Wish You Happy Forever (4 page)

“The rest will come,” they say to me.

“I am a teacher,” I say.

“Good,” they say. “If that is true, come work with us.”

So Loris Malaguzzi, a young teacher from nearby Correggio, quit his job and became the father of the Reggio Emilia approach to early education. He understood from the start that to reach great numbers of children traumatized by war, he must find a way to be there for them one by one and all together. It was the opposite of what was believed in his day about the education of young children. “A simple, liberating thought came to our aid, namely that things about children and for children are only learned from children. We knew how this was true and at the same time not true. But we needed that assertion and guiding principle; it gave us strength and turned out to be an essential part of our collective wisdom.”

Maya taught me that I could reach one hurt child by simply being there for her, responding to the need I saw in her. It seemed that Reggio might offer a way to reach any number of children like our little girl—to help build a new life for maybe thousands out of the rubbled landscape of loss.

An orphanage is not a town. Our children had no loving families to help them rebuild their lives brick by brick. Half the Sky's programs to nurture orphaned children must be placed in the hands of extraordinary caregivers who would be not simply substitute parents or nannies or even mere teachers. They must also become learning partners, able through careful observation to respond to children's needs and offer gentle guidance.

But how could an abandoned child, a child no adult spoke to except in group commands, a child whose eyes no one ever looked into—how could she possibly develop enough sense of who she was or what she needed to then tell us? If she
could
tell us—if she had a voice—what would she say?

I couldn't know the answers, but I could find the right people to help. People who knew how to turn ideas into practice. Over time, I told myself, the children would show us the way. We would have to watch carefully, listen to the hundred languages, the hundred ways that children communicate, and ask that question again and again.

“Learning and teaching should not stand on opposite banks and just watch the river flow by,” said Loris Malaguzzi. “Instead, they should embark together on a journey down the water.”

We wouldn't be afraid to take the journey together. We would learn from the children, and then they from us.

 

THE VERY DAY
after discovering Reggio, I joined an online community dedicated to its teachings. There I found Carolyn Edwards, a psychology professor at the University of Nebraska, who, it turned out, had coedited
The Hundred Languages of Children
. I asked her if she thought such an approach, one that enables children to become partners in their own learning, could be a key to helping institutionalized children awaken.

“Absolutely!” she said, “Reggio, and its focus on learning through relationships, may well offer at least part of the answer you're looking for.”

She told me about a young Chinese graduate student who might help me connect the dots.

Wen Zhao and her husband, Hong, had been among the thousands of Chinese students studying in the United States when Tiananmen Square erupted in 1989. Like so many others, they never went home. Hong was now a geology professor; Wen was a graduate student of early childhood education. Somehow exile had taken them to Lincoln, Nebraska, home, at that time, of the worst Chinese food I have ever tasted. Just before Thanksgiving, I bundled Maya up, we flew to the chilly plains of America's heartland, and I made my case.

Wen was a slender porcelain beauty straight out of the Qing Dynasty but tossed with a fluff of curly permed hair that was pure middle America. She listened carefully while I shared my vision of happy, healing preschools and infant nurture programs inside government orphanages. I explained why I believed that institutionalized children might thrive with a Chinese version of the Reggio approach.

Wen shook her head. “I just don't understand. Why do you want to do this for our Chinese children?”

I'd heard plenty of “Impossible,” but Wen was the first to ask me
why
.

I wasn't entirely sure. I stumbled over my words.

“Well. Because I think I know how to help? Because no one else is doing anything for those kids? Because . . . look at this little girl on my lap—how happy, how alive she is. She taught me why. If you could have seen her on the day we met, Wen, you would just know.”

“I can see she is in your heart,” she said.

What I loved most about Wen was that she never did say, “Impossible.” She just showed us around the university laboratory child development center, the walls bright with children's art and photographs of projects in the works, and told me she dreamed of one day returning to China to open schools like this. Good schools, inspired by Reggio.

“We'll do it together,” I said. “Help me and you'll have your schools.”

Maybe that's what convinced her. Or maybe she, too, was swept along by whatever wind was at my back. She got right to work developing a curriculum for an orphanage preschool. And when I thanked Carolyn Edwards for the great introduction, I asked if she'd also consider joining our board. Yes!

Early Spring 1999

I got my first truly practical Chinese lesson from Norman Niu, the sweetheart of an adoption facilitator who had helped us adopt Maya. “Uncle Norman” was the only Chinese person I knew at the time who had genuine dealings with the Chinese government. He was a natural for Half the Sky. Plus, while we were waiting to adopt, I'd given him and his cousin a bit part in my movie, so I liked to think we had a special place in his heart.

Dick and I invited Norman to lunch with our radiant little daughter and shared our plan. I told him about Dr. Johnson and Dr. Edwards and about Wen Zhao.

“Norman, we'd be thrilled if you'd consider joining our board and help to make Half the Sky a reality. It's really because of you and your work that all this is happening. So what do you think?”

Norman smiled. “It's a good plan. But difficult. China is not an easy place. Your daughter is very lovely. She must bring you much happiness.”

He didn't seem dying to jump in. I went on to explain that all I really needed him to do was present the plan to the CCAA—the China Center for Adoption Affairs—in Beijing. Once the government agreed to talk to me, I would take care of the rest.

“You should go to the provincial authorities first. CCAA very difficult.”

“I see. Well, would you do that for us, Norman? After facilitating all those adoptions, I'll bet you must have great relations in Guangdong Province.”

“It is difficult. Did you try the shrimp?”

Okay. Well, he didn't say no.

And here was my first real China lesson: China is like Hollywood.
Nobody
likes to say no. In fact, it's almost impossible to make someone actually say the word
no
. In Hollywood, it's because nobody wants to be the one to pass on a future mega-hit. In China, it's because nobody wants to be the nail that sticks out and gets hammered. This I could live with. I just had to figure out the Chinese equivalent of not taking your phone calls. That's how they say no in Hollywood.

So lunch ended and Norman went to China and I eagerly waited for news.

BY NOW, I'D
given up any thought of Half the Sky as a little project I'd do on the side while continuing to toil in the Hollywood trenches. I failed to turn in the screenplay for my next film; in fact, I barely wrote a word after seeing Maya through that kitchen window. Half the Sky was the story I wanted to write.

My dear husband, my soul mate, said he was with me all the way. We sold our house and moved back to the Bay Area, to an old farmhouse in the Berkeley hills. The new dining room became our Half the Sky production office.

The timing was great. Dick was helping out on a film project with Public Media Center, a nonprofit advertising agency in San Francisco. The company was run by Herb Chao Gunther, loquacious, sometimes brilliant, and definitely the cockiest, most opinionated Chinese German radical lefty ad guy around. We met.

“What makes you think you can make a difference?” Herb said.

“I don't know,” I said.

“But that doesn't stop you?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Then the helpful hints came faster than I could write them down. Best of all, Herb was actually working in China. He had wangled some hefty grant funds from the Ford Foundation to train family planning officials in midlevel Chinese cities how to present sex education. He worked with a Chinese organization that might be willing to partner with Half the Sky. He had my China connection!

Herb promised to introduce me to Madame Miao Xia, secretary general of the China Population Welfare Foundation (CPWF), a Chinese NGO, or nongovernmental organization. “Well, actually, it's a GONGO,” he said, “a government-organized nongovernmental organization.”

“China's nonprofits are really run by the government?”

“Exactly,” he said. “All truly functioning NGOs in China are, in fact, organized by the government and run by retired government officials. So you have to find a
nainai
GONGO.”

“
Nainai
GONGO? Okay . . . I'm not following exactly.”

“
Nainai
is ‘grandmother.' You need a GONGO to look after you, like a
nainai
.”

“
Nainai
GONGO. Got it.”

“Anyhow, not to worry.”

Herb said that Madame Miao was tough and political, but she was honest. A perfect
nainai
. We should be okay. And even though he had no authority whatsoever, I will be forever grateful to Herb for giving me my first yes. It felt like permission.

Herb was a man of his word. I soon received a letter from Beijing.

Dear Jenny Bowen:

It is our great pleasure to know your Foundation through our dear friends at Public Media Center. CPWF is a nonprofit NGO, to assist people, especially women, in their economical life, health, and social activities. Improving the conditions of the orphanages has been our concern in the past. Besides, we are in direct link with the government ministry—the State Family Planning Commission. In a word, as a Chinese NGO, we are greatly interested in a joint effort with your foundation to reach our common goal.

Truly yours,

Miao Xia, Secretary General

China Population

Welfare Foundation

Yes! We had a Chinese partner—a
nainai
!—nothing could stop us now! I faxed back at once with a copy of our proposal. I asked when we could meet in Beijing.

A week passed with no word. Hmm. I refaxed the letter and proposal. Bingo!

Dear Jenny Bowen,

We are happy that you have received our letter. At the time when we are looking forward to your reply we noticed unfortunately on our side the fax paper had been running out. We hope you will try it again and by that time the paper should be in position. Thank you for your attention and we are waiting to read your fax.

With good wishes,

Mrs. Zhang Zhirong,

Assistant to Mme. Miao

Three's a charm. My message was received and the assistant, Mrs. Zhang—who I now realized was the English voice of Madame Miao—sent a lovely note confirming that we were to be partners, and that there would be certain financial requirements on our side, and throwing in a little pitch for herself:

So far at this stage, I would be happy to appoint Mrs. Zhang Zhirong to be the contact person for this project. Mrs. Zhang graduated from University of Michigan, an MA in sociology, she has long years' experience in conducting and managing international aid programs. I am sure she will be a good helping hand in implementation of your program in China.

She'd written her own letter of recommendation! And I would soon learn that she had not oversold herself one bit. For now, I wrote back that it sounded like a great idea and I'd be in touch as soon as we heard from my friend Norman Niu.

Then NATO bombed the Chinese Embassy in Yugoslavia. The U.S. government said it had been a mistake.

BEIJING (
NEW YORK TIMES
), SETH FAISON
—A powerful surge of anti-American sentiment was unleashed after last week's bombing of China's Embassy in Belgrade, sending rocks, bottles and slogans at the American Embassy here. The protests grew to become the largest anti-foreign demonstrations since the Cultural Revolution in the 1960s. . . .

“We are a very old and traditional nation,” said Wang Yizheng, a government employee. “If you do not show us respect, we will hate you.”

I wrote to my new friends at CPWF:

I'm writing to convey my sincere condolences and my outrage at the recent bombing of the Chinese Embassy in Belgrade. I am deeply sad and angry that the NATO countries have made such a terrible, tragic, and unspeakable mistake.

I am worried and frightened about how this will be played out. I feel that now, more than ever, it is important to keep our lines of communication open. I wanted to share these feelings with my friends in China.

Sincerely,

Jenny Bowen

I received an immediate reply:

Dear Jenny,

Your fax of condolences has been received. It's been circulated to all our staff and the translation copy has been sent to our newspaper, Population. We regard your attitude representing the sincere concern of the American people toward the Chinese people. We are here to express our heartfelt thanks and absolute agreement with you.

For almost two months, headed by the U.S., NATO countries have launched an indiscriminate bombing of the innocent people, especially killing and injuring innocent Chinese journalists and diplomats, which is totally unacceptable by all peace-loving people in the world. Justice would bound to defeat all evils.