Foreign Pumpkin

Outsiders

Since I was a kid, I looked down on outsiders too. In the corner of our village, there was a family that had moved from Anhui. Villagers spoke of them with that natural local superiority and disdain for outsiders. When this “outsider” family interacted with villagers, they were polite, cautious, and humble. Over twenty years later, this summer when talking with my parents in our Changsha hometown, this “Anhui family” is still referred to as “outsiders” by the villagers.

I could have always been a local in Changsha. Ten-plus years ago, scrawny, timid, and inexperienced as I was, I wanted to see the world outside. Since then, I’ve been drifting. Looking back, I’m convinced this was God’s guidance—leaving Changsha was my “leave your country, your people, and your father’s household.”

Seven years in Hangzhou, eight years in Shanghai—as an outsider, I missed my hometown and returned to Changsha each year to reunite with family. I once considered moving my family back for good, but in recent years I feel there’s no going back. I’ve told my wife and kids that our family seems destined to keep “drifting,” as we always have, and likely will. I understand what the Bible means by “foreigners and strangers on earth,” and I agree. A house in Shanghai, a Shanghai-licensed car, even a Shanghai household registration can’t shed that “outsider” label. But by “outsider,” I mean my status in this world. I’m just passing through. Mortality will end this journey, and I will return to my eternal home, to eternal life in Jesus Christ.

In the future, we’ll likely keep moving every few years, shifting our tent. But wherever I am, I’m an outsider, and I acknowledge this once shameful label.

Pumpkin

As a child, because I was short and had a big head—and my name includes a “Nan”—my classmates and friends called me “Pumpkin Brother” (in Changsha dialect, it means the smallest pumpkin). This nickname, which I resented, added to my insecurity. Growing up, I was often self-conscious about my height (short), appearance (light eyebrows, a face full of moles, crooked teeth), and personality (introverted). It wasn’t until after I graduated from college that I began to slowly accept myself. After coming to know Christ, I have pretty much fully accepted myself.

In late autumn 2021 in Shanghai, I recalled “Pumpkin”—the nickname that hurt me thirty years ago. Pumpkins in the rural Changsha countryside are common and often undervalued as pig feed when overabundant. I’m considering doing or writing something under the name “Foreign Pumpkin.” This name hints at a bit of self-deprecation and reconciliation with myself. That’s true. I think my faith in Christ enables such self-acceptance.

Foreign Pumpkin.