And Now, Shi Shou

Martin is an avid and conscientious host. He is so conscientious he called me several times on the bus, sent me text messages and was even there to greet me before I actually got off the bus. He then walked me through the village, introducing me to most everyone there. It seems he is, in some manner or fashion kin to most everyone who lives there.

Shi Shou has one claim to fame. In 2009 a hotel chef was allegedly murdered by government officials to ensure his silence with regard to corrupt dealings these official workers undertook within the walls of that establishment. Two days of rioting followed. The parents of Tu Yuangao refused to allow their son’s body to be removed, demanding an investigation into his death. The police refused to investigate, stating that the young man had committed suicide. They offered the parents money provided they would sign a statement acknowledging their son’s death by his own hand. The parents refused. More citizens joined them in blocking entry to the hotel. During the debacle, the establishment was torched. Tu’s body was finally removed and cremated, and no money was ever paid to the family. The controversy still rages, with the family and most of the villagers believing their son was murdered, while the police assiduously keep a lid on any uprisings with regard to the skirmish. The whole incident is a blemish on the town’s peaceful, seemingly innocuous appearance. Its only visual indication is the husk of the burnt out hotel, still visible today (see picture).

There the villagers did everything they could to accommodate me and assure my comfort, draping my knees with a quilt and providing me with space heaters, and even a heated, luxuriously appointed room to sleep in.

I visited with Martin and his family for two days. Martin is also a former student turned friend who had repeatedly extended an invitation to his home. I had met his parents once, as they visited Wuhan to tend to him when he got sick. His mother is such a sweetheart and his father is generous and kind. They did their utmost to assure I would feel welcome and wanted. Not that I didn’t feel that way at Dash’s home.

Martin’s mother met her husband while washing clothes. Her village is across the creek from her husband’s and he fell in love with her, watching her pound brightly colored garments on the rocks by the water. They are still madly in love with one another. He has provided her with a beautiful, well appointed house. She in turn has made it a home complete with good smells wafting from the kitchen, cross stitched decorations on the walls and quilts that she made herself draping the beds. In the open parlor, the entrance to the house is a shrine to his relatives going back three generations.

Neither of these lovebirds has more than a rudimentary education, yet they are as happy and in love as any couple I’ve ever seen. They observe a traditional way of life in which she manages the household and he brings home the bread and all associated commodities. Their fine house is the best in the village, with high ceilings and a fenced in yard. The kitchen is large enough for a grand dining room table as well as ample counter space, ready to welcome modern accoutrements such as rice cookers, crock pots and a microwave oven. She, being very old school will have no such gadgets, preferring to prepare food in the old time way her mother and her mother’s mother has.

While she does in fact make use of a rice cooker, hot water is boiled over a ceramic coal fired stove, dishes are washed in cold water and all food is cooked using a single wok.

There are modern concessions in the home, however. A computer connected to the internet, a hot water heater in the bathroom downstairs, and a second bathroom upstairs that, as yet has no functional plumbing.

I cannot fault Martin or his family for their graciousness, their welcome or their efforts to see to my comfort. I blame it on weariness. Travel weariness – having gone so many places in such a short time, and being around so many people. Not just the wedding and the visiting, but being on buses, on trains, on the streets of the various cities I visited this winter break. After a while, all the noise and the putting on ‘the face’ is quite tiring. By the time I got to Shi Shou I was worn out and ready to not have someone in my immediate vicinity for every one of my waking hours. And, even though Martin’s mom is adorable, sweet kind and generous, she is affected with this… need? Habit? I’m not sure from where it springs but she likes to physically link herself to me at all times. Nothing wrong with companionship or physical contact but I need space, and now I need downtime.

I had meant to stay at Martin’s for at least 3 days but found I only had enough fortitude and reserve for an overnight stay. I made my apologies and expressed my regrets. On one level I do indeed regret my painful introversion. It makes it necessary for me to claim my space and find quiet to recharge my batteries. I could tell my hosts were disappointed but, better I leave now while I can still maintain appearances than linger longer than I have strength or resilience for.

Upon word of my early departure Martin’s mother made sure I had all manner of goods to take back to Wuhan with me. Some oranges and apples, a few yoghurt drinks, some home made sausages and, of all things a whole, cut up chicken, some ginger and a stick of cinnamon. These last few were because I had commented favorably on her delicious homemade chicken soup. Apparently, I would be unable to procure a chicken for myself so I had to take a ‘country’ chicken back to the city with me.

The house shoes she gave me as a gift. She had made them herself. All in all, I left Shi Shou burdened with about three times the weight I arrived there with.

Before escorting me to the bus station, the family opted to treat me to a luxurious meal at the finest restaurant in town. I was honored. And, because I was leaving prematurely, everyone who wanted to meet the ‘family foreigner friend’ was invited to dinner as well. In all we had 8 people seated around the table.

I felt sorry for the poor waitress. Once we placed our order she had to keep coming back to let us know that something we had ordered was not available. She always offered to substitute it for something else, which was good of her, but on the last few forays into our private dining room, the poor thing got yelled at a time or two. Not her fault things on the menu were not actually in the kitchen! And then she got yelled at for taking too long to bring the food. I have to admit: it did take quite a while before our table was laden with anything to eat. Not that I was in a hurry, mind you…

Yes I was! I was in a huge hurry! By now I had a physical need to be in my own space and place! I wanted 8PM to get here quickly so I could board the bus and be left alone with my thoughts!

I’m sounding like a broken record but that is honestly how imperative this feeling was. So, you can imagine my disappointment when, not only did the entire coterie escorted me to the bus station, and then waited the 30 minutes till I was able to board the bus. And then they all accompanied me onto the loading dock to see to it that I got safely on the bus. And then they stuck around outside, entreating the bus conductor to personally see to my safety.

I feel like I’m being smothered. I think there is such a thing as too much hospitality. I’m really trying to not be negative about my visit there, which actually was quite pleasant except for my overwhelming need to reclaim my space and my thoughts. Only once the bus actually pulled out of the station did everyone wend their way home.

Maybe the discomfort I felt at being too accessible, and the feeling I was being invaded is what made these two entries so difficult to write. They are done now, and at least one of them has given rise to another entry I hope you will find interesting.