Zenon Dolnyckyj
Chapter 4: Arriving in China
Captain: We will be arriving in Beijing shortly, if you look to your left you
will see the Great Wall of China.
Everyone murmured: “What’s that fog?” I glanced down to see the
notorious Beijing smog. I never thought it was as bad as everyone said it was.
But it was worse. Before I knew it we had landed and the moment of truth was
approaching – Beijing Customs.
While I was waiting in line that all-too-familiar feeling, fear – that I had
apparently obliterated – was surfacing again, and fast. Not only was it still
alive but it was making my heart pump pretty heavily. By the time it was my
turn, it felt like my heart was beating so fast and hard that it was going to
deliver a series of rabbit punches to the head of the customs agent. He typed
my information into the computer, asked no questions and then waved me along.
Despite my success, I was in complete shock. It was just too easy. I got my
luggage and left the airport in a taxi. On the way to the hotel I saw three
policemen walking rather briskly in a diamond formation towards a building.
I thought, “For sure they are going to get someone.” The mere sight
of them sent a chill through my bones.
I found a cheap hotel in the South part of Beijing. When I got to my room I
sat in a small chair feeling a little alone not sure what to do. I walked around
the room, looked at the washroom then out the window and realized that I was
out of sorts, aimlessly walking around my small hotel room. I sat down to collect
my thoughts.
I had always wondered, if and when I went to China, what it would be like to
be with so many practitioners. I remember my first time ever going to a Falun
Dafa Experience Sharing Conference. It was in February 1999. The conference
was being held at the California Institute of Technology. The speeches that
the practitioners gave really touched my heart. They were genuinely sacrificing
their own personal interests for the higher principle of Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance.
They shared the trying ordeals life had dealt them and how they were able to
endure these hardships and move their hearts to a more lofty and benevolent
state. When I heard people’s personal processes of transformation and transcendence
I was moved to tears. Everyone was so selfless and light-hearted. People were
cleaning up after each other, carrying things for each other, laughing and talking
playfully with the lightest of hearts.
The day was beautiful, sunny but not hot. I don’t know if you have ever
seen the Caltech campus but it has big beautiful fountains and plush, full gardens
everywhere. In these kinds of surroundings, on such a beautiful day with such
beautiful people, I really felt like I was in a “heaven on earth.”
Now here I was in China, the country where Falun Dafa was first brought to the
public and first flourished to millions upon millions of people. The country
with the greatest number of practitioners and it was impossible to see even
one of them. Even if they wanted to see me I wouldn’t bring them any danger.
I was fearful that the only reason I was let into the country was to be used
as bait to lead the authorities to local Falun Dafa practitioners who were in
hiding.
By November 2001 the persecution had become so severe that practitioners were
being hunted. They continued to keep creating flyers and giving them out on
the streets to people and to let them know that this persecution was not a justified
crackdown but a vicious persecution of innocent people. This only intensified
the efforts to wipe out Falun Gong, thus making it a very dangerous situation.
Practitioners caught were sure to face beatings, torture and, oftentimes, death
for refusal to stop practicing Falun Dafa.
I began to remember why I was there and my mind became clearer. Although my
fatigue was trying to coerce me into bed, a day was already lost in travel and
the trip to the Great Wall, where I was going meet Joel, was the very next day.
The place to catch the bus to the Great Wall was clear on the map but I wanted
to go there the night before so as to be sure I wouldn’t have any problems
the next morning. So I went down stairs and rented a bicycle. The “bicycle
girl” was soft, sweet and a pleasure to talk to until she said 400 Yuan.
400 YUAN! I thought, “Isn’t 500 Yuan the average monthly income?”
Zenon: 400 Yuan too much.
Speaking soft and sweet
Bicycle Girl: No
Zenon: Oh, yes, yes
I interrupted.
Bicycle Girl: No, no, no
Still soft and sweet
Zenon: 50 Yuan.
I interrupted again.
Bicycle Girl: No, no, no
Still soft and sweet.
I thought to myself, why is she still smiling and being so polite?
Then she explains that when I give the bicycle back she will give me the 400
Yuan back.
Zenon: OOHH a deposit. OK.
Man, did I ever feel stupid. The feeling only got worse when she told me that
the rental cost was 4 Yuan (less than one Canadian dollar). She could have taken
me for 50 Yuan.
Tiananmen Square was the first stop. Getting familiar with the Square was high
on my priority list and the bus stop wasn’t too far from there, especially
by bicycle.
At this point I was excited by the prospect of going for a leisurely tour,
but my fear had yet to be vanquished. When I got on the bicycle to ride away
my face was lit up with a goofy smile, but my knees were shaking so much that
I could barely ride the bicycle. I almost fell over. There was a policeman guarding
the hotel, and when I was trying to ride through the front gate, the guard was
holding his stomach laughing at me. I felt no embarrassment, just relief. He
didn’t know who I was; he didn’t know why I was there; he wasn’t
looking at me with a big angry look on his face, as it seems is the requirement
for most uniformed officers; and he wasn’t trying to arrest me. I just
rode down the road, smiling at everyone I saw. I must have looked so silly riding
around with this big goofy smile, but I didn’t care. The fear stopped weakening
my knees, but then sank deep into my bones.
While I was touring Tiananmen Square, it was peaceful; tourists were roaming
laughing and joking. Children where playing with kites, some playing soccer,
and others just ran around joyfully. As happy as they seemed, I couldn’t
help but feel sorry for them as their transient laughs were over in a fleeting
moment the second their breath finished. The viciousness of their President
and the true wonder of Falun Dafa all remained a concealed mystery to them.
The history of their beloved nation was being written unbeknownst to them.
After touring around Tiananmen Square and locating down the street the bus
pick-up for the Great Wall, I decided to go back to my hotel. After getting
lost for about an hour and a half, I found my hotel. It was about 12:30 AM,
and I hadn’t even started to make my banner to hang on the Great Wall yet.
So I pulled out one of my mother’s yellow pillowcases that she had given
me to make my banners. After tearing down the seams of the pillowcase it became
the perfect size for a large scroll. It was about 1.5 feet by about 4.5 feet.
I figured since I was in China, it would be better to make the banner a scroll,
writing from top to bottom. I was nervous when I was starting. It had been over
a year since some of my fellow practitioners from Toronto taught me how to write
Chinese. Just because I was taught doesn’t necessarily mean that I could
do it properly. It’s not easy.
My fellow Chinese practitioners in Toronto exercised great tolerance and restraint
in nurturing me in my early days of cultivation. I was still a live wire when
I first started practicing Falun Dafa. Some of them weren’t sure if I could
even have a clear enough mind to practice cultivation. They feared I had mental
problems. Sometimes during group studies with over 20 people, I would awaken
or enlighten to something really funny in my heart or mind and then proceed
to fill the room with hysterical laughter. Then without saying a word, I would
stop laughing and continue reading silently. They were left wondering. There
were other times my playful nature would get the better of me. One time at a
health show, I even began to tickle some women in front of their husbands. I
know this is not right even in Canada, but for Chinese you don’t even touch
a woman by accident, let alone tickle her in a public place in front of her
husband. But they saw my heart really wanting to cultivate in Falun Dafa, so
they tolerated my wild and rude behavior with patience and compassion. From
the bottom of my heart I thank them all.
A few Chinese practitioners and I spent so much time together they very naturally
began sharing with me so many beautiful things about the Chinese culture. They
shared how the Chinese view things in life, ancient stories of historical heroes,
songs and the most wonderful food too. The most welcoming thing about the Chinese
culture is that they refer to people younger or older than themselves, or people
close to them in age, as big or little brother or sister. If someone is noticably
older they are referred to as auntie or uncle. If even older they are “grandmother”
or “grandfather”. It was one big family I was joining. Everything
about them was so different then what I was used to. Despite my very extroverted
and Western manner, my heart felt like I was right in my home away from home
with Chinese people. It was very entertaining and insightful to laugh and learn
with all my new Chinese friends. Many times I would sit for hours with them
even when having no translation. It was just so nice to be with them. Gradually
I did want to know more and more until I decided I wanted to learn the language.
Some of the Chinese practitioners started to teach me simply from the kindness
of their own hearts. Their selfless nature was really touching. I asked them
to be really picky with my pronouciation and they certainly were. Speaking English
involves forming sounds into words by the precise shaping of the mouth while
the Chinese language is based on creating precise tones for each syllable which
has its own valued meaning. Most of these sounds I had never made before, even
when speaking Ukrainian. When learning pronunciation, practising for one straight
hour, parts of my brain that I had never felt before vibrated from making these
new sounds. My brain felt diluted, and I would giggle and laugh as if I had
had that one too many glasses of wine. My teacher and I would often end up playing
and joking like children throughout the lesson. After re-evaluating my approach
to learning Chinese, in light of where I was, I temporarily put off my study
but the basics of pronouciation never left me. Regardless of whether or not
the language was in my mind, the culture was now in my heart.
And now the moment of truth. There was only one chance with this inch and a
half wide paint filled marker and my mother’s pillowcase. There was a rumour
going around that there were cameras in the hotel rooms in China which naturally
didn’t soothe my paranoia at all. I didn’t trust the mirror so the
only place I could go where I felt safe was right in front of the door on the
floor. After about one and a half hours of some very steady work it was done.
I picked the banner up off the floor gave it a head nod for approval and hung
it up to dry. When I turnned around to look back at the floor in front of the
door my mouth dropped open and my eyes nearly jumped out of my head. On the
floor you could see the Chinese characters Fa Lun Da Fa Hao (Falun Dafa is good)
painted into the carpet. Panicking, I ran quickly into the washroom and grabbed
a bar of soap and then began to franticlly scrub the soap into the carpet. I
could see the bar of soap turning red. I ripped my shirt off and soaked it in
the sink and flew to the door landing on my knees scrubbing it in fast and hard
circles. Fortunately it all came out. In fact, I scrubbed so hard that the portion
of the carpet in front of the door was cleaner than the rest of the carpet in
the entire room.
By this point it was about three in the morning and I was quite tired – physically,
mentally and emotionally. Despite all of my emotional and mental distractions,
I was accomplishing what I needed to do, step by step. This was the feeling
that gave me peace when I finally lay down and closed my eyes.
As I lay there before falling asleep, I could feel my fear using every possible
chance to make me lose my footing. It tried to keep me down, but I just kept
moving forward. As unstable as I was, I had to continue forward. I felt as though
I had to help the people of China see what they can’t in their own country
– a Western Falun Dafa practitioner. It wasn’t enough for them to just
see my face, I wanted them to see my heart.
Category: Insights
