Illustration by 魏文绮
Note from Kuang:
跟马南如聊天特别有趣，她说话总是不经意间透出诗意和哲理。有一段她说的话我印象深刻，没有加在文章，在这里分享：“人其实跟蚂蚁一样，有些人自认为了不起，高高在上。他们没意识到，就算你是王，也只是蚂蚁国的国王。”
It’s a delight to talk with Ma Nanru. Poetic and philosophical observations are always slipping into her speech. In particular one thing she said left a deep impression on me. It wasn’t included in the article so I’d like to share it here: “Human beings are like ants. Some believe themselves to be extraordinary and aspire to high status above everyone else. They don’t seem to realize that even if you are king, you are only a king in the kingdom of ants.”
Ma Nanru, 57 years old, from Beijing, violinist
I was baptized in 1989 and became a Christian that year. Since then, I’ve shed my physical body and shut the channel between myself and this earthly world.
What does that mean? It means I no longer cling to the world and have no more expectations for it. It has made life so much easier.
People’s greed is what makes things complicated. They chase after money, buying this and buying that. I have no more attachments to this world, so I can skip all that tireless chasing. I earn just enough money to get by, I eat just enough food so that I’m full. I’m happy to wear the same clothes for 1o years. All my energy can go into the things I truly love to do. This freedom is an infinite source of power.
My true passion is music. I was 43 years old when I started to learn the violin.
In the beginning, I was just accompanying my daughter to her violin lessons. She was only five when she started learning from an esteemed violinist.
I remember the first time the instructor started to play. I was immediately taken—the musical notes crawled into my ears, burrowed deep into the cavity of my bosom, and seemed to explode inside me. My eyes followed every tiny movement in the teacher’s hands, my ears soaked up every note like the desert absorbing even the tiniest drop of moisture.
I decided to learn alongside my daughter. No matter how busy I got, through high winds and thunderstorms, I never skipped a single lesson.
I need to work during the day, then take care of my daughter after work, not to mention all the house chores. It’s only after my daughter goes to bed that I can draw some time for practice. I practice late into the night and often fall asleep still holding the violin. When I wake up, the first thing I do is reach for it and continue practicing. In the early morning I like to go to a nearby park and play. Strumming the chords as the birds chirp and a soft wind rustles the leaves, the music feels sublime.
My daughter learned the violin for 10 years, and I persisted like this for 10 years. Every day I kept the same practice routine, only sleeping for three hours a night.
The teacher was deeply moved by my commitment. He later rented a storefront to sell violins that he made himself. He asked me to come work in his store. I’ve worked there for over a decade now, and it’s the most important thing in my life. I arrive early each morning and carefully wipe down every violin. Sometimes even after I get off work, I like to stay in the shop and enjoy its tranquility.
I’m not a “violin seller.” I would never play just because a customer asked me to. I don’t play the violin for others, I play it for myself. I always like to make sure my hands are washed and that my mind is at peace before I play.
My daughter is the same as me, passionate about violin. Even when she was little, I never had to remind her to practice. I never tried to preach to her, instead leaving her to figure things out by herself. Unlike most parents, I don’t center my world around my child, but try to have my own life. The day when my daughter was born, I looked into her eyes and whispers: “You are you, I am me. We are not one. We are separate individuals. We will respect one another.” All this time, we’ve been more like friends. Whatever she has on her mind she likes to share with me.
Last year, we stayed home together for a few months during the pandemic. She told me about a boy she had on at her high school. She said that the boy was an avid runner and he often ran on the school’s sports fields, lap after lap. She said one of the biggest joys of high school is having someone to think about every day.
Her dad was a runner too. Back then he was tall and thin, never hunching, always full of energy.
We were neighbors growing up, living in the same hutong. I married him at 34. When our daughter was 1 and 2 months old, he went to the United States by himself to pursue his American Dream. People called him heartless for leaving me and my daughter behind. But I can understand. Going to America was his dream. I know that he was willing to sacrifice everything for freedom.
All these years he hasn’t come back once. I’ve never asked him for money. I raised our child all by myself, filling the shoes of both mom and dad. I helped take care of my parents-in-law too.
When we call, he never talks much about his life in America, and I don’t ask. I know that life isn’t easy for him. It took him 20 years to get a Green Card. He’s worked mostly low-end jobs. He used to be a driver, but lost his job due to the pandemic. He now works as a bagger at a vegetable market, five days a week, eight hours per day, making 17 USD per hour.
Even though he is not earning much money, he is happy. He said life there is simple. His relationships with others are simple, no need for unnecessary disputes. You work a day, you get paid a day. Pork and shrimp is cheaper than in Beijing. He often asks me to come and join him.
It’s not that I haven’t thought about it. In the early years, my daughter was too young. Now that she’s grown up, my mom is getting old and I need to take care of her. Maybe one day after she’s moved on, I’ll go to America and reunite with my lover.
Yes, I still refer to him as my lover. I’ve waited for him for over 20 years, nobody here can understand. My older sister says that he has another woman in America, probably more than one. But I think as long as we never got divorced, I still have responsibilities toward him, toward our marriage.
I don’t resent him. I don’t resent anyone. Hatred is a bloodstain. Hating someone is equal to killing them. Instead of hating him, I’d rather love him.
The mug I use every day is a souvenir from our church’s one-hundredth anniversary. On it is a line that reads: “I love you with an eternal love.” I think to myself, this is how God loves us, and so it is how I’d like to love others, how I’d like to love everything.
Edited by Dan Xin Huang
马南如，57岁，北京人，小提琴手
我1989年接受洗礼，成为基督徒，从此脱离了这具肉身，向这个世界的通道也关闭。
什么意思呢？就是我不再贪恋这个世界了，对这个世界没有要求了，活得就好简单啊。
如果你贪恋这个世界，就很复杂，人人追着钱跑，又是买这个又是买那个。我不贪恋这个世界，我不用追，赚刚好够用的钱，吃刚好够的食物，同样一件衣服穿十年也没关系，做自己喜欢的事就行，做自己喜欢的事就有无穷的力量。
我的爱好就是音乐，43岁那年开始学小提琴。
原本只是陪我女儿去上课，她从5岁就跟着一位很有声望的老师。老师第一次开弓拉起手里的琴，那些音符迅速钻到我耳朵，进入我的胸腔，嗡地一声在我胸腔整个炸开。我眼睛紧紧跟随老师的手，竖起耳朵听每一个音符，像沙漠吸取水分。
我决心跟着女儿一起学，每周的课，不论有多忙，不论刮风下雨，我一节课不落。
白天上班，下了班要照顾女儿，还有一堆家务活。只有等女儿睡了，我才抽出时间练习，经常抱着琴睡觉，醒来第一件事就是摸向身边的琴，接着练。我经常大清早去附近的公园练习，琴声伴着鸟叫声，风吹树叶的声音，特别美。
女儿学琴十年，我也就坚持了十年，天天如此，一天只睡三个小时。
教琴的老师很受我的执着打动，后来租下一间小店做琴行，交给我照看。琴行到现在十几年，对我来说像生命一样重要。我每天早早来上班，仔细擦拭每一把琴，有时候即使下班了也愿意待在店里，享受这份清净。
我不是一个“卖琴的”，不会因为来店里的人想听就随随便便拉，拉琴不是为别人，而是给自己听，需要心静，手也得洗得干干净净的。
我女儿也是，离不开琴，从小练琴不需要我监督。我本来也就很少管她，凡事让她自己悟。跟大多数父母不一样，我不恋孩子，活的是我自己。女儿出生那天，我看着她默默说：“你是你，我是我，我们是分离的两个个体，我们互相尊重。”一直以来，我们更像是朋友，她有什么事也都爱跟我说。
去年因为疫情，我难得在家陪女儿。她跟我聊起高中喜欢的男生，说那个男生爱跑步，经常在学校的操场一圈一圈地跑。她说，整个高中最幸福的事，就是能有一个人天天想念。
她爸年轻时也爱跑步，高高瘦瘦，腰杆挺得笔直，走路从来不驼背，很精神。
我们是住在同一条胡同的邻居，从小一块长大。我34岁跟他结婚，女儿1岁两个月的时候，他只身一人去了美国，追求他的美国梦。身边的人说他狠心，只顾自己，丢下我们娘儿俩。可是我理解，那是他的梦啊。我知道他为了自由什么都愿意牺牲。
这么多年，他一次都没回来过。我从没伸手找他要过钱，一个人把孩子带大，又当爹又当妈，还帮忙照顾公婆。
他不大跟我细说在美国的生活，我也不多问。我能猜到他在那里也不容易，熬了二十年才拿到绿卡，做的也一直是比较低端的工作，以前开公交车，今年受疫情影响，开车的工作丢了，在每日鲜打包，一周上班5天，一天8小时，一小时17美元。
虽然赚的不多，但是他开心。他说生活在那里很简单，人际关系也简单，没有是非，干一天活拿一天的钱，猪肉，虾，都比这边便宜。他常让我过去。
我不是没想过去找他，早些年带着孩子，走不开。这几年孩子大了，我妈又上了年纪，需要人照顾。我想着把我妈送走之后，就到美国去和我爱人团聚。
是的，我对他的称呼还是“爱人。”我等了他二十多年，身边的人都不理解。我姐姐跟我说他在美国有女人，并且不止一个。可我想，既然我们没有离婚，我对他、对我们的婚姻就还有责任。
我不恨他，我谁都不恨。恨是心头血，恨人犹如杀人，恨他不如爱他。
我喝水用的杯子，是我们教会一百周年送的礼物，上面写着：“我以永远的爱爱你。”我想，上帝怎么爱我，我就怎么爱人，怎么爱一切。
Kuang is the founder of Beijing Lights. She would love to hear your thoughts about the column and is open to new collaborations. She can be reached at kuang [at] spittooncollective [dot] com.