Category Archives: shenzhen fieldnotes

月亮湾： remnants

Posted on by

gate, nanyuan village

the nantou peninsula juts into the pearl river delta just above hong kong. the houhai land reclamation project takes place along the southern coast, stretching east toward mangrove natural preserve. historically, the southern coast was unprotected from taiphoons and pirates, and so the nantou villages huddled along the yueliang harbor (月亮湾) on the northern coast of the nantou penisula. each village had it’s own pier, where fishing boats anchored. a narrow road that stretched from the county seat at nantou market (today “nine streets”) to shekou linked each village to its neighbor, and then curved around nanshan mountain toward shekou and then chiwan. the road was divided up by gates, which were once locked at night, but now stand as reminder of previous loyalties and social worlds.

in the eighties, after village lands had been appropriated (征用) by state and newly established shenzhen ministries, the villages were left with plats of land(宅地) for each male villager, his sons, and grandsons as well as land for collective economy. this land became the basis of the new villages. now, in nantou, this system of giving out plats to people with extant land as well as to their sons and grandsons, who had not yet built homes, resulted in a particular landscape. on the one hand, there are identifiable sections of new village of colorfully tiled 3 to 8 story buildings. these areas were built on farmland, which was planned in that each eligible villager received exactly one hundred sq meters. pressed up against each other, these buildings occupy all of the space, except for a narrow alley in between each building. indeed, they are so close, neighbors can reach across the alley and shake their neighbor’s hand. on the other hand, there remain old buildings, which the owners have not yet razed and replaced. these buildings are now used for commercial storage or as small workshops.

the new villages as did the old villages, once nestled along yueliang wan. the point of this entry is simply that yueliang harobor has now been successfully reclaimed. the first street, which winds along the former coast is called, ironically enough, qianhai road (前海路). another, larger road yueliang harbor road now stretches along the much straightened coast. as the harbor has been filled, the villages have been surrounded by upscale housing developments, creating familiar “basins” on nantou. specifically, the city has surrounded the countryside, hidden it from view.

south of the nantou penisula villages, cars rush along nanxin road toward five-star hotels and 30-story condo buildings. north of the villages, cars speed home on qianhai road. indeed, for several years now, nantou has been considered a white-collar haven. inside the villages, shenzhen’s original residents live on one floor of their handshake homes, renting the rest of the space, including old buildings to migrants, who can’t afford to live on either nanxin or qianhai roads. within the narrow alleyways of the new villages, original shenzhen peasents and rural migrants from the rest of china have recreated rural chinese markets within the belly of shenzhen’s capitalist beast. i walked east from nanyuan village toward guimiao road, passing through nanyuan, beitou, xiangnan, and duntou villages. contradictions posted here.

only four years ago

Posted on by

Saturday, all day, dreary clouds flattened Shekou grey. Trucks rumbled through landfill dust, which coated pedestrians and fengshui trees, parked cars and potted plants. I walked to the Dongjiaotou Port Area (东角头港区), located on the eastern edge of Shekou, where once upon a time, workers unloaded building materials shipped from Foshan and Shunde. Only 4 years ago, I photographed fishing boats berthed where today the Peninsula residential development rises in the shadow of the western corridor bridge, which will link western Shekou to Hong Kong. Yes, these were the fishing boats that used to supply Shekou’s fresh seafood restaurants (大排挡). And yes, the Peninsula is part of the move to gentrify Shekou. I’m not sure if it’s the weather, the inevitable dust, the scale of the change, or D all of the above that has me feeling bereft, but today, I didn’t want to look. Below, two views of Dongjiaotou, one circa 2003, the other circa 2007. More comparisons, more dust, and a few detours into Old Shekou side streets, here.


fishing boat harbor, dongjiaotou west (facing nanshan), 2003


new road, dongjiaotou west (facing nanshan), 2007

stem cell therapy in nanshan

Posted on by

what we don’t know about where we live.

it turns out that nanshan hospital, yes the nanshan hospital where i went for chinese medical treatments in the late nineties, the same nanshan hospital located just up the street from shenzhen university, where i lived and taught for years, is a center of stem cell therapy. indeed, it seems they recruit patiants abroad for treatments that they can’t get in their own country. an articlein businessweek introduces the controversy surrounding the work. or you can check out the shenzhen beike biotechnology website.

i’m sitting here stunned. not by my own ignorance, which increasingly feels like my most loyal companion, nor even by this version of shenzhen’s rush to an international future, which has been the city’s raison d’tre for over 25 years now, nor even, truth be told, by the ways the beike company seems to be exploiting these stories; testimonial advertizing is one of the traditions of my native land. no, i’m simply stunned. i don’t know how to comment on these stories, their existance, they way they circulate, how they are used. i’m grasping for a theory to explain what seems to be happening and the theory isn’t coming, or isn’t there to call up.

perhaps i just don’t know where to draw the ethical line. i don’t know if i’m for or against untested therapy. if for it, i know i’d support universal access, rather than letting the market determine access. if there’s not enough money or stem cells for everyone who needs treatment to get it, does that mean the treatment should be stopped until equal access is possible?

in the meantime, i turn to the comforts of close reading. one of the more fascinating aspects of this whole process is the role of the internet. patients have blogged and blog about their experiences, including pre-treatment conditions, what the treatment is like, and post-treatment improvements/regressions. the stories themselves are moving–from hopelessness to hope, and the courage that moves them. and yet. i’m stunned.

you can find a blogroll of these testimonial blogs at the beike site. i first stumbled upon these blogs through richard’s venture, a new blog. many of the patients use blogspot, which is blocked in the mainland, but if you’re reading this and in the mainland, you know how to get around the firewall. if not, does anyone know of chinese-language sites about beike? or is it a company that is designed to bring foreigners to china, kinda of like the adoption centers in guangzhou? another international practice that leaves me stunned.

赤湾天后宫：vexed tradition

Posted on by

tianhou brigade

In 2004, the Tianhou Museum and the Nanshan Mazu Culture Research Association edited a volume of couplets and poetry that had been written in honor of the Tianhou. There were two first place couplets:

赤湾伊始，敞帮门，发舟旅，西洋七下，铺开海上丝绸路；
天后岂终，携郑坚，邀邓公，南洋千寻，赢得人间锦锈春。（作者：种显泽）
(In the beginning, Chiwan opened its gates, sent out Zheng He’s ships to the four oceans, establishing the maritime Silk Road;
In the end, Tianhou lead Minister Zheng, greeted Lord Deng, a southern port of 1,000 miles, earning a brilliant spring.　by: Zhong Xianze)

赤湾旭日膦人精，
天后慈云笼海疆。（作者：吴北如）
(Chiwan dawns, looks toward humanity,
Tianhou’s benevolent clouds cover the seas.　by: Wu Rubei)

These two poems illustrate the contradiction between official culture and local belief that enables the Chiwan Tianhou Temple to operate. Legally, the Temple grounds constitute the Tianhou Museum, where the Nanshan Mazu Culture Research Association is based. Specifically, in Shenzhen, the largest and most public temples are officially museums and research centers. However, the contributions and activities of believers sustain the spaces as temples, especially on important holidays. Thus, in the first poem (and it was actually the gold first prize, the second poem was the silver first prize) emphasizes the Temple’s political importance, linking the voyages of the Ming eunich Zheng He to the open policies of Deng Xiaoping. In contrast, the second poem celebrates Tianhou’s divine benevolence.

Helen Hsu and others have written about the post-Mao resurgence of tradition throughout Guangdong. In Shenzhen, this resurgence has taken an interesting twist precisely because even though there are locals working to promote Tianhou, the museum and research association have been headed by immigrants from northern cities. Consequently, the two poems don’t only manifest a contradiction between “official” and “unofficial” culture—although many westerners like to paint Chinese public life in terms of an opposition between the Party and everybody else—but also between urban and rural belief systems, as well as northern and southern traditions. For most of the museum and research staff (and there are fewer then there were when I first went to the museum in 1997), allowing people to burn incense is a concession to local superstition. And yes, northern urban attitudes about Guangdong traditions can be as condescending as it sounds. Publicly, however, they take the route of the first poem, understanding Cantonese history and traditions within the scope of imperial China. At the same time, the few believers I’ve talked to, follow the route of the second poem, focusing on belief, and remaining quiet on the issue of national politics.

That said, there’s enough history at Chiwan’s Tianhou Temple to satisfy everyone, unless of course you don’t care about either imperial history or Tianhou’s benevolence. The temple was built at the end of the Song Dynasty, but achieved national prominence during the Ming Dynasty, when the Minister Zheng He led his famous maritime voyages to establish a maritime trade routes. During the second expedition, he and his crew ran into inclement weather of the coast of the Nantou Peninsula. Zheng He promised to restore the temple in return for Tianhou’s help in surviving the storm. She did help him and in the 8th year of the reign of the Yongle Emperor (1410), the Chiwan Tianhou Temple was restored.

The fame of the Chiwan Tianhou’s benevolence spread throughout the country and throughout the Ming and Qing Dynasties, believers—both official and unofficial, northern and southern, but all predominantly sailors or fishermen—continued to restore and add to the temple. At the beginning of the Nationalist era, Chiwan was the largest Tianhou temple in Guangdong with over one hundred and twenty buildings in the complex. Once the communists liberated Bao’an County (Shenzhen’s territorial precursor), the PLA moved into the facilities. In 1959-1960, many of the wood, tiles, and bricks from the temple were used to construct the Shenzhen Reservoir. It was only in 1992, that the recently established Nanshan District government began to restore the temple. The museum was officially opened in 1997 as part of efforts to prepare for the return of Hong Kong to Chinese sovereignty. It was, as many said at the time, recognition of the common cultural origins of Shenzhen and Hong Kong.

This weekend was the first time I had been back in a while. Not a believer, I chafe at paying the 15 rmb museum entrance fee, when the museum isn’t all that great. However, the changes suggest that elegant political poetry notwithstanding, the believers have slowly taken over and there may be times when visiting Tianhou is worth the price of admission. There are now monks on duty, telling fortunes and instructing people how to pray. There are rooms filled with multiple castings of the same god, where believers light incense. And one of the museum exhibition rooms has been turned over to photographs of important religious events at the temple, the largest being Tianhou’s birth on the 23 day of the third lunar month (this year, may 9). Indeed, the photography seems much in the spirit of the poetry competition: the museum staff’s attempt to get control of the space back, this time through public cultural events.

According to the Xin’an County Gazetteer, the Chiwan Tianhou Temple once held pride of place in the eight scenic areas of Xin’an (Bao’an County’s name during the Ming and Qing Dynasties). The other seven were: 梧岭天池，杯渡禅宗，参山乔木，卢山桃李，龙穴楼台，螯洋甘瀑，玉律汤湖. I don’t know what or where most of those sites are (although wuling must mean the wutong mountains in the east) and look forward to mapping them. However, what’s interesting here is the way historic records follow names rather than places. History as documentation and re-inscription with a vengence. In 1983, when the SEZ was established as administratively separate from New Bao’an County, all of the history from Bao’an county moved into Bao’an, even though most of that history had taken place in (what is now) Nanshan District. Chiwan, Shekou, and the County Seat at Nantou were the important historical sites. However, to find out pre-reform information on them, one must cross the second line into (what is now) Bao’an District and head to the Bao’an District Library. I remember talking with the editor of the last ever Bao’an Gazetteer. He did his research and oral history throughout the SEZ, but his office was in Bao’an County. At the time, I needed to carry my passport with me so that I could cross back into the SEZ after a visit. Of course, this is simply another variation on history in the Pearl River Delta, where scholars of Hong Kong history continue to refer to the SAR’s territorial precursor as Xin’an, without noting that the name changed in 1913. (Sometimes I suspect that Shenzheners’ attempts to annex Hong Kong by way of historical documentation is only matched by Hong Kong people’s efforts to write themselves as historically distinct from Shenzhen. Everyone sidesteps the issue by writing these historic trajectories from the Opium War on, where Hong Kong grows out of Xin’an, and then Shenzhen emerges out of Bao’an.)

This time, I kept noticing industrial parallels between the containers stacked up just outside the Temple Gate or loaded just beyond the Temple Walls and the brigades of god images. Little statues of Tianhou, Guanyin, and the God of Wealth were everywhere and never just one, instead in any room, there were shelves of the same statue, almost like a religious market, except they were all receiving incense. Brigades on view here. Questions about the vexed relationship between political-economy and faith, merely posed.

found objects: houhai

Posted on by

this entry unites two of my obsessions: discarded objects and the houhai land reclamation project.


looking from old coastline toward the houhai land reclamation

in shekou, the land reclamation project continues, with new housing developments popping up like mushrooms after a spring rain, so to speak. like any good mushroom, these developments thrive in dark and fetid spaces, only to be washed up and presented as luxuries. the first step in growing a development mushroom is razing whatever came before (in the sense of shenzhen history: this entry presupposes that the rural has already been displaced). what came before is usually narrow, one-story high temporary concrete structures, which functioned as residences and small businesses (more or less from the 1980a), but also more substantial, once-upon-a-time intended for the long haul, housing (late 80s, early 90s).

step two in cultivating mushrooms is picking through the rubble, scavanging whatever might still be of use–plastic can be sold, as can metals. as i stepped through the remains, i found a small clay teapot and picked it up. one of the pickers yelled at me in a henan dialect that i didn’t understand. when i asked if she wanted the teapot, however, she said no, adding in mandarin, “it can’t be sold.” she wasn’t interested in talking with me, lugging her scavagings to a truck, where a man weighed and bought them.

pickers, like this woman, move onto the temporary rubble heaps, setting up campsites that blend into the rubble. indeed, the campsites are difficult to distinguish from the garbage. the tents are made from the same plastic the pickers are scavanging and the kitchens seem burnt piles of stuff. but looking closely (or prying as the case may be), i saw fresh vegetables, packaged foods, and soap, although no source of fresh water. at this site, there were two campsites, and each had a separate stove. lucky pickers have a bicycle to cart findings to collection stations, where they can sell them.

step three, of course, is the arrival of construction crews. images of objects found while others picked, here.

signs of various kinds

Posted on by

it’s not easy being a prostitute

back in shenzhen, wandering the streets of shekou, reorienting myself to newly paved roads and recently razed sites. signs of all kinds assault the eyes: graffiti (of varying quality), the ubiquitous advertizing (even garbage cans can be rented to eager merchants), and, of course, deng xiaoping’s calligraphy, which once confirmed reform and now is itself advertizing for the seaworld plaza. a selection of signs, here.

leaving north carolina

Posted on by

back road, moore county, north carolina

carolina sky, sharp and clear in the winter, set-off by stark pines, uplifting tired eyes. images here.

Happy Year of the Pig

Posted on by

saturday, feb 18 is the first day of the year of the pig. as far as i know, everyone is looking forward to a fat year: get rich young piglets. i found these messages more difficult to translate than the solar new messages, because they’re not only more punny, but also more culturally specific; understanding the joke requires knowing lots about what pigs mean in chinese culture. anyway, the joke, of course, is always the pig’s identity. i’m in north carolina, but friends have generously forwarded lunar new year’s greetings. here are three text messages making rounds in shenzhen:

瞎子
算命极准
众人抬来褪过毛的
你伙伴让他算。
瞎子
摸后大喜，道：
臀宽肚圆，是个党员；
脸大眼小, 是个领导；
细皮嫩肉，正在保鲜。。。

the blind person
tells super accurate fortunes.
a crowd brings over the trussed up, de-haired one
to have it’s fortune told.
the blind person
upon rubbing [the pig] says happily:
a fat butt and round belly, you’re a party member;
a round face and small eyes, you’re a leader;
fine skin and soft flesh, you’re keeping fresh.

here, the joke hinges on the line 众人抬褪过毛的 which implies a trussed up, de-haired pig that has been brought to market. however, the 的 makes the pig implicit, because the next character is the pronoun “you”. the final pun is between keep fresh and keep the avant-garde party line.

猪的四大理想： 四周篱笆全撒掉， 天上纷纷掉饲料， 地球屠夫死翘翘， 世界人民信回教。 感谢猪先生对人类做出的贡献！ 希望肉价不要在上涨。

a pig’s four ideals: fences on all four sides have been knocked down, feed continuously falls from heaven, all the earth’s butcher’s die with four limbs straight up, all the world becomes muslim. thanks to mr. pig for their contributions to humanity! hoping that meat prices don’t go up.

this one rhymes, is easy to memorize, and contains great images. i didn’t get the muslim line until yang qian explained that muslims don’t eat pork! i knew that but… i had been thinking in religious terms, where the joke is that for most han chinese, muslims are defined by the fact that they eat lamb and don’t eat pork. yang qian kept chortling, “all the world becomes muslim, of course pigs would be happy!”

２００７猪年守则
吃嘛嘛香－－－－猪的食欲。
睡哪哪酣－－－－猪的睡眠。
面对挫折－－－－死猪不怕开水烫。
自信遗失－－－－猪鼻子里插葱：装象。
做事待人－－－－猪八戒被媳妇：肯花力气。
招财进宝－－－－发如肥猪，少生疾病多养猪！

2007 year of the pig resolutions [or to paraphrase bill murray in caddyshack: BE THE PIG]:
everything you eat, tastes good—-a pig’s appetite.
everywhere you sleep is comfortable—-a pig’s sleep.
when facing tribulations—-dead pigs don’t fear boiling water [1].
on loosing confidence—-insert scallions in the pig’s nostrils: pretend your an elephant [2].
when working and treating other people—-pig bajie carrying his wife on his back: be willing to work hard [3].
on getting rich—-get rich like a fat pig, don’t get sick and raise lots of piglets [4]!

the footnotes:

1. dead pigs don’t fear boiling water is a phrase used to criticize someone’s indifference to a matter that other’s care about.
2. the scallions are the pig’s “trunk”. the phrase 装象 puns 装像, an expression that means to fake it.
3. an allusion to “journey to the west”, pig bajie wanted a wife and so carried any woman on his back to see if they liked him.
4. 猪 pig puns 珠, the word for pearl.

happy chinese new year!

wintersun, charlottesville, va

Posted on by

skyward branches

i shared a snowday with my nieces and nephew in charlottesville, va, a life so far from shenzhen that i often can’t put my worlds together. not in any coherent way. when in charlottesville, i don’t remember much about shenzhen. while in shenzhen, i often forget how to walk from my brother’s house to the nearby trail. and yet the pictures all line up next to each other on this blog. enjoy the wintersun

for it is thou

Posted on by

for it is thou

before boarding a plane back to north carolina, shirley and i enjoyed a sunday afternoon with the dead in st. michael’s catholic cemetery, happy valley, hong kong. shirley memntioned that local graves have been moved for building projects; we speculated on how safe the cemetary was from developers. but mostly we walked in restful silence. shenzhen now has commercial cemetaries that cater to hong kong and taiwanese families seeking resting ground. for a price, of course. what’s more, most chinese people don’t spend sunday afternoons with dead strangers, preferring to visit relatives and friends on specific days. quite obviously, cemetaries are for the living and the living have different relationships to the dead. and yet. i begin to think that the point might be otherwise, or rather think that the point cannot be reduced to cross cultural ethnology, although such analysis helps and is more often than not fascinating, but rather the point is to ask what death teaches each of us, here, today. r.i.p.