One Revolution Around The Globe

Every morning we began with rounds. The young Chinese doctors and I made our way from bed to bed in the long, crowded wards of Shanghai's most prominent general hospital. Set in the old part of the city, the Third People's Hospital stood far above the sea of brick houses that surrounded it. Although it was still early, the doors and windows were spread open to catch any breeze that might blow, for the heat was smoldering. Dr. Tao, our medical department chief, stood in the midst of our group. As we passed by the beds of our patients we discussed their care, one by one.

We paused at the side of one elderly man suffering from rheumatic fever. He lay on a rusty iron bed with a cushion under his head. He looked up with surprise as I approached to examine him.

"You are a foreigner!" he said in Chinese. "I have never had a foreign doctor before. This is quite unusual." I nodded and smiled, accustomed by now to Chinese reactions to my presence. "Why have you come to China?" he asked.

I could see the other doctors looking our way as they waited for my reply. I answered, "I am an American, a guest in your country. You Chinese have a very different social system and view of life from ours in America. I am curious to know about your people and customs. I have come to be your friend and learn from your people." I felt a little awkward with this reply, for it did not reveal all of my real intentions.

The man was taken aback. He shook his head and said, "In America, I am told, you have cars and magnificent entertainment and every kind of freedom. Most of these men here would give almost anything to go to America, yet you have come to us. This is strange indeed."

Dr. Tao and I hurried down a dark staircase in the ancient building and found our way to the bustling emergency room. There were hundreds standing in line in an open courtyard, waiting for treatment. In spite of the apparent disorder, we were directed to a corner, where we saw a pathetic figure lying on the bare floor. Several peasants stood around him. One said that the man's name was Li Ming.

He did not stir as we approached. His patched, bleached overalls were soaked with sweat, and his wet skin glistened in the dim light. Someone momentarily arrived with a stretcher, and Li Ming was carried to another room for treatment.

As we started an IV to provide drugs for his failing heart, I said to Dr. Tao, "This is strange. He seems to be suffering from a heart attack, but then why is his temperature 105 degrees? I have never seen an illness like this in America." My own heart was pounding from the excitement of facing my first real emergency case since my arrival in China a few weeks earlier.

Bent over his patient, probing with a stethoscope, Dr. Tao listened closely to Li's pounding heart. Then he straightened, removing the instrument from his ears before answering. "It is because his heart is infected with a virus. The virus damages and weakens the heart and makes it beat poorly. I understand that this condition is rare in your country, but here you will see this often. We will treat him with dan sun."

Puzzled, I shook my head. Then I said a familiar phrase, already used many times in my short time in China: "What is that? I never heard of it in my medical school."

"It is an herb that increases the strength of the heart," Dr. Tao explained. "We have many more traditional drugs like this. They can be better than any other medications you know about. Come now, we will give him a gram and see his response." The nurse standing by left for the pharmacy to get the drug, and Dr. Tao and I watched over the man.

"Where did you learn about these drugs?" I asked.

"It is part of the curriculum in our medical schools, along with anatomy, chemistry, and the rest," Tao said. "We also believe in a well-rounded education. As part of our training we also study politics in depth several hours a week. In class I have read the works of Marx and Mao Tse-tung. They are the principles we go by, but still, it's rather hard to apply the principles of dialectical materialism in the hospital."

"How interesting!" I replied. "My education was pretty sterile in comparison. So you actually dealt with questions of philosophy and politics in medical school. That seems very wise."

A shy nurse hovered behind us, waiting for our attention before she spoke. "A woman is here, who just came from the countryside. She says that she is the wife of your patient, Li Ming."

Behind her followed a very attractive woman dressed in green coveralls, with black hair braided into a ponytail that hung down her back. Canvas shoes covered her feet. When she saw Li, she cried out and hurried to his side. She clutched him and began to weep loudly.

Dr. Tao motioned to me to come close, and he said in a low voice, "Dr. Kong, here in China our spouses mean everything to us. We have a proverb that says that marriage is like having heaven on earth. She will cry, yet she will control her grief in a short time."

After a moment Li's wife looked up. She quickly brushed the tears from her eyes and regained her composure somewhat. Turning to me, she said in a clear voice, "I don't understand this. My husband's health has always been good. He has worked in the fields for years, and now he does not even recognize who I am." She paused and her lip began to quiver. "What can I tell our daughter?"

I touched her shoulder. It was hard to know what to say. "Li is a strong man. We will do all that we can to help him through this." I explained his condition to her, but I felt that my description did not help her much. I had always had trouble delivering bad news.

I awoke from an uncomfortable sleep and looked out of the window. The sky was as clear and blue as the sea below it. Looking up, I saw the moon still in plain view, and even some of the stars from the quickly fading night hanging on into the light of morning. Below, the sea was speckled with white caps that loomed larger as our jet descended toward the jagged coastline. Amid the mountains below perched a white city, spreading to engulf the tiny peninsula on which she sat. As I looked down, my pulse began to race. After years of preparation I was almost there! Hong Kong: the last outpost before China itself!

I was still breathless from the whirl of festivities and packing that surrounded graduation from medical school. Only two weeks earlier I had stood in robes with my class and taken the oath of physicians. We had sworn to be compassionate, to live by the highest morals, to be no respecter of persons, and to honor our teachers. I had also made a promise to Jesus Christ to share my faith as I worked, wherever I might be. How successful I was to be at fulfilling these oaths remained to be seen.

Just before I left, I had lunch with my sister Daphne for the last time. She was just about to start fifth grade, and I thought the world of her. She made fun of me for shaving off my full beard. As I explained to her that it wouldn't be appropriate for me to wear a beard in China, I realized how much I would miss her. I also knew that I'd miss my friends at Cornerstone, my home church. They had prayed for me before I left and promised to keep it up.

I faced many difficult questions when I decided to go to China. Several asked, "Have you decided to become a Communist?" Others were more pragmatic: "What can you possibly learn from the Chinese? Their technology is nothing like ours." My mother hit a delicate spot when she asked, "Won't you be lonely?" But the most vicious accusation was "Look, you're wasting a year of your life!" I heard it from many professors and friends, and it made me want to avoid seeing them or even saying good-bye. Even my Chinese language tutor was not sure of the wisdom of my going.

Everyone else from school was off to do residency training in a particular medical specialty. I had decided to take an unprecedented step and defer this phase of my training for a year. The founder of my school, E. Gray Dimond, had strong friendships in the medical community inside China and had helped me to visit Shanghai for a medical elective as part of my education a year earlier.

When I was invited by the Chinese to return, he arranged for me to go back and spend a year there as an exchange between our medical centers. It had not been done before, but this did not bother me.

I had other reasons for going in addition to my curiosity about China. After years of living surrounded by books and the secluded little world of medicine, I felt that I needed to take a break and see some of the real world. I often thought, Sure, I know a lot of facts about health care, but there are other things that I know nothing about. I want to take time to experience some of the adventure of life!

Throughout my time in medical school I also had a growing concern: the social inequalities and injustice I had seen in America. I lived near the medical center, which was situated on a hill. On one side of the hill was the most fabulous shopping, hotel, and entertainment complex in the city. It was a place of big money and fancy cars. I enjoyed walking through it though I possessed neither big money nor a fancy car.

But on the other side of the hill, equally visible from my window, was a city ghetto area. Unemployed men prowled the dusty streets day and night. Their children were often malnourished, and invariably filthy. It seemed as though someone was stabbed or shot every night in the neighborhood. I knew about their situation because they came to the hospital where I was a student. I knew that they were no better off than millions of others, but they were extremely visible to me. I felt sorry for them. Their cycle of poverty seemed endless, each new generation taking on the habits of those before them. Sometimes I wondered whether those who were better off would, or could, help them out.

Next to the shopping complex stood a plush hospital that served the more well-to-do of the city. We went there for part of our training as well. One night a twelve-year-old black girl was walking in front of this hospital with some of her friends. A car drove past and a man with a gun fired three shots into the group. The girl crumpled to the sidewalk. The others screamed and ran inside to tell the receptionist. There was an ambulance parked in front of the emergency room at the back of the hospital. In two or three minutes it arrived on the scene.

The girl was crying. Her blood pressure was low, and three large holes in her abdomen were bleeding. The medics quickly loaded her into their truck and drove back to the emergency room door, one half block away. The doors burst open as they wheeled her in for help, but they were stopped short. Before them, dressed in a dark suit, stood a cool administrator.

"Wait a moment!" he said. "What's going on here?"

The medics came to a reluctant halt. "This girl is shot bad! She needs attention now. Now let's get going." The medic started to push by the man.

"Not so fast. Look at her." His eyes ran down the girl's body. Her clothes were dirty and tattered, her hair was uncut, and there was an unpleasant odor. "We can't accept any more charity patients this month. We already filled our quota."

"Look, she's hurt bad," the medic insisted. "She's bleeding internally and needs to be seen at once!"

"Now you look," the administrator said, getting defensive, "she's awake. She'll be okay. Take her to the city hospital. You can be there in ten minutes. Now get out!"

The medics reluctantly turned around and rolled her back to their truck. They were angry, bitterly angry at the refusal, for it was obvious to them that she was getting worse.

I met them when they arrived in our emergency room fifteen minutes later. They rushed inside and there was a whirl of action around her as the physicians and nurses tried to resuscitate her. As I stood by her, she looked up at me.

"Please don't let me die!" she whispered. That was the last thing she said. She died five minutes later.

At first, I wept. Then word came to us of where she had been taken first and I was mad---fighting mad. I turned on my surgery resident, demanding answers. "Here we are, trying to take care of people, and someone is out there taking potshots at little girls. Then, just because she's poor and black, the people who could have saved her kick her out. What can we do to stop things like this from happening?"

He shook his head and laughed cynically. "There's nothing you can do. It's human nature---some of it is good, some bad. Just get used to it and don't let it bother you. Remember, we're just here to pick up the pieces."

I could not swallow his prescription. Later, in my room, I pondered the incident. People today are still struggling with the same problems of human nature that they always have, I thought. Technology has not made it any better. Look at all of the wars, the poverty, and the unhappy people. I'm not just going to accept it as it is. In church we talked about loving others as much as Jesus did, but it didn't seem as though enough people were taking this idea seriously. I hoped that in China I'd have time to think about these issues. While I was skeptical of the answers Marxism offered to solve social problems, I still thought that I could learn something from the Chinese.

"Dr. Comninellis!" a voice called out as I emerged from the doorway. I looked out into the crowd to see who it was. A man kept calling my name, so I walked toward him. Before me stood the Chinese gentleman with whom I had correspondeded for months beforehand. He wore a pressed white shirt that hung out around the waist of his short pants. His smile told me that I had won my first friend in the East.

"Welcome to Hong Kong! It's fine to see you at last."
We shook hands. "Pao Chu, you look as lively as I imagined. I appreciate your coming to meet me. I had a good long trip to think about what I was getting into!"
"Well, I have appreciated the letters that you sent to me," he said.
"Where will you be staying?"
"I have a reservation at the YMCA."
"Good! That is close by."

We picked up my two bags and caught a cab, which took us winding through the narrow streets. People dressed in brightly colored clothes swarmed over the sidewalks. Chinese-character neon signs blinked above us, and English-style double-decker buses filled the roads. Skyscrapers towered on either side and darkened the streets. Laundry hung from poles above our heads and swayed in the sea breeze.

The cab stopped at the downtown YMCA where I had reserved a simple room for three dollars a night. In the lobby were travelers from all over the world, and I counted at least six languages being spoken. Across the street some blond, tanned European backpackers sat in an ornate oriental restaurant. The concept of the community of the world seemed to be a reality here. Boy, I thought, this is going to be a more interesting year than my friends will have back home!

Pao Chu then offered to take me on a short tour of the city. We bought tickets on the Star Ferry to visit the lighthouse at the island's peak. We headed toward Hong Kong Island, the boat rocking gently in the clear water. A small flock of sea gulls followed along behind, scavenging for food.

I turned to my companion. "I am so happy that my language tutor gave me your name before I left. It is a real treat to know someone here."
"Oh, Dr. Comninellis, it is my pleasure. I am happy to be a part of your little expedition into China. You see, I am interested to hear about what you will find there."
"I'll let you know. You said that you are from China originally. How was it that you came to Hong Kong?"
"That was quite a long time ago," he replied. "I was a peasant in the Su Zhou province of China for many years. There were several hundred of us who worked for a landlord in his grape orchard. My wife and three children lived in a sod house, and all five of us worked from before sunrise until late at night just to survive."
"That sounds terrible," I said.
Pao Chu nodded. "Fifty percent of the harvest we had to give to the landlord, and besides that, we had to pay rent for the house. When winter came, there was no heat. One of my daughters died from the cold."
"Wasn't there anything that you could do for help? What about friends? Couldn't they give you fuel? How about the landlord?"
"Nothing. The landlord had complete control of my life as well as the lives of my friends. We belonged to him. He did not care. We were allowed only a certain amount of wood to burn. When that was gone there was no more. There were many landlords, and each one's land was like a small kingdom in itself. Once, another landlord attacked us. My son, who was only thirteen, was forced to serve in the army. He was armed with only a simple spear and went out too young to understand the cruelty of men. He never came back." Pao Chu fell into a sad silence.

"But one day something happened. A man came to our village and talked about all of us peasants getting together and fighting against the landlords. He said that there were many others who were behind him. They had overthrown the power of their landlords already. The man's name was Sun Yat-sen. We now call him the George Washington of China. He was young then, and we followed him with all our hearts. He made promises to us. He promised that the land would belong to all of us. We would all share the tools and divide up the harvest among us. This way our families would have enough food. He said that we would be our own rulers and have a democratic state where everyone had a voice."

"It sounds like for the first time you had real hope," I said. "You must have been inspired."

"I certainly was! I left my family for a time and joined his army. We fought against the landlords and the old Chinese empire. We also fought against the foreigners who had established colonies in China: the French, English, and Portuguese. We were indeed liberating China from all those who had controlled us."

A heavy wooden houseboat drifted by, raising its bamboo sail to the wind. It picked up speed and passed our ferry. A string of old barges began to pass by the ferry as well. We stopped talking, distracted for a moment by the sights. I turned toward Pao Chu. "It must have been an exciting time to live. But why did you decide to leave your home for Hong Kong?"

"It is an involved story. After the war for independence I returned to my town. They honored me like a true hero! We rebuilt our community, and for the first time everyone had enough to eat. There was peace for a number of years. But then things began to change. It has always been a part of human nature that people like power. Greed and self-interest are still prime movers. The Japanese began to invade China in the 1930s. They wanted to expand their own empire. They took the oil-rich land of northeastern China and then came down the coast and occupied cities. We were terrified of them---they were so strong!

"At last we came to a great river, which separated the Japanese occupied territory from the rest of China. The river bank was guarded by a fence and dogs. A sign said that anyone trying to escape would be shot on sight, but we certainly could not go back. The only alternative was to try to swim across. The water was frigid, and we were very tired from the walking. My remaining daughter was only two and a half then. Still, we had no choice but to try. Late one night, the three of us slid into the water and began to swim to freedom. We were about two hundred feet from shore when a guard shined a light on us and began to shoot. The bullets splashed all around us. I held my child on my chest to protect her. My wife screamed, and then I felt terrible pain in my back. Blood was running from a rip in my shirt. My mind began to fade after a moment, and I felt the water come over my head and my daughter choking in my arms."

Pao stopped and wiped the sweat from his face. In the background we could hear a tug with a lone diesel engine, chugging at the rate of a rapid heartbeat. "My wife is a small woman, but she took my chin by one hand and the girl in the other and propelled the three of us with her legs until the spotlight was far away. The bullets still pelted the water but were far off their target. We crawled up onto the other side of the river bank. Then I collapsed and remember nothing more for several days. But we were free!"

Just then our ferry reached the island, and the sailors on board cast their ropes to the dock to secure the boat. After disembarking, we climbed aboard a trolley car that took us up the steep mountainside for a look at Hong Kong Island.

Pao looked intently across the mountains as we rode. The buildings along the coast grew smaller and smaller as we rose toward the clouds. A stately lighthouse crowned the top of the peak. Here Pao and I got off the trolley to watch the sun set between the mountains.

"Pao Chu," I said in a moment of inspiration, "do you suppose that there is a solution for people acting so badly toward one another?" Unlike the surgery resident, he did not laugh at my question.

"I am not sure. I've asked myself that question before. We would need to change human nature to start with." He paused. "Over there, in the distance, is China." He waved his right hand toward the north. "I have heard that the leaders there are making some efforts to do just that. I wonder how successful they have been? I may one day find out, for soon Hong Kong will be part of China again."

"What do you mean?"

"The British leased Hong Kong Island and the nearby peninsula from the Chinese. That lease expires in 1997. All of this wealth will then belong to China."

Pao continued to look intently across the mountains. The salty breeze blew his hair into tangles. The two of us turned and walked back to the trolley. I stopped as we boarded to take one last look over the mountains.

Pao noticed my gaze. When I turned toward him again, he looked at me solemnly, then said, "If you find the answer to your question in China, you must tell me."