I love China. More than ever.

Here is another story from the vaults.  I’m sure many of you have read it before, but I’ve edited it a bit and I think it’s worth reposting.

As most of you know, I spent a large part of 2008 at Nanjing University studying Chinese.  2008 was an interesting (to say the least) year to be in China.  In the run-up to the Beijing Olympics, nationalist fervor collided with racial tensions and latent anti-government sentiments.  In response to the Tibetan protests, the Chinese government blocked websites and monitored text messages mentioning anything about Tibet, the protests, or the Dali Lama (whom many Chinese regard as a dangerous radical).   The Western press was blamed (at least in part) for fomenting unrest, and Chinese coverage of Western treatment of the events got more air time than news about the events themselves.

When the Olympic torch relay drew protests in Western cities, most of the Chinese people I knew seemed heartbroken.  Watching the CCTV (government television) coverage of demonstrations that accompanied the torch in San Francisco, my Chinese roommate tearfully asked me why Americans hate the Chinese.

Then there was the earthquake in Sichuan.  Immediately after the quake, every Chinese person I knew was glued to their television, watching hours of horrifying footage of collapsed schools, orphaned children, and distraught parents.  Most people seemed to know at least one person in the Chungdu area, and because cell towers went down, no news really got out for the first few hours.  I think, for many Chinese, the quake experience was comparable to what a lot of Americans felt immediately after September 11.   So by the time the torch actually made it into China, the Olympics had, understandably, become the focus of a lot of emotion.

Here is my story about the torch’s stop in Nanjing.

I love China. More than Ever.

Two days before the Olympic torch came to Nanjing, the whole country observed three days of mourning for victims of the Sichuan earthquake.  Theaters, bars, and karaoke clubs were closed.   The internet was even more restricted, which meant no downloading movies, TV, or music.  “Nothing fun” one teacher told us.

On the eve of the torch’s arrival, my roommate and I walked down to Hankou Lu where venders had lined the street with red and white pro-China t-shirts.  I wanted the one with a picture of two gray fists that looked like stones, raised in front of a red Chinese flag in the shape of China.  Either that, or the one that said, “I Love China.  More than ever.”  But I couldn’t find those in my size.  In the end Yan Yan and I bought matching t-shirts that said “I love China,” only the “love” was really a Chinese flag in the shape of a heart.

The next day we headed out of campus and down to the street where we joined what I seriously think was every other person in the city.  Our procession was led by two students waving a big Chinese flag high in the air, but we each had our own little flag too.  As we marched out of the school gate, we merged with a sea of red and white: white t-shirts with red letters, red Chinese flags, and white “Beijing 2008” flags with the Olympic rings and the dancing Beijing symbol of the 2008 games.

As a foreigner and outsider, I was not heavily invested in the Beijing Olympics and everything they had come to represent.  But there in the moment, I couldn’t help getting swept up by the excitement.  I felt like I was part of something bigger than myself; something that connected me to everyone else there that day.

We stood on the curb for three hours shouting, “Ao Yun, jia you!  Nanjing, jia you!  ZHONG GUO, JIA YOU!” (Let’s go Olympics!  Let’s go Nanjing!  LET’S GO CHINA!).  When the torch finally made its way past the university, I had to stand on my tip-toes and hold my camera up over my head to get a picture.  I never really saw the actual torch; and neither, I suspect, did a lot of people.  But from my spot on the sidewalk I could see the crowd across the street with their hands in the air, waving their little flags together, like a whole sea of flame.