No Where Can Be the Last Scene

I must say I have a strong reminiscence. I used to live in a community with a history of more than thirty years. We moved out finally to a newly-built one last year. Just because of such low prices of a department are not to be missed in a remote corner of the city which is said to be the center of the district that my parents heard and thought. The new department lies on the north to the community, what used to be woods and a hill. Shinning windows are in the sunshine on those standard 6-level buildings, which are tidy and refreshing in the eyes of those urban-addicted, but not to me.

The prophecy had come true. After the completion of the outer ring road, broader roads connecting the outer ring and the inner ring are need. The government’s policy has been declared three years ago. That is mandatory evictions. I’ve watched TV at that time and seen old buildings being torn down in downtown. We live in suburb, so I’ve never thought such misfortune would befall us. A project with a stupid enough title “Golden Mountain Developments” started. In order to build a broader road, an existing path which was just connecting the two rings was chosen – the one gets through our community. How unique the stuff is!

Mother used to tell me stories of our neighborhood. The community completed its construction in the 1980s’ after the big earthquake in 1976 by the PLA. It was public housing of the Kailuan Group. The community was almost a concentrated city, a mini version of a modern city. It contains everything a city could have, a garden filled with cedars and a pavilion, a hospital, a bank, a library, a kindergarten, an elementary & senior middle school, a cultural station, a grocery store, a food store, a public bath, and even a cinema. All of these had been well placed on a 0.6 km² area with 32 blocks of flat at the foot of the Yanshan Mts. There were buttonwoods shading the entrance. Early in the morning, boys and girls would go to school along the “Red Scarf Street”. There used to be speakers on each top of poles, and they were responsible for broadcasting music and news in the morning. Every evening, there were always young people dancing in the cultural station with joy, both and old men talking and smoking. I can still remember when I was a child, my mother usually bring me to the food store to see how noodles were made. We went to the hospital for vaccination. North of the community grew white birches the same age as me my mom said. Still I’m keeping those photos we took among them.

…These are the scenes only lives in memory. Actually, the community had already decomposed before the eviction. But the buildings remained for the entire period. However, the realities are always cruel.

It is a wise idea to hire foreign migrant workers to conduct this project, for they just treat all of our treasures like bricks and wood. Judging by their accent and appearances, I’m sure they came from Henan Province. Everything was ruined in ten days. Memories of thirty years died in noises of ten days. Passersby mostly are original households here. They can’t help stopping to watch. Some complicated looks appears on their faces. Each time I’m on my way to school, I forced myself with a traditional concept of Chinese: “That’s none of my business.” But I just couldn’t chock back my sadness. The Radiator Springs had its reborn, how about simply erase it from the earth?

“Small family homes for everyone.” This is a most absurd but common used slogan in evicting areas for many reasons in China. Turn a once quite neighborhood into a business quarter maybe the best interpretation of “constructions” nowadays. Years of wandering after leaving home back the wanderer but being unable to find his home. This is the development given us.