Day: November 10, 2004

the ageless cry

from the separate soothing darkness of my computer cave, i can hear students shouting outside.

we live very near one of the university campuses and every now and then there is a rally. sometimes for better food in the cafeteria, other times for freedom of the falun gong in china. tonight the debate is freedom of speech in the mainland.

the rally has been going on for a while now, and the students are excited. the blare of the megaphone is blurred by the roars of the students, pledging their time and commitment to this cause.

i love listening to this emotion. this passion.

remember the tiananmen square massacre? the 1997 memorial, the first one i attended, was filled with trepidation. hong kong was about to be handed over to the chinese. would we ever be allowed to have this memorial again? no one knew. dissidents from china were apprehensive, knowing it was possibly dangerous for them to be at the gathering, yet unwilling to stop fighting for democracy. no matter the cost.

paranoia clung to all of us that night. i knelt down to light a candle, and immediately a policeman approached me. apparently it was legal to light the candle, but illegal to let the wax drip on the pavement. someone passed me some aluminium foil and i solved the problem by letting the foil catch the wax.

a small group gathered. someone took my picture. was it the press? or was it someone representing another, more powerful, more ominious group? probably paranoid, but i say that in hindsight. although we knew there were some chinese reps there, the crowds, safe in numbers and darkness, were singing, chanting, swaying and screaming. willing to fight for freedom. anonymous yells spurred speakers on to longer speeches, those who attended and survived the 1989 massacre were greeted with hysterical screams. 

there were pictures. pictures of those who had died, pictures of those who werent seen after the massacre, young men and women whose families desperately hope are living elsewhere, happily, and free, and not staying in touch for fear of bringing danger upon the family.

and of course, the picture of the tank, steaming heated metal stopped with the defiance of one man and his beliefs.

what could we not change if we all believed as completely as this man did!

and when daylight returned, the megaphone was turned off, the pictures were removed and the candles were plucked from the ground, and we all returned to our jobs and the avaricious world of hong kong.

but something remained from that night. the 1997 memorial saw the unveiling of the PILLAR OF SHAME, a sculpted statue made in commemmoration of the massacre. the pillar features torsos and faces, exquisitely detailed, faces caught in agony and horror. it is an overwhelming piece of art to look at. not pleasant, but humbling. shaming.

after the event, the pillar was not allowed to remain in the park. beijing apparently did not want it, and so the question was, where would it go? with the handover weeks away, where could this statue that openly disapproved of beijing’s handling of the massacre be put? this was a huge trouble. anyone who housed it was implying disapproval of the motherland. not a great way to begin a reunion.

in a bold step, a step that resounded with rightness, hong kong university took the statue. and placed it in an outdoor common area. where everyday students can look at it, and remember other students. who died for a dream. the students involved in the 1989 massacre didn’t handle themselves perfectly, but their hearts were pure, their dream was right, their idealism was admirable.

so students posting up flyers to round up attendees can look at the pillar and say to themselves… i’m doing my bit to change what i believe needs to be changed…and other students, walking to and fro classes can look and know they are lucky, to be 21 and alive, with their dreams ahead of them.

at the bottom of the pillar of the shame is written a very inspiring yet thought provoking statement:

the old cannot kill the young forever.

what an incredible statement. IT IS TRUE.

but then you remember, the ones who killed were once young themselves. what happened to their youth? to their commitment to improving the world?

so youths yelling tonight, be passionate. and idealistic. this is your time. make it count.

and the rest of us, with commitments, mortages, families, remember that youth is a state of mind. support what you believe in…whether it be the fight against breast cancer, or bicycle helmet laws.

THE OLD CANNOT KILL THE YOUNG FOREVER.

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this website shows a picture of the pillar of shame…..

www.trcasia.com/hk/

i held a month old baby today.

she is sweet, soft and pliant, with a floppy head and eyes that can only muster together the energy to focus every hour or so. she only weighs 8 pounds; the scales at the queen mary are obviously are wrong, as my children were never that small. impossible. they must have weighed more than 1000g, 910g and 780g. because they were never as small as this eight pound, fluffy, wobbly, sweet baby. ooooooooooooohhhhh, i want another baby.

ha ha. no i don’t.

but i like holding other people’s babies. if anything, it reminds me of how quickly time passes and that to try to remember, and even appreciate these days.

they were weighed today, my little babeolas, at their hospital checkup. although sela drew a circle of admirers, and blinked at them all, it was jasper who really held court. he gurgled when i took off his nappy and grinned when his starkers body was placed on the scale. looked concerned when they held his head and pulled on his legs to get his correct length (68cm). chatted and wheezed his way through the doctors exam. grinned and grinned as he tried to pull her stethoscope into his wide, curving mouth. wow! he was so ADORABLE. under those unflattering hospital lights, too!!!

how come after a sleepless night i am haggard and cranky looking, while jasper, who apparently, by way of his age, can be sick and sleepless and still look wrinkle free and adorable, in his fire engine onesie, dungarees and robeez shoes? no no no no fair.

"fair to bad" is how the doctor described his lungs. he was given a refill of the drugs meant to open his lungs, and clear them of fluid. here’s to hoping it works.

i don’t hold out much hope, it is midnight here and i am typing with the winsome bald monster on my lap. he isn’t whinging, just sort of wailing. the book of lamentations, by jasper caldwell sort of thing. and dramatically, painfully intaking his breath. if you watch his onesie encased chest when he inhales, the little line of pale blue cars right under his boobies disappears, only to re-emerge when he exhales. at this late hour, it is almost hypnotic.

jasper, the true chivalrous male, let his sisters be examined by the doctor first today. he was pretty anxious to be fed by the time i exited the hospital and ran the stroller home.

((tentative) wahhhhhhhhhhh…i hope they don’t forget to feed me…..(tentative) wahhhhhh, i wonder if they forgot that i like my food in the green bowl…or even at all...)

sorry this is more of a captain’s log and an interesting blog…it was actually a good, albeit tiring day.

magnificent charles, i am fine, but we ALL miss you. tomorrow i might write an update on sebastian, he is tres amusing these days. xo