Yee Fong’s Blog

1.20 am. Zzzzz.

Mobile phone rang.

“Hello…”

“Hi, this is the Media Centre. You may come and collect your media pass now.”

“Wot…? You mean you are calling from the Mei Di Ya News Centre, the media centre for the National Day Parade?”

“Yes, at Mei Di Ya. Please come now or you may not make it in time for the parade,” said Polite Staff.

“But how am I supposed to get there with the traffic restrictions?” I was still coming to my senses.

“You’ll just have to find your way here. Please come fast, or it will be too late.”

I sprang out of bed, and looked at the time again. No kidding, it’s 1.25 am.

Called the apartment receptionist to help flag down a cab, even as I was putting on my pants. Would there even be a wheel in sight?

“Sorry, Ma’am, but our walkie-talkies have been taken away as we were told they may interfere with the communication channels of the parade later on….”

“That’s ok, I’ll run out and find one. Thanks.”

Empty streets all round. Think, think, think…

And then… a moving light! Dashed 80 meters to the cab.

“Please take me to the Mei Di Ya Centre near the old CCTV building.”

“The main route’s been blocked, I’ll have to make a detour,” said Seasoned Cabbie.

“A detour, it is!” Stay positive!

“And I’ll have to make a petrol stop first.”

“……”

2.00 am. I arrived at the Media Centre, disheveled.

“Here’s your pass, Ma’am. The bus will leave at 4 am, you can take a seat at the the holding area and wait for the bus.” Polite Staff handed me an envelop containing my press passes.

“What about my cameraman?”

“I’m sorry, but the list was computer-generated and your name was selected. You’ll just have to get someone to send you your equipment.”

Bearing in mind the traffic restrictions imposed since the evening before and the logistics involved, that’s as good as a no-go for us.

Here I was, clutching the passes that I’ve been waiting for over the past few weeks, acquiesced to the only option viable.

Headed back out.  At least Seasoned Cabbie was still waiting.

3 am. Zzzzz.

The title reads like a Hollywood blockbuster, and the insights could yet shed new light on the concept of Freakonomics.

Welcome to the intriguing life of Zhao Ziyang, former Chinese premier who was put under house arrest for refusing to impose martial law on the Tiananmen protestors 20 years ago.

Today, he’s almost erased from China’s version of its modern history, but he left behind his voice and an invaluable legacy in the form of print.

“Prisoner of the State – The Secret Journal of Zhao Ziyang” is a collection of Zhao’s secret voice journals, recorded even as he was hidden from the public eye by his comrades-turned-captors from 1989 till his death in 2005.

The authors of the book dedicated the first few chapters to his recount of the dramatic incident that claimed thousands of young civilians, which also ended the career of arguably one of the most progressive minds in Chinese politics.

But beyond the chronicles of the two-month saga, one finds a highly personal and, at times, winsome account of the trials and tribulations of a leader trying to set China free of rigidity as he struggled to steer the country towards modernity.

Oftentimes, Zhao’s accounts read like blog entries of an excited freshman embarking on his first solo mission.

In one chapter, he recounted his first overseas trip that would inspire him to push forward China’s reforms through gradual liberalization.

He observed how France spawned a flourishing wine industry by growing grapes that were suited to its dry climate; and how Greece became a major olive exporter, by the same token.

He concluded that China had to free itself from autarky – a single-minded pursuit of self-sufficiency, if it were to make any headway.

“According to our past way of thinking,” he mused, “in order to plant crops, we would ‘change the conditions defined by heaven and earth’ by creating huge irrigation projects.

“The result of doing everything ourselves was that we were not doing what we did best. We suffered tremendous losses because of this. I now realise more and more that if a nation is closed, not integrated into the international market, or does not take advantage of the international trade, then it will fall behind and modernization will be impossible.”

What ensued from that trip was the implementation of an open-door policy that allowed Shandong Province to plant cotton, instead of poor-yielding grains. The farmers’ income improved as they traded their yields for grains from the state.

But the most touching revelation is perhaps his relationship with Deng Xiaoping, which soured following a spate of political wrangling with opposing factions in the Communist Party.

“I only want Deng to know that…I am not a man who would sacrifice others to protect myself in times of crisis. I believe with such an understanding of the situation, he would feel better. I am very unwilling to see him leave his world with this misconception. Yet I know the chances of his understanding this are very, very slim.”

His run-ins with the state and security in asserting his rights to travel, even play golf, whilst under house arrest were sometimes humorous, albeit poignant. It was a frustration that many of us living in China can empathize with.

But he never stopped fighting.

In bureaucratic Beijing, covering official lines can be at times mundane and predictable. But once in a while, we do get refreshing perspectives from interview subjects who dare to deviate from the status quo.

Many Chinese have a somewhat love-hate relationship with CCTV – they distrust its regular dose of communist propaganda, yet rely on its supply of information.

Then, there are others who seek inspiration from the omnipresent outfit.

Meet Shi Mengqi, or better known as Lao Meng (Old Meng).

This was a guy who single-handedly put together his own Spring Festival show to emulate China’s national broadcaster CCTV’s flagship programme.

It was a controversial move with the promise of romanticism that paralleled the tale of David vs the Goliath.

Here was a laobaixing with little resources but who wanted to produce a show that likened itself to the glitzy fanfare that featured hi-tech backdrops, glamorous costumes and big names like Jay Chou and Jacky Chan.

His performers consisted of aspiring singers, aspiring actors, and aspiring dancers eager to showcase their talents to a wider audience.  Never mind that some of them sang out of tune, danced out of sync and less than dramatic in the skits.

Unfortunately for Lao Meng and his team, his production didn’t get to see the light of day on the Chinese mainland, as major portals which have agreed to telecast his show pulled out one by one.

In the end, it was telecast in Macau and some bits were featured on the story I did of him.

“There was a force pressuring them not to work with me,” Lao Meng told me in the interview. “I can’t say for sure where the force came from, but it was there.”

Despite the setback, he’s determined to make a comeback. He now a handful of artistes under his belt, waiting for their moment.

“I’m not afraid, as I have nothing to lose,” he proclaimed.  “I haven’t done anything illegal and I believe in China’s legal system. The society is always progressing.”

Well, let’s wait and see.

Chinese people love to volunteer, or so it seems from recent events in the country. I would say volunteerism reached its peak in China during the Beijing Olympics — 100,000 volunteers — including a good number of the best and brightest from Beijing’s most prestigious universities, participated with the aim of making 60,000 foreign guests feel warm and fuzzy in the communist state.

Flashbacks of my dad writhing in pain from kidney stones in the middle of the night appeared before me as I punched out yet another story of a food scandal in China.

That happened when I was barely 3. Yet, the image was etched in my mind because his agony was so intense. I watched as my mom frantically called the ambulance as she covered my dad with blankets, helplessly.

So imagine the shivers I got at the thought of babies having kidney stones. They have barely learned to smile at their parents even as they experience pain that is unbearable even for adults. Some ignorant grown-ups actually thought that adding toxic industrial substances to food is okay, as long as nobody gets killed.

Well, these adults killed four, and thousands of infants have become unfortunate guinea pigs to test the effects of melamine on humans.

Experiments have shown that melamine can cause renal stones and damage to the reproductive systems of small animals.

Thanks to the protein-cheats, now we know that it hurts human babies, too.

I put my faith in local-brand yoghurt shortly after I moved to Beijing as the French brand that I was accustomed to isn’t easily available. But that faith dissipated as fast as the CGI fireworks footprints that so impressed the world at the Beijing Olympics Opening Ceremony, when news of the scandal broke.

Has China’s pace of development moved so fast that money chasers have lost sight of ethics?

To millions of villagers, the milk business is literally a cash cow that can pull them out of poverty.

One could earn 10,000 yuan per month just by centralizing the process of milking and distribution.

Stories of crop farmers turning into cow rearers are aplenty.

Today, close to 70 percent of milk supply in China comes from village-based milk stations that collect raw milk from different farmers. These stations make money from offering facilities for milking and then distributing the milk to dairy companies.

Given the scale and the seeming laisser faire nature of the industry, there appears to be a lack of quality control on milk, even on cows. That’s when greed rears its ugly head and takes over.

It doesn’t help that local officials condoned questionable practices by sitting on the issue, hoping it would go away.

If they had studied China’s recent spate of scandals – from the SARS cover-up, poisoned pet food to lead-tainted toys, they might have anticipated the backlash. Or perhaps they were willing to gamble as the stakes were too…low?

“Greater good” aside, do they ever look squarely at themselves and ask what really matters?

All that the parents wanted was to offer the best for their children.

But the system has let them down.

Watching the Singapore flag raised in the prestigious Olympics hall for the much-anticipated table tennis match brought a tear to my eye.

It was one thing watching any Chinese team play against other teams in an Olympic venue – the cheering and support is overpowering; but rooting for your own country competing for the most coveted title in the sports arena is a whole new experience for me.

I never thought I would witness a Singapore team standing on the medal stand in my lifetime.

The romance of Singapore’s first Olympic medalist Tan Howe Liang with weightlifting remained as one of the most inspiring Olympics stories to date.

His story happened before I was born, so I never imagined the ability of an Olympic medal to elicit patriotism was so strong.

At the Singapore Embassy on the fateful – and a very much historic Sunday night, I’m convinced that Singaporeans can bring the house down. They came in red and white national colours, they waved flags and they roared.

More than 100 of us gathered at Singapore’s diplomatic grounds in Beijing to watch the table tennis finals ‘live’.

Being miles away from the actual venue did not stop hot-blooded Singapore patriots from yelling at the top of their lungs at the projection screen.

The younger ones chanted till their faces turned red, while the uncles and aunties hopped around in a rare display of animated youthfulness.

The cheers came in a combination of Mandarin, English, Hokkien, Malay in the most creative composition that only the Singlish-proficient could understand (Can someone please provide a list of these multi-lingual cheers?).

But hey, it’s far more interesting than the straight-laced Zhong Guo jia you! or Go, China! – probably the second most played out chant to the Chinese national anthem…

Never mind that Singapore missed the gold medal; a silver medal isn’t bad at all. As Consular Tang Weng Chau said to me after the telecast, everyone’s a champion that evening.

The media marathon in the run-up to the Beijing Olympics can be trying, and at times, exasperating. But it also brings out the most curious response from all of us who were, and still are, engulfed by Olympics hysteria…

Overheard at a press conference…

“I would like to know where that picture was taken. I’ve never seen a sky like this in Beijing,” said Righteous Journalist, referring to a huge picture of Beijing’s Bird Nest against a clear blue sky.

“March 2008,” said NGO spokesperson.

#####

Overheard at the entrance at a former diplomatic compound converted to a high-end wine and dine establishment…

“Where are you going?” said a Very Young Looking Guard.

“To the restaurant,” said First-Time Visitor.

“Which one?” persisted the Very Young Looking Guard.

“Erm, I’m not sure. I was only given the address. How many restaurants are there in the compound?”

“One,” said Very Young Looking Guard.

#####

Overheard the morning after Beijing’s spectacular Olympics Opening Ceremony….

“My, how can Singapore beat that for its Youth Olympics Games Opening Ceremony?” said Concerned Singaporean.

“Well, we may have to borrow labour from our neighbours like Batam and Malaysia, maybe even the Philippines,” said Cynical Singaporean.

#####

Overheard the morning after Beijing’s spectacular Olympics Opening Ceremony again…

“My, how can Singapore beat that for its Youth Olympics Games Opening Ceremony?”

“Instead of the drawing scroll, we shall have a giant murtabak, complete with minced meat, onions and sardines…” offered Singaporean food-junkie.

“How about you borrow Zhang Yimou from China?” offered cheeky Chinese.

If there was one thing that the Beijing laobaixing might have learnt from the whole Olympics fanfare, it would be the Human Wave (or Mexican Wave to the Mexicans; or the Kallang wave to Singaporeans…), and the fun of letting their hair down cheering for players on the courts.

I had a blast attending one of the preliminary rounds of volleyball in the first week of the Olympics, and it was not because of the matches.

It began with a brainwashing exercise as I got past the security check into the venue.

At least three student volunteers, just steps apart from each other, exclaimed to me in an overwhelming earnestness to “enjoy the games!” as I strolled towards the gymnasium.

Their enthusiasm was endearing but I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed to have my arrival announced to hordes of other strangers streaming in, who also got their fair share of embarrassment…

But hey, I’m all for the festive spirit and yeah, I would “enjoy the games!”

As the preliminary match went into full-swing, volunteers tried to rouse the crowd by urging spectators to do the human wave, rather coyly.

Among the spectators were a good number of residents in the neighbourhood let in by the organizers to fill the seats.

They consisted mainly of middle-to-old aged men and women dressed in their home-casuals, armed with paper fans, who sauntered into the venue in their slippers.

“Erm…Let’s do the human wave at the next time-out, ok? ” a volunteer said to his bemused audience politely.

The human wave was predictably subdued as it was a new activity to the grandpas and grandmas, who had no clue about what it was.

The volunteers didn’t know better, either, as they watched the wave dissipate, instead of keeping the momentum going.

If anything, the competitive mood was kept alive by the Polish contingent, who showed up with flags, banners and painted faces.

“Go, Egypt!!!!” a lone supporter of the Egyptian team yelled all of sudden.

He was, of course, quickly drowned out by the Polish collective.

I decided to rally the moms and pops to root for the underdog.

“Come on, this guy has no supporters!” I stood up, turned around, and said to moms and pops.

It was awkward as they stared at me like I had two heads on my neck, while the lone laowai continued to stretch his vocals.

But before long, the neighbourhood squad, who were at first tickled by the lone enthusiasm of the laowai, began to chant with him.

At one point, a frail old man even turned to me and initiated a chant, beating his pair of cheer sticks for effect.

Never mind that the Polish anthems were overpowering and their cheers were tight…we had the Chinese on our side!

As journalists, we are often caught up with capturing the moment of action. We get a kick out of freezing the most candid/emotional/telling/embarrassing expressions of our subjects. Rarely do we realize how WE ourselves may look through the lens of others.

Mr Chia Hui Yong of Mercy Relief, who kindly gave us a ride to difficult zone areas during the Sichuan earthquake, had, even more kindly, captured us in action during those intense times. I received them recently, after Hui Yong returned from his relief work from China.

They are priceless.

Thanks, Hui Yong!