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No Thieves in China

This is the first time I have had a real chance to write down my impression because of the hectic nature of the last four weeks since I left Hong kong for the unknown territories to the north.

Forty miles north of Kowloon a small river signifies the border, over which a train bridge passes. The rails go right across, but the Hong Kong train stops short, and all people, luggage, etc., are walked across to where the Canton tram is waiting. On the morning I crossed, hundreds and hundreds of Chinese were crossing the border both ways. Both H.K. and Chinese police looked quite used to it.

With my own two feet in China I was greeted by a Chinese border lieutenant who asked me to wait back on the H.K. side as I had no visa. They must have hurried things up because in half an hour I was back sipping tea in the station waiting for the Canton train to leave.

The trip to Canton—2½ hours through the southern part of China's rice-bowl. The maxim that "you can't change human nature" was effectively exploded for me after 20 hours in Canton. in the space of 100 miles. Hong Kong to Canton, differences in the people are obvious. Apart from there being no beggars, pedicabs instead of rickshaws, no tipping, no rubbish in the streets, and no soliciting females, the honesty and cleanliness of the people themselves were markedly different, even in narrow cramped streets. In H. K. the best hotels can't guarantee the safety of anything—even if locked in a room. But it is true in Canton and the rest of China no one needs to lock the door. I have seen people walk yards out of their way to dispose of cigarette butts and ice-cream wrappers.

But Canton compared with north China is still backward. There are people still living on the river in sampans—eliminated now in Shanghai. But many things remain the same—the common markets and story-tellers in the streets. Most impressive sight in Canton was, when roaming round the city at 11 p.m. (even among the crowds there was a wonderful feeling of safety compared with Hong Kong). I was wandering round the Park of Culture and Rest (right in the middle of the city) when we came upon about 2000 people watching a game of Chinese chess played on a vertical board about 30 feet high—they gave the impression of happy and contented people.

Left 6 a.m. by plane for Peking, where we arrived 3.30 p.m. Every hilltop in China seems to be cultivated, buildings are sprouting everywhere, but there is an awful amount of hard manual labour being done—peasants and road workers lugging carts of hay, bricks, and stone. But there is no doubt the potential is there for easing the burden of labour as the rotten things of the old regime have gone forever. Incidentally, the Chinese are in no way worried about not being recognised by the N.Z. Government (alter my apologies). Formosa and U.N. representation seem to be the key issues.

Spent nearly a day and a half in Peking—all too short, but I had to get the Moscow express in time. Peking is in course of intense modernisation, whole rows of houses miles long being removed for street-widening. Spent a great deal of my time with Alex. York, and Pauline Young. (Alex and York are the sons of long Sing Young, for many years well known importer in New Zealand, now resident in China. Alex was studying science at V.U.C'. 1952-53, and returned to China in 1954. Pauline is a Chinese girl from Poland, now Alex's wife.) Alex is very happy and enthusiastic about the "rectification programme." His job is translating the magazine "Chinese Literature" into English. For our group photo. York wore his Wellington College blazer. The three of them get 60 yuan a month each, food and rent taking 20 yuan each. Alex spends all the rest of his in curtos, Sunday outings, and books. Things were grim when he was at the school (learning Chinese), but for the past year he has been gradually overcoming the prejudices against him, and building up a reputation as an authority on New Zealand (he would appreciate any material from home).