V. The Foreign Lei Feng

(1) My Unforgettable Train Journey

During the summer of 2010, China University of Geosciences (Wuhan) organized a volunteer teaching program in Northwest China. Hearing about the significant Muslim population in this region, I was keen to explore it, so I signed up for the program. Our team of two Somali international students and two Chinese students embarked on a journey to the small town of Haishiwan in Northwest China.

We boarded the train at four o'clock that afternoon and arrived at our destination the next day after five o'clock in the afternoon, spending exactly twenty-four hours on the train! Yes, we had purchased hard seat tickets, and I learned that train tickets come in the varieties of hard seat and sleeper. This long journey made me realize how vast China is, and how endless twenty-four hours can be. Inside the hard seat carriage, almost everyone's eyes seemed to be locked on us. Every move we made, whether sipping water, eating, using the restroom, or even closing our eyes, was observed by fellow passengers. At first, we felt quite uneasy, but our Chinese fellow students appeared nonchalant. Eventually, we grew accustomed to the attention and became rather indifferent. We went from sitting upright and self-conscious to collapsing in exhaustion, slumbering on the table. In the hard seat carriage, every time the train stopped, people got on and off. By the time dawn broke, the faces around us had rotated several times, and I suspect we had also startled many passengers who hadn't expected to see us there. Come morning, everyone seemed to know us better, and they approached us with greetings. In the beginning, they weren't sure if I could speak Chinese, so they waved and said, "Hi!" When they received our response, many of them began asking questions: "Do you speak Chinese?" "How long have you been in China?" "Where did you learn Chinese?" We patiently answered each question with the help of our Chinese fellow students. Soon the atmosphere in the carriage became lively, and everyone felt at ease. Our fellow passengers expressed their curiosity and fondness for us in a friendly manner, and we joked with them in return. At that point, we truly began to relax.

Amongst the international students, we had conversations about the types of questions Chinese people love to ask, and we found that the most commonly asked questions were, "Have you eaten?" "How old are you?" "How many people are in your family?" "What do you think of China?" "Is learning Chinese difficult?" "Can you write Chinese characters?" At first, we were curious why Chinese people loved to ask these questions. Many international students would feel offended when asked questions about their age and family members upon their first meetings. Yet, as time passed and we spent more time in China, we gradually realized that this was just a way for Chinese people to greet and connect. Their intent was not to intrude into your privacy. They didn't truly want to know if you had eaten; it was just a form of warm greeting. Asking these personal questions was their way of wanting to understand us more and learn how we were adjusting to life in China, gauging our feelings about the country. Viewing it from the Chinese perspective, it all made sense, and we learned to appreciate it.

Many times, when I encountered warm-hearted Chinese people, they would greet me with a tentative "Hi." Nowadays, I usually respond with a simple "Ni Hao" (meaning "Hello" in Chinese) rather than “Hi”, which is a little trick I've developed when conversing with Chinese people. When they approach me with an initial greeting in English, I reply in Chinese, friendly hinting at my proficiency in the language and my readiness to communicate in Chinese. This is a considerate way to approach conversations from the other person's perspective.

At that time, my Chinese expression wasn't particularly fluent, but my fellow Somali student had good Chinese skills. As the conversation progressed, our fellow passengers noticed our friendliness and sociability, and more and more passengers began to congregate around our seats. People began to ask us about our destination and our purpose for the trip. I explained that my fellow students and I were going to Haishiwan to teach English as volunteers. As soon as the words left my mouth, we received enthusiastic thumbs up from some of the passengers. Someone even commented, "It’s amazing to see you foreigners going to such a remote place to volunteer!" We were given a taste of sunflower seeds, a local snack we hadn’t tried before. Unsure of how to eat them, we observed the people around us and imitated their actions. We ended up biting too hard, crushing the shells and the seeds. The passengers couldn't help but laugh at our initial inexperience with eating sunflower seeds, and then they taught us how to eat. That was the first time I had sunflower seeds, and I thought they tasted average, but now I occasionally buy some sunflower seeds to munch on while watching TV. At that point, we realized that Chinese people were incredibly warm-hearted and hospitable. They guided us on how to eat sunflower seeds while asking us whether Somalia has similar snacks. I replied in the negative, and they explained that in China, sunflower seeds are essential train journey snack, perfect for passing the time. They told me that sunflower seeds are commonly enjoyed during gatherings with family and friends and while watching TV. I shared with them that, in our country, Somalia, when friends gather for leisurely conversations, we would indulge in tea. My mention of tea surprised everyone; they hadn't expected that Africans also enjoyed tea. They thought I was referring to Chinese tea. As a matter of fact, our tea culture in Somalia differs from that of China. Chinese tea is commonly brewed from large tea leaves, without the addition of sugar. While China has a wide variety of tea, many people prefer green tea and its transformation from bitterness to a sweet aftertaste on the palate. In contrast, in Somalia, we import tea powder from Arab countries and then process and prepare the tea ourselves. Our regular tea consists of two main types: traditional black tea and a special version prepared with fresh goat milk. Both varieties are generously sweetened, making them distinctly sugary in taste.

During the daytime on the train, passengers from diverse backgrounds engaged in lively conversations, discussing a wide range of topics. The atmosphere was vibrant and enjoyable. However, when it came time to sleep at night, our journey took a less enjoyable turn. Due to our choice of hard seat tickets, we were required to sit throughout the night, an experience that proved to be highly uncomfortable. Sleep eluded me, and I could only wait in silent anticipation for the morning light to break.

(2) The Small Town in Northwest China

After enduring a grueling 24-hour journey in hard seats, our train finally arrived at our destination. As we disembarked, the curious gazes of many onlookers were fixated on my compatriot and me. The school, where we were to carry out our educational support, had arranged for a vehicle to pick us up and transport us to our lodging. Given our late arrival, around seven or eight in the evening, the surroundings remained obscured by the nightfall. According to the head of the school, our accommodations were situated adjacent to the school and were, in fact, a residence owned by a local resident.

Upon getting off the vehicle, during the short walk to our residence, I could already sense a noticeable drop in temperature. I was grateful for the advice given to me by my Chinese fellow students, who had thoughtfully reminded me to bring a few extra layers. Despite it being July, a month notorious for scorching heat in Wuhan, this Northwestern town carried a refreshing and slightly chilly breeze, offering an entirely distinct climatic experience.

The next morning, I made a point of waking up early to get a sense of the surroundings. As I cautiously opened the door, I was greeted by the sight of six or seven children huddled near my room, their faces a canvas of curiosity. Their initial reaction to seeing me was one of excitement as they said to each other, "Wow, a foreigner!" A few of the youngsters, timidly but sweetly, extended greetings with a hesitant "HELLO." In response, I greeted them with a friendly "Ni Hao", conveying that I could converse in Chinese. The children were utterly astonished upon hearing me speak Mandarin, and their courage grew, causing them to approach me. Since we were all Muslims, I employed Muslim customs to greet the older children by shaking their hands. For the younger ones, I kept it simple with a friendly "Ni Hao." The children surrounded me, and I inquired about their names, ages, school grades, and whether they had ever met foreigners before. Eventually, running out of questions, I was still the focus of their attention, which made me feel slightly self-conscious. I explained that I needed to freshen up, which prompted the children, albeit reluctantly, to disperse eventually.

I was responsible for teaching English to first, second, and third-grade students. I conducted two to three classes per day, four days a week, with each grade having one class consisting of around 30 students. This sums up to over 90 children in total. At precisely eight in the morning, I began by teaching the second-grade students. Upon entering the classroom, I could immediately feel the enthusiasm of students, who greeted me with a constant stream of "Hi". During my lessons, I covered relatively simple English concepts, such as the alphabet, basic greetings, and asking for one's name. Some of the children had had prior exposure to English, while others were complete beginners. When I asked questions, they eagerly participated, with each child raising their hand and excitedly exclaiming, "Me, me, me!" Some were so enthusiastic that they even stood up. After class, the children often gathered around me, reluctant to let me leave the classroom. While their English proficiency might be limited, they continuously attempted to converse with me in English. Even during lunchtime at the cafeteria, we were encircled by many children.

After finishing our midday meal, our Chinese fellow students suggested taking us for a stroll around the school's vicinity. As we walked along the streets, we attracted the attention of many passersby. In fact, two individuals on motorcycles collided because they were so fixated on us. Fortunately, it resulted in only a minor incident, with no serious consequences. At that time, there were relatively few foreigners in China, and many residents in this small Northwestern town were encountering foreigners for the first time. Consequently, people were intensely curious about us. Thankfully, we had grown accustomed to these inquisitive gazes. As we continued on our way, we encountered a multitude of onlookers. Some individuals even approached us and greeted us with a friendly "Hello." Over time, news spread throughout the town that two foreigners had come to the school to provide educational support. After just over ten days, we started receiving invitations for meals. These gatherings featured an array of dishes, including chicken, lamb, and beef – a substantial feast. It was the first time in my extensive stay in China that I had enjoyed such a rich and familiar meal. The flavors of the dishes closely resembled those from my homeland, stirring a longing for home within me.

The streets of this town were adorned with numerous shops selling Muslim attire, a sight that filled me with an immediate sense of belonging. I promptly entered one of the shops and purchased a set of clothing to wear when attending prayers with friends. While shopping, I greeted the shop owner in the customary Muslim manner, which initially surprised the owner. However, his demeanor quickly warmed, and he even gave me a discount. During my stay in China, despite being here for nearly a year and a half, I had only one set of Muslim attire, which I had brought from Somalia, as I had been unable to find any stores selling Muslim clothing in Wuhan. Consequently, when I left this small town, I bought two more sets of Muslim attire and prayer mats, and I presented one set to a friend in Wuhan, who was immensely delighted and expressed gratitude for a considerable amount of time.

(3) The Astonishing Rural China

As we embarked on our journey from Wuhan, numerous kind-hearted individuals had donated backpacks, clothing, and other gifts for the children. Our Chinese fellow students facilitated the distribution of these presents during home visits. We were four students in total, divided into two groups, each consisting of one Chinese student and one international student. It was our responsibility to take turns delivering these gifts to the students' homes.

We traveled with students on their way back to their homes. However, there were no public buses or bicycles for them to ride home; most of them relied on walking. It took us approximately half an hour of walking to reach the students' residences. The soil there had a reddish hue, but due to being dampened with water, dust was relatively minimal. Each residence had a grand entrance, and upon passing through the main gate, we could see enclosures for both sheep and cattle. Most of the houses were constructed from mud, and even the beds, known locally as "kang," were crafted from the same material.

A few students' homes lacked televisions, containing only aging tea tables and a few small stools. The interior spaces were dimly lit. Sometimes, the students' parents were absent, leaving only their grandparents behind. Our Chinese fellow students would introduce us to the parents, explaining that we were international students from Wuhan. Initially, the parents were somewhat reserved in conversing with me, but their hospitality was immediately apparent. They quickly kindled a firewood stove, brewed tea for us, and even offered to prepare meals. Not wanting to impose on them too much, we would generally devise an excuse, explaining that we needed to visit other students' homes, and promptly took our leave.

At the time, I hadn't been in China for very long, just a little over a year, and my understanding of the country was rather superficial. Witnessing such poverty in China was a significant shock. The conditions and environments in the students' homes were strikingly similar to rural areas in my own country. Prior to this experience, I had assumed that all parts of China enjoyed the same level of development as cities like Wuhan.

The living conditions there were relatively modest, and the children's clothing showed signs of wear. They embarked on a long journey every day to reach their school, and at that moment, I couldn't help but feel a deep empathy for the hardships these children endured. Even now, I occasionally find myself pondering the lives of the people in that place. Are they faring well? Is the town still burdened by poverty? Do those children still trek such long distances to attend school? My wife told me that the people in Northwest China now enjoy a much-improved quality of life. This is largely attributed to the Chinese government's dedicated poverty alleviation efforts. China has successfully lifted eight hundred million people out of poverty, granting them the prosperity they used to long for.

Over the years of my stay in China, as I witnessed its rapid development, I have come to believe in my wife's words, convinced that the town is indeed progressing for the better. I can't help but admire the Chinese government's capabilities, and this leads me to reflect on my home country's ongoing struggle with issues like famine. In comparison, it can't help but invoke a sense of envy. How did China manage to lift eight hundred million people out of poverty, and how did they carry out targeted poverty alleviation? It might be difficult for our friends back in Africa to imagine, or they might consider it almost unbelievable, but in China, it seems that almost anything is possible.

I taught English in that small northwestern town for a little over a month, leaving just as the summer break came to an end. Upon departure, students presented me with numerous gifts, including flowers and bracelets. One older student even took down my QQ ID — QQ was a popular instant messenger in China. Upon returning to Wuhan, I accepted his friend request, and he later messaged me inquiring whether I would return for the next semester.

At the time of my volunteer teaching, my Chinese language proficiency was not particularly high, and I sometimes feel regretful that I couldn't provide the students with greater assistance. Presently, I yearn to revisit, as my Chinese language skills have improved substantially. Returning to teach them now would certainly yield different results.

Although my stay in Haishiwan town was brief, lasting just over a month, the memories from that experience remain vivid. Among those recollections, there is warmth, and there are also profound emotions. Today, when I look at my own two children, I often reminisce about the children in that faraway place. I still remember their names, especially those few who would frequently engage in conversations with me. It was this experience that propelled me further down the path of volunteering, enriching my life with invaluable experiences.

 (4) Volunteering during the Spring Festival Travel Rush

During my time studying in Wuhan, I had the privilege of serving as a volunteer during the Spring Festival travel rush on two separate occasions. When the Chinese New Year approaches, many foreigners would choose not to return to their home countries. Some do so to save on travel expenses, while others seek to explore China during this unique holiday. There are also those who would use this opportunity to experience the rich traditions of the Chinese New Year. Therefore, when the university recruited volunteers for this bustling travel season, many international students, including me, eagerly signed up.

For my first stint as a volunteer for the Spring Festival travel rush, I was stationed at the entrance of the Wuchang Railway Station. It was the eve of Chinese New Year, and my responsibilities included assisting passengers with ticket purchases, providing directions, and helping them with their luggage. We assembled at 6:00 AM, long before dawn had broken, and the world was still cloaked in darkness. The biting cold only added to the challenges. We remained busy until six or seven in the evening, with scarcely a moment for a meal. The railway station was constantly swarmed with people, and it felt like a sea of humanity. Travelers of all sorts were laden with bags of various sizes, rushing about in a whirlwind. While I had seen such scenes on television before, being in the midst of it all was genuinely awe-inspiring.

During that time, some amusing incidents occurred. I remember one Chinese man who struggled to use the self-service ticket machine. I offered to assist him, purchasing his ticket on his behalf. He was so astonished that he remarked, "I can't believe I just let a foreigner teach me how to buy a ticket." Additionally, some people brought their children to take photographs with us. These youngsters were immensely curious about seeing foreigners for the first time. They would often ask me various questions, such as how long I had been in China and what my experience was like as a volunteer for the Spring Festival travel rush. Many people expressed their gratitude and even offered us small gifts in appreciation. Some even added me on WeChat. Later, I noticed my photo on their WeChat moments along with their compliments and gratitude. This filled me with a deep sense of emotion and joy, knowing that my efforts were being recognized and appreciated.

When I was just starting to learn Chinese in China, my language teacher once screened the movie Lost on Journey for our class. The film features a story about the Spring Festival travel rush. At that time, I didn't fully grasp the deeper story behind the Spring Festival but found the movie to be exceptionally humorous and intriguing. This prompted numerous questions in my mind, such as why do Chinese people return home only once a year, and why do they all choose the same day for their homecoming? However, as I spent more time in China, I began to unravel the profound significance beneath those scenes. When I finally witnessed the Spring Festival travel rush in person, I saw countless people, a sea of humanity, packed together. Each person held bags, both large and small, and some even cradled their children. Despite the hardships of the journey, I could see the joy in their eyes and the smiles on their faces, an anticipation of reuniting with their families. Even though the journey home was arduous, they persisted in bringing gifts to their loved ones. I was deeply moved and couldn't help but think of my own family; it had been six long years since I last returned home. It was this profound experience as a volunteer for the Spring Festival travel rush that spurred me to save money and visit my family back home.

In my own country, we also celebrate grand festivals such as Eid al-Fitr, during which families come together to celebrate. We, too, travel from various places to reunite with our loved ones, sharing a meal together in the evening, often accompanied by singing and dancing. However, our nation is geographically smaller, and the distances we need to travel are usually manageable within a day. Furthermore, our population is relatively smaller compared to China's, so we don't experience the massive population migration seen during the Chinese Spring Festival. The vast expanse of China, coupled with its large population, results in a unique phenomenon during the Spring Festival. As many young people are working in economically developed cities like Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou and given the costly air travel during holidays, they generally choose to travel by train, giving rise to the colossal event known as the "Spring Festival travel rush."

One year, I accompanied my wife back to her hometown to celebrate the Spring Festival, where I had the pleasure of meeting many of her close friends and family. During one of our meals, the family insisted that I try a dish called "yuanzi," which are round fish meatballs. Although I wasn't sure why, I obliged, and with the first bite, I was captivated by the exquisite taste. After the meal, my wife explained that this dish is named "yuanzi" because of its round shape and the homophonic nature of the word "yuan," which means "reunion." "Yuanzi" thus encapsulates the beautiful Chinese wish for every family to be united during the Spring Festival, year after year. I was pleasantly surprised to learn about the profound symbolism behind this dish. My wife further shared that Chinese New Year feasts are carefully selected, and apart from "yuanzi," there is another indispensable element — fish. "Yu," the Chinese word for fish, sounds like the word for "surplus," and consuming fish during the Spring Festival expresses the desire for an abundance of prosperity, wishing for everyone to lead a wealthy life with more than enough food to ensure no one goes hungry. It was fascinating to discover that the Chinese have encoded their aspirations for the coming year within these dishes.

My wife went on to tell me that, in addition to embedding well-wishes within their food, Chinese people also convey blessings through red envelopes during the Spring Festival. Adults give children and the elderly red envelopes containing money, known as "yasuiqian," as it is believed that these envelopes protect children from evil spirits and ensure their safety throughout the year. For the elderly, it symbolizes wishes for longevity.

In Somalia, we also give money to children during Eid al-Fitr, but it is not concealed within envelopes. The amount is openly visible, which we consider to be more equitable and less likely to create favoritism among children. We ensure that the same amount is given to each child.

Through my experience as a volunteer for the Spring Festival travel rush, I gained a more vivid and comprehensive understanding of the Chinese New Year. When I compared it with the festivals in my homeland, I came to appreciate the universal human essence. We all yearn for the joy of family reunions and the blessings of a prosperous life, as Karl Marx aptly noted, "The pursuit of the beauty of harmony is an instinct of humankind." Furthermore, my time as a volunteer offered me not only the gratification of helping others but also a unique perspective on the Spring Festival, which led me to seek that experience again the following year when I once more volunteered my services.

During my second stint as a volunteer for the Spring Festival travel rush, I was stationed at the Wuhan Railway Station, mainly assisting passengers with directions and helping them with their luggage. Wuhan's winter can be particularly frigid, and the wind is piercing. Even though I had donned a hat, gloves, and wrapped myself in a scarf, prolonged exposure to the outdoor elements made me feel like I might turn into an "icicle."

While stationed at the railway station's entrance, I observed a Chinese individual approach a few passersby to ask for directions, yet it appeared that the passersby were also unsure of the way and could not offer clear guidance. Seeing this, I stepped forward and inquired if there was anything I could assist with. When I provided them with directions, they were visibly astonished that a foreigner like me seemed to have a better understanding than some locals.

Upon completing my volunteer work that day and heading home, I encountered an elderly Chinese woman at a bus stop. She was holding several large bags and appeared to be studying the station signs. I noticed she was somewhat bewildered about which bus to take, and she seemed reluctant to ask for help from me, as there were only two of us on the platform at the time. She probably thought, being a foreigner, I wouldn't understand, so she didn't approach me. Recognizing her situation, I approached her and asked, "Is there something I can assist you with?" When she heard me speak in Chinese, she was genuinely surprised, exclaiming, "You speak Chinese so well! How long have you been in China?" After I answered her questions, she explained that she needed to get to Hankou Railway Station but couldn't read Chinese characters, so she couldn't decipher the bus signs or know which bus to take. I provided her with information about which bus to board, where to disembark, and the directions from there. She was extremely grateful, expressing her thanks multiple times, even extending a heartfelt New Year's blessing to me as she boarded the bus.

These expressions of gratitude and goodwill made me feel remarkably warm, and suddenly, the winter didn't seem quite as cold.

  (5) The Foreign Mediator at the Police Station

During my academic years, I consistently volunteered my services in the university’s orientation activities. My primary responsibility was to welcome and assist incoming students at the train station and airport, helping them with their enrollment procedures. For the first three years, I focused on receiving new students at the train station and airport. As my proficiency in Chinese improved and my familiarity with orientation work deepened, I transitioned to assisting international students with registration and enrollment procedures on campus.

I vividly recall one occasion when I was picking up new students at the airport's international arrivals area. An airport staff member approached me, inquiring about my role and how long I had been involved in this work. After I explained my responsibilities, he handed me his business card, hoping that I could volunteer as a foreign mediator at a police station in Wuhan. He believed my proficiency in Chinese and diligent work ethic made me a suitable candidate.

It was only later that I discovered he held a significant position at the police station. Through this serendipitous encounter, I was presented with the opportunity to serve as a foreign volunteer at Wuluo Community Foreign Affairs Police Office. This role allowed me to interact with a diverse range of Chinese and foreign individuals, and in mediating international disputes, I gained knowledge that extended beyond what I could learn in a classroom. It also provided me with a more profound understanding of Chinese government departments.

The first dispute I had to mediate involved two Congolese students who accidentally spilled coffee on a passing Chinese individual at a café. The Congolese students had already apologized to the Chinese, but their inability to understand each other's language led to misunderstandings, and eventually prompting a police report. Upon arriving at the police station, I assisted in translating and clarifying the misunderstanding, ultimately resolving the issue amicably. Both parties were very appreciative of my assistance. These two Congolese students later became my friends, and we occasionally gathered for meals.

This was my first experience mediating such a situation, and through this coordination process, I became acutely aware of the seriousness of misunderstandings caused by language barriers. Making the lives of foreigners in China more convenient is the core mission of the very first Foreign Affairs Police Office set up in Wuluo Community. I consider myself fortunate to be a part of this initiative, which helped deepen my understanding of China.

On another occasion, a Somali compatriot who had recently arrived in China had an accident. She boarded a bus on her way to school, paid her fare, and was about to walk towards the back of the bus when the driver abruptly hit the brakes. She lost her balance and fell, resulting in an injury to her waist that rendered her unable to walk. Her command of Chinese was limited to a few simple phrases, and she couldn't communicate with the driver. Consequently, she decided to contact the police. On receiving the call, I accompanied her to the hospital. I helped her with the registration process, obtained the necessary medications, and assisted in arranging her hospitalization procedures. Her recovery took a week, and her hospitalization expenses were covered by the insurance company of the public transportation company. She expressed deep gratitude for the consistent support provided by the police station. After her discharge, she made a special visit to the police station to convey her heartfelt appreciation.

While many of these mediation cases might appear as minor issues or inconveniences, each time I helped someone resolve a problem, I felt an immense sense of pride and accomplishment. It was as though I were a bridge facilitating communication between foreigners and Chinese citizens.

During my tenure as a foreign mediator at Wuluo Community Foreign Affairs Police Office, I gradually evolved from a mere interpreter to someone assisting the police station in handling disputes involving foreign nationals. My responsibilities included patrolling, inspecting the registration status of international students, answering emergency calls, and offering legal and policy consultation services to foreign individuals. With time, I grew increasingly proficient in the daily operations of the police station, and I also developed a deep respect for their dedication. I must admit that China's management of foreign nationals is highly organized, ensuring our peace of mind.

In reality, many foreigners around me used to be apprehensive about the police. Before coming to China, we had heard rumors that law enforcement officers might favor locals. However, throughout my time at the police station, I never encountered such a situation. On the contrary, the officers were consistently friendly and often extended a helping hand to foreign individuals facing difficulties. For example, there was a middle-aged man from Djibouti who had been deceived by his relatives into coming to China. He only had a high school diploma, couldn't speak Chinese, and struggled to find employment. When his visa expired, he wanted to return home, but his family refused to provide him with the money for an airline ticket and prevented him from leaving the country. When his predicament became known, some individuals initially promised to sponsor his return flight but ultimately did not follow through. He eventually found me, and I accompanied him to the police station. There, we explained his situation to the officers. In the end, it was the police who provided him with assistance and an airline ticket, enabling him to return home. Encounters like this, which I witnessed several times during my tenure as a foreign volunteer, left me deeply impressed. I must acknowledge that the Chinese government operates in a flexible and compassionate manner. Although not always publicly declared, the Chinese government has quietly done many good deeds.

During my leisure hours, I frequently took shifts at the police station. Sometimes, when Chinese individuals came in for various services, they were often surprised to see me there. They would approach me, inquiring about my role, engaging in conversations, and occasionally even adding me on WeChat. Some of these individuals later became my friends. Even the staff at the police station would occasionally compliment us, saying that we foreign volunteers were very well-liked for dealing with matters. The opportunity to provide assistance to others brought us immense joy and satisfaction.

When I was not on duty, my contact number was available in the mediation room, allowing those in need to contact me directly. Over the years at the police station, I've developed the habit of keeping my phone on, ready and available 24 hours a day. Admittedly, there were moments when it could be bothersome, as I received inquiries ranging from dispute resolutions to medical concerns and housing issues, often even late into the night. There were times when fatigue tempted me to ignore these calls, but my conscience prevailed, ultimately compelling me to put on my clothes and lend a helping hand.

Indeed, my years as a foreign volunteer at the police station allowed me to delve into the everyday lives of ordinary Chinese people, providing me a more comprehensive and objective understanding of contemporary Chinese society. There, I made substantial strides in my spoken Chinese, and my problem-solving abilities were also honed well. Furthermore, those experiences have significantly benefited my subsequent career and life, as I acquired a deep understanding of the regulations and laws when living and working in China. When I relocated to Beijing for work, I navigated the necessary procedures with ease. While the life and work proceed at a more relaxed pace in my home country, my years as a volunteer at the police station in Wuhan acquainted me with China's rapid work rhythm, allowing me to adapt swiftly to new working environments. Notably, my services at the police station also introduced me to a host of Chinese and foreign friends. During my academic years, my interactions were primarily limited to classmates and professors. Yet, through this role, I expanded my social circle significantly, encountering a diverse array of individuals who acted as windows into different lives, both within China and across various countries and cities, thus substantially broadening my perspective.

(6) Who is Lei Feng?

As a result of my multiple involvements in volunteer service activities, I was honored by my university with the title "Foreign Lei Feng." At the time, I had no idea what these three words meant, nor did I grasp the significance behind them. I presumed that this award, much like the certificates I had received for my previous volunteer work, was just an ordinary piece of paper, so I didn't give it much thought.

It wasn't until a later conversation with a Chinese friend that I began to understand the true weight of this recognition. While chatting, I casually mentioned that I had been awarded the "Foreign Lei Feng" accolade, and my friend's expression immediately changed. He looked at me with great admiration and said, "You must be quite remarkable." Confused by his reaction, I questioned why he would think so highly of me based on a mere mention of the "Foreign Lei Feng" award. My friend could tell I was perplexed and asked, "Do you know who Lei Feng is?" I admitted that I wasn't entirely sure. He was genuinely shocked and proceeded to enlighten me. It turned out that the person printed on the back of the red vests worn by the volunteers I often saw on the streets, in the campuses, at the stations and other places was actually Lei Feng!

According to him, Lei Feng, despite being an ordinary Chinese citizen, had dedicated his life to performing countless acts of kindness, helping numerous people. As a result, he holds a special place in the hearts of Chinese people. From the elderly to young children, every Chinese citizen knows who Lei Feng is. In fact, China designates March 5th as "Learn from Lei Feng Day" annually, encouraging people to follow Lei Feng's example and engage in acts of kindness.

After listening to his account of Lei Feng's story, I was not only deeply moved but also filled with admiration. I greatly admire Lei Feng's selfless acts of kindness and the way he chose to remain anonymous, as well as the way the Chinese people commemorate his deeds. In ancient China, the renowned historian Sima Qian wrote in his work Records of the Grand Historian the famous quote: "Though death befalls all men alike, it may be weightier than Mount Tai or lighter than a feather." This saying conveys the idea that every person will eventually reach the end of their life journey, but the value of each person's life varies. Some individuals make substantial contributions to society, and after their passing, they are remembered and celebrated, while others leave behind a more modest legacy. None of us can determine the length of our lives, but we can influence the quality of our lives. We can learn from Lei Feng, contribute our efforts to helping others, and make our lives more meaningful.

As a matter of fact, many friends have asked me why I participate in numerous volunteer activities, given that it seems like a tiring endeavor. I always respond by saying, "Yes, it can be tiring, but the more I give, the more I gain. Every time I assist others, I experience a profound sense of joy and fulfillment from within." Having lived in China for so many years, I have been the recipient of numerous acts of kindness from others, and I believe in paying it forward by helping those in need to the best of my ability.

Many of my fellow international students around me were also engaged in volunteer work. Some showed great courage in aiding those in distress, some traveled to remote areas to teach English, and others, despite their limited financial resources, persistently contributed to Hope Primary Schools. We all willingly participated in volunteer activities like welcoming new students at the start of each semester, shoveling snow on snowy days, or assisting with large-scale events such as setting up tables and chairs. The prevailing atmosphere of volunteerism around us was inspiring, and we were all filled with gratitude and love for life. This is one of the reasons I have been a committed volunteer for so many years.