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[Egas]

Here is an article I wrote for an Australian newspaper. For those out of Beijing it may add something to your understanding of what is happenning here.

Don't let the little beasties get ya down.

Egas

At the Edge of the Irrational In Beijing.

It is Friday afternoon in Beijing, capital city of The People’s Republic of China and home to 13 million people. Spring is in the air. Late winter rains and heavy winter snows have meant that the grass and trees have turned a refreshing dark green, and flowers are in bloom everywhere. The stark, grey ghost of winter Beijing has been transformed into the beautiful spirit of spring. But something else is in the air here, something that has soured the sweet scent of spring flowers and left the bitter taste of fear in every mouth. SARS, the acronym that needs no introduction.
I sit in the back seat of one of Beijing’s 70 000 red taxis, as much a part of Beijing as Peking Duck, Tiannamen Square and Mao’s giant portrait which watches over that very place.
The taxi is making its way along the fourth Ring Road towards Chaoyang District. This journey is normally the bane of any traveler moving from Western Beijing to East. The cab ride from Sun Li Tun to Wha Tang shopping plaza can take up to 30 minutes at peak hour, (which tends to last closer to three hours in this overcrowded city). Traffic normally crawls along the two-lane road, even as common workers on bicycles that look much the same as those from the Cultural Revolution cruise past, mocking their technologically superior rivals.
But today the journey takes little more than five minutes. I am not sure whether this is indeed a blessing, as the cab driver takes this rare opportunity at driving on long stretches of traffic-free road to drive as fast as he possibly can. As we enter Chaoyang Road, where the two lanes of traffic normally slow almost to a standstill, we move freely in and around bicycles, mini-buses and the larger conventional busses.
Chaoyang Road is the centre of Wha Tang, a huge modern shopping plaza and supermarket. Either side and opposite the plaza, the streets are lined with scores of restaurants. But as I look out, I see only darkened windows and closed doors. In a city where one can eat out for as little as A$2 a meal, everybody is staying home to eat.
Just a week before I had eaten in one of the restaurants here, with my Chinese girlfriend Ping, 28, and her 27 year old best friend Oyang. At that time the restaurants were still open, although patronage had slowed to a trickle. Oyang had only reluctantly agreed to eat out with us, and had spent most of that week huddled away in her apartment in fear of contracting SARS. I explained to Oyang that I was not afraid of the dreaded SARS. I put forward my arguments logically. Every month in China 12 000 people die in car accidents, 12 000 die in work-place accidents, and another 20 000 die from all forms of pneumonia. Why should I be afraid of a disease that has killed (at that time) but a few dozen mostly old and sick people in a country of some 1.3 billion people? Ping listens in frustration as I voice my scorn over the rapidly increasing level of panic in the Chinese population, for the umpteenth time.
“The panic is totally irrational at a mathematical level,” I state forcefully.
Oyang nods politely, and eats nervously.
Now it is a week later and the restaurants are empty. Wha Tang plaza has fared better than some others. It still has a steady flow of white-masked customers proceeding through its turnstiles, although the number becomes smaller every day. Ping and I had been there on Thursday night, and were almost lost in a stampede of panic buying. Shelves were emptied fast, and thirty meter checkout lines snaked back from front of the supermarket. At one point a woman dropped an item of food on the escalator. There was a gasp and the crowd stepped back, the sense of fear almost palpable. But she did not keel over backwards and begin frothing from the mouth, as most onlookers must have expected judging by the looks on their faces. Instead she said sorry, and picked up the item. Normal levels of panic returned, although no one was going anywhere near the woman.
Ping and I left without purchasing.
In Sun Li Tun the posh Pacific Century Plaza has fared much worse than Wha Tang. Strolling through the multi-floor complex on several days during the week I was reminded of scenes from The Quiet Earth, where everyone has died and there is but one man left alive. The difference was the presence of the masked young shop assistants, who stared helplessly as I walked past. On several floors of this huge complex I was the only customer. I proceeded to one of my favorite restaurants on the second floor. There were dozens of empty tables. Other than myself and one table of three brave Chinese men, the restaurant was empty. Nobody else came as I ate my meal in silence. The difference between Wha Tang and Pacific Century Plaza is precisely one rumor. A person is said to have died at Pacific Century Plaza. No one is going there. Except for me. As I wandered around the eerily empty plaza I reminded myself that it is irrational to believe that someone died from SARS there, a disease which has an incubation period of a week or so. Yes, definitely irrational.
The taxi approaches the compound where my apartment is situated. But the guard at the gate will not let the taxi through. It is unclear why. Taxis have always been allowed to pass through into the compound. Just another one of the many SARS changes that seemingly have no rationale except unto themselves. Totally irrational and unnecessary, I tell myself. I get out and walk through the gate.
Ping greets me with a hug. We talk about the day’s events. I tell her that there is trouble brewing at the international school where I work as an English teacher. Despite the government’s decision to close all public schools for two weeks, the management of my school has decided to stay open. With only 22 confirmed SARS cases amongst 1.7 million students in Beijing, closing the school is unnecessary, the management says. Irrational even. But about fifty scared and disgruntled teachers met in a rebel meeting after school, and discussed ways in which to take matters into their own hands. Some are talking about resigning and leaving the country.
I tell Ping that I am tired after a long week of work, and want to go out to one of my favorite local watering holes, the Goose and Duck Pub, a Western-style bar at the Western edge of Chaoyang Park. I just want to unwind, I tell her. But Ping protests and is reluctant to go.
“Come on,” I say. “You can invite Oyang along.”
“Oyang doesn’t want to see you again,” Ping informs me. My girlfriend then tells me that Oyang does not want to have any contact with me again because I am not taking the SARS situation with enough caution. I am a health risk. Oyang it seems has been locked up in her apartment all week, too frightened to go outdoors. But there was more. Ping tells me that Oyang has asked Ping to leave me, and go and live with her, as I am placing Ping’s life at risk with my careless attitude. If I loved her I would show more care, Oyang had said. I am shocked, to say the least. But Ping has at least some common sense. She assures me she will not be moving in with Oyang. Instead she will stick to her original plan to return to her family on Sunday, in the far north-east of China. Not because she is afraid, she says, but because there is nothing for her to do since her office building close down.
We continue to discuss going to the bar. I repeat my statistical analysis. Eventually she agrees to go. It is victory for rationality, I tell myself.
Before we head out we catch up with a little TV. We live in a compound with other Chinese people, away from the ex-pats, so many of whom have little contact with the Chinese and cannot speak a word of Chinese. So we do not get cable TV. We live on the local stuff. CCTV 9, one of the few English language stations here, devotes almost all its news broadcast to SARS. The newsreader tells us that the authorities have taken appropriate measures in dealing with SARS. It assures us that while the situation is challenging, hospitals and medical authorities are dealing well with the situation. We are shown scenes of Beijing hospitals where the entire staff and all patients have been quarantined. They are locked in and not allowed to leave. The camera shows nurses sitting behind the gates, smiling, and a laughing face from a hospital window. The voiceover assures us that those quarantined are in good spirits and “are not panicking.” Having seen the panic and virtual hysteria in the general population, the comment seems at best highly doubtful, at worst absurd.
There was a time when Chinese people believed most of what their leaders told them. If there is anything that can be suggested at this time of the changing attitude of the Chinese people towards their government, then this crisis has shown that the Chinese are no longer willing to blindly believe what the Party propagnda. Indeed many seem downright skeptical. Mao Ze Dong told the Chinese masses to melt down their cutlery and cookware, so that China could match the iron production levels of Britain. They believed him. But in the modern age information is more difficult to control. The authorities though, are trying their best. Government announcements have promised harsh punishments for those who spread rumors. There have already been arrests of those publishing “rumors” on the NET. In the street people are more suspicious of the government than ever before. If there is any agreement amongst people, it is that in initially attempting to hide the truth the Party has handled the crises very poorly. The world has changed since 1989. China is part of the global community. There are hundreds of thousands of foreigners here, and internet access is readily available (though internet bars have been ordered to shut down now, as they are a “health risk”). In acting as if it is an authority above the people, the government has badly misjudged the level of sophistication of its own people. Perhaps they have forgotten that along with economic reform comes a certain expansion of the capacity for autonomy and critical thinking. The damage to the government’s image seems deep, and only time will tell how long-term that damage will be.
Ping and I arrive at the Goose and Duck in rapid time. Getting out of the taxi we see the pub is bustling with ex-pats. The energy is vibrant and happy, a relieving contrast to the grim atmosphere in almost every other place. But there are no Chinese there, who normally comprise about 30% of the patronage.
Chris, a talented Philippino guitarist and vocalist, plays an acoustic set, as he does regularly at the bar. An incredibly hard worker, Chris also plays at two other popular venues in San Li Tun. After he finishes playing, I approach him and ask him if he is afraid of SARS.
“Not at all,” he says coolly. Still, he says that he will avoid going out to bars himself. He then tells me that the Philippino band that he plays with six nights a week at the Minders Bar, have had their gigs cut back to just Friday and Saturday nights. He says that the band will probably take a holiday soon. If he does, it will represent his first day off in four years. Hard workers, these Philippinos.
After a relaxing couple of hours, Ping and I leave the Goose and Duck, and go to the trendy and vibrant Latinos Club. At least it used to be vibrant. We sneak a look in the door and see perhaps six people in a bar that normally contains hundreds of enthusiastic Latino dancers. We scurry off to another bar, and then another, and then another. But it is more of the same. In the capital of China, the most populous country on Earth, Friday night downtown is a ghost town.
As a desperate last attempt to find something interesting, we head for the notorious Maggie’s Bar, which in actuality is little more than a brothel with a dance floor tacked on to give it some semblance of legitimacy. But we know that the music there is often good. When we enter the bar we are shocked to see it is absolutely packed. Ex-pats, mostly of the middle-aged and older age-group, crowd in with girls, mostly prostitutes from Mongolia. They are easily distinguished from the Chinese girls, who are much smaller with more compact facial features. But there are no Chinese girls here tonight.
“I guess the patrons here are a little less health-conscious than the rest of Beijing,” I tell Ping with a smirk. Suddenly we are both feeling very tired. We jump in a cab and head home for the night.

The next morning Ping returns from the Bus station and tells me that all bus tickets are sold out, and she cannot leave today. She tells me that she will rise even earlier the next day, and go and buy the ticket. But there is a caveat. She tells me that she does not know when she can return. All buses to Beijing have been cancelled, not because of government impositions, but because no-one wants to come here anymore.
“Who says that the masses are stupid?,” I quip.

It is Sunday morning, and I am waking Ping to the road-side where she can take a cab to the bus station. As a cab pulls up I kiss her on the forehead, because her white surgical mask covers her lower face. She waves goodbye as the cab drives off. I don’t know when I will see her again.
I feel a mixture of emotions as the cab disappears into the distance. Sadness, and perhaps something else pushing its way up through my stomach. It feels like fear. But no. That would be irrational

[Egas]

I think I'll leave the apsotrophes out when I upload stuff from now on!

[smarts]

thanks for reminding me why i stopped reading australian newspapers
where is stuart littlemore??

diatribe

[Egas]

smarts

I don't appreciate your comments. If you have nothing positive to say, go and grumble somewhere else. Or better still, let's see you write something constructive on this forum.

[smarts]

Egas,

it might be better if you put your writing into perspective as that of an expat who, from your writing, seems to hang out only at expat places, and thus dont have any real solid handle on what is reality in the rest of Beijing, where, for want of a better expression, "the common chinese" hang out and go about their everyday lives.

your the one who is putting your diatribe out for public consumption, so dont be surprised when not everyone agrees with you. Your observations of Beijing are shallow.

Why didnt you also write something about the new Chinese Premier, Wen Jia Bao, getting out amongst the local population - at work sites at hospitals and schools (without a face mask) - to assess the situation on the ground and encourage the population to strive and work together to overcome the SARS challenge.......

I reckon you would probably think twice before doing what he has done.

readers of your article in Australia probably wont be in a position to to distinguish fact from fiction in your article, but BEIJING EYES sure can.

[Egas]

smarts

Perhaps you should actually go and read what I wrote in the article. I live in a Chinese compound at Gan Lu Yuan, Chaoyang District, and am the only foreigner there. I have a Chinese girlfriend and speak Chinese. I eat at Chinese restaurants with the local Chinese people and never see a foreigner anywhere near my compound in a typical week. I have Chinese friends, such as was mentioned in the article. So what are you saying? My comments are invalid because I go in to town once in a while and socialise with foreigners? Or because I still have contact with the outside world? My article is from the perspective of an Australian man living and working in Beijing. It never promised to be any more, nor any less. If you don't find that acceptable, then don't read it.

[Hamish]

[Minhang Oz]

You're correct Hamish.You're/your,too/to,a lot/alot are usually giveaways,not typos.The standard of English on this forum is much better than its little brother,the job discussion journal.I submitted the opinion once that some posters wouldn't pass tenth grade English in their native lands,but appear to be "teaching" here in China. That submission didn't make it onto the small screen. I enjoyed reading the piece,Egas,and I still read the Australian press. Was it published,and where,as a matter of curiosity?

[Egas]

Thanks for your support guys.

I wrote it yesterday and sent it away to quite a few newspapers, The Brisbane Courier-Mail, the Sydney Morning Herald, The Age, New York Times, The Times (London). But, as an a novice I'm not too sure what the result will be. However a friend is going to try to get it published in some local newspapers around the University of the Sunshine Coast, where I am studying from (part-time). Not much good being a writer without an audience, although Smarts may differ with me on that point!

If anyone has any pointers on how to get freelance stuff published, I'd be happy to hear about it. The main problem seems to be finding the right person and email address to send it to.

[chinasyndrome]

[quote="Hamish"]

[once again]

Egas, seems that you want to join the rest of the journalists looking for a story, whom you have so roundly had a go at.

�But you will notice that the post here is satirising exactly that human response to SARS, not the disease itself. That response still continues to be, in my opinion, infinitely more intense and intriguing than anything the disease is putting our way.�

Seems that your human response to the disease, �That response still continues to be, in my opinion, infinitely more intense and intriguing than anything the disease is putting our way.� is to try and make a name for yourself as a writer.

�Thanks for your support guys.

I wrote it yesterday and sent it away to quite a few newspapers, The Brisbane Courier-Mail, the Sydney Morning Herald, The Age, New York Times, The Times (London). But, as an a novice I'm not too sure what the result will be. However a friend is going to try to get it published in some local newspapers around the University of the Sunshine Coast, where I am studying from (part-time). Not much good being a writer without an audience, although Smarts may differ with me on that point!

If anyone has any pointers on how to get freelance stuff published, I'd be happy to hear about it. The main problem seems to be finding the right person and email address to send it to.�

I am not knocking your desire to be a writer�..I have had several things published myself and yet���...and yes I am fully expecting a barrage of replies slagging me off for this comment..if you would like some advice on how to get freelance stuff published let me know. It is not an easy task and you need to find something that a magazine or newspaper feels topical enough to print�something you have right now�so good luck..and I did find your SARS sales piece very funny..so you can do it.

[kimo]

Of course I am not such a creative writer, but I tend not to agree with you on some points, Egas. I also live in Beijing and am the the only foreigner in a large Chinese building in the area of town rumored (not confirmed) to be the hotbed of SARS in Beijing. My Chinese language skills are not yet up to snuff, but I'll bet for a self-taught laowai my Hanzi is as good as most. I usually don't feel the need to boast about it though. And Hamish, I am a teacher (subject to debate, perhaps). Your life here, Egas, does not echo mine at all. Very different!

Statistics are fine. I have studied my share. Engineering and MBA degrees give me a good background. Yep, I am more likely to get run over by a turnip truck. Figures don't mean much unless we really know how to use them and apply common sense to them based on our own experience and good sense. Comparing vehicular miles to foot miles and trying to find where the twain meet and arriving at a number indeed it would be low. Would that make me very inclined to behave in some manner that might raise that number even if it is still very, very low? I don't think so. At least, when I am out walking on the street, I have a very good idea from which direction a vehicle might come before it hits me. Can that be said for someone not displaying symptoms but carrying a contagious disease whose mechanism for transmission is not fully known and that is said, at this time by some experts on viruses, to have a killing rate of four, ten, or sixteen percent? Also, can it be said that every surface I touch does not harbor the disease's germs left by an unseen person just moments before? And can that be said about that momentary lapse when I raise my dirty fingers to my eye to pull away a piece of liuxu (catkin)? (Beijingers know what liuxu is.)

BTW, I meant creative to describe your fine use of the language, not your content. As you said, it is your view. Seems you have found a nice forum to promote yourself. Can't hope that you don't succeed. But I do hope someone writes the irrational view to your piece. Most people here in Beijing, as you wrote, using their own version of rationality have a different judgement. Goodness, nobody knows the Chinese better than the Chinese.

Me? I will just carry my molecular microscope with me everywhere I go. And if I forget it, chances are I won't get sick, but if I do, I do know I probably won't die either. But who wants to get sick. Doesn't look pleasant.

[pratyeka]

Heheh, seems like you lot have a lot of time on your hands all of a sudden!

(Observation from an Australian back in Oz!)


... I think the Age and SMH are basically the same paper with a smattering of local content for Melbourne & Sydney respectively. You'll be right to email just one of them in future.

[wOZfromOZ]

E-gas = sag-E

Interesting but I wont buy into that crap!

Mate
Your article is skillful, insightful, realistic, lucid, accurate, representative.......&.....It's easy to be a useless knocker hey!
( dont listen to their futile, limp and baseless ramblings. )

I think your article is good but it's a tad too long and their are too many references to authentic place names. ........Tends too put the 'canetoad readers' off their 'Weetbix' mate!

just my impressions hey!!!
wOZfromOZ.

[hubei_canuk]

Good counter-point KIMO!!!
..
And, i heard lots of foreigners in Chian get SARS recently but not a single one of them got hit by a turnip truck or any such else.
..
Also you put your finger on it. It's the unknown. You don't know where it is. And you can't trust the government and they people aren't sophisticated enough to be careful enough and they must run and hide from authorities instead of trust them.
Furthermore it just started. There is no established statistical database yet.
Finally even a small artitmetical infection rate will eventually get everybody and a geometrical infection rate will do it sooner.
..
And most finally... about the mortality rate....I just recently realized the reason. This disease is very PAINFUL and ENERVATING.
No matter your age if you are not hardy you will fall to it.
The descriptions coming out from survivors sound a little horrific.
..
No thanks. I prefer a little panic than to have the disease.