Newspaper Page Text
(Continued from
Preceding Page.)
strong in China. People help
each other, and they don’t
have to be told to do so.
I was on a plane flying
from Canton to Shanghai
when the pilot was radioed
that he would have to make
a stop in Hangchow because
the weather was bad over
Shanghai. We landed as or
dered, but then a big discus
sion began about continuing
the flight.
For we had an important
passenger aboard, a factory
worker whose fingers had
been sliced off in a machine.
Doctors had stitched the fin
gers back on but the joints
weren’t mending properly,
so he was going to Shanghai
for more treatment.
The pilot, the steward
esses, the airport workers,
even the waiter and the cook
from the Hangshow airport
hotel, all got together on the
tarmac to discuss whether
or not to go on.
The discussion circle de
cided it was correct to go on
to Shanghai because it was
in the interests of the man
with the injured hand that he
should get there as quickly
as possible.
So off we went again.
Flying is a pleasure in
China. They have a “jump
in, let’s go” approach to air
travel. No nonsense about
safety belts, although belts
are there. Passengers stroll
up and down the aisles, as
someone munches an apple
—suddenly we’re up and
away.
* * *
Don’t believe all those
stories about no sex in China.
You can see plenty of boys
and girls nuzzling in the
parks, but not in the day
time; daytime is for work.
There are lots of pretty
girls. “There’s a slick
chick,” I said admiringly
one day.
Wang Lien-Yi, my inter
preter, wagged a finger seri
ously. “Now, now, comrade
McLeod,” he admonished.
“We don’t speak of our wom
en that way.”
“Get away,” I said.
“You’re talking like an old
puritan. How did you get 700
million people, anyway?”
* * *
In China, there’s always
something around the corner
that you don’t expect. In a
silk factory, I came upon a
group of women sitting and
chatting.
“Tea break?” I asked.
“No, political study period.”
said Mr. Wang.
Students really have to
work. This is the timetable
of a Chinese student’s work
ing day:
6 a.m.—Get up.
6- Physical exercise.
6:30-7—Listen to current
affairs on the radio.
7- Breakfast.
7:30-B:3o—Political study.
8:30-11:30—Lectures in
course subjects.
11:30-12:30—Lunch.
12:30-2:30 p.m. — Rest
(reading or sport).
2:30-4:3o—Private study in
course subjects.
4:30-s:3o—Extracurricular
activity (sport or productive
labor in garden, farm or
workshop).
5:30-6:3o—Supper.
6:30-7:3o—Private study
and rest.
7:30-B—Read newspapers.
8-10—Private study.
10 p.m.—Bed.
* * *
China is self-reliant as a
nation and this penetrates
down to all levels.
I’ve already mentioned
Tachai. It is hardly known
outside China, but it is fa
mous among the Chinese.
“In agriculture, learn from
Tachai” is a phrase of
Mao’s.
Tachai is in the northern
mountains, a night’s train
ride from Peking. There are
less than a hundred families
there but they have become
pace-setters for the whole
country.
There land is hilly, steeply
sloped and rocky. There are
long periods of dry weather,
broken by heavy rains which
run away with the topsoil,
leaving deep ravines.
Often, the laboriously built
and carefully cultivated ter
races on which food is grown
for the whole community
were swept away in storms.
After the disastrous floods of
1963 the people of Tachai de
cided to tackle the erosion
problem once and for all.
Using explosives but with
out a single machine, they
moved thousands of tons of
rock and soil to construct
new terrace walls on deep
foundations. Then they car
ried back up the hillsides the
topsoil that had been washed
down. Newly dug irrigation
wells, channels and drains
now carry off floodwater and
distribute water for irriga
tion during dry periods.
The community—all the
land is communally owned
—also found time to rebuild
their village, in stone, and
they planted trees for shade,
fruit and timber.
The Tachai villagers, with
spades and baskets slung
from shoulder poles, tri
umphed over natural hard
ship in one of the country’s
poorest areas and made for
themselves a more comfort
able and more secure life.
The “spirit of Tachai” and
the slogan “Dare to think
and dare to act” have be
come forces in the transfor
mation of China’s “good
earth.”
* * *
I got my sore throat in
Yenan. I also felt slightly
ar M Bk
48 ...b8881'
X ’*■ /WSBBFbBbB -'Ta- & ' SnSr'
When not soldiering in the traditional sense, members of the Chinese army
till the fields along with the peasants. They also work in factories.
giddy. So I had a hot drink
and a couple of aspirin-type
tablets which I’d brought
with me.
But the Chinese weren’t
taking any chances and a
“barefoot doctor” was sent
to have a look at me. He had
shoes on—barefoot doctor is
a term for a medical man
without specialized medical
training. He looked terrible:
awful teeth, a bit of wispy
beard on his chin, ragged
clothes.
He opened his box and
said, “You can have either
Western medicine or the
needles.”
I cracked a joke, some
thing about sticking a needle
in one ear and out the other,
then twiddling the ends. He
didn’t laugh. He took a
needle and stuck it in the
back of my hand, between
the thumb and forefinger.
There was no pain, no blood.
He stuck another in my arm.
“Can you feel anything?”
he asked. “No,” I said.
Then he twiddled the nee
dles. I said I felt a bit numb,
but it was nothing much.
After 10 minutes he took the
needles out. Again there was
no blood. The soreness went
from my throat.
I wasn’t sure about the
needle treatment that time.
It might have been the hot
drink or the tablets, or both,
which brought relief. But a
few days later I got another
chance. I got a headache. It
was in Tachai. I’d been out
in the sun, working hard for
several hours, and I had a
thundering headache—bang,
bang, bang-a-bang in the
temples. Awful. “We’ll get a
barefoot doctor,” said the
guide.
The “doctor” offered me
a tablet or the needles.
“Needles,” I said. He stuck
one in each temple, level
with my eyes. He twisted the
ends, left them in for 10 min
utes, then took them out.
My headache went, and I
haven’t had another since.
That’s acupuncture.
What’s it all about? How
does it work?
The Chinese invented it.
They say that the body is full
of stresses and strains and
the needles relieve the pres
sure, like a safety valve.
I saw something else. In a
Shanghai hospital was an 11-
year-old boy whose left leg
*** jggFj2Kß*****
id* • * , V k ■■RO'"' ■''-•
Qf* •• • *
Bl’V’.V- -?v"
»>'.• /
W > ' 1 *
Soldier on leave in Peking
proudly displays his son.
was crippled by polio when
he was three months old. The
hospital stuck needles in his
thigh and ankle. Now he can
walk—stiffly, but he walks.
Some Western doctors say
acupuncture is baloney. But
to the Chinese, who often in
ject herbal medicine at the
points after the needles are
withdrawn, the treatment is
part of their traditional
medicine, centuries old. It’s
one of their “great treas
ures” and they haven’t dis
carded it despite the cultural
revolution.
* * *
All the talk in the West
now is about China becoming
more friendly. President
Griffin Daily News
Nixon has even said he
wants to go there.
From what I heard, he’ll
never make it. As long as
Americans prop up Chiang
Kai-shek on Formosa and
propagate a line about two
Chinas, Washington will
whistle in vain for better re
lations with Peking.
Also, these Chinese aren’t
so anxious to get into the
United Nations. “We don’t
believe in just sitting and
talking,” they said. “Talking
is all very well, but one also
has to act.”
I could see what they
mean: Sitting around doesn’t
move mountains.
(NEWSPAPER ENTERPRISE ASSN.)
3