K24 News Editor Caroline Mwangi, who is in China for the Third Edition of the China-Africa Press Centre, narrates her experience
I stand in the security queue at the JKIA, scared stiff, praying and sweating profusely. Not that I am carrying anything suspect. The reason is that I am – a few years shy of 30 years – making my maiden international flight.
In the anxiety, I forget to pick my watch and ring after removing them for the security check, realising my mistake only after a lady remarked “Na usirudi na bwana Mchina!’ (don’t come back with a Chinese husband). Before I could make a smart, and probably rude, retort, I look at my ring finger and it was nowhere to be seen! I stop short of kissing the KAA staffer who kept them safe for me.
The next hurdle was the luggage. One suitcase was beyond the accepted weight. So you now know who that lady who was holding up the queue, standing at the side and transferring clothes from one suitcase to another was.
You also now know why that young black lady in a long dress who, during the layover at Dubai Airport, was staring mouth agape at designer perfumes and other beauty products, world-renowned hotels, and the dreamy airport.
Fast-forward to Tuesday, March 1, 2016. I sit in the dark, staring into space for hours on end. What sorcery is this? Lord, did you bring me to die in a foreign land? *Sniff* I can’t stop coughing and wheezing! Winter is just ending here, but boy, is it cold!
Never in my life has the term “biting cold” made so much sense. Has it ever been so cold that it burns? I have a newfound appreciation for our sweet, sunny weather.
It is my fourth day here and I just can’t seem to shake off the jet lag. So, at night, I lie awake, thinking about life and why this winter cold just won’t let me prosper. I also wonder why there are conspiracy theories and rumours surrounding my visit to this country. What these people who won’t stop badgering my friends and their spouses don’t know is, I’m here to learn top-notch kung fu skills because I’m joining the cast of the next installment of Kung Fu Panda!
Press Center
Jokes aside, I am honoured to be part of a contingent of 20 journalists from all over Africa for the Third Edition of the China-Africa Press Centre (CAPC).
Every year, journalists from Africa get the opportunity to study and work in China as part of the resolutions reached during the China-Africa Conference held in South Africa last year, as a way of boosting ties and co-operation. When classes began at the Renmin University of China’s School of Journalism on Monday, I couldn’t help feeling homesick the way I felt when I first joined boarding school in Class Four.
But it’s amazing to be back in class again, and I am looking forward to interning at top Chinese TV stations. Very humbling.
Just before I came to China, my friends, family and I conjured up images of what life would be like here, most importantly when it comes to food. People would see cats and ask why I was watching my food just walk by. Contrary to popular stereotypes, however, Beijing is just like any other city.
At the supermarket, I was able to buy potatoes, carrots and cabbages (can one tell where I come from?). Granted, in my spirit of adventure and open-mindedness, I have eaten tofu, goose meat, rice desserts and loads of other stuff whose names I can’t pronounce.
Media sites
Also before I came here, I knew that several social media sites are restricted in China. However, no amount of planning prepares you for life without Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and worse still, INSTAGRAM! *wails* Soooo many photos, yet nowhere to take them.
My friends have borne this challenge, as I flood our Whatsapp group with countless photos and regale them with tales of what I had for lunch, where and when and how many times I went to the toilet and random people and sights that I see. They love me so, sadly, they have to put up with me.
For the few days I have been here, something has stood out: never before have I seen a people so proud of their culture and life, what sets them apart from the rest of the world and most importantly, their language.
They are not exactly keen or in a hurry to “fit in” by learning or speaking English. They are very much at home with their language. Don’t understand? Not their problem!
I admire greatly, that sense of stubborn national pride. Makes you think, doesn’t it? These people make the best of the life that they have. All the fuss about lack of access to all these social media platforms are misplaced and lost to them.
They have their own Google-like search engine, their own Whatsapp-like App . . .What I am saying is this; they are who they are, no apologies.
So, for the next eight months, I intend to immerse myself in this new experience.
I will go to school, work, eat new food, learn the language, learn their cultural practices and enjoy every minute of this journey. Walk it with me, will you?
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