By Andrea Hsu
31-year old He Wang in front of words of inspiration spoken by China's leaders after the earthquake. Andrea Hsu/NPR
In our story today about Beichuan, you hear two quotes read aloud magnificently by Beichuan's new deputy chief He Wang:
I firmly believe that no hardship can conquer the heroic Chinese people! (Hu Jintao)
Raise your strong heads, stiffen your unbowed backs, ignite your ardent hearts and march forward with full confidence! (Wen Jiabao)
As you can see from the photo, the exclamation points were not our addition.
He Wang is a Tsinghua-educated architect and urban planner, who was sent by Beijing to oversee the planning of the new Beichuan. He wasn't at all what I expected when the local propaganda department sent us to meet him.
First of all, he's young - just 31 years old. Second, he agreed to the interview with no prior notice and did not ask for a prepared question list. Third, I thought he was pretty frank with us, both about the pressures the local government is facing, and about the moral complexities of developing disaster tourism in Beichuan. You'll hear more about this in a story we're working on for Wednesday.
Clearly, he's well liked in these parts. As we were standing in the lobby in front of the quotes, a young woman from the government-run Sichuan News Network ran up to him giggling, and asked if she could have a photo with him. Then, as we were having lunch, a local official stopped by to tell us what a good man he is. "He's young! Smart! Came all the way from Beijing! And so handsome! All the girls love him! But he doesn't even have a girlfriend!"
Embarrased, He Wang muttered in English, "He is kidding. Just kidding."
7:41 PM ET
|
05- 4-2009
|
permalink
by Melissa Block
A few thoughts on our report that runs on All Things Considered today about the city of Beichuan, old and new: some things you didn't hear in the radio story.
I posted earlier about the uncomfortable tension I sometimes feel here: knowing that I have to ask painful questions for these stories, and hating that I'm asking them. This was the case when I talked to the vendor you hear in today's ATC story, Mu Zhenxian.
Local vendor Mu Zhenxian lost 16 relatives in the quake. She now sells photos and DVDs of earthquake destruction on a hill overlooking the city of Beichuan. Andrea Hsu/NPR
Sixteen members of her extended family were killed in the earthquake, their bodies never recovered. Now, she sells earthquake memorabilia to tourists who come to stare out over the shattered city where the bodies of her family members are entombed.
As we talked about what had happened to her family in the earthquake, Mu was quite stoic, pointing out on an aerial photograph where her daughter and her niece were killed. But when I asked her if it bothers her that noisy tourists with snacks and cameras come by to pose for pictures in front of the wreckage, tears began to glisten in the corner of her eye. She continued to talk quietly for some time, wiping away the tears as they slid down her cheek. When she told me she felt responsible for the death of her young grandson who was in her care when the earthquake struck, her voice broke. "I should have been the one to die, " she told me. "The little boy shouldn't have to die."
"It's not your fault," I offered feebly. Small consolation indeed.
Fifteen miles south, away from the mountains, they'll soon be building the new city of Beichuan on a flat river plain. Right now there's no construction underway; they're still leveling the ground. But Beichuan officials promise that by the end of 2010, a city will have risen with homes for 30,000 earthquake survivors.
I went to the worksite with a friendly 22-year-old staffer from the county propaganda department, Wang Shoulei.
A few weeks ago, one of his colleagues from that department, 33 year old Feng Xiang, committed suicide. Feng's seven-year-old son had been killed in the earthquake. As I mentioned in my earlier post, Feng wrote a blog message on the day he hanged himself. It included these exhausted words: "I really find it too painful to be living. Please let me rest." You hear a lot about the pressures these local officials are under to speed up the pace of rebuilding.
Wang Shoulei nodded when I asked him about the stresses. "Yes, some people are experiencing a great deal of pressure, " he said. But Wang and many other officials were brought in to Beichuan from elsewhere, to replace the hundreds of Beichuan leaders who were killed in the earthquake. Wang is from Shandong province - 1,000 miles away - so he's surely not experiencing stress in the same way as someone who saw his city crushed and his colleagues die.
Just before we left, a man in a suit and tie with trendy glasses walked up. I was a little worried we were about to get kicked off the site. Instead, he greeted us with a big smile: "Welcome!," he said. Bai Hua is a builder from Shandong province in the east, sent here to rebuild Beichuan.
Bai Hua, of the Shandong Good Guy Construction Company, on the site of what will become the new city of Beichuan. Melissa Block/NPR
The name of Mr. Bai's company translates as the Shandong Good Guy Construction Company, and he seemed like a genuinely good guy. A year from now Bai told me he can envision the muddy, open field we were standing near transformed into a new city, with walkways and beautiful trees and flowers, and, he says, "people leading a happy life."
But first things first. As we left, I asked about the two sets of gigantic poles that have been erected - each maybe four stories high - facing the road. Those are for the billboards, Bai explained to us: supersized testimonials to the new Beichuan. They'll include an inspirational message from Chinese premier Wen Jiabao. Soon, those billboards will greet passers-by, trumpeting the new city that will rise to replace the ruined one.
Gigantic pillars form the structure for a super-sized billboard that will promote the new city of Beichuan. Melissa Block/NPR
1:05 PM ET
|
05- 4-2009
|
permalink
By Andrea Hsu
On today's All Things Considered, you'll hear the story of 12-year old Huang Meihua, who lost both her legs in the earthquake after her school collapsed on her. She's an incredibly spirited girl who had us all laughing, even while she was describing the earthquake. You'll have to listen to the story to know why.
Huang Meihua and her parents, father Huang Sheqing and mother Yan Xiaorong. Andrea Hsu/NPR
But there were also moments during our visit that made me want to cry. Those moments came when Meihua's parents, Huang Sheqing and Yan Xiaorong, talked about their long journey back home and their struggle to get Meihua to safety.
Yan and Huang had left their village, and their life as farmers, and were living in Heishui, some distance from Meihua - at least a day of travel under normal circumstances. They had a small shop selling mantou - steamed bread - and other snacks. With the money they earned, they rented a room for Meihua and her grandmother outside her school in the nearest town. They'd hoped a good education would lead to a brighter future for their daughter and for the family.
After the earthquake, it took Meihua's parents four days to walk home. Meihua's dad, Huang Sheqing, who seemed very quiet at first, described the entire journey with barely a pause. It was as if he'd been waiting for the right moment to let everything out. He talked of the terrifying walk over mountain roads that had been wiped out, of the aftershocks, and the huge boulders that tumbled down from above. He described passing dead bodies along the way, one of someone who'd been just ten minutes in front of them. They had news that their village had been flattened, but had no news of their daughter. Meihua's mother Yan Xiaorong told us she believed Meihua was alive. She said if she thought for a moment that her daughter wasn't alive, she couldn't have kept going.
Huang Meihua's mother shows me a photo of Meihua in the hospital, receiving a visit from Wu Bangguo, one of China's top leaders. Andrea Hsu/NPR
When they reached home they were led to a tent in the town square where Meihua had been taken after being rescued from the rubble of her school. Her father cried at the sight of her horrible injuries. Her mother cried. Meihua - according to her parents - did not cry. And she told them not to cry.
There was no transportation out of the mountains, so Meihua's parents made a makeshift stretcher out of bamboo poles. They were determined to walk her out to safety. But to do that, they'd have to climb over five mountains. People told them it'd be impossible even if they weren't carrying anything. They eventually gave up and turned back.
Finally, on May 18, six days after the quake, Meihua was flown to Chengdu by helicopter, along with others who'd been severely injured. There was no room on the helicopter for family. So Meihua's mother hiked the five mountains and slowly made her way to Chengdu. She arrived many days later, and today wonders whether she could have saved Meihua's legs had she gotten there faster.
Huang Meihua and two classmates, who were skipping an athletic competition outside to hang out with her in her room. Andrea Hsu/NPR
So much has changed for this family since the earthquake, and at the same time, so much remains the same. While Meihua's mother stays with her at her new school, her father is back in Heishui most of the time, running the shop. He just happened to be back for a visit. They still talk about her education as being their number one priority. Her sunny personality has gained her many friends at the temporary new school. Classmates come by to wheel her to class. In fact, Meihua's mother told us, it wasn't long after her legs were amputated that Meihua began cracking jokes again. She even had the hospital director laughing.
10:36 AM ET
|
05- 4-2009
|
permalink