Job Discussion Forums

[kimo]

In the bedroom my wife is sleeping. I dare not wake her up. But the Pekinese barking in the garden below does not share my concern. Outside the south windows of my old, sixth-floor apartment, it is a glorious, fresh morning, sunny with a pale, blue sky. The sandstorms surprisingly have not yet arrived this year. Nearest to me I can see the buildings of a large university. Construction cranes at both ends of the campus lie idle. They haven’t moved in days. Much further off, a little to the West, a television tower sends signals out to the world. Perhaps those signals reach as far as a sister tower in Toronto.

On the North side of my building lies the Third Ring Road, an eight-lane monument to confused engineering. Normally, at this hour cars would be hopelessly stalled as drivers attempt to make their way to work in a crunch of cars, buses, trucks, and bicyclists. But traffic is moving briskly on this Wednesday. Work and school for many have simply been cancelled. The few drivers who are out are driving faster, taking full advantage of the free lanes. At the bus stop across the way, only three or four people wait. They must have to work. Seats will be easy to find. In front of them, one man jogs by trying to stay normal in these abnormal times. A lone cyclist passes him.

That’s my window from Beijing.

In a little while, I know my wife will arise and we will go to the bank and transfer payment for our rent. After that we will go to a pharmacy to buy her some cream for a rash. We cannot delay doing these errands any longer. The landlord is expecting the money. We’ll have to go to our cramped, little bank branch, the only place in the whole city where I know there will be a throng of people, and wait in a line that warps around like an impatient amoeba. Before entering the building I will dawn a mask, not to rob the place but to hopefully protect myself against Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome. That is why I hope against hope the cream works. If the rash gets worse we would have to take my wife to a hospital. I can’t think of anything I would rather not do.

To err on the side of caution, after those errands are done we will go shopping. We have no pressing need for anything. We’re fairly well stocked. I have made several runs already. In contrast to the frantic buying of last week in which shelves were emptied of bread, noodles, rice, vegetables, and other staples here, shopping this week is like a quick run through a local convenience store. The usually over-helpful staff seem unusually willing to stay out of the way. They all wear masks. They can’t be blamed. When we finally come home, I plan to stay put until I can bear the isolation no longer.

Statistically, a few expatriates around here forcefully argue I am more likely to be hit by a truck than fall ill with SARS. They are not worried they say. Why should I be they ask. Be rational, according to the statistics. They continue to frequent their customary hangouts and do so without fear they claim. They think it is nuts that schools are closed and people are holing themselves up indoors. I want merely to respond with yikes.

I think I am being rational when I decide to stay in and no longer visit restaurants or go running in the warm spring sun. The rationalists do not live in the area of the city rumored to be the worst hit place in the entire world. I do. And I learned a long time ago if I go looking for trouble I will find it. I know something about roads and trucks and can use that knowledge to lower my odds of being struck. I don’t need numbers to tell me how to behave on the street. I also know something about the habits of my fellow human beings and I even know a little about the transmission mechanisms of bacteria and viruses and know how others’ habits can put me at risk to contract something I don’t want. Don’t I have an obligation to myself, my wife, my future children, and my adopted community to try and stay healthy I counter.

I also know something of undue panic and worry and don’t want to come back to my building from a run, warm and sweaty, and get whisked away somewhere because someone believes I have a fever. I also don’t want people to see me in such and such restaurant, especially if the rumors are true about my neighborhood. Who can predict that an outbreak won’t be associated with such a place? I am an outsider here. I might even be deemed the one responsible. The arm-banded ladies are out. Their eyes seem keener than ever.

I do admit, though, more information would help. I would like to know what is true and what is not. That might make the statistic mongers more palatable to me. I would also like a machine that would say that person is clean and this place is safe. There is no such machine. What course have I but to virtually lock myself in and pray that blue skies don’t soon give way to the yellow sand?

I feel the stress. I feel the worry. I feel them in a way I have never before. I think at this point I would go home if I could. But I cannot. My wife is Chinese, a lovely, warm-hearted Beijing girl. My government’s policy means there is no room for her on the boat. Is this a reverse Titanic? She is brave and practical and has told me to go. She says if I can’t work here now, I am wasting my time. Work is not the issue. I will not leave her here alone.

[Hamish]

Very nice! And, in my opinion what we should do more of on this forum.

Take cover dear friends. Get out the red pens. I may actually post some of my turgid prose here.

Regards,

[Egas]

Thanks for that Kimo. Well written, even if you claim to be no writer.

You may have noticed that on my recent contributions to the forum I am not criticising others for their views on SARS. There is no point in that as we are all in this together. In that article I wrote I expressed my attitude, but I am not trying to persuade anyone to think the way I do. It was just an expression of a day or two in Beijing in recent times, and some of my thoughts and reactions.

I hope that you and your wife come through all this in good health.

Egas

[chinasyndrome]

Encore, Kimo!

Especially poignant, the part about not leaving your wife. When we marry our Chinese woman, for better or worse, we marry into their country too.

I hope you and yours remain safe and well.

Regards,

Les Harrison (and I'm sure my Jiangxi wife, Christine, would want me to include her regards too).

[Hamish]

Downwind from Beijing
A fumble-fingered tribute to Melville

Call me Centenarian. Some time ago - never mind how long ago exactly - having little or less in my wallet, and, in all my heart, no residue remaining of interest in airline flying, I designed to blunder into the ununionized, contractless, capitalist economy, and try my hand once more. Risk, it is my elixir to leach acid from my stomach, and bile from my soul. Whenever I find myself straining down about the corners of my mouth; whenever it is a damp, grey, dreary, overcast, drizzly, anon Christmas December in my soul (I HATE Christmas); whenever I awake and find myself standing before Christian churches, painted as an headhunting warrior, screaming insults, profanities, and vituperation at those innocents who enter and leave; when I purposely strike my thumb repeatedly with a hammer; when I try once more to establish communication with an ex-wife, just to lure the Grand Old Feeling�s return for the sake of vivacity; when I find myself reflecting on my record with the Boy Scouts, having been drummed out of its legions for counterfeiting merit badges at the age of 13; when testing the positives and negatives of my achievements, I find the sum to be a large negative number sufficient, if electrical, to collapse our Galaxy in upon us; when my first thought at awakening is that Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana, Dallas, Texas, any part of Texas, Georgia, Yakima, Washington, The Carolinas, Oklahoma, the Georges Bush, and Arkansas are part of my country; and, especially when venom grasps my helm requiring my best effort to prevent my stepping into the street and methodically kicking all I encounter in the groin - it is at this psychic precipice where my conscience dictates my launching an adventure, thus to rejuvenate those better angels of my id.
So, having had torn from my grasp the helm of an airline flight department by the rude slap of Boeing airplanes against the side of the World Trade Center Towers and the Pentagon, my bride and I launched for the sunny climes of China. Here, it was and remains our intention to assist that country�s huge mass of humanity in its� struggle to add the English language to its long list of cultural attainments. We want to do so, I hastily add, without polluting the language with references to some superstitious fascination with the afterlife, or handling snakes.
Arriving in Baoding, we began the nest building process and, by April of 2003, have arranged a very comfortable residence on top of an old brick building overlooking the equivalent of a �quad� at our small school of choice. From arrival to the present, at every point along the spectrum of definitions and descriptions of our life in China, the word �interesting� was apt.
Even more �interesting� are our present circumstances. SARS, Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome, has defiled our space and changed the atmosphere as surely as flatulence will alter lovemaking. In its presence, our activities may be the same, but, alas, are impacted negatively by the overwhelming, pervasive ambiance.
In the short space of a week, walls have been built where none stood before and everyone is wearing a numbered, color-coded identification badge. When the wind is right, the sour smell of fear is in the air.
To comfort my students who, in their trusting youth turn to clapped out, grey old English teachers for counsel, I repeatedly babble the same formula. �What is the worst thing that can happen to you?� I ask. They mutter to themselves and look wonderingly at each other in response. �You might die!� I answer myself. �You already knew you were going to do that,� I remind them. �So, nothing has changed! You always knew you were going to die. You just didn�t know when. You still know you are going to die and you still don�t know when. Nothing has changed!�
I don�t know why I can�t get some ordinary common sense across to these kids. It must be the generation gap. I�ve gotta work on my methods and practices.

Regards,

[chinasyndrome]

Imagine a vast stadium. Hundreds of thousands of voices all raised in wild cheering. Spontaneously, a 'Mexican Wave' erupts, racing its way around the confines in exultant appreciation.

That would be me.

Good show, Hamish, although only 5% of the potential audience here will be able to read, let alone understand it!

Author! Author!

[wOZfromOZ]

Happy days to you Jim Bishop from Baoding!

Excuse my ignorance but who's Melville or shouldn't I ask?

You've not lost your talent with an evocative collection of images in your Beijing Sars story! Well done mate - n' keep ya pencil sharpened. .....more to come I hope!

wOZfromOZ

[hubei_canuk]

"Excuse my ignorance but who's Melville or shouldn't I ask?"
anonyomous Ozperson poster
=======================================
Samuel Gardner Melville
1936 - 1989
Star of American TV series: The Rookies
---
Glad to see Hamish salute this fine man!!!!!!!!
Check out Melvile's pics at the memorial website below.
..
http://sam.mkbmemorial.com/

[wOZfromOZ]

From: chinasyndrome
To: wOZfromOZ
Posted: Wed Apr 30, 2003 2:18 pm
Subject: Melville
Hi,

Melville was a writer of sweeping drama and detailed characterisation, whose most remembered work is 'Moby *beep*'.

I wasn't sure if you were having a joke or asking out of real curiosity, but no one had posted a reply so I thought I'd help out.

Cheers.
___________________________________________________________
......................Canadians! LOL

wOZfromOZ

[kimo]

...in Hamish.

Thanks to all who responded to me kindly for my story. I wish you all well, too.

[arioch36]

Very nice post, especially in contrast to egas. Liked them both. I hope this site continues to see different outlooks presented so nicely

Chris in henan

[kimo]

I just got confirmation that my area of Beijing is the worst hit. One wouldn't know it by the activity immediately outside my building. The fruit and vegetable man is raking in the cash. He is happy.

One article I saw said 20000 people divided up into 4000 groups went around and gave out thermometers to all households. Hmmmm! I didn't get one.