Today's post is written by my husband as a guest blogger! He has told this story many times at gatherings of friends and family, and I never get tired of hearing it.
I Am Liu. I Have a Very Important Job!
In mid-March, 1984, while working for a well known oil company headquartered in Plano, Texas, I was directed to go to China to
work for a few months at the Chinese Geophysical Institute (GRI) in a village
called (pronounced phonetically), Joe-Shin.
As I cannot recall the accurate spelling of the city’s name, Joe-Shin
will have to suffice for now. Located about 50
kilometers from Beijing, GRI was a rather grim looking conglomeration of low two story buildings housing their geophysical data processing center. It was there at GRI where I met Mr. Liu.
I
was given a small office at GRI. It was small and sparsely furnished, with a desk, table, chair, steam radiator, teapot, chipped
teacup, and waste basket. Unlike the
rest of the building, it was quite clean and tidy, with no dust nor trash
anywhere. The rest of the building was
dirty and dusty. Trash and other debris were just swept into
corners. On the first morning after my
arrival, there was a light tap on the office door. When I opened the door, there was a tall
Chinese gentleman. He was dressed in
clean but well-worn blue Mao type jacket and pants. He came in with a wide smile that I grew to
expect daily. He had a broom and dustpan
in his hands, and as he stepped in, he saluted and introduced himself in clear,
but accented English, “Hello, my name is Liu.
I have a very important job. I am
your janitor!”
With that introduction, he began to clean a room that was already
spotless, probably from his having cleaned it in days before I arrived at GRI. He
showed up each day promptly at 8:30 AM. The
conversation always began with a small tap on the door, then on entering he
would say, “Hello, I am Liu. I have a
very important job. I am your janitor!” The second day he came to clean the room, he
began with, “Hello, I am Liu. I have a
very important job! I am your janitor. You are Mr. Parker. You work for Arco. You live in Texas!” Our conversations after his greeting often
lasted an hour or more as he slowly cleaned an already tidy room. He told me of his desire to learn more English, where he lived, that he was not married, although he admired a young lady he knew, but didn't have the nerve to approach for fear of being rejected.
Every day, he would ask questions about me, what I did,
where I worked, about my wife and my children, what my home was like, many questions about the United States, etc. Then, each day,
he would incorporate what he had learned the day before into his greeting. So, by the time I left Joe-Shin, he had quite
a long spiel to say when he came into my office. We learned much about each other as he worked. He was a very
humble and honest man, poor, but with great pride in his job. He lived close to
GRI, somewhere in the nearby village. He never
complained about anything although from my view, there was a lot to gripe
about. It was cold and dusty. There were dead animals in the filthy
roadside ditches filled with stagnant water. In the open air meat market, other animals hung from rafters. Transportation was primarily by bicycle, small horse drawn carts, and home made tractors.ñ
I had almost as many questions about him and his country as he had for
me. For instance, one day I saw an open-bedded
truck with three men and two guards standing in the back. The
men had their eyes covered with blindfolds and their hands were tied behind
their backs. There were placards with Chinese writing tied
around their necks. As the truck drove
slowly through the streets of Joe-Shin with horns honking loudly, the men were
shouted at and ridiculed by the crowds lining the streets.
After seeing this spectacle, I asked Mr. Liu what it was all about. He told me the men had committed a crime (described
by the placards) for which they were to be punished by public embarrassment and
humiliation. At the conclusion of their ride through Joe-Shin, they would be taken to the rice fields outside the village to be executed
by a gunshot to the head. In addition to
that punishment, their families would have to pay the government for the
bullets that killed them. This is tough
punishment, indeed. As “family” is so
important in China, the acts of these men and their punishment must have been
devastating to their loved ones. It is
no wonder, at least at that time, that the crime rate in China seemed to be very low.
On another occasion, when I arrived at the office, I found it to be very cold inside. The room’s small steam radiator, never very efficient was not working at all and the room temperature probably matched that outside, about 40 degrees
Fahrenheit. The only other available
heat was from the little electric heater used to boil water for daily
teas. When Mr. Liu arrived, I asked him
if the radiator was broken. His smiling reply
was, “Oh, no, Mr. Parker, today winter
over by government order, no more heat!” I wore much more
clothing to go to work the next day.
By the time I left China a few months later, Mr. Liu had a very
long speech for me when he came in, including most everything we had ever
talked about. On my last day there, he
came in without his usual broad grin, but he seemed very sad. He went through his daily greeting, “Hello, I
am Mr. Liu. I have a very important
job. I am your janitor . . . . !” Then following that, he related in better
English than when I first arrived, but maybe
with a little of my East Texas twang, all the things we had talked about during
my stay. When he finished his long morning speech, he concluded with, “…..but, I am very sad today”. When I asked why he was sad, he said it was
because I was leaving and he had no gift for me. I assured him that was okay, but he said brightly, “ Aah! I have no gift for you, but I can sing for
you!” He then commenced to sing, “Good
morning to you, good morning to you, good morning, good morning, good morning to you.” (He had learned this song and much of his English
from listening to Good Morning America.)
What a gift! I will never forget
that fine and simple man or his singing of that song. As we both sang it one more time with tears
in our eyes, we said goodbye, and I had to leave.
I often wonder how Mr. Liu is. Did
he ever summon the courage to talk to the lady who he admired so much? Did he continue to learn English by listening
to Good Morning America? I still
miss our conversations now 30 plus years past.
If I could talk to him again, I would wager that he would tell me, with
a big smile, of course, “Hello, I am Liu.
I have another very important job!”
Wouldn’t it be great if we could all have Mr. Liu's attitude about our lives
and our work?
Joe Parker
March 12, 2015
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