The Good Earth Pearl Buck's novel, TheGood Earth, is one of her trilogy written in the 30s referring to the richsoil in China's river plains. We nowbrush into the ever-present particle that clings to clothes and fills the airin the northeast: dust. Growing up in a rainforest coastal town in the Philippinesmeant verdant fields. A speck of dust wasan intruder, the presence of its kind an indication of a duster's lethargy not abundance. With the accelerated cutting of trees from the forest came stirreddust twice a day from passenger buses that plied the Aparri-Laoag traffic. Soon, dust was no longer a benign stranger tobe gently nudged out but an enemy to be banished, belligerently guardedfrom. Their tribe multiplied with thelogging trucks. Unless the rains failed to arrive as scheduled, Aparri's dustdrenched with the sand. We were a deltaat the mouth of the Cagayan River and the sand was more plentiful than theirairborne cousins. Still, I developed theobsession of dusting while I grew older. I tolerated or fought the dust, depending which nook of the planet I wasin, tolerating it in Saipan where one mostly grabbed the hankie while inhaling dustat the motorbike races north of Banzai Cliff. It was in Kano, Nigeria where I was overwhelmed by dust inthe air, confronted for the first time by a humongous sand storm from theSahara forcing our Lagos-bound plane to prematurely land. I ended up in Ijede by the Lagos Lagoon so Ilearned to tolerate the soil as part of the scenery rather as grime. Specks of soil were my first nemesis in Dong Bei, not because they were present but because they weretolerated everywhere. And, yes, it iseverywhere. I lived for three years ending last year on the 11thfloor of SAU's Friendship Villa where the faculty and staff of the InternationalEducation College were located and where foreigners are billeted. For the absence of a northern sun in the roomassigned to me, I went for a south-facing room that received the sun all yearround. A mistake. It also faced a four-lane street to thecoal-littered grounds of the steam generating plant across, with swirling dust on the uplift of the Siberian winds that sweptdown Manchuria's plains. Spoiled for the adequacy of University heat and water, I wastolerant of the outside dust as long as I had it under control in my room. A wet mop was a constant, never far fromperiodic touches to the floor and accumulations in ends and corners got thereach of hand rugs. The PMI (particulate matter index) alert is quite literally anothermatter! When I moved off-campus, I realized how valuable the water wasand how the dust is taken for granted in peoples' daily lives. My solarium plants drown in H20; myneighbor's are misted. My plants are robustwhile the neighbor's are like bonsai. Shefavors plants that require little dampness. Half of her garden grows cacti. Myspider plants with a taro and a few florae bearing white flowers that bloom inthe morning and pink in the evening join crawling vines next to the laundryline while bell peppers droop their branches. I germinate durian seeds in the cold! My neighbor washes clothes and utensils on the sidewalk. She uses the water well before it is thrownout into the street to settle the dust on the ground. Sponged bath gets the children cleaned, withliberal use of wash clothes applied to strategic lymph nodes to insure hygiene. I've since learned how to handle water, the kitchen faucets nolonger continuously heard running; ditto on shower spouts. I also discovered why the toilet bowl doesnot hold standing water; one does not flush in doing number three. It goes down by gravity! My host family's home near downtown Shenyang proved to be a painfulvenue of an unforgettable learning occasion. The host Mama went out to the store after a festive meal while the housePapa snored in bed, so I had the kitchen to myself. I did my hosts a favor, dusting off the piledChinese cabbage, washed the carrots, potatoes, and radishes on the kitchensolarium. A mistake. It turned out the soil delayed the veggiesrotting, absorbing the dampness as it dried, giving it the protective cover neededrather than the rapid wrinkling of the skin exposed to air after cleaned. Dust bugged me in San Jose at Oleai. That was benign compared to the PMI that alarmsDong Bei lungs. Temperature feels cold evenunder sunshine compared to the greenhouse effect of smog that retains atmosphericheat in the overcast skies; this welcomed paradox goes with the facemask. Host mother lost cover protection of thecabbage outer leaves, and the carrot-potato-radish aged faster due to mydust-phobia. Turkey and pumpkin are in American tables tomorrow, started ina rite of gratitude for the Good Earth's bounty when Massachusetts’s indigenes andPilgrim neighbors feasted on the fruits of the New England soil. Dust on the food table these days is my good earth's bountyin Manchuria; also, the color of my true loves hair! j'aime la vie yesterday, appreciate; tomorrow, anticipate; today. participate. In all, celebrate! __._,_.___ Posted by: wangzhimu2031@aol.com Reply via web post • Reply to sender • Reply to group • Start a New Topic • Messages in this topic (1) VISIT YOUR GROUP • Privacy • Unsubscribe • Terms of Use . __,_._,___