Saturday 9 June 2012

Extracts from an essay on Early Chinese Experience in the UK


Having written a ten thousand word dissertation on the topic 'Early Chinese Immigration to the United Kingdom and its formation through the 'yellow peril' and British racism', I became aware of the effects that these descriptions of nationalities can have on other groups. With hindsight, I would rephrase 'racism' to 'prejudice' to capture assumptions, animosities and micro-aggressions that would not fall foul of being daubed a "racist" act. 

I am intending to revisit the essay and update it to include more modern discourses. Here are extracts from my conclusion.
At the start of early Chinese immigration, the seamen were grouped and housed according to ethnicity by law. As I have argued above, Chinatowns were formed as both a comfort for the isolated and as a reaction to protect against external hostility. Their insular nature bred fears of suspicious activities, and gave Sax Rohmer’s Fu Machu stories plausibility. Even British attempts to stamp out opium affected changes in the Chinese communities, producing underground opium dens perpetuating the image of a vast syndicate.  
British xenophobia forced the Chinese community into opportunistic occupational niches, like laundering clothes, and in time, takeaways. This engendered the impression of Chinese uniformity and conformed to the Yellow Peril’s notion of homogenous racial invasion. One way in which the Chinese settlers of the 19th Century had freedom was their potential to cohabit and marry local women, although this embittered local English men who already had grievances over jobs and pay. Often these mixed race relationships resulted in boycotts, or even erupted into physical attacks. 
The activities of the NSFU continually demonised the Chinese seamen, despite making up only 5000 of the total 45,000 Asiatic mariners. The prevailing discriminatory milieu during and after the Great War provided the backdrop with which to further smear the Chinese immigrants, on the basis of opium addiction and "corruption" of white females. It was feared that Chinese amoral habits would spread, and as a result, repatriation and deportation decimated an already small minority.  
Britain is now a country where nationality is no longer an arbitrary matter of appearance, or the spot of earth where one has the destiny to plop out onto, as the censuses of the nineteenth century assumed. Let the lessons of the early Chinese immigrants show how destructive xenophobia and racial stereotypes can be to society. 







UFO in My Eyes

This my perspective on Guo XiaoLu's UFO in Her Eyes, a 2011 film based upon her very own book. As I was working behind the scenes at the Terracotta Film Festival this year, I actaully got to meet, and practice chinese with, this remarkable author and director. 


Obviously, Guo Xiaolu was born in China. In the mainland. The motherland. And its themes permeate and influence her work, providing a social commentary of life in the People's Republic. However, due to the nature of her work, it is censored in China; the place that 'feeds' Guo Xiaolu's imagination cannot in return be nourished by her creativity. She said it would be a joy to show her work to her mother, let alone her compatriots. Perhaps it is through the pirate DVD trade that her work will reach the Chinese people.

I have seen many of the mainstream Chinese films that manage reach Western audiences; Hero, Crouching Tiger, The Banquet, The Promise, House of Flying Daggers, Infernal Affairs,  Lust|Caution, and so on. But I have never seen anything like UFO in Her Eyes. You can tell that Guo was originally an athour before becoming a director; there is a purpose and a passion to this work that carries a symbolism I have rarely seen in Cinema. 

It is a social critique wrapped in a love story, tied up with a bow of comedy and put in a gift bag of sci-fi. And it works. What's even more astonishing is that the film only contains three professional actors; the leading Kwok Yun, town Cheif and the American character of Steve Frost. Every other person in this film is untrained, which is incredible considering the numbers that were mobilised for some of the scenes, and the depth of some of the acting. I was particularly moved by the old man who runs the carp pond, a close-up of his face transmitted a real sense of exasperation and sadness. 

Guo has been extremely clever in her making of this film. She managed to parody the modern Chinese desire for development and Westernisation in a way that is comical and yet unnerving. The town chief chops down the tree under which Kwok Yun believed she saw the UFO to turn it into a tourist site, what was once an idyllic countryside village takes on the tacky hallmarks of rapid development. UFO is packed with such poignant moments, equally balanced by humour. My favourite has to be the UFO hotel, and the hideous western suits of the town chiefs secretary.



Guo's work makes circuits around international film festivals, therefore, trying to see it first hand in the cinema is probably not going to happen. However, if you do find such a film festival, buy a ticket for UFO in her eyes. I highly recommend this film if you have an interest in modern China. It has one hand firmly on the Chinese pulse, but is so imaginative that it is unlike any other film from the mainland.

The Nineteen Old Poems

Despite starting a blog to 'legitimately' procrastinate, it occurred to me that at some point I should start revising. One third of my Literary Chinese exam is based on one of the Nineteen Old poems, which I have to translate. Therefore, why not translate it and share the joy of ancient Chinese poetry with you all?

The Nineteen Old Poems differ from the poems of the Book of Odes (诗经 also known as the Classic of Poetry or the Book of Songs), which holds the oldest collection of Chinese poetry going back some 3000 years. The Nineteen poems were never erudite enough for the scholars to learn, as academic Chinese poetry is always rich with references to other poems. Furthermore, the poems of the Book of Odes have a four syllable line (and four character line as characters are only one syllable), making it rhythmic and easy to quote. The Nineteen Old Poems date from roughly the end of the 2nd Century AD, and came from the romantic and untethered South of China. Moreover, they possessed a pentasyllabic line structure,  developing from the folklike four character nature of the Book of Odes.


Many thanks to professor Sally Church of Wolfson College for reviewing my translations.


(第一) Marching On and On. 

Onwards, and again, pressing onwards,
From you, my life is separated,
Both gone our own ways, more than 10,00 li
Each at a different end of heaven's shore.
This path is long and winding,          (lit. blocked and long)
Can we be safe in the knowledge that we shall meet again?
Hunnish horses lean into the Northern wind,  
As the birds of Yue nestle in the Southern trees. 
The day we parted, daily shrinks into the past,   
The robes I wear grow looser day by day.
Floating clouds veil a burning sun,    
The traveller does not contemplate returning.
Thinking of you, it renders me aged,
Ah! The harvest moon! Suddenly aware that the year grows late
I yield, and will not speak again,
Please try hard to take care yourself. 


(第二) Green, green, river bank grasses *

Green, green, river bank grasses,
Lush, lush, are the willows in the garden.
Resplendent is the lady in the tower,   (lit. 盈盈 overflowing, I'm guessing this means her beauty has a wide reach, capturing those who see her)
Radiant, so radiant, before the window lattice.
Beautiful, beautiful, her vermeil makeup,
Softly, softly, she extends a white hand.
Once she sang in a house of maidens,
Now she's a vagrant's mistress,
The wanderer left and does not return,
An empty bed is hard to bear alone. 

(第三)Green, green, the cypress on the mound *

Green, green, the cypress on the mound,
Numerous are the stones in the mountain stream.
Man dwells between heaven and Earth, 
Suddenly like a traveller from afar. 
A cup of wine to enjoy with one another,
For now we shall pour liberally, do not let the drink stop. 
Drive the chariot, spur on the stubborn horse,
Travel and make merry, onwards to Wan and Luo,
To be in Luoyang, how vibrant! How full!
Where the officials run rings around each other,
And long thoroughfares lace with tapering alleys.
The King and his nobles have mansions and houses,
Two palaces gaze at each other from afar,
With a pair of watchtowers, more than a hundred chi tall.
Feast to your fill, delight to your heart’s content,
O sorrow, how can it oppress us? (lit. Sorrow, how that which approaches?)

(第四) Today We Hold a Splendid Feast *

Today we hold a splendid feast,
Such joy is hard to describe.
Strum the zither until we erupt into free song,
This new sound is wonderful and touches the heart (there could be a sense of ‘in wonder it touches the heart’)
Call upon the virtuous to sing noble lyrics (Or ‘Let virtue be sung aloud’)
Those who know songs will hear their truth.
Hearts in unison, that which we desire is the same,
Although our desires remain unspoken. 
Man lives but one lifetime, 
Fleeting like a whirlwind of dust.
Why not whip up your high horses,
Let us be the first to seize the key roads and fords.
What is there to staying poor and lowly?
Nothing but a harsh life, long in suffering and bitterness. 

(第五)A Tall Tower Stands Northwest

In the Northwest there is a tall tower,
Its roof stands among the drifting clouds.
Woven strands of fine silk adorn the windows,
A pavilion three stories high.
From above comes the sound of string and song,
The music, how melancholy.
Who is able to compose such a song?
None other than the wife of Qi Liang. 
A clear note, following the breath of the wind, (商 is a note of the pentatonic scale)
In the middle of the melody, she falters (徘徊 is to dither, to hestitate)
One strum, followed by three sighs.
O sorrow, to have too much grief (慷慨 kang kai persistent sadness)
Do not pity the suffering of the one who sings,
Only be pained, for those who know her song are few.
Wishing to be a pair of calling cranes,
Spreading their wings and flying to great heights.



(第六) Crossing the river, I pick the hibiscus

Crossing the river, I pick the hibiscus,
The orchid marshes have many fragrant grasses.
To whom do I wish to give what I have plucked?
The one who I think of travels distant roads,
Does he still look back to gaze at his old home?
The road is long, limitless and vast.
Sharing one heart, yet living apart,
A painful grief until my aged end.


(第九) There is a Strange Tree in the Courtyard

There is a curious tree in the courtyard,
From green leaves emerge intoxicating flowers.
I pull down a branch, and break off its glory,
Wishing to give it to the one that I long for.
The fresh scent fills my heart, infuses my robes,
But the road is long, there is no way to deliver it.
Is this gift worth the giving?
Only moved by how long ago we parted.


(第八)  Frail, Frail, Lone Growing Bamboo

Frail, frail, lone growing bamboo (冉冉 also means gradually; ‘slowly, the bamboo grows by itself’)
Knotting its roots on the slopes of Tai Mountain.
With you, my Lord, I am your new bride,
A trailing plant, I am close to you like 女萝 (vines, creepers, moss)
(女萝 doesn’t seem to have a direct english translation, although it seems to be a synonym for 松萝, of which I have found an image, and it only has a latin name of Quamoclit Pennata)
A vine grows in its season,
As Man and Wife marry at the right time.  
One thousand li apart, yet married,
Far, far away, separated by mountain slopes.
Longing for you makes me old,
Your chariot, why is it so delayed?
The fragrant flowers of the orchids are but a torment,
Full of beauty, reflecting a glowing brightness.
If the season passes and the flowers are not picked,
They will wither with the autumn grasses  
My Lord possess such high morals,
What should a lowly woman like me do?

(第九) There is a Strange Tree in the Courtyard *

There is a curious tree in the courtyard, 
From green leaves emerge intoxicating flowers.
I pull down a branch, and break off its glory,
Wishing to give it to the one that I long for.
The fresh scent fills my heart, infuses my robes,
But the road is long, there is no way to deliver it. 
Is this gift worth the giving?
Only moved by how long ago we parted. 

(第十) Far, far away the the Cow-Herder star *

Far, far away the cow herder star,
Bright, so bright, is the Girl Weaver,
Softly, softly, her fair, slender hands moving to and fro,
Clack! clack! Working the shuttle of her loom.
Even by the day’s end her work is not done,
Her tears fall like raindrops. 
The Milky Way runs clear and shallow,
Parted from each other, though the distance is short.
Glistening, the river fills the space between them,
Fated to gaze but not able to speak. 

(第十一)  I Turn the Carriage yoke and Set Off

Turning the carriage, I draw it on a long journey,
To somewhere far distant, crossing waters and long roads.
I gaze around me, how vast and desolate!
The Eastern wind shakes the heads of the grasses. 
Of all that I encounter, nothing is ancient,
Can there be a place where one must not age so fast?
To rise and fall, each has his own time,
A good standing (success) is bitter when it comes too late.
Man is neither made of metal nor of stone,
How then can one truly live forever?
Suddenly, you’ll follow the changing of all things,
Take glory and reputation to be eternal (take as treasure).


(第十二) The Eastern Wall is High and Long 

The Eastern Wall is high and long,
Meandering, winding back upon itself.
The swirling wind sweeps up the dust,
Around the Autumn grasses, lush and green.
The four seasons change once more,
Harvest sunsets, how fast they pass!
The falcon harbours a bitter heart,
While the crickets suffer; cramped and crowded.
Let go, discard your emotion and ambition,
Why bind yourself up in knots?
There are many fine women in Yan and Zhao,
The beautiful have complexions like jade.
One is covered by petticoats of fine silk,
Standing before the door composing a clear melody.
How mournful is the sound;
The strings are tense, knowing how to urge on the instrument.
A rush of emotion is raised in the middle of the song,
To herself, she lightly hums,
Wishing to be a pair of soaring swallows,
Taking clay to build a nest under your roof.


(第十三)  I Drive my Chariot from the Upper East Gate *

I drive my chariot from the Upper East Gate,
Gazing into the distance to the tombs North of the city wall.
How mournful the white poplars are,
Pine and cypress trees press in upon the broad road.
Below, the dead of old lie recumbent,
Silently the long night draws in. (杳杳 yao3 has a sense of silent, out of sight, creeping in)
Submerged in sleep below the Yellow Springs, (黄泉 huangquan is a synonym for the underworld)
One thousand years? They will not awaken in eternity.
Vast are the changes of Yin and Yang,
Our destined years are like the morning dew.
And a lifetime is but a fleeting residence, (人生 a man’s life is but a brief sojourn)
Even the oldest are without the resilience of metal and stone. (sturdiness, steadfastness, etc)
Aeons end and are ushered in, (万岁 ten thousand years in turn come and go)
Neither the worthy nor the wise can begin to count/fathom/reckon. 
Through medicines, some seek immortality,
For many, the drugs become that which harms them. 
This cannot compare to drinking exquisite wines,
And being clothed in silks; fine and plain.

(第十四) Day by day, the departed are more distant

Those who leave grow further away each day,  (去者 ‘those who leave’ or ‘the dead’?)
While those who come are more cherished/dear day by day. (来着 is literally ‘those who come’, but ‘those who stay/remain’ provides a better parallel to ‘those who leave’ in the previous line)
Leave the city gate and look out, 
All you’ll see are mounds and graves.
Ancient tombs, when ploughed, return to fields,
Pine and cypress trees are felled for firewood.
The white poplars sway heavy with a mournful wind,
So melancholy, enough grief to kill a man.
I long to return; my hometown, my village,
Wishing to go back, but it is a journey without cause. 

(第十五) Man’s years fall short of one hundred *

The life of man does not last one hundred years,
But our harboured grief persists for a thousand.
Days are brief, yet in bitterness the night is long,
Why not go wandering by candlelight?
For happiness, now is the time to act, 
How can we wait for the future?
Fools scrimp and save,
Only to be ridiculed by their descendants.
The immortal Wang Zi-Qiao 王子乔
How hard it is to match him!

(第十六) Bitterly Cold, the Year is Ending

Bitterly cold, the year is ending,
The crickets chirp despondently at dusk.
In the cold wind, persistent and bleak,
The traveller trembles in want of clothes.
The embroidered quilt was left behind at Luopu, 
My companion, also separated from me.
I dwell alone, weary throughout the night,
In dreams I see the radiance of your face.
You are only a liaison from long-ago,
In vain, you pulled me up onto the marriage chariot.
Wishing to receive my normally elusive smile,
Hand in hand, we returned sharing a carriage.
Since that time, you have not needed a moment,
Never again visiting my chamber.
Without light, the falcon glides,
How could I too soar upon the wind?
A fleeting glance must carry my wish,
Straining my neck so we can gaze at each other from afar.  
I merely depend upon these haboured feelings of pain,
Letting my tears fall, dampening my chamber doors. 


(第十七) The Cold Air Arrives in the First month of Winter 

In the first month of Winter, the cold air arrives,
How cruel and unforgiving the North wind is!
In grief, one comes to know how long a night can be,
I lift my head to gaze at the innumerable constellations.
On the fifteenth, the bright moon is full,
By the twentieth, the toad and rabbit have waned.
A traveller came from afar,
Bringing me a letter.
It began, “forever I will think of you”,
Ending, “though long we be parted”.
I carry the letter with me, treasuring it in my sleeve,
After three years, the words have still not faded.
With my whole heart, I cling to such a little thing, 
And I fear that you will never know.

(第十八) A guest comes from afar 

A traveller comes from afar,
Leaving me a length of silk.
Both gone our own ways, more than 10,000  li
Yet my lover’s heart is unchanged. 
The pattern was coloured with pairs of mandarin ducks,
I made it into a lover’s quilt. 
Holding it, filling it with endless thoughts of each other,
Hemming it, so too our bond will never break.
Like glue cast onto lacquer,
Who could ever part the two?


(第十九)  The Bright Moon - How it gleams!

The bright moon - how it glistens! (gleams, shimmers, glows, etc)
Illuminating the weave and weft of my bed curtain. 
In worry, I cannot sleep,
Lifting my gown slightly, I rise and pace.
A traveller’s journey, although they say it has its joys,
Nothing can compare to an early return home. 
Out of the door, I am alone in uncertainty, 
My anxieties and wishes, whom do I share them with?
I take one last look, return and enter my chamber,
Tears fall, moistening my clothes. 

If you want to read more of the Nineteen Old Poems, or find the Chinese for them, the following site has all nineteen as well as literal translations.