Thursday, January 15, 2009

When you share a home with twenty-five other people, it is inevitable that there will be challenges. It’s never easy to find hot water for a shower, unless you wake up at five in the morning, which no one wants to do. You can’t always count on having clean dishes in the kitchen. And there’s no guarantee that you will have personal space, because you probably won’t.

I am a very independent person, and it has been difficult at times not to speak out about such frustrations. However, at this time and in this place in China, these challenges are put in perspective—a perspective that makes you realize that these challenges really aren’t too big of a deal. This is a place where we’re all able to communicate, and most of the time, understand and respect one another.

Tonight is our last night in Qingyundian. Looking out my bedroom window, I notice the sun is slowly setting behind the red tile roof tops of the buildings surrounding our home and the bare wintery trees are deeply contrasted by the slowly-fading blue sky. I can see outside in the courtyard: a group of students play a final game of frisbee while another play their last game of feather hacky. Inside our home, there is a quiet sort of commotion. Some frantically finish packing their suitcases while others clean the house and organize gifts, which will be distributed this evening to our English students.

Last year when I left I knew I’d be back. And tonight, as I finish packing my suitcase, I’m thinking about how I don’t know if I’ll ever be back to this small certain rural part of China. I don’t know if I’ll ever sit on these heated hardwood floors again. I’m not sure if I’ll ever see the people who work at New Day again; the people who, in two years, have become some of my good friends. And I’m not sure if I’ll ever walk down the familiar road to the small village of Qingyundian again.

Tomorrow we will take a train to Shanghai where we’ll be spending one week.

Respectfully submitted by Jake Stortini

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

It’s Wednesday night; we only have one more day at New Day before leaving on Friday morning and embarking on our next adventure. We’re all starting to worry a little. Tomorrow we’re going to be saying goodbye to the English students we’ve become friends with and the children we’ve provided care. And on Friday morning, through the bus window, we’re going to watch as we pass through Qingyundian—the place we’ve called home for the last ten days.

This morning, I braved the cold and went to the Lunar Market, which was about a fifteen minute walk. Looking down the path of the market, it appeared symmetrical. Bare skelatal-like trees line both sides and vendors have set up wooden tables between these trees, which they use to display their products. Some sell aged mushrooms; some sell fresh oranges; some blankets and clothes; others sugar-coated fruit. All of these people have one thing in common: they seem to be fascinated with simple conversation. Same vendors; same spots everyday; and same friends—their nearby vendor-friends and consistent customers. As a foreigner, this market is a lot like the village: as you walk, passersby stop and stare curiously; freshly slaughtered animals line wooden market tables for purchase; and all traffic is obviously influenced by your presence.

Tomorrow we will serve for our last day at New Day and walk through the village for our last time. And tomorrow night, we will have an English song-singing contest with our students before exchanging email addresses and saying our goodbyes. Although we all know we’ll probably never see one another again, it is the long lasting impact of these relationships that is essentially most important—we will remember these people forever.

Respectfully submitted by Jake Stortini

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

In the most rural areas of China, older people are often among the poorest of the poor, and sometimes live in severe poverty. Family is a priority in Chinese culture and most of the time children will support their parents when they become older. This is not always true—especially when parents do not have children or their children have passed away. Other times, the elderly are simply neglected and forgotten members of society.

In the small town of Qingyundian there is an elderly home which houses over seventy residents. Eleven of these individuals are poor and live on government assistance. All of them do not have family members who are able to provide them with care.

A few days ago I had the opportunity to visit the elderly care center with a few of the children from the preschool at New Day. They made cards and put together gifts for them for the Chinese New Year, which is coming up shortly. The children also prepared songs, in both Chinese and English—to sing to the elderly people.

The people who are housed in the elderly care facility do not receive many visitors. They often do not leave for days at a time and the only people they spend time with are their acquaintances within their hallways.

They were grateful for our visit and the children’s gifts and performances.

Respectfully submitted by Jake Stortini

Thursday, January 8, 2009

This week, I have reunited with old friends I met last year and have made many friends new friends. All of these friendships have one thing in common: although I will never see many of them again, they have left their lasting impressions on me. I will remember them and our usually simple conversations forever.

Teaching English language classes to Chinese college students, although very rewarding, is not an easy task—it is taken very seriously. You learn to appreciate the students’ eagerness to learn English. It’s also very entertaining; especially when humor breaks the seriousness of intense conversations over the distinct pronunciations of ‘smell’ and ‘smile’ or other like words.

Yesterday we had to prepare short skits in English with our students in groups of five to six. After a few minutes of discussion in my group, we decided our skit would be based off of “American Idol”—an unoriginal idea, but a great way for the students to practice their English language skills.

We had the students choose the songs they wanted to sing, keeping in mind that they were to perform these in front of an audience of fifty. Evan wanted to sing “Hey Jude” by The Beatles; Zach wanted to sing the Cops’ Theme Song “Bad Boys”; and Catherine and Janet decided to sing Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On”—American classics, at least, in the eyes of young Chinese college students.

Learning and teaching English classes can be extremely intense. That’s why when you have students who unintentionally make you laugh really hard by the songs they choose to perform, it’s a relieving break.

Respectfully submitted by Jake Stortini

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Tomorrow is my first day working at the foster home at New Day this year. Almost exactly one year ago, I had my first experience there.

The following is my journal excerpt from last year, dated January 14, 2008:

I have never been a huge fan of children. Their runny noses, nasty food, and screaming are not appealing to me. However, the other day, it all hit me. I was working with the children over at New Day. There was one little girl who kept following me around. Her name is Savannah. She is a six year old dwarf. Savannah was abandoned by her family at the gates of a local orphanage when she was two years old. She lived at the orphanage for three years until New Day took her in, in hopes of finding a family to adopt her. When I arrived at New Day that morning, Savannah came up to me. She grabbed my hand, looked up at me with her two missing front teeth and ponytails and smiled. She grunted, signaling that she wanted me to pick her up. I did. When I had her in my arms, she grabbed my cheeks and molded my face into a way that she found quite humorous. She could not stop laughing, and her laugh wasn’t a quiet kind one, but a laugh that squeals. I could not help but laugh, too. She then wanted down and she kept running from me, hiding behind toys. When I would chase after her, she would laugh, and run again. After about an hour and a half of playing, I had to leave for the evening. I waved ‘good-bye’ to her. She grabbed my hand, and looked up at me. “No,” she said in Chinese. I told her I would try to come back again. As I closed the door to the playroom, I looked back and saw her looking out of the window at me. Savannah’s nanny, Elva, opened the door and Savannah came running to me. She held onto my leg. Elva translated, saying that Savannah did not want me to leave. Savannah spoke again so I asked Elva what she was saying. “She called you ‘brother,’” Elva paused. “And said, ‘Please come back tomorrow.’”

Yesterday I was standing in the courtyard in front of our house. In the distance I saw the foster home nannies pushing strollers towards me, returning from a walk in the village. As they approached, I saw Savannah. She still looked exactly the same. And apparently I did too—she began staring at me in recognition. As they turned the corner to the foster home she turned her head around and continued looking at me until I was no longer in sight.

Tomorrow I will work in the foster home.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

I notice the analog clock on the wall is the same one that hung there last year. The decorative sheet of cloth in the doorway of the home is of the same fabric as last January. The blind woman is wearing the same red jacket she wore when I last visited her, and I was warmly welcomed by her husband in the courtyard of their home, just like last year.

Once we made our way into the front room of their home—which they’ve lived in for twenty years—we were gestured into their bedroom. We gathered around the woman, who was sitting down on the edge of her bed while her husband leaned against the wall.

Our friend Sally began speaking with them in Chinese, stopping periodically to translate, “She has serious damage to some of the nerves in her brain—she’s blind. She also has a problem with her legs. When it’s cold outside they swell and the pain is unbearable. She has to spend about ¥300 each month on medication alone, which is equivalent to about $45.”

Sally went on to explain how the woman’s husband works as a farmer in a local field. With his monthly income, they can barely afford the cost of her medications. But that’s their first priority, said the man, who also said they’ve been married for twenty years. Consequently, they make sacrifices in their food expenses.

That’s why, before visiting their home, we made a quick stop at a small store in the village of Qingyundian. It was there we purchased a bag of rice, a jug of oil, and freshly-slaughtered meat. Sally also gave her a new coat—one that covers and insulates her legs.

It was great to return to the same home and to see familiar faces. But more than anything, it was great to see the reactions of my fellow-travelers, who, today, for their first time, experienced the compassion of the Chinese and their happiness with their simple lives.

After we finished chatting with our two friends, we visited one other home—one I’d been to last year. Nothing had changed there either. The same cat with two different colored eyes sat by a coal stove keeping warm in the kitchen as it did last January. The man in his wheelchair wore the same green pants and gray jacket as he did the last time I visited. And, like the first home, I was warmly welcomed in the courtyard of their home, just like last year.

Respectfully submitted by Jake Stortini

Monday, January 5, 2009

The sky is bluer in China this January—coal burning ceased in preparations for the 2008 Olympics. It’s still as cold as ever. Lakes and small streams of water are frozen over, allowing for people to enjoy an afternoon of ice skating. Commercial skyscrapers are accented by flagpoles of Communist flags flying in the slight Beijing wind.

This morning, after visiting the Lama Temple in Beijing, we took the bus to New Day Creations in Qingyundian—the organization where we’ll spend the next almost two weeks teaching English language classes to college students and providing care to fostered children, all of whom have a medical condition.

For the duration of the bus ride I was able to quietly look out the bus window. I watched as coal-stained high-rise apartment complexes transformed into rural shacks. The passing of trains holding thousands of passengers became bicyclists transporting their groceries from the market to their homes. We began to pass vast open fields, bare and skeletal-like trees, and stray dogs. The many cranes and commercial high-rise buildings began to disappear while smoke stacks in the distance became visible, its billowing smoke contrasted by the blue sky. I knew we were getting close.

I was relieved when we arrived at New Day. Warmly welcomed by Caroline, the volunteer coordinator, I quickly remembered why this organization is such an important part of my life. As we toured the language school, the factory, and the foster home, I looked on quietly, taking it all in for my second time, and watching as my fellow-travelers reacted to the same things I did just one year ago.

It’s great to be a tourist, but nothing compares to what we’re going to experience in the next two weeks here: the conversations that will ensue between us and English students, the care that will be provided to the children at the foster home, and the adventures into the small village of 50,000 Chinese people that is Qingyundian. We are here to serve, but ultimately, we will be ones who are changed. Now that we are here, we can slow down.

Tomorrow we will begin teaching English language classes, caring for fostered children, and visiting families in the village.

Respectfully submitted by Jake Stortini

Sunday, January 4, 2009

While at home, I prefer spending more time by myself than with others. I use this time mainly for thought and study; the rest is spent with my family and a few select friends. I am guilty of often not recognizing the importance of the relationships I have. China reminds me that these relationships should be more of a priority in my life. Our visit to the Temple of Heaven today confirmed this thought.

When we arrived at the Temple of Heaven, I was relieved by its familiarity. We had the opportunity to split up, meeting back in one hour. I stayed with Grace, our friend from New Day who has generously helped us around Beijing these first few days. We came upon a woman and man playing “Taichi Rouli Ball,” a tai chi-styled ball game combining traditional tai chi ideas and forms with the modern ball games. I looked on, interested, and they gestured for me to come over and try. The woman handed me the racket and ball and I passed the ball over to the man. We played catch for a few minutes and although we had not spoken, I had just made two new friends.

Grace and I then walked through the courtyard—a place where old folks gather to spend time together. They have conversations, play card games, practice their calligraphy on the pavement, and play music together. While observing today, I saw two woman arguing over an article in their local newspaper, an older woman knitting beanies, and two people become friends through their game of feather hacky—a popular Chinese game.

This is where, on a cold winter afternoon, instead of passing time by studying, reading, or thinking, I’d rather learn how to play a new game, learn calligraphy, or make a new good friend.

Tomorrow we embark on our adventure to New Day.

Respectfully submitted by Jake Stortini

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Coming to China for a second time has made so many things possible. Although it may seem that going on the same tours and seeing the same tourist destinations for a second time may not be as exhilarating as the first time, it has allowed me a significant amount of time for thought. Rather than feeling the need to capture each moment with my camera, seeing everything again gives me time to thoroughly process it. I’ve been able to sit back and watch everyone react to China for their first time.

This morning, during a visit to an old-style Hutong residence, I remembered why I returned to China. We arrived at the home by way of rickshaw and were welcomed by an older woman. We all gathered in a larger room in her home, which was heated by an electric heater—a change from coal heating just two years ago. As she began speaking, our translator spoke: “The lady says, ‘My life is very interesting. I have fish, turtles, and a dog. Oh, and I have a pomegranate tree too. All the seeds mean a plentiful life and one full of many children—more seeds, more children. No wonder there are so many people in China,’” she joked. She went on to explain the significance of a courtyard home. “Here we get energy from the Earth,” she explained.

Our new friend then brought out a ceramic container with a lid on it. She pulled out a chair, bent down, took the lid off, and began shaking it out on the chair. Nothing came out. Picking it up again and squinting, she looked inside, laughing to herself. She shook it more, and grasshopper slowly crawled out. Our translator spoke: “The lady says, ‘Grasshoppers are good luck. They bring happiness, a good health, and wealth.’” She tried to put it back in its ceramic home, but it kept crawling out. Laughing, she tried to blow it in. After a few minutes it crawled back down in its home and she finally got the lid on. Looking at the closed ceramic, she shook her head and laughed.

Although the tourist destinations are incredible, it is the people that make China such a unique nation.

Respectfully submitted by Jake Stortini

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January 1, 2009 - January 22, 2009

Students from the Tacoma School of the Arts travel to Beijing, China, where they volunteer for a nonprofit aid organization, New Day Creations. The organization provides economic aid to a needy community outside Beijing. New Day Creations houses a foster care facility, a retreat center, a language school, a medical and dental clinic, a computer education program, and helps a local village school, and assists in an elder care program. Using the model of service learning, students learn firsthand about Chinese business, society and culture by working alongside graphic artists, factory workers, aid workers, teachers and caregivers. While volunteering at New Day Creations students will attend evening lectures on topics such as language, calligraphy, art, history and architecture. The retreat center will comfortably provide a place for students and chaperones to stay while working in Qingyundian.

Here you can find an ongoing journal of my trip.

"This isn't about China. It's about a certain small part of China at a certain brief period in time, and my hope has been to capture the richness of both the moment and the place." —Peter Hessler, River Town

—Jake Stortini, ­jakestortini@gmail.com