Foreword for Dr. Godfree Roberts's book

Dr. Godfree Roberts writes many well researched articles about China. 

He asked me to write a short anecdote about China for his book. He wanted something to soften his non-fiction book which is full of hard data and graphs. I submitted the following.

It was January 1981. I finally got to see the land where my parents and my parents' parents and their parents scratched out an existence for millennia, surviving through constant floods, famines, plagues, and wars. Growing up in colonial Hong Kong and being brought up Catholic in an exclusive boys-only English school, China was so near and yet so far away. By 1981, I had already started a career and a family in my newly adopted country of Canada. China was as foreign and distant to me as Timbuktu. 
 
I stepped off the train with the trepidation that normally accompanied foolhardiness. In those days, traveling with a foreign passport in China was restricted to a few major cities, namely Guangzhou, Shanghai, and Beijing. With the help of a friend of a friend, a bit of blind faith, and my handsome Chinese face, I decided to smuggle myself to Changsha, a city which was off limits to foreigners. I was young, foolish, and adventurous. To me, the whole exercise was harmless fun. I was protected by the invincible armor of ignorance and good fortunes. It turned out that the Chinese Communist Party had more pressing matters to deal with than worry about a Chinese Canadian in Changsha.
 
I tried to blend in with the crowd but my jeans gave me away immediately. Everyone wore blue and grey. No one wore jeans. There were probably no jeans in China. I was advised by the hotel staff not to dine outside of the hotel, suggesting ominously that it would not be safe. Since I was already breaking major rules to be in Changsha, I wasn't going to let a fear-monger stop me from eating wherever I wanted. In fact, just to prove that I was fiendishly clever, I invited the staff to dine with me at any local culinary establishment except the hotel. 
 
We ended up in a canteen which was converted from a performance hall with a stage. There were probably fifty tables each seating four. The dishes were simple, tasty, and inexpensive. The place was packed during dinner hours. When I wanted to order rice, the waiter said that rice was free, and that it was self-served. A gigantic vat of steamed rice was placed on the stage and patrons lined up with a bowl to get their own rice. There was an unlimited supply of free rice. Only in a communist country, I said to myself. 
 
I also noticed something very odd. Standing against the walls of the hall were men, women, and children with their bowls. They wore clean clothing, and they just stood there quietly without causing discomfort to the diners. As I finished my rice and put down the bowl, several people who were standing at the wall nearest us began to walk slowly and orderly towards us. There was no rush; there was no jostling; and no one tried to cut in. The first to arrive was a family of three. The child was perhaps seven or eight years of age. They were well-kempt and respectably dressed. The father asked politely if we were done. I was perplexed. The hotel staff who was dining with me then told me the truth. It turned out that there had been a flood of the Yellow River in Henan province. Many peasants lost their homes, their fields, and their crops. Some of the refugees were moved to Changsha where the local government would have to help resettle them. In the past, this would have been disastrous. Many victims of the flood would have starved to death or would be sold to slavery. Instead, they survived by eating free rice and leftovers. 
 
I watched in wonder as the family put some of the leftovers on their rice, thanked us, and walked away. They knew two young men were lined up behind them, so they left some of the leftovers for the young men. I did not see any police or government officials organizing these refugees. They seemed to be following some form of natural law that allowed the young, the old, and the weak to eat first. There was unlimited rice, so no one needed to go hungry. As for the leftovers, everyone lined up at one table seemed to be able to mentally allot a share for everyone at the queue. I did not feel that these people were beggars or that they did anything that was undignified. Quite the contrary, I was totally impressed by how they were able to share food orderly, and how they comported themselves with dignity. 
 
I could not know that twenty years later, I would return to Changsha to do my first project building a digital television production facility for Changsha Television Station. The Changsha I saw again was a bustling city with lots of foreign businessmen coming and going. At the start of the twenty-first century, China's economy was just beginning to take flight. I would experience the fighting and jostling and chaos trying to get a McDonald's hamburger meal that would cost a dinner for four at a local canteen. China would change beyond recognition, and it would continue to change. I would end up spending nearly two decades working in China, traveling all over the country, and learning all about China and its people. There is much about China that I have grown to love, but I cherish most of all the memory of that China in a Changsha canteen so many years ago.