Through the Looking Glass

This week we had the opportunity to do what I have wanted to do for the last 3 ½ years. I have been waiting for the perfect moment, where my kids are old enough, the weather is good enough, our schedule is free enough, and I have a good enough friend to feel comfortable imposing myself out into the rural village life of China.

My dear sweet friend Sunny invited us to visit her family’s farm, about a 3 hour drive away into west of our province. We had planned to go in the spring, but things didn’t work out. So when she asked again for this October holiday I was just dying to go. We decided on a 2 day one night visit because it was long enough to enjoy ourselves, but short enough to not be too much of a burden to her wonderful parents.

After getting off the highway, we followed Sunny through winding roads full of bicycles and tractors, out into the countryside. We drove into her village and parked right in front of the chicken coop. The village was set up with homes in rows, about 3 families to each row of homes. Walking through the front door, you enter into an open air courtyard which is the center of the home. The rooms of the home all open out into this courtyard. To the right was an enclosed bathroom (which had a real toilet!!!!!!), followed by a water hose area where they washed dishes and produce outside on the courtyard floor. This was next to the enclosed pig pen, housing 3 young pigs. After this came the chicken and dog’s houses, and then began the string of 2 bedrooms and a living room, followed by a kitchen, and a 3rd bedroom. This is quite a large farmhouse from what I understand. All of the floors and walls are unfinished concrete. Aside from a few photos of the grandchildren hung in the living room, it is otherwise undecorated. It is obvious that everything in this home is for a useful purpose. The beds are hard plywood covered by a bamboo matt and contain just a pillow filled with beans.

The kitchen was by far my favorite room of the house. The cooking surface had large pots built into it and beneath it was the spot for the fire. Since this home originally had no electricity or gas capabilities, they have always cooked by stoking the fire with old corn husks and dried out corn stalks. The built in wok on the counter was the biggest thing I have ever seen. It could cook about 20 manto (steamed bread) or 200 jiaozi at one time. As someone who likes cooking for a crowd, I just loved it! I want one. I am told the fire from the fire pits is set up to send the smoke and heat to warm the bed in the adjacent room.

The simplicity of their lifestyle and the warmth of their hospitality won us over immediately. My children were ushered right in to feed the pigs, visit the chickens, and pet the dogs. We were served a huge lunch of freshly picked vegetables and newly prepared jiaozi. After stuffing us full of food, they ushered us on a hike through the fields to see all the different crops they farm. We saw sweet potatoes, peanuts, cotton, green beans, lettuce, eggplant, onions, carrots, peppers, chili peppers, broccoli, tomatoes, corn, and wheat. The list of produce seemed endless. We hiked to a stream where Sunny’s brother taught the kids how to find and catch tiny crabs. Continuing on we came to a damn, where we lowered in square nets attached to a fishing pole and waited for them to fill with tiny fish. Then the kids caught the fish out with their bare hands, squealing as the fish flopped about and delivering them into a bucket of water. Once our buckets were full we hiked on into the field, through the forest, and across the back of the pond. Along the way he would explain what berries could be eaten and what couldn’t, what types of plants and seeds we were finding, and what the different crops were that we passed. We finally finished back at the house where the kids fed their catch to the dogs and the chickens. It was some of the most fun my children have ever had. Following another huge and fresh farm dinner, we gazed at the blanket of stars, and fell exhaustedly off to sleep.

The next morning my kids flew out of bed, excited to feed all of the animals and help collect some of the produce, we picked giant squash and collected pomegranates, and snow peas, and tomatoes from their homes. My children loved the freedom of running up and down the dirt roads of the village with the other children. I loved the opportunity to learn so much of the history of my friend’s life. Her extremely poor childhood, without electricity, running water, heat, or plumbing so largely contrasts with the life she lives now. But I can see why she eagerly brings her children back as often as she can and speaks with so much love of her village home. It’s hardly a romantic lifestyle. The labor is hard and unending. The money is in short supply. Almost all of these farmers are aging now, with no one to replace them. It’s not the life they wanted for their children so they sacrificed hard and sent their children off to the cities to make better lives. But there is a deep charm in the simplicity of their lives, the closeness of their community, their clear blue skies and fresh food. I can see why so many of my friends talk with love in their eyes of their simple village beginnings.

Differences in culture, lifestyles, and communication just fascinate me. I love how we as humans are fundamentally all the same, but yet so very very different all at the same time. I was so thankful for my city bred children to get a glimpse of the simplicity of the country and the joys of life without so many trappings. I feel humbled to have been granted a short journey through the looking glass into the history of my sweet friend and her wonderful family. God made a breathtaking world full of beautiful creation and wonderful people. The design was perfect. We have all marred it by our selfishness but we can’t erase it. It’s the written all over nature and is hidden in the face of every person we meet; the image of the invisible God. I think that’s why I love looking into other worlds; different nationalities, customs, cultures, and landscapes. It’s an endless treasure hunt for the mark of beauty left by the author of beauty himself.