The Pulse Of China

Monday, Jun. 29, 1998 By TERRY MCCARTHY ON THE YANGTZE
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"My parents are worried," she says about her new mobility, "but they have not forbidden me. Compared with their generation, maybe I am lucky. I can choose for myself." Like many her age, Lei spends little time thinking about politics. When pressed about the reforming Premier Zhu Rongji, she says only, "People around me say he will make China stronger." Her real concern is the slump in tourism from Asia's economic crisis. "But tomorrow will be better," she says cheerfully. "I trust in China."

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The Qianlong is moored for the night at Wushan, and next to it at the dock is a large boat with a neon sign for WUSHAN GODDESS ENTERTAINMENT CITY. Gambling is illegal in China, but this is a casino, open all day, with high-low dice games, blackjack and bingo. Laid-off workers crowd the tables, spending their last renminbi on a few rolls of the dice. The casino is run by an overweight Hong Konger who wears expensive jeans and a heavy gold watch but doesn't want to give his real name. Neither do his two formidable-looking bodyguards. "I had to put in a lot of money to get this," he says, watching the flow of chips across the dice table, "mostly to pay off the local officials. And they will probably shut it down in a couple of months anyway. I have done it in a Beijing suburb and in Tianjin already. They shut me down there too." Gambling? "If you want to win, you have to struggle."

The farther from Beijing, the weaker the law. In Dachang, a pleasant farming town up the Daning River, which flows into the Yangtze at Wushan, postmaster Wen Daquan is quick to voice his concerns. Dachang will be completely flooded by the new dam, and the government has said it will pay for everyone to be relocated. "First of all, each person was to get 10,000 renminbi ($1,250) each. Now the local officials are saying it will be just 7,000 renminbi. They will try to keep the rest." The new land is on top of a mountain, so it will not be nearly so good for farming as the rich alluvial soil they till now by the river's edge. "Everyone here is angry," he says.

They are not angry in New Zigui City, half a day's journey downriver. With its shiny new apartment buildings and broad streets, the town looks as if it has been dropped from the sky onto a hilltop above the site of the new dam. It will replace the quaint old town of Zigui, which will be inundated. And good riddance too, according to Feng Wanhu, a local teacher. "It was dirty, cramped. I lived in a house that was just 10 sq m [100 sq. ft.]. It had no bathroom, no running water, no kitchen inside... Here is much better." Feng's new home is 900 sq. ft., and he bought it for $5,000, which he borrowed from the bank. He has two bedrooms and all the amenities he lacked before. And now he is giving a banquet in the new hotel to celebrate the birth of his first son. Money is flowing into the town because of all the dam-construction work, and as he circulates among the tables with a bottle of rice liquor and good-luck eggs boiled in red dye, his guests are aglow with dreams for the future. He pauses to offer a toast: "I hope my son will have a happy life."