U of A prof made China his passion. Paula Simons

Because it was late, a junior Chinese diplomat, who had once travelled to Canada and had eaten in the revolving restaurant atop the Château Lacombe in Edmonton, was pressed into service as the interpreter.

“The people of Canada,” we began, “wish to give the people of China a gift.”

“How very kind and thoughtful,” came the reply.

“Canada wishes to present China with four beaver,” we continued, our eyes fixed firmly on the panda still munching bamboo over the official’s head.

There was a pause while our words were translated into Chinese.

Suddenly, the Mandarin melody was broken by the word “beaver.”

“What,” asked the acting interpreter, “are beaver?”

“You know,” we said, “they have large front teeth …” “Oh, an elephant.” “No, no,” we protested. “They have large tails and swim under water.” “A whale.” We were at an impasse, the sort on which the very history of the world turns.

We were stuck for the term in Chinese for beaver.

What is more, we had obviously led our Chinese hosts to expect a gift considerably larger than the one we were actually o ering.

We retreated, making broad reference to the lovely panda picture on the wall and how much the Canadian people love panda.

Careful to hit the right note, we did not go so far as to state that Dr. Bethune, had he survived, would have wanted the Canadian people to have a pair of panda.