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Music is language to the ears
(China Daily)
Updated: 2004-07-01 08:25
Ask any expatriate about the highs and lows of living in
China, and there will always be a story starting: "I had this really amazing
experience...."
It happens to us all, and while some experiences are more amazing than
others, they are usually associated with communication, or more to the point -
miscommunication.
My story last week involved getting lost in Beijing as an early arrival from
Australia, struggling with the language. But what happens when the locals try to
trade words with an English-speaking foreigner?
For me, two experiences are indelibly printed in my mind.
They reveal the courage of two native Beijingers, one with a very limited
English vocabulary, the other with virtually none at all. But this second person
found a way to break the language barrier in a spectacular fashion. And later he
invited me to become part of his family.
"Building...come down"
Still struggling with only a few words of Chinese, I continue soaking up its
sounds on public transport. This mobile stage provides a daily dose of
contemporary "Peking Opera" starring the driver and conductor supported by a
huge cast of extras - the always changing passengers.
My bus and subway travel between the Friendship Hotel and China Radio
International (CRI) where I first worked in Beijing became much easier.
On the homeward stretch one afternoon, I boarded a packed bus at Muxidi, and
luckily found a seat at the rear.
The "opera" was about to begin. It would feature a young man seated next to
me, silent at first, but no doubt mentally working out his opening lines. The
curtain was about to rise. His time to "perform" had arrived.
Taking his "cue," the man looked at me and started talking in very slow
English. He wanted to know what I was doing in China, and why I travelled on the
bus instead of using a taxi. Taking my own cue, I explained my desire to absorb
the human Chinese sights and sounds.
"But," he responded, choosing his words carefully. "We... want... speak
English."
"Where do you work?" I asked.
I couldn't understand his reply, but then he repeated it, more slowly: "I
work... All China Federation...Trade Unions."
Just as I was about to enquire about his job there, he went on: "Our
building... come down... big explosion."
"I'm sorry," I replied, "that's very bad."
But he smiled and said: "Oh, it... not bad because we... going to have new
building."
Next morning I was to see a photo in China Daily showing the famous Beijing
landmark (built in the 1950s) being demolished to make way for a new 25-storey
building on the same site.
His courage to speak to me in English was impressive. Knowing how difficult
it must have been, I prompted him and he persevered throughout the 30-minute
ride.
But something even more remarkable followed after we got off the bus
together.
He extended his hand and said with new confidence: "I wish you good health
and a happy stay in China."
I was "bowled over" (as we say Down Under) by his "performance." But it
wasn't stage-managed. His "acting" came from the heart. A strong handshake
offered my genuine applause.
Another stunning performance awaited me. This time, the English vocabulary of
the "actor" would be almost nil.
The "play" had its "Scene One" in Beijing's Haidian District. After a long
walk looking for a famous museum at Dazhongsi, I approached a young man and his
girlfriend standing on the footpath.
"Do you know if the Great Bell Temple is near here?" I asked.
"You're right in front of it," they said, adding that they were also going
in, and inviting me to walk around with them.
Their English was fairly clear and we struck up a good rapport. They told me
about their studies as design students at Tsinghua University, and offered to
meet me again to visit some other sights around Beijing.
Duck and song
Two weeks later brought a request which doesn't often come the way of a
foreigner. I was invited to dinner to meet the family of the young man (whose
English name is Rain) at their apartment in Xuanwu District, southwest of
Tian'anmen Square.
I was excited but anxious at the prospect of entering the inner sanctum of a
Beijing family. After climbing several flights of stairs, I was welcomed by
Rain's parents who smiled and shook my hand warmly, saying: "Hello Ed-i-win."
Dinner started with a vast array of fruit and nuts. Then Rain was asked to
enquire if I had ever experienced a Peking Duck banquet. When I replied "no,"
they had a quick conference and arrangements seemed to change, as we started
heading for the door.
They had decided to take me to a Peking Duck restaurant just a few streets
away. It was an easy walk, and while we waited for a private room to become
vacant, my eyes immediately fell on the aquarium filled with fish having their
last swim. It was all new to me.
The short wait over, Rain, his parents, aunt, uncle and cousins, led me up
the stairs to a private banquet room. I had heard about these famous banquets
from members of my family who had been to China. Now it was my turn, not as a
tourist, but in the company of a Beijing family.
They were all terribly excited to be my hosts in this famous Chinese
gastronomic environment. Cameras popped, along with the caps of lemonade and
beer.
I looked in amazement as dishes of food of all colours and shapes arrived to
please our every taste. They included what I had assumed was the famous Beijing
duck, and after we had eaten, I asked Rain to tell everyone, how "fantastic" the
meal had been and thanked them profusely. I really believed it was the end.
Then Rain's dad tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the doorway. My
mouth opened more in disbelief than hunger as a table bearing an oven-baked duck
was wheeled in by the chef.
My stomach must have stretched a mile as I wrapped slices of succulent skin
and duck topped with scallion and a dollop of plum sauce in paper-thin pancakes
and popped them into my mouth.
I was seated in the middle as guest of honour, and all eyes were on me as I
ate until I could eat no more. What a meal! But the night was far from over.
When we got back to the apartment, there was more food to eat and tea to wash
it down.
Although Rain did a creditable job of translating, it was a bit frustrating
that the parents and I couldn't speak to each other directly. After dinner, and
without any indication, the language barrier was about to come down.
Carrying a kitchen chair, Rain's father who is in his mid 40s walked across
the room, sat directly in front of me, and started humming a tune. I recognized
it immediately, the melody of a well known Australian folk song, "Click Go The
Shears."
As I struggled to join him, trying to remember the words, he sang them in
Chinese, his voice rich in resonance and in perfect pitch.
I think this was the only Australian folk song he knew. However, when I sang
the Aussie folk song that the whole world knows, "Waltzing Matilda," he was very
quick to pick up the tune.
Then he introduced other well known songs, some of which I also knew. By now
we were producing a bi-lingual harmony of voices previously unable to
communicate.
If our words sounded different, at least the melodies were the same. Soon the
chorus became louder as Rain's mother joined in, then his aunt and young
cousins, their hands clapping, their feet tapping in time.
I expected neighbours to knock on the door, asking us to keep the noise down.
They would have seen the breakdown of a communication barrier using the one
language everyone shares - music.
I have gone back to their home many times since that evening, and we are now
more than just casual friends. When my younger son and daughter visited China
for the first time last year, they were also invited, and everyone "got on like
a house on fire." It has been made clear that we are now part of their family,
and I have welcomed them into mine.
At first, the gap was wide. Now, several months later, not only music, but
spoken words of English and Chinese, flow under a bridge of love and
understanding. Like that of the man on the bus, our continuing "performance" is
real.
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