Zi’s
The Art of War
was written about 500 BC. The edition I had contained both Sun Zi’s words and commentary by — guess who? Cao Cao, the enemy general on the story I just heard. Cao Cao had written his comments about 750 years later. And there I was in an old teahouse tonight, listening to it all.
Lao Xu cut in on my thought. “That story gives us an expression that you will often hear in Chinese,Shan Da.
Cao chuan jie jian
. Its literal meaning is ‘Straw boat borrow arrows’, but the idea is that you use your opponent’s strengths against him.”
He sighed, “In China, our greatest strength is the people. But so often in our history, we fight among ourselves.”
As we rode home through the chilly evening we passed Tian An Men Square. The flowers piled on and around the Monument to the People’s Heroes in memory of Hu Yao-bang were still there.
So were the police.
What a tough morning in class today. Teacher Huang really went after me. I’m getting lazy with my tones, he said. It bugged me, especially since I knew he was right. I’ve been spending all my time looking around the city. But what the heck, I’m only learning Chinese for fun. He seems to think I want to be a diplomat.
One thing about school in China, it sure isdifferent. And most of the differences I don’t particularly like. I already wrote that school runs six days a week. There’s no discussion in class and you sit in your seat for the whole morning except for a ten minute break. In the Chinese schools you have to do exercises in the break, but in our school you get the whole ten minutes for yourself. Big deal.
Teachers here are revered. No one challenges them, even on an opinion, and of course no one even
dreams
of talking back. My teacher is called Huang Lao Shi. Huang means “yellow”. Lao Shi means “teacher”. That’s the form of address for men and women teachers. It sounds pretty funny to a Canadian. I wonder if Chinese kids have nicknames for their teachers, like Death Breath McKay, my geography teacher in grade nine. The guy could kill a crowd at one hundred metres. The Chinese government could have used him to clear out Tian An Men Square the other day.
Old Huang’s okay I guess, even though he got on my case this morning, telling me my pronunciation was
bu hao
, not good.
I got home at the usual time to find Dad and Eddie working away. Which means that they were sitting in the armchairs talking and taking notes, planning stuff. Which means Eddie was giving out a lot of orders. Gorbachev’s visit is coming up and all the news hounds in the city are working like mad. Sometimes I think they complicate things too much.
Shortly after lunch Lao Xu rushed in, lookingnervous. He held up a newspaper and started talking really fast.
Eddie calmed him down. I stayed in the room, worried, because I thought maybe something bad had happened to him personally.
“It’s the editorial in
Ren Min Ri Bao,”
Lao Xu said.
That’s the People’s Daily newspaper, the official mouthpiece for the Chinese Communist Party.
Eddie fired up the word processor and sat ready to take notes. He showed no interest in Lao Xu’s feelings.
Dad said softly, “Sit down, Lao Xu. Take your time. What’s up?”
For such an excitable guy, Dad can be a real calmer-downer when someone is hyper. It’s himself he can’t control sometimes.
Lao Xu twisted the paper in his hands. While he talked, Eddie typed.
“The editorial attacks the students who demonstrated in Tian An Men Square on the fifteenth. It says that the students are — here, let me read it — ‘promoting chaos’.”
Dad did his What’s The Big Deal frown. I certainly didn’t get it. Eddie kept typing, which meant that he did get it.
“I didn’t see anything bad when I was there, did you, Dad?” I said.
Lao Xu answered for him. “You couldn’t read the posters and banners, Shan Da. A few of them called for more democracy and an end to corruption in the
The Art of War
was written about 500 BC. The edition I had contained both Sun Zi’s words and commentary by — guess who? Cao Cao, the enemy general on the story I just heard. Cao Cao had written his comments about 750 years later. And there I was in an old teahouse tonight, listening to it all.
Lao Xu cut in on my thought. “That story gives us an expression that you will often hear in Chinese,Shan Da.
Cao chuan jie jian
. Its literal meaning is ‘Straw boat borrow arrows’, but the idea is that you use your opponent’s strengths against him.”
He sighed, “In China, our greatest strength is the people. But so often in our history, we fight among ourselves.”
As we rode home through the chilly evening we passed Tian An Men Square. The flowers piled on and around the Monument to the People’s Heroes in memory of Hu Yao-bang were still there.
So were the police.
What a tough morning in class today. Teacher Huang really went after me. I’m getting lazy with my tones, he said. It bugged me, especially since I knew he was right. I’ve been spending all my time looking around the city. But what the heck, I’m only learning Chinese for fun. He seems to think I want to be a diplomat.
One thing about school in China, it sure isdifferent. And most of the differences I don’t particularly like. I already wrote that school runs six days a week. There’s no discussion in class and you sit in your seat for the whole morning except for a ten minute break. In the Chinese schools you have to do exercises in the break, but in our school you get the whole ten minutes for yourself. Big deal.
Teachers here are revered. No one challenges them, even on an opinion, and of course no one even
dreams
of talking back. My teacher is called Huang Lao Shi. Huang means “yellow”. Lao Shi means “teacher”. That’s the form of address for men and women teachers. It sounds pretty funny to a Canadian. I wonder if Chinese kids have nicknames for their teachers, like Death Breath McKay, my geography teacher in grade nine. The guy could kill a crowd at one hundred metres. The Chinese government could have used him to clear out Tian An Men Square the other day.
Old Huang’s okay I guess, even though he got on my case this morning, telling me my pronunciation was
bu hao
, not good.
I got home at the usual time to find Dad and Eddie working away. Which means that they were sitting in the armchairs talking and taking notes, planning stuff. Which means Eddie was giving out a lot of orders. Gorbachev’s visit is coming up and all the news hounds in the city are working like mad. Sometimes I think they complicate things too much.
Shortly after lunch Lao Xu rushed in, lookingnervous. He held up a newspaper and started talking really fast.
Eddie calmed him down. I stayed in the room, worried, because I thought maybe something bad had happened to him personally.
“It’s the editorial in
Ren Min Ri Bao,”
Lao Xu said.
That’s the People’s Daily newspaper, the official mouthpiece for the Chinese Communist Party.
Eddie fired up the word processor and sat ready to take notes. He showed no interest in Lao Xu’s feelings.
Dad said softly, “Sit down, Lao Xu. Take your time. What’s up?”
For such an excitable guy, Dad can be a real calmer-downer when someone is hyper. It’s himself he can’t control sometimes.
Lao Xu twisted the paper in his hands. While he talked, Eddie typed.
“The editorial attacks the students who demonstrated in Tian An Men Square on the fifteenth. It says that the students are — here, let me read it — ‘promoting chaos’.”
Dad did his What’s The Big Deal frown. I certainly didn’t get it. Eddie kept typing, which meant that he did get it.
“I didn’t see anything bad when I was there, did you, Dad?” I said.
Lao Xu answered for him. “You couldn’t read the posters and banners, Shan Da. A few of them called for more democracy and an end to corruption in the
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