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| The Great Wall of China |
Beijing, China 1988
When they told us we would be taking the train, I was
ecstatic! And when they said it
would take 4 days from Beijing to the city where we would live for the summer,
I was beside myself! A steam train trip
across China was an unexpected adventure! ("They" were the Chinese railroad officials and "we"
were a group of English teachers whose plane tickets were suddenly no longer valid, eager to reach our destination.)
When the summer session ended, I would stay on for the rest of year and
continue teaching. The rest of the
group would return to America.
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| Singing at a celebration |
The school year began quietly. I settled in to teaching a few days a week, learned local
languages, to navigate my way to markets in sardine cans called busses, and
made dear friends. I taught college students and they were
wonderfully curious & eager to transform their textbook language into idioms, slang and conversational American English. Like wide-eyed kids in a toy store, they'd ask questions
about me, my life, my culture, my family, my country. I saw stunning fireworks on Chinese New Year, rode a 2-humped
camel, learned to play the dombra, learned to speak enough of three languages to buy food, and got reacquainted with Jesus.
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| Apple Lady at the School Gate |
In late spring, 1989, news of protests in Beijing made small waves in my city, like the last ripples from a rock thrown into a pond. It was, after all, nearly 2,000 miles from the capital of China. I started sensing subtle tensions. My students were more reserved and distanced themselves from me, and clouds of worry gathered in the eyes. I noticed the usually unarmed PLA soldiers, who patrolled the city more like a Sunday stroll, now strapped on side arms and carried automatic weapons, and the lackadaisical looks they wore on their faces were replaced with suspicion. Veteran English teachers had more details--thousands of students were gathering in Tiananmen Square. The army was massing. We were all praying.
Massacre
June came, and the ripples became waves. I began to hear the word massacre and Tiananmen Square in the
same sentence. Remember, this was
1989 and my only connection to the non-Chinese world was a short wave
radio. My TV showed only one scene
over and over again--soldiers in army vehicles being pelted with
rocks by students. Once clear
broadcasts from Voice of America became lifeless static. I could not call home. I and a group of other teachers were able to leave China safely late in June, my year commitment not quite complete. A plane flew us to
Guangzhou, and a bus took us to the border, and clearing customs we finally boarded a train for Hong Kong. At the train station, I stared in horror at
this June 12, 1989, Time Magazine cover photo, and then called my mom and dad.
June 4, 2012
To be honest, I did not remember about this world-shaking event until I saw a post on Facebook today. But the memories brought back faces, smells, tastes, chills and the longing to return. I do not feel like I was a part of history, like those I know who were in Beijing at the time. That was 23 years ago--truly a lifetime ago. I'm no political pundit and I cannot comment in that way on China then or now. But I do know what the Bible says about rulers and kings-- "Now therefore, O kings, be wise; be warned, O rulers of the earth. Serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling. (Psalm 2:10-11); and what it says about the oppressed "The Lord works righteousness and justice for all who are oppressed." (Psalm 103:6).
China will always be in my heart.
