Destination Chungking, the 1943 memoir I wrote about in my last post, ends with a paean to the coolies of China, written during a time when the Communists, led by Mao, were beginning to challenge the leadership of Chiang Kai-shek (whom Han Suyin’s husband served under in Chungking). Han is sympathetic to the Communists, though she comes from a wealthy, cultured family and is angry with friends who treat the workers—the peasants or coolies—as less than human.
These coolies, mentioned occasionally in the book as shirtless, as Han the crowds in the underground shelters during the Japanese bombings of Chungking, are the equivalent of today’s shirtless migrant workers who are causing consternation for those in charge of getting Beijing ready for the Olympics, reported here in an essay about choosing reality over perfection:
Truth be told, going shirtless is not really in very good taste - it’s less than ideal and the very least is not in accordance with the standards of modern civilization. For an influential, world-famous, metropolis like Beijing, it’s something of a loss of face. But the reality of shirtlessness is not just Beijing’s reality - it is China’s reality as well. I will suggest that this phenomenon exists in practically all of China’s cities. Making shirtless migrant workers completely disappear from Beijing’s streets in a short time is not difficult to accomplish, but have we ever considered that Beijing without shirtless migrant workers is no longer the real Beijing, no longer the real China? We always say that the greatest inspiration, the greatest life force, comes from reality. When friends come from afar, we ought to warmly welcome them in a festive atmosphere. But we must not lose the opportunity to show the world the real China.
As we polish off a double issue of Guanxi: The China Letter focused on Olympic preparations, I’ve been reading the debates about whether China will be ready. An experienced China watcher said to me last week that it’ll be much better than Athens, the Chinese really have everything done now, and they know how to pull off huge events. That sounds good, but when I think about the traffic, the subway signs, and the difficulty in finding an ATM that takes foreign cards, I wonder. I was also talking to my son Tom, who’s in Beijing now, about the very simple issue of hygiene. He said that workers on building sites near the Kerry Centre, one of the most Westernized complexes in Beijing, are using the sidewalk for all bodily functions. There is a supposed ban on spitting in the street, which the Western press reports with great seriousness and a lack of understanding of the power of habit.
When I’m next in Beijing and see a shirtless worker or have to step over or around something less than pleasant, I will remember that my own grandparents were farmers and carpenters and I will think of Han Suyin’s words:
These are the builders and carriers, the peasant farmers, the workers of China. They built the palaces of Peking and the Burma Road. They made the Great Wall and the Shelters of Chungking. …They keep life going…. Everything in China depends upon them. Coolies. I would make the word ‘coolie’ a name of honour before the world!
She then describes watching a coolie put down his load to read a newspaper posted on the wall., “I who watch am suddenly happy and confident of the future, because I see you, in the mist of dawn, lift your finger to read. . . .”
By the way, my copy of this wartime book has a jacket printed on the reverse of another book’s jacket – true recycling.