Christy
Shanghai, China
Spring 1994
We are walking on the Bund, along the river in Shanghai when a young woman approaches us.
"Hello, you speak English. I study English. OK .I walk with you. OK."
Sally, Jim, Suellen, Jessie and I are traveling together on a ship, going around the world. We travel well with each other and often without any real plans for the day. Mostly we wander and often have the good fortune to run into events and unique moments. Today is no exception. Christie shows us places we would not have found in the guidebooks. As we walked she told us her story.
She is a high school senior, living with her mother and brother in an apartment building with hundreds of other people. Her father died years ago so her family is poor. She hopes to go to college one day but it won't be soon. She doesn't have enough money to pay tuition and buy a bike so that she can get to school. Both of these things cost about the same, about $40.
We are all stymied by this fact. And she doesn't tell us to gain our sympathy but rather so that we do not think she is an academic slough. She tells us this as we are making our way through the Number One Friendship Shop, a store that caters to tourists. No one says anything at first because we are all filled with shame. We have just dropped hundreds of dollars here to buy tons of junk that we don't need and this sweet young woman doesn't have a few bucks to get her to school.
We buy her a bike, a really good bike. In hindsight, we were too American in our shopping. We buy her the most expensive bike, a 10 speed bike with lots of extras. She can't believe her good fortune and she cries and cries and cries.
"This is the happiest day of my life", she sobs, with joy, as we place her and her bike in a cab and send her home. She doesn't ride the bike home because the bike is too sophisticated for her skill level. She is going to practice in her neighborhood before she hits the busy roads.
The next day, we disembark from the ship and she is standing there with her brother. They came baring gifts from her mother. We are embarrassed as we know this family does not have much. The gifts are all used but each gift was hand selected, based on our conversations we had with Christie yesterday. There are abacuses and paintings. I am giving the grandfather's Chairman Moa jacket that he wore during the Cultural Revolution. We are embarrassed by her generosity but we accept the gifts. Then she announces that her mother wants to serve us dinner tonight. Unfortunatley for the others, they all had theatre tickets for the evening. But I didn't so I jumped on this chance to eat in a family's home.
Christie and her brother pick me up in the evening and we make our way to her home on the fourth floor of a bland cement building that looks like a run-down factory. We climb up the dark steps that have no lights and make our way down a long hallway. In the middle of the hallway is a singular, dull light bulb dangling from the ceiling. Under the light for all to see is "the bike", displayed like an exhibit of the queen's jewels.
Christie's apartment is a cramped room that serves as a dining/living room and the brother's bedroom. Christie and her mother share a bed in the next small room, almost a closet. The kitchen is a communal area down the hallway. And I find out later that the toilet is also down the hallway, unisex and without any partitions. I went once and that was it for the evening. That was it.
An uncle and cousin have been invited to join us for dinner. They traveled three hours by train to get here and they were invited to come because the cousin is learning English. Her skills are nowhere near what Christie can speak so she is too intimidated to speak to me.
Our table is filled with an abundance of food, too much food for any family to consume at one time and certainly, too much of an expense for this poor family. To add to the overabundance, neighbors are so curious about me that they wander over with something to offer in hopes that they can grab a look at the foreigner.
We start the meal with a big fish which lays nakedly on a large plate. The head and tail are still in tact and the grandfather leans over, pulls out the eyeball and offers it to me. I AM REPULSED!!! And now I am in a panic because all eyes are on me as I am offered the prized part of the meal. But I can't. I just can't eat that eyeball. I will throw up. As a matter of fact, I begin to feel a slight urge to vomit. So I tell Christie that I can not eat the eyeball because of religious reasons.
"What.", she doesn't understand.
"Oh, I am so sorry but my religion does not allow me to eat it. It's against my religion," I tell her unabashed, in a panic and desperate to put this kind gesture to rest so we can move on to other foods I may reject tonight.
"What is your religion" she asks?
"Ah, Catholic. I'm a catholic and we can't eat eyeballs." I tell her with a conviction that I now actually believe.
"We are catholic and we can eat eyeballs." she retorts with some confusion.
"Yes, I know, but my sect doesn't allow it. I can't eat it."
Christie does the translations and everyone laughs in disbelief. So the grandfather eats the one eyeball and the uncle flips over the fish and eats the other eyeball. Now we can all eat. So the mother gestures for me to start and I do not know what to do as I don't see any plates. I take a small bowl and help myself, awkwardly, to some of the food. I have not mastered the art of chopsticks so picking up food and putting it in this small bowl is a challenge but I finally manage and the others pick up a bowl now and follow suit. A few minutes later, the brother comes to the table and sits himself beside his mother. He sees her using this small bowl and he laughs at her. He gets an elbow to the ribs and it dawns on him that tonight, we are all going to eat from the sauce bowls just like the American.
Throughout the meal, neighbors bring in more and more food and it appears as if this stream of food will never ever end. But finally, it does and now it is time for some entertainment. The little girls on the floor have prepared a singing show. They are all dressed up and a crowd stands around me, the doorway and down the hallway.
When the show finishes, the women get up and put on makeup and comb their hair and change their clothing. It is time for photos with the American. For the next 20 minutes, I am photographed in every combination of guests and neighbors. I am at a celebrity status that I have never experienced before in my life. These people just couldn't get enough photos of me. That finally ends and I am now free to go back to my ship. The uncle and the cousin have a train to catch and these people have to get to bed so that they can work extra, extra hard tomorrow to pay for this feast tonight.
