Throughout
China there exist dirty alleys and streets lined with decrepit old
one-story houses harboring strange and amazing odors. A smorgasbord
of goods are hawked in these streets underneath the shadows of new
apartment buildings and towering Bank of China complexes: full goats,
rice and spices, candy and bicycles, condoms and magazines, phone
cards fake ones, full ones and somewhat full-ones, various SOE rejects,
produce ...
We’ve
dubbed these lanes "Funk Streets" and most expats, travelers
and teachers know of at least one that has a hot pot spot open all
night with a web bar next door. These streets are quaint, despite
the refuse and fallen timber, dust and rats. The outhouses give
us something to dodge on the rides home and the moon sometime manages
to shine through the pollution onto the slick pot-holed streets
and we sing to ourselves. We have discovered China so to speak.
The
inhabitants of Funk Streets across China could be peasants, migrants
or just broke city dwellers, but they seem happy enough as they
clack mah jiong pieces together and slurp spicy beef noodles. The
foreign passerby might even feel the word "idyllic" form
on his tongue during a night ride through a dirty smelly alley.
Students study by candle-light in the one room that houses the whole
family; today’s unsold produce is stacked against the door when
night falls; TVs mumble and throw flickering blue light through
the many cracks. Old Grandmas grab a squawking chicken and drag
it into the back courtyard.
How
simple! How beautiful!
How
could a big nose possibly think that the people who live here are
content? Are the dreams, ambitions and desires of the poor so easily
hidden? Just a little dust and grime, a little generosity on behalf
of the old women and a cheery "hello" from the shopkeeper
and a foreigner begins dreaming of his very own little shack amidst
the splendid squalor of his very own Funk Street.
Funk
Streets are disappearing under the hammer and crane of China’s modernization
drive and the only people complaining are the foreigners who miss
the old houses and winding alleys. The smiles that funky alleys
bring to our faces are mirrored in the faces of relocated peasants
and migrant workers who gladly move all four of their belongings
to the skyscraping monstrosity of an apartment complex that the
government provides for them.
In
Chongqing, thousands of people were relocated from "quaint
villages" to "modern complexes" and nobody I talked
to had a negative word to say about the move. And I was looking
for a negative response. I posed all the loaded questions I could
to get the response I was sure must be hidden amidst the folds of
delicate Chinese discourse. I left disappointed. Millions more are
being relocated in the Three Gorges Districts and only the old men
and women cry until they reach the new apartments with modern pig
pens devoid of thatch. Millions of yuan are siphoned off into the
pockets of officials throughout the affected counties and many villagers
are shipped off to dead or dying metropoli like Suining, Sichuan,
but just like the ghosts of the students haunting Tiananmen Square,
this is but a necessary sacrifice along the path toward Modernity
and Greatness.
The
losses Chinese culture and architecture have sustained due to the
Big Dam have been documented and dramatized, but the countless Qing
and Ming Dynasty doorways, windows, stone carvings and gates, foundations,
temples and random stone inscriptions that disappear with every
torn down Funk Street are rarely collected and rarely missed. In
Chengdu, a few warehouses contain a few floors with (mostly fake,
I’m told) scraps and scavengings, but most of the stone and wood
becomes fodder for the skyscrapers.
How
ironic is it that the foreigners who represent the life so many
Chinese want to lead are the only ones lamenting. Many Chinese find
it hard to fathom why a traveler will trek into the mountians, cook
bad noodles over a small fire and sleep on dirt. Trekkers to the
western provinces find peace and tranquility amongst the dirt poor
minorities, while the Tibetans, Miao, Naxi and Ge peoples’ thoughts
rest predominantly upon the chances of selling clothes or cloth
or trinkets or geographical expertise. Of course the happy peasant
exists, the man content with his rice paddy and clean air and view
of the mountains and valleys. But watch them break down and cry
in joy when their son or daughter is accepted into a school in the
city, providing chances for the whole family to grasp a piece of
the money.
We
Westerners have walked the path many Chinese long to walk. We must
find it wanting in some way, for why else would we leave en masse
for the backwaters and Funk Streets of the Third World? And the
Chinese tourist industry is beginning to feel the effects of a new
disillusioned rich eager for an escape from the rat race. Mountain
climbers are using gear instead of porters these days; skiing is
just beginning to gain popularity and what were once escape routes
from China for travelers seeking the real manifestation of what
has become cliché in the West are now clogged with middle
class Chinese seeking the same thing. Meaning? Spirituality? Simplicity?
Our own private smelly alley ...
The
race toward modernization in China is a race every one is taking
part in right now. Perhaps because Chinese really don’t know what
they’re getting themselves into. Perhaps Chinese culture is solid
enough to resist all that comes with the emergence of a content
middle class with too much leisure time.
A
year ago I taught my students as much as I could about American
counterculture. About the origins of a movement based on rejecting
"modernization" as it has developed in the West. Now,
the US has every possible counterculture imaginable has had them
long enough that every expression of rebellion is met immediately
with a debilitating storm of clichés. It's passé to
retire to the woods, to travel to Europe, to trek through the Himalayas,
to meditate with monks. We have searched high and low, uncovered
every stone in the quest for ... truth? ... that all those who follow
feel they are pretending. Travelers already know the words to say
when reaching Tibet by heart they’ve heard them time and again in
cafes and bars along the "beaten path." There’s no way
to get off of it anymore. Rebellion, exploration and the quest are
packaged up and sold on MTV, in movies, in every magazine, on the
Discovery Channel and in every expat bar across the globe.
Slowly,
I see a counterculture emerging in China. People who listen to Indian
music, drink tea out of traditional cups, rent country homes to
grow their own weed and crops. For them, this is new, this is an
expression of rebellion to that which is being created and destroyed
around them. My jaded eyes can’t help but look to the future and
glimpse tired expats spitting out clichés and muttering into
their beers.
The
pilgrimage of Western youth to the Other in search of meaning signifies
to me the beginning of the end of the reign of the "white man."
Will the course of modernization in Asia bring anything new, any
new creative thoughts, ideas or contributions to a globalized world?
If
I look at "Asiatowns" across the globe, it brings me hope
that Asian culture, instead of being swallowed by globalized capitalism,
will do what it did to the Mongols: reshape, remold. Now, "make
the world China" doesn’t seem that appealing, but the Fall
of the West from the seat of cultural dominance may hopefully herald
a period of globalization that is truly global in nature.
Now,
China reminds a foreigner of the West 100 years ago (and today):
pollution and greed, sweat and blood, inequality and corruption,
unchecked construction and demolition. But the emergence of an Asian
counterculture which laments the disappearance of Funk
Streets as much as we do, but views them from a distinctly Asian
viewpoint, as opposed to a distinctly Western one, may give hope
to expats, travelers and seekers across the globe that the realists
won’t have a free hand to control the course of globalized modernization.
-Sascha
Matuszak
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Sascha Matuszak
is a teacher living and working in China. His articles have appeared
in the South China Morning Post, the Minnesota Daily,
and elsewhere. His exclusive Antiwar.com column (usually) appears
Fridays.
Archived
columns
Lamenting
Funk Street
10/4/02
Tiananmen's
Legacy: The Forgotten Rebellion
9/21/02
Deciphering
the Chinese Smile
9/13/02
Why
China Can Disregard US Anger
9/7/02
Arming
the World: What the US Fears
8/30/02
What
Taiwanese Fear
8/23/02
What
Military Might?
7/26/02
Protection
7/10/02
Ties
That Bind
6/21/02
Tight
Spot
6/6/02
Fake
Friendships
3/28/02
1.3
Billion Problems For China
3/8/02
China's
New Post-9/11 Status
2/21/02
Soybeans
2/1/02
Patriotism
1/25/02
Room for Growth
1/19/02
No Peacemaker
1/11/02
Back in the USA
1/4/02
Missing the Boat?
12/14/01
Sweep 'Em Off the Streets
12/7/01
Chinese Embrace Progress
11/30/01
Risk
and Promise
11/9/01
Standing
Aloof?
11/5/01
China's
Afghan Agenda
10/26/01
New
War May Reveal New Superpower, Part II
10/9/01
New
War May Reveal New Superpower
10/3/01
A
Chance for a New Friendship?
9/25/01
Watching
the Disaster
9/18/01
Cheating
as a Way of Life
9/11/01
China's
Internet Generation
9/4/01
China's
Expansionism
8/28/01
Free
Markets or Supermarkets
8/14/01
Trailblazing
8/7/01
Too
Much Face
7/27/01
Olympic
Pie
7/19/01
Culture
of Pollution
7/10/01
Sailing
Towards World Significance
7/3/01
China's
Youth Revolution
6/19/01
China
on the Road to Capitalism
6/5/01
An
American in China
5/15/01
On
the Street in China: A Report
4/13/01
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