nose and pink lips. She had the whitest teeth I had ever seen. Her hair was a ball of frizzy curls in the shape of a tall cake. She was about my height, five foot five.
I realized that Takisha was a cripple. She limped from side to side as she walked. It amazed me that she didn’t act like a handicapped person. In China cripples would act timid and scared because they would be subjected to disrespect and vicious bullying. Takisha laughed loudly and freely.
I didn’t expect Takisha to treat me like an old friend, which made me feel wonderful and grateful.
“I am Takisha,” she said, opening her arms. “I am eighteen, and I am from Alabama.”
My English escaped me. All I could do was smile.
“Oh, gosh, is it A.Q., An-Qu, or An-Qui?” Takisha giggled. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Forgive me if I don’t pronounce your name correctly.”
I tried to figure out what she was saying. I took out my dictionary and said to her, “English. Help.”
“Where are you from?” Takisha asked, gesturing with her arms. “East, west, south, or north?”
I opened my
English 900 Sentences
book. “I name are … my name is …”
“I see, so you don’t speak English.” Takisha smiled broadly. “It’s okay. No problem. Now follow me. Where … are … you … from? Where, watch my mouth, wh …
ere
…” She pointed her hand at me. “Don’t look at your book. Look at me. Now tell me your home. Home. Do you understand? Home? Papa, mama, milk, dog. Do you understand what I mean?”
“No understand—”
“Hey, listen carefully!” Takisha pointed at herself. “Home Alabama.”
I pointed at her. “Your home.”
“That’s right! My home, Alabama. Now tell me yours. Your home.”
“Home? Do you mean h-o-m-e?”
Takisha laughed. “I mean your motherland—”
Yes, I knew the word
motherland
. It was one of the few slogans in English taught in China in 1972 during the visit of the American president Nixon. “I love my motherland” was taught along with “Long live Chairman Mao,” “Long live the Communist Party of China,” and “Albania is a great socialist country.”
“Motherland is China,” I said.
“Oh, you talk!”
“China, Papa, Mama, is China.”
“You’re from China! How wonderful! I want you to tell me all about China.”
“Me English poor.”
“You’ll learn.”
Takisha wanted to know how I had enjoyed America so far. I wished that I could have told her that I enjoyed air-conditioned rooms. I loved the flow of warm water from the faucet, I enjoyed sitting on a toilet, and of course the big moving room—the elevator. I loved the American city nights with the streets and buildings all ablaze. I couldn’t imagine the cost of electricity, though. Most of all I enjoyed Takisha, the way she accepted me without reservation.
Takisha wanted to know what had brought me to America, and what life was like for me in China. With the help of my dictionary, I composedand wrote down my answer: “It was like you are hung, your neck bone is breaking, but death doesn’t arrive.”
“What?” Takisha frowned.
Takisha wrote words for me to look up in my dictionary. This was how I discovered that she was studying to become a doctor. I asked what motivated her to study medicine. She replied that she wanted to find a cure for her mother, who was severely diabetic.
“My mother is in bad shape,” Takisha said. “You know what ‘bad shape’ means? Her doctor wants to cut off her legs. I said no way. I will not let anybody cut off my mother’s legs. ‘You will keep your legs,’ I told my mother. ‘I will be your doctor.’ ”
As I looked for words to express my admiration, I heard a ringing sound and saw that the room had a telephone. Takisha picked up the phone. “Excuse me, it’s my mother!”
“My roommate IQ is from China,” I heard Takisha say. “Hey, IQ, my mother says hello to you. Hey, wait a minute. Oops, her name is not IQ. It’s A.Q. A … An … Qui … Oh, never mind, I’m
I realized that Takisha was a cripple. She limped from side to side as she walked. It amazed me that she didn’t act like a handicapped person. In China cripples would act timid and scared because they would be subjected to disrespect and vicious bullying. Takisha laughed loudly and freely.
I didn’t expect Takisha to treat me like an old friend, which made me feel wonderful and grateful.
“I am Takisha,” she said, opening her arms. “I am eighteen, and I am from Alabama.”
My English escaped me. All I could do was smile.
“Oh, gosh, is it A.Q., An-Qu, or An-Qui?” Takisha giggled. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Forgive me if I don’t pronounce your name correctly.”
I tried to figure out what she was saying. I took out my dictionary and said to her, “English. Help.”
“Where are you from?” Takisha asked, gesturing with her arms. “East, west, south, or north?”
I opened my
English 900 Sentences
book. “I name are … my name is …”
“I see, so you don’t speak English.” Takisha smiled broadly. “It’s okay. No problem. Now follow me. Where … are … you … from? Where, watch my mouth, wh …
ere
…” She pointed her hand at me. “Don’t look at your book. Look at me. Now tell me your home. Home. Do you understand? Home? Papa, mama, milk, dog. Do you understand what I mean?”
“No understand—”
“Hey, listen carefully!” Takisha pointed at herself. “Home Alabama.”
I pointed at her. “Your home.”
“That’s right! My home, Alabama. Now tell me yours. Your home.”
“Home? Do you mean h-o-m-e?”
Takisha laughed. “I mean your motherland—”
Yes, I knew the word
motherland
. It was one of the few slogans in English taught in China in 1972 during the visit of the American president Nixon. “I love my motherland” was taught along with “Long live Chairman Mao,” “Long live the Communist Party of China,” and “Albania is a great socialist country.”
“Motherland is China,” I said.
“Oh, you talk!”
“China, Papa, Mama, is China.”
“You’re from China! How wonderful! I want you to tell me all about China.”
“Me English poor.”
“You’ll learn.”
Takisha wanted to know how I had enjoyed America so far. I wished that I could have told her that I enjoyed air-conditioned rooms. I loved the flow of warm water from the faucet, I enjoyed sitting on a toilet, and of course the big moving room—the elevator. I loved the American city nights with the streets and buildings all ablaze. I couldn’t imagine the cost of electricity, though. Most of all I enjoyed Takisha, the way she accepted me without reservation.
Takisha wanted to know what had brought me to America, and what life was like for me in China. With the help of my dictionary, I composedand wrote down my answer: “It was like you are hung, your neck bone is breaking, but death doesn’t arrive.”
“What?” Takisha frowned.
Takisha wrote words for me to look up in my dictionary. This was how I discovered that she was studying to become a doctor. I asked what motivated her to study medicine. She replied that she wanted to find a cure for her mother, who was severely diabetic.
“My mother is in bad shape,” Takisha said. “You know what ‘bad shape’ means? Her doctor wants to cut off her legs. I said no way. I will not let anybody cut off my mother’s legs. ‘You will keep your legs,’ I told my mother. ‘I will be your doctor.’ ”
As I looked for words to express my admiration, I heard a ringing sound and saw that the room had a telephone. Takisha picked up the phone. “Excuse me, it’s my mother!”
“My roommate IQ is from China,” I heard Takisha say. “Hey, IQ, my mother says hello to you. Hey, wait a minute. Oops, her name is not IQ. It’s A.Q. A … An … Qui … Oh, never mind, I’m
Similar Books
