Nanjing Massacre Museum

January 6, Sunday, Virginia’s birthday

I went with a guide today, after several weeks of trying, to the Nanjing Memorial Hall, http://www.nj1937.org/english/default.asp , the museum commonly referred to as the Nanjing Massacre Museum.  I am relieved that the Canadian government is not allowing to happen with Winnipeg’s Asper Foundation Human Rights Museum what has happened here.  It is not possible for me to judge whether the intent is to memorialize the atrocities and trauma of the event, or to ingrain hatred of the Japanese.  My student is generally a fair minded lad, I think, and sensitive.  But he too is unforgiving.  Taiwan is China, Tibet is China, Diaoyu Islands are China.  What is not China? 

How are the events of the Japanese massacre, over the course of a month from December 13, 1937 to January 14, 1938, of some 300,000 Chinese civilians different from the Tutsi massacre of Hutus in Rwanda, the Ukrainian Hlodomor, the German Holocaust of Jews?  I hope I would have the courage, in similar circumstances to kill myself before I would do such horrific things to others.  What is done to people’s minds that they will laugh as they kill innocents, or for that matter those they belief to not be innocent.  Farmers crossing a field with hoes in hand, 3 year olds gunned down, old women, young women raped, and murdered. 

My guide commented that he was brought to the “old” original, and much smaller museum as a primary student.  At that time the archeological remains of mass graves, which he referred to as the bones room, was a part of the display.  There were then some photos too.  He said the children, boys especially, just used the open areas to run around in and he had little lasting impression.  But I cannot think it an appropriate place to bring primary students.  Those mature enough to understand much, or those imaginative enough, would surely have unanswerable nightmares.  And for those not so, it would be a waste of time.  As middle school students and seniors, yes. It has value provided it is dealt with in a way that focuses on human rights rather than promoting hatred.  Considering my reading of articles around the recent Diaoyu Islands debate, the rhetoric and “news” carried such inflammatory language, I hesitate to believe that human rights would be the focus.

The guide asked me what was the part of the museum that I was most impressed by.  Certainly the photos of masses of unidentifiable bodies was impressive.  Why were so many of the bodies naked from the waist down?  Not only women, but men and children too?  And the 2 “bones” rooms, one in the original area and one in the new, spacious, hauntingly gloomily lit new museum, were impressive.  Skeletons unearthed, some whole, some not; some just jumbles of seemingly random human bones. 

But most impressive to me were the narratives and videos (even though I could not understand them) of women who survived the “Comfort Women’s Centres”.  To constrain the wonton raping of Chinese women in the months and years following the Japanese occupation, the Japanese commanders decreed that Comfort Women’s Centres be established in each major city so that the sexual appetites of the Japanese soldiers could be sated.  Anywhere from 5 to 50 women would be abducted from their homes and brought to the comfort centres for institutionalized humiliation.  Most were teenagers.  They did “chores” during the day.  At one cited centre the 6 women housed there used their daytime hours to hand wash the laundry of 100 men, and at night they were systematically raped and/or gang raped between 5 and 20 times, depending upon how attractive they were.  After 2-3 years, if they were still alive, and the majority were apparently not, they were either so sick and infected by multiple venereal diseases, or pregnant and therefore no longer sufficiently comely to be desirable, they were “released” to the streets, to find their way to whatever might be left of “home”, or to die, beyond Comfort. 

I had not realized it but as my guide pointed out, the Qing Dynasty, collapsed in 1911 and in the ensuing years while the National Peoples Republic was rebuilding the country, there was rampant poverty, the army was weak and there was inadequate military might or strategic foresight and skill to defend against the attacks that began in 1931.  At that time the French owned/controlled bits of China, and the Brits, too.  But, he said, it seemed the Japanese wanted to take over the entire country because of their dire need for additional resources.  And, perhaps, had it not  been for the intervention of the Russians and WWII, they might have had it.  And just as is the case in Africa, why did the West not intervene?  I guess they might have, but on the side of the Japanese because of the Red terror that was China.  Thanks be for the Russians.  The ongoing Diaoyu Islands debate simply keeps the fires of hatred burning.  They are tiny islands, but the brand of the Japanese is on them despite history’s claim that they are Chinese.  I do not know the history but I know the rhetoric here is very inflammatory.

There are many very poignant sculptures on the grounds which are wide open graveled spaces, speaking to the unnamed horrors that lie within.  The museum covers not only the Massacre itself, but the WWII years as well, until the Japanese were repelled, and leaders executed or long imprisoned as war criminals.  One could not be tried, the uncle of the Japanese royal Hirohito family whose members it was agreed would not be prosecuted.  The Japanese referred throughout to that month of killing as an “incident”, and therefore, their view, captives need not be treated with the respect the international community required to be shown Prisoners of War.  Thousands were beheaded, or individually shot and toppled over the banks of mass grave pits.  Toward nightfall, anxious to be done the day’s job of killing thousands, machine guns might be used.  Then, so that their deed was hidden, the Japanese would spend the night using heavy machinery or shovels to cover the graves.  A few, by hiding under bodies, feigning death, surviving multiple bayonet stabbings, or hiding in rivers and caves, did escape to the refugee centres established by the German Nazi John Rabe, (https://www.google.ca/search?sourceid=navclient&aq=&oq=nanjing+massacre+rabe&ie=UTF-8&rlz=1T4ACAW_enCA353CA378&q=nanjing+massacre+rabe&gs_l=hp...0i30j0i8i30l2.0.0.0.5347...........0.mT_vDbryzbg) by American and British humanitarians, who complained often and as forcefully as they dared about the raping, pillaging and murdering that was going on.  But to little avail.  One commander’s order sheet read “Kill them all.” 

As a side note, some of the heaviest fighting took within 2 km of my school at Purple mountain where Sun Yat Sen’s mausoleum is.  It boggles my mind and breaks my heart to imagine the scene.

Happy 2013 - December 31, 2012

Dec 31, 2012

Happy New Year, as Joy said, the year of our Lord, 2013; as the Chinese (will) say, on February 9, the year of the Snake. Yesterday, December 30, was a day of epiphany for me. I lit out by train from Nanjing to Suzhou, alone with myself. I had thought about the journey for several days without making any concrete plans, that is to say without booking train tickets or a hotel. But finally, on December 28^th, it had to be done. Either I would go somewhere to celebrate the New Year alone with my own company, I or would stay alone in Nanjing. Kevin, my young acquaintance and after-rental service assistant turned friend, encouraged me by helping me plan the Virginia and Valerie China excursion, and I mentioned my desires at work. He volunteered to get my tickets for me but it really is something I must learn to do for myself. Linda, a young energetic and kind colleague mentioned that train tickets can be purchased at the Jin Ling Hotel, in English, with a small added commission of 5 Y per trip ticket. I went there, bought the tickets and returned home to book a hostel. The Chinese arise early, and so did I, on the day of departure, December 30, Sunday, so that I would arrive at the train station early enuf to get my bearings. Kevin recommended a half hour; I got there an hour early, planning 45 minutes early. But the Metro trip only took 15 minutes compared with the estimate of 40 minutes.

The train trip itself was uneventful. But I did see the industrial area south of Nanjing. Though local educated workers are paid enough to live comfortably in suburban apartments, many people come in from the countryside seeking factory work and are housed within the factory compound. They have heard and dreamt of work that allows them to get ahead. But they are paid a pittance in real money, if at all, with the majority being coupons that are only valid currency within the factory where goods are over-priced. They are little more than indentured servants, the real currency being insufficient to result in significant savings.  

And I saw how land is so efficiently used. Rice paddies in fields adjacent to the tracks, soil erosion on the banks prevented with concrete horseshoe shaped plantings. Burial mounds dot the low rises of naturally growing trees, with true natural forests rising from the steeper grades. Where there are saplings and more mature tree growth they are not forests at all, but tree gardens. This is what our landscapes will resemble as our forests are stripped and “developed”; neat rows of tree growth with none of the beauty and tangle of undergrowth, nor the canopy of old growth. There are few birds’ nests, and nary a bird to be seen.

Arriving in Suzhou I was immediately accosted by tour promoters selling tickets to the famous and beautiful gardens I later was later false told at the official Tourism Information office, are closed for the winter. And subsequently for a taxi at 60 Y to my hotel, the address of which Kevin had kindly translated to Mandarin. I knew the offered price of 60 Y had to be greatly inflated and refused, offering 30 Y. He came down to 45 easily so I knew it was a “no go”.

There was a train information officer handy and I asked her, in the presence of the taxi securer, what the price ought to be. She could not tell me that; to do so would have betrayed the integrity of the securer. Nonetheless, she recognized that I knew there was an attempt being made to exploit me. I knew that the train station was in the core of the city, as was my hotel. I also knew that any taxi within the core could not possibly exceed 30Y, so that was the price I stipulated. The securer refused. But the train information person invited me to follow her, and led me to the lane of black, and therefore classier cabs waiting in a queue, as opposed to those driving into the “stop and start” lanes. These black taxis do not display a taxi sign or logo, thus preventing passengers the "shame" of advertising that they are using public transit as by far, the majority of privately owned cars are also black. The driver next in line indicated he did not know where the hotel was and consulted with four colleagues. Confidence in arriving in a timely fashion eroding, I again offered 30Y, but said I required a receipt.

When I got into the cab, I again said I needed a receipt and he gave me one - from the previous passenger - for 32 Y. After we got underway, I asked if the metre was working and he admitted it was. I again said I would need a fa piao (receipt). We arrived at the destination, and I asked for the fa piao. It was 19Y. He happily accepted my 21Y. My thinking was thus. A 10% tip was an acceptable compromise. In the first place he would have been happy to exploit me. Second, tipping is not the Chinese way yet I know that taxi drivers are grossly underpaid and thus also exploited. Still, I do have some discretionary income, but am neither a generous tipper nor stupid. Everything in China is complicated. In Canada, I usually tip 10%; for me 15% is for good service. Overall, the bargaining went thus Taxi – 60-50-45-30-32- with correct receipt 19 Y, with 2 Y tip 21Y total! Perhaps I ought to feel some compunction at having dishonoured my offer of 30Y, but I don't considering the circumstances. In any case, not only was there no argument, but the driver was gracious, helping me with my bags, and ensuring we were at the correct destination by asking a local on the street, and smiling happily.  

It is difficult to know where one is expected to bargain, and where the prices are “firm”. I know that the local Suguo (like a small Safeway or Sobey’s) offer firm prices as do the restaurants and street food vendors, tourist spots and upscale clothing stores. But at all of the street markets and most of the independent stores, bargaining is “de rigueur”, and several sellers admired by ability to bargain effectively.   

I have been tempted to do some crocheting or needlework to while away some time. What extra time, I ask myself in saner moments? I saw some lovely chenille type “wool” priced at 20 Y/skein. She was willing to sell it for 15Y, but then I thought, hell, I’ll never knit/crochet it anyway. In desperation, she pulled out a sample of what the scarf would look like, already made up. At the time, she was teaching her daughter to knit, and I admired her learner and her teacher, “nide mama hen haude lau shir” (Your mother is a very good teacher.) And she was, patient with the clumsy and slow work of her learner, yet a fast knitter in her own right. She asked 50 Y for it, and happily sold it to me for 45 Y.  This tells me the price at 20 Y a skein was grossly overpriced.  But her work was worth at least the price of a skein. 

On the trains one is allowed to carry 2 bags weighing not more than 20 kg. Each. With the clothes I have purchased here in Suzhou, I needed something to carry them in. I bought a Ferrari knock-off athletic bag. The seller started out asking me 60 Y. I smiled, offering 30 as I walked away. She called after me 50 Y. I paused, again offered 30 and took another couple of steps. Then she called after me, ok, 40Y. And I bought it, knowing locals would probably only pay 25-30, and that I have bought the same thing in Canada at a ValuVillage for about $2.50 (20Y).   I don’t mind being exploited a little, but I refuse to be bilked unmercilessly. “You bargain well,” she commented admiringly. “Where are you from?” But I told her it was my papa who taught me to bargain.  As a knock-off, the bag is not worth more than 30, so she made a good profit, and I got the kind of bag I needed.  It is not, as the vendor claimed, piao leung, pretty, but it is gong dzou, it works. I am much less concerned with beauty than most; very beautiful, “hen piao leung” is absolutely the top selling feature - best quality is second.

I needed an extra bag in which to carry my unanticipated purchases of clothing.  The pants I bought were ``on sale`` at a department store.  They had the original price marked, and the discount was applied at the till.  I asked for an extra 10% off, and got it!  I had tired of being told the stores have no women`s pants with my gigantic waist size (34``) so asked if they had men`s pants in that size.  The clerks searched diligently and came up with 4 pairs, 2 blue jeans and 2 brown pairs.  I had to buy the 35`waist in order to skirt my hips on the way up, but at least now I have some jeans to wear. The clerks were laughing hysterically at me as I left with my men’s pants.  Any inkling of homosexuality is met with derision; young women dress to the nines most of the time, in stiletto boots, and faux fur trimmed ski jackets or with lace frills.  Mr. Yang, the tailer, will make me some dress pants for work, minus the lace, thanks very much!  I also bought a fuchsia sweater that I could not resist on the way out the door.

My celebration of the incoming year was pretty low-key.  After watching a movie, I started to hear the familiar, pop, pop, of distant firecrackers at about 11:15.  The Chinese invented gunpowder, and have not forgotten it a day since, I’m sure.  Every wedding consists of fireworks at 6:30-7:00 a.m. when the groom picks up his bride for a day of photos, etc., and again at 6:30 at night as the reception commences.  I went out to see what there was to see.  A young man was talking yet another picture of his beloved, and I offered to take their picture together.  I wished them Happy New Year, and struck up a conversation with the young lady.  Her fellow asked, “Do you know each other?”  “No,” we agreed.  I think he though me strange.  But that’s ok.  He is definitely not the first if that is the case.  I walked about a km, hearing periodic pop, pops.  Finally, in the distance, was a tremendous fireworks display that went on for at least 15 minutes, starting just before midnight, usually 3-4 at a time.  I surmise that wherever the fireworks were occurring was also where all the people were as the streets were mostly empty.  All the food stalls open till 10:00 usually, were gone, the gates down on all the store fronts.    I returned to my room and drank the ½ cup of bijiao I’d bought earlier, unable to find any western liquor or wine.  Although I’d paid 10 times the price of the cheap stuff of 20 years ago, it did not taste any better.  My goodness, it is awful stuff!  Next time, I’ll try to remember to go without if it is my only recourse. 

Overall, though I am not learning as fast as I’d wish, I can again carry on a basic conversation in Mandarin.  However, the ability to explain anything complex or solve any difficult problems eludes me.  Still, I am not dissatisfied with my progress as I can at least, make myself understood in what I do try to communicate.

Somebody, Anybody, Nobody Dec 28/12

December 28, 2012 

Several days ago, I noticed Jim in conversation with the Foreigner liaison staff about his concern with the frayed and jumbled wiring that extends from the various teacher desks to the hub at the back of the room. It is dangerous. Not only might someone trip over it and fall on the ceramic floor, but such an event would cause havoc with the wiring. “Somebody ought to do something about that.” Jim commented he has been trying for five years to get someone to fix it, which reminded me of this little story,

 

“about four people named Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody. There was an important job to be done and Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it. Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it. Somebody got angry about that because it was Everybody's job. Everybody thought that Anybody could do it, but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn't do it. It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have done.”

 

Looking around, I agreed with Everybody that the entire office was an unholy dusty mess. There was a stack of drama costumes and accessories that has been sitting in one corner for five years, one of the returned teachers noted. It is the perfect home for the mice and rat that live in the walls. “Somebody ought to do something about that,” was said.  But nobody wanted to take the chance of coming across evidence of Anybody living in the stack.  As it turned out, they’d left a few pebbles behind, but thankfully, no babies lived there. 

There was a bookshelf at the desk behind mine, full of teaching materials and junk from the past 5 years. The teacher whose desk it is has only made one 5 minute appearance in our office in the past 4 months, preferring to use his desk at another building where the Chinese principal also hangs out the majority of the time. The principal also has a desk where he uses the phone every couple of days. The Chinese math teacher has, over time, spread his belongings across 3 desks. His primary desk has enuf space where ancient unmarked student work has accumulated for his phone and day book. A second desk with a computer that I have never seen used has a stack of old school publications dating back 5 years. And the third has on it the computer that is the tower for the printer. There, the Math teacher spends the bulk of his non-classroom time watching internet movies or playing video games. The microwave ovens, one filthy and unused, one new and functioning, sits on an old desk in which the drawers do not function properly.

So, I decided that somebody would do something about it, and spent an afternoon doing it. I boxed up the drama costumes that the drama teacher had volunteered 6 weeks ago to take home and wash. I moved the paper cupboard, and filled it with the three cases of paper stacked around. I asked the Chinese principal whether it would be possible for me to use the bookshelf for English teaching and learning materials. He said that would be fine and he would ask the teacher whose materials they were to look them over and decide what he needed or could be stored or discarded. I boxed them up, in order, with spines visible and moved the shelf behind my desk. I moved the unused microwave up high on another shelf, out of reach. Anybody could see I was struggling with the weight and bulk of getting the microwave onto that high shelf, but Nobody wanted to be blamed if a body didn’t like the changes. I moved the bookshelf that had been on my desk and with Jim’s permission, put it on his desk to hold the eclectic stack of fiction he likes to read, but which is stacked so high it was in danger of falling off. In fact, when we moved the desk to the hallway, they did topple off.  I reassured Jim that I had carefully re-stacked his books in just the same sequence as they had been so that he could find them easily. He caustically noted that the big red one was out of place, and I replied that that one did have to be stacked as “oversize”. I could put up a “go to” note, if he’d like! But alas, he thinks he can remember its new place. I turned the printer desk around, and placed it against the wall so that there is a safe walking space.  It still shows lots of movies, but I haven’t noticed games lately!

And low and behold, when I went to the Suguo store in the evening they had been doing some renovations and there was a strip of aluminum that I harvested to encase the cords. So the following day, I untangled that mess, replacing the frayed cords with two that were in better condition and had been going nowhere. And I coiled the three cords that were among the mess, but also unused. Now the cords are enclosed, protected, and not a tripping hazard.

Jim left a note on my desk, I paraphrase, “It needed doing. And somebody did it. Thanks, Somebody.” When the Chinese principal came by, he commented that the office looks much better now. I have no idea when or whether the boxed books will disappear. I'd give it five years, till the next "Somebody" comes along.

 

The next day my principal dropped by and, hardly able to contain himself, noted there was a desk in the hallway and would we like to have it moved into that empty space at the back of the room.  "No, Charlie.  No, Charlie, definitely not."

 I recall a similar thing in The Pas in 2001. My long 17000 square foot pie shaped lot was bisected by a driveway leading to the garage doors off the back lane. I thought this a big waste of backyard space and decided the doors of the garage ought to lead from the front street. So I made the plan, hired a contractor to install a front garage door and fence a gate and yard space where the driveway had been. Mark next door was amazed to see a casual conversation transformed to reality in the space of two weeks. I never knew really how to interpret Mark’s comment, as male chauvinism or acknowledgement of my feminist independence. In any case, when I told this story to Jim, he had a different take, saying that’s what a little education does. Of course, getting to know Mark better showed me his comments could not have been chauvinistic at all as he is one of the most liberated men I know.

Till next post, stay well, send comments and questions, and take care. Happy 2013 to you all.

Bad dreams and scary realities Dec 8/12

December 8, Saturday, 2012.

From the time I figured out how to contact my boys, and prior to the past two weeks, I spoke with Che at least once a week.  However, the last I heard from him was about the 24^th of November, when he commented that it was the last day of regular classes, as he looked forward to study week and exams.  The last I heard from Xian was November 11.  I get very concerned about them both when I don’t hear from Che weekly, and Xian bimonthly.  Twice in this past week, therefore, I have had bad dreams, yes, I would say nightmares, about their safely.  I dreamt that Xian was in prison on a drug charge, and I was completely unable to find his exact whereabouts, let alone be of any assistance to him.  He was either in China, the Middle East, or Africa.  Che, on the other hand, had been involved in a traffic accident and appeared in the dream as a bloodied broken mess. 

Today I was again called to question the existence of God, and certainly to believe in a cosmic force.  My phone battery was low on Friday morning, and in a non-routine action I took my charger to work and at the end of the day, forgot it there.  Although it may have held sufficient charge over the weekend, I know I will want to use it tomorrow, Sunday, and decided that after shopping at Times Grocery and Skyways Bakery on Shanghai Lu, I would take a route home via the school to get the charger.  I missed a turn and cycled an extra few minutes to get back to Gulou Metro station and Beijing Dong Lu where the school is located.  At Gulou, I stopped to buy a red bean coconut tea and drank it in the park there, chatting with a man and his dog.  I picked up the charger, and headed home.  At the intersection a small group of people had gathered, and a person was prostrate with her left arm hooked over the rear view mirror of her downed motorcycle.  I was going to ride on by; I actually thought she was dead.  But I did stop and noticed that she was breathing heavily, though unconscious.

 I stood by my bicycle for about 3-4 minutes, from about 4:27,  but noticed no one on a phone and no one was attending to her, though someone did release her arm from the mirror.  And I did see a young man who was there when I arrived on a phone.  As she regained consciousness, she attempted to roll over, and moaned in pain.  At that point, I could not stop myself from going to her.  I began speaking to her soothingly, and stroking her face, I put slight pressure on her hip to help her understand she should not move.  She began to shiver slightly and I knew she was going into shock.  I removed my car coat length ski jacket, and covered her.  I continued to talk to her and to stroke her face, and hold her hand.  Suddenly, I remembered that babies relax when you massage their bellies, and knowing the Chinese love massages, I lightly massaged her belly.  At about 4:50, the police finally arrived, parking nearly a block away, and ambling to the accident scene. 

Before going to her aid at all, their concern was solely to establish whether there was a witness, and what had happened.  The young man who had been on the telephone described the accident.  I understood from his hand motions that she had been cut off by another biker (e-bike or motorcycle), whose bike had hooked her mirror and knocked her over.  This bike was nowhere to be seen.  He had simply carried on his merry way, no doubt speeding up.  The police radioed for an ambulance and it arrived at a couple of minutes past 5:00.  The poor woman had been on the cold pavement for 35 minutes.  She faded in and out of consciousness.  The police attempted to get her name and she tried to tell them who to call, but she was not able to do that.  They must have told her help was coming, and she again lost consciousness.  The police officer thanked me and motioned for me to move away just before the ambulance came.  At that point, the young man took off his jacket and replaced mine with his.  I returned to my bike, but stayed until the ambulance attendants loaded her.  When they arrived they removed his jacket, and without doing any sort of assessment, put the sandwich board around her, and loaded her. 

All the while I was trying to comfort her, I kept glancing back at my bike to assure it stayed put, together with my groceries.  After a couple of minutes of being with her, I started hearing “lau wei ..., lau wei ...” and occasionally, “nan wei”, as people noted the old foreigner providing care, and recognized that I was probably “lau shir” (teacher) from the sweatshirt I was wearing, a part of my school’s casual uniform.  As he replaced my jacket with his, the young man bowed his thanks with the “prayer gesture” of respect that people here use; before I left the police officer came to me and said “thank you”, and a couple of other bystanders also came directly to me, making the same motion and saying “thank you” or “xi xi nie” (thank you very much).  As I stood by my bike, waiting for the ambulance to arrive, many of the bystanders gave me a thumbs up, and expressed their strong approval.  Their gratitude brought tears to my eyes, as sometimes and in some ways, foreigners are thought to be taking advantage of good times in China, and not ``giving back``.  I am so glad I learned the other day the difference between `bu ka chi`` (don`t be so polite) and ``mei si`` (it`s nothing, really``).  I had multiple occasions to repeat `mei si`, ``mei si``.  I almost wish I had been wearing a Canadian flag!

Later, though, my student explained that too often, people giving unsolicited aid in such situations, end up the brunt of reprimand and interrogation.  He told me the gap between the rich and the poor has become very great in China, and people are said to fake accidents in order to solicit payments from an alleged perpetrator.  I have heard of this several times.  I explained our ``good Samaritan`` or ``duty to rescue`` principle in law.  I am glad I went to her aid.  I think I provided the comfort she needed.  But how did I come to be there, at that place, at that time?

 

Seven Generations - Small World Nov 11/12

November 11, 2012

Twenty years ago in Xuzhou I stayed overnight at the Nanjing Teachers University in the Foreign Experts accommodations. In the common area we had a conversation with an older gentleman, about 70 at the time, and got into the usual conversation about past experiences. He had studied Philosophy, at Queen's, as I recall. Who was your prof,`` we asked. Yup, his prof was none other than Tony Mardiros. And I recalled, fondly, that Tony was the best teacher he`d ever had because his questions and discussions were so thought provoking.

A week ago a colleague of mine, a Physics teacher, and our school`s revered token PhD, mentioned he was from Prince Rupert, among many other places he had lived, taught, and worked. I thought he might have run into David, and asked if the name Mardiros meant anything to him. Yes, he said, it was a name he thought of often. There had been an esteemed philosophy prof at the University of Alberta in whose home he had had the honour of visiting while he was heavily involved in the Ban the Bomb campaign. Dr. Jim Johnson has been teaching here at the Nanjing Foreign Languages School for about 5 years now, and remembers Tony very fondly.  

Jim mentioned the time was the early '60's and recalled a little RCMP statuette Tony had on the dining room table because he had just learned he was on their "watch" list, and wanted to tell others of the regard some other Canadians held him in. In fact, Tony noted, he was held in such esteem that there was regularly an RCMP plant in his classrooms, not the green kind but the very blue Tory kind.

Jim is a delightful fellow.  He has a very dry quiet sense of humour, is very reflective, observant and cryptic.  He reminds me of Eric.  He wastes no words.