I am in the process of developing a very strong unspoken bond with the Chinese community. I say unspoken because, as of late, the women I've met haven't been able to communicate in English with me. But, no matter, we seem to understand one another just fine.
In May of 2010 I moved into Killarney, which is a predominantly Asian neighbourhood. Early one morning as I stood on Kingsway waiting for a bus an elderly Chinese woman approached me. She sat down and wrestled to unpeel her orange. We made eye contact a few times and sensing a language barrier we smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of one another. When she had managed to peel her orange she turned and offered me a portion. I shook my head and thanked her but she would not take no for an answer. She waved the orange around and gestured wildly. I thought she might drop it. Eventually, I gave in. I took the orange portion and smiled widely to let her know how appreciative I was. She nodded happily and clapped her hands together, obviously pleased with herself. Her generous spirit was highly contagious. I soon found myself digging through my purse in an attempt to return the favour. I pulled out a button, some lint, and a breath mint before I stumbled upon some pecans in a Ziploc bag. But as much as I offered she would not accept. Apparently, reciprocity was not the motivation behind this interaction.
A few months later I was sitting at Royal Oak sky train station on my way to work. I was completely consumed with the radio station I was listening to and so it probably took me a few minutes before I saw the woman standing before me. Once again an elderly Chinese woman had approached me, however, this time she presented a handful of change. We shared a moment of utter confusion before I looked into her eyes for a clue, which is when I realized she was asking me which change she needed for a ticket. I placed a twoonie and two quarters into her palm and closed her hand. She bowed and said “Thank you! Thank you!” “Not a problem.” I replied. She turned around and headed into the station. As I sat there it dawned on me that if she did not know which coins to choose it was even less likely that she would understand the touch screen purchasing interface with or without the Chinese option. My suspicions were correct. I rushed over and was just in time to see her insert her change into the bill deposit slot never to return. Immediately realizing her mistake she searched for a button that would release her change but there wasn’t one. I felt terribly that this had happened. I should have accompanied her over to the machine! So, I fished out my wallet and removed my debit card. I swiftly tapped the screen and requested a day pass. Before she knew what I was doing I had handed her a transfer. She shook her head in recognition and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. Why had I assumed she didn’t have any other money? Was it because she approached me with no more than three-fifty in change? Or, was it because growing up poor taught me that if you lost your money you were S.O.L? Regardless, I had already made my decision. I declined her money and pointed towards the train only after properly indicating where to place her coins in the future. She nodded, “Thank you. Thank you,” and proceeded to pull out and offer me some fruit but this time in the form of an apple. I chuckled.
Last Thursday I was heading home on the sky train. I had decided since the weather was decent I might walk home. But before I ventured out from 29th Avenue station I thought it would be wise to check to see if a bus was about to depart. There is hardly anything more frustrating than to watch a bus pass you by. I walked up to the timetable and discovered it would be twenty minutes before the next bus departed. Considering the walk home would only take fifteen minutes I turned to leave. But, as I turned around a Chinese woman beckoned me over. I instinctively told her that the next bus would leave in twenty minutes and walked away but she followed me. At this point I realized that she couldn’t understand me and so I repeated myself although, this time with exaggerated gestures and mimed numbers. She continued to tag along. I wondered whether she thought that I would taker her to another bus stop. She trailed behind and I slowed my pace so she could keep up with me but she slowed hers in order to stay back. We arrived at a bus stop and I told her that the bus would arrive in ten minutes. She paused and looked as though she might stand and wait and then continued walking after me. Perhaps she wanted some company on the way home for protection. Granted, it was midnight, dark and cold, and not all that farfetched. I slowed my pace further still and removed one of my head phones from my ear. “So, what’s your name?” I asked. “Thank you. Thank you,” she replied after shooing me to keep walking. I am not the type of person to walk with someone eight paces behind me. It felt uncomfortable. We are all equal after all. I persisted, “Do you live around here?” She replied in Mandarin and then it was my turn to say, “Thank you.” and look completely perplexed. In the end, she would end up walking me all the way home. When we arrived at my block I didn’t know whether to shake her hand or give her a hug goodbye. I settled on a smile and a wave and with that she disappeared into the night.
These instances with these three Chinese women have served to remind me to live generously, be helpful, and resourcefully caring. They have brought me joy, pride, and to a certain extent even security. Above all else, they have created a sense of community in my new neighbourhood and I thank them for their inclusion. So, in the spirit of Chinese New Year, which ushers in the year of the Rabbit, I encourage you to share some time, answer a question, or even share a little fruit.
Gung Hay Fat Choy!
