I sat up leaning over the small table while the cantankerous old teacher leaned forward to whisper a secret. “I don’t like those Uigher people.” The grumpy old Chinese didn’t surprise me with her opinion. Nevertheless with a glance at the open first floor balcony window and a quiet voice, I responded “why?” “They’re dirty!” wrinkling her nose. “They are lazy - just sitting around with each other all the time. They don’t study and aren’t very smart.” I happened to know that the brightest student and best English speaker in Jonathan’s class was a Uigher man who took two years to find a teaching job while his Chinese classmates only after a week of searching found some great English jobs. I simply listened and asked questions. “Why do you think they are dirty?” Shaking her head with contorted features she frankly replied “They let their kids play in the dirt outside.” Her raspy growl and expression spoke more than what her words declared. I left with a feeling of needing a bath. I wonder if she thought the same of us Americans and our children who not only played in the dirt but actually had a marvelous time once while making mud pies. We we dirty?
That afternoon as the Uighers celebrated the Korban holiday I dropped by an old Uigher friends apartment to eat the traditional pollo (lamb mixed in rice and carrots). While we enjoyed the merry mealtime the conversation turned unusually private. Gulzeera disclosed her thoughts to us. “I don’t like the Chinese.” To draw out more of the meaning I asked the question “Why?” She confidently with a half crooked smile explained, “They’re dirty!”
What did she say? How could this be? I began to feel that the earlier morning’s confabulation was merely a rehearsal for the latter. What could she possibly mean? “How are they dirty?” I repeated my line from the earlier drill. As an inferior in the Chinese society she seemed self confident of her superior islamic culture. “They grow their nails so long. And they never have time to talk. They are all so busy and never have time for relationship.” Hmmmm. Now this was different. I had not previously thought about how disgusting long nails would be on women who knead bread and noodles everyday.
This day was an exercise in learning about the conflicting values people and cultures have not only around the world but even within one country, one state, one neighborhood. Where one values tasks and learning another finds meaning in relationships. Who is right?
This doesn’t happen in church does it?
25 May 2008
Who's Dirty Anyway?
Posted by Jane Jane at 22:21
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4 comments:
Wow -loved the story.
What was the book on the brain you were referring to? Sounds interesting. Love you sister
that you were referring to in the comment on my blog 8)
Janie, would you mind if i had your email address? If so email me at stylib38@comcast.net. I promise I won't forward junk to you 8) Wanted to dialogue some with you about the Shack if you have time. of course no pressure
HI there, Jane. I heard you have some new neighbors who are my relatives. Actually, I know you do, because I got to help them move in last Friday.
They let their kids play in the dirt, by the way.
Just so you know. :-)
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