|
We ambled South, back around to Tian'anmen Gate, and into the S13
subway station. Our intention was not to go back to the hostel, but
to safely pass underneath Chang'an Jie (Eternal Peace) Road. Our
passage was restricted by the vendors, the universal flea marketers
who were hawking their wares in a rainfree area. Just as on the
sidewalk, it was likewise restricted but the desire to sell, fueled
by the hope of a big payback and a new easy life of wealth. This
is the driving force that compels millions, if not billions around
the world. Going by the sellers, I thought about their competition.
As we survived that gauntlet of salespeople, we encountered a
different sort of sales strategy.
Two nicely dressed natives met us as we emerged from
the subway. “You are not from here. Where is your home?” he asked
with a smile, extending his hand.
I suspect my shorts, Hawaiian shirt, and Beatle's cap
rendered my attempt to blend in useless, as I told them, with pride,
“El Paso, Texas, USA!”
“So you are from America?” his voice unwavering. “Is
it OK if we went with you to practice our English? It is no charge.”
I'd forgotten the LP warning that young college-age
Chinese will do exactly what they were doing, and, after an
indeterminate amount of time, will expect payment for services
rendered.
She explained, “You see, China is a large country
with many different dialects. Here in the North, we speak Mandarin
that is still separate from the South or the West. Even within the
city, you can hear differences as people come far away for work. One
language most of us use is English, which is good because we will be
hosting the Olympics in 2008.”
As we walked around Tian'anmen Square (“Square of
Heavenly Peace”), we conversed extensively, beginning with
introductions: his name was “John”, her name was “Sue”.
(Undoubtedly, Anglicized for our benefit.) Walking past the massive
Five Star Red Flag flying from a guarded pole, they showed us
Tian'anmen Tower, the Monument to the People's Heroes (Renim
Yinxiong Jinian Bei), the Great Hall of the People (where the
National People's Congress meets), the Chinese National Museum(both
the Revolutionary and the History Museums are here-two museums in
one), and the Mao Zedong Memorial Hall and Mausoleum, some of which
charge for entrance.
Tian'anmen Square is a 440,000 square meter (about 3½
times the size of the National Mall in Washington DC) assemblage
point is reputed to be the single largest in the world. More
interesting to me was the specific site where the as of yet unknown,
lone Chinaman who had stopped a tank during the democracy protest of
1989. Our guides could not tell us his name, nor could they tell
what had happened to him. He might have been tortured and killed,
imprisoned for “re-education”, spirited out of the country to a
distant safe haven, or simply disappeared among the billions of
other Chinese. Regardless, his presence is still there, voicing a
desire for self-expression and freedom.
Paralleling his voice, I told Sue and John about the
National Mall, “...a focal point of assemblages like Tian'anmen
Square, where frequent demonstrations are held by the people to
express opinions about national policies. Over time, there have been
similar occurrences of arrests, death, and thuggish behavior, all
committed by the our government against people wanting a change in
national policy. The citizenry have wants that are universal.” and
we were all silent for a moment, reflecting.
I mentioned that this was part of the reason we were
visiting China, to learn that, as human beings, we all possess
yearnings which cannot be repressed. In exercising our own freedom
of movement, we will become better residents of planet Earth by
understanding other occupants and their situations. Sue and John
were glad for us, albeit acting hang-dog for themselves.
“We are not able to go far,” she began, “it cost much
money for college. And not many Chinese can afford passports.”
They were shocked when I asked them if they were able
to split expenses by sharing an apartment.
“We've heard about how common that is in the West,
but never here. It is just too difficult. We still live at home.”
I remarked that college in the USA is likewise
costly, and, as part of my job, I almost always recommend to my
students that they start their post-high school education at El Paso
Community College. I gave them the same litany that I have given to
virtually all of my students at Tierra de Parque Secondario Escuela.
“El Paso Community College is the best place to
start, because you can still live at home for the first two years
before transferring the University of Texas at El Paso if you've
taken the appropriate basics. It is cheaper to knock out your first
two years at EPCC, even better than living in a dorm on campus at
UTEP because you can save four to six hundred dollars a month,
which adds up to over twelve to fifteen thousand dollars.
That can buy a lot of college!”
“That is so much money!” John remarked, his eyes
wide. “But all of you have that chance. So many of our friends had
no choice but to accept work given to them. They had no choice, you
always get to choose. That is better than money. You can pick your
leaders, your future, anything you want.” John said with a hint of
palpable suffering.
I understood his tacit dissatisfaction, and agreed
with him that it certainly seems that way, “...but our opportunity
to make choices through voting is virtually the same as yours. The
vast majority of the possible electorate in the USA simply do not
bother to register for the civic responsibility of choosing our
leaders and laws. We have an oligarchy, and we probably see it
strongest in El Paso because the few who do make an effort
inevitably simply choose 'wrong' (usually a Democratic slate, to
whom the elected Republican leader funnels away money, influence,
and pork barrel). You see, the USA leadership is supposed to be
decided by one person, one vote, and that the government was of the
people, by the people, and for the people. That has changed over
time since so few people bother to participate in the most
fundamental societal obligation of voting.” I could see that both he
and Sue heard my words, but did not comprehend the ramification of
the political process.
 Continue... |
