Wednesday, 27 December 2017

In Quest of Old China

The edge was high and in accordance with convention, I crossed it by lifting my left foot while Tim, my guide, lifted his right. We felt the uneven exposed floor under our feet as we went into the dim room.
The sun was glimmering unequivocally outside, striking through the rooftop gaps, similar to a beam of death indicating us obscured lines of scattered furniture. There was very little to see.
The house looked purge aside from a cooker, some sort of closet with a blend of very much utilized dish and periodic articles of clothing. From the corner, simply behind the cooker we heard a trembling "NJIHAO" and our first intuition was to keep running retreat from the house we had entered uninvited. We were in journey of old Chinese life which was vanishing quick and were wanting to get "that" photograph here in the desperate angling town close to the mainstream vacationer town of China. We didn't hope to perceive any individuals.

"Njihao" answered Tim conciliatory.

And after that we saw her, the old woman with a stick, in a blue Mao Tze Tung uniform, sitting on a carefully assembled tripod seat, the same as my granddad used to make back in Bosnia. She was 86, relatively visually impaired and handicapped. She has a little girl in Beijing and granddaughter in Shanghai who is hitched and expecting a youngster which she is bouncing to be a kid.

"Enough of young ladies in our family!" she announced and ricocheted the stick on the earth floor.

From her left pocket she pulled worn photographs of cheerful ladies with gigantic grins.

"They come here once at regular intervals. It's costly and they need to buckle down. My girl is working in the plant in Beijing however my granddaughter is responsible for a major lodging". Furthermore, she broke an extremely glad toothless grin took after by solid hack.

I turned my head towards the entryway concealing my tears. Do I offer to clean the house? That is the thing that I consequently do on visits to my grandparents. Be that as it may, at that point we were amidst China and this place could be barely called a house. Do we call her little girl and granddaughter and berate them for leaving this 86-year-old all alone? In any case, at that point I am certain they know about that and the measure of cash they are making can't cover their blame.

"What does she eat?"

"Villagers bring nourishment for her."

"Would we be able to do anything for her?"

Tim shrugged pitifully, so familiar with China and her 21st Century where fast advance leaves its past.

All of a sudden I pulled all the cash I had in my wallet and push it at the deserted old woman without intuition where she would spend it or on what. I simply needed to feel that I had accomplished something. She kissed my hand which influenced me to cry significantly more, and ran out without saying farewell to her.

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