How China became my classroom

By Talibeh Hydara

I have visited China three times before this trip and, based on how I fared in the previous trips, I confidently expected to smoothly cruise through this one. I wanted to jump straight to the conclusion that this one is a different kettle of fish but that is, in my opinion, an imposition of my views on you. So, let me rehash the past and you be the judge of the present.
In February 2023, I hopped on a plane to China as a participant of the four-month CIPCC programme. Funnily, the programme considers me a veteran now; a nice tag indeed. The CIPCC programme introduced me to a China I never thought existed. I crisscrossed the Asian country; from Beijing to Shanghai, and from the remotest villages in Hunan province to the beautiful cities in Shaanxi province. Roads, bridges, railways, and buildings are closer to the sky than to the ground. I saw things that I could not narrate to strangers, otherwise I could be considered either an outright liar or a legendary exaggerator. Neither would be a compliment, despite the latter’s literary connotation. So, on occasions in front of the inquisitive eyes of family members who wouldn’t say I lied, I would talk about China. Passionately. The trip was both fun and life-changing. I built connections and relationships. And I came back better informed.
A year later, in September 2024, as a veteran of the CIPCC programme, I was invited to cover the Beijing Summit of the Forum on China-Africa Cooperation, FOCAC. That was a short trip but equally enthralling. I saw all, including frail African leaders being carried into the hall either due to advanced age (the case of Paul Biya of Cameroon) or health issues (the case of Salva Kiir of South Sudan). In that semi-embarrassing state, my president, in his neat kaftan, walked in and majestically strolled to his seat. I said, my man! Anything less than such would have given me trauma. Despite a brief visit, I went to arguably the most magical city in China, Chongqing. There too, I saw everything, including a taxi that has no human driver or any driver at all. It took a bit of courage and long breaths to get into the vehicle but I did. It was scintillating. I didn’t say much about that too, fearing the lie tag. It is The Gambia, after all. Once you’re tagged a liar, you die with it.
The third one was only five months ago. I took a spiritual journey to Qufu, the hometown of the sage, Confucius. The buildup to that trip was the worst I ever experienced but it was a memorable one for so many good reasons. Shandong province is remarkable, and people in the cities and villages revere Confucius like Chairman Mao is revered in Hunan province. And I found out that Chinese from that area are relatively tall. I reunited with old friends from the CIPCC group and attended a refreshing CMG forum. I still keep in touch with a few people I connected with in Qufu. That trip ended with a nice high-speed train ride through Tianjin to Beijing, and then a flight to Banjul.     
So, those were the previous trips. Nice? Yes, but on those trips, I was invited and my hosts took good care of me. I was grateful. This time, however, I arrived as a student living on campus. This is a different animal. Like the Jammeh hyenas surviving on expired chicken in Kanilai. No wonder three have already died. It tells us all we need to know about the food we eat. Even hyenas cannot survive on it. It is a miracle we are still alive. And we act surprised when someone suddenly dies.
Similar to my April trip, which traumatised me, especially my experiences at the airport in Casablanca, I transited in Istanbul this time. Twice my flight got delayed, and an initial six-hour layover was stretched to ten. The only consolation was that it is a beautiful airport. I would have strangled somebody if it was ours and the airport staff showed concern with occasional food rations. My friend who picked me up at the airport in Beijing brought along a packaged donkey meat when I told them I was hungry. If I had eaten that, donkeys and donkey owners in The Gambia would have a problem. They would not be spared. I didn’t but I cannot promise the same outcome if the chance comes again. The package was heavy and tempting.  
I reached the university at 9pm. I filled the temporary residence permit and I was handed a key to my dormitory room. I took the elevator, snaked through the corridor and slid through the door. Lo and behold, four giant beds up in the sky with little staircases to climb. I did not see that coming. Four beds mean I would have three roommates. The struggle is not having three roommates, no, it is having to climb up to lie on my bed. Besides, it wasn’t that long ago since I had multiple roommates. For three days straight, my head would hit the ceiling when climbing and when waking up from sleep. I thought I would have a concussion. I needed to climb like an old baboon and not an excited monkey. I figured out the climbing part. I am still working on the waking up part. The room is spacious enough to have all our belongings, and a nice bathroom fitted with a flush toilet and shower.
I share the room with two amazing Cubans and a Bangladeshi. It is an interesting combination. I always vibe well with Cubans, so that should be fine. Beijing Language and Culture University is diverse on another level. There are citizens of all the countries here. The flag of each country is hoisted across the campus. It is going to be a spellbinding one year for me as I learn a new language, or languages, and re-adapt to living with multiple men. The only difference between this and my former life is that we shared a bed at the time, and not anything else personal. Here, bed is the only thing we don’t share, since each of us is a pilot on his own, up in the sky. The bathroom is in the room, and even though it is not like other dormitories where a whole floor shares a bathroom, chances are we will bump into each other’s nakedness in the next twelve months. I dread that because the last man who saw me naked didn’t stop at only looking, he circumcised me. I hope that doesn’t happen again.
None of my previous experiences in this country came even close to as educational as this one promises to be. The last three visits were just work. This is proper education and I cannot wait to learn, explore and appreciate diversity.  And I’ll document everything as always, but reading it is not up to you.