It’s more than 90 days now, since Beijing experienced any rain, and on yet another bright, cold winter’s morning, I look out over Beijing, and am struck by the almost visible inactivity of this usually hyper-active town.
The population of Beijing is reduced by several million at this time of year. Huge numbers of migrant workers have returned to their hometowns across the country. Chinese New Year, and the traditional Spring Festival is upon us – and for the great majority of Chinese, this means making the long and perhaps difficult journey home, to be with family for a few precious days.
So, Beijing– city of twenty million, and capital city in the world’s fastest growing economy – feels, in some ways, not unlike Birmingham on a lazy Bank Holiday, as shops close, and the roads clear of traffic. An idleness, a feeling of calm even, has taken over, in this least idle, and least tranquil, of places.
It’s an eery calm, though, and one that is punctuated by hints of a storm as the remaining local people gear up to New Year with the random setting off of fireworks of sometimes fearsome proportions.
And seconds after midnight strikes, on the morning of February 3rd, Beijing bursts into a banquet of lights and explosions that shatter the sky and send tremors across the city. It is as though – in a way – the Chinese vent a year’s emotions through this feast of light and noise.
Two days later, as I gaze out from my 19th floor apartment over the East of Beijing, the city has returned to a lazy calm. Occasional fireworks continue to pierce the sky, the great highways are dotted with a small number of cars and taxis. In this city, where everything happens all the time, it is as though nothing is happening at all, during these Spring Festival days.
Except, of course, that what is happening is that which we cannot see. Families are spending time together at home – eating, sleeping, catching up on news, avoiding points of conflict, and welcoming the arrival of another year.
The migrant workers, at home too, in small villages and huge cities across the country, will be back in a few days. Back to satisfy the appetite created by this strange combination of authoritarian capitalism and ‘socialism with Chinese characteristics’ – for workers who will work all day, for sales staff who will sell until they drop, and for young women, and boys, who will sell themselves for any combination of purposes. These streets are, in their eyes, paved with opportunities, and, perhaps, even gold.
Economists, diplomats, and world leaders, look towards China with a mixture of awe and anxiety in their eyes. The young migrant workers simply press on. Tiger or rabbit, it will soon be business as usual again in Beijing.
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Peter Sampson, Beijing, January 2011
Peter Sampson, a long-term resident of North West Birmingham, has been living and working in Beijing since the summer of 2009.