We were all quite puzzled as to why we were taken to see a sewage plant. It was an hour and a half away. It was also state of the art apparently, though I don't know much about sewage plants to begin with, so I didn't have much with which to compare it. This first stop was confusing, but alright. We signed a banner in the entryway that said something like, "We participated in making the 2008 Olympics in Beijing great." It was cool to see all of our names up there, and we signed both our English names as well as our Chinese names.
Then, we drove for another two hours to a country village. As it turns out, it was a village that is heavily subsidized by the government, and has been completely rebuilt for the Olympic games. There were signs everywhere that labeled it as part of the "Olympics Country Tour." The facilities were very nice, but it became painfully clear that it had been built almost solely for our benefit. It began to feel like we were at Disney, traveling through a world almost like ours, but completely artificial. We went at first to a beautiful temple, that seemed like it'd been around for quite some time. We found out that parts of it were 500 years old, but most of it had been reconstructed over the past two years. It was stunning, and there are plenty of pictures of it. We then visited a nursing home, where we were given a performance by nurses and administrators. The song they sang was lovely, and then they translated it. A few highlights from the song: "We are so happy here. There are no problems in our lives. The government has taken such good care of us when we got old, and we love it here. The air is so fresh, and we have the mountains behind us. Old people can be happy as they get older and older, thanks to the gracious care of the government."
I was stunned and wanted to cry. A few of the elderly people that we met seemed genuinely happy, and we had small conversations via hand gestures or a translators. The other elderly people seemed angry and sad. I suddenly felt unbelievably embarrassed, guilty, and sad. A kid from Purdue started having his picture taken with elderly people, and I wanted to shout at him and remind him that we weren't in a zoo.
I started thinking about how we got to this remote village, that definitely didn't serve as an example of what a standard village in China looks like. All of the colleges went, so we came barreling into the village with our eight coach buses and police escort, forcing locals off the roads. We passed other villages on our way, and people stood on the sides of the road, staring at us. I realized at the nursing home how much I hated what we were doing. A wash of conflicting emotions fell over me, as I thought about what these people's lives must really be like when we aren't around. Then I felt thankful for my own place in the world. Then I thought that it might be good that the government is stepping up to improve at least someone's life. Then I felt angry with the Purdue kid and everything he seemed to be conveying about Americans. I wanted these locals to know that I understood them, but the truth was that I didn't. I don't. I probably never will.
We saw a calligraphy school in the village, and it was fascinating. We saw a tai chi presentation in the courtyard, and I was starting to feel better when several students forced themselves into pictures with the tai chi presenters. They were very sweet and good-natured about the photographs, but it felt wrong. The next thing we saw topped it off.
We went inside of a villager's home. A group of over 300 students came wandering through this woman's home. We were informed that the homes cost the villagers very little, as the government pays for the rest. I felt awkward being there anyway, but when people started using the woman's bathroom as though we were in a museum or zoo, I had to leave. I went out into the courtyard and saw the woman whose home it was. Nobody had spoken to her. I walked up to her and thanked her for allowing us into her home. She nodded and asked me if I was a college student, and I told her I was. She then asked if I was American, and I said yes. She said that she thought so, because Americans have more money than the Chinese. I blushed a bit and told her she had a beautiful home, and I asked her if she liked living here. She paused for a moment and thought, and then smiled again and said, "Of course, of course. The government has been kind." It was difficult to communicate with her because of the language barrier, but I could tell that there was more stopping her from telling me what she actually thought. She seemed sad and went largely unnoticed by the foreigners that had overtaken her home. I was angry and wanted to cry.
On our way back to the city for dinner, I waved at the villagers who'd had to pull over on the road. They waved back, and I felt a tremendous loneliness and discontent. I was tired of traveling, I was tired of seeing an artificial world, and I was tired of being told that life was "good beyond comparison" because of the government.
And now, I need to go and get ready for another day of sightseeing. We'll be seeing the Great Wall today, as well as the Ming Tombs. I'll write about this tonight or tomorrow.
This experience has been great and eye-opening, and I'm not upset that I'm here. I'm glad that I'm here to see what I'm seeing, it's just difficult to swallow when you know it to not be true.
1 comment:
I assumed the propaganda would be pervasive, but I'm surprised they weren't a bit more artful about it. Then again, they probably don't get much practice being tactful to their own people.
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