Oh– once last thing. We got in the taxi today and Mr. Friendly Taxi Driver With No Teeth knew only three English words. It went something like this:

Taxi Man: Ni Hao!

Amanda: Ni Hao.

Taxi Man: Ni guo lai shenme? (where you from?)

Amanda: Mei Guo (America)

Taxi Man: U.S.A!

Amanda: Dui ba. (right)

Taxi Man: U.S.A. OBAMA!

Us in unison: Obama Bu Hao! (bad)

Taxi Man: Bu Xi huan? (don’t like?)

Us in unison: Bu Xi Huan! (don’t like)

Taxi Man: Xi Huan Bush?

Us: Laughter 

A very comical exchange that made me very nervous because the driver could not possibly be watching the road while he is staring in the mirror at us the whole time. Just another funny moment in China. 

*Disclaimer: My apologies to the Democratic party members who may be reading this post. To be truthful, I am really the most unpolitical person you will ever meet, but thought it would be interesting to egg the taxi driver on a bit. But….I didn’t vote Obama. (no applause needed)

P.S. Please do not respond with political comments, this was for entertainment purposes only.

Day three in China and of course, nothing goes smoothly here. For weeks (months, maybe?) I have had all the arrangements made with Lucy for her to accompany me on the road trip to the city to see Xiao Gou, and act as a translator and guide for us. She is the only one who has communicated with the orphanage directors and has paved the way for me to come. Most importantly to me, I also planned to use her to explain to Xiao Gou why I left, and that she has many people interested in helping her and that we’ll be here to assist her in the future.  

Today Lucy sent me an email to tell me she cannot go along with me but instead will meet me there. Will she show? I am not confident, but at this point it is my only option. Now we must take a long road trip with a driver that does not speak any English and who we have never met. 

Oh well, I knew coming into this that I would meet snags along the way. That is just China. Whatever happens, we’ll make do. If I have to, I’ll show up at whatever is the ‘gathering’ place for young college aged kids near Xiao Gou and find one who speaks great English and has a kind heart–and pay them to be my friend.

Jetlag has seriously kicked my tail. Today I woke up very sick with a slamming headache and nausea. It has finally faded mostly away but this morning I actually doubted everything—I thought who am I to try to take on something this big? Something this complicated, confusing, dangerous and chaotic? But I am now back to myself, have a better attitude and am ready to roll. We’ll leave in a few minutes for our old home town, and I hope to accomplish a lot there.

Yesterday was a great mother/daughter day for us. I wanted it to be one day that was all about Amanda. So we walked around taking photos, ate lunch, shopped a bit and got a massage. We had a moment of hilarity in the spa salon– it was so dark we were stumbling around trying to get to the appropriate rooms. One spa lady kept peering around corners to sneak a peek at us and Amanda was looking right at her one time when the lady just fell out of sight. Literally—it was dark and she missed a step and just fell. Maybe not so funny without the visual, I guess you had to be there. Amanda laughed and laughed while I hushed her to keep quiet.  And don’t worry–the lady was fine. Amanda really enjoyed her massage and that is good, because I told her it is her last one!

We also went to Starbucks and a Chinese guy waited outside the door for 45 minutes just so he could talk to us. I saw him standing out there but didn’t know he wanted us until we stepped out. He spoke only Mandarin and we did really well communicating with him. His wish was to exchange emails and phone numbers so that he could work on his English. He was very friendly, and we did give him our email address. I am not totally crazy, though, as I declined to answer him when he asked where we were staying. He invited us to lunch for a Chinese meal (maybe in his home?) when we return to Shanghai next week. We told him maybe, but we know we won’t go. That would be awkward and possibly a bit dangerous. I asked him if he had a Tai Tai (Mrs) and he laughed and replied no. I asked him how old he was and when he answered 30, I showed mock shock and asked him, “Why no tai tai?”. He went into a lengthy explanation, something about needing a house first, etc.. I do remember in the Chinese culture that usually the boyfriend will get a good job then a house (apartment) before proposing. I’ll admit, I love that approach!

We finally were able to extract ourselves after about half an hour. He was really nice and it was a great cultural moment for Amanda to remember. Seeking out a school in the states that has a Chinese language program has really paid off. Amanda’s Mandarin skills are excellent, much better than mine. However, there were a few things that I caught and had to explain to her. It’s amazing how so much of the what we learned has come back to us now that we are in China. Though some words I knew very well have totally slipped my mind–it’s like having a word on the tip of your tongue but not able to grasp it. Amanda and I have learned different situational vocabulary words, mine being more practical in just every day use.  She is much better at comprehension, my ears seem to have lost the ability to catch on quickly to their foreign dialects. But I can’t wait to blow her socks off at the orphanage, and since she has been showing off I can get her back.

*smile*

I’ll admit that being back in China feels surreal. It hasn’t really sunk in yet, since we got in last night we have been closed in, but we’ll see how we feel after getting out and about today. There were two Chinese boy toddlers in sight during the whole flight and memories kept flying back at me, faces I remembered, thoughts about children who suffered, and those who made me smile with their antics. I am sure this trip is going to be an emotional roller coaster for me and probably Amanda as we once again struggle to be thankful for where we are in life and try to not wish for our old life as China expats. Just being back on China soil makes me feel useful again in a way that only following your passion can make you feel. —stay tuned for more.

I would feel much better if I was taking this challenge alone and it was only my own safety to worry over.  That is not possible because Amanda would never let me leave her behind, as she has grieved leaving China for the past three years. She is now counting down until takeoff and that is all she can focus on. I know she has matured to the point that she will be an easy partner and she has a job to fulfill—to be my photographer and videographer to journal this quest. But because of my duty to protect Amanda, all of my decisions will be carefully considered. I pray that she will not get sick or hurt because unlike before when one of us was deathly ill and the company sent in a team and private jet to evacuate us out of China, this time the only resources available will be those around us that I can secure within reach and without a giant corporation pulling the strings and breaking through the red tape on our behalf.

During my daytime hours I am working through my list of items to accomplish as questions about Xiao Gou push for my attention. How will she react when we meet again? Will she remember me? Will she come to me or turn away? Does she feel that I also abandoned her? Will she be able to understand me? Will my presence improve her circumstances or cause her more problems? Will this journey ultimately end in failure? Maybe so—but I know that I cannot go on wondering if there was anything more I could do to help her. I cannot continue to ignore the voice in my ear telling me to ‘Go, Go, Go’.  If all else fails, I will at least have had the chance to talk to her and make her understand that leaving her behind when I moved back to the states was my only option, and that I continued to advocate on her behalf from afar.

In this moment when just seeing Xiao Gou’s beautiful face is a reachable goal, it is hard to focus on anything else. However, I know that there is a possibility that God is opening this door once again to lead me to a new mission. I have to keep my ears, eyes and heart open to what I am supposed to learn from this, and how I can use this opportunity to follow God’s will. Of course, my heart’s desires are to gather that child and run with her. But what if her destiny is not supposed to be wrapped up in my good intentions? I can’t imagine that she is where she is supposed to be—sitting in a deplorable orphanage with no one to genuinely love her—but who am I to change fate? I can try but if I fail, I must accept that I have done my best for her. In the past I have helped her but also failed her in some aspects, so what will this attempt bring? I don’t know and the wondering (obsessing) is not making my preparations any easier.

It still amazes me what this child has survived—an accident that ripped away her leg, her family and her dignity. One tragic second that resulted in changing this child’s life forever. When I last saw her, she was proving to me what a warrior she was to overcome so much pain, disappointment and function as if she didn’t even know the meaning of the word handicapped. She had settled in to her life and accepted her situation. Just when we thought her fate was set, a miracle happened and she was reunited with family—but then abandoned for a second time. How is she after this latest tragedy that has once again landed her in an orphanage? Is she still resilient? Or has her ability to persevere been damaged?

Two more days and we shall see.

I met Xiao Gou in the children’s hospital where she had spent over a year recuperating in the Intensive Care unit.  Elizabeth, a fellow volunteer, and I were there visiting a child who we had sponsored for heart surgery. Across the room we spotted the 4-year-old child sitting on the nurse’s desk, coloring a picture. As we began to interact with her, the nurse returned with some chicken feet for Xiao Gou to nibble on. It was obvious that the nurses had quite a fondness for the tiny girl and she for them. We could immediately understand why, as Xiao Gou began to enamor us with her sassy sense of humor and her intelligence. She was able to name colors and despite probably never having any contact with foreigners, she was very open and engaging with us.  We both wanted to know more about her and the circumstances that had brought her there.

 Through our mangled attempts at Mandarin, we were able to extract some information about her. We learned that she had been brought to the hospital by her parents after she was hit by a car. The doctors did not expect her to make it through the surgery but they worked on her anyway, amputating her leg all the way up past her buttocks.  While Xiao Gou recovered, her parents desperately worked to raise the funds needed to pay her mounting hospital bills. Her mother even appeared on a local television news piece, pleading for assistance to help her daughter.  As we left the hospital that day, I felt a sense of sadness yet relief that she at least had her parents to help her through the tragedy and her recovery.

Weeks later, we returned to the hospital intensive care unit and were surprised to find Xiao Gou’s bed empty. We asked if she had been discharged and were shocked when the nurse explained to us that Xiao Gou had been abandoned by her parents and turned over to the orphanage.

“What orphanage?” I asked? I could hardly believe the dramatic turn her life had taken.  We were told it was the orphanage that we worked in and I asked the nurse to write down Xiao Gou’s name in Chinese characters so that I could ask the director about her.

The next day with paper in hand, I skipped my usual route to the infant room and went straight to the director’s office. I showed her the name and asked her if that child was living there. She confirmed that Xiao Gou was indeed now living in the institute but her name had been changed to Sheng Rui. [When pronounced sounded similar to Sun Ray so we began to refer to her as Sunshine.] I asked to see her and though reluctant, the director led me to the one room I hoped she would not be in.

The room housed severely developmentally and mentally delayed children. In the cold, barren room were children with Down’s syndrome, dwarfism, mental retardation and other disabilities. Also residing there were mildly physically disabled children who appeared to be mentally ill but I believed had simply retreated into a shell of self-preservation in order to cope with their circumstances. The children lived in the room twenty-four hours a day with no creative or interactive diversions to engage their interest. I was disgusted to find that once again, the ancient Chinese stigma of not being outwardly perfect had resulted in Sheng Rui being sentenced to life with no parole behind the walls of injustice. 

When we arrived at the room, I could not find her tiny face in the rows of children sitting on their wooden chairs. I was distracted by the utter desperation I sensed, the repetitive rocking of some children, the staring eyes, and the sparse surroundings devoid of color and life. Director Yao pointed Sheng Rui  out to me and I was outraged by her appearance. Sheng Rui’s hair had been chopped off as short as possible and all of her sassiness and personality we had once witnessed was absent. If not for recognizing her amputated leg, I would have passed her by without recognition.

I bent down in front of Sheng Rui and attempted to interact with her. She finally lifted her head and met my eyes, showing me the absolute sorrow there that I had not seen at our last meeting. In those beautiful, dark eyes I saw there was no doubt her spirit had been crushed. I wondered what sort of abuse she had already encountered from those bigger than she in that area that reeked with a pervasive cloud of madness.

Feeling the mother lion inside me come alive, I demanded to know why Sheng Rui was not in the downstairs rooms with the other children. The director was speechless as I began ranting to her that Sheng Rui was a very intelligent little girl. We debated back and forth about her while she listened intently and by the time we left the room, I had a promise from the director that Sheng Rui would be moved downstairs and be allowed to attend the orphanage school.

There is no other way to describe what happened in those moments; other than to say that our hearts connected in a way that happens when your infant child is placed on your chest that first moment you meet. I hadn’t known her long—but I loved her. Instantly.

Sheng Rui once again became Xiao Gou and I became her biggest advocate.  Xiao Gou visited my home many times and the other children at the orphanage would tell her, “Here comes your mama” when they’d see me come through the gates. I advocated for her surgeries and most of all for her to be treated with dignity and respect. With someone to shower her with attention and concern, Xiao Gou’s sassy personality once again surfaced and she was such a joy. The day came when I had to leave China and I was too heartbroken about ending our relationship to even tell her goodbye. I regret that decision and have vowed to continue to try to help her. I know she has gone through so much since I’ve left. The latest update is that her family finally came back for her and took her far away to their hometown. Unfortunately, that didn’t last and Xiao Gou was once again abandoned and now lives in another orphanage—one that is small and doesn’t have foreign volunteers or the benefit of donations to make is an easier place. I think of Xiao Gou constantly and the memories we made. But what about now? Who sees her? Who hears her voice and advocates for her right to dignity?

Together we can continue to help her.

You or your child can join the Mei Mei Club today. “Sisters Helping Sisters”

An escalator ride, a few more direction-asking-moments and we finally (miraculously) stood in the Arrival Lobby to wait for the moment when Amanda would be reunited with her best friend from China. Since leaving the expat life in China, the girls have gotten together numerous times in various states—Michigan, Texas, South Carolina and now Georgia. Their bond is one I know will never be broken, as they share many memories from all over the map. Amanda was so excited that I could not persuade her to go for a bathroom detour, and her eyes remained fixed on the hallway the new arrivals were streaming through. Knowing the first thing she would notice was Madi’s naturally platinum hair, she relentlessly searched the crowds for each blonde and scrutinized her face before moving on to the next stranger.

As we waited and I tried to ignore the traffic-induced back spasms, I struck up a conversation with the tattooed man beside me. I saw him give directions to a lost passenger and he was obviously very familiar with the airport layout so I asked if he could direct me to where to pick up Delta luggage. I knew that as soon as the girls were together, they wouldn’t be much help and I wanted to get a head start on getting the heck out of there. We began a conversation and he told me he was picking up two young men who had been exchange students at his home a few years back. Both boys were from Austria but he really tweaked my interest when he told me that his latest student was a girl from China. He said, “Jessica came over and was very quiet and timid but when she left she was a riot—I ruined her.” At this confession, he let out a boisterous laugh and I could tell he was a fun person who genuinely cared about each student. When the two boys saw him, they both high-fived him and the joy on their faces was proof that the affection was reciprocated. I realized as they walked away that I still need to work on my judging-a-book-by-the-cover-skills because this man at first was not someone I would usually approach because of his tattoos and overall appearance, but just a few minutes with him and I would bet that he is an amazing person with a collection of interesting tales that I would be honored to hear him spin.

Behind me, I suddenly heard a “Wo yao….blah blah blah” and turned to find a group of Chinese businessmen. Watching them rock back and forth on their heels, I was suddenly taken back to memories of China and the many airport trips we survived as we scuttled to and fro on home visits and rest trips to various places. Being in the midst of all the chaos of travelers, luggage and reunions, I desperately missed my expat life and the feeling of ‘doing something different’ it constantly brought us. Now back home in the states, I’ll admit that American life feels boring and monotonous, at least compared to the five years we spent overseas. While we were told that repatriation was very difficult, no one explained that years after returning home, these feelings would remain. The only light at the end of the tunnel is that once our Amanda is out of school, we are sure we will once again become travelers and I will be able to do more to feed my passion of working with underprivileged children.

The next person to catch my eye was a fascinating woman who was slowly weaving her way to the front of the waiting crowd to compete for the best look-out spot. She appeared to be approximately mid-forties and had ash-colored dreadlocks bundled with a hair tie and falling down her back. Uncaring about the out-dated clothes she wore, she was perfectly at ease in her Jesus sandals and long shorts, covered by a scalloped-collared simple sleeve-less shirt. She wore no jewelry or make-up, but her face was so interesting that that she didn’t need it. For a fleeting moment, I wished that I could borrow her confidence and walk about without make-up and leave behind all the effort it takes to do my hair and choose my clothes each day—but at this age, I know that gift will never come. If anything, I’ll try to do more to disguise the effects of age on my quickly fading youth, as that is just who I am.

Judging by the concentrated expression that Gypsy Woman wore, and the intent way she was searching for a familiar face to come through, I expected to soon see her throw herself into the arms of her lover—and I was curious to see what sort of man he would be. Would he have dreadlocks and be wearing sandals and a shirt with a big marijuana leaf over the chest? Perhaps carrying a tattered army duffel bag that contained all of his worldly possessions? Or would he be a shined-up businessman, stopping in to see his mistress who represents the opposite of all that he is and has in his other life? As we watched for our Madi, I also kept one eye on Gypsy Woman so that I wouldn’t miss the passionate reunion.

Before long we witnessed a soldier coming through. The USO representative greeted the young man with an arm around his shoulders and a comforting word as he guided him to some unknown area. At first I searched the crowd for the man’s family but soon realized he was probably on a service-related mission and was not flying in to his home. On his face I only saw loneliness and fatigue—and I said a quick silent prayer for our troops who are facing experiences that we can only imagine.

As the soldier and the story line I had begun to weave in my head disappeared, my attention was captured by a woman dragging along her little boy. She was obviously exhausted, but so was he and I thought she could have had a little more patience with the small chap. She tugged him along behind her with one hand while dragging their luggage with the other. In the hand that was not grasped tightly by his mother, the boy dangled a ragged teddy bear. When the mother looked down and sharply said, “Hurry up!” the boy looked up at her and softly said, “I love you, Mommy.” I could tell he was trying to break through and soften her up and my heart ached for him. I thought he must have been about four years old and that prompted a sudden memory of a little girl who was only four when I met her—and the way she looked at me as if she wanted my love but was not going to lose any pride trying to get it. She was the opposite of this boy, to his innocence and naivety she was strong and had battled tragedy, molding her into a tiny warrior with battle scars evident all over her body. Yes, I was thinking of Xiao Gou and before I knew it, I was trying to swallow past the lump in my throat and blink away the unexpected tears. I had a flashback of the times I would get Xiao Gou out of the bath and put her little rosebud pajamas on her. I would pull the shirt down and she always wanted her pants pulled high over the shirt—Chinese style that looked ridiculous to me but soon became part of a night-time ritual. Then she would get 30 more minutes of playtime with her box of blocks before we’d trudge up the stairs with her on my hip and make our way to the guest room for bedtime. My little Asian angel wasn’t interested in teddy bears to bring her comfort; instead she would go to sleep wrapping the threads from the blanket around her tiny fingers. I would lie beside her until she finally closed her eyes and I would wonder what sort of nightmares she faced in the orphanage during those long nights in the cold rooms.

Lately I have been trying to guard my heart against thoughts of Xiao Gou, because it hurts so much—much more than anyone could ever understand—but with the upturned face of a little boy trying to be affectionate to his mommy, something triggered those memories to come flooding back and I took a moment to put aside the guilt of leaving her, the fear of her current circumstances, and remember the times she filled our house with the spunk of her personality.

Finally just when I thought Amanda couldn’t take the suspense of waiting any longer, a familiar petite figure broke through the crowd and Amanda was like a wound-up jumping bean beside me. “There she is! There she is!” The girls hugged each other tightly while doing a combination of a laugh/scream that represented the joy of their friendship. My mother’s heart was soaring at the happiness my daughter was feeling to see her forever best friend and I readied myself for five days of chatting, shopping, midnight laughter and all those things that make best friends click.

I can’t end this chronicle without giving you the conclusion of Gypsy Woman and her mystery man, now can I? Right before we walked away, I looked over to see the exact moment that she found her loved one in the crowd. The happiness that spread across her face made me instantly scan the crowd to see who she was zoned in on. Surprisingly and much to my romantic side’s disappointment, it was not her prince after all—but instead a woman who could have been her sister, or maybe a friend. What did peak my curiosity was the fact that as Gypsy Woman rushed around the roped area, the emotion on the other woman’s face was not the same as on Gypsy Woman’s face. There wasn’t much excitement or joy—only a look of irritation and a fumble to half-heartedly return the embrace that was heaped upon her. I felt a surge of pity for Gypsy Woman that her friend was not as excited to see her as she might have expected and I looked away from the public rejection of affection.

As we hurried along, a light bulb moment hit and my fairy tale continued as I realized that it may have been her lover after all—coming in person to break up the long distance relationship they had shared for years. With this new twist in the story, my imagination revved back up again and we headed out the door into the heavy Georgia heat and a two-hour return trip home with two happy fifteen-year-olds chatting behind me as I day-dreamed of another life on another continent with a different culture to appease my constant purpose-seeking spirit.—Kay Bratt

Xiao Gou

Kay Bratt and Jamie Mason chat about China, abandonment and the children of Silent Tears.

Listen here at PsychJourney.com.

If you take the time to listen, please leave me a comment here and tell me what you think!

Thank you for your support– Kay

Most of all, I know this for sure—I don’t want to lose the passion I cultivated and I want to use my story to inspire that fire in others to advocate for children—any and all children, China and everywhere. I need to work harder to be an example to the children in my own family so that one day they might take over and do more for the disadvantaged than our generation did. This world should not be about who gets ahead, who has the nicest car or the biggest house—We shouldn’t obsess about what colleges our kids will go to or how successful they will be if we just push them a little harder or force them to join one more sport or club. Wouldn’t this world be a better place if we concentrated more on molding the younger generation to be more compassionate to those around them, to reach out to people in their lives and give a helping hand? What if we gave equal time to community outreach that we do to organized sports and activities? The important thing to remember is that when the children become adults and find their passion, they will find their peace.