Where she's from
We saw quite a few Chinese tourists in Europe. Not the group tours of The New Yorker, but mostly multi-generational families or college-aged backpackers we would meet sitting near us on the trains. We would greet them politely in Mandarin if they made an obvious comment about the cuteness of one of the kids. It was always amusing to different degrees that in Europe they bumped into Americans who lived in their home country.
The ensuing small-talk took mostly the same course, where in China we lived, how long, and whether our younger child was actually born in China. I explained that she was born in Hong Kong since we lived then in Southern China, but she like the rest of us kept a Meiguo de Hujiao. The kids contributed a few bits, too, establishing that they at least had some familiarity with the language. One time a woman asked Brigid in Chinese if she were American. Brigid only shook her head no. Surprised, she asked Brigid if she were Chinese, which would have been understandable and funny. Again, no. I repeated the two questions, first in Mandarin and then in English, each time getting no for an answer.
"Okay, then where are we from?" I asked, seriously doubting that she understood the question.
"We're from Outside," she answered in English.
In Mandarin, the word for any foreigner is waiguoren, literally Outside-Country-Person. Some days, even just walking around Changping, an area small enough that I would think everyone who lives here has already seen us and gotten used to the increasing number of non-Chinese living out here, we hear it many, many times a day.
"Look; they are foreigners."
"Say hello to the little foreign friend."
"Foreigner!"
Even though Brigid has surely heard me say, "Women shi Meiguoren" hundreds of times, she still has picked up on what we are called. Even so early in her life, she surely must feel it.
Outside. We are from Outside.
The ensuing small-talk took mostly the same course, where in China we lived, how long, and whether our younger child was actually born in China. I explained that she was born in Hong Kong since we lived then in Southern China, but she like the rest of us kept a Meiguo de Hujiao. The kids contributed a few bits, too, establishing that they at least had some familiarity with the language. One time a woman asked Brigid in Chinese if she were American. Brigid only shook her head no. Surprised, she asked Brigid if she were Chinese, which would have been understandable and funny. Again, no. I repeated the two questions, first in Mandarin and then in English, each time getting no for an answer.
"Okay, then where are we from?" I asked, seriously doubting that she understood the question.
"We're from Outside," she answered in English.
In Mandarin, the word for any foreigner is waiguoren, literally Outside-Country-Person. Some days, even just walking around Changping, an area small enough that I would think everyone who lives here has already seen us and gotten used to the increasing number of non-Chinese living out here, we hear it many, many times a day.
"Look; they are foreigners."
"Say hello to the little foreign friend."
"Foreigner!"
Even though Brigid has surely heard me say, "Women shi Meiguoren" hundreds of times, she still has picked up on what we are called. Even so early in her life, she surely must feel it.
Outside. We are from Outside.
Comments
Joe: Since we lived in South China for a few years first and were called "Ghosts" for a while, waiguoren sounded to my ears a step up. However we do still get laowai, which actually does cause me to bristle, like tonight at WalMart when someone turned around and snarled it at her male companion.
But I think you are on to something about her lack of sense of place. Her entire life has been a shifting, neither here nor there.
Must file this notion away for her inevitable therapy.
Melanie: Thank you :-)