Wandering through the devastated quake zone, I spotted a solitary and
badly damaged temple tucked up against a hill. About 20 Taoist devotees there were camping out under a makeshift shelter, sleeping on a jumble of quilts spread over tables outdoors. The quake had left them without electricity and running water. "We don't even dare go indoors to fetch our clothes and belongings," said Taoist abbess Zhong Zhixin, 60, "The roof is about to fall in. Already the three oldest halls have collapsed. They dated back to 1529, the Ming Dynasty." She pointed to a pile of rubble and broken eaves. "More than 24 ancient wall frescoes have been destroyed." As we chatted, Zhong was about to tell me about a fortuneteller who'd predicted in March that China soon would experience a serious natural disaster, when suddenly several young Chinese pulled up by car, led by the local communist party secretary.
They were Buddhist volunteers from Xiamen -- a glittering city on the east coast -- arriving to distribute medicine and spiritual comfort to quake survivors, "to show them they're not alone," as team leader Hu Feng put it. One of his colleagues insisted I take some of their antibiotics, and a small bottle of Yunnan baiyao, a traditional Chinese medicine famous for its ability to stop hemorraging. (I later gave the meds to a quake refugee). They also brought flashlights, tents,
Taoist master at a quake-damaged temple near Shifang.
and radios. Hu was clearly exhilarated by the experience of travelling across the country, connecting with other Chinese volunteers and doing good deeds.
He whipped out the namecard of an extreme sports enthusiast he'd met, who along with two volunteer buddies had persuaded the People's Liberation Army to let them abseil into remote mountain hamlets above the flattened city of Beichuan to assess survivors' needs. Now, Hu said, they all planned to set up a "volunteers' forum" to discuss how to coordinate among themselves and prepare better for future disasters.
The Xiamen Buddhists -- including a rally-car driver and a former air stewardess -- were looking for a place to set up shop. Their group intended to stay in the area for at least 18 months.The Taoist abbess welcomed them to pitch a tent in the temple courtyard.
Of course, the current surge of volunteerism has started out as a much more positive phenomenon than the movement launched in 1966. Will the current explosion of altruism fade away, or get diverted into a less noble direction? I decided to ask the temple seer what he prophesied for China's future. Will blog later on what the fortuneteller said.
