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Published: September 20th 2008
Rolling through the livid green Sichuan river valleys, heading into the mountainous heart of this ancient province. The valley expands and opens up, unfolding as a flower, becomes a wide view of low lands beside river, scene all plastered green with mountains looming in the background. And small home-shaped, blue tents in the foreground. We came into this small village/town amongst this gorgeous scenery, which is yet located near the epicenter of the devastating Sichuan earthquake.
We met the generous leaders of the local school, saw the crumbled and cracked structures, too dangerous or too destroyed to be used any longer. We heard the amazing and relieving news that no students, not one, lost their mortal life at this school, the teachers got them all out in time. I thought the place fortunate, for other places nearby had suffered losses more extreme. Though it is difficult to judge what loss is greater than another, especially when I had lost nothing from this disaster. But I wondered that we were here, it seemed there were other places where need may be greater. This perception would change as the week unfolded.
The next morning we walked down to a large, flat area just above the river where 20 or so new school buildings were being speedily constructed. They looked like temporary structures, but were made of new materials and were being constructed with careful design. More than 200 students flooded through that whole area. I ended up standing on the mud ground of one of the new electricless classrooms with 45 middle school students all lined up before me. I’m telling them that when winter comes you know that spring is near, that they must be strong and keep faith, watch their sorrow turn to new strength and joy. But when I looked at their faces, I began to understand my purpose in coming here.
Chinese people, beginning in childhood, are trained to restrain emotional expression. The result is that their emotions bubble up and seethe through them like a boiling pot of water. You see it in the eyes, an awkward smile or laugh that “has nothing to do with humor,” a nervous movement, uneven breath—the emotions are being released, but since so many emotions are harbored within, it is not difficult to notice. As I looked at their faces I saw much emotion, which which would be expected when one faces such grave loss. I saw death, the death of a family member, I saw the fear and insecurity that comes when you lose your home and belongings and take up residence in a blue tent, and I saw great uncertainty about the future. Yet these new found emotions and anxieties struggled with the already present feelings of ambivalence, innocence, carefree joy and a thirst for knowledge, which most young people share.
It would be presumptuous of us to think that we could come here and work out such psychological issues, but it would be ignorant of us to think that we could not make a positive impact. I saw that we could kindle those feelings of hope and joy amidst such hardship and leave in their minds an enduring impression of days of joy that may inspire them to drive through the present unto the dawning of a brighter future. And since most Chinese know the Chinese folk saying “ku zhong, zuo le” “find joy amidst hardship” we would find full cooperation.
Everyday James (fellow volunteer) and I awoke to children, eager to play, learn and connect with supportive and loving adults. All of this was facilitated for one by the fact that James and I can both communicate fairly well in Chinese. And play we did. There came to be about 30 students who came each day and we infused each other with joy and hope by means of the method of infectious play. We played sharks and minnows, a game where the minnows run back and forth across the way and avoid the bite of the little Sichuan children posing as sharks (or the big school officials posing as sharks, they too got in on this action). We improvised games using soccer balls, my arms (basketball hoop), English vocabulary, and our infinite imaginations. We taught English to deeply interested middle school students. We showed them movies, and had them draw their reflections; namely, we had them watch Peter Pan and beheld their diverse and amazing drawings depicting their personal “happy thought” as their emotions overflowed upon paper in the shapes of plentiful trees, rainbows, portraits of the Sichuan mountains, rivers and forests, ice cream cones, tanks, homes, families, and whatever else was imagined. We grew close enough to effectively share words of hope and courage, and to empower each other with unconditional love.
It was a community experience, incorporating a community beyond the school yard. Each day we connected ever deeper with the school leaders as we were incessantly fed delicious Sichuan dishes over conversations spanning across many topics. We took a trip to Qing Chuan town, beheld the tent communities and markets, the improvised tent city which arose in the wake of this disaster, saw the people forging through adversity. We enjoyed a hot pot feast, which included eating many new parts of various animals. We met college students who were home for the summer and they came to share in the service of the students at the school. James and I stayed up late each night discussing many things at great length, helping each other’s minds to integrate and understand these experiences that were rapidly occurring. Two independent film makers from Shenzhen came through town, shooting a documentary about how the children were recovery and rising up and out of this crisis. A local television crew came to the school, recording us playing sharks and minnows as well as the portraits of hope that the students created.
Together we built a fountain of light, of hope and of joy, which welled up from our hearts and filled the schoolyard, spreading out into the surrounding towns, hills and country. The waters of this fountain may endure eternally to extinguish the fires of despair and helplessness, to feed the trees of faith, hope and love that are living in our minds and hearts.
As I rolled out the valley, sad to leave, I realized that these collective meetings, inspired by intentions to overcome hardship with joy and hope, to play and bring light into a situation that is saturated by darkness, truly do have eternal repercussions. The students may forever remember the two foreigners who excitedly and lovingly came to them in this distressing time, to play and learn with them. That memory will forever crush any other preconceptions of foreigners that may be had. But it not only changed our minds, but changed our lives, letting us experience the joy of living and learning in the present moment, the reality that there is ever more to be grateful for, and to let these insights seep deep into our minds that they may educate us when another difficult future becomes the present.
(To anyone considering volunteering, it will never be too late to help in the Sichuan region, unless you leave the earth before then. And if your heart and intentions are to help, love, and support the people in any way, then I tell you there is no limit to the positive impact you can make in the lives of others and all people. If you feel so led, may you go and be a blessing, and help others to realize that they can be the same. )
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George Feng
non-member comment
Ku zhong zuo leæ-P
Although, your camera lost, and pitiful cannot see the pices of you in SC, what you describe shows a perfect reality of the people, esp, the kids are kindled by the love you introduced to and the Chinese folk saying Ku zhong zuo leæ-P ... You have showed a real documentary of part of SC in this devastating period. I am inspired by your writing style. A good description paper never leads its readers to stare out the exact picture from the writer, but close their eyes to be showered in the true scene...