March 26, 2007

At a Loss for Words ( a repost)

this is a repost of my favorite post that was recently published in Asiance Magazine March edition (http://asiancemagazine.com/mar_2007/car_bombs_going_off_in_iraq_the_genocide_in_dafur_the_aids_epidemic).
I don’t think the ommiecay ensorscay appreciate it. but hey see ostpay elowbay. ahay ahay.

Car bombs going off in Iraq, the genocide in Dafur, the AIDS epidemic….

Those were the images that flashed across the TV as I ate lunch inside my cousins’ apartment. Outside, Beijing’s weather reflected the somber realities of shattered lives making news.

Dark, overcast and not a glimmer of light anywhere.

After lunch, I had planned to make a return to the flea market at the Worker’s Stadium that comes every four months. But, all of a sudden I was in no mood to dig for bargains, to buy clothes that I really did not need. I realized then that living in Beijing has already affected me in more ways than one.

Sure, like all bleeding heart liberals, hell even Republicans with a heart (jk), it is not hard for me to empathize with scenes of despair. In fact, I dedicated all of last year discussing, dissecting poverty and development issues to better understand the roots of inequality.

Nevertheless, it was easy to read the articles, write the papers, and then carry on with my own life. A life where suffering only surfaced when the occasional homeless person crossed my path in the streets of London. And later, surrounded by the affluence of the Silicon Valley, it was even easier to feel disconnected with events affecting the poor halfway across the world.

But, now everywhere I turn in Beijing, poverty stares me right in the face. Sure, like you have all read and heard a million times, China is the next big thing. China, the superpower developing at unheard of rates. China, the country with the new middle-class parents and their spoiled only child. The only child who is fed McDonalds, and who is constantly dressed in new clothes instead of only during New Years like in yesteryears of China’s not so distant past.

Yet for every Chinese person that is reaping the supposed benefits of an increasingly open economy, there are many more who are being left behind. And yes, I’ve read the statistics before coming here, “In the early 1980s, the richest 10 percent of the population earned 20 percent of the national income. By 2005, the top 10 percent earned 45 percent of the income, while the bottom 10 percent only earned 1.4 percent.” (www.geocities.com/dale_wen2000/Globalization/en.doc).

However, as the old saying goes, “Seeing is Believing.”Well, I saw IT when I walked along the sidewalks of Sanlitun past the groups of migrant workers in their cheap suits, cigarette dangling out of the corners of their mouths as they build skyscrapers that appear overnight. Lightening-fast development, or so it seems, does not magically occur. According to various reports, these workers, work on average 18-hour shifts, seven days a week for a wage of 900 rmb a month. Do the math, that’s $112 US dollars. And $112 dollars, they are sometimes not even paid. Labour is a’plenty in China, but so is crony capitalism.

I saw IT when I stepped out of Touch, a trendy bar in Hou Hai, Friday night. A middle-aged man asked whether he can take us somewhere in his pedicab. He was not dressed in rags, but I sensed the desperation in his voice. For the rest of the night, this scene repeated itself all along the road that wraps around the lake, illuminated by the endless lights of restaurants and bars catered to tourists, expats, and of course Beijing’s forever-talked about middle-class. Pedicab drivers, cigarette sellers, masseuses, the person dressed in a polka-dotted clown suit (I kid you not) selling roses….each of them hoped that I would use my fortune to lessen their misfortune.

I saw IT again last night when I stepped outside the Chaoyang Culture Centre, where I just had the privilege of watching the spectacular Kung Fu moves of the world-famous Shaolin Monks. Adjacent to the parking lot where the tourist buses began to pull out, stood a large crowd of people enjoying an old revolutionary movie played out on a tattered white screen. The movie was free you see, and one of the few forms of entertainment that is provided specifically for the working class of Beijing. However, unlike in the lobby of the Chaoyang Culture Centre, popcorn and soda were not sold since this group could not afford to buy.

“IT ” —being the juxtaposition of the life I lead and the life of the have-nots in Beijing— is starting to bear weight on me.Instead of spending the afternoon shopping as planned, I found myself unable to shut off the images with the flick of the remote. So, the news stayed on, is still on. And as the problems of the world continues to be broadcast, I am left to wonder how to reconcile feelings of unease with the reality that is happening this time, right outside my doorsteps.

i am being ensoredcay

luckily for oxypray erversay, i can still speak my mind. right now, my blog is still being ockedblay from within china. but i will not let some one sitting behind a desk in china stop me. previously i had deleted the offending posts, thinking they would help stop the ensorchipcay. but now, here they are again. unedited.

btw, it’s fun to eakspay in igpay atinlay.

okay so now going back sometime in January….

the young man walked into our office, speaking with a country accent. he begged for help to demand wages left unpaid. a day laborer who spent time remodeling our office. our accountant called his former employer. they hung up on him and he left distressed.

taken advantage of.

there was nothing we could do, but i wish there was something that i can do.

yet i remain complacent.

ever since i wrote the blog of the migrant laborers (at a loss), i have done nothing. my weekends remain all about ME. on Sunday, i walked by the workers sleeping in the tents of sanlitun lu, but what good is my empathy at that moment?

sometimes my guilt is allayed by the fact that the purpose of my job is to do” good. ” but “good” isn’t always enough. labour violations often are just words without consequence printed in a report.

i want to do more. yet i remain complacent.

March 21, 2007

i feel like chicken tonight (well no, not really)

but i ..

i feel like my heart is being rinsed twice, short wash, cold cycle, then tumble dried.

i feel like my pms is more pronounced each passing year.

i feel like staying at the ritz carlton and not at some supposed 3 star hotel in the boondocks of Shanghai because my firm tries to be “cost-effective.”

i feel excited about launching green drinks beijing because ‘m actually being proactive about something i care about for once (beyond work).

i feel lucky to have so many close gfs scattered through out here and there. every where.

i feel like i miss my dog poochie.

i feel like laughing when remembering that emily’s mom told her after our diner in xiamen, that she had just eaten some sheep sticks, sticking out her index finger as she said it. sheep sticks as in P-E-N-I-S. ew, at least i’m vegetarian i had thought. no confusing sheep sticks for some exotic root. i’m safe. then i was told the “grass jelly” i was eating was actually made from turtle shells. bloody fantastic.

i feel like the guys in beijing suck. actually as a friend said earlier today. it’s the same shit, just different place.true, so very true.

but really, i’m fine. thanks for asking.

March 15, 2007

angst in xiamen, fujian province, prc, from the desk of my hotel room

i feel so yucky inside. not even mushroom risotto and salad covered not with the– ubiquitous and awful thousand island dressing of china, but with a yummy vinegarette– could keep my thoughts in check tonight. eating alone, i don’t mind it at all. it’s the fact that my neck starts to hurt from having to keep looking down at my food since i have no one to look up at from across the table. that’s what bothers me.

of course that’s not what is really bothering me. what’s upsetting me is that i often have the tendency to bottle things up inside. seemingly innocuous comments can be like sending me a slap to my face, a punch to my stomach. a pain that lingers on for days.

but they don’t know that. i remain(ed) silent. so it’s not really their fault.

but some friends can. in an instant. even when they don’t see me, all i have to do is say one word in return over the phone. and they know. and it’s over, the moment passes because they have acknowledged what they said has hurt me somehow.

yet this one friend, on the other hand…..doesn’t have a clue. but, how can they not? to say it one time, two times, and then three fucking times on three separate occasions. argh! couldn’t you guage that underneath my nonchalant exterior that you were killing me softly inside?

March 6, 2007

if you’re happy and you know it

clap your hands.

clap clap.

i likey my friends. social calendar—for the most part gets filled up without angst of what am i going to do on the wkd, and who am i going to do it with. new faces are still being sprinkled into the mix. the what do you do in beijing question, has amazingly kept its freshness for me. i have even met enough greenies to try and organize beijing’s first green
drinks.

i’m hoping this once monthly soiree can be a new venue where presently scattered sustainable hedonists congregate and complain about how smoggy the air is. and ponder how the hell we can play a role in creating a “harmonious” society on different fronts. fingers crossed that i might even meet a boy who recycles. or better yet, a boy who knows what offsetting his carbon footprint means. one can dream can’t they? i am afterall, still an idealist at heart.

.work. despite the anticipated changes, it appears the big boss is staying. the plus side is he’s trying to stop ambushing us with his second hand smoke. so things in the office at the very least, are looking less hazy in one sense.

more encouraging is the fact that i do not feel like i have been locked down by the golden handcuffs. for a while, i had thought. shiet. am i stuck in this job pretending that the private sector can and does have a virtuous role in environmental protection? that even though a major client happens to be a huge mining corporation with an agenda to alter the beautiful landscape and lives of rural tibet for a quick buck, i can allay my guilt knowing that another client truly cares whether seabuckthorn helps to alleviate poverty and combat desertfication? have i sold myself out for a thousand more kuai each month in income? need i go back to the non profit world to cleanse the conscience?

well, i have decided that i still have it in me to move on if i ever do reach a point where i can’t go to sleep at night. however, right now i do see purpose of where i am, and i continue to learn and grow in my understanding of china and its nebulous relationships with society and nature. and at the end of the day, i have found a job where i get to read things sprinkled with words like ” sustainable forestry management and bio-diversity protection” with the hope of transforming such phrases into action sometime in the future. private-public partnerships do have a role china, so in the time being, private is where i’ll stay.

plus, i’ve reached a point in my life where i don’t feel guilty of earning myself a sustainable income while keeping my career in focus. i won’t deny the fact that i like getting weekly massages and stuffing my face at the newest restaurant in town.

so yeah, one and a half months more and it will be a year here and i’m happy to say the initial euphoria of living in china has not died down completely. and that in itself, is worth a clap clap me thinks.

March 4, 2007

war zone

it sounds like i’m in the middle of a city under attack by bombs.
but really, its just a bunch of chinese, no make that hundreds, thousands of chinese people setting off firecrackers to ward off evil sprits. and to ring in the new year. i thought new years was last week, but firecrackers keep going off. and mama told me that it was xiao yun jie now. i’m not sure if this festival is part of new years, and don’t really care to find out.

banned for ten years in the city of beijing, your joe schmoe, or chang wang, rather, can buy fire crackers us yanks only see on the fourth of july set off by professionals. so its just not the little poppies. what we get now is amateur light shows scattered across the city. but its not as pretty as it sounds.

one can only hope this is the last day of insanity.


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