发信人: sinyi(流学生)
整理人: roy_young(2004-02-20 01:33:39), 站内信件
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As she kneads Ed's aching shoulders, Xiao Gu opens a conversation
familiar to most resident foreigners.
'You must have loads of money,' she says. Gu, 19, has been
working here for 19 months. When business is good, she earns about
400 yuan a month. She left senior middle school when her Miao
minority family couldn't meet the fees. Her two elder sisters also
left home in Duyun to work in and around Guiyang. Her youngest
brother is still in school.
'This place is very poor,' she says. It's one of the ten most
common statements we hear on the New Long March, but we still haven't
got used to it. We have no idea how to reply.
'No, it's not poor,' is the first, obvious choice, like when a
chef apologises for his poor food or a fluent English speaker bemoans
her poor language skills. Chinese people put themselves down -- the
cue for a complimentary contradiction, modest demurral, etc. (You
see, as Englishmen, we know all about silly rules of etiquette.) But
the problem here is that saying 'no' implies that Xiao Gu is
exaggerating -- maybe things aren't so bad, after all. And when these
words come from a passing wealthy stranger, it sounds insensitive.
So if 'no' is wrong, then how about 'yes'? The trouble is, that's
even worse. It is so final, so depressing, hopeless. Plus -- and
here's the kicker-- it's often downright insulting.
Once upon a time before the New Long March began, we were pretty
sure we knew what 'poor' meant, but after six months on the road, we
have grown increasingly confused. For poverty, like beauty, is in the
eye of the beholder. 'Maybe I cannot define it,' we say, 'but I know
it when I see it.'
How do we know it when we see it? Because it makes us want to
break down and cry.
Long before we catch sight of them, we hear them:Two giggling
boys tumble and prance around a muddy field on top of a muddy hill in
a muddy county of one of China's poorest provinces, Guizhou. Pu Chen
slaps Xiong Kuan with a long, bendy reed he is supposed to be using
on the water buffalo he presently mounts, akin to an emperor astride
an elephant.
This 'little emperor' is very different from his pampered
namesakes back in Beijing. For Pu, 11, has never been to school. His
parents, we are told, 'bu zai le'. Maybe they are dead. Xiong,
however, is affronted at the suggestion that he too is
uneducated. 'I've been to school!' he protests. He is 12.
They goof it up for the camera and strut around a drab field like
two little boys without a worry in the world. They are innocent,
adorable. Their job is to plough the field, preparing it for corn
planting.
We wealthy strangers pass through their lives, collect our images
for the next Unicef poster in Beijing and move on to the next photo
opportunity.
What do we leave behind? Poverty.
One of the strangest things about poverty, we now realise, is
that it has next to nothing to do with money.
The New Long Marchers have walked 3,028 kilometres through six
provinces and one autonomous region, visiting 41 of China's 2,500
counties. China's new premier has visited 1,800. Wen Jiabao says if
the official benchmark for poverty -- an annual per capita income of
635 yuan -- were raised just 200 yuan, then the number of China's
poor would treble to 90 million.
While the statisticians and statesmen play with numbers, let's
get back to basics, or in this case a massage table in Guiyang where
Ed tries a new approach. 'Look, honestly,' he says, 'I'm not rich by
foreign standards.'
'Who cares about your standards?' says Xiao Gu. 'Look, you can
travel, you have time off work. I can't do any of those things.
You're rich and I'm poor.' She pummels a last calf, packs up and says
goodnight.
She refuses a tip.
----
Man should be faithful
and walk when not able
and fight till the end |
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