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Webfiles: From Our Correspondent:
Drive, She Said
Lessons
from Beijing, learned at street level
By CRYSTYL MO
Tuesday, May 15, 2001
Web posted at 01:20 p.m. Hong Kong time, 01:20 a.m. GMT
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As a student in China
for many years, some of my best lessons have come not in the
classroom but on the road in a dirty, cramped cab with a straight-speaking
Beijing cab driver. Conversations with them have enlightened
me not only about political issues but also about culture,
society and, of course, cuisine. Now, as a journalist, I see
why so many of my colleagues rely upon a reporting method
- "ask a cabbie" - that I learned while still at school.
One often hears about the censorship of the Chinese press
and the suppression of free expression in China. Many newspapers
simply blare the party line, television and radio are tightly
controlled and some people will not speak their criticism
openly, even in private conversations. To put one's finger
on the pulse of the real society, learn the true opinions
of the masses and plumb the real spirit of the Chinese people,
step to the curb of virtually any street and wave your hand.
Soon enough you will hear the squealing of brakes as one of
the city's 65,000 taxis honks its way through the river of
bicyclists to get to you. Nine times out of ten, you have
just made an acquaintance who is willing to tell you everything
you wanted to know about Beijing's backward policies, choking
pollution, horrendous traffic, current events and much, much
more.
Of course, not all cab drivers in Beijing are the same. But
they do have some things in common. If you look foreign and
you tell them your destination in Chinese - even if it's only
one barely intelligible word - the driver's first comment
will be "Your Chinese is very good!" In 1995, the best I could
come up with in reply was "Thank you" - one of the few phrases
available to me. By 1998 my Chinese abilities had been whipped
into such shape that I could reply in full sentences, sometimes
even with a bit of humor or sarcasm. Now I might reply, "I
say one word and you can already tell my Chinese is good?"
Usually that gets a chuckle, but without further ado he will
launch into his usual set of questions for foreigners. Where
are you from? Do you like China? Are you used to eating Chinese
food? And the inevitable: How much money do you earn?
Once these little formalities are done with, you are free
to ask any question you may have. Even the most sensitive
topic is kosher when within the confines of the cab. You have
entered a sacred space where nothing will be held back - sort
of like a confessional or a psychoanalyst's office. Query
your driver on Beijing officials and you will hear stories
of corruption, drunkenness and bribes. He may regale you with
a political joke such as the one about a newspaper that published
a picture of Li Peng on a farm in the countryside with some
pigs. The caption pointed out that Li was the second from
the right. Mention Beijing's Olympic bid and your driver will
snort that it's a ridiculous waste of money and time to paint
the exterior wall of every house in Beijing in a desperate
attempt to beautify the city for visiting IOC officials. When
I raised the topic of the recent spy plane crisis with the
U.S., one driver told me that China should have given the
crew back at the very beginning and that the Chinese reaction
revealed the intense power struggle between the country's
military and politicians.
Beijing taxi drivers have long been infamous for their frankness,
their thick Beijing drawl and their chain-smoking. Most drivers
carry an old stained coffee jar filled with a powerful brew
of green tea, which they will sip from between cigarettes.
Drivers troll the city in their little red cabs eking out
a living by driving up to 12 hours a day. Nowadays they earn
between $240 and $360 per month.
China's taxi drivers weren't always at the bottom of the wage
ladder. In the late 1980s, when there were few cabs and fares
were relatively high, drivers were among the wealthier members
of society. As some of China's first private entrepreneurs
they earned more than professors and managers of large state-owned
companies. But by the early 1990s, lay-offs from failing state-owned
enterprises forced the government to issue unlimited taxi
licenses. Taxi companies now manage all fleets, charging high
monthly lease rates for cars. Cabbies now wear cheap clothes,
smoke budget brand cigarettes and make their tea leaves last
for several days. I've even discovered that drivers will save
money on buying groceries when possible. Once while driving
very slowly in traffic with both windows open on a busy road,
my driver made a sudden violent dive under the steering wheel.
"What are you doing!" I shouted as we nearly drove into a
truck ahead of us.
"Oh, it's nothing," he said, sitting back up and quickly rapping
a towel around something lumpy in his hand.
"It's a toad," he said, "it just jumped into the car." He
folded back a corner of the towel to reveal a huge brown toad.
"Oh my goodness," I said, "do you want to stop and let him
out?"
"Let him out?" he asked, incredulously, "I'm going to eat
him tonight!" he said and carefully folded the toad back up
and tucked the package beneath his seat.
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