Tag Archives: humour

An Orange, 3 Mandarins, and 2 Sesame Candies

20 Feb

An orange, 3 mandarins, 2 sesame seed candies, 2 mango candies, 1 Dairy Milk bar, 1 yogurt drink pack, an apple, many cookies, 2 chocolate wafers, yaoyao rides –colourful, musical, electronic animal rides- and many more things that I can’t even recall, have been gifted to Aarav – my 19 month old son – mostly by ayis(aunties) and sometimes by shūshus(uncles). Ayis often say how cute he is and give him something from their bag, to show their love.

I took their words seriously. My son must be an outstanding and beautiful little guy. So, wherever we went, I kept collecting the goodies and saying thanks for such wonderful comments. Hence, I was looking forward to such compliments and brief talks, when we went on a short trip to Hong Kong and Australia; but not a single person stopped by our side to flatter my boy. Was it the rain in Hong Kong or the hot summer in Australia?

I was really becoming uneasy with all of this. In a Melbourne elevator, we met a Shūshu from Beijing. He smiled when he saw my son and took out a strawberry milk pack from his bag. He gave it to Aarav and said he is very “kě’ài” – the Chinese word for cute.

I finally calmed down and told myself that my son is still kě’ài and I should not worry at all. Back in Chengdu, the ayis and shūshus continue to make him feel special by showing their affection.

After giving birth to my son in India, when I joined my husband in Chengdu, I was really worried about how well I would do? As it is my first experience as a mom, I read a lot about raising a child. I also had long chats with my sisters, my mother and my friends back-home. But when it comes to local conditions and survival strategies, then my good friends in Chengdu have been a great guide to me. However, I never realized that I would get great advice and tips from nǎinais – meaning grandmothers – who are total strangers to me.

When I am out with my son, nǎinais often hold him. In the summer time I receive suggestions like, “He weighs good. But he is red, so give him much more fluid and try to take him out without a diaper because it is very hot.” They would check if he had his meals on time and what his favorite foods are. They do not like the idea of Aarav being a vegetarian little guy. They would strongly suggest that meat is a very important source of protein and that he needs it very much at this growing stage. But they do not insist.

Being out with my son in Chengdu and interacting with ayis, shūshus, and nǎinais is very interesting. I get a good chance to see others’ perspective on raising children and yes, to continue listening to how “hao kě’ài” my baby boy is!

———————————-

Deepty Tiwari is a contributing author at Multicultural Mothering. She has lived in Chengdu for the last year and a half with her husband and son. She used to work for United Nations; since becoming a mum, she is also a freelancer for humanitarian development projects.

Oh Boy!

20 Nov

“Rahul is a sweetheart! He let Leila have the train,” I declare proudly as he hands back her toy upon request.

“Thanks Rahul.” I continue.

“Afu BOY,” he quickly corrects me, worried. (He calls himself Afu; the Sichuanese version of his Chinese name.)

“Yes. Afu boy.” I confirm, without going into how he can also be a sweetheart!

“Leila girl,” he double-checks.

“Yes. Leila girl.”

He looks up, eyes shining, up to something. “Afu GIRL!”

“Afu girl? Nnnnnno, Afu boy!” I reply with a chuckle.

He bursts out laughing.

The 4 of us are downstairs, L on her train, R on his duck-car, ayi (meaning aunt, what he calls their nanny) and me.

He continues with some powerful declarations of identity: “Afu zizi.” (A cute way for children to say penis in French.)

“Leila kiki.” (A cute way for children to say vagina in French.)

“Yes honey, you’re right. You have a zizi, and Leila has a kiki.”

Then he goes wild: “Papa zizi. Mama kiki. Ayi kiki. Shu shu zizi.” (Shu shu is uncle in Mandarin, what the children call any young man they need to address.)

Our uncontrollable, loud laughter attracts some attention.

“It’s a good thing the Chinese people don’t understand him,” ayi says between squeals of laughter; her face red as a tomato.

———————–

Natasha lives in Chengdu, China with her husband Maher, and two-year-old twins Leila and Rahul. She was an Ashtanga Yoga teacher until her little yogis became the teachers. You can read more of her stories at Our Little Yogis (http://natashadevalia.com)

 

Seiyan Says “NO!” by Alisha Nicole Apale

19 Nov

Alisha: Started out in a small town. Grew up with people who have the opportunity to matter. Bought a plane ticket. Traveled far. Saw another side to the narrative of privilege I’d been grazing on for nearly two decades. Discarded old stereotypes. Got less comfortable with easy answers. Accepted doubt as a sign of authenticity. Still questioning the validity of the actions. Still forging ahead.

Alisha lives in Ottawa, Canada with her partner and one-and-a-half-year old daughter – we’re a Kenyan-Canadian-Dutch family. She grew up near Toronto and at 19, moved to Montreal for her undergrad at McGill University. She spent most of her young(er) adult life studying, living and working in various countries, including Thailand, India, Canada, Kenya and several European Union countries. She is also co-author of Generation NGO, a collection of short stories written by young Canadians working overseas in the development industry. (Catch more of Alisha’s stories at mamaseyian.)
———————————-

“NO!”. She’s one and a half and she already speaks her mind. (Well done, mama, you reached one of your parenting goals!) The word surfaced about 3 weeks ago. I was caught off guard. Humoured. A bit miffed too.

“NO??” I thought to myself. “What do you mean NO?”

And then I remembered being 5, and 10, and even 17 years old. I remember the reactions I’ve had when saying no to my parents, teachers and others. NO was met with resistance, rejection and punishment. A good girl should do as she is told.

Looking at my daughter, I shrugged off the past, quickly realizing that this is just a word she’s picked up at daycare. She’s experimenting with it, much like any other word she learns. She’s searching my face, looking for my reaction. Will I scurry to bring her the object she has just named, praising her and reinforcing her new word – like when she said umbrella, or pumpkin, or hat? Will I start to laugh, or clap, or give her a big hug?

I’ve hesitated for too long. She wanders off. Delayed reactions never impress her. The moment is lost.

There I was, left to ponder the fact that Seyian has said no. It’s a word I have trouble with. I hate it when my partner says “No, I can’t do to the dishes tonight. I’m tired”. Or when my boss says “No, you can’t leave early. I’ll need that report right away”. Or, when a friend says “Sorry.. no, but I can’t meet you for coffee tonight”. Probably, like most people, at times I even avoid making a request altogether, just to avoid hearing no. But in doing so, I’ve started to think about all the opportunity that is lost when I set myself up for nothing but yes in life. Without no, I wouldn’t have learned how to negotiate, or how to defend my position or values, or how to be true to myself and respect my own and others’ needs or interests.

Seyians’s Koko (my mum-in-law) arrived last week. It’s the first time she has met Seyian – she lives in Nairobi and we live in Ottawa. It was a sweet reunion after far too much time apart. The day after her arrival, Koko offered Seyian a piece of fruit and Seyian let out a firm “NO!”. Flustered, I explained it away, saying she probably wasn’t hungry. I felt a bit embarrassed, worried Koko would think that I spoil my daughter, or let her ‘talk back’ to me.

Instead, Koko laughed proudly. I was confused. She looked at me and said, “This girl. She’s empowered. Already! And she’s not even two. She already knows what she wants. This is good”. With six kids of her own and a life-long career teaching elementary school, and advocating access to school for young girls in remote areas of Kenya, Koko knows a thing or two about the importance of negotiation and defending one’s values. For her, no isn’t a bad word, it’s a necessary word.

I’ll be honest. I’m not sure I’ll also be happy when Seyian says, “NO”. Let’s face it, no isn’t always such a convenient answer for mammas like me who are on-the-move, squeezing far too many activities into each 24 hour cycle: wake up, eat, bring baby to daycare, cycle to work, rush to meet a thousand deadlines, cycle back to daycare, pick up the baby, go home, prepare dinner, go to the park, return home, bathe the baby, put the baby to bed, clean the kitchen, shower, stretch, pay bills or catch up on email, head to bed… It’s just easier if everyone is compliant. But that’s not really how I want my daughter to be. So perhaps it’s better if I start to laugh proudly like Koko and welcome the word no into the repertoire of words my daughter will surely need in order to make her place in this world.