I wrote in my journal one day, “Today is one of those days where I say, ‘Wow, all that really happened?’”
That was the day I visited Dandong, a city on the border of North Korea and China. I was travelling with my Chinese roommate and her friends during the National Holiday period—basically a weeklong holiday that occurs every October and is meant to encourage Chinese people to travel and pump some spending money into the economy. I travelled with my roommate and her friend, occasionally joining up with some of their former high school classmates. We travelled to Shenyang, Dandong, and then Dalian—all cities in the northeast section of China. The experience that had the most impact on me was during my stay in Dandong.
The day I saw North Korea with my own eyes was the day Steve Jobs died. That morning in the hotel room my roommate looked up from her phone and said in shocked disbelief, “Steve Jobs died.” I turned away from my computer (having woken up with the rare motivation to study Chinese vocabulary online) raised my eyebrows and replied, “Wow.” My computer was a Macbook, and next to it I had opened the Chinese glossary app on my iPhone. I turned back to Macbook to continue studying while my roommate read the details of the report.
She started reading reactions on Renren, the equivalent of Facebook in China. These reactions varied from disbelief to grief to an indignant reminder that today was also the anniversary of a 19th century European ransacking of a famous Chinese place, but that the news of Steve Jobs’ death took more importance.
My roommate herself was shocked. She had just finished memorizing Steve Jobs’ five page 2005 Stanford commencement speech for her English class, and the eerie coincidence left her surprised and saddened. I noticed her continued shock, and I started wondering why I wasn’t as taken aback by the news of his death. I think that ever since the death of Michael Jackson (and Heath Ledger for that matter) I’ve gotten used to the idea that awesome people (who you definitely want to see more from) will die.
But there was some other reason she was more shocked than I was. I added, without raising my eyes from the computer screen, that he had been sick for a while, so the news wasn’t so surprising. I said that I heard he was sick enough that he had to step down from his position at Apple.
I took a moment to look at my roommate and noticed her wide eyes and open mouth. She said she had read that the reason he stepped down from his position at Apple was so the new guy could have the opportunity to take charge. She had heard nothing about Jobs’ deteriorating health.
I thought, “What a strange thing to not report.” Thousands of Chinese people were recording their shock on Renren, and I wondered how many of them were like my roommate, who did not know the real reason Jobs stepped down from Apple. My roommate was also very curious to know the reactions of Americans to Steve Jobs’ death, but I couldn’t access Facebook to find out.
I still am surprised that so many Chinese people were grieved by Steve Jobs’ death. Here was an American businessman and innovator—why did Chinese people care about his death? The reactions that my roommate read were of her friends—of my generation in China. Perhaps these Chinese students saw something in Jobs that they wish to see in themselves and their own culture.
I can see how the message in Jobs’ Stanford commencement speech—to follow your dreams, do what you want to do, and create success based on your love for work—would strike cords in the hearts of Chinese students. Chinese students have been preparing for tests all their lives, many have been forced to decide what they want to do early, and settle for a less desirable career path. I have talked to more than a few Chinese students who have been deterred from studying their first choice of major, simply because their test scores weren’t high enough for that major upon entering college. They had to settle for second, even their third choice of major, of which many times is based on how well they can perform on that test—not on their actual interest in the subject.
It is no wonder that the death of a man who embodied the spirit of hard-work, freedom to choose what you want to do, and the incredible resulting success from doing what you love would grieve a generation craving the same success and freedom of choice.
To read the second post about my travels in Dandong as I visit the Great Wall on the border of China and North Korea, click here.
Samm Nicolino says: