Xue Xinran
Xue Xinran
"Real China is made by Chinese mothers and grandmothers, from each individual family's hard work," says Xinran.
Kaixin first came across Xinran on a video broadcast - (Fora TV .. see below, you can access the full broadcast from there). In it, there was a question from a Tibetan in Exile and then a detailed answer from Xinran (See Ch:20 in the full programme).
Xinran made a very telling reply. She had spent 9 years researching for her book on Tibet. She pointed out the long close history between Xi Zang & Zhong Guo, noting that Tibet was an English word and it was the English that bought about the concept of an independent Tibet in 1913 +++.
See Kaixin’s ‘China & Tibet’
I then listened to what she had to say elsewhere. Very impressive. She made the point to the Tibetan lady who asked the question that the Dalai Lama had said, "Only light gets rid of darkness".
I leave it to you to listen to the full Q & A, see Fora TV above.
I was particuarly impressed by her comment that when people look at China now as a powerful country and try to understand it using economic indicators they miss the point. China was built on the hard work of all the average people working and contributing to their nation, from 1979.
More importantly, she told the story of a mother who lived in a shelter beside a public toilet. See Video below. That mother had sent her children to university. She received no government support, so you know just how hard that must of been.
Xinran made the telling obersation that the China of today was built on the love and devotion of the mothers and grandmothers of China. For me, married to a Chinese mum, that defined China completely.
Xuē Xīnrán (薛欣然, pen name Xinran) is a British-Chinese journalist and broadcaster, born in Beijing in 1958.
In the late 1980s, she began working for Chinese Radio and went on to become one of China's most successful journalists. In 1997 she moved to London, where she initially worked as cleaner. In London, she began work on her seminal book about Chinese women's lives The Good Women of China, a memoir relating many of the stories she heard while hosting her radio show ("Words on the Night Breeze") in China. The book is a candid revelation of many Chinese women's thoughts and experiences that took place both during and after the Cultural Revolution when Chairman Mao and Communism ruled the land. The book was published in 2002 and has been translated into over thirty languages.
Sky Burial, her second book, was published in 2004. This is the story of Shu Wen, whose husband, only a few months after their marriage in the 1950s, joined the Chinese army and was sent to Tibet for the purpose of unification of the two cultures. (Wikipedia)
Acclaimed Chinese journalist Xinran Xue retells an inspirational story of perseverance about a mother who lived in a public restroom for 28 years, but still managed to send her two children to the top universities in China with no government assistance. "Real China is made by Chinese mothers and grandmothers, from each individual family's hard work," says Xinran.
China Witness: Voices from a Silent Generation
While the West has commonly viewed the last one hundred years in China through the single narrative lens of Mao's rise and rule, the experience for the Chinese themselves has been infinitely more complex. Xinran, a national celebrity and beloved figure in China who hosted a hugely popular radio show in the 1990s, traveled across China in 2005 and 2006 to gather interviews that form the true narrative of the times.
She sought out the nation's grandparents and great-grandparents, the men and women who have experienced change in the modern era firsthand, in cities and remote villages, interviewing them for the first, and perhaps the last, time.
Though many of them continue to harbor a fear of repercussions for speaking freely, they did speak with Xinran with stunning candor about their hopes, fears, and struggles, from the Long March to land reform, from Mao to marriage, from revolution to Westernization.
'China Witness' gives us the essence of modern China a portrait intimate, nuanced, and revelatory.
BBC - China in the next 60 years: Author Xinran Xue
Who is The Mothers’ Bridge of Love?
Mothers’ Bridge of Love is a charity to set up a bridge between China and the world; primarily for British families, who have adopted children from China, who want to learn more about the culture their children come from and share experiences with other families who’ve adopted children from China.
It was founded by Xinran who is a mother, of Panpan, an author, of books including ‘The Good Women of China’ ‘Sky Burial’ and ‘Message from an Unknown Chinese Mother’ (which focuses on stories of Chinese mothers who have lost their daughters, and includes details of how to donate to MBL). She is also a columnist of The Guardian newspaper (G2); and freelance adviser of TV & Publishing House. Her aim for this project was to build a “mothers’ bridge of love” to show Chinese orphans how much a mother’s love means to them, no matter where the love comes from, be it birth or adoptive mother, from China or rest of the world.
She spent eight months researching the possibility and looking for partners for the project and as of 19 August 2004, The Mothers’ bridge Bridge of Love has been entered into the Central Register of the Charity Commission for England and Wales in the United Kingdom.
Who does it help?
In China many Chinese girls become orphans. This arises because of three main reasons: (1) According to the Chinese traditional way of thinking, only boys can be part of the family tree to succeed the family business and inherit the family fortune;
- The “single-child” policy started in 1981 and has been enforced mainly in the eastern part of China, especially in the big cities.
- Since 1992, many young people have adopted a “western life” style, including pre-marital sex or co-habitation without being married. This behaviour is still ‘forbidden’ to many Chinese today for historical and cultural reasons. So it is still deemed to be ‘immoral’ for people to have children before marriage.
The end of 2003 saw around 55,000 western families that had adopted Chinese children, the majority being girls.
MBL has worked with adoptive families from 25 countries, including Argentina, Austria, Australia, Belgium, Brazil, Canada, Chile, Cyprus, Denmark, Finland, France, Germany, Greece, Holland, Ireland, Italy, Monaco, New Zealand, Norway, Portugal, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, the United Kingdom and the United States.
It promotes cultural awareness and understanding of the Chinese culture among people who live in the Western world, strives to aid the cultural differences between the adoptive parents and the adopted Chinese children – to help their children find their cultural roots and heritage – and supports projects that help disadvantaged children in China.
Women in China
Graeme has been using ChinesePod since 2007
"I highly recommend ChinesePod, I haven't found any Online teaching programmes that come close."
Set in Zanzibar in 1910, it is the story of two people from different worlds falling in love. Susan immerses herself in Zanzibar. Asim falls in love with this woman from the nation that killed his wife. Susan is a spy. Asim is the chief advisor to the Sultan of Zanzibar. Germany and France are holding secret negotiations to form a Pan European alliance, which would isolate Britain and destroy her power. Susan and Asim are caught up in all this and their love is finally dashed on the cold, hard reality of international high politics.
Available on Amazon's Kindle $4.99 - Over 400 Pages
Chapter One
Zanzibar
'A maharaja’s ruby cast on a Persian carpet by the blackest of hands'
Their souls danced, honouring his promise.
The ancient dhow stirred in the soft morning breeze. Like a sleepy lion, it began to move through the water, snuffling about the other boats on the harbour; some scurrying, some at anchor, some darting before a brief gust of wind. The lateen sails a bustling panorama of blood-red and sun-bleached white.
Aft, the woman's eyes searched the skyline, drinking in the architecture of Stone Town, the heart of Zanzibar; its jagged, cluttered silhouette so familiar, so much a part of her soul.
Abruptly, her eyes ceased their restless searching, jagged by an invisible hook, transfixed by the grand buildings on the northern shore, Beit-al-Ajaib, the House of Wonders, Palace to the great Sultan of Zanzibar. The distinctive architecture captured in the tropical light: coconut white outlined by contrasting shadow plays of pepper black.
A smile, ever so slight, started to play on the edge of her mouth then disappeared. A memory that should have been fond instantly turned to sharp unbearable pain. Her eyes hardened and moved on.
Without warning the captain threw the rudder over. Stumbling, the woman barked her shin on a wooden box, a rough-hewn coffin. She recoiled, knocking over an untidy stack of cane baskets. Imprisoned in the baskets, rusty cockerels, their scruffy heads straining through the latticework, snapped at her, cried out to her; their raucous din overwhelming her, drowning her.
Dimly, through the fog of noise, the strident swearing of the sailors in Kiswahili seeped into her conscious. Understanding, she smiled mirthlessly.
The coffin had been carelessly stowed, a chore, rather than a labour of respect or love.
London 1910
“Hello, who are you? I am Oliver, is Edward at home?”
The words were spoken by a tall, impeccably dressed young man as he rushed into Edward’s flat shaking off surplus water and calling for whisky while shoving his umbrella into a stand. It was a blustery, grey, bitterly cold February afternoon in the heart of London. He brushed a curl of soft auburn hair from his forehead and smiled charmingly.
Susan laughed, her hazel eyes dancing with the exhilaration of the new. “Yes, he is having a bath. I think he is trying to get warm. I’m Susan, Susan Carey, his sister.”
“Ahhh yes, from Australia. How do you do?” said Sir Oliver, smiling broadly and offering his hand. He noticed the laughter in her eyes, and the depth, particularly the depth, intensified by jade flecks that made them striking and alluring. “So, you have arrived, good trip I trust.”
“I am very well thank you, and yes, it was a good trip,” replied Susan.
He laughed and glanced at the sitting room, “whisky?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, please come in…….. that was silly of me, after all, it is your flat.”
Oliver smiled and gestured for Susan to lead the way. He followed her into the room, and after helping himself to a generous portion of whisky, walked over to the fire.
Shortly after, Edward, wrapped in a huge ruby-coloured dressing gown and wiping soap from his ear strode into the room. He was of similar age to Oliver, late twenties, well built, if slightly podgy, with dark auburn hair and a full moustache. Susan looked up and smiled to herself, she could see now where he had picked up some of his new mannerisms.
“Thought I could hear voices. I see you two have met, no need for introductions then.”
As he was speaking, Edward walked to the side table and grabbed a whisky decanter by the neck. He glanced at Oliver who nodded. A long finger snaked into one of the tumblers followed by the distinctive clink of crystal. He swept the decanter off the table and carried it to where Oliver was sitting. After pouring the whisky, he sank into a lounge chair and sipped from his glass, enjoying the warm glow as it spread through his body.
Suddenly he sat up exclaiming, “Sorry sis, would you like something to drink?”
“Kind of you to remember, but no thank you, and yes, Oliver has already inquired.”
Edward nodded and sank back into his lounge chair.
They chatted, tentatively at first, getting to know one another. Edward had not seen Susan for two years and was unsure how his sister would take his new relationship. Oliver was intrigued by Susan. An attractive, self-assured young lady of high intelligence with a degree was a rare find. And, as fate would have it, she was also a trained and experienced teacher. He suggested a picnic at Oxford, which was met with ready acquiescence. Arrangements were made for the following Sunday.
“I’ll see if the Rolls is available,” mused Oliver. “Must ring father, haven’t spoken to him in ages.”
Oliver, Sir Oliver Marchmaine, was an unaffected young man of intense intelligence who saw life as a great adventure to be lived to the full. He was also unyieldingly loyal to his country, England, which is why he had joined Military Intelligence on leaving Oxford.
It was 1910 and Europe was stirring. It was a time full of interest, intrigue and danger. The European chessboard was becoming increasingly complex, the moves more subtle. A time when an unexpected move or feint could have profound consequences.
Regaining her balance, the woman’s eyes were drawn, hesitantly at first, resisting back to Beit-al-Ajaib. She wondered if it was still the same. Still the same centre of power and intrigue that had been so much a part of her life all those years before; that had defined her life.
She remembered those first few moments, remembered standing in the foyer of the palace, .………… remembered the breathtakingly beautiful Persian tapestry ........
The sea breeze stirred her clothes. She smiled a little sadly, and in her mind the tapestry gently swayed. Two small apparitions ran giggling up the stairs: two small exquisitely rich burkas disappearing along the first floor landing. Childish squeals of mischief and joy left in the air.......
“Move to seaward, you accused of Allah! Move!”
Her thoughts were clawed back to the dhow, the captain crashing the tiller over to avoid another boat on the crowded harbour. The woman instinctively ducked her head to avoid the heavy boom as it swung over her, the rusty cockerels squawked their raucous indignation, their heads straining through the latticework, relentless.
The collision avoided, the dhow continued on its way. The cacophony dying down to the occasional command by the captain or the cry of a seagull.
The woman's thoughts returned to Beit-al-Ajaib
…………. laughing and giggling, girls of seven or eight. A door on the first floor slammed and all sounds of them disappeared. Silence. The woman smiled. She could see herself, a young woman, dressed plainly, unselfconsciously, her sexuality tantalisingly just out of reach, hidden beneath the thin veil of her clothing. She remembered standing alone in the foyer, looking around, perplexed. Asim came through a door to the left of the tapestry.
“Salaam.”
The woman started and looked around. Then, realising, was cold again. Alone again. Alone, rocking to and fro to the rythm of the sea. Alone, beside a rough-hewn coffin.
Now Available on Amazon's Kindle $4.99 - Over 400 Pages
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