People are people, and we all change for the better and or for worse. I’m betting on the youth of China to surprise the world. I see it in the fashions, the music, and other creative art forms. In silent passionate ways, and through expressions of dreams and ideals, the “Now” Chinese generation shines a promising light on the future. Only time will tell. But one thing remains certain, and that is that China will always contain enough unique adventures for anyone’s lifetime.
The next and the last question is, will China accept me? Can I renounce my status as Black American and become a Black Chinese? Will I be allowed as a senior citizen to stay beyond the age of seventy in the country I have decided to make my home? It remains unclear. The reality of my uncertain residency status tears me apart, forces me to question my affinity with my new home country. Perhaps watching the setting sun in my twilight years will have to be done back in the land of my birth, or in some other country altogether.
But my neighbors accept me. I live on the twenty-second floor of a block in an apartment complex on the outskirts of Beijing, beyond the Fourth Ring. I have wonderful views of the city’s skyline. Most of the residents are retired and older Chinese citizens. The gray-haired women who gather on the front stoop most mornings and evenings respond to my greetings. They curiously scrutinize each bag I carry to see what this foreigner brings from the market, or from the mall. There are times when I humor their curiosity and give them a quick look. The elevator rides up and down are no longer with stone-faced impassive strangers, there are now exchanges of greetings, “Ni Hao” and more. I joke with vegetable vendors. Even some bus drivers now respond to my habitual greetings as I board. I have tried to be consistent with my policy of quietly building cultural bridges in my community. These are my community folk, not stones to be silently passed by.
For me, the payoff has been an increasing sense of comfort in the zone in which I dwell. It is a zone in which we all accept the differences between us.
I remember a young man, perhaps in his late twenties, staring at me in a shop, open-mouthed.
“Bl-a-a-ck!”
That was all he could say, the only English word he could dredge up. But it wasn’t malevolent. It was just the first time he had ever come face to face with someone of my skin color.
“Yes!” I replied. “I am Black and you are Yellow!”
We both laughed as he disappeared out through the doorway.
Acknowledgments
Words of appreciation and gratitude must be given to those who have helped me through various transitions and stages. Without the kind forbearance of the Han family, the Tang family, the Wang family, and the Zhang family, many of China’s positives would have most certainly been overlooked. Friends at home and abroad who gave constant encouragement and support also played vital roles in helping me maintain some semblance of sanity. Finally, to my Editor and Publisher and his staff, kudos and hearty embraces for their keen observations and sensitive skills in helping in the telling of this story. To all mentioned and not mentioned, there are thoughts of endearing gratitude.
About The Author
Aaron Anthony Vessup was born in Los Angeles, California, the second oldest of sixteen children. He won state recognition as a poetry writer while still at elementary school, and later became a college speech champion, first for California and later Nebraska. After graduating from Nebraska Wesleyan University, he worked for decades as a teacher in universities and schools across the United States, including Elgin Community College in Illinois. He received the Elgin City Martin Luther King award five years in a row for “Outstanding Cross-Cultural Cable TV Programming.” He moved to China is 2004 to continue his teaching career in a fresh environment. In China, he has lived and worked in three different regions and taught communications and culture classes at a number of schools, colleges and universities. He is a prolific writer and an award-winning photographer and one of his passions is contributing travel essays and photographic work to Chinese magazines. He now lives happily in Beijing.
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