An Incredible Learning Journey

My life in China was a medley of incredible experiences. Some were gold. Others not so. Each one provided me with a deep insight into the culture and the people. Each one deepened my love for that country. Throughout my blog, I will share random memories …

I was the only Westerner on board the flight to Lanzhou in Gansu Province, North-Western China. A couple of years ago, that would have concerned me. After living in China for almost ten years now, I felt very much at home being the only blonde and probably the tallest person, on the flight. However, being stared at and discussed constantly, was not something I took lightly. It somehow always made me feel very lonely. I worked hard at developing a ‘thick-skin-attitude’ which would hopefully protect me from these unpleasant reactions of mine. The temptation to return the glares would have provided a form of temporary solace, but my mom always taught us that staring was rude. I opted for glaring at the paper cup in my hand. It clearly had a defined use in my world that night. The warmth of that coffee gently unfolded into my fingers and into my emotions.

The weeks leading up to this journey had been an endless series of excitement - enjoying the delights of both Cape Town and Hermanus – my two beautiful homes in South Africa. I had just returned from the Christmas holidays spent with family, which of course had been a series of delicious meals, wines and sunshine. Embarrassingly, I hadn’t so much as looked at a map to see where exactly Lanzhou was situated. Somewhere in China – of that I was certain. 

Whilst enjoying my quiet time on that flight, I wondered just who would be gaining the more valuable knowledge on this adventure – the twenty-two participants in the upcoming training sessions or myself. I was eager to experience personal growth. Something I needed, as I had experienced feelings of being ‘stuck-in-a-rut’ lately. Knowing who my audience would be and understanding their stories, I knew that compassion and a deeper admiration for the teachers of China’s poorest would dominate the next few days. What I did not know, was the depth of pain to which I would bear witness. My eyes and my heart were to be opened. Opened to a raw, ruthless pain which leaves no person untouched.

The international organisation, Right To Play, had invited me to assist in a five-day training event. The objectives were to develop the skills of teachers, implement play-based learning, extend their knowledge in early childhood development and assist in providing quality-learning opportunities for the children. Topics to be discussed included the Right To Play Methodology, Child Protection, Early Child Brain Development and Kindergarten Room Set-up. I was to share my knowledge of Early Child Behavioural Management and Communication with Children – all with the help of an interpreter. A daunting thought and a tough challenge.  Working together, we would need respect and understanding of each other’s cultures, thinking processes and belief systems.

The 3-hour flight was pleasant enough. However, the food served on local airlines has always left a lot to the imagination. Dinner consisted of a rock-hard bun, with a slice of 'rubberized' meat wedged between the bread. This ‘blockage-in-tin-foil’ was hurled at me as the flight attendants pushed the trolley down the aisle at a rate of knots. After all these years, I remain saddened by the lack of service resulting from bad attitudes on board certain flights. There was clearly no passion for this important career. No desire to please. No pride. Simply a job. 

The plane landed at 11pm. My mom would have described it as an arrival, not a landing. Together with my three lovely Chinese colleagues, I was whisked off to a very well-heated car for the journey to Lanzhou. The temperatures were gruesome. I sat next to the driver. As I couldn’t communicate with anyone, I enjoyed the scenery which possessed a stark, almost sinister, beauty. An aura of haunting eeriness shrouded the mountain peaks. The full moon bathed the landscape in gentle light. I felt safe. The goose-bumps from the very low temperatures outside, created chilling ribbons throughout my body. There I was – technically alone – in a part of the world, far from anywhere it seemed. It was intriguing. With absolutely no idea of how long the journey would take and with no idea of our exact position, I snuggled deeper into the seat. For endless miles, the burning flames of oil refineries reached high into the bitterly cold night-sky. A marriage of what Mankind is undertaking and that of what God has created.  An overhead signpost read, ‘Lhasa left, Qinghai right.’ Absolute exhilaration filled my every cell. I had always wanted to visit Lhasa and now it seemed within my reach.

On arriving at our non-descript hotel, situated deep in the Muslim area of Lanzhou, I was more than relieved to see the beautiful face of Cheryl – a very special family friend. Cheryl works for Right To Play and was the course co-ordinator. We had both only just returned from gorgeous summer days in Cape Town and now we were in minus 20 degrees C, near Lhasa, Tibet. The wonder of travel …

Lanzhou is an industrial city. Very grey. Very polluted. Very ugly. Besides the warmth of the people, the famous local noodles made the ruthless temperatures bearable. Those noodles were served piping hot. Full of flavour, they cost a mere 3.5 RMB. The bowls were huge and so welcoming to hold between my freezing hands. Each day we filled our bellies with the deliciousness and aromas of Muslim food. There was no time for sight-seeing. Each day was taken up with lectures, training and discussions. We did break for meals. These proved to be both a gastronomic delight and more importantly, a time for intimate chats. I’m a firm believer in embracing a culture through my taste buds. The richness. The variety. The colours. Exploring flavours never tasted before. The food of a culture says so much about the people. A beautiful way to show people your respect for their culture and for them in return, to share with you, who they are and what they hold dear.

The interesting Muslim men in their long black robes, white skull caps and incredibly long, pointed beards held a fascination for me. Needless to say, I caused a stir wherever I went as I towered over the local people. Being tall and blonde in that environment resulted in one man stopping his truck dead in the middle of the road, scrambling to stand next to me to have his photo taken. Hooters blasting and donkeys everywhere. He smiled a toothless smile. Stood on tip-toes for the moment and clambered back into the contraption. The traffic moved on.

Not only did I gain valuable insight into the lives of others, I met courageous people who took the time to share their stories with me. As I said earlier, all the communication was done through interpreters which was a huge learning curve for me - timing my lines, waiting, speaking a few more sentences, waiting. With communication being one of my topics, it was actually incredible to experience how people can communicate with one another, without a common language. Gestures, tones and a smile worked wonders. Barriers were instantly dissolved. The love and the passion, the dedication and sincerity, shared by the participants shattered all boundaries and obstacles. 

Three Tibetan teachers in particular, crept deep inside my heart. I cried silently within as they told their stories. They had survived the recent devastating earthquake in Yushu, Qinhai Province. On that fateful day in April 2010, nearly 1200 people lost their lives in one of the worst earthquakes to have ever hit the region. The country was in mourning. Some of the children they had been teaching, were crushed to death right beside them as they crouched together, trying to survive. They carry with them a deep sadness that will linger forever. I asked myself, “How does one work through such horror?” One of these Tibetan ladies broke into song during our last meal together. She sang. Her incredibly beautiful voice cutting through the thick layers of sadness that hung heavily over us. We tried in vain to hold back the tears. Such beauty. Such grief. 

It was one of these special souls – a teacher – who found comfort in the simplicity of the play-dough donated by my school in Beijing. He spent hours moulding, caressing and creating. Always deep in thought. Trying, with courage, to confront and deal with the tormenting burden of pain in his heart. Perhaps those little children had never seen the magical powers of simple play-dough. Bidding him farewell, he held my hand and said to me, “Come to Lhasa. I will walk beside you in the mountains.”

In one of the training sessions, I proudly explained that one-on-one care and sharing with a child – who, for example, is scared and insecure at school – will build self-confidence and security. A young participating teacher quietly stood up, taking time to formulate her words. She softly asked me, “How do I give that kind of attention when I’m the only adult in a class of sixty-three children?” This question and many others, equally heart-breaking, left me at a loss for words. Where does one begin to help in these situations? The enormity of their challenges is so severe. So undeniably difficult. 

Despite the seemingly insurmountable challenges that these teachers face on a daily basis, their attitudes and warmth towards people are remarkable. I have no doubt that the work they do – whether as NGO workers or as teachers in the field – is making a huge, positive difference to humanity. I feel very blessed to have been given the opportunity to connect with other educators of such a vastly different background to my own. My eyes were opened. My heart was exposed. My emotions shredded. It is without doubt, that I want to work alongside people of this calibre in the future.

The training ended. We bid farewell to beautiful souls and heart-breaking stories. With a certain heaviness in our hearts, Cheryl and I made our way to the station where we boarded the train to Beijing. To the city of wealth and of opportunity. We experienced one of the most beautiful gifts a traveller in China could ask for - a private, deluxe compartment. Complete with our own western-style loo! The 22-hour journey back to Beijing suddenly became a fabulously luxurious experience.