getting the hair was no problem – we’re in China!  Hair for braids abounds.

In our last three days before leaving to our far-off site in Gansu Province, Carol calls my hotel room, ”Come to my room, I’m getting my hair done!”  When I walk into the room Kiki and Nita are braiding Carol’s hair. It is a beautiful vision of brownness and culture.  “I am witnessing a miracle!!” I tell them all. We cracked up laughing.

Kiki, an artist of African hair braiding

The only glitch is that Kiki is in Chengdu – a two-day and two-night train ride from where I am in Gansu Province.  Braids can last for about two months but when the braid starts peeling away from your hair and you find singles lying on the ground, it’s time for a new ‘do.  So I call to caucus with Carol again.  Low and behold, she had found a student from Nigeria who can braid and give relaxers.  Bouki is her name.  Bouki has been living in Gansu Province for two years studying Chinese, international business and mobile communications. Bouki is on her way to being a multi-millionaire! But until then it looks like she is able to give me relaxers if I bring the kit and meet her at Carol’s apartment which is a mere six hour train ride away.  Considering all of the other possible pathways of the African diaspora, six hours by train is a cinch.

Carol and Tich biding time until the braiding was done

Nita does the finishing touches

many hours later ... finished!

Carol and I, looking and feeling good for our close of training/heading to site ceremony

…………………..

This very moment I am 2.5 hours into the six-hour train ride back to my city.  I’m sitting in, what I now know, is one of the worst locations on the train – next to the restrooms and the smoker’s zone. These two zones form an intersection where people come to hack up phlegm as loudly as possible – whatever it takes to get it out, I guess.  When I hear the guttural sound of throats forcing up mucus, I keep telling myself, “Don’t get uptight about it.  It’s human. It’s human.”  The guy next to me is a serious smoker. He is either sleeping or smoking. When he is sleeping he snores and spit is bubbling up from his mouth – literally. I kid you not.  Now, he is awake drinking orange pop and breathing heavy. I keep an eye on him by looking at his reflection in the window across from us.  Since he is on the train alone I’m kind of like his next of kin.  I want to be ready.

Anyway, my point is that I am enduring all of this to get my hair done, and it’s worth it! I get to keep my hair, and this is made possible courtesy of the African Diaspora.  My people, my people – I love the way we do!

A Teacher’s Heaven?

Teaching in China has been a terrific experience.  I have heard other foreign teachers say that China is a teacher’s heaven.  At first I snickered at these comments but I understand it now.  The students here in China are lovely.  The experience of teaching here is a beautiful challenge with so much room to make a contribution.

I think the stereotype about Chinese students is that they are hyper-disciplined and obedient to a fault.  This stereotype really presents a dehumanized image of Chinese students.  I think the culture of education in China is definitely more formal, more structured.  It has to be when K-12 teachers have classrooms of 50-60 students.  At the university where I teach, I have 40 students in a classroom that is only big enough to fit 40 students in 5 rows of bolted down wooden desks.  There is a blackboard and a podium for me – that’s it.  The teacher stands, students sit.

Part of the formality in Chinese classrooms is efficiency of time, space and classroom management.  Another part of it is respect. Teachers are highly respected here.  I would say that Chinese culture places a high value on knowledge.  Thus teachers are revered as individuals who have studied diligently to master an academic or intellectual content area and impart their knowledge to others as a kind of service to the nation. This is different from the anti-intellectualism pervasive in the U.S. and the patronization of teachers.  In China, it appears that what teachers lack in salary, is compensated by the admiration and adoration they receive from their students and other community members.  Teacher’s Day is a widely celebrated national holiday, one of the few days off work.

If I ever felt un-/under- appreciated as a teacher in the U.S. Chinese students have more than made up for it.  Most of the time, most of the students seem to really concentrate on what I am teaching them.  I think they realize that as a native English speaker I can unlock some of the mystery of pronunciation, rules of grammar and authentic use of the language.  I swear there are times when I look at them and they are not blinking!  Of course there are times like today when I reprimand them for talking during their classmates’ presentations.  One reason why they do this is because the traditional view is that the teacher has the knowledge not the students.  Therefore listening to fellow classmates cannot be an educational experience. It’s a natural extension of traditional teaching styles.

After class students will ask to talk to me, meet with me, and study with me.  They want to improve their English. Chinese students on my campus are very earnest about that.  Students from other classes want to meet with me to improve their English. Their friends in neighboring cities have called me to talk to improve their English.  As a foreign teacher from America, I am an opportunity for Chinese students to learn the intricacies of the English language.  I try to be as available as I can for that. The way I see it is that we only have two years together – let’s work!!

Students constantly express care, affection and interest.  For example, it is very cold in northwest china and growing colder every day now.  So students often tell me “Miss Deanna, it is getting cold, wear more clothes.”  They say this without me mentioning the weather and even if I am wearing a puffy down coat with all the winter fixin’s (scarf, hat and gloves).  I have come to see it as a way to say goodbye or more like Americans might say “take care.”  My students say,” wear more clothes.” Or “eat some delicious foods!”  It is very sweet.

Now that I am less busy with classes, students want to eat lunch with me in the canteen.  The canteen is really a series of three buildings that house cafeterias.  This is no jello, hamburger or hot dog kind of joint.  This food is made to order. It is fast, but it is good, fresh and made by one of many lightening fast cooks in the enormous kitchen.

Canteen 1

The third canteen is a Muslim place so the food is prepared appropriately and the regional specialty beef noodles is served.  You can watch them stirring the beefy stock in a gigantic vat and whipping the fresh made dough through the air, into thin strands of noodle just before tossing them into the soup. It’s amazing!

When I go to lunch with students it’s a great time because we can talk about all those things that we don’t have time for in the classroom: do you have brothers and sisters? What is your dream job? Where would you want to live? Since we spend so much time talking at lunch, the students begin to worry that I am not eating enough. So as I speak they are gingerly placing choice pieces of meat and vegetables on top of my bowl of rice.  They watch to see if I know how to use chopsticks (I do).  They wonder if I like the food. Is it enough food?  Is it too spicy? Is it enough? Do I mind them placing food in my bowl?  I think it is one of the sweetest gestures I have ever experienced! I love it.  It’s the idea that someone cares so much about you that before they put food in their own mouths they offer it to you.  What an incredibly loving gesture.  Besides that they ordered so many dishes my arms are not long enough to reach across the table to try the suantai rou.  Even with chopsticks I’d be lucky to bring back a single garlic stem. I need the help.

This afternoon I coached two students on their pronunciation. Afterwards, Jack encouraged me to call him when I have free time so that he can cook dinner for me and five students.  What a great idea! I got really excited about it.  Then he added, ”We know you are far from home and we worry that you will get lonely. ”  That evening I was thinking to myself, these students are seriously paying attention to my well-being.  I promise you all I am not sulking around here.  They are just very sensitive to the position I am in, far from the things that they value – like family, layers of clothes and foods I might find delicious.  They want me to be healthy, happy and have an overall great experience of China.

I adore my students and cherish them.  They often appeal to me to lean on them, to call them if I need any help.  They make me feel so loved, I wish every teacher who feels defeated, deflated, exhausted, cynical and depressed could come here. They would be restored so fast!  In turn, I try to offer myself to students as someone they can be proud of. Someone they can talk to. Someone who will gently coax them out of their shyness and more towards their own voice.  I think I’m some kind of English Language leader! It’s a new role but I take it on whole-heartedly. English can be a powerful tool for students as they prepare to take their place in both Chinese society and the global community.  Jia You! Come on! Let’s do this!

I do want to say this…my work with students of color at the University of Utah and with Southeast High School students really prepared me to take on this role among Chinese students.  They brought me to many insights as to the kind of adult leadership that young adult students need and long for.  They taught me how to catch hell from students and how to protect them from harm.  They taught me that laughter is often the gateway to respect.  And that honesty is the only way to build trust and affection.

So Big Up!! to all the students in my life, past and present. Thanks for helping me prepare for this terrific experience.  You’re the best!

JUST LAST NIGHT…  A group of students called me yesterday afternoon. They were nervous about their assignment to prepare a 20-minute teaching lesson for their methods class.  They asked if I could meet them in the evening and give them some suggestions.  We workshopped and practiced together until 9:30pm. So as we were leaving the students tell me,”It’s very cold. wear more clothes now.”

There is not a lot of lighting on our tiny campus so I brought my flashlight with me.  When the students saw it they asked,” Are you afraid of the dark? We can accompany you home.”  I assured them I was not scared of the dark and would be a-ok walking home.

So, all nine of us began to walk out of the building. Upon exiting, we immediately merge with scores of other students who had been studying all evening also.  When class is not in session, the classrooms are always occupied by students studying quietly for hours. On cold days the sunniest seats are filled first.

The students’ dorm is to the left and my apartment is to the right. I wave good bye and take my turn. Then I see that all eight of the students are following me like a shadow.  ”You’re going to walk me home?” Of course they are!  I laugh and we all scoot along on the ice and snow. We talked about how you have to be who you are when you teach rather than mimic some other teacher you admire. Lucy was emphatic that there really are camels in her hometown Wuwei – I was surprised. We shared our plans for the upcoming Winter Holiday. Then suddenly we were all standing in front of my apartment building.  Lucky Star announces,” Miss Deanna, you have arrived.”

“You’re right, Lucky Star,” I say, “I have arrived.”

Living in a Changing China

I am now on my fourth month in China. This seems like a short amount of time but because I am completely immersed in Chinese culture, language and society, four months is enough time for me to feel like a legitimate and active participant in life here.  In some ways, four months feels like four years, and other times, about fourteen minutes – usually when it comes to having conversations in Chinese Mandarin (Putonghua).

Already I have flash images of what it would be like to return to the United States.  The culture shock of returning home right now would be overwhelming! I think this is an indication that I actually am adjusting to life here.  It also points to my growing realization that there is a pulsating energy here in China, from the gigantic urban municipality of Chengdu to the small, historical city of Zhangye.  China is in the midst of a growth spurt. Economic change and development is happening so rapidly here while analysts and experts watch with bated breath to see how social change evolves along with it.

At the same time, China is the master of managing internal transformation all the while negotiating some of the most precarious global politics. It is awesome to watch, to listen and in some small ways – very small, miniscule ways, be a part of this phenomenon.

The work of English teachers is instrumental here.  I feel a sense of urgency for my students because even with all the imperialist politics around English as a language of international currency, learning this language – my language, will give them some leverage in determining what role they want to play in their country’s development.  The students here are so earnest about their education. They understand the stakes of not going to college, of not passing their exams and of speaking English “just so-so.”  Most of them have dedicated themselves wholly to making it across what a primary school English teacher described to me last week as “a very small bridge in which few can pass to the other side to build a better life for themselves.”

I really hope they make it.  This hope and sense of urgency I have for them, I pour into teaching.  It is always about how to help prepare students for a future that is going to be significantly, if not vastly, different from the one their classmates just one year prior stepped out into. Many students I teach will return to small, agricultural based cities and teach English to the children of farmers who grow potatoes, rice, corn, and sunflowers. They will hopefully be able to pass this chance on to their students who will have more time to ready themselves for a changing society.

Still, I look out into the classroom and think that maybe one or two my students will become translators, go on to do graduate studies at a major university in China or work for an international company – maybe.  I try to infuse my teaching with this possibility – this inevitability!  Look at recent developments in the U.S., Europe and the Middle East. …isn’t it true that a nation can change quickly and the opportunities for its citizens can be impacted dramatically for better or worse?

Living in China at this particular time in its history feels monumental!  It feels like plugging directly into a great global pulse. Incomparable! Incredible!

One of my best days in China! The students took me on a beautiful, challenging hike up a mountain foothill. In the not-so-distant view we saw villages tucked into arid mountain terraces. We wondered how they travelled to and fro, and talked about how the mountains looked like waves. It was an unanimous decision to hike down a path we had not yet tread. It was steep and narrow. We welcomed the adventure!

My Take on Toilets

Anyone who has travelled to what is considered to be a developing/under-developed/undeveloped country probably has a story to tell about the toilets.  It is a dirty subject that most people do not want to talk about unless they have used a toilet that took them totally out of their cultural comfort zone.  In China I have used two kinds of toilets – the classic Western-style toilet and …(drum roll)…the Squatter.

I am squatting like a champ now but it took me a while to develop technique.  The squatter is all about technique and of course “mind over matter.”  The squatter can be found both in private homes and in public places.  So far in my experience in China, the squatter is much more than a hole in the ground.  There are stalls with doors that lock and sometimes a hook to hang your purse.  The walls of the stall do not always reach the ceiling making it is possible to see your neighbor from the chest or shoulders up.  If your neighbor is squatting then they are totally concealed.   Once at the university I got all discombobulated because I was squatting and two of my classmates walked in and I was freaked out they would see me.  Then I was shocked thinking what if I can see them!  It took about two seconds for me to realize that everyone in the bathroom is minding their own business.

There is no toilet paper in the public bathrooms – not even in some fancy restaurants.  Everyone is responsible for carrying their own toilet paper.  In convenient stores to chain stores there are cute little personal packets of tissue that can be tucked away until the time is right.  Sometimes they are scented and sometimes the packaging displays cartoonish figures with odd slogans and themes.  Large family-size packages of tissue are also sold for use at home.

The biggest toilet tissue issue is remembering to throw it in the garbage can.  Toilet paper doesn’t get flushed here too often.  Some households flush paper of course but not all or even most.  At the first hotel we stayed in – which was really nice- we were asked to not flush the toilet paper.  This creates a big odiferous problem in public restrooms.  Even in the nicest venue the restroom can smell…it’s indescribable really, but let me jus say “foul”.  It is all a matter of degree.  At one university there is an open air food court and the restrooms there are unbearable.  I don’t want to touch anything!  When I am squatting I bury my nose into my shirt trying to breath in perfume or laundry detergent like my life depended on it.  Maybe I have saved my own life ten times in the past two months.  Coming out of the stall I kick the flush button, nudge the door of the stall open and fly out of there as quickly as possible.  It only takes a second to decide not to rinse my hands under questionable water, wash with laundry detergent used for other cleaning purposes, or go back to my seat and use the skincare wipes I stow next to my toilet paper.  It’s an event.

Peace Corps trainees have to teach English for two weeks to Chinese students. It is our mini teacher training for Teaching English as Foreign Language (TEFL).  In the building where I taught the squatters were on a whole other level.  I stood in the door way thinking, “Oh my god, how am I ever going to do this?”  Before I could even finish that thought I jumped in fright at the sound of rushing water.  It sounded like a tidal wave flowing from the ceiling.  The sound repeats itself every five minutes.  It is like an automatic flush.  Water just runs through the squatter of all squatters every few minutes to clear everything out of one long aquaduct.  The aquaduct connects three non-stalls with no doors.  You’ve got to step into the non- stall and on top of a raised platform.  Below you is a mini canal and that is where the business lands and is washed away by the flood of water every few minutes.  It all washes into a hole in the last stall.  I do not know where that hole leads. I kept thinking if I need to go to the bathroom I have to do it before my students arrive!  They can NOT see their teacher like ….this!! 

Some people find the toilet situation horrifying.  They will always wait to find a western toilet, but that’s risky.  Some people find it physically challenging to kick the flush button and the acrobatics of handling clothing and squatting with perfect aim.  I personally think that when it comes to public toilets the western toilet needs to be reconsidered.

On the twenty-hour train ride to Lanzhou I was bummed to see the squatter.  We couldn’t use it when the train was in the station.  No dumping in the station.  I knew no one was going to clean that squatter for the next twenty hours.  I had to psyche myself up to use it each time and place my tissue in strategic places so I would not need to touch anything.  Then on the train to Zhangye I was directed to the toilet and was dismayed to find it was a western-style.  Think of all the asses that come into contact with that one seat.  It is disturbing to think about.  That is when I determined that western-style toilets were not made for public use.  Or meant for exclusive use by the wealthy and privileged classes.  Or they were made to be used in conjunction with an elaborate sanitation system.  It is too bad that sanitation systems are one of the last institutions to develop in many countries – even in the U.S.

I think squatters are much more pragmatic in public venues. On the other hand a western style toilet is the kind of toilet you need in the middle of the night on a bathroom run.  So much more relaxing and supportive.

As a result of all of this, volunteers at our training site talk very freely about toilet related subjects. We make jokes about tesuo (toilet) and la duzi (diarrhea) at any time during our language classes, on the way to classes, and on the bus going downtown or wherever!  What’s more is that these jokes never fail to break us down into fits of laughter.  On the other hand, if one of us has la duzi we nod solemnly in solidarity and check-in with them a few days later to see if all symptoms have cleared.  In American culture these are topics that are supposed to be embarrassing.  We are expected to be discreet or even secretive about them.  I like to think that in our dirty doody talk we are reclaiming some of our much-needed childhood foolishness and reminding ourselves that we are all human.

Zhangye: A Place Beyond Words

I’m not sure what my life in Zhangye will be like but I accept that I can’t figure that out now.  After four days I was feeling slightly depressed and realized that I am three weeks from moving to a city that I’m just not feeling.  Not that Zhangye is a bad city but all I had been able to focus on was what it lacked from the climate to shopping to its proximity to, well…everyone else I have met in the past two months.

My friends already know I am a person who thinks that my frame of mind can cast light or shadow on my reality.  So, I made the effort to examine my thinking and use it as an opportunity to burn off some karma.  My breakthrough came last night.   It all unfurled after dinner when I decided to take a walk by myself.

I knew going for a walk alone would be tricky because Tian Jr. and Wei Yuxi had been by my side in all endeavors since day one. When I walked towards the door to reach for my shoes they looked frightened.

“Where do you want to go?” asked Wei Yuxi.

“I want to go for a walk and I want to go alone, “ I told her sweetly.

Our Chinese host families take their responsibility to care for us very, very seriously and personally.  Our well-being is treated as a reflection on them.  It is important to them that I eat enough food, that I am safe, and that I am enjoying my stay in China.  If that is not happening the family could “lose face.”  Which is a lot easier to recover from in America than it is here in China.

Before my host family could analyze my declaration of independence as me wanting to be away from them, I tried to lighten it up with smiles and a laugh.  I also assured them that they had spent four days walking with me all over town and because they were such great hosts I knew exactly how to get around by myself.  I finished that statement off with, “ What is your apartment number and how do I get back into the house?”

I put on my shoes and headed out the door.  When I turned to shut it all four of the Tian family were looking at me with mouths wide open.  I pointed at them and laughed, “Mei Wenti, Mei Wenti” /No Problem.  They relaxed…just a little.  Instantly I felt bad for making these kind folk worry about their Meiguo ren (American), but I knew I had to press on.

On my walk I just wanted to be with my own thoughts and feelings – to figure out what was blocking me from the thrill of being in a totally livable city.  I walked through campus and let the cool breeze lap across my face, my neck, my hands.  As I started to relax the feelings came up.  I just missed everybody – from Jude (my niece) to Kevin (my new classmate) to Nzinga (my newest best friend).  I missed being in relationships where people know me well enough to share their life’s adventures and trials with me.  Although the generosity and graciousness of the Tian family has been astounding, there were still those moments when silence sat between us daring us to enter into each other’s language.  There were moments of embarrassment when I clogged their toilet from using too much toilet paper.  I must have gone to the bathroom one hundred times.  The weather in Zhangye is high desert dry and sunny.  I was drinking water as fast as I could and loading up on watermelon in the afternoon.  The bottom line is that I used too much toilet paper too often for their toilet and Wei Li had to plunge it.  Totally embarrassing!  It’s a very uncomfortable experience to meet a family from a culture with very particular norms and within three days of knowing them clog their toilet.

All of those experiences as an outsider had me longing to be an insider to someone, but it wasn’t happening…until…

After my walk I caught up to where Wei Li was doing her community dance class in an outdoor courtyard.  I stepped in for a few minutes and tried to mimic the movements of the other ladies.  It took a lot of coordination but I only had a little.  We walked home together across the campus in the dark.  I hummed the song we had been dancing to and that made her smile.

When we got to the house her younger brother was there sitting and smoking cigarettes with Tian Laoshi (Laoshi = Professor).  Her younger brother is a character and immediately he had me cracking up laughing.   It was that unique cross-lingual humor where I know exactly what I am laughing at and at the same time I have no idea.  Didi (little brother) and Mei Mei (little sister) were running back and forth into the computer room trying to translate between the two of us.  As it turns out, JuJu (Uncle) drives foreign teachers to nearby tourist destinations.  He drives them to Buddhist sites.  When the kids came out to translate Buddhism, Didi told me,” My mom is a Buddhist.”  I looked at Wei Li and she looked at me.  “I am a Buddhist!” I said to Wei Li.  We pointed to each other back and forth verifying that we were both Buddhists. Then she took me to her display case and showed me various books, lectures and audio-recordings.  She showed me a pack of cards.  Mei Mei hands them over to me and says,” Auntie wants you to have them, but she says do not play with them. You must cherish them.”

I began to look at the cards.  All were images from a city called Don Huang.  In Don Huang there is a grotto where sculptures and wall paintings of Buddha and boddhisatvas are carved.  This is an ancient heritage site with many of the pieces being created in 275 B.C.  The images are amazing. 

Then Tian Laoshi opens up a world atlas and begins to trace for me the migration route of Buddhism.  His index finger begins in India and then traces an arc of two cities that leads to Zhangye.  Zhangye, he says, and the city of Xi’An are the gateway cities that brought Buddhism to China.

We all sat in silence for a few seconds.  This time it was the silence of understanding and connection.  That moment released a lot of my anxiety about moving to Zhangye.  It made me feel like there is something here to discover more than just where to make photocopies and buy vegetables.  Zhangye is a corridor along the Silk Road ushering Buddhism into the fold of world religions.  Fascinating! I also felt connected to Wei Li and her family. We were not able to communicate any better through language but our relationship took a turn towards a place beyond words.

Destination Known

Yesterday was the day many of us had been waiting for.  Eighty trainees gathered in a hotel conference room waiting for the Peace Corps staff to announce our assignments and our sites.  It would be the answer to the question: where am I going to be for the next two years.

Finally, we were handed a plastic envelope with the name of a college or university on it. The color of the envelope indicated which province we would be going to.  My heart sank a little as I was handed a blue envelope while my friend held a red envelope in his hand. Peace Corps staff turned around a gigantic map of China with all of our passport-size photos pinned to it.  Now, we finally knew who was going where.

I am assigned to Zhangye, Gansu, the northern most site in which Peace Corps volunteers are posted.  It is near Mongolia and the Gobi Desert.  Zhangye is a small city by Chinese standards consisting of roughly one million people. Compare that to the city of Chengdu where I live now which has a population of around 14 million.  So the location may sound isolated but it is an urban area developing as quickly as are many, many other cities in China.  The rate of development I see here is astounding!

A common sight all over Chengdu

High-rise apartment complex communities are constantly in construction to meet the housing needs of a quickly growing population.

This is the balcony of the apartment I am living in now. It is the same view from my bedroom window. It's a massive apartment complex. At the same time, residents are very social here. Many families, older people take walks every evening or go swimming at the pool. I feel at ease in this community. I don't have a security card, but the guards know me and let me in the gates anyway.

Zhangye is a city over two thousand years old that holds historical importance as the Hexi Corridor along the Silk Road where imported/exported goods were transported from the East to the West.  It is a city known for its natural beauty, streams, mountains, clean air, and cold, dry climate.  There is a significant Muslim influence there and also 29 other minority groups including Tibetans.  I am eager to learn more about minority groups in China.  I have heard differing counts of how many minority groups there are from 100 to 400.  My sense is that people can easily say what minority group they belong to but talking about what that means in a social, political sense is a topic that must be tread lightly.  At this point, I am not even sure what I want to know or for what purpose.

My assignment is to train teachers at Hexi University (HU).  I will provide in-service training for current teachers and training for student teachers. I have a site mate named Susan.  We co-taught in the PC Model School as part of our training in Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL).  This was a two-week class in which we taught oral English to Chinese students.  We worked great together!!

Room 302

Susan and I with our students from Model School.

Susan and I will be part of a Peace Corps pilot program to assist in developing the teacher-training curriculum at Hexi University.

Zhangye is a long, long train ride from Chengdu.  Thirty hours.  I leave Sunday afternoon for an eight-day site visit. During which I will stay with a second host family, view my apartment and map out the university. Then it is back to Chengdu to complete the last three weeks of training.  August 31, we are officially sworn in as volunteers and then I will return to Zhangye.  Over the course of the two years, I will be back and forth to Chengdu and other cities/provinces for trainings and summer programs.

I am super excited about ALL of this!  Zhangye sounds fascinating and beautiful. I am very pleased with my assignment.  It will be a challenge no doubt, but I am totally up for it.  My second host family does not speak English well, so my Mandarin speaking skills will have to go to the next level.  Who knows what the train ride this afternoon is going to be like!  And I feel very grateful that I have real, true friends for which my heart already pines.

After a long, physically tiring and emotionally exhausting week, I am feeling my energy replenishing and ebbing me on with even more wonder and bravery.  This is the week that answers my question: where am I going?

Try to Remain Calm

I am super excited to be able to write this blog entry!

My computer has been on the fritz.  By “the fritz” I mean it would NOT power on.  I did all the usual tricks – plug it in, press power button, shift+control+function+whatever and nothing happened. I mean NU-thing! blank screen.  All I could do was try to remain calm because getting my computer to a repair shop and explaining the problem AND getting it fixed is more than a notion.  Some of you may have heard of the plethora of unofficial Apple Stores in China.  Well, it’s true.  They are here.  And I was planning to take my MacBook woes to one of them on saturday afternoon.  Luckily, PRAM worked.  So here I am with my fully functioning computer at my fingertips.

My computer as a means of communication is infinitely more important to me now that I am immersed in an environment where Hanzi and the Chinese spoken languages reign supreme.   Seldom is English spoken or used, and even then it can be very random.  Typically it is translated by non-native English speakers which makes for some strange, absurd phrases.  The tag on my umbrella reads: This item is made under perfect control.  It’s not wrong. It’s just a little strange.

The good news is that the week I was off-line was my first official week of being exhausted and depressed.  Peace Corps volunteers have to go through two months of training before being sworn in officially as volunteers.  Right now I am a “trainee.”  We study Mandarin between 4-6 hours 6 days each week.  We also study how to teach English as a foreign language (TEFL) and we taught Chinese students in a 2-week mock school.  Also there are numerous trainings on how to live safe and healthy here under conditions that may be difficult.  These conditions can involve anything from the air quality, sexual health, protection from crime, to basic health care.  These session are key to our creating a healthy life and doing our work successfully here.

I could feel my stress levels increase over the past several days because tomorrow we find out where our training site will be.  The training site is the city/university where we will be teaching and living for the next two years of service. Our training site could be anywhere from 20 minutes from where we are living now to a 12 hour train ride away.  It may seem ridiculous for me to be anxious about moving to a far away province when I already made the big leap of moving to China.  From the day I left until now I have been going through this entire experience with fellow trainees.  We are connected closely even in our differences.  They have become an anchor for me.  I have made some close friends in the group and it is heartbreaking to think I may not see them for 6 months to a year or more.  Harsh!

On top of that I realized that I am just tired of starting over.  I have started over after leaving Salt Lake City. After leaving academia. After leaving Springfield, Illinois. and now, chances are, I will be leaving Chengdu.  For me it is not so much where I am going, the hard part is rebuilding friendships, community and collegial relationships.  It is something I do well, but damn…how many more times?  I guess that question is really up to me.

My host sister listened to my woes and then said to me,”think of your training now as preparation for your new life in China.” Yeah! I like that thought…Cheers to my new life in China!  So far so-so-so good.

Check out these photos from My First Chinese Birthday…

My host sister, Liu Xu with her cousins who prepared the most scrumptious birthday dinner ever!

Auntie and I laughing about something. ...I have family here.

 

I am an alien

I am an alien.  See that paper over there?

my alien papers

It announces my current status as an alien in China.  I am not a citizen here.  I am allowed to be here because I have successfully passed medical examinations and my purpose in being here is an acceptable one.  I am allowed to live and work in China for one year.  When that year runs out I have to ask permission to continue living and working here for another year.  If I do not get the proper approvals and documentation in time, I will have to leave the country.

Also I have had to register with the local police.  That is how I found out I was an alien.  Being granted the status of an alien is good news.  At least it is for me, in this case.  When I saw that title in reference to me it struck me.  I started to think about all the rhetoric in the U.S. around people who are undocumented.  I thought about people around the world who are fleeing their country and migrating to a neighboring city or country.  They are also undocumented and often referred to by the majority as illegal aliens.  To be referred to as an alien is a strong reminder that we don’t belong and that we do not have the same rights as citizens.  It causes me to be very careful and conscious of everything I say or do.

A lot of aliens cannot even begin to blend in to their new environment.  They do not look the same, speak the same language, live the same culture – nothing they are is even close to what the majority is.  Last week I went for a walk in the neighborhood with Liu Xu (my host, pronounced Lee-o Sheuh).  We talked easily about what we hoped for in our careers and in our families.  Then we stopped at a park to watch children rollerblade around tiny cones.  I felt completely at ease.  I looked around and no one was staring at me.  I started thinking that maybe my skin color is not so different than theirs.  Their hair is dark and my hair is dark. I am comfortable here and it seems like my presence is not unusual.  So I asked Liu Xu,” Do you think I really look different from everyone else?”  She laughed and said,“What do you think?”  I started laughing too.  I look totally different.

Once I wore a mandarin-style blouse and the Chinese staff members all gathered around me to tell me how beautiful I looked with the blouse on.  I was very happy they were pleased.  Yesterday I wore a mandarin-style blouse and my Chinese students gathered around me and said, “you wear very pretty tops, Miss Deanna.”  “Thank you,” I told them,” this is my Chengdu top!”  I wanted them to know that I find their culture beautiful.  Participation is one way I show my respect.

People stare at me all of the time.  It is not a mean, judgmental stare.  So far, it’s just pure, unabashed curiosity and wonder.  It doesn’t bother me at all. In the U.S., I am used to the stares meaning something else entirely.  Babies crane their necks in their strollers to look at me.  Children hand me candies.  I must look to them like Barney, the big purple dinosaur.  One little girl held her stuffed lion out to me.  I pretended the lion was biting me and made funny sounds and silly faces.  As an alien it is a good thing to be entertaining.  I try to be friendly to everyone until I figure out who not to be friendly to.  My goal is to find one fruit stand, one restaurant, and one juice bar to be very friendly with.  Then I know the price is fair and they know exactly what I am trying to order.

As far as aliens go, I am very privileged.  People help me take care of my needs all of the time.  I have health care and I have a job that holds a respectable status in this society.  Being an American, English-speaking alien is definitely the best kind of alien to be.

Hot Pots and Numbing Pepper

All you fellow travelers out there can testify that one of the most important aspects of any journey is food.  Can I get an amen?…..

It doesn’t matter if you are a foodie more than willing to try any delectable or daring dish set before you or a health nut scouring the local restaurants for foods that fulfill your strict dietary requirements.  Every traveler has got to figure out food.

One thing I learned about Chengdu, located in the Sichuan Province of China is that it is world renown for its cuisine.  It is considered one of the most scrumptious, sophisticated and spicy palates.  Sure enough my first meal here was chock full of numbing pepper.  When I bit into one of those tiny nuggets of the most fragrant floral peppery spice I had an out of body experience.  It tasted like a cross between lemon grass, clove and black pepper.  When you bite into it your tongue goes numb from the essential oils.  It was totally exciting – like nothing I have ever tasted!

The first week of Mandarin language classes, our teacher took us out for lunch everyday.  We would walk to a nearby restaurant in an area that looked almost like any other college town. From the sidewalk we walked down a few stairs to a sort of sunken open air eating area.  The seven of us pulled our chairs around a wooden table and Laoshi (“teacher” in Mandarin: pronounced Lah-oh-shurh) would begin to order for us.

She ordered the most delicious dishes!  Strips of fluorescent purple eggplant in a sauce that was somehow both rich and light, thin pieces of pork cooked with strips of fresh ginger and onion (but it wasn’t an onion), chicken with red chili peppers and peanuts, foot long fresh made noodles in a chicken broth with cilantro and spices.  It sounds simple and maybe even familiar but it was roll your eyes back in your head good.

That first day at lunch I noticed that many diners had on their table a gigantic bowl with skewered food sticking out of it.  “What is that?” I asked Laoshi.  “A hot pot,” she replied, “but it is served cold in the summertime.  We can get one next time if you want.”  Of course I couldn’t wait and later that night my roommate and I set out to find the hot pot.

The skewers are plunged through all kinds of vegetables and meats. Mostly foods I have never seen before.  I did recognize a kale-type vegetable, lotus root, a hot-dog type meat and a chicken foot.  The bowl is filled with a spicy broth of a marinade and this sits on every table all day, all evening.  You just eat what you want. Then the proprietor counts your skewers and charges you accordingly.

The spice is supposed to clean you out internally, but I decided I better steer clear of foods that sit on tables – everyone’s table, day in and day out.

Like I said food is a big deal here, especially for foreigners like me.  My stomach has to adjust to a completely different palate on top of adjusting to EVERYTHING else. Some things in China are exactly the same as in the U.S. only completely different.

More food stories to come.  Mama arrived a few days ago with bundles of eggs, various flours, nuts, and other goods from the countryside.  She does not like the preservatives in city foods.

In the Air

I am writing this entry from an airplane.  I am officially in the air and heading to China.  This involves a thirteen-hour flight to Beijing, a four-hour layover in Beijing and then a two-hour flight to Chengdu.  As Peace Corps volunteers we have been instructed to dress comfortably for the plane ride but by the time we step off the plane in Chengdu we need to be dressed in business casual attire.  I folded a pair of slacks and a polo shirt in my carry-on and plan to change clothes during the layover.  I am sure the bathroom in Beijing will be packed with eighty-three of us slipping into something less comfortable.

Being on the plane right now is relaxing.  There is nothing to do but entertain oneself, eat and sleep.  The past two days up to this point have been hectic! Dizzying! Intense!  Here’s the fast forward version of what’s been going on…

Returned from Salt Lake City. Brooded over having to leave friends. Exhausted from storage unit project. Tried to catch up on sleep. Wished I could lay on the couch and watch t.v. or outside on the porch and read a book.  Went to multiple doctor appointments.  Stressed about not having enough money. Had a great time out to dinner with mom. Had dinner with family. Had dinner with friends.  Phoned long distance friends. Went to Walgreens. Went to Walgreens again. Focused on my stressed state of mind while Dad packed and re-packed my suitcases. Slept for four hours. Next day drove to Chicago with mom and dad. Reflected on past, present and future. Mom and I cried all the way to Chicago.  Met Aunt Bev in hotel lobby.  I said goodbye and took the elevator upstairs to begin the official Peace Corps Staging Event.

I can’t figure out a way to describe what this was like.  I was really tense most of the time, my palms sweating in hopes that I had all my paperwork completed and correct. The first few people I met were very young. Fresh out of college.  Normally this doesn’t matter to me but it started to that day.  I could see that probably everyone was nervous and immediately began to find an organizing principle for figuring out who they wanted to connect with.  It just drove home the fact that I am not twenty-one or twenty-three and I’m not even going to try to head over to the Taste of Chicago after this training.  By the way, the training ended at the respectable hour of seven o’clock.

If you know me at all you know I am an introvert.  I really made an effort to be outgoing and chatty with people.  I met a lot of cool people and I totally wore myself out.  The last hour of training my head was literally throbbing.  I felt compelled to join a group heading out for pizza and beer but the truth was all I wanted to do was be alone, take a hot bath and walk around downtown Chicago and feel the breeze on my face.  And see citified American people.  So I managed to reel myself out of the social current and do exactly that.  I took a nice walk along the Chicago River.  It felt so damn good.

Afterwards I went back to my room. Ate my dinner. Watched t.v. while I repacked my suitcase and texted my mom about fifteen times.  My roommate came back home and gave me the scoop-de-doop about a Facebook group that’s been going on for months with other China 17 members.  It is chock full of answers to questions I’ve been asking for months!   We turned the lights out at 1130pm and prepared for our early morning departure the next day.

The next morning I woke up before the alarm and turned my attention to my thoughts — those fresh morning thoughts that don’t lie.  They were a little hard to deal with to tell you the truth.  I was definitely scared.  I had thoughts about turning back.  Of course the reality is, back to where? To what?  It’s not what I want for myself.  Then I started wondering if I don’t give myself a chance to settle down or settle in.  Am I always on the go? Do I get bored too easily?  Is boredom a cover up for something else?

In a few minutes those thoughts settled and a pure electric excitement came over me.  Fantastic! I’m headed to China today!

*written June 30, 2011