Now that the horrors of SARS - both real and imagined appear to have subsided, no new cases here on the Chinese Mainland for days, no deaths and very few 'suspects' reported either, it seems that the nation is able to breathe freely again.
For me it has meant a welcome lifting of travel restrictions and a release from an almost caged existence placed around me almost as soon as I arrived here on St. David's Day! On Friday morning I had a 7 o'clock start - invited to go fishing with two friends, my teaching colleagues, the husband of one having kindly supplied all the equipment at a lake about 2.5 km. from my home.
It was a damp and cool morning but already very busy with the everyday activities of life. As we walked along the roadside we passed colourful street stalls laden with water-melons, peaches, bananas, plums and greengages, bearberries and loquats. A lady who's sole occupation, pardon the unintended pun, is that of repairing shoes, sandals, slippers and work-bags using a large and primitive-looking treadle stitching machine - circa 1880 I'd say - but then it could be just as easily 5 years old for in this land it is functionality of design that is all-important among work tools, not the slimmest, sleekest, latest piece off the press!
The old man whose fishery it is eyed me with curiosity, amusement and probably grave doubt too - and when I saw the tackle I would have endorsed the latter! I was presented with a rod hugely long, very whippy (slender fibreglass) and with a light line simply tied to it. No reels here! The tiny quill float became almost invisible in the water and the fish bit with the speed of gnats giving barely the slightest sign of their presence at all. I noticed an unattended smaller 'lady's' sized rod on the bank. Could I try it please? Of course.
That was better. I can honestly report a catch of seven carp in the two hours I fished there, six a good edible size were duly presented to me in a large plastic bag, straight from the keep-net. I protested and enquired if I might put them back with simply a vote of gratitude for their sporting nature, but no. I must eat them as the fish from here were known to be good and health giving. I hurried back home, filled a very large bucket to overflow with running water and restored the poor unfortunates. All seemed well as I left them swimming happily to attend my next class.
Regrettably, when I returned, two had jumped out of their natural environment for a terminal experiment in ours! I was obliged to dispatch them swiftly and prepare them for the table. I could at least vouch for their good food qualities - as well as the ample supply of bones!
Late that evening I carefully replaced the others in their bag, this time with water to sustain them on the short journey and secretly walked out into the dusk to launch them gently into the lake at the foot of Lanke Mountain.
The local people would consider me insane but the fish swam away happily, briskly into a new much larger healthier expanse of water having learnt, I hope, to avoid bait on the end of a hook for all time.
Kyra Somerfield
