Yesterday

“PINEAPPLE.” He grunted in his sleep, Aziz repeated the name. “I’m going.” The Korean awoke and sat up, his hair springing to attention.
There were eight beds in the room. The floorboards were shining with sunlight reflected from the windows. A blond German was standing next to Aziz. Pineapple was writing something, he handed Aziz a scrap of paper. “You can write to me here.”
Through the far window was a view of the western end of The Bund, Shanghai’s most famous street, which looked onto the snaking Huangpu River. You could see the first few in the line of grand hotels and banks.
Aziz picked up his bag and turned to his friends, “It’s been a good week.”
The German nodded. “Maybe we’ll meet again in Shanghai.” They had spent evenings trawling student bars and ex-pat European discos.
They watched him down the corridor. Everything was overstated and impersonal in the hotel; the ceilings were high, the staircases wide, the rooms spacious with few amenities.
He took a taxi to the station. For 36 hours he lay on his soft sleeper bunk in a compartment which he shared with three others, patrolled the corridor of his carriage, ate in the dining car, listened to his personal stereo, read and made notes. As the train neared Tianshui he said goodbye to his fellow travellers.
Aziz walked onto the concourse in front of the station. He got onto a minibus which negotiated its way past the bicycles and carts then went through a toll gate and onto an empty motorway. The land was glowing in the early evening sun.
Its final stop was a bustling plaza, a nouveau Communist shopping mall to one side, a bank under construction on the other and narrow roads congested by street sellers leading off in several directions.
Dusk was setting in the direction of the College. A hatch back motorbike took him along the road by the dry riverbed to the gates of the campus.
The stone table tennis tables between the dormitory buildings were not in use, the shops in front of the side gate were boarded up. He walked past the perimeter of the dusty sports ground to the staff quarters. Aziz went to the block in the far corner, walked up the first few steps and unlocked the iron security portal then the wooden door of his flat.
It was as he had left it six weeks previously, except for a film of dust on the surfaces. He stepped onto the stone veranda. A hill loomed before him, at its foot a road linking Tianshui to other towns in the county.
The new term was to start in four days. He would explore the town on his bicycle, check what new goods had arrived in the department stores, cycle to the outlying suburbs, testing his stamina on the Qinling hills. He would eat at the stalls that sprung up at night by the plaza, and think about the months ahead before his return to England.

*

“How long have you been in China?”
“A year and a half.” They discussed the answer, nodding and looking at him. One of them repeated what he had said in Mandarin.
“You miss your home?”
“A little. I went to London last summer.” Aziz and his pupils were standing by an artificial lake in People’s Park. He had a new class who came from the town. They were different from the ones living on campus who were mostly from peasant families in the countryside. After that morning’s lesson he had been invited to meet some of them later in the day. Three young women and two boys had turned up.
“You can come to my house.”
He looked at the woman who had given the sudden invitation. She had pouting lips on a thin face, short hair and watchful eyes. The others suggested something to her, she agreed. One of them explained to Aziz that she lived nearby and they would go to her home now.
They went to a flat in the first block just opposite the park. It was furnished almost like a store room, the bright sofas clashing with the shiny brown table and cabinet. The balcony looked onto the wall of the compound.
Aziz asked their hostess, “Who else lives here?”
“I alone. My parents live above, on the third floor.” She offered tea and fruit round the guests. Most of them had jobs and were taking classes part time. They started to leave.
As Aziz got up she turned to him, pointing at her friend. “She is coming here on Sunday for lunch. You come as well.”
Two days later he raced his ‘Flying Pigeon’ bicycle along the road above the riverbed. He swung left towards People’s Park, and stopped by the fruit stalls which had sprung up opposite the gates. He bought some oranges and went to the flat.
He knocked on the door. It was unlocked, he pushed it open. “Li Bing.” He called the name again. He waited. Someone was coming down the stairs. A man in a khaki uniform gestured for him to go in and followed. Aziz sat on a sofa.
The bedroom door was ajar, he could just see inside. A shocked face wearing glasses looked up then went out of view. Li Bing walked out yawning and went into another part of the flat. A few minutes later she came out.
“I am so sorry. I was not feeling well. I was still sleeping. I am sorry.”
He stammered, “It’s OK. If you’re ill, maybe I should come another time.”
She looked confused.
“I will go, and come on another day. You must rest.”
She laughed. “No, no. You stay and eat here.” She sat on another sofa.
“Who was the person wearing the uniform?”
“My brother. He is a military policeman. All my family is from the army. I went to a military school. My boyfriend is a soldier.”
“Is he coming today?”
“No, he is not in Tianshui. He is in Lanzhou. He likes to stay there.” She frowned. “I am so sorry I was sleeping.”
“It doesn’t matter. Where is your friend?”
Li Bing looked puzzled.
“Your classmate?”
“She could not come. Now, we will go upstairs.”
In the above flat Aziz met her father, mother, brother again, sister-in-law, and her little nephew. He handed over the oranges, they laughed. Aziz and Li Bing sat in the front room.
“Where is the other foreign teacher?”
“Margaret? She has gone to teach in the countryside.”
“She is brave.”
The others had eaten. Li Bing was not feeling well, so Aziz ate alone.
He cycled back to his flat later that afternoon. As he walked in, someone called his name and the door to the adjoining flat was unbolted.
A stout woman came in. “I’ve had a wonderful weekend. The school was perfect. No bus went there, we walked for two hours on a track over some hills, then this place had nothing. The children and teachers were practically in rags. They are why I came to China. At last, I’m getting to the people who need me. Now, you have to organise your trips to the countryside.” Aziz nodded slowly. “You’ll enjoy it and it’ll be good for you.”

*

“What are you doing this weekend?”
“I’m going to Xihe.” Li Bing repeated the place name, correcting his pronunciation so it was ‘shee –khuh’.
Aziz explained, “Two students are taking me to their old schools. I’ll give some classes.”
“It is a very poor place.” They had had dinner in her parent’s flat then come downstairs.
“It’ll be a good experience.”
She raised her eyebrows slightly then looked at him. “That jacket, it is not good.”
“It’s not a jacket. It’s a tracksuit top.”
She shook her head. “The shirt is nice.”
Aziz said, “You’re straining your eyes. Why don’t you wear your glasses?”
Li Bing said, “I don’t like to.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“You are silly.” They laughed then looked at each other.
He glanced outside at the wall then turned back. “You were going to show me your grammar book.”
There was a loud knock on the door. Li Bing walked towards it then came back and sat down. The knock was repeated.
Aziz asked, “Why don’t you open it?” She went and stood by her room. Aziz looked up at the encased chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Eventually, she went to the door. It was her father and some relatives who were collecting plants from the balcony.
Li Bing introduced Aziz to her aunt and cousin. It was time for him to go. She asked him to stay, but he made his excuses. He unlocked his bicycle in the dark compound and headed back to the lights of the college.

*

A tall figure was waiting under the archway which formed the southern gate of the campus. Two boys had left class early and were walking towards him.
“Hi Eric, hi Steve.” Aziz used the names he had given them. They walked onto the ridge above the riverbed then took a path past some plots towards a bridge holding a steady traffic of trucks and buses.
Steve flagged down a minibus. They shifted past the wide-eyed peasants, smoking or holding onto their bundles, and found some seats. The driver crunched the bus into gear, the engine wheezed.
They headed east. A young sentry stood casually alert at the gates of the military academy, two women were drying clothes on stones by the peasant houses, a small humped bridge gave a glimpse into the sandy valley, then a tree-lined stretch of highway took them out of Tianshui.
Aziz drifted into a half sleep as sunshine caressed the glass. A sudden jolt woke him. They had arrived by a village set on a slope. More peasants got on. One had three little monkeys on a strap tied round his shoulder. He sat in front of Aziz. The animals were wearing red waistcoats. They chattered noisily, one hung onto the back of the seat, baring its teeth.
The next valley was the only one with water, industrial scum collecting at the river edge. The land became flatter. They stopped at more villages before reaching the sparse streets of the urban centre of Xihe County. The bus emptied. The three travellers went and sat in a cleanly furnished noodle shack, open to the dusty road glinting in the afternoon sun.
Aziz asked, “When were you last in your hometown?”
Eric thought for a second. “It has been two months. Since the start of term.”
Steve smiled at Aziz. “And how long have you been away from your home?”
“Almost a year.” A few bicycles and the occasional farmer’s cart went by. “Is anyone else in your class from Xihe?” Eric mentioned a girl who was from a village further up the valley. All but a couple of their classmates came from villages in the south east of Gansu Province.
Aziz said, “We started at Tianshui at the same time.”
Steve nodded. “The first time I met you I did not understand anything you said. You spoke so fast.”
They were each brought a bowl of noodles, drowned in gravy. Aziz said, “We don’t know if this school is expecting us.”
Eric seemed untroubled. “The Dean has phoned them.”
They strolled down the road to a gateway which led into a yard. To one side was a block with a balcony across each floor. A white hut with a slanting roof stood opposite it. Stuck in the ground was a board with some lines in Chinese script then the words ‘Welcome to Aziz, foreign teacher of Tianshui Teachers College.’
A man appeared at the door of the hut, beckoning them in. A wooden table ran the length of the conference room, about fifty men and women were sitting or standing at the side, mostly wearing blue provincial suits. They stood and clapped. Aziz was directed to a chair in the middle, he gestured to Eric and Steve to join him. The room was awash with smiles. He nodded at the applause as it resounded round the small building.

*

Aziz walked round the classroom, checking the dialogues the students were supposed to be doing. He came to Li Bing who was scribbling something onto a scrap of paper. She quickly passed it to Aziz then turned to her friend. They pretended to be meeting for the first time.
He went to the front. “Now, I want you to imagine that you are meeting each other after five years.” The conversations started again. Aziz went to the back and looked at the note. It read: ‘Come to my home for dinner.’
As the bell rang for the end of class, they filed out, a few saying ‘goodbye’ to Aziz. Li Bing showed him another message but walked out without giving it to him. He followed her into the corridor. She put it in his hand then ran to her friends. As he went to the staff room he saw that she had written ‘6 o’clock’.
Later that day he cycled over.
She poured him some leafy tea. “I have something for you.” She handed him a slim case.
He opened it and took out the fountain pen. “Thank you.”
She said, “You will go back to your home soon. You must be happy.”
“I love China. But two years is a long time and I miss London.”
They went upstairs. Her father offered Aziz some strong wine. Li Bing explained that he didn’t drink alcohol. The elderly man repeated her sentence. She laughed. A Spanish football match was on television. Aziz watched it closely while he ate. Li Bing was amused at his reactions to the play.
“I’ve eaten here so many times. Why don’t you come and have dinner at my flat?”
“Me, alone?”
Aziz paused. “No, bring some of your classmates. We often have students around.”
“We will cook for you and Margaret.”
“Exactly."

*

“So, who have we got for dinner tonight?”
“Three students from the fee paying class. They’re bringing the food and doing the cooking.”
Margaret sat back. “How good is their English?”
Aziz replied, “One of them is good, the other two are hard work.”
“We’ll have to sing for our supper then.” There were voices outside Aziz’s flat. He went and opened the door. It was Li Bing and a boy and a girl from her class. They laughed and went straight into the kitchen. Aziz introduced them to Margaret while they cooked. The two foreign teachers watched them for a moment then returned to the front room.
Margaret said, “I’ll have to do this more often next term.”
“Are you sure you want this more than once a week?”
“No one’s replacing you, so I could do with the company.”
The students brought through some dishes then went back to the kitchen. Eventually, they sat down with their hosts.
Margaret looked up from her bowl. “This is lovely.” Li Bing translated for her friends.
Margaret chatted with Li Bing about how long she had been learning English and what her plans were. “At last, someone who wants to stay in Tianshui. You’re the first student I’ve met who doesn’t want to go to Beijing or Shanghai.” The conversation stumbled as Margaret asked if she wanted to be a teacher.
Aziz explained the question to Li Bing, who told Margaret that she worked in a bank. Margaret looked puzzled. Aziz continued that she already had a job with the economic planning bureau.
Margaret said, “Oh well. You can’t have everything.” She asked about the other two. The boy was a hairdresser, the girl lived in the grounds of a nearby factory where her parents worked and wanted to go south.
She said, “Aziz is a good boy.”
Margaret laughed. “He didn’t used to be.”
Aziz looked down, remembering the days of depression.
The girl said, “He should stay in China.”
Margaret turned to him. “Why don’t you stay one more term?”
His eyes widened. “I’m glad you want me to. But it’s time to move on.”
They played some simple language games. Aziz tried to pay them for the food but they would not take all of it, eventually settling for half the sum. He saw them out. Li Bing turned to him, their eyes met for a second, then she went down the steps and he shut the door.

*

The speeches had ended. The teacher who had organised the event stood at the front. She said, “Before we announce the winners, our foreign teacher, Aziz, will say something.” No one had warned him of this, but he knew it was likely. Margaret was away, teaching in the countryside.
He looked over the faces of seventy or so of his pupils, in the front row were members of the English Department. “First, I want to say that everyone who contributed tonight is a winner. It is difficult to give a speech in your own language, but to speak in front of people in a foreign tongue is a great achievement. So, congratulations to all 15 of the speakers tonight.
“Everyone spoke on the same topic, which was Hong Kong. These islands are returning to Chinese rule at the end of this year after being governed by Britain for 150 years. All the speakers talked about this.” A teacher sniggered, causing Aziz to do the same.
He looked up. “I have been to Hong Kong, and it is a very beautiful place. It is a place where black, white and yellow people live together. In my two years in China I have found that people talk about the past too much. You should not live in the past. You have a great future ahead of you. Hong Kong is your future.”
He went to his seat as they applauded his words. A colleague turned to him. “Very good.”

***