Ben
Yes, China is changing,
said the Old One. Go
back to Shanghai in ten years, Mike, and you’ll find customers for your weight-loss program.
Belle must go! went the chorus.
Yes, said someone, China is flying at such a blind speed it already caught up with America in the global vices: pollution of rivers, lakes, oceans and underground waters with industrial waste, and depletion of the ozone layer with toxic automobile and industrial fumes. In another 20 years it will catch up with America in the domestic vices: guns, drugs, drink, sex, greasy cuisine; animal fat deliberately ground into lean meat; cows, pigs and chickens unnaturally fattened and too rapidly matured with food additives that accumulate to deadly cancer which may not manifest for 30 years . . . .
Yes, the tallest and shortest men are freaks; but it’s a statistical fact that Chinese people have grown considerably taller in the past two to three decades. As Chinese diet has drawn closer and closer to America’s diet overloaded with red meat, fats, additives and sheer eat-to-quench quantity, Chinese youngsters have also grown to rival American youngsters in height.
American-type junk food “that’s the culprit.
Read Also: The changing geopolitics of energy: America’s domination of oil and gas will not cow China
For sheer bulk and height, though, you mustn’t forget the Sumo wrestlers.
That’s Japanese, not Chinese.
Anyway, so cancer-causing additives may kill you at 30 . . .
To live but 30 years is acceptable in the sight of the Lord, intoned a member doing push-ups.
Oh yes, if you try hard enough you can justify virtually any crime.
That’s entrepreneurship, man. Your exclusive commitment is to make money “and to hell with the client, customer or public interest.
L’ intérêt publique, c’est moi! That’s the free enterprise creed.
Isn’t that what brought us the present global economic crisis?
Tell me about it.
Belle must go! said the chorus.
Enough of this grim talk, said the Old One. How about this: the first and last time I went to China, Mao Tse-Tung was still in power . . .
Ah, man, you must be 190 years old, said the man at the weights. This gym is for young people, you know.
No mind am, said the Lady, dey one wey dey giv am eye. Na so-so jealousie!
The Old One went on as though he hadn’t heard a thing. Mao held that country tight, I mean tight. We spent two weeks of solid hell in China. You make fhiim they deport you. They didn’t fool around.
Ah but ol boy I know say you like de women.
How could you like the women? You couldn’t even see them. They all wore grey Mao suits.
You mean like Saudi Arabia where the women are covered from head to foot like Eyo masquerades?
You smiled and said hello to them they looked the other way, and the official escort frowned and said something rude.
How would you know that? You didn’t understand Chinese.
No, but you know a nasty sound when you hear it.
That depends on the language family.
Well, at least you know a nasty look when you see it. Looks don’t lie.
But China is not like that anymore, said the One Who Just Returned.
Yeah, well, that’s how it was in those days. We were all high and dry. We went on some government delegation, I don’t even remember what exactly. But what a relief when we finally landed at Murtala Muhammed Airport. As we scurried about collecting our luggage from the conveyor belt I saw my colleague . . .
Which one, Old One? What’s his name? I bet it’s the one I think it is . . .
He shall remain forever nameless . . . . But you know, he sat glumly on the steps in one corner of the hall with his hand on his chin . . .
You mean like Rodins sculpture of The Thinker?
Exactly. How do you know?
I think I’ve heard this story somewhere before.
So I went up to him. Cheer up, man. We’re home, man . . . What’s the matter?
He looked up at me, heaved a deep sigh, shook his head slowly and said: I just feel sorry for my wife!
For at least ten minutes the entire gym choked with laughter. Then the women turned to giggling and making faces.
Belle must go! went the chorus. . . .
Finally Tall and Buxom threw down her towel and signed out. Good night, everybody! she shouted. She made to go out, then turned and walked back to the man heaving the weights up and down on the weight-lift machine, his biceps bulging fit to burst.
Good night, sir! she said in a loud voice. I just feel sorry for your wife! . . .
