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Monday afternoon was a very special occasion. The three-minute silence of
mourning was one of the most memorable moments of my life.
About 10 minutes before 2:28 pm, I heard a crowd had gathered in front of
our building. So, I joined them. Surprisingly, there was no crowd control. The
only instruction I heard was for someone in a bright shirt to move to the back
row, and he murmured some apology for not dressing properly.
More people filed downstairs. Then all vehicles on the street stopped,
blaring their horns. I took a peep and noticed that even pedestrians were
lowering their heads, though facing different directions. Many around me wiped
their eyes. After that, we all filed back into the building silently.
A more moving ritual I have not seen in this country. It was therapeutic
because for one week people did not know how to mourn publicly - the last time
we did that was in 1976. I do not remember who said "grief shared is half the
grief", but it was very true. Without the ceremony, it would have been difficult
for us to get back to normal life. We as a nation were simply in dire need of a
collective outlet for the sea of tears inside us.
For a "ritual", this was quite spontaneous and optional. Except for
organizations with flagpoles, everything was left to individual decisions. You
could pause and bow your head, or you could carry on what you were doing; you
could honk or not honk. Nobody was forcing you, and as a matter of fact nobody
criticized you for not complying with the majority - at least as far as I
know.
Since childhood, we have been through numerous rituals and ceremonies where
we did what we were told to do. This was one exception. The great majority of
people participated in something because they truly wanted to. It took the
government only to designate the time.
And what timing! Seven days to the exact minute. In folk tradition, the
seventh day is the first big mark for remembrance of the dead. A week had gone
by and people were simply searching for ways to express their deep sorrow, but
not knowing exactly what was appropriate.
On May 13, the day after the big quake, I received a short message from a
professor who "strongly suggested" that we lower the national flag to half-mast
and suspend all entertainment activities, among other requests. I thought his
proposal was great, but had little chance of turning into reality because the
government was so immersed in rescue and relief. Who would pay attention to such
protocol? Besides, this kind of observance is reserved for people like late
Chairman Mao Zedong.
Of course, there are other more spontaneous channels for grief and
compassion like attending candlelight vigils and donation drives. There was no
lack of heartbreaking and heartwarming feelings. What puzzled me was a shortage
of verbal expressions - songs and slogans - that would fit the solemnity.
We do not have music masterpieces like Beethoven's Ninth Symphony that can
elevate a tragedy to a supreme bonding of humanity. Many of the songs used by
the televised donation gala were festive in nature. And the singers did not even
bother to revise the lyrics to reflect the current disaster. It turned out the
National Anthem was one of the few that was appropriate.
The "Go China!" slogan is probably more suitable for the Olympics than for
a national mourning. Yes, we will triumph over the hardship. But "Go!" suggests
continuation of something good, such as scoring a goal, or a change of pace from
slow to fast. It is strange to ask a survivor to "Go". If only we had a catchy
Chinese phrase for "We shall overcome!"
E-mail: raymondzhou@chinadaily.com.cn |
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发表于 2016-7-9 23:49:04