Jessie’s Journal From China to Canada Poems by
Jessie Zhang
Poems by Jessie Zhang
Issuu Publishing 1
CopyrightŠ2015 by Jessie Zhang
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Contents
Acknowledgements……………………..4 Landscape……………………………..… 5 Greeting…………………………………. 6 Eye Contact…………………………..…. 7 Homophone……………………….….…11 Pronunciation……………….….……….12 Belonging………………………………..13
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acknowledgements
Thanks to family and friends for the support— Douglas, Naylor and Zoey, Naylor, Wayne Krushelnisky.
Thanks to my CREW311 classmates. Thanks to my instructor Jay Ruzesky. Thanks to John Hill and John Lepage.
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Landscape
When I first came People asked me How I felt about Canada.
I said,
Fresh air, friendly Canadians What about the landscape?
I said, The pictures of Canada in the magazines , TV and movies are not what I saw in Richmond Yet, it awoke in me a desire to explore
Driving from Vancouver 5
to Whistler I looked outside the snowy Grouse Mountain The Giant pine trees and the vast Pacific Ocean Especially the single houses The beckoning walk ways With their enchanting gardens Shadowed by trees that changed color through seasons
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Greeting
Come on, my husband won’t bite you, A lady says as she demonstrates a hug. I stand in front of them, Even as I just observe it I feel embarrassed Sorry, I mumble that I can’t But maybe I’ll try next time The giggles from a big crowd Shift through my ears I notice that a Canadian Hug is just a way of Greeting one another Sometimes it’s so different A gentleman gives my hand 7
a kiss and I flash my hand away. Yes, instantly A French man kisses both my cheeks. My knees shake like a leaf in the wind Among the chuckles the lady asks, So what do you do when you greet your friends in China? Well, we often shake hands, I reply A hug usually happens in a relationship of love and it is taboo to hug in a public place. A teasing smile on her face, But here in Canada, People hug everywhere 8
My mum is a big hugger So I get a lot of hugs, she says. At a party, her arms dangling around her husband’s neck, she says, this is the warmest hug. Her husband lifts her in the air and she struggles for a landing Ha ha, it’s my turn to laugh, You can’t fool me I know how to perform a proper hug: Like toddlers who open their arms as they see a smiling face their hugs have crossed countries
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Eye Contact
The last time I used direct eye contact was in China. A city to city bus dropped off our tourists at a strange restaurant on the side of the highway The driver locked the bus door and suggested that we would all have a meal at the restaurant We were all reluctant A man who turned to be the owner barked aggressively at me Why don’t you get inside? I stood still, stared at him, eye to eye, like a dragon spurting fire sorry, I don’t need it He backed off 10
When I grew up the respectful way to listen to people was to lower my head and look down to the ground It was almost a symbol of showing one’s sincerity by maximizing the hearing of my ears. We have a sound conversation
You, my Canadian friend once irritated by my absence of eye contact. You raise your voice and hold my shoulder say Look at me I’m talking to you Are you paying attention? “Of course I am,” I answer. 11
But you didn’t look at me Was I talking nonsense? “No, I respect you and I’m listening with my ears open In my culture, it is impolite to look directly into your eyes.” Okay, let me show you The Canadian way. You point your two fingers From your nose to my nose and say, Are you a thief? Most Canadian thieves make no eye contact when police Ask them questions, but it is rude To talk to someone you know Without any eye contact Now I get your point My helpful Canadian friend 12
for the rest of our conversation I start to adopt your custom Oh, my goodness I have never looked at a man’s face so intently Your blue eyes look like double mini-cornflowers I wonder if your prominent nose came from a family from Europe or Israel You have dimples as you smile and your lips move as fast as a machine gun Obviously, you have A dynamic expression
Pardon, what did you say? “I’m supposed to just look into your eyes, okay, breathe here I go 13
I remember someone said That an eye is a window to the soul; and you, my friend Have a such a good soul I shall look into your eyes as I read your mind.�
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Homophone
Sparkling eyes, smiling face Your soft voice spreads an invitation for a discussion at the ESLA class You say let’s ‘Brain Storm’ I hear ‘Bring Stone’ as I watch you Jotting down the word education The moment you raise your hand in the air holding a marking pen Against the white board My mind buzzes with puzzles Not sure if the ‘Bring Stone’ is a metaphor or your interpretation I guess whoever brings a word shall evoke a strong and solid idea like a rock I keep my mouth shut, but my mind reaches the highest peak of perplexity 15
Pronunciation
Hi, I’ve seen you walk around You are my ‘Neighbour’ I am in a jubilant mood My voice floats on a pleasant melody as I say hello to You, but you stare at me with a confuse look, you say I am not your ‘ Laborer’ Wrinkles climb to your high forehead and I say “please forgive me and I’d like to get things straightened out” You say, Neighbor not Laborer Repeat after me and I have no idea what the differences are 16
Belonging
This is how I feel a sense of belonging: In the community library, she says We would love to have you join us We have an annual event for remembering the miners who once worked on Protection Island, Some were Chinese during the nineteen century I realize that there was a Chinese community one hundred and fifty years ago
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This is how I feel a sense of belonging: at the community garden, he says, we welcome you to our garden group. We plant herbs, vegetables and flowers Maybe you can tell us about the Suyo The seeds have been growing well I recognize that Suyo is the Chinese long cucumber “Sure,� I nod my head like a drummer
This is how I feel a sense of belonging: 18
A letter from the Protection Lions Club that says, You are invited to join us for helping people in need and creating a better community I see the spirit of Lei Feng that spreads the supportive neighborhoods all around the world My response: “Definitely, I am in.�
This is how I feel a sense of belong: At the Power Squadron meeting, She says, We all have dreams about boats. Not everyone sails around the world, but we can share our boating experience 19
You don’t have to go to the North Pole to know what it looks like, and the guest speaker will take you on his journey Yes, if I bring the illustration of a coast of China and if each of us can share just one place, we will cover the whole world
This is how I feel a sense of belonging: at the Ukulele Circle, as the leading singer of Sisters Are Soul mates She sings. More than twenty smiling faces holding the ukuleles in their hands I hum a Chinese song in the same melody that music has crossed cultures 20
When they ask me how I feel I say that I’m one of your sisters
This is how I feel a sense of belonging: at the Tai Chi Club, the hand movements travel across cultures The master says, We would love to have you in our class I bring my traditional style while learning a new interpretation. Something that is more than just sharing the same interests. I am one of many Seeking well-being
This is how I feel 21
a sense of belonging: at VIU’s Creative Writing Program, my peers are just like me They appreciate the beauty of language. The translation of my Chinese adds flavor to my broken English I strive to be one of the decent writers
This is how I feel a sense of belonging: When strangers say Isn’t it a privilege that always nice and warm here in B.C? When my friends say May I have your thoughts? When my husband says Are your ready for dinner? 22
Afterward
The collection of short poems from a personal memoir describes Jessie’s experience as a middle-aged Chinese woman having immigrated to Canada in 2009. Seeking a sense
of
belonging,
she
misunderstood
customs,
experienced the embarrassments of social activities, the struggles of language studies towards the final fit into the new country. Jessie Zhang is a student from the Vancouver Island University. She lives in Nanaimo, B.C with her husband.
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