Vocabulary of Chinese Origin in the Language of Russian Residents of Harbin in the First Half of the 20th Century

The study of active Chinese vocabulary in the linguistic culture of Russian-speaking Harbin residents allows us to identify approximately 100 words. They make up groups of toponyms (oikonyms, hydronyms, urbanonyms, horonyms) [29], “culinaryisms”, “everydayisms”, social vocabulary, and religious vocabulary, which reflect the main areas of Russian-Chinese interethnic contacts and those realities of life that did not have a Russian name, representing the gaps. Supplementary Materials Map of Harbin (1930s). From the moment the first rail was laid on the Chinese Eastern Railway line, the life of an ordinary Russian person took place in close proximity to Chinese reality. The Russians did not come to empty lands in Northern Manchuria, and did not become pioneering topographers. Many mountains and passes, rivers and lakes, marshy plains already had their names given by the local population, mainly Tungus-Manchu. However, the active penetration of Han migrants as a result of the powerful “Breakthrough to Guangdong” [30] into the North-Eastern lands, the voluntary Sinicization of the population [31] led to the active development of these spaces by the Chinese animal hunters, ginseng farmers, and peasants, respectively—their naming. The first to record this were Russian researchers, naturalists, ethnographers, and topographers who went to Manchuria on behalf of the Russian government, in the texts of N.A. Baykov, P.V. Shkurkin (since 1903), there are Chinese oikonyms denoting mountain passes and ridges (Chang Bai Shan, Laoling), hydronyms (Suifunhe, Hailinghe, Lalinghe), oikonyms (Han Daohezi, Hailing, Erdandazi, Ashihe), etc. [32]. In addition, it was N.A. Baikov introduced into the Russian language the semi-mythological Chinese concept “Shuhai”—Forest Sea—as a naturalistic designation for the taiga [33]. These words, which primarily perform a nominative function, indicate the organic assimilation by the Russian consciousness of geographical concepts of Chinese origin. It is known that the construction of Harbin and the villages and towns adjacent to the road line was carried out according to the principle of regular development, an example of which was the plan of St. Petersburg. Therefore, the central streets of the city had unified Russian names [34,35,36,37]. However, next to the Russian part of the city, a purely Chinese district appeared, under the jurisdiction of the Chinese administration, the Fujiadian (傅家店) district [38]. This urbanonym in the minds of Russian residents had a semantic connotation of taboo: the area was known not only for the traditional Chinese theater [39], but also for its brothels and opium smokehouses (tayangwa-nami 大烟馆). Despite the fact that Russian inhabitants tried to avoid this area, in the vocabulary of the especially “enlightened” and sophisticated, the purely Chinese names for the most “hot spots”—San-die-ge (三道街) remained firmly fixed, a street with drug dens and the sixteenth street (十六道街)—where the “fun houses” were located, including Russian ones (noted from N.N. Nikolaeva). Later, in the 1930s, under Manchukuo (满洲国), the Chinese name of another region, Pingfang (平房), acquired a significant meaning in the minds of Russian Harbin residents. Here, on the territory of a former Chinese village, the Japanese occupiers set up a laboratory for conducting experiments with bacteriological and chemical weapons, the so-called Unit 731. The most common in the language of Russian Harbin residents is the lexical group of Chinese words, denoting the so-called “culinaryisms” and “everydayisms”. Despite the passing of years, these words evoke warm memories of former emigrants. Chinese north-eastern cuisine has historically developed at the intersection of various culinary traditions—actually Han, absorbing the characteristics of different regions, Manchu, Korean, and Mongolian. It was also necessary to remember that Harbin was built on the site of a cheap hanshin (汗酒) factory, or rather, several wineries. Of course, the daily diet of Chinese workers and peasants did not consist of exotic dishes—a cup of shumiza (秫米子) made from kaoliang (高粱) and, at best, tofu sauce (豆腐). As the Russians, who themselves ate meat only on holidays, recall, the poor Chinese could very rarely afford it: “Such a poor fellow rides on his old bicycle, holds the steering wheel with one hand, and in the other hand he holds a kuoi-tzu (筷子) with 2 liang (两) of meat. Do you know how much this is? About two hundred grams! And there are 10 mouths waiting for him at home! So he will cut these 2 liang (两) thinly and fry them with bai cai (白菜), and there is only a smell!” (Noted from N.N. Laletina). Despite the fact that Russian citizens were very conservative in their gastronomic preferences, and the restaurant industry was aimed at European standards (Gamsa, 2011), a poor life contributed to an interest in simple and affordable Chinese food (“chifang” (吃饭)), which can be tasted right on the street, in city taverns. The lexical range of “culinaryisms” familiar to Harbin residents reproduces a simple menu of similar meals: “fentyouza” (粉条丝), “bai cai” (白菜), “mantou” (馒头), “baozi” (包子), fried “tu-yaza” (豆芽), “taping-zi” (大饼子), seasoned with “ta-dian” (大酱)—and flavored with sips of “han-na” (汗酒), warmed in “tahushka” (大壶). The culture of seasonal vegetables brought by the Han Chinese to the Northeast was also reflected in the vocabulary of Russian inhabitants—“bai cai” (白菜) (Chinese cabbage), “bo cai” (菠菜) (spinach), “chin cai” (芹菜) (celery). Of course, the language situation analyzed in this case may have other interpretations, since there may be different variants of transcription of such “Sinicisms” as, for example, “fentyouza” (the source could be “fentiaozi” (粉条子), not “fentiaosi (粉条丝)). The authors admit that the interpretation of this word may be different, since we are dealing with the living element of speech, in which phonetics is subject to the influence of situational factors of a linguistic or extralinguistic nature. Born in Harbin and spent their childhood there, the “Russian Chinese” fondly remember the peddlers of “tang-hula” (糖葫芦) and the “mooncakes”—“yue-bin” (月饼) with fried bean oil, which they consider to be tastier than everything they could afford years later when living prosperously already. One of the authors of this article discovered the art of hand-making these mooncakes in Harbin in 1992. Living today in different countries—Australia, Latvia, Russia, Kazakhstan—former Harbin residents deftly master the skills of preparing everyday Chinese cuisine. At gatherings of local Harbin residents (老乡), these culinary skills became a symbol of appreciation for their Chinese past and Chinese friends (see Table 1). Observing the structure of the “Chinese world” in Harbin, ordinary Russian residents assimilated those linguistic realities that corresponded to their basic mental attitudes about the social structure of life. Today’s reproduction of them in memoirs and conversations testifies to the close ethnosocial contacts between Russians and Chinese. A common name for the Chinese (peddlers, shopkeepers, “kulies” (苦力), ready for any low-paid work, greengrocers, etc.) was the ethnofolism “hodya” (among Russians, sounding with familiar intonations like “hodka”). At the same time, the Russians were well aware that the Chinese called them “maozi”, “laomaozi” (老毛子) [42] —this is evidenced not only by the oral stories of Harbin residents, but also by literary and ethnographic texts [8]. It is characteristic that the Russians defined the inhabitants of the taiga expanses, gold miners, fur trappers and ginseng growers with the concept of “manza”. The functioning of “Sinicisms” denoting social concepts reflects little-studied aspects of Chinese reality—in particular, the presence among the Chinese themselves of rich merchants, popularly called contemptuously “ta-tuza»” (“ta-tuzi”) (大肚子)—pot-bellied, fat-bellied ones. However, the flour from the San Ho-shin mill (“Sankhoshinovsky flour”) is still remembered by former Harbin residents—Russian mothers used it to prepare the most delicious Siberian dumplings for the holidays, and then Chinese “tiaozi” (jiaozi 饺子). A special part of life in Harbin was the so-called “yorgi” (游丐)—Chinese beggars living in the areas around numerous Orthodox churches in huge numbers. Just as the practical and enterprising Chinese learned to comply with Russian festive culture, making the necessary attributes for each religious holiday, so they felt Russian compassion and pity towards the orphaned and wretched. Attention to “yorgi” and the fact that this word had been stored in language opens up new faces in ethnocultural contacts between Russians and Chinese. Hong-huzi (红胡子) is another “Sinicism”, borrowed word, that captured the features of the ethnosocial reality of Harbin and the Chinese Eastern Railway line. All Harbin residents remember about the hong-huzi—red-bearded robbers: both Russians and Chinese, and in general, residents of the North-East. In the summer, gangs of these bandits dissolved in the impassable Manchurian taiga, and in the winter they settled in “winter quarters” in Chinese neighborhoods... With the word “huzi” (胡子), elderly Chinese women still scold their naughty grandchildren today. In the first half of the 20th century, this word caused horror among the civilian population—that is how the “redbeards” treated them, regardless of ethnicity and social affiliation! [43] (see Table 2). The ethnocultural tolerance of the residents of Harbin towards representatives of foreign cultures extended not only to a careful and respectful attitude towards “foreign gods” but also to an interest in knowledge and the creative strengthening of foreign temples. Thus, for the construction of Kun-miao (Confucian Temple) (孔廟庙) and Tzu-ly-si (极乐寺) (Taoist Temple), representatives of the Russian community donated their capital [44]. Russian ethnographers working in the society for the Study of the Manchurian Region published popular science articles in “Rubezh” and “Ray of Asia” in order to educate the Russian population and ethno-religious education. And the Chinese, in turn, fully respected the Russian lamatai—St. Nicholas Church and, as it is known, for many years defended the miraculous image of St. Nicholas the Pleasant [45] (see Table 3).