Some Days I'm Glad I Brought My Teddy Bear

ON THE THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT

In America, people say a lot of things about my new country. They whisper in hushed tone about evils of Communism. They wonder why this place does so well economically. They worry about how they now own America's debt. They especially don't enjoy the idea of communal-ism. "How can we trust a country where no one can think for themselves?", they'd say to me.

Now, I've seen the documentaries, I know this country is not the freest place to live. But people here are not automatons. People here feel and think as radically as any American. How they channel their feelings is a totally different matter. But China has a history, for better or worse, of the youth trying to create radical change through non-violent and violent means, much like the States does.

Did you know that not everyone here is a registered Communist? You have to apply, and many people get turned down. Did you know that people here do not consider this country a Communist country? It is Socialist nation. Did you know that Chairman Mao is not worshiped as the ultimate conceiver of social utopia? People think Mao only started the job and perhaps got some things wrong. Hence all of the reforms. And did you know that plenty of people, in the quiet of their homes, with the companionship of their American friends, are really quite skeptical of the government? Its corruption, greed, connections, and bribes. (A side note: By people here, America is considered the freest place on earth. Somewhere where anything goes. And this assumption is passed on to Americans, who are expected to act in pretty crazy ways (and get away with it) and be accepting of just about anything that is told to them, because we come from such an accepting country.)

But sometimes things happen here that really scare me. Every fall the freshman get on-campus military training. Every day during September and part of October, I woke up to their war cries. They would train all day, practicing marching drills and ingesting plenty of propaganda. Anyone could go and watch this process because it took place on both the small and large athletic fields.

Censorship here is a real thing. The Google search engine for mainland China no longer exists because Google refused to be so censored. If you want to use Google, you use the Hong Kong version. Usually very different webpages come up if you compare Google.com's and Google.hk's results. Gmail and Google.hk are the only sites I use daily that I don't need my VPN for. This blog cannot be read via Chinese internet. But that does not mean that people here don't notice this censorship. Just the other day, a random student came into my class -- which is a pretty normal occurrence considering how popular learning English is -- with a strange request. During the break, he beckons me over. "How do you use YouTube and Facebook in China?", he says. I just blink at him. Who is this kid? Would it be bad if I explained the concept of VPNs to him? (Many of my Chinese friends have one, though maybe this is because they know us, the Americans, who all have one.) Would it be bad if I outed myself to him as having one? Is he a party member? Is learning how to use YouTube and Facebook the only reason this guy came to my class? In the end I decided to play it safe. "Don't you know? You can't use those sites in China," I say. "Oh. Okay," he says, accepting my obvious lie to save my face. I haven't seen him since.

Religious oppression is also quite a real thing here. Only government-registered religious organizations may be worshiped at. That means that all home worship is illegal, irregardless of the religion. A bible study group made up of Nong Da underclassmen was arrested and fined for holding a bible study in a room in a cheap hotel right outside campus (in North Yard) just a few weeks ago. The foreign teachers have a few Christian friends, which is how we found out. No local or school news published anything about these arrests. (A side note: the only negative news reported about in a Chinese news channel or newspaper occurs in foreign countries; only positive stories occur in the nation.) The best part of this story is that the parents of the arrested kids petitioned the government, because the Constitution guarantees freedom of religious worship. Apparently constitutions don't hold quite the same weight here as they do at home.

What spurred me to write this post was an article I was sent on another disturbing trend here, the institutionalization of dissenters. Can you imagine putting sane people in mental hospitals, treating them as if they were mentally unsound, using treatments circa 1950s (i.e. electroshock therapy), just because they complained to the government about something as minor as a land dispute? Read on to see what I mean ("Assertive Chinese Held in Mental Wards", New York Times 11.11.2010).

Lowering Your Voice to Strengthen Your Argument

OR HOW I LOSE MY VOICE DAY IN AND DAY OUT -- AND I'M NOT SURE I LIKE THAT

I have heard it said that "lowering your voice strengthens your argument" (Lebanese proverb). So losing your voice must be even better, right? Well, I'm going to have to agree with Henry Wadsworth Longfellow when he said, "The human voice is the organ of the soul". I need my voice to project myself into the world. No voice, no soul.

Problem is, I seem to keep losing this precious tool. It happens in small ways. Like last night, when I spent over 2 hours talking to one of my best friends in America. It happens in large ways too. The English slang I use now is not the slang I came to China with, the enunciation I love in my voice is fraying at the edges, and to top it all off, my English spelling has become a daily blackboard embarrassment.

Whenever I enter a new language community, the presentation of my voice shifts very quickly, and very unconsciously. I can never hang on to words or gestures for too long -- whatever is most commonly used, I, without fail, begin to imitate. The worst part, or funniest, is that I don't seem to notice the shift until someone points it out or it gets me into trouble. After spending part of every high school summer in upstate New York, I always came back home to Maryland with slang nobody understood. After living with a British family for a few weeks, I tried, in broken English and rusty French, to ask a Brussels waiter for a table for one for dinner. I ended up at the bar, very hungry, with a piping hot cup of black tea. Most recently in China, I now end many of my informal sentences with the word "hotness", a Dan-ism.

Not only must I lose my slang, I seem to be losing my enunciation skills too. Singing and acting have made me very aware of how I can play with the pitch, intensity, volume, and speed of my voice. Now I have trouble maintaining general pitch arcs in my spoken English (i.e. at the end of a sentence, raising your voice for a question or lowering it for a complete thought). All my students speak in complete monotone. Plus, Chinese cares more about word pitch (i.e. tones) than sentence arc pitch. Both of these trends are rubbing off on me. Lastly, all the fellow American here, including me, speak "ESL-teacher English" which is slow, simple, and rhythmically jarring. Goodbye theatre voice.

Did you know that it is possible to lose your ability to spell? Pinyin, the spelling system which puts roman letters to Chinese sounds, has messed with all my use of vowels in English. Did you know that English and Chinese have cognates (words that sound similar or the same across languages, but may or may have the same meaning)? Take for example the sound "joe". Joe is a name, right? In Chinese, the "joe" sound is spelled zhou, and one of its meanings is wheat/grain porridge. Or let's take a more controversial sound, the "n-word". A sound no one should ever make, right? In Chinese, the "n-word" sound is spelled nei ge, and its meaning is that one (as opposed to this one).

When I came to China, I also lost something even more dear, my ability to speak the hegemonic language of the community. I know speaking it is a gift. Many people in the States struggle with our low tolerance of non-English speaking in schools and on the job. My privilege in one place is my oppression in another. But I'd take China any day. In America, people pick on others simply because of their non-native accents. In China, people go out of their way to help me speak. They don't make fun of my wrong tones or absurdly small vocabulary. They make sure to prompt me with words or gestures so that I can answer affirmatively or negatively, and not have to remember the difficult vocabulary myself. Would these small kindnesses happen in America? Would a MacDonald's or Starbucks worker let me take three times as long to order my food as everyone else? Would the other people in line? In America, would people treat me with respect and dignity if all I could do in English was count and say "this one" or "that one"?

Before China, I took pride in my academic writing and verbal stage presence. Today, if I can buy a few items at a store without help, I feel like a rock star. Every day that I feel positive -- it is simply amazing how much your mental attitude and current emotions make or break your ability to speak a second language -- I can say a little more, with a bit more confidence and clarity. But I know I will never bring myself up to speed in Chinese. This is the plight of the second language learner, especially those of us who start late in life -- Chinese (almost definitely) will never be my mother tongue, will never be the sounds I make to make meaning our of all of life's (potential) meaninglessness. Chinese is the sound I make to get by, and maybe one day to express myself, not to understand every and all micro- and macro- trends and details life has and will throw at me.

This "lowering" of my voice, I pray, will help me strength my "argument" -- though what this argument is I'm still in the dark about. I can't say I won't miss my strong, loud voice, but I hope that it meets me on the other side of this fellowship, unscathed and perhaps all the better for having a two-year vacation.

That's One Small Step for Man

ONE GIANT LEAP FOR RAY GERGEN

I did it. My errands. All alone. In the span of 15 minutes I bought 4 items from 3 different vendors -- who don't speak a lick of English. And I didn't just point either. I spoke some well-practiced verbs, recited pre-crafted sentences from a well-worn notebook page, and listened hard for you/mei you [have/don't have], numbers, and small talk. Tonight's interactions with the grocery man, the congee lady, and the fruit vendor proved to me that my Chinese is actually improving.

Scenario 1: Running Errands in the PAST

I point at something.

Seller: (some number) kwai.

They now hand the item over. But if they have to bag it, they wait until after they've got my cash.

I hand the money over -- usually in the form of a bill that is rather larger than the amount I think is asked for, just in case I am translating wrong.

I leave quickly, in case they start asking me questions.



Tonight's conversations all went like this second example, which actually happened this evening.


Scenario 2: Running Errands TONIGHT

Me: Wo yao zhe ge (points at light bulb in my hand). [I want this (points at light bulb in my hand).]

Me: Dengpao? [Light bulb?] I have no idea at this point if "dengpao" is "light bulb" or if I have just completely made up this word. The last time I tried to say "light bulb", I ended up saying "small knife".

Seller: Says unintelligible things in Chinese at me which I guess means "Do you want this same exact bulb?"

Me: Zhe ge. [This one.] I again point at the light bulb.

Seller: Says more unintelligible things in Chinese at me which I think mean "What wattage/voltage do you want?"

Me: I have no idea how to answer this question in Chinese. No vocabulary whatsoever.

Seller: ??? kan kan ???. [unknown words see see unknown words, which I translate to "Let me see it."] Upon seeing my confused face, he motions to me to give him the bulb, then he gives it to this student-customer next to me. She reads the voltage and wattage. I can tell this because they say something like "200" (v) and "40" (w).

Me: I start nodding emphatically.

Other Seller: 40 ??? ma? [40 unknown word?]

Me: I keep nodding emphatically.

Me: You mei you Taigu bing? [Do you have this type-of-bread-snack-thing-I-happen-to-eat-for-breakfast?]

Others: Confused looks all around.

Student-Customer: Taigu bing? [said in totally different tones than the ones I used.]

Seller: Grabs the bing off the shelf. 4 kwai.

Other Seller: Hands over the light bulb to the first seller.

Seller: 5 kwai.

Me: I pay with a 10, because I don't have the correct change. Zai jian! [Goodbye!]

Seller: Zai jian! [Goodbye!]



To think I can now understand or infer this much meaning in Chinese blows my mind. I finally feel a little more back in the game. In Germany, I bought lots of stuff all by myself. And the only German I knew was "please", "thank you", and the "numbers 1 through 5". Finally, 2 and 1/2 months in, I can finally ask for a light bulb that's hidden in a box somewhere in the back of the store.

Why did this take this long? Well, tonight I realized that speaking another language voluntarily is pretty much the scariest scenario I can do on a regular basis, legally. I think I jumped to task so quickly before because either I spoke German or didn't get to eat or find my train. With bucketfuls of American teachers and English students, I rarely am forced to take linguistic risks. Now I have to choose to take these risks, or else I will never improve. I must choose to stick my head into this Chinese storm alone, and trust that everything will be fine. Irregardless of public embarrassment or humongous misunderstanding.

And after every one of these trials by fire, I like China a bit more. Now that I order alone, I eat the food I want, when I want it -- which, for many reasons, is a rare gift in my China. I get to buy what I need when I have time, not when someone has time to take me. And out of the many small instances I have ordered alone, I've only gotten the wrong thing once. It's as if China herself were giving me a huge pat on the back. She says to me, after I order, "Ray you did butcher that grammar and those tones, but I see that you are trying. So against the odds, you will get that soup that you've been craving all week."

How do you like them apples?

Halloween, Taigu-Style (Pictures)

The day started out with some pumpkin carving at Robert & David's house.

I threw a carving party to show my students and their friends how to not cut themselves and create something beautiful...

Or scary!

Lynn's guinea pig came along, and everyone loved him.

The students carved splendidly!

Alien pumpkin?

Awesome!

This is my creation...a cyclops-vampire pumpkin!

We decorated my porch with the pumpkins.

...and more pumpkins.
(Left to right: Dan and Lynn)

We also decorated Dan & James's porch.

Nice.

It's a ghost! Or James Barnard.
His costume kicked off the dance party that night at Dan & James's house.

I'm a SUPERSTAR.
(Left to right: Me and Alma)

Dan's a basketball star, with tacky tattoos drawn by your's truely.
(Left to right: Dan and Crystal)

I HEART MOM.
(Left to right: Me, Alma, and Dan)

How dark.
(Left to right: Gerald and Daisy)

The two-headed woman.
(Left to right: Lynn and Me)

Here's David and Alexandra looking good.

We closed the evening and the dance party the usual way: a sing-a-long to the theme song of the TV show, "Family Matters".

Thank you to Alexandra Sterman and Daniel Tam-Claiborne for donating pictures to this post.