Packages of Hope - China 2005

After lunch, Joe Huo and I drove toward the outskirts of Lanzhou and headed up a hillside.

“So what kind of school is this?” I asked, as we passed by a guard gate entrance to a familiar complex of large buildings.

“This is the Lanzhou Minority University. This is set up in particular for the various minorities of China, particularly those nearby to our northwestern city.” There were students here from the Hui Muslim minority, from Inner and Outer Mongolia, and Tibet.

Joe told me that I was invited to speak to a class of students who were studying English. It turned out that for most of these students I was the first American they had ever met, and the first native English speaker.

“Good!” I said, “because not only is English my native tongue, but other than “where is the bathroom” and a few other phrases, it’s my ONLY tongue!”

We took a quick walk around campus, as we had arrived a few minutes early. Joe and I discussed the differences between universities in America and China, and found that most of them were minor apart from dating. Joe said parental and college guidelines held that one could not have a boyfriend or girlfriend until age 23. However, he admitted, these guidelines were constantly changed by the younger generation. This was made all too clear by the rambunctious students all around us, many of whom were couples engaged in one of my favorite college pastimes, flirting.

The teacher for our particular class came rushing up to us from the gate, apologizing for being a few minutes late. Joe and I greeted her in a similar fashion, as she was very easy on the eyes. She was closer to our age than the students’, and was dressed in a stunning Chinese jacket adorned with silk embroidery of autumn rust hues.

She led us up several floors of stairs, taking them with ease, leaving Joe and I a bit winded.

The classroom could hold perhaps 40 students, but there were not that many there at the time.

I was introduced, and warned to speak slowly as the students were not proficient. I didn’t mind. I was just happy to speak to young people. I so much enjoy passionate people, and college students, their hearts filled to the brim with optimism and a fiery passion for life, give me such hope for the future.

As expected, the conversation started out very one-sided. However, I could see that most of the students held their lips pursed tight, and their hands tightly folded on their desk with their necks craned upwards. They were anxious to speak.

So I broke out a bag of candy I had brought with me from the States, and told them to take some. That seemed to break the ice.

One by one, the students started to ask questions. They started out simple and textbook: “what do you think of Lanzhou?” and “why are you here?” and “we welcome you to Lanzhou”. As I responded, the crowd grew a little more relaxed, and the questions began to vary.

We talked about soccer, and the differences between the American definitions of “soccer” and “football”. We talked about English, and the proper way to learn it and speak it. One student asked if there should be an emphasis on English grammar, or on verbal English? It was an excellent question.

But still, I was a bit disappointed.

Finally, a student from Tibet broke into territory that made me smile. He asked, “So… what do you think about President Bush?”

Politics and college students! Hurray!

With that subject breached, we launched into an array of hot topics, such as religion and government involvement in everyday life. Even Joe Huo, my Communist Party friend, had to smile at the familiar debates and concerns of these passionate college students. Joe and I later agreed that our time for such activism was over, and we were both happy to see the young generation anxious to change the world.

I had such a wonderful time, and Joe and the teacher were gracious enough to let the discussion go on well past our deadline. In fact, Joe was kind enough to make a call to postpone our dinner plans.

The only unfortunate result of this was the loss of my voice. The change in atmosphere and the excited talk with these vibrant students had taken a toll upon my vocal chords. FortunatelyI was still able to use my voice until bedtime that night.

The students were very appreciative of my visit, and welcomed me to return to Lanzhou in the near future. We took lots of pictures together, and I thanked the teacher for the opportunity to speak.

Joe and I had a very nice final dinner together that evening, and I told him how thankful I was to have found such a wonderful friend. He and I compared notes, and I told him that I would be in touch with him soon via email. I had to leave early the next morning for the airport, and unfortunately he would not be able to accompany me.

With a big handshake and hug, I was again happy to say “so long”, but not “good bye”.

The next morning I met with Joe’s colleague, who was my guide on the previous day to see the waterwheels of Lanzhou. She was very distressed to hear me speak, as all I could manage was a series of barely audible croaking. Try as I might to assure her that it was just damaged vocal chords, she recommended medicines, throat soothers, warm clothing, and even a hospital visit. She was very apologetic, but I told her that she had nothing to apologize for, that I had been pushing myself a bit too hard over the last few days. When Joe called me on the cellphone, he also barraged me with concerns and recommendations for my croaking voice. I managed a “thanks again Joe!” as I left Lanzhou, bound for Changchun, and my next and final mission for the children of China.

For now.