The only way one of my teenage ESL students from Beijing could reconcile the fact that Canadian mothers apparently routinely engage in self-destructive life-threatening behaviour after giving birth is that Chinese and Westerners must have different biological constitutions. It was funny (and not entirely untrue). I was tutoring her this morning in between trips to see Lilia in the NICU, and she was alternately gushing with very earnest advice about what Jessica must eat as a brand new mother and appalled with the things we let Jessica do.
I was telling her how the day after the surgery Jessica walked to the NICU to see Lilia in the incubator (and rode back in the wheelchair) — my student couldn’t believe I’d let Jessica out of bed. Then she couldn’t believe that after getting discharged from the hospital we actually let/make Jessica ride in the car to the hospital at least twice a day to see the baby (there are bumps in the road!). Basically Jessica shouldn’t leave the house — actually, better that she just stay in bed, for a month.
When Jessica was still pregnant one mother of a teenager from Sichuan was talking to me about the traditional Chinese custom of being house-bound and not showering for a month after giving birth. “Oh, that’s silly. I had a shower after only two weeks!”
Of course we’d heard about the popular traditional Chinese beliefs surrounding pregnancy and birth. No doubt our various cultures contain plenty of mutually jaw-dropping popular advice in this area. But this kind of stuff sounds even funnier in Canada for some reason. :) And no matter how particular advice sounds to us, it’s great the way our Chinese friends show their care and warmth by showering us with concern and advice.
(P.S. – Commenting *should* be fixed now, so you can leave comments again. Stupid security plugin changed my settings without telling me!)
If blogging is a little slow for the next little while, here’s why:
Lilia Eden was born 7 weeks early at 9:21pm on May 23! She’s 4lbs 10.5oz, 18.5 inches. Jessica is doing great, despite the unexpected emergency surgery, and Lilia is in the NICU getting stronger every day. If you’re Facebook friends with either of us, then you can see photos.
We’re aiming to move back to China in September, but blogging will be less frequent (but not totally absent) until then.
P.S. – Chinese name suggestions most welcome! But we make no promises. Her family name is 陆。
P.P.S. – As tempting as it is, we wont be turning this into a baby photo blog. We’ll keep writing China stuff here, and just make a different blog for the baby photos! :)
Mrs. Xie is an old sidewalk shoemender who abandoned her village and migrated to the city, where she’s worked on the same street for 28 years. Her and her bicycle repairman husband live in poverty, sacrificing every fēn for their daughter to get her Master’s degree and their son to pursue his PhD, both at one of China’s top universities. Mrs. Xie has watched people for so long that she can tell all kinds of things about a person just from their shoes. For example:
The one’s in high heels are the most worth looking at. If they jab their heels into the ground as they walk, it’s because they don’t know how to wear them, or they’ve put them on for the first time. You don’t need to look at them to know that they’re sticking out their bums, which is really unattractive! You have to walk slowly in high heels — walking fast looks hideous. The higher the heels they’re wearing, the less willing they are to give way to other people — these are shoes that can only go forwards not backwards. The high-heeled slippers that are fashionable nowadays are really funny. The foot often slips out of them, and then the slipper is just looped over the foot, which makes it completely useless. Everyone knows that women have small, delicate feet, but with these high heels now, the toes are very pointed, not for putting your foot in. It makes the whole shoe look big, and a small woman striding along with a pair of big feet looks ridiculous! And something else: not a lot of women look after their feet. Sometimes you smell her perfume, what a lovely smell! But she walks past you and her feet are really ugly with yellow calluses at the back of the heels and the feet all wrinkly. If I look up, the face is bound to be plastered in thick make-up. Quite repulsive. I can’t bear to see that.
One’s called “Hao Mama 好妈妈: Raising Children in Mandarin and English” and it’s one mother of two’s “never-ending quest to find and share resources that make learning Chinese a fun and organic part of our children’s lives.”
Another is called Chinese Lessons: “We are also at the cutting edge of an increasingly heated debate over global education . . . Which system – Eastern or Western – will best prepare our children for the highly competitive future that they must face?
This blog is dedicated to tracking this cultural immersion and to our own — highly personal — engagements with these debates.”
From the romance troubles of young people to the battle against desertification of farmers to the quiet co-opting of the elites, the Guardian’s China at the Crossroads series offers video and articles analyzing contemporary China.
Pronounced: luǒ bēn Literally: naked dash Means: “to streak” or “streaking”, as in drunk people at sporting events taking off their clothes and running around on the field, court or ice while being chased by security guards.
“Nothing to My Name” has been called the biggest hit song in Mainland Chinese history. If you’re only gonna learn one Chinese karaoke tune, this is the song. And if you’re looking for a poignant time to learn it, this is the month.
一无所有 / yīwúsuǒyǒu / Nothing to My Name
If you’re in Great Firewalled Youtube-blocking Mainland China you can see the video here (thanks, Ryan!). Listen to the mp3 here:
Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.
一无所有 channeled the disillusionment, anxieties, hopes, frustrations, complaints, and rebellion of urban Mainlanders coming of age during the ideological thaw of 80′s China. They adopted it as their generation’s anthem. Even many 90′s kids (in their mid to late 20s now) still connect strongly to this song.
Cuī Jiàn (崔健) is often called “the father of Chinese rock.” He first performed “Nothing to My Name” on a TV talent show in 1985 and then at a major concert in 1986. China’s urban young people ate it up. This month marks the 20th anniversary of a third significant performance, but I’ll let you follow the links at the end of this post to discover the more dramatic and sensitive details about the significance of Cuī Jiàn and “Nothing to My Name.”
Lyrics & Guitar Chords
From the beginning people interpreted the ambiguous lyrics in different ways (politics, sex, love & economics). But it was no secret that the lyrics were intended to contain both national and critical meanings. Cuī Jiàn’s concerts, in which he’d perform with a red blindfold over his eyes and play other songs with more pointed lyrics, left little doubt as to the targets of the critique. Those ‘targets’ responded by banning Cuī Jiàn from playing any large, significant performances for over 15 years.
The vagueness of the lyrics leaves this song open to a wide variety of English renderings. The English translation below is based on the translation found at cuijian.com (see other English renderings here and here). The title literally could mean “having nothing” or “not having anything.”
The guitar chords in the download aren’t perfect, but close. If you catch any mistakes on that or the translation, let me know! Download:YiWuSuoYou.pdf
You can play the video or mp3 above and follow along here:
你何时跟我走 / nǐ hé shí gēn wǒ zǒu
When will you go with me?
可你却总是笑我 / kě nǐ què zǒngshì xiào wǒ
But you always just laugh at me
一无所有 / yīwúsuǒyǒu
(with) nothing to my name
我要给你我的追求 / wǒ yào gěi nǐ wǒde zhuīqiú
I want to give you my dreams
还有我的自由 / háiyǒu wǒde zìyóu
(and I) also have my freedom (to give you)
可你却总是笑我 / kě nǐ què zǒngshì xiào wǒ
But you always just laugh at me
一无所有 / yīwúsuǒyǒu
(with) nothing to my name
噢 你何时跟我走 / ō nǐ hé shí gēn wǒ zǒu
Oh! When will you go with me?
噢 你何时跟我走 / ō nǐ hé shí gēn wǒ zǒu
Oh! When will you go with me?
脚下这地在走 / jiǎo xià zhè dì zài zǒu
The ground beneath my feet is moving
身边那水在流 / shēnbiān nà shuǐ zài liú
The water beside me is flowing
可你却总是笑我 / kě nǐ què zǒngshì xiào wǒ
But you always just laugh at me
一无所有 / yīwúsuǒyǒu
(with) nothing to my name
为何你总是笑个没够 / wèihé nǐ zǒngshì xiào gè méi gòu
Why is your laughter never enough?
为何我总要追求 / wèihé wǒ zǒng yào zhuīqiú
Why will I always search?
难道在你面前我永远 / nándào zài nǐ miànqián wǒ yǒngyuǎn
Could it be that before you I’ll forever…
是一无所有 / shì yīwúsuǒyǒu
…have nothing to my name?
噢 你何时跟我走 / ō nǐ hé shí gēn wǒ zǒu
Oh! When will you go with me?
噢 你何时跟我走 / ō nǐ hé shí gēn wǒ zǒu
Oh! When will you go with me?
[instrumental break]
脚下这地在走 / jiǎo xià zhè dì zài zǒu
The ground under my feet is moving
身边那水在流 / shēnbiān nà shuǐ zài liú
The water beside me is flowing
脚下这地在走 / jiǎo xià zhè dì zài zǒu
The ground under my feet is moving
身边那水在流 / shēnbiān nà shuǐ zài liú
The water beside me is flowing
告诉你我等了很久 / gàosu nǐ wǒ děng le hěn jiǔ
(I’m) telling you I’ve waited a long time
告诉你我最后的要求 / gàosu nǐ wǒ zuìhòu de yāoqiú
(So I’m) telling you my final request
我要抓起你的双手 / wǒ yào zhuā qǐ nǐde shuāngshǒu
I want to grab you by the hands
你这就跟我走 / nǐ zhè jiù gēn wǒ zǒu
And then you’ll go with me
这时你的手在颤抖 / zhè shí nǐde shǒu zài chàndǒu
This time your hands are trembling
这时你的泪在流 / zhè shí nǐde lèi zài liú
This time your tears are flowing
莫非你是正在告诉我 / mòfēi nǐ shì zhèngzài gàosu wǒ
Can it be that you are telling me
你爱我一无所有 / nǐ ài wǒ yīwúsuǒyǒu
You love me with nothing to my name?
噢 你这就跟我走 / ō nǐ zhè jiù gēn wǒ zǒu
Oh! Now you’ll go with me
噢 你这就跟我走 / ō nǐ zhè jiù gēn wǒ zǒu
Oh! Now you’ll go with me
[guitaaarrrr soooloooo!!!]
脚下这地在走 / jiǎo xià zhè dì zài zǒu
The ground under my feet is moving
身边那水在流 / shēnbiān nà shuǐ zài liú
The water beside me is flowing
脚下这地在走 / jiǎo xià zhè dì zài zǒu
The ground under my feet is moving
身边那水在流 / shēnbiān nà shuǐ zài liú
The water beside me is flowing
噢 你这就跟我走 / ō nǐ zhè jiù gēn wǒ zǒu
Oh! Now you’ll go with me
When a Chinese friend in Tianjin downloaded a bunch of songs for me to learn, he made a point to highlight this one. Our Chinese textbooks have a whole lesson devoted to it, and when our teachers taught it they said it represents their generation. But I have a couple teenage Mainlanders in my ESL classes here in Vancouver, and none of them have even heard of this song or Cuī Jiàn. Of course, that’s not the only significant 20-year-old piece of Chinese history that they didn’t know about, so I assigned them some homework involving Google. Still waiting to see how they respond.
The NYT presents three different Chinese views of the traditional vs. simplified Chinese characters debate: “The Utopian Ideal in Writing,” “Elitism vs. Populism,” “The Chinese Canon, Diminished” and “How a Computer Might Respond.”
Conversational Landmine
I guess this is one of those things that most foreigners in China discover sooner or later, though I didn’t realize until recently that this is a sensitive nerve for a lot of Han Chinese (Han are the majority ethnic group in China at 92%). Apparently the idea that there could be racism in China is outright rejected by a lot of Chinese: “‘Racism’ is never in Chinese minds,” says one commenter from Hong Kong. “We don’t have racism issues.” Yet multiple glaring, text-book examples of racism instantly and effortlessly spring to the minds of foreigners who’ve spent significant time in China. They’ve experienced or witnessed it for themselves, and they can’t believe that anyone would seriously deny that it exists. The Mainlanders, however, are offended that a foreigner would even suggest it.
My point here is that foreigners and Chinese need to tread carefully if having cross-cultural conversations about “racism.” Culturally we approach racism differently, and this combined with Mainlanders’ sensitivity regarding how Westerners view China means the potential for miscommunication and/or offense is immense.
Overweight Baggage Fees
The average foreigner and the average Mainlander typically understand “racism” in very different ways. It’s a loaded subject inside and outside China; each of our respective societies and cultures still struggle with diversity. Obviously not everyone in China thinks the same, and as Westerners we have our own historical baggage that hinders our understanding and handling of race and diversity today. The same commenter I quoted above says that we (non-Chinese) are often guilty of “using foreign concept to understand Chinese” and she’s right. All of us, Chinese and non-Chinese, have inherited ‘issues’ from our cultures and histories, and we bring that with us to discussions about racism (even the people-categories I’m using in this post reflect this).
Specific Differences
I’ve only just recently accidentally stepped on this particular conversational landmine, so what follows are just my initial impressions. It seems that when Mainlanders hear the word “racism” they think first of institutional racism, like Nazis and segregation and apartheid. They get offended because to them it sounds like we’re accusing “China,” their state/race/civilization, of deliberate and extreme racist policies (that are usually associated with foreign nations). But North Americans often first think of individuals’ behaviours, like a manager’s subconscious hiring preferences or a person’s choice of friends, and individuals’ attitudes and thinking (personal biases, prejudices, and stereotyping). The North American can’t understand how the Mainlander could expect to be taken seriously when denying the obvious existence of racist attitudes and behaviours among many individuals in China, while the Mainlander is offended that the foreigner would lump their nation in with segregated South Africa and Nazi Germany. Neither side does a very good job of communicating to the other, even when trying to explain.
Online Discussion Drama
Here are a few recent links to articles and ‘conversations’ about race issues in China that demonstrate how muddled this topic can be:
I don’t suggest you actually read through all the comments, especially on the Fool’s Mountain links; it’s not worth your time. But a quick skim will at least give a taste of what some Chinese with good English have to say about it.
Pronounced: qí mǎ zhǎo mǎ Literally: “ride a horse, seek a horse” Means: Apparently this can be used a couple of different ways: (1) working one job while looking for a better one (what I’ll be doing if I ever end up teaching English in China). (2) to not realize that you already have the thing you’re seeking.
If anyone has a clearer explanation, I’d love to hear it! (Thanks, fran!)
The China Beat provides a helpful summary of a dystopian novel critical of the way things are in China: "The novel can be read ... as a realistic presentation of the shocking darkness behind the dazzling economic miracle created by the Chinese model. It also proposes that China’s younger generations suffer from the consequences of collective amnesia and historical half-truths... The book can also be read ... as an allegory of the modern nation-state. Taking China as a case study, by questioning the morality and political legitimacy of the Chinese model of development, the novel is intended to lead us to the potential catastrophes that a modern nation-state may bring about if it is out of its people’s control."
The good doctor in Beijing recently conducted a new air pollution survey around the city, comparing indoor and outdoor pollution, and the effects of things like air purifiers.
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Cuī Jiàn (崔健) is often called “the father of Chinese rock.” He first performed “Nothing to My Name” on a TV talent show in 1985 and then at a major concert in 1986. China’s urban young people ate it up. This month marks the 20th anniversary of a third significant performance, but I’ll let you follow the links at the end of this post to discover the more dramatic and sensitive details about the significance of Cuī Jiàn and “Nothing to My Name.” 
Canada:
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The States:
Brazil:
UK:
