Hating the Homeless

I hate the homeless, I really do.
Now, I don't hate them as people. I don't hate (though I certainly dont condone) how they live, I dont even hate how they make the city look. 

Its just that I dont know what to do with them  and it leaves me deeply unsettled.

Do I turn a blind eye? Do I pause to read their signs1? Which is worse - keep walking like they're not there? or stop, gawk and keep walking like I don't understand English? Do I chuck them some spare change (Does that really change the(ir) world?)? Do I buy them Mackers, sign up at a soup kitchen or lobby for social justice?

Its easier to turn a blind eye.
Harder to turn off thoughts.  

Yesterday I was in a park bench doing my devotions (like any good Christian should) when a lady approached. I assumed she wanted to share my lovely long bench so I graciously moved over but instead she wanted some change to buy some food (she even gave me the option of buying her some food). I poliltely declined however did rummage through my bag of recently acquired asian groceries and told her all I had was dried vermicelli and preserved vegetables. She politely declined (as any good beggar might2 ) and left. I watched her walk away and began to hate.  I hated her for putting me in such a predicatment (nevermind hers); for making me feel bad (nevermind how she feels). I mean, I was reading my Bible for goodness'3 sake. Would have been (or at least seemed) so much better if I'd been playing on my phone like everyone else around me.

As I pen this down 24hrs later (hey, if you cant get rid of a thought, you may as well analyse it) I wonder WWJD 4? Taken her by the hand and told her he loved her? Bought her a burger? Given her an endless supply of oil5? Not offered preserved vegetables, in any case.

It just seems

 Shes the one thats homeless and
          I have all the resources in the world
                 yet somehow
                      I feel just as helpless
                            as her

Do I really hate the homeless?
Or do I hate the hypocrite in me?

 

1Have you noticed they invariably end with 'God bless'? A clever (though unoriginal) guilt trip? How many Christian beggars actually are out there?
2 Oi! Beggars cant be choosers right?
3 yes, debateable
4The ever popular slogan from my Sunday School days What Would Jesus Do?  
5. Ref 2 Kings  7

Stars

Camping at Wilson's Prom, 1am.

Didn't think I'd be stargazing atop Dave's car at this hour, but its so mild outside and I can't sleep. Haven't seen stars like this for... too long. Does it make me feel closer to God? Yup.

No wonder the ancients had less problems believing in Him - or at least being in touch with a 'spiritual side'. No light pollution from cities, no Twitter/Tinder/newsfeeds for 24/7 distraction. Back when they shepherded sheep under stars, sailed ships with stars, planted seed by stars. Don't get me wrong - I don't really wish that things were how they were 100, perhaps 1000 years ago (wouldnt survive without my feather sleeping bag, hot water bottle and thermal layers). I just wonder if nowadays, in our narcissistic existences, we paused a bit more and stared at the stars we might just realise how very very small we are...

'The heavens declare the glory of God,
the skies proclaim the works of his hands...
what is mankind that you are mindful of them,
human beings that you care for them?"
                                                                     Psalms 19v1, 8v4

First World Problems

7 May 2016

Woke up this morning and my phone had died. Used the laptop to Google map my way to my out-of-town destination, took pictures of it with my camera and then wrote down the directions by hand (by hand!) just in case. When all that failed not even 10 mins from home, I resorted to rummaging through the boot and opening the great big 'Greater Melbourne Maps' directory my blessed aunt had given me.

This, of course, all made me a little unsettled, very late, and with the thought of the 20km I had to run in the afternoon (not a regular occurence - am training for a half marathon) I nursed a sore stomach (a regular occurence, unfortunately). Geez, 1st world problems, I told myself.

Now I've spent enough time in 3rd world countries to know better; I shouldn't be moping about these things. But still, I live in the 1st world, and 1st world problems are - for the most part - still problems. I also know that the cure for 1st world problems is not to move to the 3rd world and be free of such pressures, anymore than the cure for 3rd world problems is to escape to the 1st.

No, the cure for all world problems must be something - someOne - outside of this world, the Maker of it even. Before Him alone do all problems fade. In Him alone do I find my joy and peace.

An understanding

You know, I really understand now why so many vets - even experienced ones - commit suicide. Its not neccesarily the pressure from without that makes them - us - crumble. But the pressure from within - these self-set standards which may or may not be attainable, this feeling - conviction - of inadequacy, the constant comparing of oneself with the vet-next-door. And its all relentless.

Now hold up, don't call 111 - I didnt say I was suicidal or anything. I just said I get it, why some people would be. Just like how a newlywed, after a while, might understand why couples go through divorce. Or one starving might see how easy it is to steal. Its a powerful understanding.

I hope like anything this feeling doesnt hang around til my retirement party. I do want to be a vet thats 'good enough', if not 'good' full stop. But I fear with my - and all of our - damned perfectionist personality/ies it just might. So whilst others choose otherwise,  I put on my scrubs and live with it. 

Last bits and pieces of China

excperts from my report home, Feb 2016

A little bit cold 

So with the completion of my (not very difficult - we're international students come on!) exams, Wei-Yan and I set off on a little adventure. We went north - so north we almost bordered Russia - to a city called Harbin. We went to see the International Ice and Snow Sculpture Festival - well, that is what we tell everyone. The real (or at least other half of the) reason was to see what temperatures of -20 to -30 deg are like.

 I can personally verify that is it is cold. 

Everything, well, freezes. Our hair froze, our breath-saturated masks froze, the water in my bottle in my backpack froze, our eye lashes froze. Our internal organs, however, fared suprisingly well, thanks to the (yes, maybe over 100) nuan bao bao's we had bulk bought online. The nuan bao bao  is an incredible asian invention - large teabag-like packets filled with charcoal like powder which spontaneously emits heat on exposure to air. They come in various forms - to stick to your torso, your toes, to put in your pockets or gloves. We even stuck them to our phones as we found electronic devices don't hold charge in those temperatures (how do people survive??). The only inconvenience was that the nuan bao bao  needs to be changed every couple of hours, much like a baby needs its diaper changed. 

A little bit dissapointed

This year, Yan and I joined the 'mass internal migration' during Chinese New Year,  bussing to our relative's hometown. Because of the crowds (and, perhaps, our 60+ kg of luggage we were lugging (Yan was flying home straight after)) we couldn't physically get to our bus in time to board. When we got to the gate and  realised the bus had left without us, we couldn't back out, for the crowds pushing up against us, and so stayed squashed against the counter for an hour until we got seats on another bus. 

Now this didnt really suprise me but something else did:

Since young, Chinese New Year has always been a time where we've tried to be really chinese.  It usually consisted of us raiding the wardrobes to find chinese clothing (I always got the cheong sam Mum had tailored for her fathers birthday, Wei-Yan would find (and still fit into) some chinese kids pyjamas and poor Wei-Lin always seemed to end up draped in a chinese table cloth), donning red lipstick and white foundation and strutting round the house with sunbrellas collecting money-filled red packets from our bemused parents (and other unsuspecting guests). 

So, come the very important New Year's Eve family reunion dinner,  to my dissappointment, nobody dressed up. My aunty came straight in from the kitchen and sat down, still in her apron. My cousin wore track pants, my uncle looked like he was in those acceptable-to-wear-outside PJs and even Yan and I (at the call to dinner at 4.12pm!!) found ourselves still in our jeans, 5 layers of thermas/Merinos and puffer jacket we had been wearing every day during our travels (it was so cold inside the house I'd have worn my beanie, gloves and mask too if I could eat in them). And we only scored one red packet each.

What didnt dissapoint, however was the food: we lost count of the dishes at number 23 (no wonder my aunty didnt have time to do her hair!) which included delicacies such as goose, embryonated chicken eggs and dog (yes, its true, Chinese do eat dog....)

Sometimes reality is far from our preconceptions.    

A whole lot of satisfaction

But then again, is that not what we discover every day in our travels?  My year in China was - of course - fun... but not so much fun as it was interesting -  deeply interesting not so much for the things I did or saw or ate, but for the experience of living as a banana in the Motherland. At times I was an undercover Westerner with glee, at others I just wanted to go home where people would understand and accept me (!!). Although I will never be (nor ever marry*) a zhong guo ren (Lit: 'chinaman'), I feel I have a very much deepr understanding of this incredible country and the strange (and seemingly socially inappropriate at times) habits of her resilient people. And, I can speak chinese, which is 100% non-useful for my career as a vet. Still I would deem it all one of the most worthwhile things I have ever done 

 

A little bit frozen

*I couldnt hack a chinese mother-in-law

当老师

For a semester in Hangzhou, every Wednesday afternoon I donned a skirt and stockings(wow, China has really changed me, you say) and (illegally - part time work is prohibited for students) took the title of Lao shi (teacher) at a (not very local) high school. It went like this: first a 40 min bike ride to the train station, 45 minutes on the gao tie (high speed train), followed by a 20 minute (hair-raising) taxi ride to Yuyao middle school. I would teach two 40 minute classes, inconveniently separated by a 70 minute dinner break. And then this 2+ hour commute would be played out in reverse. My pay was 180RMB (~50NZD) per class, and (net) transport pay 170RMB. To my Chinese friends this is more than they could dream of (my poor friend in Xi’an had a weekend job trying to sell (of all things!) Zespri Kiwifruit at a fruit stall, each day she would earn 100RMB...) , but for foreign teachers, especially for one teaching TOEFL english under the above circumstances, I think its considered a 

bit of a bad deal. But you know, I its not like I came to China to earn money or anything, I came to learn, that I did. What these three brave boys taught me far outweighed anything I tried to teach them. 

Chinese uni students will tell you that that uni years are so ‘relaxing’. Come to NZ (where one goes to school to eat his lunch), and you’ll know the definition of ‘relaxing', I think,  as I watch them rush between class and the library, scoff their food at the canteen, be back in their 4 person dorms by 11pm and study till after midnight. Its only after my glimpse into the life of a high school student that I begin to understand. 

At the Yuyao High, 99% of the (about 1000) students are boarders, not because their parents live out of town, but because they can study ‘better’ by living in. Breakfast is at 6am and ‘free time’ until 7.30am. What do you do in your ‘free time’? I asked Kevin, my star student. ‘I usually study’, he said, ‘that way if I get everything done before the weekend I can relax when I go home’. ‘Weekend’ is a bit of a misnomer really, they go home around 8pm on Saturday evening and are back before Sunday noon - less than 24 hours at home a week (and their home may just be around the corner!). What do you do when you go home? I asked. ‘Sleep, and play computer games’ was the reply. (of course! What else would you do?!) One of my chinese friends said in her final year study pressure was too high for her to go home so her parents came to visit her instead. Other than this their days are filled with classes - either teaching classes or ‘supervised self study’ classes. I thought about just turning my classes into parties to give them a bit of a break, but alas even I wasn’t exempt from pressure; ‘your students must achieve’ I was firmly told in my interview... 

So instead of parties, I showed them pics of my travels and tried to set interesting essay topics. One was 'Is it better for parents to spend time with their child or buy them things?' For me, the 'right' answer was obvious, but to my dismay, two out of three supported the latter. OK, it wasn't really a statistically sound survey. But was it a reflection of Chinese students' experience?

Make no mistakes, I'm not a cheerleader for NZ's education. And I'm not completely naiive to the rat race of Chinese society. But no matter how many maths whizzes a system like this may produce, if students lose sight of what's 'right', I'm just think somethings wrong.  . 

The left behinds

The Generation Gap, Wuyuan Villages, Jianxi, China.

'The Generation Gap'. That is, the noticeably missing generation between the elderly and children in the Chinese countryside. The elderly and the children are also known as the 'left behinds', and the numbers are staggering.

Being in the city, its also noticeable. Take my flatmates for example. Their daughter is 3 years old, she lives with her grandparents in his hometown. He's a 'kuai di' (courier) driver, works 7 days a week and is lucky if he can take one days leave a month to rest, or make the 8hr return train ride to see her. Or take my second cousin for example. She and her husband are designers, running their business in Hangzhou, her 5 year old son is/has been raised by her parents in her hometown, Zhuji. Zhuji is just 80km from Hangzhou, but last time I spoke with her she said she's been so busy, she hasn't been home (and he hasn't come to visit) for more than 2months. In fact, with all my running to and from Hangzhou and Zhuji for chinese festivals and visiting aunts I think I've seen more of him than she has. The left behinds.

With the Kiwi Mission team in Xi'an I had the privilege of being 'sent' to a countryside school to teach two days of english. The photo describes what it was physically like (yes those are the toilets...yes it snowed that heavy in November!)  but conversations with kids can never be captured by a camera. Forsaking my served lunch in the 'staff room', I joined the kids in the canteen as they scoffed their noodles.

 'Ayi', they addressed me (lit 'aunty'!!) 'are you going to be our teacher from now on?' (oh breaks my heart!) 'No, just until tomorrow. I need to go back to my country' 

'Where do you live?' (groan, did we not just spend the whole morning talking about NZ?)

 'Very far away. I need to take an aeroplane to get there'.

 'Ayi, does your country have aeroplanes!!?? they marvelled.

 'Yes, and you know, China does too!' 

 'Waaaaa! they screamed - it was like the most brilliant piece of information they'd gained in a long time. 'Ayi,' their eyes couldn't contain their delight like I couldn't contain my laughter, 'how many aeroplanes does China have??'

 The majority of these kids live with their grandparents - their parents are in the city mostly 打工 - doing seasonal/temporary work on construction sites, in restaurants, etc. I asked them how often their parents come home - not very often, maybe once or twice a year. And when they finish primary school, I guess they go off to live at high school and then university.... I'm not sure if its just my privileged family upbringing or narrow minded western mindset, but I look at this picture and think 'why bother having a kid??'

Countryside school, Shaanxi, China.