A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers (5 page)

green fingers
pl. n. Brit. informal
skill in gardening.

green fingers

Our first night. First time we make love. First time in my life doing this.

I think you are beautiful. You are beautiful smiles, and beautiful face, and beautiful language. You speak slowly. I almost hear every single word because you speak so slowly, only sometime I not understanding what you mean. But I understanding you more than anybody else I meet in England.

Then you are taking off clothes.

I look at you. Man’s body seems ugly. Hair, bones, muscles, skins, more hair. I smell at you. Strong smell. Smell animal. Smell is from your hair, your chest, your neck, your armpit, your skin, your every single little bit in body.

Strong smell and strong soul. I even can feel it and touch it. And I think your body maybe beautiful also. Is the home of your soul.

I ask how old are you, is first question Chinese people ask to stranger. You say forty-four. Older than me twenty years. Forty-four in my Chinese think is old, is really old. Leaves far behind away from youth. I say age sound old, but you look young. You say thanks, and you don’t say more.

I say I think you beautiful, ignoring the age. I think you too beautiful for me, and I don’t deserve of you.

Very early morning. You are sleeping, with gentle breathe. I look through bedroom’s window. Sky turning dim into bright. I see small dried up old grapes hang under vines by window. Their shapes are become clear and clear in cold spring morning light. Garden is messy and lush. Your clothes and socks hanging in washing line. Your gardening machines everywhere on soil.

You are man, handy and physical. This is man’s garden.

You make me feel fragile. Love makes me feel fragile, because I am not beautiful, I never being told I am beautiful. My mother always telling me I am ugly. “You are ugly peasant girl. You have to know this.” Mother tells this to me for all twenty-three years. Maybe why I not never having boyfriend like other Chinese girls my age. When I badly communicating with others, my mother’s words becomes loud in my eardrum. I am ugly peasant girl. I am ugly peasant girl.

“My body is crying for you,” you say.

Most beautiful sentence I heard in my life.

My bad English don’t match your beautiful language.

I think I fall in love with you, but my love cannot match your beauty.

And then daytime. Sun puts light through garden to our bed. Birds are singing on roof. I think how sunlight must make people much happier in this dark country and then I watch you wake up. We see each other naked, without distance. In light of reality. “Good morning,” you say. “You look even more lovely than yesterday.” And we make love again in the morning.

fertilise
 
 
v.
1.
to provide (an animal or plant) with sperm or pollen to bring about fertilisation;
2.
to supply (soil) with nutrients.

fertilise

You take me to garden. Is very small, maybe ten square metres. One by one, you introduce me all the plants you have put there. Sixteen different plants in a ten square metres garden. In my home town in China, there only one plant in fields: rice.

You know every single plant’s name, like they your family and you try tell me but I not remember English names so you write them down:

Potato

Daffodil

Lavender

Mint

Spinach

Thyme

Dill

Apple tree

Green beans

Wisteria

Grape vine

Bay tree

Geranium

Beetroot

Sweet corn

Fig tree

Then I tell you all these plants have very different names and meanings in Chinese. So I write down names in Chinese, and explain every word at you.

You laughing when you hear the names. “I never knew flutes grew on trees,” you say. It seems I am big comedy to you. I not understand why so funny. “You can’t say your Rs. It’s
fruit
not
flute
,” you explain me. “A
flute
is a musical instrument. But your Chinese name seems just right: a fig tree really is a fruit tree without flowers.”

“How a tree can just have fruit without having flower first?” I ask.

Like teacher, you describe how insect climbs into fruit to fertilise seed.

What “fertilise”? I need looking in
Concise Chinese–English Dictionary
.

“Fertilise” make me think Chairman Mao. He likes fertiliser. Was big Mao thing increase productivity, increase plants. Maybe that why China, biggest peasants population country, still alive and become stronger after using fertiliser on the soil.

I ask: “How long a fig tree has figs after insects fertilising it? Like woman have ten months pregnant?”

You look at me, like look at
alien
.

“Why ten months? I thought it took nine months,” you say.

“Chinese we say
shi yue huai tai
 
. It means giving the birth after ten months pregnant.”

“That’s strange.” You seem like want to laugh again. “Which day do you start to count the pregnancy in China?” you ask seriously. But how I know? We never being taught this
properly
in school. Too shameful to teach and to study for our Chinese.

Standing under your fruit tree without flowers, I pick up piece of leaf, and put on my palm. A single leaf, but large. I touch the surface and feel hairy.

“Have you read the Bible?” you ask.

“No.” Of course not, not in China.

You fetch a big huge black book from room. You open the pages. “Actually the fig tree is the oldest of mankind’s symbols.” You point at beginning of book:

And the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they were naked, and they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons.

“What is that?” I am curious.

“It is about Adam and Eve. They used fig leaves to cover their naked bodies.”

“They clever. They knowing fig leaves bigger than other leafs,” I say.

You laugh again.

Your gardening machines everywhere in disorder.

Suddenly I bit shocked, stop. There are some nudity in your garden.

“What this?” I ask.

“Those are my sculptures,” you say.

Sculptures? A naked man no head, facing to ground of the garden. Body twisted, with enormous hands and enormous feet. Close to ground, between the legs, two beautiful eggs, like two half of apples. In the middle of apples, a penis like little wounded bird. I walk to him and touch. Is made of plaster. I amazed by this body, is huge, looks suffered. I remember picture from Michelangelo’s
David
on your bookshelf, a very healthy and balanced body. But yours, yours far different.

Beside this body statue, some other smalls clay sculptures. Ear, big like basin, in brown. Shape of that ear spread like a big flower. Then more ears, different shape, different size. They lie on the grass quietly, listening us.

Under fig tree another penis made from clay, gentle, innocent. Then another one, looks harder, lies down beside honeysuckle roots, in soil colour. Little clay sculptures there, like they live with plants hundred years.

The noisy London being stopped by brick wall. The grey city kept away by this garden. Plants and sculptures on sunshine. Glamorous, like you. Maybe all mans in London green fingers. Maybe this country too cold and too dim, so plants and garden can showing imagination the spring, the sun, the warmth. And plants and garden giving love like womans warm mans life.

When I stand in garden with sixteen different plants, I think of Chinese mans. Chinese city-mans not plant-lover at all. Shameful for Chinese city-mans pour passion onto those leafs. He be considered a loser, no position in society. But you, you different. Who are you?

instruction
 
 
n.
1.
order to do something;
2.
teaching–
pl.
information on how to do or use something.

instruction

We have so much sex. We make love every day and every night. Morning, noon, afternoon, late afternoon, evening, early night, late night, midnight, even in the dreams. We make love in sun, we make love in grey afternoon, and we make love at raining night. We make love on narrow bench of garden, under fig tree, on hammock covered by the grape leafs, by kitchen sink, on dinner table, on anywhere we feel like to make love. I feel scared towards your huge energy. You come into me strong like a storm blowing a wooden house in the forest, and you come into me deep like a hammer beating the nail on the wall. You ask me if it feels good, and I say it make me feel comfortable.

“Only
comfortable
!?”

“Yes,” I tell you. “I find your body is very comfortable, like nothing else I find in this uncomfortable country.”

Do I feel shame about sex? Yes, I do, in beginning. A lot. Is such taboo in China. I never really know what is sex before. Now I naked everyday in the house, and I can see clearly my desire. Recent I dream few times that I am naked in street, in market, and even on highway. I run through busy street fast as I can to get home. But still, everybody in street surprising to see I am naked.

What this dream about?

You say this dream about shame or fear of being exposed.

Every time we make love you produce so much sperm on my skin like the spring on the Trafalgar Square, you are worried sometimes that maybe I get pregnant. We only want have each other and we don’t want let the third person take over our love.

You say we need use the condom.

In our long-shabby-Hackney-Road, there no any “
Boots
” (
Boots
is a shop represent civilisation to me), although
Cost Cutter
sells condom sometimes. But shopkeeper in
Cost Cutter
know us just like he know niece or nephew. And he is serious Muslim, he might anti condom user. So we have go to Brick Lane, where the Bangladeshi shopkeepers are kind and messy, and they can’t remembering every single customer face whom from Hackney Road.

PLEASE READ THESE INSTRUCTIONS CAREFULLY,
as it say on the box. I open box, unfold notes, then start read. I never read condom instruction before. I think people maybe only read condom instruction when the first time they try to sex. Anyway I new to this.

Tear along one side of the foil, removing the condom carefully. Condoms are strong but can be torn by sharp fingernails or jewellery.

“What is
jewellery
?” I ask.

“Sparkly stuff women love to wear,” you say, without emotion.

Only put the condom on when the penis is erect and before contact with your partner’s body. This helps prevent STDs and pregnancy.

“What is STD?”

“Sexually Transmitted Disease,” you reply quickly, as if is thing you are familiar as your every day’s mint tea.

Now place the condom over the end of the penis with the roll on the outside. With one hand pinch the teat of the condom to expel any trapped air, this will make space for the sperm.

I being stopped by these word:

one hand pinch the teat of the condom to expel any trapped air

…I needing several seconds to imagine that scene. Is like pornography. We cannot have words like this in Chinese. We too ashamed. Westerner has nothing too ashamed. You can do anything in this country.

Using the other hand, roll the condom down the length of the penis to its base. Withdraw the penis soon after ejaculation whilst still erect, holding the condom firmly in place at the base of the penis. Wait until the penis is completely withdrawn before removing the condom. Keep the penis and condom away from the vagina to avoid any contact with sperm…

I can’t continuing reading. I am totally lost these words. But you laughing.

Condoms are intended for vaginal intercourse, other uses can increase the potential for breakage.

I stop: “What’s that mean?”

“It is a hint. It means you shouldn’t put it into the arse.” You answer, very precise, but no more patience, as you start reading your
Guardian Weekend
.

I read other bits of instruction on other side as well, and they less important. For example,

Even if you are not planning on having sexual intercourse, it’s sensible to carry condoms with you, just in case.

Sensible to carry condoms all the time? Westerner can always have sex whenever they go shopping, or waiting for bus or train. Sex in this country is like brush the hair or the teeth.

Words on the instruction are more exciting than sexy magazines on shelfs of corner shop in our street.