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My Visit to a Village in Northern China
Kris Rudulfo
The 12 hour train ride to Luoyang from Beijing took us across the
picturesque countryside where small family-sized farming villages
were located. When we actually had the chance to visit one, I was
enthralled by the familiarity of being in such a village. This reminded
me much of where I had once lived in. It was just like this in a
similar village in the Philoppines where I had lived for the first
six years of my life. The once-forgotten stroll through a dirt path,
the smell of a pig lying in the mud, and the scampering of a chicken
and its chicks all suddenly became recognizable to me again. I see
the faces of these village people flash with pride as they display
their livestock and plants. Although I have lived in New York City
for many years and my ties from the rural life had long been severed,
I still could not help feeling a sense of camaraderie with these
people. No longer did I consider them so different from me. Speaking
to the locals there, I was surprised with their warm and friendly
responses rather than the aloofness and arrogance that I had preconceived.
This experience instilled me a feeling that all human beings, despite
geographic and cultural hurdles that had kept us apart for so long,
could communicate using our compassionate hearts.
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