Travel Sized Bites.
A selection of short stories submitted by visitors to the site between 500-1000 words
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undercover in china
By Author: Peter W. Morris
E-mail: petertraveler@usa.net
Submitted on Tuesday 30th October 2001
"Just act the part of a tourist, and make sure that you never, ever tell anybody you’re a Baptist missionary!"
The assignment sounded exciting, although pre-journey warnings kept ringing in my ears. "Don’t make contact with our permanent missionaries," noted Robert, who’d also given me the honor of infiltrating China’s masses of humanity. "To do so would only cause you to be expelled from the country, but it could mean imprisonment—or worse—for our people." Advised Cho, a native Chinese Christian, "You will be followed; everybody’s followed." And, "Don’t carry anything which might identify you as a missionary or let anyone see you praying," came the stern admonition from Jim, a Hong Kong-based co-worker.
My adrenalin had begun to race early in the preparations for China...real James Bond stuff...and me a Walter Mitty-cross between Sean Connery and Indiana Jones! The assignment for this missionary photojournalist? "Blend-in; take photos of everything that moves and half of what doesn’t."
From the get-go, I knew I was in trouble. Most tourists look, well, like tourists...floppy hats, outrageous shirts, sensible shoes, and all carrying point-and-shoots or video cams. I, on the other hand, carry on my well-over six-foot-two, 285-pound frame a Domke Bag filled with Nikon F5s, lenses, flashes and 125-rolls of 36-exposure transparency film. Did I mention the epaulet-crowned safari shirts and lace-up hiking boots...in a country where people are constantly removing footwear?
Blend-in? So much so that the polite-and-petite Chinese people themselves—singles, couples, entire families—were continuously asking if they might have their pictures taken at my side. Upon the Great Wall, for instance, a young black policewoman from Florida asked, with some bewilderment, "Why’s everybody wanting to take my picture...and why with you?" My reply seemed a bit obvious, "Because I’m a giant in a land of midgets, and you’re the only black woman within 2000 miles."
It was no wonder, feeling trapped in a spy-verses-spy B-movie, with a hundred-million pairs of eyes attentive to every move, that awkwardness became a well-worn part of my persona.
At first, the plan was to join a tour group from the United States, but it was soon clear that these city-a-day shopping sprees were too pricey for a "servant’s pocketbook." Giving up, with hopes of securing less pricey itineraries upon arrival in Hong Kong, the flight was boarded. I’d been given the name of a Hong Kong-based travel agent and told, "Nancy (her English name) is a Christian; you can trust her."
Nancy was also a miracle worker, although her coziness with China’s governmental tourist bureau, CITS, seemed a bit too good to be true. Within days, I was relaxing, in a well-appointed private room, aboard an express train enroute to Beijing. Upon arrival, a black mini-limo with a private driver and English-speaking guide awaited...two gentlemen who, it was learned, would cater to my every whim.
There were also an endless supply of five-star hotels, well prepared meals with overly-attentive waitresses, and a masseuse available 24-hours a day...and all for one-half the cost of what a packaged tour would have set me back stateside.
Although I kept imagining I’d get to the end of this trek only to have my film confiscated upon boarding the flight home, this was never to happen. In fact, this Mission To China turned out to be the most perfect of traveling experiences. Never once was I denied images of temples, palaces, slum dwellings or even nuclear reactors. Visiting dignitaries and street people alike came before my Nikons; and markets offering everything from red meats encrusted with stable flies to chicken heads and fresh dogs (their tails a waggin’) became easily captured subjects. The sights, sounds, and smells—the continual rush of humanity and exotic subject matter—provided endless photo-ops. It all proved a photographer’s paradise.
The only snag, be it momentary, came when a temperamental seafood merchant, his bloody hands grasping a dozen slimy green eels, decided he didn’t think much of having his image recorded. My faithful guide, most certainly an undercover-someone himself, sternly explained to the vendor, "He’s with The China Daily News; leave him alone!" We all laughed...all but the embarrassed and highly intimated fish monger.
The story ends happily, with the processed film now in the hands of those who can use it most in the evangelizing of Asia’s mightiest nation.
As for China, less than two-weeks after my departure, they were chosen to host the 2008 Olympic Games.