In 1974, when I visited Asia for the first time, I had a research project in mind aimed at studying the uses of humor in Chinese culture. From my reading about China, I had the impression that the people of that ancient culture were rather stiff and formal and not at all prone to laughter. Boy, was I wrong.
My study site was Hong Kong and once settled in there, I quickly made a number of friends. One of the first things I noticed about my Chinese buddies was the way they liked to joke with and tease each other. Funny nicknames were rampant. One of my friends was affectionately known as “Chicken Guts” because his Chinese name sounded a lot like the Cantonese words for chicken guts.
The Hong Kongers’ humor wasn’t just a matter of funny nicknames. A favorite expression of my buddies was “Holland Moon.” What, I wanted to know, did this mean. It turns out that if you shift, ever so slightly, the English phrase “Holland moon” into Cantonese, what you wind up with is an extremely obscene phrase which means literally, “So (expletive) boring!” which my friends (and eventually I) found hilariously inappropriate.
But as much fun as I found my Hong Kong friends to be, what impressed me more was their generosity. In fact, when I first deplaned at the Hong Kong airport, I asked an elderly Chinese gentleman if he could recommend a good restaurant. He asked me to follow him and he took me to a nearby restaurant where he proceeded to treat me to an elaborate and delicious Chinese dinner. We did not know each other at all, and we had not even spoken to each other before I asked him about restaurants. Yet, as soon as I did ask him, he made me his honored guest.
This kind of gesture, I soon learned, is typical of the Chinese. It’s almost as though warm hospitality is their superpower. Years later, when I lived and taught in Mainland China, one of my students invited me to his village home. Once we arrived at our destination and approached his home, his father rushed out, took me by the arm, and almost forcefully led me into the heart of the household where we enjoyed, of course, some delicious Chinese food. His welcoming gestures were so insistent I almost felt I had been taken prisoner by some passionate gang that specialized in feeding its hostages great food.
I am certain others who have spent time in China can tell similar stories. As an American, I love my country, but I have to admit that when it comes to warm-hearted hospitality the Chinese are definitely ahead of us.
I don’t intend to make any apologies here for the Chinese government’s human-rights failings. But as far as the Chinese people are concerned, I can only say their generosity, friendliness, and all-around decency have made my years in China memorable in so many ways.
Which is why my heart breaks to read about the vicious attacks that Chinese and other East Asians have been suffering in the United States lately. This is so wrong and so un-American. We are a great people, with roots in every continent, including Asia. Our strength is, or can be, our ability to work together. Our ideals of unity of purpose and equality in justice are worth striving for, no matter how much we have failed to uphold them in the past. To abuse a particular group is a failure of American ideals and, really, a source of shame to us all.
The apparent origin of the coronavirus in China has nothing to do with our Chinese-American neighbors in Orlando, California or New York. And let’s be frank, the world’s next deadly virus may well come from Florida or somewhere else in the U.S. Should that happen, I would not want to be blamed for the tragedies it causes. And, if my American family had emigrated to another country decades ago and been accepted as citizens there, how bizarre it would seem to be attacked for something going on back in the U.S.
Really, my only wish is that we Americans do our country proud by remembering we all belong here equally. And I also dare to hope that Asians and Asian-Americans here will experience something like the warm-hearted generosity that I was the beneficiary of during my years in China.
Robert L. Moore is a professor emeritus of anthropology at Rollins College, where he previously served as Coordinator of Asian Studies.
