Glimpses of the Past

Last night, Wynn and I lounged in my bed and talked for an hour and a half.  What a wonderful girl.  She works so hard to express herself in a language not yet her own.   And I work very hard to understand and ask for clarification, but still our communication is not perfect.  Cherished, but not perfect. (After she talked for an hour and a half, she said, "Now, your turn.  You talk."  I had no clue what to say - told some random stories about how water was drawn from the well when I was a kid and how I used to like getting firewood and how the whole family would pile and burn brush in the spring, which I always loved.)

Using Wynn's words when possible, here is what I learned, or what I interpreted, and she can correct me later if I've made mistakes.  So forgive awkward syntax as I slip in and out of her voice.

I had learned a while back that Wynn's schooling was a boarding-school-type experience, where the kids were bused to the school on Sunday evening (when they arrived, they could eat dinner or just go do homework and go to bed) and bused back to the village Friday evening.  Glimpses.  They woke up early in the morning and went for a run before breakfast.  Then, some of the children (unsure how these were selected - rotating shifts or those who had earned disfavor?) had to go clean the classrooms.  Art was her favorite class, and English her least favorite.  English was OK, but the teacher was mean.  Any mistakes meant writing long lists of words over and over.  In P.E., there was a frog jump exercise that made your thighs very tired and hurt.  Sometimes it was very cold, and you wore your coat all the time, unless you didn't have a coat, then very cold.  She would get money from her mom for lunch, and you could share food sometimes.  (Did that mean some children did not have money for lunch?)

Friday afternoons were the best, everyone happy, because going home.  You had to run to the bus with your very heavy backpack if you wanted to sit on the bus instead of stand, holding on and swaying (pantomimed), the whole trip.

At home, there was time to play, but also a lot work to be done.  It seems this work might be - or was regularly? - inspected, and it seems there was definitely some pressure from the orphanage management to do things their way.  (And I will try hard to report what she said without my editorializing by mixing in other things that I have heard of the peculiar culture unique to the Kunming orphanage.)  Every morning, they had to clean well.  She pantomimed sweeping, then she picked up a sock and pantomimed dusting.  She pointed at a cobweb in the upper corner in my own bedroom (yes, I admit it - and that's not nearly the only one) and said, "No spider.  You understand?"  And wash, and clean clothes.  Because if not clean, then don't get the money.  If children not clean, don't get the money.  If children don't study, then don't get the money.  Mom . . . not really like mom, kind of like teacher.  She always have to . . . brother can't see, can't talk, but Mom always, 'Where's eyes? Where's ears? Where's mouth?' because if children don't learn, then they skip the money.


The family would harvest rice together.  You wore tall boots for the water, with no socks.  You waded in and (pantomime scything) and picked the rice up.  The children had the job of taking out all the leaves.  The rice was spread out to dry, and wearing special slippers, turned and mixed with the feet.  Then, you had to change clothes because you itch, itch, itch.  There was lots of work to be done with the animals:  pigs, chickens, sheep, goats, cows, horses.  This may have been community work rather than family work.  (?)  Some children had conditions harsher than others.  She told of one boy who stood out because he never got to play, only to work.  He had sores on his back from carrying so much.  He had a large house with opportunities for fun, but he never got to do these things (like fish in the family's fish pond), only to work.

June 1 is children's day.  It is like a common birthday for all the children younger than middle school with gifts and games.  This is a very fond memory.  She wants to teach us some of the games, like "worm," in which the children hold hands and chase each other, and if caught, you have to join the chain of hand-holding children and become part of the worm.

They became very worried as her birthday approached, two months before her birthday, one month before her birthday. (So much for them telling me that she was told about her coming adoption 5 months before we came.)  If her birthday, then 18 years old, go to a place where there are old people and care for them (pantomime feeding and washing), every day, every day, until you die.  Some people can go to high school, but only if have money.  "My mother say I'm very lucky I come here."

(Wynn, I will post later about that - about being "lucky," so when you read English better, you can read about how I feel about that.  In summary, it is not luck, it is blessing.  And it is we who are blessed - so blessed! - by you.  I'll say  more about that later.)

I have tried to report what Wynn said and let her words speak for themselves and have tried  to leave my interpretations minimal.  But I went to sleep with tears on my pillow.

And this morning, she called me "Mom" for the first time.