Jassy Melson
10-22-2010, 02:28 PM
He is going to study classical Chinese literature.
He is so excited that all he can do is sit tight,
coiled like a spring in his seat, his lips white.
In Beijing he is housed in a dorm
with other Americans and two Chinese who say
they are students waiting to go to America.
They seem old to be students.
He takes the short regular tour of Beijing
prepared by Chinese officials,
and then he gets down to work.
He studies diligently, perspiring
over ancient Chinese poets whose names
all seem related. He prides himself
on knowing a dozen dialects.
He studies Chinese history as a sideline
and is secretly appalled but outwardly he spouts
a line that dozens of other exchange students have spouted:
“Oh, Chinese history is so colorful, so filled
with events that the West knows nothing about.”
In his study of Chinese poetry he becomes
so enamored that he makes the statement “Nothing
in the West can compare with this. The West
is ignorant of the glory of Chinese poetry.”
He grows determined that when he returns to America
he will spread the message of the greatness
of the poetry of old Cathay; and in the bargain
show the weakness and impotence of Western poetry.
While in China he sees nothing but what officials
want him to see. He doesn't see the forced labor camps,
he doesn't see the reeducation camps, he doesn't see
the poverty of ninety percent of the people,
he doesn't see the peasants toiling their life away
while the fat officials live lives of luxury.
He doesn't see a country enslaved. All he sees
are what certain ones want him to see.
But he doesn't want to see anyway.
All he's interested in is ancient and classical
Chinese literature. All he's interested in
is the superiority of Chinese literature
over the contemporary West.
All he cares about is going back to America
and extolling the greatness of Chinese literature.
But if you asked him about Chun Lee
he would scratch his head and ask “Who is he?”
For his information Chun Lee has been sentenced
to twenty years of hard labor for espousing
certain anti-communistic and Western ideas.
But even if he knew, the exchange student would shrug
and go on reading Chinese literature, his only reply being
“Politics is not my concern. I am only concerned
with the superiority of Chinese literature
over the West.” And when he gets back to America
he will show them; he will teach them; he will enlighten them.
He furrows his brow and goes on reading.
He is so excited that all he can do is sit tight,
coiled like a spring in his seat, his lips white.
In Beijing he is housed in a dorm
with other Americans and two Chinese who say
they are students waiting to go to America.
They seem old to be students.
He takes the short regular tour of Beijing
prepared by Chinese officials,
and then he gets down to work.
He studies diligently, perspiring
over ancient Chinese poets whose names
all seem related. He prides himself
on knowing a dozen dialects.
He studies Chinese history as a sideline
and is secretly appalled but outwardly he spouts
a line that dozens of other exchange students have spouted:
“Oh, Chinese history is so colorful, so filled
with events that the West knows nothing about.”
In his study of Chinese poetry he becomes
so enamored that he makes the statement “Nothing
in the West can compare with this. The West
is ignorant of the glory of Chinese poetry.”
He grows determined that when he returns to America
he will spread the message of the greatness
of the poetry of old Cathay; and in the bargain
show the weakness and impotence of Western poetry.
While in China he sees nothing but what officials
want him to see. He doesn't see the forced labor camps,
he doesn't see the reeducation camps, he doesn't see
the poverty of ninety percent of the people,
he doesn't see the peasants toiling their life away
while the fat officials live lives of luxury.
He doesn't see a country enslaved. All he sees
are what certain ones want him to see.
But he doesn't want to see anyway.
All he's interested in is ancient and classical
Chinese literature. All he's interested in
is the superiority of Chinese literature
over the contemporary West.
All he cares about is going back to America
and extolling the greatness of Chinese literature.
But if you asked him about Chun Lee
he would scratch his head and ask “Who is he?”
For his information Chun Lee has been sentenced
to twenty years of hard labor for espousing
certain anti-communistic and Western ideas.
But even if he knew, the exchange student would shrug
and go on reading Chinese literature, his only reply being
“Politics is not my concern. I am only concerned
with the superiority of Chinese literature
over the West.” And when he gets back to America
he will show them; he will teach them; he will enlighten them.
He furrows his brow and goes on reading.