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In 1995, the Reichstag building in Berlin was wrapped in white sheets by
the artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude as an art project.
Recently, a building in the city of Zhangjiajie, Hunan province, seemed to
be wrapped in red sheets. The intention was not to be artistic, though, as the
vertical banners all bore congratulatory messages from an array of government
agencies, including the tax bureau, the court and the procurator's office - all
for the celebration of a foot-washing business.
When photos of the banner-covered building surfaced online, they drew a
barrage of condemnation: How could local authorities join hands with unsavory
elements in such a blatant display of solidarity? Are they supposed to be the
cat and the mouse?
Without digging deeper, and in the absence of incriminating evidence, this
is reading too much into the photos. The banners are, in essence, alternatives
for the more common baskets of flowers that friends, peers and even rivals send
on such occasions.
Part of the controversy lies in the nature of the business of foot washing,
or rather, foot massaging. Like similar services, such as saunas, hair salons
and massage parlors, it is often lumped with the world's oldest trade, or,
serves as a front for that business, which is illegal in China.
Assuming innocence before proving otherwise, we should refrain from jumping
to the conclusion that this particular venue, which has just opened its doors,
is guilty by association. Foot massaging, which may sound quaint to some,
sprouted in China in the late 1990s and employed a huge army of young and barely
skilled migrants. Many cities see the industry as delivery from poverty and even
a gateway into prosperity. The trickle-down effect is palpable as the business
is labor intensive, but resource light.
If anything, foot massaging is less likely to morph into contact of the
intimate kind than regular massaging because it involves only the body parts
below the knees and is performed in the presence of other patrons, sometimes in
big halls.
It so happens that I had a foot-massaging adventure in Zhangjiajie, which
is where the latest brouhaha took place. After two days of trekking in the
nearby scenic mountains, a group of us were guided - or goaded - to a place for
a "free foot massage".
As soon as we made ourselves comfortable in a room arranged like a meeting
hall, two dozen young men and women emerged, each holding a basin of water. They
wore big smiles, and without hesitation, rolled up our pants and started
rubbing.
Just as some of us were dozing off, a sharp-looking middle-aged man in a
fancy suit jumped onto a small podium. He started to enumerate the countless
benefits of some herbal medicine, or rather, diet supplement. God, he was
eloquent! But nobody budged. We all wanted the freebie without the overpriced
placebo.
Finally, someone said: "I'll buy one. I don't think we'll be let go without
shelling out a single kuai."
Shouldn't local authorities, especially law enforcement, ensure such
businesses avoid creeping into shady territory? Of course. They should not
become the umbrella to shelter local businesses from anything unethical or
illegal. That is the bottom line. But on the other hand, there is nothing wrong
with maintaining a buddy-buddy relationship with those they tax and protect, and
most of all, serve.
Am I so naive as to be blind to the obvious white-way, black-way (read: cop
and mafia) conspiracy?
For me, a string of banners does not constitute even circumstantial
evidence. |
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