Gift giving is tricky in any culture—even our own. How many times have I given a gift and wondered if I made the right choice? When I first came as a teacher to China and gave a gift, usually to the host who had invited me to dinner, I was somewhat prepared for what would happen. There was a brief smile or nod of thanks and it was whisked off—never to be seen again. I knew this was the custom and so wasn’t hurt. Students pointed out that it was a private matter between giver and receiver and so not to be opened in front of others.
Times change and more recent visits often included not only the opening of the gift but sharing it or discussing it. “Where did you buy these strawberries?” “How did you make these?” “We knew you like plants and so we brought you this one that makes a flower.”
Even the bringing of a gift is not as expected as it once was. Or is it? I’ve heard both. “Oh teacher, you didn’t need to bring a gift. We don’t do that anymore.” And “Oh, Barbara, you’re so Chinese.”
For holidays I have received plastic pull toys, dozens of musical cards and silk scarves, student poems, and out-of-date commemorative souvenirs—giving one new ideas for re-gifting.
Many presents have had a story. “My father gave me this when I left for college.” My hesitation to accept was met with “it was for a special day and this is a special day—I met my first foreign teacher.” A forestry major gave me a bound copy of her master’s thesis.” I know you can’t read it but you’ve known me as I worked on it.” She had made me look at poplar trees differently. As I packed to leave one spring my Chinese teacher and good friend brought me the traditional-style jacket she had sewn by hand as a young girl. Yes, we had known each other for four years but all those tiny stitches!
In sad times? The giving did not stop. My mother died when I was teaching in northeast China. Oh, how my new community reached out to me! It was my second year at the school and I was overwhelmed with visits, notes, fruit, and words of concern. “Please eat. Sad people sometimes don’t eat and you shouldn’t lose weight.” One visitor even went on and leaned her head towards my foreign friend who sat beside me. “You’re not fat like her.” Her well-intentioned comment actually brought a smile to all our faces. We should all be so fat.
One evening as I came back from class our building manager called me into his first floor office. I was tired and yes, sad. It was an awkward moment as he seemed quite unsure of what to say. Surprising as we were the same age, often chatted (he was patient with my Chinese) and had enjoyed a dragon year birthday celebration. He handed me two bags—one with a jar of pineapple and the other a bag of powdered milk. “Here,” he said, “it’s very small but I thought something to eat was the best thing to give you now.” I thanked him and he went on. “I really don’t know if it’s the right thing to give. I really don’t know what to do when foreigners die.” He smiled and shook his head. “I really don’t know what to do when Chinese people die. But I just want you to know we’re friends.” Perfect gifts I’d say.
Image credit: Barbara Kindschi
Barbara Kindschi
Barbara Kindschi has been privileged and challenged to teach English in China, Myanmar, Laos, and most recently, Mongolia. Her classes have been filled with undergrads, professors, accountants, hotel employees, monks, government workers, and beauty pageant contestants. They continue to be both her students and teachers as she now tutors online. Barbara …View Full Bio
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