A 60ish Chinese woman with the short-hair 'fashionable' (by dint of practicality) in rural communities yells into a tiny pink mobile phone, her high-pitched bark piercing through the low-level hubbub of the Departures lounge. A hundred heads look up in surprise at the disturbance.
A Spanish girl perched two seats away from me looks on, her mouth shocked open. When the waiting Chinese and experienced China travellers lose interest and return to their books, newspapers and conversations, she looks around as if in disbelief that nobody is breaking up this undefended sonic assault. She catches my eye and I smile and shrug.
A layperson might get the impression that the woman is having an argument upon which the fate of humanity itself depends on her outshouting her antagonist. Two years in China have taught me that this impression is wrong. This was a normal conversation conducted at a normal volume, and I look for the words that encapsulate the unfamiliarity with modern communications technology; difference in social norms; and the inflection of tone found amoung certain social classes that will explain this.
The words are, in short, 农民, but I decide that the English translation of "peasant" sounds much too harsh. Instead, I move to give the more direct translation "rural-person" but this seems even more derogatory. In the end, I just give another half-shrug. The Spanish girl shrugs back, then returns her gaze to the shouting while a look of horrified fascination creeps back across her face.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
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