Shao Jün

I woke up this morning with nervous anticipation, mostly for the day’s trip with little ability to focus on its destination. Armed with an address translated to characters, my travel phrase book, and my cell phone, I set out to find my way on my own to QingYuan. I didn’t sleep much last night. I was too fret with dreams about getting lost, taking the wrong bus, ending up at a faraway location, or not having enough money to get back from my erroneous quest.

 

The day, as have been most of the days since my arrival, was misty, overcast, and cold. The 4 yuan bus ride from Peizheng brought me to the long distance bus station at the edge of Huadu. There, I handed my note typed in Google Translate that read “I want to go to this location. How much?” along with the paper with the address. The attendant asked, “QingYuan?” “Dui,” I confirmed. With my 20 yuan ticket in hand, I walked to the boarding area and simply handed it to an attendant, and she was able to point me to the right line to wait. She pointed out on my ticket that the bus would leave at 8:40 am. Carefully staring at the Hanzi symbols as the buses pulled into the stalls, I spotted the familiar characters 清远 I had quickly memorized from my ticket. My tension eased a little as I settled into my seat, feeling confident in my success so far. I carefully watched the road signs as we headed out of town and passed under signs that confirmed we were headed to QingYuan.

We arrived 55 minutes later at the station and I headed out the front entrance, where I was sure to stop and take a picture for my return trip. This little tip is a good one that a more experienced friend shared with me. Taking pictures of places you may want to go makes it easy to show the driver without the need to speak a word. After being pursued by several motorcycle-taxi drivers, I handed my paper with the address to a car taxi driver. Several of the cycle taxi drivers crowded around debating the location of my address until my driver confirmed he could take me. We agreed on 30 yuan and set on our way. In retrospect, I should have negotiated the price, as that is quite expensive for the 15 minute drive we took, but when I think, hey, it’s $5, I often struggle to muster my courage to create a fuss. Some other new friends taught me a very important phrase in which you must be armed before making any purchase in China. “Tai gui le” means “too expensive!” Apparently the Chinese love to haggle and always want to make a sale. I, on the other hand, get too embarrassed and usually take the price I’m offered or simply refuse the deal. My taxi ride provided me a nice tour of the new little town I had discovered. Unlike Huadu, QingYuan has access to large bodies of water. So while we drove through the streets, I saw vendors with their fresh catches. Beautiful large fish, frogs, crickets, and ducks were all available for the choosing. All of these choices were still alive and waiting for your purchase to be freshly butchered for tonight’s dinner.

 

We arrived at a large gated facility where I paid the fare and made the call to my contact who was expecting me. She didn’t answer and I panicked. Was I at the right location? Had she forgotten about my coming? I stood at the gate for what seemed like a long time when a Chinese man directed me toward a Chinese woman just arriving. I simply said “Joy Smith?” She nodded and took me toward the entrance. I had arrived to spend the day at the local children’s orphanage. When I decided to come to China, serving in an orphanage was something I was sure I wanted to do, being one of the things in which I had hoped to do in order to make some small impact while I’m here.

 

In the small office, I met Joy, an American woman the same age as me, tall – very tall, with long dark frizzy hair and glasses. She gave me a quick greeting and apologized for our unusual introduction but said she must leave immediately to attend to sick twins at the local hospital. Joy has been in China with her parents and siblings for 10 years. She has been working with this orphanage for 8 years. They trust her and include her on their difficult cases, like the twins. The twins are 8 months old and were abandoned at a local hospital at birth. The hospital had been caring for them and their congenital disease, narrowing of the trachea. But, after 8 months, the hospital called the orphanage saying they can no longer care for the babies and want the orphanage to take them. However, their condition is too fragile and they are not well enough to come to the orphanage. Joy was brought in and hopes to set up a foster family who can care for these small babies until they are stronger. At 8 months old, their bodies are flaccid and their heads are flat and elongated. They have NEVER been held. In Chinese hospitals, “care” simply means “medical provision.” They do not provide meals or any other daily care. It is necessary for family members to take care of each other when they have to spend time in a hospital.

 

I was shown upstairs by a Chinese man who was part of Joy’s volunteer team. There, I met 4 other women who had joined Joy for the day’s volunteering. We quickly made ourselves at home, scooping up babies and reading books to children. The room was cold, though not as drab as I had expected. Tile floors and walls made the room cold, but the little “Mickey” tiles that bordered the top edge added a little happiness. There were not many toys. Two big plastic cars sat in the middle of the floor, big enough for the toddlers to “ride” in. There were two books and one puzzle strewn on the floor. The mobile children ran wild, through the main sitting/play area and back into the infant room where all the cribs were. There, I found children unplugging heaters to push around like toys, and climbing on a plastic bucket to reach a case of CD’s on a high shelf. There was but one ayi (literal translation is aunt). All the children were dressed in many layers of clothes as, even though there were big heaters, the room doors were open and it was freezing. Though dressed warmly, many children ran around with only thin socks or none at all. There were a few pairs of shoes being worn by some.  After reading several memoirs and accounts of the transgressions that occur in many Chinese orphanages, I found the conditions better than expected, with all of the children looking healthy and clean. Most of the children are mildly to severely mentally handicapped, varying from Down ’s syndrome to cerebral palsy. The youngest baby I cared for required cleaning of her umbilical cord. She has not even received a name yet as she has only been there three days. She “looked” healthy to me, but medical tests will be needed to determine her condition. I was saddened and intrigued, that even after such a short stay at the orphanage, she had already learned not to cry. As I redressed her after a bath, and cleaned her cord she made not a sound. In the 8 hours that we were there, she had nothing to eat. Yet still, not a sound.

 

The oldest was a normal and healthy girl of 7 years whose father had died suddenly. With no mother in her life, she was brought to the orphanage only one week ago. She seemed quite happy and adjusted given her sudden life change. I am sure she will have many struggles in the days ahead as she realizes the permanence of her father’s death and her new condition. She was a bright and happy little thing, though not even those who spoke Mandarin could understand her, as she spoke a varying local dialect.

 

My little sweetheart with whom I had a connection is called Shao Jün. I was sitting on the wooden bench holding a small baby girl when Shao Jün was plopped in a walker nearby. She immediately began fussing, shaking her head back and forth and saying, “Mama, mama.” Shao Jün is also very new at the orphanage. Having 8 front teeth and her first molars, I’d say she’s about 18 months old. Her big round eyes caught mine as she whimpered for her mama, so I scooped her up. She immediately stopped her small fuss and instead started nodding her head. She sat effortlessly on my lap for the next hour. Her beautiful round face had me entranced. Though she seemed plump and healthy for her age, she doesn’t sit up well on her own and she makes no attempt to use her legs. I tickled her little feet and she responded with a little arch of her foot. I’m not sure why she can’t use her legs. Maybe that is why she was given up after more than a year with her family. I don’t know her story. At our lunch time, I was forced to put her down for a nap. She returned to shaking her head and whimpered calling for her mama and reaching her arms to me. After trying to rub her and calm her, I covered her and walked away sadly.

 

In the afternoon after we had given all the children baths and helped lotion, trim nails, and redress them, I spent some time with a precious little girl with Down’s syndrome. She is probably 3 years old and is a little ball of energy. I tried to sit down on the floor with her, but she would simply tug me by both hands until I stood up. Then she would reach her arms up to me. I would pick her up and she was content to simply be held as long as I was standing. I “danced” with her on my hip. Grabbing one hand in mine, I bounced around the room. I would switch to the other hip and hand and go the other direction. When I stopped, she would lean down grabbing for my hand. I made kisses on her cheeks near her ears and she would giggle heartily. She was the only child, besides the new 7-year old arrival that had any hair to speak of. All the rest have their hair buzzed short so you can’t tell who is a girl or a boy. She had silky smooth hair cut in a short bob with little bangs. She was barefoot all morning and I noticed the unique gap between her big toe and the rest. She smiled constantly and has such a sweet little spirit.

 

Later, I went to find Shao Jün. I couldn’t recognize her immediately as she now had on different clothes, but her little face couldn’t be missed for long. I went to her and she shook her head at me, staring me right in the face, as if to say, “No, you left me earlier.” I picked her up anyway and she buried her head in my chest. She looked back up at me and started nodding. My heart is already hers.