the random oracle

So one of my cousins gave birth to a daughter last week, which makes me a new uncle (舅舅) of sorts, except not really because 舅舅 (jiujiu) is supposed to be your mother’s brother, and instead I’m the mother’s cousin, but I guess it’s a close approximation. All the different family relative names are so complicated (different words for mother’s mother, father’s mother, mother’s brother, father’s brother, cousin on the mother’s side, etc.) that even Chinese people don’t usually know what’s what.

When I first saw my new niece, I asked what her name was, being the Westerner that I am. Of course she didn’t have a name yet, she had a 小名 (little name) which is 柔柔 (rourou) because she’s so quiet, apparently she doesn’t cry at all. She’ll get a name when she’s a little bit older (not quite sure how much older), but for now she only has a 小名 so that “evil spirits” won’t be able see her and steal her soul or something. 柔柔 was asleep when I got there and we tried to wake her up but she was very recalcitrant about staying asleep, so we let her have her beauty rest and went to have lunch. I ended up not seeing her again that day, but since I’ll be in Beijing for quite a while longer I’ll get more chances.

Hanging out with the relatives is very odd. I guess it’s a normal thing for most people to see their cousins, uncles, and aunts but for me it’s a once-every-three-or-four-years kind of affair, and that combined with a mild language barrier makes it pretty awkward. Our meals were filled mostly with silence; obviously I don’t want to tell them about my personal life and I also can’t tell them about my studies because I don’t know the appropriate vocabulary in Chinese, and I don’t want to ask any prying questions for which the answers might be uncomfortable or embarrassing (for example, why is my cousin’s husband, the baby-daddy, currently “disabled” with a twisted ankle so that he can’t leave the apartment and they have to go bring him food, except that he can miraculously find his way down and then back up when he runs out of booze or cigarettes?), so basically the conversation is stilted and awkward all around. Things are compounded by the fact that my family in Beijing is all on my Dad’s side, and I know my Dad’s side of the family even less than I know my Mom’s side (at least my Mom talks about her family; my Dad didn’t even know that my cousin was going to have a baby!).

But I also look at their interactions and am surprised by how different their lives are than mine, simply by virtue of being surrounded by family. They’re always calling or texting each other, picking up food or running errands for one another. In the few hours that I was there my other cousin and her husband went and bought an A/C unit for my uncle’s new apartment, we went on a wild goose hunt (or rather pig ear hunt) the baby’s daddy so that he could have some food along with his booze, and of course they took me out to two lavish meals. It seemed nice and yet somehow strange to have people around that you can count on to help you out with tasks like that. Of course I know I can count on my friends when it matters, but for simple day-to-day things like these I would never imagine asking anyone to help me (especially not my parents… well, except for laundry).

But on the flip side I could also see the intra-family stress created by this constant contact. On more than one occasion one cousin would make a snide remark about the other, and people were always telling each other what to do. I’ve definitely been Americanized to the point of being fiercely independent, and I bristle every time my parents tell me to do anything, especially silly or obvious things like to put on a jacket when it’s cold or to brake at the stop sign. I guess that’s another reason I don’t feel any particular need to participate in the extended family’s life: I don’t really expect people to be constantly involved in the mundane aspects my life, whether it’s helping me out or telling me what to do, I’d rather just deal with it myself. For better or for worse, I guess.