Saturday, May 21, 2011

Northward Excursions

From April 24-May 10, I was on the road, first travelling to Chengdu in Sichuan Province, and then to Beijing. 27 hours on the train from Ji'an to Chengdu. About the same from Chengdu to Beijing. For trips lasting 20+ hours, thank goodness for sleeper cars. Beijing to Ji'an, fortunately only 14 hours, in a hard seat.
We went to Sichuan to film an earthquake preparedness class that a kindergarten had prepared for its students. It was great fun to be around the hundreds of little kids, especially when they did their daily calisthenics. Watch the video: http://baby.163.com/special/5123zhounian/
In Beijing, we attended a week of workshops, documentary film screenings, and theatre performances at the Caochangdi Workstation, where we regularly stayed up until 2, 3, or even 4am each night. The young people there have lived incredibly fascinating lives, and I really admire the honesty and courage with which they told their own stories through film and performance. I was especially moved by Lin Tao's stories about his deceased father, who flitted in and out of his life for many years, Zhang Mengqi's "Self Portrait and Sexual Self-Education" theatre piece in which she used items of clothing to tell about her journey through life thus far, the life experiences of Wen Hui's "3rd Grandmother," Jia Nanan's film portrait of his grandfather, and Xiao Yin's documentary about her own village.
In the mornings, when there were no scheduled activities, I would get up early and head out into Beijing. I had been to Beijing before, in 2009, while my friend Victoria was studying abroad at PKU, when I visited most of the touristy sites, so this time around, it was more of revisiting some of my favorite spots (Beihai Park!), making some obligatory purchases (Wukesong Camera City--wow!) and hanging out with my friend Will.
All in all, it was an eventful, satisfying, memorable, and exhausting trip. I accomplished a lot, learned a lot, and met new people.
On the way back to Ji'an from Beijing, we stopped by my friend Liu Ran's house in Hebei Province. It happened to be Mother's Day, so Liu Ran excitedly bought her mom and grandma some fresh flowers for the first time in her life, and I got my dose of mother-daughter love that day. Liu Ran also visited her grandma's old house, where she grew up and which has been boarded up for years since her grandparents moved to town into a newer house. The neighbors keep a good watch over the house, and we later found out that they notified the police when they discovered the chain on the door was unhooked. Luckily, Liu Ran's dad came over to investigate while the police were still on their way, and he told them not to bother coming. When she heard about all of this, Liu Ran was incredibly saddened to know that she had been mistaken for an intruder in her own childhood home. But later, our hard labors planting peanuts on her family's land provided a welcome and hopeful end to her brief trip home.
Up north, the weather was quite comfortable and just beginning to warm up (we even had to wear coats in Hebei), but when we arrived back in Ji'an, we discovered to our dismay that summer was already in full swing, calling in its troops of mosquitoes, blazing sunshine, and humid heat to wage battle against us.

People on the go | Location: Ji'an Trade Square


















Friday, March 11, 2011

San Diego Interlude

I was back in the US for a couple of weeks, and I think I experienced some reverse culture shock. There are many things that I found myself getting used to in China, only to come back to the US and be reminded that China really is a totally different place.
One of the biggest differences is in hygiene. I was walking with some friends along the Venice Beach boardwalk, and I spotted a public restroom. While my friends stood slightly aghast at the questionable sanitary conditions of the facilities, I glided in without hesitation. I was (pleasantly) shocked to find that the restroom had a door with a lock. In China, the better of the public facilities have squat toilets with individual stalls and doors, while the less-generous ones are simply a long concrete ditch lined with waist-high stalls without doors, so that people waiting in line stand right next to you and watch as you go about your business. It's awkward, to say the least. There was a normal toilet inside this bathroom at Venice Beach, as opposed to a squat toilet. Even though the floor was wet and strewn with soggy toilet paper, the very existence of toilet paper was a surprise. I had gotten used to carrying around a package of tissues, as everyone in China does, to use in restaurants and restrooms. After I finished using the bathroom, I walked outside to wash my hands. To my amazement, there was a soap dispenser next to each of the metal sinks lined up in a neat row outside of the restrooms.
When I rejoined my friends outside, I realized that I felt cleaner and more comfortable outside than I had in a long time. I wasn't walking through clouds of cigarette smoke all the time--although, it being Venice Beach, we occasionally walked through clouds of another kind of smoke.
I also felt lighter and freer than I had in a long time, although this may have been a purely psychological thing. In China, no matter where I was, who I was with, or what was being said, I always had a feeling that I was being watched and listened in on. Perhaps it was due to the fact that all visitors have to register at the local police precinct when they arrive in China. Or maybe it was because websites like Facebook, YouTube, IMDB, and most blog sites are blocked in China. Or because all media in China is closely monitored and censored to present a uniform and carefully tailored message to the Chinese masses. Probably a combination of all of the above. To be fair, it's not as if there is a noticeably heavier police presence in China, but there are vague indications, like some of the ones I mentioned above, that reminded me that I was no longer in "the land of the free, and home of the brave."
One arena in which China beats the US by far is in food prices. Food in China is extremely cheap. The current exchange rate is about 6.5 RMB per 1 US$. A food item costing 1 RMB in China easily costs at least $1 in the US. I guess I didn't get as much of a direct sticker shock from food prices in the US because the numerical values seemed pretty reasonable and on par with Chinese prices, but when I stopped and did the conversion in my head, I realized that most food costs about 6 times in the US what it would have cost in China. But, this only applies to prepared food prices--dishes in restaurants or snacks sold by street venders, processed foods sold in supermarkets, etc. In terms of raw fruit, produce, and meat, it seems that prices per pound (or kilogram) often equal or exceed US prices. Since most of the population is still living in rural areas and growing their own food, however, the majority of the Chinese population doesn't have to deal with these produce prices. One thing the Communist government has done extremely well in China is to solve the hunger problem. The Socialist revolution made it so that even if, with the modern economy, the disparity between rich and poor is growing exponentially, at least everyone has a place to live and can put food on the table. This is not an achievement that the US can lay claim to, or which the government has come remotely close to.
I'm still scratching my head over why prepared food prices can be so much lower in China. The only answer I can come up with is that labor costs in China are extremely cheap, and since labor costs and other overhead costs factor in to a huge chunk of the costs of prepared foods in the US, China beats the US in this respect. While in China, I couldn't wait to get back to the US and have some delicious Mexican, Italian, Greek, Thai, and Indian food that I was used to having easy access to. While back in the US this time, I reminisced about the cheap, delicious noodles, pastry pockets, dumplings, and stir fry dishes that I had enjoyed in China.
All in all, being back in the US made many features of life in the US and in China stand out in sharp contrast with each other. In my extremely biased opinion, life in the US is still much more comfortable and civilized than life in China. But, I could definitely get used to living in China, as long as I could live in a more urban area for at least part of the time.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Happy TU You! (Happy Year of the Rabbit!)

I have just come back from the Chinese countryside, where I spent two weeks with various friends during the Spring Festival.
The weather here has been pretty cold, but the people couldn't be warmer.

First, I visited my friend Li Yihong's home and celebrated the new year with his family, including uncles, aunts, and cousins. I travelled an hour and a half by train, and then another two hours by car to get to his village, but it was well worth it to witness all of the traditions that are still rife there. Li Yihong practices Chinese calligraphy, so he wrote the 对联 (auspicious banners) for his house and also for some neighbors to hang around their doors. I was awakened by the noise of firecrackers around 6am every morning, and the bangs and pops of these auspicious firecrackers continued sporadically throughout the day. I also got to watch the adults pay their respects to the various gods of their village, and on the 3rd day after the new year, the men of each household brought a chicken and a kettle of homemade rice wine to the village entrance to make an offering to the special god at their village temple. People in the village often visit each other's houses to chat (串门) or visit relatives and stay for a meal (走亲戚). I have never eaten so many watermelon and sunflower seeds or drunk so much rice wine (水酒 is warmed up in tea kettles) in my life! One morning, I think I had 5 or 6 bowls of rice wine. During a reunion with Li Yihong's middle school friends, I also got to visit the village of Sanliao, which is "China's premier feng shui culture village" (中国第一风水文化村子)。

Afterwards, Li Yihong and I spent a few days at another friend's house. Like Li Yihong, He Maohua's family are also 客家人 (Hakka), so Li Yihong could communicate with them in their native dialect, but I could only speak Mandarin (普通话) with them. We got to meet lots of Xiao He's middle school and high school friends. I was also treated to a local specialty that is served in copious amounts to guests: 泪茶 or 盐茶 (salty tea). It is a savory drink often made without tea leaves, and resembles soup more than it does tea. Some families make it with crushed sesame and various other indeterminable ingredients. The leicha served at one household was made with bits of pork and cilantro, and had to be eaten with chopsticks. People are extremely hospitable--sometimes overly so. Bowls of leicha are generously ladled out for guests, and they refill your bowl almost as soon as you have taken one drink (and the same with 水酒 or beer), so you can never finish your bowl, or you have to vigorously and politely refuse the refills. People have been known to resort to concealing their bowls underneath the table to avoid refills. When I left Xiao He's house, his family entreated me to stay a few more days.

My last stop before returning to Ji'an was my friend Minnie Sun's house. She also lives quite far from the city roads, and we had to walk for about 45 minutes (after a 40-minute bus ride from the nearest town) to get to her house. You know you are in the country when you wake up to the sound of roosters crowing at sunrise each morning. One thing that definitely impressed me was that all of the Chinese countryside villages that I visited had electricity and running water or easy access to a hand-pumped well. Minnie's cousin got married yesterday morning, so she and I had quite a busy morning filming the wedding festivities in the rain. Her village is quite unique in that everyone who lives there shares the last name Sun (孙), and they are all descendants of Sun Quan (of the Three Kingdoms period). All of the girls must marry outside of the village, and all of the wives of the village are married in from outside the village. No males can marry into the village, so the male Sun lineage is kept pure, and all births are carefully documented in the village records.

I just got back to Ji'an this afternoon. All of the trains and buses are completely packed with people during this time of year (春运) because all of the workers return home to celebrate the spring festival with their families, and then return to their faraway workplaces to resume work. On the bus from Minnie's village to town today, there were at least 45 people squeezed onto a bus with about 25 seats. I had to lean against someone's suitcase and hold on to the overhead handlebars to keep from falling over, and an old man sat on my lap because there was nowhere else to sit.

After all of that excitement, I am happy to be back at my apartment at Jinggangshan University in Ji'an to spend some quality time with the cat, enjoy a few days of peace and quiet, and catch up on some work. There's lots more to say about my first real Chinese New Year experience--my first time on a motorcycle, what Chinese peasants think about the US, the preservation of traditional (funeral, wedding, birth, etc.) customs and rites in Chinese villages, and the "New Socialist Countryside" in China, among other things--but I'll elaborate later and leave it at this for now.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

MAO: A short film

《吉安故事》第一辑影片之六《Mao》“Mao”, the 6th of the First Series of Ji’an Stories


Title/主题: “Mao”
Director/导演: Efan Wu (吴一凡)
Cast/演员: LIU Ran/刘然, ZHOU Yuting/周雨亭, YAO Sheng/姚胜
Genre/类别: Experimental, Narrative/试验,剧情
Dialogue/对白: none/无
Format/格式: HDV PAL (Canon Vixia HFM30 Camcorder)
Edited with/编辑: Final Cut Pro 7
Duration/时长: 14 minutes/14 分钟
tinyurl.com/efanmaowatch


《Mao》剧照 production still
This is a film about being an outsider in Ji’an. Shot entirely from the point of view of a cat and without any dialogue, it tells the story of a kitten who wanders the streets until it is found by two friends. When girls bring the cat home with them, the cat finally finds a place where it belongs. The story is based on my own experience adopting my cat, Mischka, in Ji’an, and includes my own imagining of her life before my friend and I found her crouched, frightened and hungry, in a corner near a busy pedestrian avenue.
这一部短片是有关于在吉安做一个局外人。片子完全是从一只猫的角度来拍的,没有对白,讲一只小流浪猫被两个朋友领养的故事。当那两个女孩把猫带回家时,猫才终于感到归属感。故事反映我自己在吉安领养我的小猫Mischka的经历,包括我自己想像它在街上流浪的情况,直到我和朋友在步行街的一个角落找到这一只饿着肚子,非常的害怕的小猫。
This is my first film in Ji’an, as well as my first film ever. As a Chinese-American in a small town like Ji’an, I look as if I could be a local, born and raised in China. Yet, I am not a local. I was raised in the US, and when I look around me here in China, everything looks fresh, new, and strange. Feral cats in the streets of Ji’an are also not an uncommon sight, but they don’t really belong anywhere either. They, too, look upon the scenes of daily life in Ji’an as a novelty. I wanted to try to capture the world from the unique perspective of one of these cats—not only from the viewpoint a creature which, like me, is somewhat of an outsider in Ji’an, but also from the perspective of a being which sees and experiences the world from the foot-level of humans.
这是我在吉安出的第一个作品,也是我自己拍的第一部片子。我是个美籍华人,所以看起来就像本地的中国人,但其实我从小是在美国长大的。对我来讲,中国的环境和生活情况,一切都对我非常的新鲜,非常的稀奇。在吉安的街上,常常能见到流浪猫,但哪里都不真正的属于它们的家。它们看着身旁的环境都是新奇的。我就是想表示出这种猫的很特殊的世界观点。它不但,像我一样,在集安算是局外人,它也是从我们人的脚底下观察着世界。

Friday, January 14, 2011

The past 5 months in China

 It's interesting that I haven't yet properly explained what exactly it is that I am doing in China to many people in my life in the US. This situation, it turns out, is not unique to me alone. During conversations with some of my friends here—volunteers and participants in IFChina projects—I've discovered that many of the JGSU students haven't really discussed their involvement in this arts and culture organization with their parents. This isn't because IFChina is embroiled in any illicit activities, or because its projects are shameful or unremarkable. If anything, the exact opposite is true. This seeming lack of transparency is simply due, for me, to the difficulty of doing justice to the organization and my experiences in China with a simple, off-handed description. For some of my Chinese friends, however, their less-than-forthcoming reports to family members of their participation is more due to their fear that their parents or older siblings would not understand at all—or worse, would outright disapprove of—their work here. But let me stop beating around the bush and attempt to explain myself.
Why I came to China
After college, I came to China to spend 10 months at IFChina Original Studio & Participatory Documentary Center, a non-profit arts and culture organization focused on the local community in the small city of Ji'an, Jiangxi Province, China. It all began when I first met Yale World Fellow and filmmaker Jian Yi from China in September 2009. In the midst of writing a year-long senior thesis on trade between Africa and China, I began discussing with him, and with Kenyan journalist and World Fellow Beatrice Mategwa, a film project that would examine the impacts of Sino-African trade on the people of both continents. I knew that I wanted to attend law school after graduation, but I also knew that I wanted to take a year between college and law school to explore new horizons and to try to better understand people, culture, and society. So, I applied for a fellowship that would allow me to ostensibly spend a year working on a film about Africa and China, while also giving me the opportunity to observe and to learn about and from the world around me.
During my interview with the Parker Huang Fellowship Committee about my project proposal, the issue of feasibility was raised. If, after I arrived in China, it became apparent that my extremely specific and ambitious project would be impractical to complete, would I have the flexibility and willingness to develop a different project? I responded yes. After all, my purpose in spending nearly a year in China working on documentary film was (and is) not merely to produce a film. The film would simply the end product of a process that I hoped would allow me to learn, grow, and understand more about myself, about China, and about globalization.
Soon after I walked onto the campus of Jinggangshan University, I realized that the Fellowship Committee had displayed uncanny prescience when they had suggested during the interview that I be ready to formulate an alternative project. While giving me a tour of the offices of IFChina, based out of JGSU, Jian Yi told me that he and Beatrice had applied for funding from the World Fellows Program to work on their China-Africa project, but that another team of Fellows had received the funds. He suggested that I spend some time integrating myself into the various projects and daily activities at IFChina while I established local relationships and explored alternative project possibilities. The Ji'an and Jingggangshan areas would be especially interesting to explore because they were considered the cradle of Mao's Communist Revolution, and were therefore of great historical and political significance. I spent the next several months doing just that.
What I'm working on now
My current project goals are twofold—first, to complete a documentary film about people who are, or wish to be, movers and shakers in the small town of Ji'an and second, to do a photo essay series about people working at various levels in legal-related professions in Ji'an. For the documentary, I have begun filming the lives of some of the university students who volunteer at IFChina, the worship services of Christians in Ji'an, and the service activities organized by the Ji'an Love Association, the only official community service group in the city. For the second project, I have had a few preliminary meetings with a local judge and a bureaucratic corruption investigator in preparation for more in-depth interviews and photographic portraits.
In the course of my stay here, I have been astounded by the varying degrees to which ideas and values which were not traditionally Chinese have become imbibed into modern Chinese society. For instance, all Chinese students are required to study English beginning in middle school, and English is tested on the college entrance exam as well as graduate school entrance exams, yet students' grasp of the English language vary from a complete lack of knowledge to chatty confidence working proficiency. He Maohua, a JGSU sophomore in the Art Department, cannot form a complete sentence beyond “My name is He Maohua,” and asked me what “dog” means in Chinese. On the other hand, Wu Hengmei, a JGSU senior studying psychology and education, can carry on an extended conversation in English and can take theatre directions in English from an American director. When asked why they study English, most students can give only the most basic and dogmatic of answers: because it is required by the educational system, and because their teachers tell them that it will be useful to them in the future. Yet, most of the twenty thousand students at JGSU will never leave Jiangxi Province, will encounter few foreigners during their four years in Ji'an beyond the handful of foreign English language teachers at JGSU, and will have few opportunities to actually use their English knowledge in their daily lives. Why, then, study English? There are English teachers at JGSU who grapple with this question themselves each day, and struggle to make English language learning both fun and useful for students. They are trying to reform the educational system beginning with their small corner of the puzzle.
The English learning conundrum is but one of many Western influences that have manifested themselves in small cities like Ji'an across China, and which have prompted people to wish to change their communities. Other phenomena include a near-obsession with the NBA and with basketball players, the deep and fervent faith of the growing number of Chinese Christians, and the popularity of US fast food chains like KFC and Pizza Hut, which have become places where young people go on dates and couples bring their children as a weekly treat—indeed, Pizza Huts in China have evolved into sit-down restaurants with waiters, menus, and tablecloths! In a related vein, Chinese entrepreneurs have cashed into the national fascination with Chinese brands and inventions which have managed to Westernize themselves—as evidenced in the rise of “California beef noodle soup,” which many a Chinese has unsuccessfully sought out during trips to California, as well as the popularity of Chinese stores which have names that sound like they could be English, such as Yishion and Semir. These are some of the topics and themes that I plan to document and explore in my film.
About IFChina
Observing the local Ji'an culture as part of an arts and culture organization has offered me an especially interesting perspective, Over the course of the past five months, while coming to better understand some of the complexities of a modernizing China, I have also become an advocate for the projects and philosophies of IFChina. A relatively young organization that was only formally established at JGSU in June 2009, IFChina originally had a very specific focus on oral histories and participatory community documentaries—not particularly surprising, given Jian Yi's background as a filmmaker. I seem to have arrived just as the Center was moving away from these early roots and expanding into other areas like theatre, public art, architecture, and direct community service.
September was an especially intense month of new experiences as it was marked by the visit of a group of Singaporean and US-American theatre directors—Mei Ann Teo, Rey Buono, and Ben Low—and mural artists—Iris Landa and Cristy Lee. They launched a documentary theatre workshop that culminated in a 40-minute theatrical production as well as a series of “Happy Rooms” mural painting projects in rural schools and schools for underprivileged children. I became a translator and stage manager for the documentary theatre performance of “This Is How We Begin,” a collection of interwoven stories based on the real-life experiences of JGSU students and older Chinese opera performers with the Chinese educational system. I spent four days painting elephants, monkeys, and whales in a two-room schoolhouse in a distant mountain village and several weeks painting other murals in local Ji'an schools. I was also happy to be able to make use of my community service experience from the Yale Hunger and Homelessness Action Project (YHHAP) in working on “A Scoop of Rice,” a new IFChina initiative that collects rice from ordinary Ji'an residents and distributes it to those in need. The program is far from a simple give-and-receive setup. An essential part of it is the bond that volunteers and beneficiaries forge over the course of many visits. Many of the beneficiary households consist of a single elderly woman who has no spouse or offspring to take care of her. The bright smiles that spread across the crags of the weathered faces of these “grannies” are truly something to look forward to each week. These are the activities that occupied most of my time during August and September. After the departure of the English-speaking party, we worked on continuing the projects that they had begun by forging community partnerships, applying for funding, and publicizing IFChina's projects and overall work.
It was only starting in December that I actually began working on my own film and photography projects. One difficulty that I initially faced was a lack of support in cultivating my own knowledge and interest on this front, since much of the organization's—and consequently my own—energies were directed toward starting up and maintaining IFChina's expanded portfolio of new projects. With the arrival of another young filmmaker from the US in December, I have begun to learn more about filmmaking than I had learned in the four months prior. My main focus for the second half of my fellowship period in China with IFChina will be on creating and producing my own work.
What I have gained so far
That is not to say that I haven't learned much during my time here; I have gained quite a lot. I have begun to understand recent Chinese history and the formation of modern cultural practices. I have witnessed the impacts of the “One Child Policy” on modern families—both those that adhere to the policy and those who do not. I have had the nuances of the Chinese educational system explained to me by those who have grown up in it, and it is demonstrated around me every day.
As the daughter of Chinese immigrants, speaking fluent Mandarin, and being a fresh college graduate, I am able to easily blend into the JGSU landscape and live like a Chinese student. Thus, I am also able to immerse myself and observe without drawing attention to myself. Bringing a camera along to film, of course, changes my status immediately, and I often feel compelled to announce my American identity when explaining why and what I am filming to strangers.
While it has been extremely rewarding for me to explore my own Chinese roots here in China, I am also often distinctly conscious of my own otherness and am grateful for the luxuries that I took for granted in the US—things like freedom of information, as manifested in things as trivial as being able to access Facebook and YouTube to major aspects like the existence of a non-state-controlled press, or the ethnic, cultural, and linguistic diversity that is so commonplace in the US. One thing that the sheer mass of humanity in China has produced is a constant obsession with securing a better life in the future—either for oneself or for one's child(ren). Thus, Chinese parents toil away in the hopes of sending their children to college or abroad, and push their children to study hard beginning in elementary school, when students often have classes in the evenings and on weekends. College students are preoccupied with passing tests to secure a civil service or cadre position or admission to a graduate program. Upon starting a family, the cycle begins anew. While I have gained from this an immense faith in and awe of the resilience of the human spirit, I have also tried to share with those around me the ability and desire to enjoy the “here and now” while it lasts, instead of always looking towards the distant future.
I hope that I will be able to incorporate elements of all of these issues and ideas into my documentary film, and I am looking forward to the second half of my fellowship term here at IFChina in Ji'an. I am extremely grateful to the Parker Huang Fellowship—and to my parents—for allowing me to spend this year of eye-opening experiences in China.
The difficulty in explaining
I hope that this rather long body of text has at least half succeeded in what it set out to do, which is to explain why I am in China, what I am doing, and where and with whom I am spending my time and energies. But, I would like to return to some of my Chinese friends who feel that they cannot talk to their parents about what they are doing at IFChina.
Liu Ran is a JGSU junior from Hubei who is a Chinese major. She has an older brother who graduated from a one-year technical school in Suzhou and now has a steady job. One thing I should have noted earlier is that JGSU is not a top-tier Chinese university. It is what the Chinese call a second-tier school, a notch above the technical schools and third-tier diploma mills that award degrees to anyone willing to pay, but far below the likes of Peking or Tsinghua Universities. The only reason that anyone outside of Jiangxi Province might have heard of JGSU is because of the famous Jinggangshan name—a choice that was no accident. But back to Liu Ran: her parents were initially opposed to her leaving her home in the north to come down to Southern China for college, but eventually relented. They often tell her that after graduation, when she finds a job and marries, it should be back in Hubei. She says that she has had an interest in theatre and acting from a young age, but her parents were always opposed to any development in this direction, prohibiting her from participating in elementary school plays or acting workshops. When she finally got an opportunity to explore this interest through IFChina's documentary theatre component with the US-American directors, she unleashed an insatiable passion. Last semester (Fall 2010), she spent more than 15 hours each week leading theatre trainings and rehearsals with other students, culminating in two successful theatre productions that drew an audience of more than 100. But, she says that she still hasn't told her parents about her theatre involvement, for fear that they will stymie her continued participation. Heading home for winter break a few days ago, she wondered whether and how she would broach the topic with her parents during her time at home, especially in light of her winter break plans to attend a series of theatre workshops in Beijing.
Then there is Minnie, an energetic sophomore studying education, with a focus on psychology. She is from Taihe, a small city less than an hour from Ji'an, and the youngest of 5 children. Her parents are uneducated peasant farmers, and they own about 6 acres of land. Each of her older siblings has already graduated from college or from graduate school, a fact that makes her family the envy of their other peasant neighbors. However, her mother is concerned with only one thing—that her children achieve financial success and stability. Being uneducated, her mother constructs most of her beliefs about the world based on the reality that is fed to her through the television set. A desire to produce theatre or art, to explore and capture culture, is something her mother considers to be worthless. Minnie feels that the only person that she can turn to for support is her older brother, who has a master's degree and is set to become a father himself in July. While her mother only talks incessantly of good grades and a good job, Minnie tries to cultivate her own interests and ideals. Her brother has told her that he will support her in anything that she chooses to apply herself to. Minnie is currently trying to secretly purchase a laptop computer—without the knowledge of her parents, and with her own money—because her mother has warned her not to get caught up in the dangers of addictive internet games and other online and computing schemes or traps. Minnie herself is well aware of the dark side of the internet, but she has also discovered the treasure trove of resources that a computer could unlock for her—including connections with other young people who share her interests and mindset and access to organizations that compile and disseminate the type of knowledge that she so hungers for—that which cannot be found in the government-controlled textbooks that are the rigid backbone of a Chinese education. If things in life don't work out as hoped, Minnie, says, at least she can go back home and eke out a subsistence by farming the land.
Yet another student is currently staring a most difficult decision straight in the eyes. Li Yihong, an associates degree student studying Chinese language education, is in his last year at JGSU. He was one of IFChina's earliest volunteers, and is now the student director of the Center's oral history projects. Having grown up in the tiny village of Xinguo in Ganzhou County, Jiangxi, he is also one of the fortunate few in his village who managed to get some sort of higher education. His older brother has even studied abroad at Manchester University in the UK. In preparation for his imminent graduation, Li Yihong's parents have arranged a stable government job for him. But, his heart's desire is to continue working on oral histories and documentary films. He is grappling with how best to discuss this with his parents, who expect him to follow the path that most young people from small villages take in China: to take up a steady job, get married, have children, and encourage them to study hard so that they, too, can achieve the stability that their grandparents so prize. The second semester of senior year at Chinese universities are generally devoid of classes, and students are expected to spend their time completing internships or beginning work at the jobs they will continue to work after graduation. Many students, instead, simply whittle the time away by playing online games or hanging out with friends. Li Yihong has spent most of his time at IFChina, writing out thoughtful workplans for the upcoming year of oral history projects and seeking out and applying for funding for these projects. He is well aware that if he can successfully obtain funding, he would be able to stay on as hired staff at IFChina and do the work that he really loves. If he is to present a persuasive alternative plan of action to the mindless but stable government job that his parents have decided on for him, he must be able to show them that he can support himself while doing the work that he prefers.
Compared to the situations that these students are in, my own endeavor to explain my work here seems astronomically simpler. I already managed to convince a fellowship committee to fund my time and experiences here, and my parents merely wonder about, but don't oppose, the activities that I choose to engage in. My friends and family, when I sporadically reach out to them to keep in touch, are also always there for me. I am truly blessed to have this kind of support.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

The First Raincheck Post

Consider this a soft opening of sorts for my blog. I've fallen far behind in my attempts to document my experiences since arriving in China on Thursday, August 5. In terms of reasons/excuses, I offer two:

First, Blogspot is blocked in China. I didn't find this out until I tried to create this blog using the unpredictable internet connection in my apartment here. Facebook is also blocked. Thank goodness for Yale's VPN connection, which I will be able to use until about October.

Second, my days have been so jam-packed here that I've had nary a moment to sit down and write.
Since there is so much to write about, and I need to head off to work in a minute, I'll simply offer a skeletal outline of my days in China thus far, with the promise that I will elaborate on the adventure in my next (few) posts.
Thu. Aug. 5 – Arrived at Shanghai's Pudong Airport on Air Canada from Los Angeles via Vancouver.
Was picked up at the airport by Fangda Xiong, my friend Lin's dad. Later that night, we hung out in downtown Shanghai.

Fri. Aug. 6 – Went to the World Expo from 10am-10pm. Shanghai by metro is very convenient.
Sat. Aug. 7 – Worked on my friend Taylour Chang's film set at the Shanghai Imagemaker Studio.

Sun. Aug. 8 – Visited Nanjing Road (a major shopping district in Shanghai), the Bund, and Shanghai's new financial district. It was Taiwanese "Father's Day" because 8-8 is ba-ba in Chinese, which sounds like father (ba-ba).

Mon. Aug. 9 – Worked on Taylour's film set again.

Tues. Aug. 10 – Took a flight from Shanghai's Hongqiao Airport on Shanghai Airlines to Jinggangshan Airport. Was picked up, along with New York-based Chinese-American filmmaker Kevin Lee, by IFCHINA founders Jian Yi and Eva Song. Conducted a group interview with a local Farmer's Theater Troupe.

Wed. Aug. 11 – Jian Yi's former English student Guan Shanwei, currently an art sociology PhD candidate in Paris, visited. Went on a brief tour of Ji'an, including to Bailuzhou Middle/High School, the oldest and most prestigious school in Ji'an, some small Ji'an neighborhoods, an old abandoned power plant, and Qingyuanshan Zen Temple.

Thu. Aug. 12 – Had meetings about each of the projects at IFChina, including Theater, Film, Documentary, Rural Architecture, Oral History, and Rice Connection.

Fri. Aug. 13 – Visited several ancient villages in rural areas near Ji'an, including Meibei, Beixia, Baiyun Shan, and the grave of an ancient Chinese scholar. Had dinner with Jian Yi's family.

Sat. Aug. 14 – Explored Ji'an a bit on foot, went to a local supermarket, cleaned the apartment all day.

Sun. Aug. 15 – Did some work, explored the local night life around the university campus.

Mon. Aug. 16 – A day at the office. We worked on the website and blog, as well as strategies for expanding the Rice Connection initiative. Explored the People's Square in Ji'an at night. It was Chinese "Valentine's Day" because it was 7-7 by the lunar calendar (chi-chi) so lots of the girls had flowers.
 
ps: If you want to find out more about why I'm in China in the first place, check out my profile section.