Sometimes, hanging out after class, my students would forget me and chat back and forth in Mandarin. I’d listen intently, trying to pick out familiar words.
Every few minutes someone would remember me, giggle and ask, “Do you know what we’re talking about?” I never did. Yet I didn’t feel left out – the cadence and tones of their speech fascinated me. It was so quick. I’d guess at the subject of their jokes from their expressions, tones, pitches of laughter. Observing a group’s dynamics without understanding the language afforded unique insights – who was funniest, who laughed most, who sat back and watched everyone else. Occasionally I’d ask the meaning of recurring words: “Zao shen me yisi (What does ‘zao’ mean)?” It was my way of proving I wasn’t a complete idiot, that I could pick out key words.
I once caught them by surprise. They kept repeating one word over and over, laughing: mai ke. So I asked: “Mai ke shen me yisi?”
They fell quiet, blushing. No one offered the answer.
I was intrigued. “Mai ke shen me yisi?”
A few twittered; others giggled.
“Come on, tell me,” I insisted.
Finally Susan confessed: “It is your name.”
Aha: Mike = mai ke. The sneaks! Wanting to talk about me but knowing I’d recognize my Chinese name, they’d switched to a code name for me. And I’d managed to catch them at it.
I never heard mai ke after that. No doubt they moved to some other term (“curly hair” or “big nose”) that I failed to pick up.
