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Our 2006 Scottish Dancing Troup before a performance at Hong Qi Hui Tang (Red Flag Hall)
This year's graduation show was scheduled to take place at Red Flag Hall and, having decided to postpone the follow-up trip to Ninger by one day, we were getting quite excited about what music and dance extravaganza lay in store. In fact, the forthcoming evening out was used to persuade Edie to drink up her Dioralyte. She needn't have bothered, as it turns out the show has been and gone. Despite WEEKS of asking Chen Yong about the date [and him saying "Sunday the 20th of June"], no-one informed us of the date change. The fact is, it was an 'invitation only' event this year and we weren't invited. How easy it would have been for someone to say, "oh, sorry, didn't you know, it's invitation only and I'm afraid you won't be able to come" instead of stringing us along.

This is the 'face-saving' way, of course, and it's something I have got used to though it still leaves me flabergasted when it happens. The question remains, was anyone going to call us and say, "Don't go to Red Flag Square this evening, despite me telling you the show was on"? How about: "Don't bother preparing your performance because you won't actually be there"? That's right, we were supposed to be presenting a Simao slideshow to music, until yesterday, when we happened to decide to make it a separate event. Thank goodness we changed our mind. It seems that keeping quiet and pretending a problem doesn't exist is often preferable, here, to acknowledging the pink elephant that is staring everyone in the face. To me, more 'face' is lost by apparently 'misleading' [I accept this perspective is culturally relative] someone or showing lack of responsibility than by being open and upfront. Many people have said to me over the years that Simao must be a much easier placement than others in China, or other parts of the world. In fact, it's still China and I'm still an international volunteer wading through cultural complexities and quandries in order to get my work done. The deeper one tries to go, the harder it can become. I just haven't given up yet and I may, finally, be managing to let some things just wash over me and be forgiving of this new (and sometimes challenging, to me) way of doing things. What's certain is that I still have so much to learn about Chinese culture.
 
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The invalid
Don't worry, Edie was exaggerating her misery for effect. Before and after the photo she was giggling, despite spending the morning puking and running to the toilet. The likelihood is she has a little bug, as the rest of us are fine. Having said that, I'm beginning to feel a little nauseous. Not great timing, as I head off on a middle school follow-up trip tomorrow and still have a fair bit of prep to do. That's life. The good news is that by early afternoon Edie was champing at the bit to get out and join Freda, Edie and Doudou the dog in the sand pit. I'm always bowled over by how resilient children are in dealing with illness and bouncing back.

 
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It's banquet season as the Grade 3 students graduate and college departments host farewell dinners. No gowns and certificates, just a few bottles of bai jiu (rice brandy) per table and a couple of cigarettes for the boys. Hou Wanxia, Sue, Liao Xinli and I attended the Science department banquet on Thursday evening, followed by the Maths meal on Friday evening, in the same restaurant. EAF came too and joined in the toasting. Freda's comment: "The food wasn't very nice because it was all meat. I like meat, but not that meat [eels, ducks and beaks and dried-out spicy sausage] and it was too noisy." The irony is that the banquets' lack of green vegetables and rice are a gesture of respect for the guests - a demonstration of wealth and abundance. 

In fact, I enjoyed the experiences - toasting all the students and teachers, table by table, and feeling part of the College community. The Maths invitation was even more poignant as the English Department, dining at the neighbouring restaurant, had chosen to exclude us. This didn't stop Ali gate-crashing their party after the meal to congratulate our students.  Meantime I swallowed the bitter truth that having made my bed, so to speak, I had to lie in it. It's a long and sad story as to why Ms Fu, the current Dean of English, and I don't get along. She represents 'old school' methods and Mao-inspired derision of foreigners. The increasing interest in, and support of, my work here has merely fuelled her fire, especially since PIE, and all the benefits that came with it, became publically detached from the English Department. That's life. When I reflect on the progress the TDC has made and the partnerships we have developed with other College departments, the Education Bureau and middle schools, I know that it was worth it.
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As we returned to the College I bumped into the ex vice headmaster of Mojiang's Baliu Middle School, to whom FISHfund donated a generator a few years ago. He is now headmaster of Longba Middle School. I asked him if he is happy in his new job. He replied: "Yes. Baliu was 110 km away, Longba is 30." He was referring to the distance not from Simao, but from Mojiang, the county seat. The figure isn't relevant for commuting or weekends away. It's more a symbol of remoteness, isolation, distance from the rest of the world. I asked where his family was: "Oh, they're in Longba too" he replied, but this seemed of less significance! It was lovely to bump into an old acquaintance, giving another sense of belonging.
 
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Zongzi
This time every year (the 5th day of the 5th lunar month) I always wonder "why is the Dragon Boat Festival called this?" In 5 years I've never spotted a Dragon Boat on Ximahe Lake. Instead, down here in Simao people do all the other DBF things: eat zongzi, drink root soup, and hang up haocao.

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Roots

Why eat zongzi? It's a long story, and it's late at night here, but the general gist is that (in the story) these reed packets of sticky rice were thrown into the water to distract the fish from eating the body of some (popular) chap who had drowned. The roots are traditionally eaten on this day as a medicine tonic soup. And the haocao? That's a couple of pieces of long grass (one a reed, the other a fragrant smelling herb) hung on the front door as a good luck charm. Still no Dragon Boats though - maybe next year.


 
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Dougal's grave.
A very, very sad thing happened today. Dougal died and is now lying dead, underground, by the running track. We were about to go out to play when Edie announced that Dougal was dead. When I heard I went to see him then hid in my room and cried for about ten minutes before we went down to bury him. It was a sad moment.

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[Lesley adds] Edie has been caring for Dougal for the last few days, while Freda was staying at Lao Yang's house. She's been a pillar of strength during his demise, mashing up food, giving him Calpol, letting him snuggle on her lap. We were waiting for him to die, in fact, though we didn't know how long it would take. By this morning he could barely walk but dragged himself out of his bed for a final goodbye. He was a tough wee character. In true Chinese Buddhist style, Edie made a small book and wrote Dougal's name in it, to burn at his graveside. The children struggled to light the book and had to use the frisbie as a wind-break.

The other small grave, in the foreground, is where Edie buried "Goldie", the goldfish that died two days ago. As Freda said after their small ceremony,  "Everything is breaking now mum, even our pets". As the time for us to leave approaches, it's true that many of our household things are falling apart. Perhaps it really is time to leave.
 
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This boy, Zhang Zihan, looks like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth but that's only when he's got his angel face on for Granny. We refer to him as "monster child", though not to his face of course. It's also an improvement on the first name we had for him. That might seem harsh but little Zhang does enjoy behaving like a little monster. Nevertheless, we take every effort to include him, should he behave himself - that is, not beating up students, breaking ducks' legs [see distorted right leg of this poor victim], starving dogs, using tortoises as flying machines or being foul-mouthed. As a result of a one-month LEAF family socialisation programme he's better behaved in our company and even apologised to a student today for hitting her, just so that I would answer his question. There's not much we can do for the dog and duck though. This quacker's brother went in the pot last week and, even though it insists on following him around like a surrogate sibling, it's got a pretty miserable life as his pet. We keep him well away from Jackson Rabbit.

I'd say there's a very different attitude to animals here, by and large. As Mr Affo (the owner of the fluffy white dog called Affo (Arthur)) said: "I think about my animal's feelings but other people don't care about that." Freda, Lao Yang and Edie were joined by a gang of small children at the pond today. They were all excited to have found a small, wild mouse. Freda and Edie squatted down to watch it while the other children were shouting, "Deat it to death" [in Chinese]. Despite Freda's efforts to rescue the little creature, it was dead within five minutes, bashed to death by the butt of a plastic machine gun.  

 
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Naping preparing her book cover.
Edie and I might not have ventured far from home today but we've been very busy. After taking Jackson out for some grass and flowers on the football pitch we returned home for some book-binding and cross-stitch. We met my Chinese teacher, Guo Naping, on the way and she joined us for some arts and crafts. She was a quick learner and went home with three small books, as well as a needle injury.

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Jackson keeping the football pitch well-trimmed.
 
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Mid-shopping trip to Wuyi market, Paul's mind couldn't help wandering back to those bachelor days when all he had to carry was a camera, bottle of water and some loose change. Yesterday he found himself fully loaded-up with handmade wicker goods to take back to the city. Paul and Jiajia drove down to visit us within days of Paul passing his   Chinese driving exam for the entertaining details. Well, it might be less entertaining if one actually had to take the exam, which is riddled with confusing questions and illogical answers. It's a credit to Paul's patience, perseverence and clever study methods that he managed to pass. Most people pay someone (who already has their license, thus survived the system themselves) to take it for them.

We've had great fun these days - walking, chatting, eating, shopping - and were sad to see Paul and Jiajia drive off yesterday afternoon. It's the first time in China we've had friends arrive and leave by car. It reminded me of a distant life I used to have, when I felt like an independent adult.

The house seems quiet now, even more so because Freda's been at Lao Yang's house for a couple of days and Ali's gone walkabout in Jinggu County.

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Edie got fed up of waiting for Jiajia and Lesley in the fabric shop and found a corner to have a little nap.
 
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Patches started rolling in this week for my Simao blanket. Nita helped me make a poster to distribute around the College, inviting anybody who can knit to contribute one patch - any shape, size or colour, preferably using up their own wool remnants. As we were returning home last night our second floor neighbour, a retired teacher from Simao No 1 Middle School, popped out of her house with this red patch and an ethnic bag for Freda and Edie (early leaving presents). My aim is to have a blanket big enough to wrap myself in by the time we leave Simao. The colourful blanket will represent all my friends, students and colleagues from my time here. It also includes wool from many parts of China and patches I have knitted myself while travelling. The only problem is the blanket is already very heavy and looks like it will need my whole 20-kilo luggage allowance to get it home.

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We received a postcard from my parents the other day, all the way from St. Kilda, a remote island off the north-west coast of Scotland. It brought a lump to my throat to look at the faces in this group portrait of the island scoolmaster, George Murray, and his pupils taken in 1886. After years of living in China, to see the blond (or red?) hair, these so-Scottish faces earnestly looking at the camera brought on a wave of homesickness. The postcard, with its unique St.Kilda puffin franking, was posted in the NTS shop on the island and subsequently helicoptered into the mail system at Benbecula. Amazingly it only took a few days (rather than weeks) to reach us here in SW China. In the past, the inhabitants of St. Kilda employed a a far more hit-and-miss method of sending messages to the outside world - the famous St. Kilda mailboat. This was a watertight container attached to a sheepskin bladder, launched into the ocean whenever the wind blew from the NW. Amazingly, 2/3 of these actually turned up on the mainland.

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The St. Kilda archpelago is situated 64 kilometres (40 mi) west-northwest of North Uist and is the most remote of Scotland's Outer Hebridean Islands, in the North Atlantic Ocean. St Kilda was permanently inhabited for at least two millennia though the entire population was evacuated in 1930. Currently, the only residents are military personnel. Living on the islands in the past was a punishing experience. The residents' diet consisted mainly of seabirds - gannets, puffins and fulmars are abundant - (and their eggs) supplemented by barley and potatoes. Growing these crops in the harsh climate was bad enough, but getting hold of the birds was even more tricky, and often involved climbing the sheer cliffs on which they nested. St Kilda was made a World Heritage Site in 1986, and is one of the few in the world to be granted this status on both natural and cultural grounds.