Orchid

When I was in grad school, years and years ago, I knew a Chinese woman name Yalan. Her name means “Orchid”, she told me, and didn’t let other people call her by it because they always butchered it. The accent is on the first syllable, and the rest should just sort of roll off the tongue. I asked her to teach me how to say it properly, and she did as well as she could with a kid from Tennessee.

I don’t know that I ever got it right, but she appreciated the effort.

One evening, she asked me to share her dinner. It was a small meal of noodles, vegetables and some chicken wings. Very good, in my estimate.

With dinner I got story. She had a husband and child in China. And the two Mongolian Chinese guys who had no interest in English literature or culture who were also enrolled were most likely there to keep an eye on her. “They will not let my husband or my son leave the country,” she told me. “They are hostages to make sure I come back.”

The last time I saw her was during the uprising in the 80’s. She appeared on a TV program in Waco, TX, and said she was going back to China, almost certainly to be arrested for speaking out on American TV about the lack of freedom her fellow citizens suffered.

I don’t know what ever happened to her. I hope she’s back with her husband and son, and that the two Mongolians have quit following her around.

Yalan. My Orchid. Tonight I pray for you and your family. May God hold you close and protect you, keep you safe and give you the strength and courage to fight another day.