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A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers

Page 4

by Xiaolu Guo


  fertilise v. 1. to provide (an animal or plant) with sperm or pollen to bring about fertilisation; 2. to supply (soil) with nutrients.

  fertilise

  You take me to garden. Is very small, maybe ten square metres. One by one, you introduce me all the plants you have put there. Sixteen different plants in a ten square metres garden. In my home town in China, there only one plant in fields: rice.

  You know every single plant’s name, like they your family and you try tell me but I not remember English names so you write them down:

  Potato

  Daffodil

  Lavender

  Mint

  Spinach

  Thyme

  Dill

  Apple tree

  Green beans

  Wisteria

  Grape vine

  Bay tree

  Geranium

  Beetroot

  Sweet corn

  Fig tree

  Then I tell you all these plants have very different names and meanings in Chinese. So I write down names in Chinese, and explain every word at you.

  You laughing when you hear the names. “I never knew flutes grew on trees,” you say. It seems I am big comedy to you. I not understand why so funny. “You can’t say your Rs. It’s fruit not flute,” you explain me. “A flute is a musical instrument. But your Chinese name seems just right: a fig tree really is a fruit tree without flowers.”

  “How a tree can just have fruit without having flower first?” I ask.

  Like teacher, you describe how insect climbs into fruit to fertilise seed.

  What “fertilise”? I need looking in Concise Chinese–English Dictionary.

  “Fertilise” make me think Chairman Mao. He likes fertiliser. Was big Mao thing increase productivity, increase plants. Maybe that why China, biggest peasants population country, still alive and become stronger after using fertiliser on the soil.

  I ask: “How long a fig tree has figs after insects fertilising it? Like woman have ten months pregnant?”

  You look at me, like look at alien.

  “Why ten months? I thought it took nine months,” you say.

  “Chinese we say shi yue huai tai . It means giving the birth after ten months pregnant.”

  “That’s strange.” You seem like want to laugh again. “Which day do you start to count the pregnancy in China?” you ask seriously. But how I know? We never being taught this properly in school. Too shameful to teach and to study for our Chinese.

  Standing under your fruit tree without flowers, I pick up piece of leaf, and put on my palm. A single leaf, but large. I touch the surface and feel hairy.

  “Have you read the Bible?” you ask.

  “No.” Of course not, not in China.

  You fetch a big huge black book from room. You open the pages. “Actually the fig tree is the oldest of mankind’s symbols.” You point at beginning of book:

  And the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they were naked, and they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons.

  “What is that?” I am curious.

  “It is about Adam and Eve. They used fig leaves to cover their naked bodies.”

  “They clever. They knowing fig leaves bigger than other leafs,” I say.

  You laugh again.

  Your gardening machines everywhere in disorder.

  Suddenly I bit shocked, stop. There are some nudity in your garden.

  “What this?” I ask.

  “Those are my sculptures,” you say.

  Sculptures? A naked man no head, facing to ground of the garden. Body twisted, with enormous hands and enormous feet. Close to ground, between the legs, two beautiful eggs, like two half of apples. In the middle of apples, a penis like little wounded bird. I walk to him and touch. Is made of plaster. I amazed by this body, is huge, looks suffered. I remember picture from Michelangelo’s David on your bookshelf, a very healthy and balanced body. But yours, yours far different.

  Beside this body statue, some other smalls clay sculptures. Ear, big like basin, in brown. Shape of that ear spread like a big flower. Then more ears, different shape, different size. They lie on the grass quietly, listening us.

  Under fig tree another penis made from clay, gentle, innocent. Then another one, looks harder, lies down beside honeysuckle roots, in soil colour. Little clay sculptures there, like they live with plants hundred years.

  The noisy London being stopped by brick wall. The grey city kept away by this garden. Plants and sculptures on sunshine. Glamorous, like you. Maybe all mans in London green fingers. Maybe this country too cold and too dim, so plants and garden can showing imagination the spring, the sun, the warmth. And plants and garden giving love like womans warm mans life.

  When I stand in garden with sixteen different plants, I think of Chinese mans. Chinese city-mans not plant-lover at all. Shameful for Chinese city-mans pour passion onto those leafs. He be considered a loser, no position in society. But you, you different. Who are you?

  instruction n. 1. order to do something; 2. teaching–pl. information on how to do or use something.

  instruction

  We have so much sex. We make love every day and every night. Morning, noon, afternoon, late afternoon, evening, early night, late night, midnight, even in the dreams. We make love in sun, we make love in grey afternoon, and we make love at raining night. We make love on narrow bench of garden, under fig tree, on hammock covered by the grape leafs, by kitchen sink, on dinner table, on anywhere we feel like to make love. I feel scared towards your huge energy. You come into me strong like a storm blowing a wooden house in the forest, and you come into me deep like a hammer beating the nail on the wall. You ask me if it feels good, and I say it make me feel comfortable.

  “Only comfortable!?”

  “Yes,” I tell you. “I find your body is very comfortable, like nothing else I find in this uncomfortable country.”

  Do I feel shame about sex? Yes, I do, in beginning. A lot. Is such taboo in China. I never really know what is sex before. Now I naked everyday in the house, and I can see clearly my desire. Recent I dream few times that I am naked in street, in market, and even on highway. I run through busy street fast as I can to get home. But still, everybody in street surprising to see I am naked.

  What this dream about?

  You say this dream about shame or fear of being exposed.

  Every time we make love you produce so much sperm on my skin like the spring on the Trafalgar Square, you are worried sometimes that maybe I get pregnant. We only want have each other and we don’t want let the third person take over our love.

  You say we need use the condom.

  In our long-shabby-Hackney-Road, there no any “Boots” (Boots is a shop represent civilisation to me), although Cost Cutter sells condom sometimes. But shopkeeper in Cost Cutter know us just like he know niece or nephew. And he is serious Muslim, he might anti condom user. So we have go to Brick Lane, where the Bangladeshi shopkeepers are kind and messy, and they can’t remembering every single customer face whom from Hackney Road.

  PLEASE READ THESE INSTRUCTIONS CAREFULLY, as it say on the box. I open box, unfold notes, then start read. I never read condom instruction before. I think people maybe only read condom instruction when the first time they try to sex. Anyway I new to this.

  Tear along one side of the foil, removing the condom carefully. Condoms are strong but can be torn by sharp fingernails or jewellery.

  “What is jewellery?” I ask.

  “Sparkly stuff women love to wear,” you say, without emotion.

  Only put the condom on when the penis is erect and before contact with your partner’s body. This helps prevent STDs and pregnancy.

  “What is STD?”

  “Sexually Transmitted Disease,” you reply quickly, as if is thing you are familiar as your every day’s mint tea.

  Now place the condom over the end of the penis with the roll on the outside. With one hand pinch the teat of the condom to expel any trapp
ed air, this will make space for the sperm.

  I being stopped by these word:

  one hand pinch the teat of the condom to expel any trapped air

  …I needing several seconds to imagine that scene. Is like pornography. We cannot have words like this in Chinese. We too ashamed. Westerner has nothing too ashamed. You can do anything in this country.

  Using the other hand, roll the condom down the length of the penis to its base. Withdraw the penis soon after ejaculation whilst still erect, holding the condom firmly in place at the base of the penis. Wait until the penis is completely withdrawn before removing the condom. Keep the penis and condom away from the vagina to avoid any contact with sperm…

  I can’t continuing reading. I am totally lost these words. But you laughing.

  Condoms are intended for vaginal intercourse, other uses can increase the potential for breakage.

  I stop: “What’s that mean?”

  “It is a hint. It means you shouldn’t put it into the arse.” You answer, very precise, but no more patience, as you start reading your Guardian Weekend.

  I read other bits of instruction on other side as well, and they less important. For example,

  Even if you are not planning on having sexual intercourse, it’s sensible to carry condoms with you, just in case.

  Sensible to carry condoms all the time? Westerner can always have sex whenever they go shopping, or waiting for bus or train. Sex in this country is like brush the hair or the teeth.

  Words on the instruction are more exciting than sexy magazines on shelfs of corner shop in our street.

  charm n. 1. attractive quality; 2. trinket worn on a bracelet; 3. magic spell–v. 1. attract, delight; 2. influence by personal charm; 3. protect or influence as if by magic.

  charm

  From first day we being together, until next two and three days, our skins being non stop together, not separating even a hour. You talk to me about everything. But I not understand completely. You say:

  “I used to try to love men. For most of the last twenty years I have been out with men.”

  I think is good try love men. World better place. But go out where?

  “When I was a squatter, I made a lot of sculptures. They’d fill the houses.”

  What squat? I take out dictionary. Says “to sit with the knees bent and the heels close to the bottom or thighs.” Very difficult position, I imagine.

  What kind houses you squatted there? Don’t lonely sit with the knees bent without chair on the floor?

  “I used to plant potatoes and beans on a farm, and I looked after my goats. I loved doing that, more than anything else.”

  So you a peasant? How come you also such a city man?

  “I love old things. I love second-hand things. I hate new things. I don’t want to buy new things any more.”

  But old things rotten, dying. How you feel alively and active with daily life if only live with old things?

  Every sentence you said, I put into my own dictionary. Next day I look at and think every single word. I am entering into your brain. Although my world so far away from your, I think I be able understand you. I think you absolutely charming. Thing around you fascinating.

  I feel a concentrate of love for you, farmer, sculptor, lover of men, stranger. Noble man.

  In China we say hundreds of reincarnations bring two peoples to same boat. Maybe you are that people for me to be same boat. I never met mans like you before. I think we perfect: You quite Yin, and I very Yang. You earthy, and I metal. You bit damp, and I a little dry. You cool, and I hot. You windy, and I firey. We join. There is mutualism. And we can benefit each other. And all these makes us efficient lover.

  vegetarian n. a person who eats no meat or fish for moral, religious, or health reasons–adj. suitable for a vegetarian.

  vegetarian

  One problem between us and that is food.

  Chop Chop, local Chinese restaurant in Hackney. I make you go there even though you say you never go Chinese restaurants.

  Restaurant has very plain looking. White plastic table and plastic chairs and white fluorescent lamp. Just like normal government work unit in China. Waiter unhappy when cleans table, not looking anybody. Woman with pony tails behind counter she even more mean. A plastic panda-savings-tin sitting on top of counter. None of them can speak Mandarin.

  “No. Sit there. No, no, not this table. Sit at that table.”

  Waiter commands like we is his soldiers.

  “What you want?…We don’t have tap water, you have to order something from the menu…We don’t do pots of green tea, only cups.”

  I hate them. I swear I never been so rude Chinese restaurant in my entirely life. Why Chinese people becoming so mean in the West? I feel bit guilty for horrible service. Because I bring you, and you maybe thinking my culture just like this. Maybe that why some English look down of our Chinese. I am shameful for being a Chinese here.

  But we still have to eat. Especially me, starving like the Ghost of Hunger. I always hungry. Even after big meal, later by one or two hours I feel hungry again. My family always very poor until several years ago. We used eat very small, barely had meat. After my parents started shoes factory, and left the poor peasants background behind, changed. But still I think foods all the time.

  You not know nothing about Chinese food so I quickly order: duck, pork, fried tofu with beefs.

  Meal comes to table, and I digging fastly my chopsticks into dishes like having a snowstorm. But you don’t have any action at all. You just look me, like looking a Beijing opera.

  “Why you not eat?” I ask, busy chewing my pork in my mouth.

  “I am not very hungry,” you say.

  “You use chopsticks?” I think maybe that’s the reason.

  “Yes. Don’t worry.” You raise your chopsticks and perform to me.

  “But you waste the food. Not like Chinese food?”

  “I am a vegetarian,” you say picking up little bit rice. “This menu is a zoo.”

  I am surprised. I try find my dictionary. Damn, is not with me this time. I remember film English Patient I watch on pirate DVD in China to education me about British people. “What that word? Word describe a people fall asleep for long long time, like living dying?”

  “You mean coma?” You are confused.

  “Yes, that is the word! You are not like that, do you?”

  You put chopsticks down. Maybe you angry now.

  “I presume you are thinking of the persistent vegetative state,” you say. “Vegetarian means you don’t eat meat.”

  “Oh, I am sorry,” I say, swallowing big mouthful tofus and beefs.

  Now I understand why never buy piece of meat. I thought it is because you poor.

  “Why don’t eat meat? Meat very nutritious.”

  “…” You have no comments.

  “Also you be depression if you don’t eating meat.”

  “…” You still have no comments.

  “My parents beaten me if I don’t eating meat or any food on table in a meal. My parents curse me being picky and spoiled. Because others dying without any food to eat.”

  “…” Still don’t say anything.

  “How come man is vegetarian? Unless he is monk,” I say.

  Still no words from you, but laughing.

  You watch me eating all of meal. I try finish the duck, and the tofu and the beefs. My stomach painful. There are still porks left, and I order to take them away.

  While I eating, you write top ten favorite food on a napkin:

  avocado

  asparagus

  lentils

  spinach

  lettuce

  pumpkin

  radish

  broccoli

  aubergine

  carrot

  But, is this list will be the menu in our kitchen for rest of life? Is terrible! What about my meatball, my mutton, my beefs in black bean sauce? Who will be in charge of kitchen?

  noble adj. showing or having high mo
ral qualities; of the nobility; impressive and magnificent.

  noble

  Sunday. I want do shopping. I say we need buy some toilet paper, some candle, some garlic, some ginger, some greens. (I not say meat, but actually that what I want buy after eating vegetables with you every day.)

  “I want go to Sainsbury.” After saying that, I realising I need practise my English manner, so I ask you again: “Shall we go to Sainsbury?”

  You not look happy.

  “Hmm, right. Let’s worship in Sainsbury’s every Sunday.”

  “What worship?”

  “Worship? It’s how the Chinese feel about Mao.”

  I don’t know what say. Don’t you know now we worship America?

  “I don’t like Sainsbury’s,” you say. “I like the rubbish market. They have much more interesting things there.”

  “Which rubbish market?”

  You take me to the Brick Lane market. Is really a rubbish market. All kind of second-hand or third-hand radios, old CDs, used furniture, broken television set (who want buy a broken TV set?), old bicycles, tyres, nails, drilling machines, dusty shoes, pirate DVDs, cheap biscakes…I wonder if all these things made in China.

  You walk in the rubbish market with your old brown leather jacket and your dirty old leather shoes. The jacket is so old that the sleeves are wore out and the bottom is pieces. But you look great with these rubbish costumes in the rubbish market.

  I think you are a noble man with noble words. I am not noble. I am humble. And I speak humble English. I from poor town in south China. We never see noble.

  surprise n. 1. an unexpected event; 2. amazement and wonder–v. 1. to cause to feel amazement or wonder; 2. to come upon, attack, or catch suddenly and unexpectedly.

  surprise

  Suddenly another thing else new and unexpected:

  “I need to leave London for a few days.” You pack clothes.

  “For what? For where?” It is too out in blue for me.

 

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