Wednesday, April 30, 2008

We Are Ready!


It's May Day (Labor Day; 勞動節) in China. The trains and buses are packed with people going home to see their families, people going to scenic spots like Hangzhou, and those on vacation to see important historical sites. I'm headed to Nanjing to see the former capital of China.

At a friend's house on the eve of May Day, I catch the holiday program produced by CCTV, the goverment's main TV channel. I am surprised to see Jackie Chan singing to a crowd of thousands. He can really sing, and my friend tells me that he has cut a few albums in his time. The refrain of the song is in English and it goes like this: "WE ARE READY!" And as you would expect, Chan is singing it with panache.

So, this is the flavor of China right now. This evening marks 100 days until the Olympics. Everyone is extremely proud and wants their country to show the world that not only are they ready for the Olympics, but they are ready to become a modern country, the New China.

From my perspective, living in an authoritarian country that limits the freedom of it's citizens (speech, press, assembly, mostly), I feel that China has a long way to go. But I am hopeful that the Olympics will give them a push into modernity.




I say that giving China the opportunity to host the Olympics is a good thing, despite this country's human rights record. For one thing, China people can actually read my blog as of a few weeks ago!

As I walk down Shiziqiao (獅子橋), one of the main drags of Nanjing, with a friend, I look at the throngs of people, mostly kids, and I start my Jackie Chan impression, singing, "WE ARE READY!"

Get ready guys, sincerely hoping you can join the free world.

Saturday, April 26, 2008

Chinese Version of "Dialogue"

People in China know that the West is protesting their country's human rights abuses, but they feel Western people just don't get it. They feel Western people are being unreasonable.

A student of mine, a young Chinese woman, hearing the recent news (at least the Chinese version of it) asks me about Tibet. She asks me why Westerners have such a problem with Tibet. She tells me that until a few weeks ago, she had no idea that there was any problem in Tibet at all. To her, and most Chinese people, Tibet is just another province, the Tibetan people are just another minority.

I am happy to give her an "alternative view." I explain that Tibetans in the West tell of their culture being wiped out, their religion being restricted, their temples, their holy places, their books destroyed. Communism doesn't really value religion, does it?

But my friend believes that there are always two sides to every story. People in the West have their story. We in China have our story.

I don't say anything to my friend (I try not to talk about politics when I teach English), but I think to myself, "There are always two sides to every story. Does your government allow you to have access to both sides so you can make up your own mind?" The answer, of course, is no.

I'm hanging out with an American friend who likes to watch the government-run English channel on TV (CCTV). I've never seen it. My friend says she likes like channel, as it has helped her understand a lot about Chinese culture. Today, they have a program called "Dialogue."

The host of the show says we're going to talk about Tibet today, and to his right are three Tibetan scholars. Before beginning his "dialogue" with the scholars, they show a short historical summary of the plight of the Tibetan people before and after the revolution. In sum, a few wealthy Tibetans enslaved the majority of poor Tibetans, that is until Mao's men came onto the scene and made things right.

After the historical short, the host begins discussing the plight of the Tibetan peasants, emphasizing how they had been exploited. The three Tibetan scholars all confirm what we just saw in the short historical film.

I have a hunch that not only is the host on the government payroll, but our three Tibetan professors also get extra cartons of cigarettes in their mail several times a month, courtesy of party-central.

I wonder, if Chinese people saw this show, would they look at me with pride and say, "You see, China has only helped the Tibetan people!"

And then I would ask them, "Is this show the Chinese version of a dialogue?"

The Cat is Still in the Bag

The spring weather in Shanghai--makes you want to take long walks and ride your bike with no destination at all. I particularly like my neighborhood. There are the cool boutiques which I never go into, little teashops, trees lining the streets, and old buildings. It's what they call the French Concession.

I walk around the corner on Fuxing Rd. and see an old, dark-skinned Chinese man with ragged clothes and a wrinkled face (he looks like what people here would call a "waidi ren", one who is not from Shanghai). He is carrying what looks like is a heavy bag.

As he passes me, I hear a loud cry from his bag--I realize it's a cat. She sounds like she is in pain, like she wants to escape. A little shocked from hearing the sound of this prisoner-cat, I stop and I turn to look back at the man and his bag. He must see me, so he turns to look at me and stops.

He makes a gesture to his bag, and his facial expression looks like he wants to ask me a question. What is the question? Does he want to sell me his kidnapped cat? This is Shanghai, after all. Every single frigging interaction (even the "hello" on the street from the smiling young man dressed in the 400RMB cheap, dusty, stained suit) has to do with money. Well, almost every one.

I stand and we look at each other, and it feels like this is all happening in slow motion. I am looking at the pitiful look on the man's face. That sad cat cry is still ringing in my head.

The slow motion sequence ends and we both turn around to continue along our ways. It's just another day in romantic Shanghai.