PPP for President

One of my freshmen students is named PPP.

I'm not sure what it means; and I'm not sure I want to.

PPP and Peter had a pubescent squabble before class yesterday. PPP blew Peter's paper hat off his head and Peter retaliated by throwing his tissue packets against the wall (here in the Orient, you always have tissues handy for going boom booms). So I escorted these fine young men outside and gave them my "Man Talk." I asked them to write me a letter addressing how they can fix their anger issues and use their strength to build people up not tear them down. PPP sprinted toward me at break time and handed me this little gem.

[Nothing has been altered from this note's original splendor...]

Today, I did a thing that very wrong. I hit my classmate. Although he did something bad to me. But, hit someone is a very wrong thing. It can heart everyone. So. I will never hit my classmate again. If they hit me, I will say, "Hit someone is wrong." and then, every thing will be well. I will say sorry to my deskmate, to my teacher, and to myself. I really hate war and I love peace. so. And I will never hit anyone. Never! That's all, anything else's un necesary. Let's make a peaceful school and a peaceful world together!

PPP for President!

Cockroaches

We have cockroach issues here in the Cloister.

Every morning when I wake up and groggily shuffle to the kitchen to french press myself some Alterra bliss, I flip on the lights and watch at least ten friends scuttle into the dark crevasses where no human wants to go. Every morning there's a slow one who won't live to have another midnight raid on Micah's oatmeal stash. Lately, I've been too soft, slow or lazy because I just verbally taunt them and insult their pedigrees.

When the lights come on, those cockroaches scatter with haste.


Tonight I was on the Zoomer and was scooting through Wudaokou (the Gringoland of Beijing). Looking to buy a book for the girls that I tutor on Sunday. I found a temporary village of street vendors. They have their wares on a little trailer off their electronic bike. They have little light bulbs nakedly hanging off close hangers to shed some light on their rip-off books, DVDs, roasting hazelnuts, frying stinky tofu,cheap coffee cups with 89 different patterns. You can spot these little clusters of illegal vendors from a ways away because those light bulbs are like an ant's antennae, and when 20 of them are grouped together they are tough to miss.

As I was parousing through the stack of books, I bought three copies of To Kill a Mockingbird and a copy of Red Star Over China when I heard a frantic yell that I couldn't understand, but I could make out the ending, "Kuai diarrrrrr!" Which means, "Faster! Faster!" I looked back and saw three policemen get out of a police car about 100 yards away. The vendors quickly and expertly hopped on their bikes and zoomed off to safety, yelling, "Kuai diar! Kuai diar!" Their lights were still bobbling as they scooted to the dark crevasses of safety. It was a sight to behold. These 20ish illegal vendors that were laughing and doing business had vanished within 30 seconds. It was a amazing. Some of them were laughing as they scooted to safety. This was a game to them. Set up shop, make some dough, law arrives, relocate, set up shop, make some dough... This routine of cat and mouse was their existence.

I followed my book guy. He raced off about 50 yards and stopped; threw a tarp over his books, took down his light bulb, and kept a wary eye on the fuzz. I asked him what would happen if the cops found him selling his books without a license. He said in Chinese, "They would take my money away." I asked him how much money he made a day. "200" (roughly $60). He was from Henan Province. I asked what he would do now, "Go home and sleep." Sleep for a few hours, then resume this deadly game of tag.

When the fuzz came out, those venders scattered with haste.

I imagine the cockroaches in my kitchen laugh as they flee too...

Day and Day

This is the view from the breakfast nook in the Cloister.

Talk about a night and day difference thanks to 'ol Man Smog. Except its not night and day, its day and day...

11.25.2011  -  6:31am

11.22.2011  -  6:25am

He's Coming...

The God-man is coming; prepare the way.

The Savior will redeem a rebellious race.

I tremble at the thought of that long-awaited day.

The prophets offer hope to the flock that one day…

The Christ, on loan from above, will show his face.

The God-man is coming; prepare the way.

Why? Why? Why save those champions of sin? They…

Who in Eden spat in your righteous face.

The God-man is coming; prepare the way.

Oh illogical love, that your Son, my King will be napping in the hay.

How I long to meet his endless gaze and feel my Savior’s embrace.

I tremble at the thought of that long-awaited day.

The mountain man tells of One coming:  “the Lamb of God who takes away…”

“The sin of the world.” The miracle made flesh to whitewash my disgrace.

The God-man is coming; prepare the way.

My fear morphs to hope, for the LORD’s love refuses to fray.

From eternity you pinpointed the arrival of your tangible grace.

The God-man is coming; prepare the way.

I tremble at the thought of that long-awaited day.

People Mountain People Sea

人山人海 

Ren Shan Ren Hai

People Mountain People Sea

I love this delightful Chinese idiom.

 It is a perfect snapshot of a subway car so packed with human flesh that you can smell the garlic on the brother’s breath inches away. Ren shan ren hai…

Walking through the hallways at lunchtime when 880 kids in red and green sweat suits are running around in pubescent cliques. Ren shan ren hai…

You are so used to biking amidst the zoom zooms and the bikes and taxis and buses, it’s like some sort chaotic web of spokes, wheels, and honks. Ren shan ren hai…

Tian'anmen Square

There are beautiful ripples about ren shan ren hai. If there were no people it would be a lonely dusty orb of a planet. People are the crown of Creation. Without the people in my life and in my city, I’m like macaroni and cheese without the cheese – just a bland limp noodle of a man. God commissions us all to be fishers of men. He commands roll up our sleeves and get messy in the messiest of businesses – the people business.  

There are also ugly ripples from ren shan ren hai. Humans weren’t meant to live in such close proximity.  Being herded onto the subway like cattle is a vile “invasion of personal space.” In Wisconsin, if you accidentally bumped someone with your elbow, if you politely crashed into someone’s fender while riding your bike, if a car honked at you – there would be punches thrown. But here in “people mountain people sea” territory, it’s a fact of life so get used to it. 

Despite the casualness of not taking the elbows, crashes, honks personally, I have seen more fights in my 12 months in China than I’ve ever seen in America during my 22 years, 5 months, 4 days, and 18 hours of life. My theory is that when you put someone in ren shan ren hai territory, and they are constantly surrounded by the black-haired masses with no fresh air, no place to run, to roam, to spread your wings and inhale the horizon, people get edgy. A balloon can only be poked, elbowed, squished, and squeezed before it pops. Humans are no different.  

I’ve broken up three fights in my China life. Here they are: 

1)  I was walking from the subway to the Cloister and recognized two 15-year-old waiters from my favorite Muslim restaurant yelling, grabbing, flailing, spitting at each other. I shot in and grabbed one of the dudes and carried him to a quiet corner of the alley to cool off. He was probably 78 pounds. The next day they were laughing and working together; calling each other, “little nancies” in Chinese. 

2)  I was playing basketball at the courts across the street and one dude was getting a bit too physical. He was a chubby guy who was better at ball in his dreams than in reality. You know the type. He was guarding me. One of my teammates passed me the ball but it hit Chubs in the thigh and he stomped off and popped my teammate right on the cheek. I got between them and started blocking Chubs like an offensive lineman for about 4 minutes and 43 seconds till he walked off the court. 

3)  This was the most serious and the most recent. I was waiting to go out with my buddies Larry and Wang Chen. It was Singles’ Day – 11.11.2011. In China there is this lame holiday that celebrates singles every November 11^th. Kind of like celebrating picking your nose. Anyway, I’m waiting for Larry to pick me up outside of KFC and there is a street vendor who was selling hats and scarves right next to me. I’m just thinking about food and horses and Reese Witherspoon when I hear this man start screaming at this woman walking her bike a few feet away. She wasn’t happy about the price of his rip-off scarf, so she must have said something that hinted at his lack of manhood and he responded by screaming drunken scathing slurs then walking over and kicking her bike over then shoving this college student to the ground. I was only a few feet away so I immediately shoved him away with my left hand and helped up the trembling girl. She was maybe 25. She thanked me profusely for protecting her.

I got her on her feet, picked up her bike, and walked her away. A gawking passive crowd had formed. Watching the injustice, cursing the drunken fool in their minds, but too afraid to not be a statue. After the girl was safe, I arrogantly walked back to my spot where I was waiting before, crossed my arms, and looked at the fool. That was the nonverbal invitation for a fight. So, he and his three buddies form a horseshoe around me and started yelling at me. I smiled and responded with a line I know all too well, “Ting bu dong” (hear but don’t understand). They came closer and closer but I didn’t move. One dude took a bike lock and pressed it to my clavicle and muttered something venomous like, “You gringos don’t even know how to properly cook eggplant.” 

At this point my heart is racing, but I keep up my stupidly stoic “ting bu dong” routine. Eventually another sober vender comes over and takes me by the elbow and escorts me away from the drunken hyenas. 

Ren shan ren hai.

Brother Bai's Brevity

Dirty Dog brought a friend to Tuesday study. His name is Brother Bai.

In study he asked a great question about Job.  

He is bald and curious about the faith. 

After study he sent me this text:  

“We are friends. I like it. I will come.” 

Keeping it brief. Not my forte. 

Well done Brother Bai.

Chinglish of the Week

My roommate Joe bought this notebook. 

I just could resist sharing its glorious Chinglish-ocity with you. 

Here's to you Mrs. Robinson...

Add Oil

I ran a marathon on Sunday. 

This week people have been asking me, “So Micah, how was marathoning?”

I want to reply, “Well, it’s kind of like puberty – it didn’t last forever, but seemed like it.” 

It actually was awesome. I ran in Hangzhou – a city near Shanghai that is the Fort Lauderdale of China. 

Last January, my friend Hannah and I talked about running a marathon together. The talk morphed to a handshake. The handshake morphed into dream. Eight months later the dream morphed into sweaty reality. So after miles of trials and miles of trials in China’s spring, America’s summer, and China’s fall my legs got a little less flabby and my lungs got a little blacker. When people ask if I smoke I like to answer, “No, I second hand smoke 3 packs of smog a day.” Comparing the pollution levels of Beijing and L.A. would be like having Danny DeVito and Shaq go back to back to see who’s taller. But my theory is – I would rather live for five years than survive for fifty. 

I ran alone with 22 friends. I ran the race alone – Hannah hurt her foot last year and couldn’t train. So I ran alone, but had 22 friends from across China come to Hangzhou to cheer me on. It was phenomenal. When I was in the last 400m of the race, my legs were jello wrapped in skin, but when I saw my crazy friends screaming my name, my skin grew sweaty goose bumps. I let out a rebel yell and charged ahead. It was one of those moments in life where the mental image you have will never fade or rust – that’s the stuff that makes life so sweet. 

During the race, I ran with this American fellow named Israel. He was an amazing dude. This was his 15^th (ish) marathon, so he calmed me down and kept me on pace. We talked for miles as we wound through the breathtaking tea fields and were silent sweaty wingmen for miles along the river. It was so great to run with Israel. 

The universal Chinese cheer for anything involve athleticism or effort, from ping pong to applying for a visa is “Jia you! Jia you!” (pronounced, “yo” as in Yoko Ono). It literally means, “add oil.” What a cool cheer. Add some fuel to that fire. Seeing those 22 friends waiting in the mist, cheering me home was the best way to add oil to my dwindling flame. 

Becca and I had to teach the next day, so we hopped on the bullet train at 4:30 and six and a half hours later we rolled into Beijing. I hobbled up the stairs, one at a time, and crawled into bed only to wake up a few hours later to teach the kiddos at 8:00 the next morning. The walk to the bathroom Monday morning felt like I was walking on two 2x4s.

Now, that my marathon milestone is past I feel a bit as though I’ve been dumped. My maiden of the past eight months has vanished. We were together almost every day. We sweated, laughed, cried, bled, burnt, froze, tripped, triumphed, and pooped together. And now she’s vanished like a fart in the wind. Well, I guess I’ll have to find another maiden to chase.


P.S. - Hannah treated to me to a massage on Monday night, a day after the run. I got man-handled by this masseuse from Xinjiang Province (the Saskatchewan of China). She was not petite. Let me put it to you this way, it was like getting massaged by Brian Urlacher. She had no tender mode.

Lounging Maggots

7 Things That Happen on Reformation in the Jing...

1.  Pancake breakfast preparation is brought to a shrieking halt when Kim screams like a banchi when she sees hundreds of lazy maggots lounging in the pancake mix. 

2.  You Google, "How to make pancakes from scratch."

3.  The musicians (violin, guitar, piano, Becca's thingy) rock the socks off of, "In Christ Alone." 

4.  Your Pastor preaches in socks. 

5.  Theodore Lee Rattei IV either honors or horrifies Martin Luther while rapping, "A Mighty Fortress." 

6.  Theodore Lee Rattei IV's beat boxer can't keep a beat because he is too busy giggling like a Scandinavian school girl.   

7.  You color Luther seals with crayon as a sermon illustration.

Where's Waldo?

I was Waldo for Halloween.

We had a party on my friend Josh's roof. We were 26 floors above ground, but our vista was stifled by Beijing's notorious smoggy umbrella. But even lung-darkening pollution couldn't dim our spirits.

It just meant it was tougher to find Waldo amidst the haze.

-Wisconsinite Waldo-