My Grandmother and I


	MY GRANDMOTHER AND I Hou Ying
[Danish Version]	My grandmother was born on May 3rd 1907. When asked her age, she will tell you she is 95. Old people like to tell you their age in the traditional way (according to chinese custom, one is already a year od at birth!). She is actually only 94, using the old method of calculation; I don´t know where she gets the extra year from. If you think my grandmother gets confused then you are completely wrong. Without looking at the calender, she always knows exactly how many days there are between visits by my mother and I. As I write these lines, I have a picture of grandma in my head: she follows us with her eyes as she stands at the window. It is an image I just can not erase from my mind. Every time we come to see her, it´s not long before she asks us to leave again, but then when we do, she says nothing; she just stands on the tip-toes of her tiny feet at the south-faced window. I dare not look back for fear of meeting her gaze because I never know if it is going to be the last time I see her alive. Let´s face it, 94 is not young. I dread the day she passes away. I know Granny will wake up on the first chime of the ringing in of the new millenium. The older generation would not be able to stay up all night in romantic anticipation of the bells at midnight. They belong to another era when there were no network, no Coca Cola and no twilight love-affairs; some of them starved for they were very poor and some of them fought for their lives. If I were to ask Granny about her New Year´s resolution for the new millenium, she would probably give me one but I won´t ask because I know what her answer would be - she would promise to leave this world soon so as not to be a burden to her family. So while everybody else is looking forward to the new millenium, my Granny will be preparing to leave us. She is part of the 'unselfish generation', where putting other people first is the norm. Grandma has brought this trait from the 20th century with her into the 21st century, but it is a trait I can do without. Maybe I am being too self-centered when I fear losing my grandmother. Do I even stop to consider how she might feel? Is her life worth living at 93? She hasn´t been outside the door, nor felt the heat of the sun on her skin, neither has she enjoyed fresh air for years. She has been barely able to get around her own little room and can only do so with the help of a stick. As a result, her skin has turned very pale. What´s good about that? When she has to go to the toilet, she walks 5-6 metres along a slippery path and has to squat like a small child who is afraid of falling. Is there anything good about that ? When her twisted bones ache in her body and the asthma tears at her lungs so she can´t even get out of bed and has to wait for help from some of her grandchildren, on the off-chance that one of them might happen to come by, what pleasure does she derive from that ? When she doesn´t hear from her children for a long time and asks everyone about them only to be given evasive answers, when her impatience gets the better of her and she feels helpless, do you think she feels happy about that? When she is feeling lonely and turns on the tv for company only to discover she doesn´t understand the modern expressions and the complicated scenarios, does that make her happy? When she is constantly being reminded of how her body and soul is out of touch with the present and she relies on the love and consolation of her family; she longs for them day-in, day-out and at the same time, she is afraid of burdening them because they are all busy with their own lives, she doesn´t want to bother them. How can my grandmother be happy? My Grandma is a strong person. At age 15, she married my grandfather who was the descendant of an unsuccessful estate owner. Materially, they didn´t have much to show for their 40 years together. Grandma brought up six children on her own; she and an old peasant worker cultivated 2 mu of land (1200 m2) just barely managing to survive. I don´t precisely know how she suffered but I do know she has a pair of `3-cun´s (appr. 9 cm) lilly feet. She never allowed me as a child to see her wash her feet. Now she doesn´t mind but I can´t bear to see them so I always look away. It was with wobbly steps on these tiny feet that this little woman did a man´s work year after year; it was also on these tiny feet that she hurried up the narrow mountain road with one child on her arm and a whole flock behind her with the distant humming of the planes of those japanese devils in her ears and my two-year-old mother hidden in a hole in the ground under the table, crying her eyes out; on these same feet, she painstakingly scrubbed and scoured the yard gate (nobody took any notice of her, neither did anybody help her for she was just the wife of a banished estate owner). She was the wife of an estate owner with only 2 mu of land which she wasn´t really fit to cultivate. Some time later these tiny feet carried her to Beijing to see her four grandchildren. By the time these weary feet finally got the chance to go where they wanted and to travel round our beautiful country to see the sights, they had lost their initiative and their strength - their step began to slow down and they began to need support. My brave grandmother wished it wasn´t so, her body was growing old but not her mind, a 93 year-old who couldn´t stave off the march of time, she didn´t want to be a burden, she just wanted to be on her way..... But I know she doesn´t really want to leave, I just know it. I remember she was very ill once. I had been to visit her and was about to leave when she turned around to face me and suddenly took my hand. She looked at me long and hard, as if we were going to lose one another the minute she loosened her grip. The tears welled up in my eyes and I tried to pull away before she could see I was crying but she still didn´t let go. Her hand had the strength of a young woman in it that day...... as I ran home, I understood that she had wanted to tell me everything. My grandmother belongs to a generation of self-sacrificers. She sacrificed her life to feed and clothe her family and to have peace of mind. When I was little, I thought she was the world´s happiest person alive because she had so many grandchildren who looked up to her. As an adult, I now understand that she also worries and frets about her family. Has Grandma any self-awareness at all? Does she and her fellow contemporaries ever consider the life they might have had ? What would be her greatest joy? Does true love really exist? I have none of the answers to these questions but I do know that she has always played an active role and has never shirked her responsibilities. She has faced difficulties with bravery and has put herself last when ever necessary - she has always been tough on herself and lenient with others. My generation is both wild and selfish, we can let off steam by disco-dancing, we can surf the net, we can go our own way, do what we want and we probably have a greater self-awareness than all the 'grannies' put together but we can never permit ourselves to look down on them because to choose a life like theirs takes a lot more courage, to assume responsibility always costs more than to pursue one´s own pleasure. My grandmother of 93 is like a thick book, I will always hold dear what she has told me and I will always remember what she has taught me. When the clock chimes for the new millenium, what thoughts will run through your mind grandma? Your children wish you the best. Take good care of yourself! Translated from Chinese to Danish by Hatla Thelle Translated from Danish to English by Maureen Eriksen