RE: China's Baby Care Superstitions - Very interesting.

[Guest guest]

Nice post.  Different traditions.  In America, one

would wind up in trouble for lowering the child’s self-esteem calling him

names like dog fart or stinky little pig. 

  But, I think that in a lot of other

cultures, self esteem comes later, after one has accomplished something. 

  Cold winds entering through the feet is

a possible diagnosis for Traditional that actually works.  “Cold”

and “wind” are things in a system of diagnosis that does not fit

our western ways.  But within the parameters of the Chinese Traditional

Medicine system such diagnoses work to come up with a treatment plan of foods,

supplementary herbs, etc. to cure “illnesses” or imbalances of

people.  Like the sore feet and knees that Louis Lim actually experienced.  Not

all superstitions are superstitions. 

 

Ed

 

 

 

 

 

On Behalf Of Jagannath Chatterjee

Sunday, December 04, 2005

9:32 AM

To:

alternative_medicine_forum ; health_and_healing ;

medicalconspiracies (AT) googl (DOT) com; medicalconspiracies ;

connect_ticket

China's Baby

Care Superstitions - Very interesting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nursing China's

superstitions

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By Louisa Lim

BBC, Beijing

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

New mums should stay indoors, eat

purple porridge and avoid drinking iced water. Or should they? Scratch below

the surface in modern China

and you will find that old superstitions remain very much in force, as Louisa

Lim has found out since having a baby.

 

 

I had nine months to prepare, but when I was presented with a tiny

squalling bundle of scrawny arms and legs, it was still a shock.

 

My waters had broken a month before my due date. I hadn't even gone on

maternity leave.

 

I was expecting to be at work, filing reports from our hot little

studio.

 

Instead I found myself in labour, yelling like a banshee while fending

off calls from the BBC news desk in London.

 

 

After several excruciating hours, our baby finally arrived. He was

small but perfect in every way.

 

Traditionally the arrival of a grandson who will carry on the family

name is a momentous event in any Chinese clan. And so it was with my in-laws.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Chinese husband always called

him the 'stinky little pig'

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They adored the baby and spent hours cooing as he gurned and kicked.

 

As time went on, however, I noticed a strange thing.

 

As I am half-English, we had given our son both English and Chinese

names: Daniel and Feng Yue, which means Moon.

 

But no one seemed to be using his given names.

 

Instead, my Chinese husband always called him the " stinky little

pig " .

 

And my father-in-law would stare tenderly at the baby, but mutter

things like " dog fart " .

 

Perplexed, I asked some Chinese friends what was going on.

 

" They're trying to fool the evil spirits, " I was told.

" They don't want the evil spirits to kidnap Feng Yue, so they are

pretending he's just a stinky little pig or a dog fart. "

 

Month in pyjamas

 

I had been expecting a tiny imperious master who would rule my life

with his demands.

 

Actually we were blessed with a peaceful little being who spent his

first few weeks of life fast asleep.

 

 

 

But my days were ruled by another addition to the household: my

maternity nurse, Dong Ayi.

 

She had been recommended by a Chinese friend, who had got through two

other nurses during her first two days at home.

 

If Dong Ayi had managed to co-exist with her, I figured, she would be

able to cope with me. But I had not reckoned on the cultural differences.

 

Dong Ayi was already waiting for us when we got home.

 

A small, compact woman, the first thing she did when we arrived was

change into her pyjamas.

 

That is because in China,

new mothers are not expected to leave their beds for a month after giving

birth.

 

Both I and Dong Ayi were expected to spend the entire month

pyjama-clad.

 

Prisoner to tradition

 

I had already warned Dong Ayi that I would not be " sitting the

month " as they say in Chinese. But I soon discovered that besides not

going outside, a host of other activities were also forbidden.

 

These included those most ordinary of acts: taking a shower, washing

your hair, drinking cold water, opening the window, watching television and

even reading a book.

 

All are considered unhealthy after childbirth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When she saw me walking around

barefoot, she was horrified

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Most new mothers are too worried about the consequences to transgress.

 

For my part, I refused to be a prisoner to tradition and blithely

ignored these taboos. And Dong Ayi did not exactly complain when I took a

shower or opened the window or drank iced water.

 

She would just fix me with a baleful glare... a silent warning of the

error of my ways.

 

In one area, however, she refused to compromise.

 

When she saw me walking around barefoot, she was horrified.

 

She kept warning of cold winds, which would enter my body through the

soles of my feet, causing untold health problems.

 

At first I laughed off her concerns. Then as her laser stare followed

my feet around the house, I started to feel aches in my heels and knees.

 

Finally she could bear it no longer and bought me a pair of soft black

slippers.

 

Sensing defeat, I realised it would be easier just to wear them all the

time, and miraculously the pains vanished.

 

Secret bananas

 

Food was another small battleground over which we skirmished.

 

The Chinese firmly believe that certain foods are beneficial after

childbirth, particularly purple rice porridge with dates, pig trotter soup and

black chicken broth.

 

On one memorable occasion, my in-laws even produced deep-fried pork-fat

soup, which was surprisingly good.

 

The problem was that Dong Ayi firmly opposed my favourite foods: namely

coffee, chocolate and bananas.

 

" Not for breastfeeding mothers, " she said, banning them from

my diet, " they're bad for Daniel's health. "

 

I took the route of least resistance and meekly agreed, though I would

visit friends' houses for clandestine coffee and secret bananas.

 

Found out

 

One day all this came to an end.

 

She was changing the baby's nappy and sniffing the air distractedly.

 

" This smells all wrong. He's got diarrhoea, " she said.

" You've been eating bananas, haven't you? "

 

I could only hang my head in shame and promise to stop.

 

Six months have now passed.

 

Thanks to my soup-filled diet, our stinky little pig is as chubby and

bouncing as they come.

 

I am back at work, filing reports from the BBC's hot little studio. And

Daniel is safe at home, still being looked after by Dong Ayi... still in her

pyjamas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We have grasped

the mystery of the atom and rejected the Sermon on the Mount. Ours is a world

of nuclear giants and ethical infants. We know more about war than we know

about peace, more about killing that we know about living.

 

 

-- General Omar

Bradley

 

 

 

 

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