A Wuhan Wander
A 45-foot long centipede thrashes in the air over a toddler’s head. Its bright red mandibles descend, about to encase the boy. He shrieks as he watches the gargantuan insect, the size of a dragon, come closer inch by inch, hundred legs flapping as its body writhes like a snake in the wind.
The old gentleman gives the string a pull, and the head of the kite suddenly soars upward, and its body quickly follows. The boy shrieks again in delight and jumps up to touch the feathered legs, but the centipede has already risen too high for him.
As the kitehandler pulls the string taut and lets it loose on his reel, the giant insect twists and dances in the sky. There are other kites, higher, and unmoving high up above; an eagle, a fish, an airplane. It seems as if the centipede is slithering about, about to make a meal out of these smaller creatures.
The handler lets the centipede flutter down to the ground so that I can have a closer look. Its body structure is made of bamboo skewers, the kind that usually hold chunks of lamb sizzling over a street vendor’s coal barbecue. Its body segments hoops with plastic shopping bags pulled taut over them to meet wind resistance. Its head is the same, a red sheet of plastic bag with black beady eyes painted onto it. Chicken feathers are glued onto the ends of the skewers for feet. The body elegantly tapers into a tail. It is a masterpiece of DIY upcycling that took this man 3 months to bring to life.
***
The city of Wuhan is built upon the banks of the Yangtze river, whose tributaries split the city into three districts. Standing on one stretch of those banks now, I try to imagine just how big this city is, how long this river is, how huge this country is. It is a moment that feels like it should feel significant. And yet it, like many moments that have come and gone since I touched down in China, felt quite the opposite. Like there couldn’t be anything more ordinary. Though it has been over twenty years since this country has been my home, there are things everyday which remind me how familiar it is. The candied hawthorn fruits, piled one on top of each other on a skewer, sold by ambulating vendors at street markets. The throngs of people in the streets, subway, buses. The mothers aiming their babies dressed in bottomless one-piece jumpsuits at garbage bins while they shoot streams of pee into them.
***
I have set out on my own to have a subway adventure. The closest station is a 30 minute bus ride away, and the end of the line for one of the five or six tracks that connect the districts of Wuhan. This gives you an idea of how far the Maple Leaf campus is from the city centre. It’s a bit like living in Pointe Claire in Montreal. The stations are new and trains arrive on tracks that very much resemble shuttle trains at a large airport. Double glass doors, wide platforms, illuminated signs indicating the time to the next train. A leap ahead of the rattly Montreal metros.
There is a behaviour here which I have seen before in subways in India – I call it the Impatient Water syndrome. The impatient water wants nothing more than to get inside the bottle. Doesn’t matter if there is already a full bottle of water wanting to get out. The impatient water will start shoving his way in the instant the double doors open, against the flow of people trying to get out, thus making it that much harder for himself to get in. And if one person exhibits this logic-defying behaviour, then everyone does the same, because they just might not be getting the same chance at getting in if they don’t shove.
Another phenomenon which I constantly need to remind myself to not get upset about is the different perception of the point of a queue. More times than I can count so far, has someone simply stepped in front of me in a line; or snaked their hand in front of mine to put their vegetables on the scale before me; or shoved me out of the way of a cab that I’ve flagged down. There seems to be an attitude of ‘I’ll do it until someone stops me, and then I’ll still do it.’ No remorse, no apologies, not even a backwards look to see if anyone noticed. Just doing it like there was nothing the matter with bumping yourself ahead of someone else who was there first.
My theory is that massive populations make assholes out of us. If you don’t do something to get yourself ahead, then you’re going to lose out. Even at the grocery store. Even while going to the bathroom. That if you can put yourself in front for anything, then you should, because there might not be enough to go around. Forget politeness. Forget respecting order. Do what you gotta do.
And what better manifestation of this than in academics? The issue of cheating on homework and tests has been a regular one. In a setting where the concept of plagiarism has never been broached, students find no issue with copying word for word work that their classmates have done. Sometimes even copying word for word something the teacher has given them as an example, and calling it their own work.
One of the perspectives is: My classmate is so much better at this than I am, so I will better myself if I copy them. If I memorize what they have produced, then it is as if I have produced it. And with the skill that Chinese students have of committing things to memory, it’s kind of true. When we learn a new language, do we not first have to memorize its basic rules? And then do we not first memorize some standard phrases to use in conversation? And once we progress beyond basic conversation do we not memorize some stock questions and responses in order to sound more natural?
Trying to explain what constitutes cheating, and enforcing rules for cheating is like trying to teach a kid to walk differently from the way he’s always done it.