"Is it for the children” or “peace on earth”?
After we emerged from the Westminster Abbey Tube Station we quickly folded ourselves into the crowd. The north bank of London is a very popular place. With the Parliament Building, the Big Ben, and the Westminster Abbey in the vicinity, the area is always hustling and bustling with tourists. That was an early Thursday morning and the day did not start with rain as it had been the first few days we were there. We were congratulating on ourselves on picking a fine day to visit the most famous part of the city. With traffic zooming by, and groups of tourists in many different tongues pushing back and forth like ocean waves on the pavements, we had to be very careful where we were going. We were crossing the bridge, looking up very admiringly at the Big Ben when suddenly seeing a big and long face in front of us.
“It is for the children,” the long face spoke to us with a big smile and then we found in each of our hands a small fake flower, made hastily from red tissue paper and silver foil sheet rolled up as a stem. Before we could see it was a middle aged woman who was addressing us, a hand was thrust before us. We realized she was demanding some money. Jian gave her some coins of change.
“That is not enough, it is for the children.” She said.
“That is all the change I all,” Jian told her.
“Come on, it is for the children. Give me some more,” she became impatient.
Before we could explain to her that we did not have any more change on us the smile on the long face withered like a dying flower. She snatched the flowers from both Chang’s and my hands and walked away, leaving us with only one crappy looking flower in Jian’s hand. We were a little bewildered by her quick appearance as well as disappearance, but quite amused at her sudden change in behavior. Several days later we passed by the area again and saw her hanging around, handing flowers to innocent passers-bys. I can not say I totally doubt her genuine intention for a good cause, but she looked very much to me a cartoonish character out of Charles Dickens’s novel. She was so comical that she could hardly enlist any sympathy or respect.
Our last day in London ended with visiting several galleries and a trip to Highgate Cemetery during the day. At supper we turned on the TV and the news was about a guy who had been protesting against the War on Iraq and camping in front of the Parliament for 4 years, which made him the longest protester in history. Definitely we should pay him respect.
After supper we set off on our last expedition about the town. Once on the street outside of the Westminster Abbey Tube Station I was a little surprised to see the same women working her “charm” on other tourists, who still crowed the area around eight o’clock at night.
We found the guy posing himself very prominently across the street from the gate of the Parliament. He was in his early 50s, thin and fit, sitting in a folded chair. He looked very tan but not rugged. No traces of fatigue or dreariness could be detected as they would be expected to find in people when they had been exposed to elements for a considerable long period of time.
The whole block was covered with posters, big and small, with some anti-war and peace loving messages on them. He was glad to hear he was in the news and asked which channel the news was on. “That is good. The world will know and the message will get across”, he smiled very genuinely and asked where we were from. After hearing we were from China (we took our friends advice in mentioning nothing about America) he led us to a poster and pointed at the Chinese words written on it: “1.3 billion Chinese people are behind you”. It was a message by a Chinese fellow who claimed to have sit in Tiananmen demonstration.
He then went on to tell us he knew how to say “big guy” in Cantonese. He was called by that nickname while he worked in Hong Kong as a cook in one of MacDonnell’s. “The Chinese co-workers liked to make fun of me and push me around a little bit”, he added,” it was rare for a British, a white, to work as a cook. They were usually masters who gave orders to Chinese. So they vented it out on me. That is ok. I don’t mind.” He said that very sincerely. While Jian’ asked if he could took a picture of him, he dragged me into the picture with him. “Come on, don’t be shy,” he insisted.
We left him and bid good bye to the Big Ben for the last time. It just struck half past eight. It had stood there and witnessed passing of time for centuries. Besides keeping time it also served as a symbol of London, imposing, reserved and welcoming. It would extend the same hospitality to everyone -- accidental tourists like us, the flower lady who might make a living out of charity or the guy who seemed to care so little about earthy matters but devoted himself to a worthy cause. Adieu Big Ben("大笨钟--Big Stupid Clock" as Chinese call it)! Adieu London!
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