Hot Word Era (Selected Commentaries from Southern Metropolis Daily, Volume 1)

Author: Li Wenkai, Editor-in-Chief
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: Once we shared life and death, now we are reunited. How can we forget the shared pain? If death is covered in dust, it is just history on paper. Only by constantly bringing it up can it be painfully glaring. The same is true for death—when it involves thousands, it is just data on paper. Rather, the personal accounts of specific cases reveal more vivid suffering. Thus, if you choose to forget, please turn it into data and seal it in history. But if you want to draw from this breath of death the dignity of life and the courage to live, let us learn to remember until we can calmly touch the tears in each other's eyes and the pain in our hearts. This passage is dedicated to the unprecedented air disaster that occurred at Guangzhou Baiyun Airport 14 years ago, on the eve of the Mid-Autumn Festival. It is dedicated to the 128 victims who perished in the October 2nd collision of three planes. It is dedicated to the survivors who experienced inexplicable terror and the chasm of life and death—some of whom, moved by a report in this newspaper reviewing "A Century of the Airport," finally reunited, reflecting on a piece of history that was just data, thus revealing more vivid and detailed colors. Fourteen years have passed, some have aged, and some have passed their prime, but the urge and demand to find those who shared life and death have never faded in their hearts. For these survivors, the memory of this brutal impact and fear needs to be released through resonance and then healed through release. There is only one regret: such an opportunity had to wait 14 years—such a long wait—perhaps for some survivors, it was a time they couldn’t afford to miss. Thus, we recall the warmth after the sinking of the "Titanic": survivors agreed to meet every 10 years in Lausanne, Switzerland, to comfort each other and dispel the lingering chill of the nightmare. However, even 10 years was too long—a 1982 gathering only had 11 attendees. To meet more often, they decided to change the frequency from once every 10 years to once every 5 years. Of course, this grief does not exist only in the memories of the survivors. The victims are gone, but how could the families of the deceased not have endured heart-wrenching pain that gradually faded in their dreams? Over these 14 years, was there ever a chance for them to gather, to cry together and to comfort each other by patting shoulders—promising to call when vulnerable and to offer support when struggling? Indeed, if disaster strikes unexpectedly, the healing afterward should have been something that could be anticipated. Take the small town of Somerville near New York, for example. There, 33 people didn’t make it back to their wives and children on September 11th. But soon after, these women who shared the same fate began meeting every week. They displayed photos of their deceased loved ones, played music, lit candles, placed flowers, and wrote cards, finding strength and support in their shared sorrow and moving forward from the shadow of death. In fact, the pain of disaster affects a broader group. In the "October 2nd" collision at Baiyun Airport, among the 128 victims, most were unaware and unprepared, silently falling victim to death. Their deaths were brutal but not heroic, innocent and passive, without any noble justification. But precisely because of this, it seems even more necessary to reflect: How did this disaster happen? Were all possible measures taken at the time? Especially regarding the other two planes involved, why weren’t the passengers evacuated in time, leading to greater casualties? The truth and details of history may eventually be revealed, but here, we must highlight these various pains of disaster. In fact, they are the shared pain of all, near or far, living or dead. How can we forget or dare to forget? Thus, we must at least ensure that the end of so many lives is not without witness or lesson for future generations—even a brief record must be deeply engraved on stone, standing prominently to block the path, allowing future generations to touch and gaze upon it, gathering this unbroken reflection into a beam of reverence for life, continuously healing this nation scarred by disaster. (2004-07-10)