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Seventeen Hours with Loud Chinese Mamas

Popularity 1Viewed 845 times 2015-10-15 04:28 |Personal category:Literary writings|System category:Life| Chinese, mamas

Seventeen Hours with Loud Chinese Mamas

 

Fisher East

 

The term Chinese mamas can always suggest genuine loveliness and magnificent reputation.

 

You may have read of Chinese mamas and loud Chinese mamas, sometimes, or very often recently. You know the lexical meaning of the terms, but you may probably fail to figure out the sentiments of the people who use the terms with considerable admiration.

 

It takes something more than reading. A watching, a hearing, and further a feeling of some of the Chinese mamas in verbal communications, and further, if possible, in non-verbal presentations, can bring you actual experiences. If you can well recollect and reconstruct such experiences of loud Chinese mamas and of the loudness of loud Chinese mamas, you will, I think, catch the sentiments there in and there from. I had a pleasant journey, which exposed me graphically to the loud Chinese mamas, or exhibited the loud Chinese mamas spectacularly in front of me, for seventeen hours.

 

After a ten-minute prelude of the spectacular exhibition, I was strikingly and permanently impressed. They are loud, and they are proud. They are loudly proud, and they are proudly loud. They are loud and proud, and proud and loud.

 

The exhibition began at three o’clock in a Chicago afternoon, in front of a certain K Gate, in the Chicago O’Hare International Airport, continued in a six o’clock American Airlines flight, and after another twelve hours, disclosed at ten in a Beijing morning.

 

It was a real treat. Such a fascinating exhibition blocked away the fatiguing hours of journey, though it changed my vision for things I should do in these hours. And what is more, the exhibition reminded me of the mode of naming of the books of The Analects of Confucius, with the first two words of the opening chapters. I could help referring to three of them as Mama Ah Yah, Mama Oh Yah, and Mama Ah La, the most heard and the most striking of the group of loud Chinese mamas in exhibition.

 

These mamas talk, laugh and even sigh, with high pitches, and with a sort of naturalness modified by preparedness or a sort of preparedness featured by naturalness.

 

They have much money, so much so that they are always worrying where and how to spend the money. They have rich husbands, or rich husband-like bosses, on rich and important posts. They have happy children, staying in foreign institutions of education or training, working for something like degrees, and spending much money of theirs.

 

“Ah yah, my son spends so much,” Mama Ah Yah said with happy annoyance, “flying business class, buying world famous brands, and, ah yah, the Old Heaven blesses him, he was born as my son!”

 

“Oh yah, my son, that trouble the Old Heaven sent to me,” Mama Oh Yah exclaimed, “he changed nine girl friends, and spent tens of thousands dollars on each of them!”

 

“Ah la, my daughter and her husband give me ten thousand dollars a month,” sighed Mama Ah La, “to buy small things. I am always worried about where I can put the money!”

 

They have travelled to many countries, Japan, South Korea, Thailand, Russia, England, France, the United States, and… They have visited many places, Seoul, Tokyo, Moscow, New York, London, Paris, and… They searched many shopping molls, target centers, and outlets…

 

They bought many world famous brands, watches, bags, and perfumes… Mount Blanc, LV, Lancome …

 

“Ah yah, after several looks, I began to think this watch I bought the day before yesterday not pleasant to the eyes, and not very worthy of collection, so I have to find a new watch in Europe,” Mama Ah Yah said, proudly and loudly.

 

“Oh yah, at a third or fourth sight, oh well, I began to feel this bag I bought yesterday not very convenient to the female hands, not very matching my build, and not very like the bag I should carry with me,” Mama Oh Yah said in loud and proud pitches, “so I have to search for new bags the next time I travel to …”

 

“Ah la,” Mama Ah La cut in, “I doubt if this Lancome is good enough to my skin, perhaps, I have to look for new perfumes, in France!”

 

They have good knowledge of fashions and styles.

 

“Ah la, this handbag is already out of fashion,” Mama Ah La stated, “yet Mrs. Zhao bought one the other day.”

 

“Oh yah, Mrs. Wang has to prepare a good eye for dresses,” Mama Oh Yah added.

 

“Ah yah, Mrs. Qian and Mrs. Sun, I say,” Mama Ah Yah decided, “have very little knowledge of hats.”

 

They are strong, and yet they are fragile. They the strongest of the Chinese mamas, and yet they are the most fragile of the Chinese mamas. They are strong, when they get together, or when they are placed before the younger people; and they are fragile, when they stay with rich men, either their husbands, or their husband-like bosses.

 

“Ah, yah, a long line,” Mama Ah Yah shouted from four to ten!”

 

“Oh yah, a bomb,” Mama Oh Yah blasted, “A very big bomb, a big bomb of four hooks!”

 

“Ah la,” Mama Ah La exploded, “a much bigger bomb, four eggs.”

 

By half past three, four of the Chinese mamas had already seated themselves on the floor, forming a circle in front of one of the K Gates, at a special game of cards. Every shouting of the word of bomb aroused my curiosity, what if the shouting of the word resounded in the ears of some American policemen who can speak Chinese but know nothing of the Chinese games of cards?

 

In the Chinese context, most people prefer to call jacks hooks, queens eggs, and kings olds, and aces pointed heads.

 

In the twelve hour flight, Mama Oh Yah sat in the seat left to me, Mama Ah Yah sat in the seat right behind me, and the other mamas sat somewhere outside my visual and auditory reaches. A middle-aged man of few words sat to the left of Mama Oh Yah, listening to her loud murmurings all the way from Chicago to Beijing. A young man sat left to Mama Ah Yah, listening with admiration to her lectures about world finance, Asian economy, Chinese arts and the approaches of English proficiency, in Chinese, but blended with some words of English pronounced like a northern dialect of Chinese.

 

“Oh yah, my mummy,” Mama Oh Yah, after the manner of a teen girl, told the silent man, “and my husband, always asked me to keep my build with dances when I was small, and my younger sister learned dancing under the guidance of a China Ballet Group dancer…”

 

After many stories of her childhood, the man of few words uttered a few words, “how are things going on with your younger sister?” Mama Oh Yah, responded, grinding the man upon the right shoulder of his with the left shoulder hers, in a special coquettish tune, “I hate to tell you that!”

 

(October 2015, on a journey from Chicago to Beijing)

(Opinions of the writer in this blog don't represent those of China Daily.)


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