ChinaBlog Day 17

"This reminds me of President Bush's memorial address after Hurricane Katrina." My professor, Robert, was being facetious. We stood in a small group on the sidewalk when he said it, winding down from an experience so overwhelming that, for once, all of us were rather at a loss for words. His comment was the first to put the sounds into some semblance of perspective for this Westerner. I wanted my head to keep ringing with the power of the noise. I wanted the silent aftermath to stretch on for weeks. But eventually, as it always does, the quietness dissipated, and the everyday sounds of city life wound up once again. But for 15 minutes this afternoon, every single person in China, native and foreign, was united.
--I was thirsty. I wonder if I'd have even noticed all the commotion had a combination of dust in the air and boredom with purified water not sent me out to the courtyard from our sheltered little studio. A man in a parked truck just inside the gate was leaning on his horn. He seemed to be having an argument with another car driving past our complex outside. A small group of local artists huddled in their doorway looking out upon the din. With (really for the first time here) a note of trepidation, I poked my head out the gate. The driver continued on slowly, still blowing his horn. BEE-BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. BEE-BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. BEE-BEEEEEEEEEEEE. One short, one long. One short, one long. The truck driver responded in kind. And then I began to hear it.
--The car horn is an integral tool to navigating this city. Unlike back home, it is rarely used in anger, but more commonly to warn of coming danger. The beeps of taxis can often be translated into English as "excuse me, coming through, right behind you." Or, perhaps, "you need to stop or we will crash." They are frequent and pervasive.
--So I at first ignored the noisy background to this strange automotive dialogue. But after a moment I began to realize that not only the courtyard truck driver and street-cruising car, but a taxi down the street, some other unseen vehicles in the nearby village, and cars and trucks speeding by on the airport expressway had voices in this extensive nonverbal exchange.
--I felt a wave of pressure on my face as I realized exactly what was going on. Within the full breadth of my hearing, people driving in cars honked their horns, and people on the street stood mourning, sobbing, silent. One hour ago, the entire city; no, it was clear, the entire country of China stood still, listening to the loud, mournful wail of every car, truck, rickshaw, and bicycle in the most populous country on Earth. Waves of compassion and unity were palpable, within the crowded urban streets of Beijing, within the small villages of rural China, and within every person crying quietly on the streetcorner. This was a moment of silence. This was a roar of solidarity. For a full 15 minutes, 1.2 billion people said goodbye together.
-c