Blog 10-3

Travelogue 10-3

Dateline: Beijing, China; March 19, 2010—Moldova is a communist country, but only because their brief fling with capitalism did not markedly improve the lives of the people. How could it? The same people were in power, only wearing a different mask. But China is different; it is all the way communist while at the same time becoming quite adept at capitalism. And bubbling away in this incongruous stew is an ample helping of graft and greed. We have been the victims of this here a few times.
Now, a person would think that in such a totalitarian country, it would be hard to get away with any underhanded shenanigans. I remember back in the 50’s we had three yearbooks in our home, setting forth the biggest events in the previous year. I used to love perusing those volumes, looking at the pictures of unknown people and reading of places I could only dream of seeing some day. Two pictures stand out in my mind. One is of an open-air tribunal, a circle of villagers around a table behind which sits an arrogant young man in uniform apparently lecturing the hapless and totally dejected “criminal” standing in the heat of everyone’s critical gaze. His crime as noted in the yearbook? Exploiting peasants on his 2/5’s of an acre of land. The next picture is of his punishment. Kneeling in the dirt, his arms tied tightly behind him, his head hung in hopelessness, he awaits the bullet from the rifle of the soldier standing behind him, aiming in the middle of his back. I have often thought of that poor man so long ago. And I wonder now how exploitation is any better than what we have been exposed to; extortion and harassment.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy it here for the most part. So far I have gone through a detailed visa process, registered in two police precincts, been interrogated by a Religions Friendship Committee representative, and received my first official warning by another police precinct. The first registration was the first day and I stood behind the glass while a scowling policewomen scrutinized my passport and filled out the requisite form. The second registration went better. The daughter of the woman from whom we were renting a guesthouse for the school, accompanied us to the station. This is quite a gal.
Having spent seven years in Canada going to university, she speaks flawless English, and I mean flawless; she doesn’t even have the Canadianese “ay” after most sentences. As a matter of fact, she almost sounds like she is using Val-speak, a California dialect. She is a friend of the police chief and while the policewomen were trying to figure out how in the world to register an American, our Val-speaker took us into the police chief’s office and we spent an hour talking and drinking tea. He showed us the fine art of making a good cup of tea and that needs to be the subject of another whole blog.
Now, the Religions Friendship Committee is an interesting organization. Note that “Religious” is not an adjective in this case. I doubt the representative was a “believer” nor did he have a taste for those who were. You might paraphrase their organization as the “We Will be Friendly if Your Religion is Kept to Yourself Committee.” He asked me a bunch of questions but made sure I understood they were not friendly to foreigners bringing religion into their country. They aren’t big on imports over here; they major in exports, as you can readily ascertain by shopping any Walmart, and I was made to understand that if I did not abide by the rules, I might well be their next export. Trying to pin me down as to a religious motive, I seized upon a golden opportunity they had unwittingly prepared for me. The Chinese are one of the most nicotine-addicted people I have met. The room in which we were being interrogated was filled with their acrid smoke and a spent butt lay crushed on the floor by my chair. Retrieving it and holding it up for the man to see, I told him, “It doesn’t matter if a man is a Christian, a Hindu or an atheist, this is going to hurt him. I am here to try to keep that from happening.” He and the two policemen with him seemed mildly bored but I am still here. But in truth, that is indeed one of the reason I am here; to help improve the health of the people by teaching this wonderful group of students the basic principles of health.
Things were going well for a while at the school. We, and when I say “we” I mean myself and a Malaysian teacher named Wai Fong whom I have known for years, were all registered and teaching away. Then the water stopped. That was a major occurrence as we had 47 students in three rooms sharing six commodes. It doesn’t take long for the porcelain throne and its environs to become uninhabitable under such circumstances. Seems the village chief has a quarrel with the owner of the guesthouse and was harassing “her.” Fortunate for her she doesn’t live there so we were the only ones being harassed. The second day it was becoming untenable so I violated a rule. Before class I explained to the students the power of prayer and God’s constant care for His children. I asked them if they would like to have a short season of prayer and they were all very much in the affirmative. We divided up in the cramped classroom in groups of two to four and prayed for God to intervene. As we finished, one of the staff leaned over to the sink in the classroom and turned on the faucet. Water gushed forth; and tears fell from many eyes. We saw it as an answer to prayer and a miracle. Water again.
China is cold, especially up in the Beijing area. Beijing has had four big snows this winter and three of them have come since I have been here. The third was wet and heavy and made everything even more cold than it normally is. That is when the village chief, again out of spite for the landlady, but off our power. We heat our rooms with electricity, light our rooms, power our computers and projector with electricity. One day went by, two days went by, the third day came. It was really getting cold and it began that way so it was getting downright frigid. And through it all the students maintained an amazingly cheerful and positive attitude. These are truly remarkable people.
Mark and Paul, the two main leaders of the school, purchased a generator the second day but we could see this wouldn’t be enough to get us through the remainder of the winter and whatever spring would throw our way. But on the third day the landlady told us she couldn’t deal with the situation and released us from our contract. As it turned out, on Sunday Mark and Paul had taken me to another site where they hoped to begin a second, larger school in the summer. So, on the nicest day of my visit thus far, with the sun shinning bright and warm, we packed up and moved the whole school to the other site. What a difference.
In the first school the students slept in bunk beds, 10 to 18 in a room. No closets, no chest of drawers, no privacy, and minimal heat. The new school was a dream. Three person rooms with private bath, a spacious classroom with desks and a raised platform, speakers for the PA system, heat; basically, all the comforts a teacher would expect and desire. The kitchen, whereas resembling a darkened cave, still turned out the most tasty meals. I like all food but if I had to choose a favorite kind of restaurant to frequent, it would have to be Chinese. And here I have it every meal, with no MSG, very low or no salt, no animal products, no oil. Our cook is a master of her craft. It seems as if the less some people have, the more that can do with their little. It is of necessity that make their lives bright because life doesn’t just hand happiness to you on a silver platter. The through the drought, the power outage, the move, the students never wavered. It is a privilege to teach such men and women. But then the next change came. More next time
God bless,
Don