Besançon: Jui-Chu And Sarah

I first encountered Jui-Chu at the "Dinner Without Boundaries" held by Protestants once a year. This sweet Taiwanese lady was accompanied by a Chinese guy who looked very quiet and lost. As there were few Asian faces in the dining hall, their presence was very noticeable. When Ernest and Nicole introduced us to each other, I knew that they were also in their list of Asian friends. Jui-Chu was doing her studies in arts while her friend, who understood very little French, was an expatriate doctor.

Jui-Chu was definitely a giving person. She would not hesitate to share with people whatever she had. Many people appreciated her kindness by always giving her a helping hand when she was in need. She would then treat them a meal in return.

She offered me a room in her apartment from the end of 1997 to the middle of 1998 when I was looking for the accommodation after I had decided at the last minute to stay longer in France for my studies. She had just given birth to a girl named Sarah. But she lost contact with the baby's father. So I stayed with the single mother and the daughter during a few months.

When Sarah was a toddler, her chubby boyish face was as round as a potato. This time when I saw her again, she had become a pretty teenage girl. And she was almost as tall as I! She did not remember me as I had left Besançon when she was merely five. But before my visit, Jui-Chu had shown her a picture where I was living with them in the other apartment and told her that she was the one who had passed her chicken-pox to me.

When I looked at myself in that picture, I realized that my face was also as round as a potato...

Although I had not kept in touch with Jui-Chu for years, she was very glad to receive me anytime. And her hospitality had not reduced one percent. She invited me for meals and to stay overnight with them whenever I came to Besançon. She was willing to leave her spare keys to me so that I could drop freely, even when nobody was at home. I was very grateful.

Sarah loved animals. Her own bedroom was like a zoo, with pictures, cards and toys of animals. She would like to become a veterinarian when she grew up. She had convinced her mother to keep two other companions in their apartment. One was the cat "Crevette", which meant prawn in French, because of its nose,

while the other one was the rabbit "Blanco", which was a brand of white correction liquid.

Feeding, cleaning and playing with the pets occupied a part of Sarah's daily life which was also shared by her school classes and music lessons.

With the savings from her previous job, Jui-Chu had bought a piano and a violin for Sarah and sent her to the Conservatoire of Besançon. That afternoon, Sarah had invited her best friend Matilde to practise together in her room. We were given a live concert. Not mastering any musical instrument, Jui-Chu and I were content to be the audience and take pictures of our small musicians.

"These recent years, French people are getting more hostile towards the foreigners because of the deteriorating economy. When everything is fine, my French neighbours greet us with a smilling face. But if a single tiny thing goes wrong, they will point at us with a fierce look and call us 'You, the foreigners'. Once, Sarah played the violin at around half past eight in the morning. The neighbour downstairs came to our door and complained. Since then, we had to pay extra attention with the practice hours."

In France, the education system allows children to breathe and encourage them to think freely, unlike in Asia. And it costs less. If not for the sake of her daughter, Jui-Chu would have already returned to Taiwan for good.

Looking at the two close friends, physically so different yet playing in perfect harmony, I was certain that the word "foreigner" would never exist in their dictionaries.