Reflection on the earthquake in Sichuan Province

Understanding the impact
The news has travelled the world and it has been headline stories in China for 3 weeks, but I have found it difficult to comprehend the scale of the devastation caused by the earthquake in Sichuan Province.

The figures do convey something of its magnitude. I can tell you that by noon on Sunday the 1st of June 69,016 people were confirmed dead, 18,830 missing and 368,545 injured, and it is said that 5 million people are homeless and another 15.15 million people have been relocated.

However I have gained more understanding from stories of individual people and communities. The suffering of parents was brought home with a picture a water bottle standing, untouched, beside 2 tiny, but different, shoes on the feet of 2 young girls, their thin legs protruding from under a fallen boulder. The high toll amongst school students was reinforced by the photo of Liao Bo trapped between concrete slabs. He was one of 20 survivors out of a class of 69 students. The magnitude of the disaster was revealed when reading of Qingchuan County, with a population of 250,000 people, which has lost 95% of their housing stock. The isolation of many victims was illustrated by an elderly women caring for and feeding her husband pinned under a fallen building column. They waited 11 days for help. And the difficulty to provide aid was exposed by stories of rescuers taking hours and days to walk into the area, over damaged roads and around destroyed bridges, risking, and in some cases succumbing to, landslides.

Liao Bo, a student at Beichuan Middle School (China Daily 14 May 2008)

Media Coverage
In Hong Kong, on May the 12th, my first indication of the earthquake was watching the news in my hotel and seeing footage of Premier Wen Jiabao, within hours of the first tremor, onboard a plane overseeing rescue plans. Yet the news coverage was varied; American channels initially suggested the government was not doing enough, while Chinese channels showed good news stories of people being rescued and the authorities, soldiers and civilians giving their all to help. Over the next few days Premier Wen Jiabao’s constant appearances on television, his rousing speeches and tender words to children started to feel irritatingly like an election campaign, but he was there and actively engaged. I am not sure the American government responded so quickly or decisively to Hurricane Katrina. Equally interesting was the immediate and live news coverage giving the people of China to opportunity to follow the events closely and allowing a level of critical analysis to emerge.

In Zhangzhou
By the time I returned to Zhangzhou, 3 days later, the city had mobilised to assist the people of Sichuan. Red banners were strung across roads encouraging people to donate at collection booths set on street corners. One morning the staff from the company managing our apartment complex congregated at our main gate, lining up and dropping many hundreds of yuan into a glass-sided collection box. I was worried by the very open nature of this, and the possible need to impress with the amount of money given, but genuine feeling was visible and apparent willingness seemed evident. This active involvement had, by the 31st of May, helped swell the total donations, to 40.1 billion yuan (US$5.8 billion).

At the entrance to the upmarket shopping complex groups of young people performed to encourage donations, and we, as foreigners, were called to the front to show our support of the Chinese people. Later, visiting Wal-mart in the same shopping centre, I saw the staff preparing white tissue flowers to pin to their lapels. Exactly one week after the first quake the staff of Wal-Mart, and the country, stood in silence to remember the dead and think of those suffering and assisting. At Number 1 Middle School one class participating in an ‘English Evening’ changed their presentation, at the last minute, to make a moving tribute to those caught up in the disaster.

In the end it is the reaction of the people of Zhangzhou that has underlined to me the scale of the event. Their generous giving, active involvement and sincere concern show the magnitude of the disaster and how deeply it is felt across China.

Spring Festival: Lantern Festival and other stories

Travelling during Spring Festival
I'm apprehensive as we set off to buy tickets for the two-hour trip from Zhanjiang, Guangdong, to Hepu in the adjoining province of Guangxi, as I've heard how busy the public transport is during Spring Festival. The station, however, is quiet and the queues minimal, but the bus we want to catch has been cancelled! No reason given, and no alternatives other than one leaving much later, so we try another bus station on the other side of town. Here the queues are much longer and I'm intimidated by the mass of people milling around with boxes of fruit, trussed up chickens, and babies tied to their mothers with a blanket, and am assaulted by great boards of unintelligible ‘hieroglyphics’ mounted above the row of ticket booths. As I acclimatise to the action I see it is really fairly civilised with nice neat lines that move reasonably quickly, and the tracts on the walls simply list all the destinations, the minimum price, the maximum price at normal times, the current price (which, given it is Spring Festival, is close to or above the highest price) and the ‘time to drive the vehicle out of the station or the parking lot’.

Finally the bus driver arrives with his flask of tea and the passengers; the lǎo wài (us, the ‘foreigners’), the locals and their babies, the fruit and the live chickens, are all loaded onto the bus. I'm fascinated by the chickens; why are so many people travelling with chickens? Is there a Spring Festival chicken supply problem so visitors must BYO-chicken, or can’t the family egg ‘factory’ be left at home over the holiday? We find out later that it is a local tradition for a returning daughter to give a chicken to her parents.

Fireworks and couplets

In Hepu, walking to our friend’s home we pass colourful street stalls selling fruit or fireworks, and doorways with crisp newly-hung red paper couplets with simple, and dramatic, black text. The laneways are littered with mounds of scorched red paper, from numerous firecrackers, swept and left in piles so you can see red, for luck, from your home. Later we indulge in fireworks, spending ¥60, about $10, for a huge bag; they are made locally and, from the English instructions and the names, apparently for the American market. Joining the children of the household, and more chickens, on the roof we set off our fireworks, along with hundreds of other families across the neighbourhood. Though we rather regret buying the firework that looks like a hand grenade; its soundwaves shuddered through my chest and temporarily deafened our host in one ear. I don’t like to think what the chickens thought of it all.

Lantern Festival
In the middle of the two-week Festival we head to Hong Kong to renew my Chinese visa, and we discover some amazing lanterns for the final day of Spring Festival celebrations. The Olympic mascots, all playing sports, are big, bold and very engaging.

Later, in the parks of Xiamen and Zhangzhou, we see equally elaborate metal framed and fabric-covered constructions. Some are traditional, but many are sponsored by local companies and government bodes, resulting in the odd sight of lanterns shaped as energy saving light bulbs, canned food, or aeroplanes, while in Zhangzhou we find a display of the Chinese National Women’s Volleyball team, who train here. Despite the cold weather people stream into the parks, causing considerable congestion in the surrounding streets. Adults and children alike relax, eat snack food, clasp small electric lanterns on sticks either traditionally shaped or, more often, like popular toys, and wear illuminated devils horns or angel wings.

For me the highlight are two massive dragons sitting face-to-face adjacent to the Xiamen island park, their graceful curves and elaborate whiskers reflected in the water. Chinese design often leaves me confused in its elaborateness and, in my mind, over complication; yet these dragons leave me breathlessly impressed.

Spring Festival: The New Year Celebrations

As it approached the 7th of March, we eagerly anticipated spending Chinese New Year with one of Roger’s friends in Zhanjiang, on the coast of Guangdong Province. However our enthusiasm was outdone by our local friends, many of who showed a child-like excitement in the lead up to Spring Festival. Just like our Christmas, their spirits were high as they looked forward to returning home to family and friends. And, just like our Christmas, there was lots of shopping, eating and drinking as companies entertained staff, friends caught up before leaving town, and people prepared for the holiday. Some of our women friends, while generally excited, were not quite so enthusiastic about the associated spring cleaning. Traditionally the house should be cleaned from top to bottom before Chinese New Year, but there is a break; you do not clean, or wash your hair, on New Year’s Day for fear of sweeping or washing away your good luck.

The weather prior to Spring Festival had been unseasonably cold, so bad that we understand it made the international news. We were told it was the worst in 50 years, and, while it wasn’t freezing in Zhangzhou, our apartment is built for warmer weather. We have no heating and the ceramic tile floor and concrete structure just sucks away body heat. Working at home involved me wearing 8 layers of clothes, wrapping myself in a rug and clutching a hot water bottle. Sometimes it was warmer outside! As we travelled in the southern, and usually warmer, parts of China we discovered the hotels were similarly no better, not even an electric blanket, and we needed to rug up when visiting restaurants as they were rarely heated and often highly ventilated with windows and doors left open.

Further north it was much harsher with the snow, ice and rain disrupting power supply, transport and, more critically, the Spring Festival celebrations. Guangzhou railway station became a temporary refuge to thousands of workers all desperate to return to their families, and many roads were impassable; we heard of one man skiing home down a highway. To us this showed initiative, but apparently the police were not so impressed. The snow and ice damaged powerlines, and coal production and distribution was reduced, leaving many places with power shortages and one city with none for two weeks. The local press made much of the workers who did not return home for their own celebrations so they could repair powerlines and, literally, stay at the coalface. Meanwhile the highest level of government assured us that all would be done to get the power back on and everyone home for the Spring Festival Holiday.

Fortunately our travel plans were not disrupted and we arrived at our friend’s house mid afternoon on the last day of the Chinese year 4704. We were warmly greeted by the whole family (our host, his child, 4 cousins, his parents, 3 sisters, and 2 brother-in-laws) as they were all staying in the 3 bedroom apartment so they could spend as much time as possible together. The modern apartment was simply decorated with a cumquat tree hung with hóng bāo (red envelopes), a couple of red lanterns on the balcony, some tinsel, and the debris from many snacks and hóng bāo hurriedly torn open by children eager to extract the cash. We had anticipated providing our host’s son with a hóng bāo but realised on seeing all the young cousins that our outlay was going to be greater than expected!


Like many Christmas lunches, the Chinese New Year’s Eve lunch was late in the day to ensure all could be there. I lost count of the dishes but I think there were 14, and while there were more courses than in an average meal, and possibly a preference for serving the family’s favourite dishes, the food was similar to everyday cooking. And, just like most Australian Christmas lunches, the women had spent a long time in the kitchen, a lot was drunk, and the kids were seated at a low table in front of the television. Later in the afternoon we prepared dumplings that would be a snack while watching the CCTV New Year’s Eve performance. This is an institution with many families gathering around the television to watch singing, dancing, and comedy skits up until midnight. Then, despite Zhanjiang and many other cities banning them, the fireworks began and continued, noisily, into the early morning.

The next day, the first day of the New Year, we chanced on a local Wushu troop performing lion and dragon dances to the beat of a number of drums. The young men, and a few women, had been engaged by Crowne Plaza Hotel to ensure good fortune for the New Year. The show and athleticism was impressive. It concluded with 2 lions fighting for a hóng bāo hung, along with a bunch of carrots, spring onions and other green leaves, over the door of the hotel; the winner ‘ate’ the hóng bāo and spat out the vegetables.

Later, exploring the riverside parks we discovered we were not the only people out on the streets enjoying the cool but sunny day. The broad promenade along the wide estuary was thick with people; parents and their children, couples, friends walking their dogs, and of course vendors selling snacks, helium balloons, kites, and any other trinket that would attract the attention of passers-by. Interestingly the next day the streets were almost empty; New Year’s Day was obviously the day for promenading.

Many family and a few restaurant meals later, and after drinking much bái jiǔ (white spirit) and red wine, we left Zhanjiang and the wonderful hospitality shown to us. We were only 4 days into the 15 day Spring Festival and there were still more pleasures to follow.

A typical day: Morning

Roger moved to China 18 months ago and I joined him about this time last year. He had considerable cultural knowledge and burgeoning language skills drawn from travelling extensively in China for work over about 12 years. However, my knowledge was limited to a couple of years of Chinese language studies at the beginning of high school, giving me an interest in Chinese culture but limited language skills and very little understanding of what day-to-day life might be like.

Our typical Chinese day starts before dawn with the sound of roosters crowing and ducks objecting to being taken to market. It sounds rural, but we are living on the outskirts of a small and provincial city in tropical South East China, near the cosmopolitan city of Xiamen, across the straits from Taiwan.

The ‘village life’ we hear is generated by the original inhabitants; their old buildings have been demolished and they, and their poultry, have been housed in new apartments. From our neighbouring apartment windows we watch village life played out in the concrete courtyards formed by 7 storey walk up blocks. We see the daily card game played by a seemingly endless stream of men, we see grandparents minding grandchildren, we see funerals, sausage making and rubbish recycling, we see laundry draped on poles supported by bamboo tripods, and red lanterns hanging from balconies.

Pass through the gate, in the high wrought iron fence, into to our apartment complex, and you are in another China; middle class China. Our blocks are similar in structure and external finishes to the adjacent buildings, but the apartments are larger, the courtyards lush with trees and manicured lawns and shrubs, with facilities including tennis and basket ball courts, a swimming pool, fountains and fish ponds, and a bi-lingual kindergarten. The contrast is striking.