Archive for August, 2006

This is a beautiful and romantic personal story from Rebecca Jane, who emailed me a few weeks ago.

She writes:

My English name is Rebecca Jane; my Chinese name is Zhang
Bei-qi. I grew up in an American town outside of Chicago, Illinois.
In the Midwest where I grew up, about the only association my
community made with China was take-out food and fortune cookies. When
I was 21-years-old, I met a man who introduced me to Chinese language.
Nine months after meeting, we married. Thus began my fusion journey.

My fusion story is a romance, so it contains fair doses of love
and disappointment. I can promise you the tension did not heat up
over different languages or crossing cultures. My husband and I
proved adaptable, wise, and agile in clearing those hurdles. The
tension heated up when I attempted to go where I discovered there are
no real boundaries or borders—I attempted to create art and beauty.

I had been married to Yong-xiang for less than a year when
we’d agreed that I would travel to China to meet his parents, whom he
hadn’t seen in eight years. He didn’t have a green card and was
attending law school. My solo journey was the best arrangement we
could make, and I wanted to meet my in-laws. They welcomed me to
Guangzhou in April 1999. I’ll never forget my first car ride through
those crowded streets. The gridlock. My intense desire to be able to
read every sign in every shop window. ‘I will stay in China,’ I
thought ‘until I become literate here.’

I fulfilled that promise. My mother-in-law read to me from
children’s readers. She read the romantic novel Hong Lou Meng and the
strange ghost stories of Pu Songling. I focused, practiced, and
labored, wrote Chinese characters every day, looked everything up in
my dictionaries thrice.

I surprised myself when I started writing my own creative
fiction in the Chinese language. While living in Guangzhou, I secured
a job teaching English at a nearby university. My students submitted
impressive English essays to me. I was astonished by their expressive
ability with the English language. As a gesture both humble and
proud, I showed them my efforts to write a short story in Chinese.
Sitting in a circle with nine Chinese students who helped me edit and
rewrite that story was the most profound collaborative experience of
my life.

To this day I have not found another audience or institution
interested in my efforts to write fiction in Chinese. I have only
written a couple of stories and have given up the pursuit to focus on
writing in English. I have put the idea on the back burner. But I am
hoping one day to return to my bi-lingual creative writing.

Here is a prose poem I wrote while living in China. It is
called “Raindance in Guangzhou.”

The rain echoes; it falls in strings that vibrate forever. I am
listening for your notes. Do you stretch toward me and wrap around
like the wind? Or do you strum in the heart of the rolling thunder?
But what of these wordless sounds? I want to write to you; I want to
write with you, but I want to speak to you in a language no one
understands. Even more, I desire to listen to you. I sit on my bed
with my legs crossed, my head drops. I have closed my eyes. My hands
cover my ears. When my elbows touch in front of me, my knees also
fold into my body as naturally as hands folding together in prayer. I
am curled up in this way, and all noises wash over me like water
around a rock: brooms lifting dust, people breathing behind dust
masks, men spitting out nicotine throats, buses hiccuping fuel, a
shirtless beggar crying at the road’s edge with his body curving
toward a hole in the center of his chest, a motorcyclist avoiding a
pothole and just missing slamming into a busload of people who worry
about pickpockets, the voice-over on the bus shouting out the stop and
more people shoving in and pushing their way out, a guard standing
watch at this gate shouts something to the guard watching that gate—he
removes a lighter from his pocket and tosses it to his comrade—another
man lighting a cigarette, children’s running feet carry them to the
shade to cover them from the fiery sun, bicycles clapping their tires
over hot pavement, a crowd cheering for an approaching parade:
millions of wild rabbits jumping followed by a dancing dragon
swerving, the clashing, the drum beating—a sweet voice calls to me,
“Beiqi, Ni kan yi kan!” Look. I see sun flickering in the dragon’s
eye, white fire swirling around a dark spot, the drum sends tremors
through my entire body; Mama says, “Beiqi, ni e la ma? Wo men hui jia
ba!” Hungry? Let’s go home. We follow some stray rabbits down the
narrow lanes, and then comes the rain with drops as bis as dragon’s
eyes. Our hair sticks to our necks and we drip with the sky’s grief,
so at home Mama combs through my hair until it is dry. Then she makes
soup with flowers and green vegetables; we drink rice wine and eat
bitter melon, winter mushrooms, grass mushrooms, cabbage, corn, white
gourd, sea cucumber, rice, snow peas, carrots, bai cai, and turnips.
Then Baba’s hand wraps around the bottle and he pours me another glass
of wine saying, “He jiu! Drink wine.” As if those two words are an
epic poem. He tells me a story about the wine being brewed in some
far off northern place. My mind wanders, and I think of his enormous
hands, hands that can tell a thousand stories far better than his
words can. I wish I could use his hands as pillows at night and fall
asleep to the sound of the blood rushing through them—and I am still
as a rock, listening, hearing thunder within, hearing you.

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You can visit Rebecca Jane’s blog at http://rjaneflashfiction.blogspot.com

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Find out how to tell your story on Fusion View - go to the Announcements section in the middle sidebar of the Fusion View homepage at www.fusionview.co.uk and click on Tell Us Your Fusion Story.

The magic of books is that you can be in two places at once – physically sitting wherever you are, in your living room or on the beach and also, wherever the words on the page take you: Africa, Asia, Narnia, the past or the future.

I’ve been working on Chapter Two of my memoir, Iced Tea and Laksa. Chapter Two is entitled “Makan”, a Malay word meaning food, a meal and to eat. (Yes, you spotted it, there is a them going on here – I may be living in London but I haven’t forgotten my very Malaysian passion for food!). I was sitting in my living room in my suburban house in South London, tapping away at my laptop. It was a hot, muggy Saturday last week. Outside, my poor garden was wilting in the dry heat, a victim of the hosepipe ban in this drought.

In my mind, I was back in my grandparents house in Taiping in Malaysia. It was a hot, glaring morning and I was cycling with my brother and sister, looking up at the puff ball clouds and feeling the blaze of the sun on my skin. I remembered how my grandma would call us for lunch, “Children, come – makan!” and how we’d sit round the table with my parents, grandparents and great-grandparents. While my grandma said grace, we would sit quietly, our heads bowed, waiting to say “amen” so we could eat.

And in the meantime, the food would be there on the table, steaming and smelling delicious. Sesame chicken, fried pork with potatoes, fish curry, fried kangkong with chilli. A huge bowl of fluffy white rice. And we would wait, peeking at the food from under our bowed heads, our tummies rumbling, waiting, waiting. When would we get to “amen”?

My partner Angie came in just then, that Saturday in South London. “Shall we have lunch?”

I jumped up from my laptop. “Oh, yeah!”

I was absolutely starving. “What’s for lunch?”

“I thought I’d make a salad…”

“A salad?!” Dry, crispy bits of lettuce that would leave me starving after a whole bowl of munching and crunching?!

I said, “We’ve got that left-over chicken and ginger I made last night.”

“We’re saving that for dinner tonight.”

“Let’s have it now! I’ll make something else for dinner.”

Who can live without a microwave these days? Five minutes later, we sat down to steaming hot chicken with garlic and ginger and fluffy rice. I laughed, “Amen!”

This blog is not political so I do not normally have any posts on political subjects. The film today is of George Bush “singing” the U2 song Sunday Bloody Sunday and I have to show it because it is a brilliant piece of editing and dubbing that will make you laugh and applaud the skill of the person who made the movie, whatever you think of Bush.

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What does it take to become the Vidal Sassoon of Malaysia?

In this podcast I talk to Winnie Loo, founder and creative director of A Cut Above salon, how she built up her brand to become the Vidal Sassoon of Malaysia. You can also get the chance to win a copy of her motivational book A Cut Above, Built on Hard Work, True Grit and a Pair of Scissors - details below.

Winnie built up her hairdressing salon, A Cut Above, over 30 years from a small unit in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia to become the premier brand in hair styling in Malaysia. She has opened the A Cut Above Hairdressing Academy, a training centre of excellence for stylists in Malaysia and across Asia. She is also a motivational speaker and author.

I spoke to Winnie on the phone from Kuala Lumpur.

You can listen to the podcast with the embedded player below.

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Or, you can listen to this and other Fusion View podcasts by clicking here.

You can also receive this and future Fusion View Podcasts free via iTunes.

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Win a Copy of Winnie’s book: A Cut Above, Built on Hard Work, True Grit and a Pair of Scissors

Winnie has offered three copies of her book A Cut Above, Built on Hard Work, True Grit and a Pair of Scissors for the Fusion View prize draw. For a chance to win, all you have to do is become an email subscriber to Fusion View. Subscription is free and I will not use your email address for any other purpose.

For more details on how to become a subscriber and win a copy of Winnie’s book, click here - plus more on my subscription policy.

Winnie Loo, founder and creative directof of A Cut Above Salon has offered 3 copies of her motivational book A Cut Above: Built on Hard Work, True Grit and a Pair of Scissorsto be won!

Listen to my interview with Winnie here.

• To get a chance to win a copy of Winnie’s book, subscribe to this blog. Subscribe now.

• Subscription is free and you will receive free email notifications whenever this blog is updated. You will automatically be entered into the prize draw to win a copy of the A Cut Above story and also all future prize draws (unless otherwise stated). For more about how to subscribe/ unsubscribe and my subscription policy,click here.

• The closing date for this prize draw is 31 August 2006. You can still subscribe after that date and you will automatically be entered into the next prize draw.
  • Please read the Rules of the prize draw below.
  • Yes, please enter me into the prize draw - I want to subscribe now. Click here to subscribe now.
  The Rules for the prize draw
  1. The closing date for this draw is 31 August 2006. Within two weeks of that date, 3 winners will be picked at random from the list of subscribers.
  2. I will notify the winners by separate emails and ask for your name and land address to which to send the prize. I will be entitled to assume that the name and address given is the name and address of the winning subscriber and I will not knowingly post the prize to any other person.
  3. When I receive a winner’s land address, I will post the prize to them and delete their land address from my records.
  4. I will post the name of the winners on this blog (but not the land address or email address) .
  5. I will not enter into any other correspondence or discussion regarding the winners or regarding this or any prize draw and my decision on the winners and prizes is final. You may not substitute the prize offered for anything else.
  6. I will post the prizes by the public postal system. I am not liable for any acts or omissions of the postal services in the UK or any other country.
  7. Where the address is not in the UK, I am not liable for any taxes, duties, or customs or excise or import requirements that may be applicable in the country of receipt nor for ensuring compliance with any other laws, including but not limited to laws relating to copyright, censorship or any other matters that may arise regarding or in connection with the prize. These remain the liability of the recipient and it is the responsibility of the recipient to ensure compliance with the laws of their country.
  8. By subscribing / entering this prize draw, you are confirming to me that you are over 18 or that you have the permission of your parent or guardian to subscribe/ enter this draw.
  9. Your email address will remain on the subscription list (unless you unsubscribe) and will be entered into all future prize draws (unless otherwise stated). For my subscription policy, click here.

David Grey is a filmmaker and former sociologist, psychotherapist and teacher. He is the founder of Village Film and the Dog and Hat Film Society, based in South London. He contributes this thought-provoking piece to the Fusion Stories series.

David writes:

This is a great project. What fascinates me is the assumption that people have “a” (sic) “culture from their country of origin” and that they can “live in another culture”. How does this apply to me?

I was born in (French-speaking) Senegal, first went to a (French) school in Finland. Grew up alternating between London and parts of France, where I was educated bilingually. I could have taken French nationality having been born in Senegal. “France” was of course a construct based on conquest and the repression of languages and cultures in Brittany, the Languedoc, Provence, and Corsica. Judging by my grandparents, I am 3/4 Welsh and 1/4 English, yet I think of myself as English, as in the Cricket Test.

English being a linguistic fusion of several different peoples speaking similar but different branches of the Germanic languages, themselves a branch of the Indo-European languages, linking peoples from India to the Atlantic in a common linguistic tradition. I grew up within a family divided between Lancashire and Yorkshire / Derbyshire parents. At school I was mocked for having a “northern accent”. When visiting relatives on Merseyside, I was mocked for being a “Cockney”. Whatever I “am” now, I also think of myself as a “South Londoner” and a “European”.

My son has me and an “English” mother. Her father was a Polish Jew who fled to Russia then London in the last war. Her mother is a Swiss of Germanic background, but also Jewish, and of intermediate Russian origin. And speaks French. And has dual UK / Swiss nationality, not to mention the right to settle in Israel via that country’s law of return. (As does my son and his mother)

Please can you tell me what is the “culture from my country of origin”? And am I or am I not “living in another culture”?

Ditto my son? As a Jew he is rooted in a 3,000 year old middle eastern culture. And would doubtless qualify for extermination in any future Nazi state. And he supports Chelsea and says “wicked!” and eats bacon ‘cos he likes it.

My conclusion: MOST if not ALL of us have “fusion” stories to tell.

During the Third Reich a large number of people were killed who had not even known they were “Jewish”, because grandparents or parents had converted and they had not been informed of their origin, hence a bit of a dual shock on the train to Auschwitz. Being inclusive, the Nazis exterminated people with a Jewish father and non-Jewish mother, even though within the Jewish tradition that made them “goyim” or non-Jews.

“England” (formerly Wessex, Mercia etc.), “Great Britain” (formerly England, Scotland and Wales) and “United Kingdom” (GB + Northern Ireland - itself a fusion of Irish, Scots and British, with some Viking genes thrown in) are ALL fusion concepts, BEFORE anyone comes here from anyone else. And many Cornish people argue they do not belong in any of those constructs.

Then, to take you as an example, you don’t have to spend long studying “Chinese” history to discover that “Chinese” is also a fusion construct, even before people migrate to Malaysia etc., and on elsewhere. And which is your country of origin - China or Malaysia?

Did you know that Icelanders reveal overwhelming mitochondrial DNA (passed from the mother) with Scottish origin, indicating that the original Icelanders were made up of Norse men and Scottish women. But then “Scottish” is a concept that refers now to an alleged nation North of England, but originally “Scottii” was the Roman / Latin name given to a tribe from the Irish island who conquered what is now Argyll.

Humans have been a fusion species since we started wandering out of the Rift Valley. Palaeontologists are still arguing whether or not we used to mate with the Neanderthals!

Written by Fusion View Guest Blogger: David Grey

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You can view the 5 minute version of David’s film about political prisoners the Grenada 17, Here’s Some They Locked Up Earlier, at the Channel 4 documentary site:

http://www.channel4.com/fourdocs/film/film-detail.jsp?id=8061

If you are a writer aiming to have your book published in the UK, this is your chance to put a question to a UK Literary Agent.

It can be confusing for a new writer trying to send out their novel for the first time, especially if you are based outside the UK. Should I go via a literary agent or submit direct to the publisher? How do you find an agent? What format should I submit my manuscript in?

I am interviewing an established London-based literary agent for a Fusion View podcast in two weeks time and I am inviting you to email me your question about writing and getting published. I will select the best and most relevant questions and ask them during the interview so that you can get a personal answer from an industry insider.

All you have to do is ask your question, using the form below.

Due to the likely volume of responses, may I request that you ask only one question. Please also include at least your first name and the city or country where you live eg. Shazia from Johore in Malaysia.

The closing date is London time Midnight (GMT +1) Friday 11 August 2006 (Malaysian time 07.00am (GMT +7) Saturday 12 August 2006).

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The podcast of my interview with the literary agent will be uploaded on Fusion View on Monday 21 August 2006 after 08.30am (GMT +1).

OK, I know it’s not a Monday but I’m posting a film anyway - this is a response to the film I posted yesterday with the guy dancing around the world.

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Apart from being a very funny, very London take on the New World traveller portrayed by the guy dancing round the world, this illustrates the immediacy and creativity spiralling out of new media and the internet. On verbal based blogs like Fusion View, the community builds up through comments and emails. The next generation of communication is already with us in the form of podcasting and even more “now”, videocasting.

Interestingly, there seem to have been some rather bitter and twisted comments in response to Matt Harding’s dancing round the world video - generally, I think, from people who would like to be travelling or being creative but instead are chained to their desks/ jobs etc. There’s no substitute for just getting on out there and doing it - whether it’s dancing round the world or dancing round your flat!