Extra: Moving into My Dorm Room at Zhi Da

When I first moved here I was blessed with the opportunity to live with another single worker from the states.  She was a great roommate and did a lot to show me the ropes of life over seas… but our apartment was on the 5^th floor.  As winter came I had no desire to go up and down all those stairs just to step out into the cold dark snowy world around me.  I realized all of this was affecting my language learning.  If I didn’t go out, I didn’t interact with students, If I didn’t interact I didn’t practice what I had learned in class.  If I didn’t practice I didn’t improve.

  At the same time an opportunity opened to live in the student’s dorm.  It sounded perfect.  A second floor dorm room all to myself.  I would be neighbors with all the regular students, but I could have a space to myself.  This is an unusual thing in a local dorm.  Most local students are jammed 8 into a room.  Dorm walls are lined with four sets of bunk beds and students learn to live with no personal space.  My mind raced ahead with ideas of how I could transform the little shoe box sized room into a cozy space. 

I packed up all my stuff, which since I had only lived in country a few months, still basically fit in the suitcases I had come with.  I think I had one extra bag with a new comforter and pillows.  My classmate and our local tutor were kind enough to help me carry the stuff across campus.  We got to the dorm building and the lady and the front desk walked us down to the room that was available. 

“No one has used this room in a while” she said as she opened the door and handed me the keys to my new space “It might need a bit of cleaning”

That was the understatement of the year.  The room was a mess.  It looked like it had become of the catch all space for any broken beds, desks, chairs  or bookshelves in the building.  Furniture was packed in making it hard to really get a glimpse of the space. 

“We can move out what you don’t need” the woman said in response to my slightly appalled face.  I just stood there taking in the cold hard concrete floors, the dark coal dust covered walls,  that left your hand prints if you so much as brushed against the wall.  The ripped curtains that separated my room from a clear shot into guys dorm.  We hadn’t even looked into the washroom yet, but the strong smells coming from our left let us know it was in need of work too.  I was ready to make an about-face and head back to the comfy, homey shared apartment.  I could handle a few stairs every day, they had to be better than this shabby hole. 

Just as I was reaching for the handle of my bag, I heard my tutor exclaim “Karen this is great.  We will have you settled by this evening”.  He was already sorting through the abandoned furniture and testing to see which bed was in the best shape. 

His cheerful tone did a lot to sooth my bad attitude.  All other students in the country lived in rooms just like this… who was I to assume I was above such humble conditions.  Those dear friends, who had only been asked to carry a few bags across campus, stayed with me all day moving heavy desks, scrubbing strained surfaces, bring carpets from their own homes, and hanging something better over the window so my room didn’t become a pep show.  They worked selflessly for many hours.  In the end the move was a great thing.    I got to know the students around me, worked on language.  Father was so good to me, giving me grace to make this move, to adopt my tutors good attitude and let Father work out the situation as He wanted.