And Then It Snowed ... Chapter 4

We were experiencing life from a most unfamiliar angle. Having grown up in the hotter regions of South Africa, both the amount of snow and the pristine beauty it held, kept us mesmerised. The snow-storms and the numerous challenges they presented, were foreign to us. Time was spent affixed to the windows. Watching in silence as more and more of the white beauty fell upon us. 

Our beloved, yet iron-willed Mrs Chen went about her daily chores clad in layer upon layer of what warm clothing she had. Not the designer type one would find in Switzerland, but rather that which she had purchased in the underground section of one of the numerous local markets. On more than one occasion, our stocky hostess shovelled the snow from against our front door. Chortling away at full speed in Mandarin, she displayed fortitude and determination. Perhaps it was her exasperation at seeing Mr Chen leaning against his spade, admiring his wife, which propelled her physical ability.  We would clap, giving thanks to this feisty woman. With an embarrassed attitude, she would throw her hands in the air and plod off towards the kitchen. 

Three times a day, this great lady managed to produce the most amazing authentic Chinese cuisine. Dishes of piping hot rice, peanuts, eggplant, dumplings and bowls of garlic covered the not-so-elegant tablecloth. Thereafter, with full bellies, we braved the incredible cold, in order to throw snowballs at one another, to build a snowman and to watch as Themba attempted to relieve himself in almost four feet of snow …

The snow continued to fall. Throughout Sunday night and well into Monday afternoon. Many more hours were spent witnessing the white gentleness covering our world. Adding untouched splendour to everything on which it rested. Gentleness which carried beauty. However, hidden within that beauty, lay the power to control people, lives and transport.

With each passing hour we would look through the window of the bathroom. For this enabled us to see the wider landscape. Not only that, it was now the warmest space we had. Outside, the branches of trees hung heavy. No longer with snow. But with ice. Tentacles of ice. Each one a masterpiece. Intricate designs chiselled by the hand of the Creator. Embedded in layers of crystal-clear perfection. They seemingly propagated from the rooftops. Adding a spectacular touch of elegance and charm. It was getting colder. The room and the Kang had lost their magical warmth. It took more effort to keep warm. More layers of those heavyweight duvets. Brushing teeth became a nightmare. The water was unbearably icy. That was, until the pipes froze and not a drop could pass through. Added to this scenario, our mental wellbeing was suffering as our coffee supply was exhausted. Green tea definitely has its place in the world. However, not when one is craving the physical and mental warmth that only dark, rich and creamy coffee provides.

Monday afternoon brought along blue skies and brilliant sunshine. We joined the people of the village in shovelling huge areas of snow. Of prime importance was to create a pathway on which to walk. Snow had turned to ice, making walking or even standing upright, an amusing, if not a nerve-wracking experience. It was once again evident that we had stepped back in time. The tools and resources available were simple. However, they clearly served their purpose. And served it well. Picks were used to chip away at the ice. Spades then shovelled the mass onto the tray of an antiquated wheelbarrow. With its one-wheel only, the metal structure stood firm accepting the load.

At the far end of what had served as a narrow road, stood that darn ‘Miandi’. Shrouded under a blanket of snow, she needed to be dug out of her icy cradle. It was clear that she was our only available option of leaving the village. My experiences of travelling in a ‘Miandi’ were far from over. However, the snow was packed solidly around her. I hid my smile of relief behind my scarf. Mr. Chen continued to assure us that the army would soon be making their way up to the village. The roads would be cleared with their heavy equipment. He seemed so optimistic. Always smiling. That alone was no guarantee that he believed his own words.

It was heart-warming to witness the people of the village giving of their time to clear pathways. Their friendly chatter falling from frozen lips. Cheeks scarlet from exposure to the cold. Strong, cracked knuckles bent in determination. Pushing, pulling and shovelling the hefty mounds of snow. It appeared, during those few hours, that these were people who dealt with hardships with a certain amusement. They had probably faced challenges most of their lives, and had not allowed suffering to take its toll. For today they smiled. They mingled. Acknowledging the togetherness in the task ahead. Forming clusters, the villagers surrendered to the warmth of local brand cigarettes. 

People of all ages were celebrating the wonder of snow. Snowballs were thrown at each other with gusto. Children brave enough to throw snow at the foreigners, shrieked in delight when we returned the deed. At times like this, people of all ages tend to become child-like. We did. We laughed. We shrieked with joy and from the cold. The simplicity of the situation was tangible. People from across the world, from across cultures, interacting. United in joy. No language needed. Accepting one another. A reminder of how things on earth could be. Should be.

To be continued …