It's A Wonderful Life
This was a sunny winter afternoon. A seventeen-year-old girl pressed down several buttons on a telephone with a trembling finger. No, no, no way, I can't breathe now. On her third attempt, however, the line was connected and there came
a soft voice in English. "Hello?"
"H—hallo, this is J-J-Jenny." She felt like there was a huge stone blocking her air passage ways. At the same time she felt a rush of wonder that the man on
the other side of the line actually responded to her very first words, "Oh, hello, Jenny. How are you?" A very exciting short conversation began. A minute later, she hung off the phone and jumped around in the house like a wild pony, yelling and shouting at no one but the walls, the sofa, and the computer. "I did it!
" She cried in English for so many times she couldn't remember. For 16 years, she had been trapped in a reality that she feared that no one around her save her
parents would understand her speech, and thus never tried to embarrass herself
with that. But a year later somehow she decided to give it a try, and the subject she chose to be her talking partner came all its way to China from across the
Pacific Ocean.
If you are one of my dear friends who have been loyal to this forum, you'll know
that I am talking about the 17-year-old me and David, founder of Canuck's Comments, and that was six years ago.
That winter, that call, that brief conversation changed me forever, opening up my life to a world I had not even dreamed of. Since then, David and his best friend---now his lovely wife---Jane have tried to visit my family every summer. Long gone are the days a simple Good Morning to/from David would excite me for hours, but a pleasant feeling of warmth arises inside me in every one of the visits
I am so lucky, as Panpanpan so wisely pointed out, to have with him and Jane.
This year we were able to have the couple here for three days in a perfect August weather. Day One David, for the first time to me, looked like a face-to-face
teacher, helping solve some problem I'd always had in English. Day Two they alone went to downtown Urumqi for David's life companion, COFFEE BEANS, and for some books for Jane's English classes. It is Day Three I will elaborate on a little bit because history almost repeated itself on that day.
Gentle wind greeted us happily in the Saturday morning as we began our hiking to
Wang Family Valley, a farming area close to where my family lives. We were the
most peculiar team our neighbors had ever seen: in the forefront Dad was walking aside with a bicycle loaded with food and water; the middle, a white-bearded
foreigner treading with a red jacket around his waist; bringing up the rear were
a middle-aged woman and two young ladies, talking and laughing mostly in Chinese.
On and on we walked, and after what seemed like a minute, we came to a big Chinese wolfberry field, where we picked a few of these red miniature cherries and enjoyed their fresh and special taste---all for free! Being raised in a farm, Jane had a brief and enthusiastic talk with the workers there and helped root out some of the weeds along the way.
When we nearly reached the Valley, it was already late in the noon, and we had had a small picnic under a tree with a vineyard down below the slope on which we
were sitting. Past a magnificent sunflower field, we came to a halt between a tomato field and another smaller sunflower field, where sat four children in school uniform under the trees with two adults eating boiled sweet corns. Probably
for the reason that we did a poor job hiding our interest in rural life, they invited us to stay and have some of their corns. We gladly agreed. The peculiar sight, however, gave those school kids a rare opportunity to show curiosity particularly in David. Obviously, it was their first time to be so near to a foreigner that they chanced many quick, shy, and fearful glances at the man in front
of them. Red spots appeared on their suntan cheeks as they did so.
"Hello!" David greeted them in English. Silence.
"Do you study English at school?" Jane asked them in Chinese in a most encouraging way. Silence.
"Which grade are you in, boys and girls?" Jane addressed to them again, making her voice louder this time. Still silence. It was the younger of the adult women who replied, "They are in fourth grade."
By the time the corns were ready, Jane managed to get a couple of timid replies
from the kids, who slowly moved further away whenever David drew nearer.
The same corns as those we buy at the market literally tasted more delicious than any corn I'd had in my life. As a way to thank the villagers for their hospitality, the food and snacks we distributed to the kids were enjoyed with the equal delight. Soon a time came when it was suggested before we left for home to have a picture taken of David and the kids as an imprint of this special encounter
for the kids. For once in our stay, these little friends walked toward the source of their curiosity and fear, though their every muscle worked in reluctance.
A CLICK marked our return journey and their on-going lives, in which they would probably have a new dream, a dream beyond the uneven ground and farm land, beyond their textbooks, beyond anything they had imagined before.
Later in the evening, after a blissful rest from six hours of walking in the day
and a simple Zhua Fan, Jane, David, and I watched a famous movie David recommended and copied for me, It's A Wonderful Life. When the movie came to the end, I
found myself marveling at how the story unfolded itself more than at the fact that I watched it with a native English speaker, who was undoubtedly helpful as there was no subtitle available. Lying on the bed that night, I saw a connection
between my seventeen-year-old self and those kids in the tomato field and wondered how easily a difference may be made in this world if we just live and share
our time at those moments which later may turn out to be life-changing for our friends in a most unexpected way.
Jenny
P.S.: David, I kept my promise and I hope you will keep yours. And I'd appreciate if you picked out any errors in my article. ;-)
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