Chinese sayings: 55 (苗而不秀)

苗而不秀

miáo ér bù xiù

"seedling but not showy"

    This is from the Analects.

(from googling) The Analects were compiled by Confucius's disciples and their followers over roughly 200–300 years, primarily during the Warring States period (c. 475–221 BC).  While initial collections began shortly after Confucius's death in 479 BC, the text likely achieved its final form during the early Han dynasty.  Recent, earlier manuscript discoveries date back to before 300 BC.

(traditional character version) 《論語·子罕》：「苗而不秀者有矣夫!」原意指莊稼只長苗而不抽穗。後用「苗而不秀」比喻天資雖好，但沒有成就；也比喻徒有其表，華而不實。

(simplified characer version)《论语·子罕》：「苗而不秀者有矣夫!」原意指庄稼只长苗而不抽穗。后用「苗而不秀」比喻天资虽好，但没有成就；也比喻徒有其表，华而不实。

(google translate) Quote The Analects of Confucius, Zihan: "There are indeed crops that sprout but do not bloom!" Originally, this meant that crops only sprout but do not produce ears of grain. Later, "sprout but not bloom" became a metaphor for having good talent but not achieving anything; it also means having only outward appearances and being flashy but not substantial. Unquote

    I see this saying being a good summary of my life in terms of having some talent but not achieving anything.

    My performance at school and at work had been good, but I had never wanted to go for anything high.

    At age 13, I was offered a class monitorship but turned it down, much to the surprise and incomprehension of my form teacher, who asked for an explanation.  After all, it was a prestigious post which would also earn me an extra point on my school record.  I said, "I don't like bossing people around."

    At age 29, my name was recommended by three academics when a merchant bank director came to SOAS (School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London) looking for a new or to-be graduate in Chinese or Japanese to work for them in Hong Kong or Tokyo.  The three academics were the then-Head of Chinese, the then-Head of Japanese, plus my classical Chinese tutor whose daughter had worked for the merchant bank in Hong Kong and come back after a few years with enough money to buy a flat in Notting Hill cash down.

    My first thought, instead, was, "I don't want to be wearing a pin-striped suit and high heels five days a week."  I chose instead to remain at the TV documentary film company which had just taken me on for their 12-part series on China (The Heart of the Dragon), after which I drifted into part-time teaching, again only because I was approached by the person who was then standing in for the co-ordinator of the evening programme Mandarin classes.

    How would life have been if I'd chosen to go and work for the merchant bank?  Born to be a drifter...

Going round and round in circles: 02 (London)

The first blog about Going round and round in circles (https://piccola-chinita.blogspot.com/2020/04/going-round-and-round-in-circles-london.html) reminds me of a phone conversation I once had with the secretary of one of our film directors on The Heart of the Dragon.

    The Heart of the Dragon was a 12-part Channel Four TV documentary series about China in the early 80s, made by a company specially set up for it, with each producer/director having their own company working on all sorts of other projects.

    Nigel’s company, Hawkshead Communications Limited, was a corporate training filmmaking company, specialising in communications.

    One day, a call came in from the Hawkshead secretary for Nigel.  He wasn’t in, so she said she’d like to leave a message for him.

Secretary:  Tell Nigel I can do it and you know what I mean…

Me:  Do what?  I don’t know what you mean.

Secretary:  No, those are the names of the training films:  “I can do it” and “You know what I mean”.

(London, 1983)

The verb (China)

I remember hearing a story some 30 years ago about a United Nations conference.  The speech was in German.

    After the speaker had been going on for a little while, the audience heard no simultaneous translation coming through on their earphones, so they fiddled around with the various control knobs, thinking there was a technical problem.

    Then they looked up at the interpreters’ booth and found the German-English interpreter’s lips not moving.  They raised their hands and shoulders, asking the interpreter why he was not translating what the speaker was saying.

    The interpreter said, “Wait for the verb!  Wait for the verb!”

    (For those who don't already know:  the German verb, like the Japanese verb, comes at the end of the sentence.  The English verb tends to come somewhere in the middle, so one cannot proceed with the English sentence until one has the verb.)

    This put me in mind of what happened on the first film shoot, carried out in Harbin (N.E. China) in January/February 1982, for The Heart of The Dragon, the 12-part documentary series on China that went out on Channel Four in 1984.

    The film directors had initially thought of using a presenter for the series, and they chose an English woman who could speak Chinese.  Let’s call her Mary Smith.

    The episode was Episode Two, called Caring (on different levels:  the state for its people when they go mad or bad, so we filmed a psychiatric hospital and a prison; within the family — between husband and wife, between parent and child, between grandparent and grandchild, so we chose a peasant family).

    Mary was interviewing the grandmother about life within the family in China, and at one point got on to the subject of grain vouchers, doled out by the government in those days to the people.  Mary was trying to find out what they could buy with their grain vouchers.

    The dialogue, in Chinese, went this way:

Mary:  So, apart from grain, can you use the vouchers to buy other types of food?

Grandmother:  Yes.

M:  Oil?

G:  Yes.

M:  Sewing machine?

G:  Yes.

M:  Bicycle?

G:  Yes.

M:  Tram?  (What she meant was: “to travel on the tram”, but she forgot to switch the verb.)

G:  (Totally serious, taking her literally)  Ordinary Chinese families don’t buy trams. (一般中国家庭嘛，不买电车。)

(The old lady must've been thinking, "I know Westerners are rich, so maybe they DO buy trams, who knows?")

Mary then moved on to the kind of material the Chinese like to use/wear.

M:  So, do the Chinese wear cotton?

G:  Yes.

M:  Silk?

G:  Yes.

M:  Feathers?  (Mary had now moved on to stuffing for quilts and pillows, and padding for coats, but again she forgot to switch the verb.)

G:  (Again, totally serious, taking her literally)  Ordinary Chinese people don’t wear feathers. (一般中国人嘛，不穿羽毛。)

(The old lady must've been thinking, "I know Westerners do things differently from the Chinese, so maybe they DO wear feathers, who knows?")

(China, 1982)