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From Magic City Morning Star R.P. BenDedek Part Twenty-Two in a series of articles about the experiences of an Australian Conversational English Teacher in Hong Hu, Hubei Province, China. Self published author of 'The King's Calendar:The Secret of Qumran', (A chronological study of the Bible, Josephus, and The Damascus Document of the Essenes), R.P. BenDedek is a pseudonym. National Holiday October 1st to 5th.
During the summer holiday, my student Ming Xing decided that he would not go to university, as his entrance result limited his options. Instead he decided to repeat grade 3 in his local town. This turned out fortunate because his father's tractor was hit by a truck as it entered the main road, and father was seriously hurt, and as a result must limit his workload, which as a farmer is difficult to do.
Well, as it turned out, they decided to do the rice harvest during the National Holiday week, and Ming Xing asked if I would come. At that time however, I could not commit to coming, as there were preparations for Judy, the Chinese/American foreign teacher at No.5 School, to travel to Guilin with some teachers from her school, and I had told Judy that I would accompany her. Despite this, I was well aware that the trip may not eventuate, for sometimes, Chinese people make offers that they have no intention of fulfilling, simply to be polite and to show their respect. If you find this a difficult concept, it is no less so for the young Chinese person, who often has to face repeated disappointments before learning the lesson. As it turned out, two days prior to the anticipated trip, and with nothing concrete yet in the pipeline, I informed MingXing that I was coming. The following day Judy was informed of the official arrangements for the trip. We ended up having quite different trips, and mine ended up being guilt free. In order to fulfill their promise, the school forced an English teacher and his wife and child to go with Judy, and for this dubious honour, they were required to pay all but 500 yuan out of their own expenses, and as a result, have had to cancel their planned vacation for next summer. There's nothing like being forced to spend a small fortune on a trip that you didn't want to take, and only because some fool promised the foreigner a trip, and because everyone else found a good excuse not to go. On October First 2004, Judy set of for Guilin, and I set off on the local bus to FengKou.
The original plan was for the two of us to leave early in the morning. By lunchtime Zhan Yan had not arrived. Instead he called to say he could not go and that I should go alone. This meant he had to write notes for the bus company, the bus driver, and the Rickshaw driver (who would have to take me from FengKou to HengJi). I left Hong Hu around 1:30pm I seem to recall, in a little local bus that only cost a few yuan, although I can't remember the price. It took about an hour to reach the end of the line at Fengkou, and then I had to catch a Rickshaw. These are motorised of course, and I was already aware that last time Ming Xing and I caught one to his home it cost 15 RMB. When you get off any bus in Rural China, you get mobbed by everyone wanting to know where you are going, and would you please take their bus or taxi, or rickshaw. This day was no different. There was a lady there with a beautiful big rickshaw, and she quoted 30 RMB for the Trip. I told her that if I asked the others they would say 15 RMB, but as they were all listening, I knew the battle was lost, and so decided to go. Well, it turns out that last time Ming Xing and I caught the rickshaw it was not 15 RMB, but 10 RMB, and that for the 30RMB I paid, I could have taken a TAXI! "Taxi? Why the hell didn't you tell me a taxi would have taken me out to your house, it would have been a damn sight more comfortable?" "I was trying to save you money!" In rural China, ALWAYS take comfort over saving a few yuan.
She got back on the motorcycle in the partitioned off front of the Rickshaw, and I threw my first bag in the back. As soon as she felt the vibration, she hit the gas. I did a quick bolt, grabbed the roof, and threw myself up and over the passenger tray, much to the applause and laughter of the locals. Pity no one took a photo of it. I didn't get a photo of the rickshaw (naturally) and when I arrived at Ming Xing's house, I was too busy talking to him to think to take a photo of the Rickshaw. We left FengKou by the northern entrance to the town, shown in the top photo to the left, and made our way along the highway to the HengJi turn off. It took about 20 minutes at most to arrive there, although the driver first had to stop and ask a local where the turn off was. The rear compartment was so closed off from the front, that I had no view at all, otherwise I could have told her where to turn. So off we set down the goat track to HengJi village. The driver drove like a maniac, and if you have ever traveled in a rickshaw, you will know how rough it is even at a slow speed. So rough was it that I could not physically take a photo. I did try, but ended up with a series of photos of the roof and the sky. I also ended up with a headache that lasted right throughout my 4 day stay, right up until I got a massage on my return to Xin Di. The next photograph (top) shows the road that we traveled. It looks even enough in the photo, but believe me it is not.
Along the way, the driver had to stop again and ask some farmers for directions, and as I was seeing the scenery AFTER we had passed it, I lost my bearings. Eventually, I spotted the house and yelled out to the driver. I had to really really yell, and I know it was loud, because I saw MingXing run out of his house to chase the rickshaw.
He flipped out when I told him the price and began to argue with her, but I told him to put a sock in it, because I was glad to have arrived in one piece. "Thirty yuan is too expensive," he said. "For that price you could have taken a taxi!" I could have taken a taxi? If I had known that I would have. It would have been worth Thirty yuan to ride in comfort instead of this bone shaker! He had not thought to tell me that an ordinary taxi would have taken me to the house, because it is such an expense. At any rate I arrived safely. The farm house sits facing the roadway which runs along the side of the canal, and continues on to more villages. On the other side of the canal is the farmland belonging to the next village over. The farmland belonging to HenJi lies behind the village, which puts MingXing's house at the extreme distance from it, but that is not far at all. In this next photo, you can see at the top, a view of the rice threshing at an uncle's house located behind Ming Xing's house, and the bottom photo shows the back view of the village, as seen from the rice fields.
The house itself is rather new, and therefore attractive in comparison with many other houses in these rural areas. There are a couple of steps up to the front landing (so to speak), on the other side of which is the communal area, which, in the west would be called either the living or dining room. This room serves as the chicken coup, the storage area for the bagged rice harvest, and is the place for eating meals. It is a big room with a very high ceiling.
Beyond the Dining room is the Master bedroom to the right, and a storage area to the left, which sits below a set of steps leading to a storage area above, and a door to the rooftop of the house. The rooftop is used for a variety of purposes including the drying of whatever needs drying. It is a great vantage point from which to view the horizon. In this photo to the left it is that area above the front door and front window, that has no roof. It is just like a big balcony. The little building to the right of the house is both the kitchen and barn, and supports everything for daily living, including hay to burn in the fire, the food and crockery (no refrigerator), and of course the indispensable tractor. The 'outhouse' is at the rear of the house, and doubles up as a pig pen. I even took a photo, but the camera makes it look so hygienic that it is pointless displaying the photo. Having stayed in this house before, I was already familiar with the family; and of course, as I have written in an earlier article, MingXing's mother stayed in my home during his Final Exams. Naturally I was greeted as a friend.
Having stowed my gear away in the bedroom, I spent the rest of the afternoon taking in the sights, annoying some local kids fishing and of course talking with MingXing and his family, which also included his Grandmother who turned up to help prepare supper. The last time I stayed here I asked MX if his grandmother would agree to share with me some of the details of her life. Of course he dutifully informed me that Chinese people do not do this, but was not only surprised by her eagerness (which included sending him to me next morning to share more information about a question I had asked the previous day), but was surprised to actually discover that he did not know as much as he thought about her and her origins.
Amongst things I remember from that occasion, she had had her feet bound for 4 years, (and that was in the 40's), had a big family, and in her own words, had undergone paradigm shifts every two to three years, and was glad that China has finally settled down. This was the only time during the four days that I remember seeing her, and missed the opportunity to refresh my memory on some of the things that she had told me previously. I did however get to meet many other members of the family that I had not previously met.
Currently, there are about 300 people in the village, and of these, fifty are uncles, aunts and cousins of Ming Xing, all of whom live in the houses located behind his house, as can be seen in the following photos. This first photograph show first the left view of the village from the front of the house, and then the view from the right side near the kitchen. Notice that the rice crop appears flattened. The night before I arrived there was a terrible storm which flattened a lot of the crops in the village.
I spent most of the time just hanging out with MingXing, his sister who arrived from YiChang the second day I was there, and with a host of local kids, some of whom were related to MingXing.
They said it over and over and over and over again, morning, noon and night. That was all they could say, and all that they were interested to learn. That little tyke in the yellow trousers, was constantly barefoot, had snot constantly hanging from his nose, had the same smudged sticker stuck on his forehead (see photo further down), and a face that never appeared to be washed. The worst of it was the obvious "nit" paint in his hair. "Did he just rub his head on my trousers?" What is worse, nits or snot? And let's not even think about shaking hands. Oh well, it is not important! It doesn't matter! It is normal! As I have a habit of saluting Chinese people who stare at me, I had obviously done this to the two boys the first time I saw them, because they started saluting me, and every truck, car, motorbike, tractor and rickshaw that passed by. It caused quite a bit of bewilderment, especially when I would stand between them and join in.
A few bicycle riders momentarily lost control of their bicycles when they spotted me; as did one truck driver, and for a split second I had visions of him and his truck at the bottom of the canal. Don't laugh it could easily happen. A motorbike rider in XinDi once drove into a cement garden wall while watching my brother and I. He broke the front wheel of the bike. Once two groups of people collided in the streets of XinDi while watching me and not where they were going. Then of course there was that little girl I had to scream at and scare, after she first collided with a parked car, then another bicycle rider, and then almost got hit by a motor bike. We foreigners should wear signs in Chinese around our necks; "Watching foreigners is dangerous to your health." Many people called into the house just to look at the foreign "monkey," and the kids of course just hung around all the time. But if a foreigner eating rice with chopsticks while sitting on the front steps of a village house drew attention, then imagine the reaction when workers saw me arrive in the village fields and start to work. Now I would like to point out here that I really did go work in the fields, and I would like to say that I spent quite a goodly number of hours doing that labourious work, unfortunately, either by virtue of my incompetence or Chinese manners, while I was allowed to work, I was not allowed to work too much. (Sort of defeated the purpose of my being there). On one day MingXing, his cousin and I went to where they were cutting rice. They did let me have a go for a while, but of course, that meant that an experienced person had to stand by and do nothing while I used their scythe. Nevertheless I was taught how to do it, and at what height to cut the stalks, and how to stack it on the stalks behind me.
The next day the three of us went to the fields to help collect and tie up bundles of dried rice. I had not taken a long sleeve shirt with me (being summer) and as the rice stalks will cut you, I had to wear a sweatshirt that I had taken for warmth in the evenings. Naturally I sweated profusely, and everyone got worried about the flush on my cheeks. Not knowing anything about white people, they thought I was getting ill. Nevertheless they let us clear a paddock, and I proudly kept pace with everyone else, including the experienced workers. After an hours work, we three boys were sent off to FengKou to have a bath at the bathhouse, which someone said was now open again. Bathing at home meant either a quick wash, or locking oneself in one of the two bedrooms with a huge tub half filled with water, stripping off, and washing oneself. At night time this must be done with the lights off in case someone peeks through the window curtains.
MingXing walked down the road a bit to where some Rickshaws were parked, and got one to take us to FengKou for 8 yuan (remembering my trip cost 30RMB). So glad was the driver to gawk at (I mean meet) a foreigner, that he stayed with us in town and gave us the return trip for free. As it turned out, the bathhouse was not open, so we headed off to a local supermarket, where I created a lot of interest while buying some sweets, cake, softdrink and coffee to take home for the family and friends. After that we set off to see if one of the two local hotels had a bathhouse (Xĭ Zh�o T�ng). As it turned out they didn't, but for 50 yuan we could hire a hotel room. That seemed a waste as Chinese hotel baths are too small for the average westerner; it would be time consuming for each in turn to take a bath; and why would a Chinese person pay for a shower when they can wash at home (in winter of course they pay for the unlimited hot water in the bathhouse). Having done all to be done, we set off home with our basket of goodies including the coffee I bought. I usually take coffee with me everywhere, including the Qin Chuan hotel, because no one stocks it (too expensive). I was desperate for a coffee. Of course I had not given thought to the fact that I was staying in a farmhouse, and that an electric kettle was an unknown. There was no kettle to put on a gas stove, as the stove was an old fashioned wood stove, in which everything was cooked in the same huge wok that sits inside a hole in the stove top. The only way to obtain hot water was to heat it in the wok. The final flavour of the coffee was ... er.... strange. Why? Because of the taste of the water. As previously mentioned I had had a constant headache, and concluded it was the result of either dehydration or the rickshaw ride. Last time I was at the farm it was winter, and there was an endless supply of hot tea available, but this time being summer, there was nothing to drink. So in effort to rid myself of the headache, I decided I had better drink some water. I had observed a little tap beside the stove. Underneath it was a very big earthenware dish (big enough to be a planting pot for a tree) filled with water. I assumed that the tap kept the pot full. So naturally I turned on the tap. Nothing! Oh well! I'll just have a cup of water from the pot.
Mmmm! Strange taste. Not quite rainwater, but something like it, but with a funny taste. I had expected a metallic taste, but that was not it. So I drank the water, hoping that neither the tap lines nor the water were contaminated. Imagine my shock next day when I saw father bringing bucket after bucket of water up from the canal and pouring it into the big pot. Oy Ve! I had been drinking water straight from the canal. The canal has all manner of rubbish in it including a dead chicken, dead fish, slime, and other decomposing stuff, along with whatever else gets thrown into it. And it is not like it is a fast flowing stream that has a chance to self purify. It was as close as could be to a stagnant pond. Needless to say, I did not die, and fortunately for me it did not affect my stomach, for miraculously I had no need to go to the toilet (in a sitting or squatting position) during the whole four days. In fact, the first time I found myself in such a need, occurred when I returned to XinDi, and exactly 3 seconds after I walked in my own front door. I actually stayed in that position for 30 minutes. (Must have been psychological).
Although I did not get to do much work on the farm, I did enjoy my four days away from Xin Di, a fact which I more appreciate today as I finish this story, for I have just spent 'free weekend' at home, during which time, I had visitor after visitor. This particular free weekend started earlier than usual, with Grade leaving school Friday afternoon after the last of their mid-term examn. (Grade Two went home Saturday afternoon). With the internet being what it is like at the moment, I was desperate to finish this story but had constant interruptions. My clean house ended up with footprints all over it; The kitchen looked like a bomb went off in it; Rubbish and food scraps littered every nook and cranny; and each new visitor commented on how dirty the place looked. I told one group, "Why clean it up so you can all dirty it? It is better to clean it up after you all leave!" Oh for a simple country life, where the road outside the house gets swept three times a day to remove all the litter that accumulates, where mosquitoes eat you alive, and where the scenery, particularly at dawn, just takes your breath away. Additional Photographs:
R.P.Bendedek Email: rpbendedek@hotmail.com Note: During a change of Servers some photographs were lost. This file was amended August 2007 with some substitutions. "The King's Calendar" is a chronological study of the historical books of the Bible (Kings and Chronicles), Josephus, Seder Olam Rabbah, and the Damascus Document of The Dead Sea Scrolls. © Copyright 2002-2007 by Magic City Morning Star |
