Free Wish You Happy Forever by Jenny Bowen

We say bad things always have a good side. This is a turning point. China wants to turn the page, but gradually. At the same time, they need help from outside. Of course, you have to have a friend or you can do nothing. Still, it is sensitive. When I take you on tour of orphanages, I must not say anything wrong. Not say too much straightforward with officials. Not too much detail because I don’t want to give them any chance to say no.”
    As long as they don’t say no . . .
    This I understood.
    And I was smitten. What good fortune to find this woman, this ZZ! I adored and trusted her already. She would become my best friend, my big sister. My better half in China.
    With ZZ beside me, I felt new confidence when we arrived at Maya’s orphanage the next day.
    THE RECEPTION WAS anything but warm.
    I’d been surprised when ZZ told me that Guangzhou was on the approved list of sites. I hadn’t even considered trying to launch Half the Sky there. Sure, the children were in dire need of help; Maya was proof positive. But from the little I’d been able to learn, Guangzhou seemed too big, too secretive, and too troubled. Despite Norman’s glowing report on that first telephone call—“best orphanage in China”—I’d learned from media reports and rumors that weak babies had a slim chance of surviving, let alone thriving, in that orphanage.
    One thing was certain—this little dream of mine had to succeed and quickly. We had to begin with conditions where success was at least imaginable. That eliminated Guangzhou. But I was in no position to argue.
    â€œI’m so pleased to meet you,” I said to the closed face of Guangzhou Director Zheng, a compact fellow whose pocket protector held a single pen. Despite his controlled demeanor, a forelock of hair refused to stay in place and his shirt kept coming untucked. I concentrated on good thoughts: I was really trying to like him. “I was here two years ago to adopt my daughter.”
    He grunted and frowned even further if that was possible. “No pictures,” he said.
    He glanced down at the big bag of toy musical instruments we’d purchased the day before—“the Chinese way,” according to ZZ.
    â€œAnd you can’t bring those toys inside,” he added.
    He led us into what appeared to be a spanking-new showroom. The walls were lined with photo blow-ups of the children with various celebrity officials and assorted highlights of orphanage life.
    One display featured three medals that had been won by older children competing in the Paralympics. “It would be great if the kids could hang those medals in their rooms,” I said. Then wished I hadn’t. Director Zheng appeared to be considering whether he should have me arrested.
    Instead, he whisked us through a lightning-quick tour of one floor of one building in the massive complex. It was spartan but clean, and the many dozens of children looked physically healthy. That was all the opinion there was time for. Then we were outside. He couldn’t get rid of us fast enough.
    â€œSo Director Zheng,” I said as he ushered us out, “might you be interested in hosting some programs that are designed to provide nurturing care for orphaned children?”
    I think he may have physically shuddered, insulted that we thought perhaps his institution might be improved upon.
    â€œThere are procedures that must be followed,” Director Zheng said.
    And so we said our thanks and goodbyes.
    SOUTH OF GUANGZHOU , near Hong Kong, Shenzhen was our final destination. It was, in those days, a long drive from Guangzhou through miles of lychee and banana groves dotted with new high-rise apartment buildings and construction cranes.
    ZZ told me that this was the richest farmland in the nation. Soon it will be gone , I thought, just as the apricot orchards of my childhood had become Silicon Valley. Make way for New China.
    We stopped at the