*This blog was written November 8th, 2006*
I teach at a campus about 30 minutes outside of the city of Changsha. So, everyday day I take a bus to and from the school. Today, at the end of the day as I was walking across my campus on the way to the bus to go home, I noticed a small group of students standing in a circle and shouting about something. I couldn't quite see what was going on, so I walked closer to investigate. As I approached, the students stepped aside to reveal a scene straight out of a kungfu movie. Only, this grisly movie was being acted out by kids who couldn't have been older than third graders.
It was a fight; a really rough fight. I watched, horrified and shocked, as I saw two pint-sized students engaged in mortal combat. It was brutal. There was eye-gouging, choking, and even kicks to the head.
I ran over and pulled the two of them apart just as one was digging his fingers into the other's eye socket. They were both panting heavily, but once I stepped in they seemed to calm down. For my part, I felt lucky that these kids were less than half my size and that I could so easily stop them. After I separated them, they remained silent as I held them arms-length from one another, but there was fire burning in their eyes.
Luckily, they both came out of the scrape in pretty good condition. One of them had a bloody nose and the other's shirt was torn, but these certainly weren't life-threatening wounds. I asked them to apologize in English, but they didn't understand. I asked again in Chinese, but they still remained silent. I really wanted them to make nice, but clearly it wasn't going to happen. Feeling slightly defeated, slightly awed, and mostly feeling disturbed, I called a Chinese teacher over to clean up the scene and I ran to catch my bus.
Oh China... Land of mortal kindergarten combat.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Quentin Tarantino Messes Up
No one doubts that American filmmaker Quentin Tarantino is a cinematic prodigy. You'd be hard pressed to find an auteur who has as much love and respect for the silver screen as he does. Usually his movies are overflowing with obscure cinematic references and tributes. This man does his homework and generally doesn't make mistakes. But, while watching Kill Bill 2 this weekend with my dearest Dai Li, I found that the golden man of pulp cinema isn't as infallible as he seems.
At the beginning of the awesome scene "The Cruel Tutelage of Pai Mei", the scene in which Beatrix Kiddo goes to the Sichuan province in China to study with a kung fu master, Dai Li yells, "Hey! They don't speak Guangdong hua in Sichuan!" She was right, Pai Mai wasn't speaking Mandarin, he was speaking Cantonese (called Guangdong hua in Mandarin), which also explains why I couldn't understand much of what was being said. In fact, the actor playing Pai Mai, Chia Hui Liu, is from Hong Kong where most people speak Cantonese rather than Mandarin. I assume that while Chia probably speaks a bit of Mandarin, Tarantino had him speak his native tongue so he wouldn't butcher the pronunciation. Still, the Chinese person I was watching the movie with didn't buy this, and neither do I.
Mandarin Speaking Skills: 1, Tarantino's Film Veracity: 0
At the beginning of the awesome scene "The Cruel Tutelage of Pai Mei", the scene in which Beatrix Kiddo goes to the Sichuan province in China to study with a kung fu master, Dai Li yells, "Hey! They don't speak Guangdong hua in Sichuan!" She was right, Pai Mai wasn't speaking Mandarin, he was speaking Cantonese (called Guangdong hua in Mandarin), which also explains why I couldn't understand much of what was being said. In fact, the actor playing Pai Mai, Chia Hui Liu, is from Hong Kong where most people speak Cantonese rather than Mandarin. I assume that while Chia probably speaks a bit of Mandarin, Tarantino had him speak his native tongue so he wouldn't butcher the pronunciation. Still, the Chinese person I was watching the movie with didn't buy this, and neither do I.
Mandarin Speaking Skills: 1, Tarantino's Film Veracity: 0
Friday, April 20, 2007
China and the "Black Man"
The Chinese term for a person of African descent is 黑人 (hēirén), literally meaning "black man". Similar to the way in which African-Americans are commonly called "black" in America, the term hēirén is innocuous and inoffensive to Chinese people. But, China doesn't always fair so well with pan-Africa racial relations.The Chinese are an interesting bunch. On one hand, most of the country is very welcoming and open to most foreigners, including those from the African continent and also those of African descent. As China tries to modernize, there is a genuine want to be open to the world and to learn from other cultures. There are, for example, more Africans in the city of Changsha than any other group of foreigners. But on the other hand, China doesn't quite understand racial sensitivity.
Take, for instance, Darlie toothpaste. The Darlie logo is a grinning black man with pearly white teeth who is wearing a top hat. It looks unmistakably like an image from the era when racist and stereotyped images were commonly used to sell products in the Southern United States. Basically, it looks like a man in blackface.
It turns out the Darlie toothpaste was created by a Hong Kong company and was originally named "Darkie". Colgate-Palmolive bought the company in 1985 and quickly changed the name to avoid being branded racist or creating a media-relations fiasco. Still, the blackface-like image remains, and the name of the toothpaste in Chinese is still "Black Man Toothpaste".
Recently, a Canadian women was aghast to find a label on her newly bought dark brown couch identifying the color as "Nigger Brown". After making a complaint, the women learned that the label was made in China and was the result of old translating software that turned 深棕 (dark brown) into the offending word. The women has since filed a lawsuit against the manufacturer for not catching the word before the couch was put on a sales floor. The Chinese company says they can't be blamed because they had no idea what the word meant and they have now updated their translating software. You can read an article about it here.
In fact, the Chinese word for "that" is pronounced "niga", sounding almost identical to the racist English term. "Niga" is also used as a connective pause, the same way we use "ummm" in English. Most Chinese have no idea what the word means in English. When I first moved to China, it really threw me off balance to here "niga" uttered so often without knowing its meaning.
At the heart of the matter lies in the fact that China was isolated from the rest of the world for so long. To the best of my knowledge, China never had a hand in the African slave trade, nor do most Chinese people know about slavery in America and the racism that sprung from it. This ignorance is both a blessing and a curse. On the upside, it means that Chinese people don't have any longstanding, slavery-linked, racist attitudes toward blacks, as we do in America. But, it also means that they find don't understand (without explanation from a Westerner) why a toothpaste like Darlie is so offensive, or why sensitivity to racial differences is so important.
As China integrates further into the world, including preparing for the summer Olympics, these are issues and topics Chinese people will have to address.
*Update*
I've written a new post in which I discuss issues raised in this post in greater depth. You can read it here: China and the Black Man (Pt. 2)
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Supreme Court's Decision Against Abortion Puts Panda In Peril
Pandas are are a national treasure in China. Everyone loves them, and everyone thinks they're cuter than hell. And who can blame them? Anything that sleeps and eats bamboo for a living get my vote of confidence. Yet, not all is happy in Pandaville.
A breaking news video from a reputable news source has broken a stunning story that a panda in Washington D.C. has suffered horrific abuse at the hands of her American captors! And now, to make matters worse, her keepers are trying to strip the pregnant panda of her right to choose. As an American I am ashamed.
"No want little panda. Take out baby. No want baby. Cement box... No sky... No friends... Hate life... No want this life for baby," said Yun Mei the panda.
Should the panda be allowed to abort her baby? Will the U.S. Supreme Court stop her? Watch the story. You decide.
Panda Demands Abortion
A breaking news video from a reputable news source has broken a stunning story that a panda in Washington D.C. has suffered horrific abuse at the hands of her American captors! And now, to make matters worse, her keepers are trying to strip the pregnant panda of her right to choose. As an American I am ashamed.
"No want little panda. Take out baby. No want baby. Cement box... No sky... No friends... Hate life... No want this life for baby," said Yun Mei the panda.
Should the panda be allowed to abort her baby? Will the U.S. Supreme Court stop her? Watch the story. You decide.
Panda Demands Abortion
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Sanitation? Mei You! (Non-existent)
As long as I'm talking about the differences between China and the West on issues of cleanliness, I must talk about sanitation, or rather, lack thereof. China is a dirty, dirty place. If you're reading this from the comfort of your home in a Western country you really can't understand just how dirty it is. Sorry, you just can't. It's unfathomable. I could write a whole novel about this, but I'll attempt to keep it short.
Public spitting is rampant. People spit on the street. People spit on the floor inside of restaurants. People even spit on crowded buses. For me, the spitting itself isn't as bad as the pre-spit wind up, a long phlegmy hawking sound as the offender prepares to clean his sinuses. I've now lived in China for eight months and I still cringe every time I hear that sound.A writer once deemed this sound the national anthem of China. Quite right I say.
Beyond spitting, there is just a high general level of dirt, grime and sludge. Most people throw garbage on the street without a second thought, even in beautiful scenic areas. City and country alike are awash in discarded beer cans, cigarette butts, and instant noodle containers.
Pollution is so unchecked that large portions of the Yangtze have become uninhabitable for most river-going creatures. The skies in Chinese cities are perpetually brown, and you can only see blue if you crane your neck and look directly up. When it rains, it rains acid.
But, like almost everything else in China, sanitation standards are rapidly changing. The Communist leaders in Beijing are in a tizzy about how foreigners will view their country during the summer Olympics next year. Will they find it overcrowded, polluted, and full of rude, callous people lacking the most basic of manners? This is the fear of the government.
So, to prepare China for the world, Beijing is undergoing vast renovations, both to it's infrastructure and to the very way of life for its inhabitants. Public transportation is being revamped and the subway is being expanded. Bad English signs (lovely termed "Chinglish" by foreign residents of China) are being corrected and replaced. And Beijingers themselves are being given a crash course in Western manners. No cutting in line. No cursing. And, perhaps the most ambitious aim of the government, no more spitting. A hilarious article was posted today in the NY Times about Beijing's efforts to revamp itself for the games. "Given that Chinese leaders regard the Olympics as a milestone event to showcase China to the world, they obviously do not want to be embarrassed," says the article. A highly recommended read.
*On a side note--My last two posts have touched on the grimier side of China, but make no mistake, I really love this country and it's people. I'll try to touch on China's more pleasant side in some future postings.
Public spitting is rampant. People spit on the street. People spit on the floor inside of restaurants. People even spit on crowded buses. For me, the spitting itself isn't as bad as the pre-spit wind up, a long phlegmy hawking sound as the offender prepares to clean his sinuses. I've now lived in China for eight months and I still cringe every time I hear that sound.A writer once deemed this sound the national anthem of China. Quite right I say.
Beyond spitting, there is just a high general level of dirt, grime and sludge. Most people throw garbage on the street without a second thought, even in beautiful scenic areas. City and country alike are awash in discarded beer cans, cigarette butts, and instant noodle containers.
Pollution is so unchecked that large portions of the Yangtze have become uninhabitable for most river-going creatures. The skies in Chinese cities are perpetually brown, and you can only see blue if you crane your neck and look directly up. When it rains, it rains acid.
But, like almost everything else in China, sanitation standards are rapidly changing. The Communist leaders in Beijing are in a tizzy about how foreigners will view their country during the summer Olympics next year. Will they find it overcrowded, polluted, and full of rude, callous people lacking the most basic of manners? This is the fear of the government.
So, to prepare China for the world, Beijing is undergoing vast renovations, both to it's infrastructure and to the very way of life for its inhabitants. Public transportation is being revamped and the subway is being expanded. Bad English signs (lovely termed "Chinglish" by foreign residents of China) are being corrected and replaced. And Beijingers themselves are being given a crash course in Western manners. No cutting in line. No cursing. And, perhaps the most ambitious aim of the government, no more spitting. A hilarious article was posted today in the NY Times about Beijing's efforts to revamp itself for the games. "Given that Chinese leaders regard the Olympics as a milestone event to showcase China to the world, they obviously do not want to be embarrassed," says the article. A highly recommended read.
*On a side note--My last two posts have touched on the grimier side of China, but make no mistake, I really love this country and it's people. I'll try to touch on China's more pleasant side in some future postings.
Public Hygiene
The concept of privacy is different in China than it is in most of the Western word. Of course, China is the most populous country on earth, so it is little wonder that Chinese people don’t bother or care to look for seclusion when going about their day to day lives. China is a crowded country. Good luck finding a place to be alone.
The differences between China and the West in the pursuit of privacy extend to nearly ever facet of life. The most striking of these differences, that is to say, the one that was most off-putting to me when I first arrived, is personal hygiene. Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t to say Chinese people don’t take care of themselves. Most people born after the Cultural Revolution (roughly anyone under the age of 45) certainly care a lot about the way they look and of taking care of themselves. But, what we view as guarded, private activities, the Chinese comfortably perform in the most public of settings.
Tooth brushing is often done on the street with a bowl full of water (Who needs a sink drain when you’ve gone some perfectly nice asphalt on which to spit?). Men shave their faces in hotel lobbies and in grocery stores, sometimes with cordless electric razors loudly buzzing away as they pick through the produce section. People clip their nails (fingers and toes) on public buses, to hell with where the clippings might land. A friend told me a particularly frightening tale about a woman who sat next to her on a bus who was using tweezers to pull hair sprouts from a mole on her face. Charming.
Forget personal hygiene. China has invented public hygiene.
I walked into the teacher’s office at my school last week in and saw the head teacher washing his hair in the middle of the room with the help of a student. First, the student fetched the teacher a large bucket of water. Then the teacher bent over the bucket and had the student pour water over his head while he scrubbed vigorously. I didn’t see any shampoo. This was the very first thing I saw at work that day—public hair washing in an office. I knew it was going to be a good day. And, of course, it was.
The differences between China and the West in the pursuit of privacy extend to nearly ever facet of life. The most striking of these differences, that is to say, the one that was most off-putting to me when I first arrived, is personal hygiene. Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t to say Chinese people don’t take care of themselves. Most people born after the Cultural Revolution (roughly anyone under the age of 45) certainly care a lot about the way they look and of taking care of themselves. But, what we view as guarded, private activities, the Chinese comfortably perform in the most public of settings.
Tooth brushing is often done on the street with a bowl full of water (Who needs a sink drain when you’ve gone some perfectly nice asphalt on which to spit?). Men shave their faces in hotel lobbies and in grocery stores, sometimes with cordless electric razors loudly buzzing away as they pick through the produce section. People clip their nails (fingers and toes) on public buses, to hell with where the clippings might land. A friend told me a particularly frightening tale about a woman who sat next to her on a bus who was using tweezers to pull hair sprouts from a mole on her face. Charming.
Forget personal hygiene. China has invented public hygiene.
I walked into the teacher’s office at my school last week in and saw the head teacher washing his hair in the middle of the room with the help of a student. First, the student fetched the teacher a large bucket of water. Then the teacher bent over the bucket and had the student pour water over his head while he scrubbed vigorously. I didn’t see any shampoo. This was the very first thing I saw at work that day—public hair washing in an office. I knew it was going to be a good day. And, of course, it was.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
A Humbling Experience. A Dumb American. A Near Riot.
A few weeks ago I had an embarrassing reminder of just how ignorant Americans sometimes are about the rest of the world…me included.
I was playing a game with one of my most advanced junior 1 classes (11-13 year olds) and everything was going smoothly until the very end of class. I had the class divided into two teams, girls versus boys. (Chinese people go nuts for any kind of competition and when I’m looking for a sure fire way to get every student interested and involved in a lesson I simply split them into teams and watch as epic battles ensue.) For this particular game I asked a person from each team a question (exp. How many states are there in America?). If they answered correctly they had a chance to throw a paper airplane at a large dartboard-esque target I drew on the blackboard.
The trouble began right after the final bell rang, signaling the end of class. When the bell rang the girl’s team (ironically named “The Winners”) was trailing the boys with a score of 25 to 45. I decided to give them one more shot. Almost every girl in class shot her hand up in the air to answer a question, eager for a chance to redeem their gender and snatch victory from the boys. The previous two questions I asked students to name the capitals of France and the U.S.A., so I decided to keep on this track and ask another capital. I chose a tiny girl with huge glasses to answer the question. She stood up with a massive grin on her face. “What,” I said without thinking, “is the capital of Australia?” (Before you read any further, please stop for a moment and ask yourself the same question. Do you know the answer? Are you sure? Ok, read ahead.)
Without pausing the student confidently answered the question. The only problem was, I either didn’t hear or didn’t understand what she said. “Can you repeat that?” I asked. She said it again. Whatever she was saying started with a K or a C, but I couldn’t understand it for the life of me. “Please spell that,” I said to her. “C A N B E R R A,” she said, pronouncing each letter clearly and pointedly. I wrote it on the board and stared long and hard. Canberra? I’d never even heard of that. “Wrong!” I yelled. “The correct answer is Sydney.”
That was it, the girls lost it. “No! No! You are wrong,” they screamed. “Our Chinese teacher told us the capital of Australia is Canberra!” It was at this point that I dug myself deeper into a hole that was already bored through the middle of the earth. “Well then, I’m sorry but your Chinese teacher is wrong,” I blithely said. “The boys win.”
Pandemonium. Anarchy. The girls were all standing and shouting at me in Chinese. I had no idea what they were saying, but they were frothing at the mouth. Two girls burst into tears. An unknown assailant chucked a wad of paper at my head. A few girls stood on their desks and began pumping their fists in the air (yes, this REALLY happened). I was half expecting a Molotov cocktail to smack me in the face. The boys meanwhile sat calmly in their desks, snarky grins smeared across their faces.
Things looked bad and I had to act quickly. “Maybe I’m wrong about Australia,” I sheepishly admitted. “I’ll look up the right answer for next class.” Then I gave the girls another question (the capital of England), which they easily got right. The tiny girl with huge glasses took a shot at the target with her paper airplane and missed. The boys won and I hurried out of class with my tail between my legs.
As soon as I stepped out of the classroom I phoned Tess (a fellow WorldTeach teacher at my school), told her my sorry tale, and then asked her the capital of Australia. She wasn't sure either, so she looked it up online and low and behold, the girls were right. I quickly thanked her and hung up. I felt queasy. Attempting to salvage some pride, I next called Jackie, another WorldTeach teacher and one who had just returned from a vacation in Australia weeks prior. If she didn’t know the answer, I reasoned, I was partially pardoned because most Americans must be ignorant shmucks when it comes to our friends in Oceania.
Jackie didn’t know either.
The next week I returned to the riotous class, confessed my sin, and apologized. Actually, the class seemed to have forgotten the whole incident. “Mei guan xi! Mei guan xi! Mei shi,” they kept saying. It’s all right. It doesn’t matter. Still, I’m not sure how much effect the incident had on my credibility with the class or the amount of respect they have for me.
Stupid Americans. I knew I should have taken geography in high school.
I was playing a game with one of my most advanced junior 1 classes (11-13 year olds) and everything was going smoothly until the very end of class. I had the class divided into two teams, girls versus boys. (Chinese people go nuts for any kind of competition and when I’m looking for a sure fire way to get every student interested and involved in a lesson I simply split them into teams and watch as epic battles ensue.) For this particular game I asked a person from each team a question (exp. How many states are there in America?). If they answered correctly they had a chance to throw a paper airplane at a large dartboard-esque target I drew on the blackboard.
The trouble began right after the final bell rang, signaling the end of class. When the bell rang the girl’s team (ironically named “The Winners”) was trailing the boys with a score of 25 to 45. I decided to give them one more shot. Almost every girl in class shot her hand up in the air to answer a question, eager for a chance to redeem their gender and snatch victory from the boys. The previous two questions I asked students to name the capitals of France and the U.S.A., so I decided to keep on this track and ask another capital. I chose a tiny girl with huge glasses to answer the question. She stood up with a massive grin on her face. “What,” I said without thinking, “is the capital of Australia?” (Before you read any further, please stop for a moment and ask yourself the same question. Do you know the answer? Are you sure? Ok, read ahead.)
Without pausing the student confidently answered the question. The only problem was, I either didn’t hear or didn’t understand what she said. “Can you repeat that?” I asked. She said it again. Whatever she was saying started with a K or a C, but I couldn’t understand it for the life of me. “Please spell that,” I said to her. “C A N B E R R A,” she said, pronouncing each letter clearly and pointedly. I wrote it on the board and stared long and hard. Canberra? I’d never even heard of that. “Wrong!” I yelled. “The correct answer is Sydney.”
That was it, the girls lost it. “No! No! You are wrong,” they screamed. “Our Chinese teacher told us the capital of Australia is Canberra!” It was at this point that I dug myself deeper into a hole that was already bored through the middle of the earth. “Well then, I’m sorry but your Chinese teacher is wrong,” I blithely said. “The boys win.”
Pandemonium. Anarchy. The girls were all standing and shouting at me in Chinese. I had no idea what they were saying, but they were frothing at the mouth. Two girls burst into tears. An unknown assailant chucked a wad of paper at my head. A few girls stood on their desks and began pumping their fists in the air (yes, this REALLY happened). I was half expecting a Molotov cocktail to smack me in the face. The boys meanwhile sat calmly in their desks, snarky grins smeared across their faces.
Things looked bad and I had to act quickly. “Maybe I’m wrong about Australia,” I sheepishly admitted. “I’ll look up the right answer for next class.” Then I gave the girls another question (the capital of England), which they easily got right. The tiny girl with huge glasses took a shot at the target with her paper airplane and missed. The boys won and I hurried out of class with my tail between my legs.
As soon as I stepped out of the classroom I phoned Tess (a fellow WorldTeach teacher at my school), told her my sorry tale, and then asked her the capital of Australia. She wasn't sure either, so she looked it up online and low and behold, the girls were right. I quickly thanked her and hung up. I felt queasy. Attempting to salvage some pride, I next called Jackie, another WorldTeach teacher and one who had just returned from a vacation in Australia weeks prior. If she didn’t know the answer, I reasoned, I was partially pardoned because most Americans must be ignorant shmucks when it comes to our friends in Oceania.
Jackie didn’t know either.
The next week I returned to the riotous class, confessed my sin, and apologized. Actually, the class seemed to have forgotten the whole incident. “Mei guan xi! Mei guan xi! Mei shi,” they kept saying. It’s all right. It doesn’t matter. Still, I’m not sure how much effect the incident had on my credibility with the class or the amount of respect they have for me.
Stupid Americans. I knew I should have taken geography in high school.
Duai Bu Qi (Sorry)
I’d like to take a moment to apologize for not writing in my blog as often as I said I would. I fell behind with writing and I’m so busy in China that it can be difficult to catch up. Additionally, for the past two months the site that hosts my blog, blogger.com, has been blocked in China. Don’t ask me why. However, I’ve found a way to get around the blockade and I’ve recommitted to writing in the blog. It’s important for me to share my experiences here in China with my friends, and it’s also important to write some of my thoughts, memories and experiences down so I can reflect on and remember them later. Also, I realize that I need to keep up my writing so it doesn’t go to the dogs, particularly since on an average day here I now speak an equal amount of Chinese as I do English. I’d hate for my writing to become an exercise in Chinglish.
That being said, if you read my blog and see something interesting, or have a comment to share, please please do so! It’s always nice to know that others find my writing valuable in some way, or, at the very least, that someone is in fact reading the blog.
I’ve been a little bit better about updating my photos, so check out the link on the right side of this page from time to time, or just click here. Also, I still plan on adding some videos to Youtube so I’ll be sure to post a link when that happens!
Love and Respect,
Zach
That being said, if you read my blog and see something interesting, or have a comment to share, please please do so! It’s always nice to know that others find my writing valuable in some way, or, at the very least, that someone is in fact reading the blog.
I’ve been a little bit better about updating my photos, so check out the link on the right side of this page from time to time, or just click here. Also, I still plan on adding some videos to Youtube so I’ll be sure to post a link when that happens!
Love and Respect,
Zach
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