Generosity Abounds

I’ve discussed the duplicity of the Chinese in earlier posts, but it would be unfair to ignore the generosity of this culture, too. In most cases I have witnessed this with my students.
The students often add a bit of grace to my days here in semi-rural China.
They often bring me snacks or treats and sometimes have even been known to buy me a Coke from the campus convenience store. It’s not uncommon for students to ask me to lunch and then to pay for it before I even get my wallet out!
“Oh you use chopsticks so well,” one student says during one of these lunches.
“Really?” I think of my supervisor’s wife who can use chopsticks rather than her own hands to make spring rolls. “Well, whenever we eat Chinese food in America, we use chopsticks. So maybe I’ve had some practice.”
“Oh, I see. Some Chinese people can’t use chopsticks well as you,” she says, still watching me.
The other day I misstepped on the bus and have been hobbling around since. I couldn’t take one clumsy hobble into class without my students’ excitedly and concernedly asking “What’s wrong?” “What happened?” Two of my male students went to their dorm room between classes to fetch a bottle of Chinese medicine. Its smell is similar to Tiger Balm (a natural form of BenGay) because it contains camphor and menthol-like herbs and other ingredients. They instructed me to pour some of the thick red liquid on my palm and rub it briskly onto my swollen ankle.
“Do this in three hours. Not more than three times a day,” says Tony, who looks like a rock star meets Chinese Elvis Costello with his spiked hair and glasses. Wouldn’t you know? The fluid, which literally contains Chinese spices such as those I like to fuel my homemade spring rolls, really works. I felt relief the first time I used it. After hobbling around for three more days, I finally put some of it in a bucket of hot water to soak my foot, again to more relief.
Over Qing Ming (sounds like tsing ming) Day, a three-day holiday that includes a tomb sweeping day, I invited a foursome of girls, who are not in my classes though they sit in on them every Thursday, to my apartment. They were so honored that they brought dumplings, dragon fruit (because they know it’s my favorite) and beer. We played mah jong, watched a film and enjoyed dinner and conversation until they had to return to their dorm before lights out. (More about the ringleader of this foursome in a later post.)
When I’m having trouble figuring out how to use some of my newly learned Chinese or can’t recall a word, they’re eager to help, always cheering me on, often clapping with large smiles.
“I teach you English,” I say, sometimes blushing with their exuberance of my childish efforts. “And you teach me Chinese. See, we’re both learning.”
I still have a lot to learn about this culture, I hope to reciprocate their assistance and generosity.