Chinese sayings: 21 (同病相憐 / 同病相怜)

同病相憐

tóng bìng xiāng lián

“same illness mutually sympathise”

One dictionary gives the definition as:  Fellow suffers have mutual sympathy.  (憐 lián: sympathise / have pity for)

    This saying is descriptive of people being able to understand how other people with similar afflictions feel.  

    One example is hoarders, of whom there’re a few in my circles, including myself.  It’s always, “Such a shame to have this thrown out.  I might be able to find a use for this, or someone will need it.”  

    Trouble is: that day might be quite a few years down the line, and in the meantime, the items will sit there taking up space.  And you can bet that the day after you choose to throw them out, along will come that person/use.  (Like buses that you don’t want to catch on that day: often three will turn up in quick succession.)  The best excuse is: it’s good for the environment, that one’s being ecological (and economical).

    What’s worse is if you are with someone of the same bent, as you’ll end up egging each other on.  This is where the 同病相憐 comes in.

    I visit an 82-year-old Mauritian Chinese lady in west London to give her massage for her bad back and aching knees/legs (and Longevitology energy adjustment for her kidney-case husband).  I mention age and ethnicity only because she’s of that generation and culture who won’t throw things away.  

    She does actually find a use for lots of things, even more than I do.  Every visit to her place produces a new discovery.  A plastic lid will get used as a base for a plant pot (to collect the excess water) — plastic so that rust won't set in.  Used large mouthwash plastic bottles will turn into drinking water vessels on the dining table in the living room to save trips into the kitchen.  Cloth and clothing will get turned into patches for artistic mending or a quilt (remember patchwork quilts?).  (When I was growing up, old clothes would become mopping cloths, window-cleaning cloths, feet-drying/-wiping cloths when we emerged from the wet bathroom, etc.)   

    A mainland Chinese lady I used to know, here in London at the time to be with her daughter studying at university, would use the plastic tubs/punnets that fresh mushrooms or strawberries come in for holding her cooked Chinese dumplings.  She didn't want to buy more crockery just for the three years that they were going to be here, which is indeed very ecological.  

    It’s not a matter of cost.  If anything, the cost factor is often a big culprit.  Things produced on low-cost labour in poorer countries and going cheap over here in the West are one of the main culprits for items ending up in landfill sites, as it’s not expensive to have them replaced, rather than repaired.  (I know, I know, the work feeds lots of families.)

    The Mauritian lady and I will often tell each other what we'd seen thrown out in the street, and go together to check them out.  (Having another person there makes one feel less self-conscious about picking up stuff thrown out.)  

    A fortnight ago, I saw a wooden tray on the pavement in her street (a lot of fly-tipping these days) on the way to her, so when I left her place, I asked her to come along and check it out with me.  We discussed how to repair the scratched wood of the inside bottom, which was all that was in need of fixing (and even then, only aesthetically).  She said her flat was bursting at the seams but she’d take it — much to my relief.

    On the way to view the wooden tray, she pointed out a three-section, collapsible/fold-up, foam single mattress sitting on the street corner opposite her flat.  We inspected it, talked about how it could be used for the unexpected guest (no, they don’t really have space, but that’s not the point), and moved off down the road to go and look at the tray.  When we parted company after deciding on the tray, I said to her, “Don't forget to pick up the foam mattress.”  Well, she didn’t take it.  The next day, she texted me, “Looked out of the window this morning and the mattress is gone.”  Much to her relief.

    The Giant Gentle, in his quaint English, used to say, “We’ve come out of the same hospital.”  

    I’ve often quoted this to people, and to this Mauritian lady, I now simply say, “Same hospital, same hospital,” and she’ll know what I mean.