Munching the Barbecue

Gao Huan

It was something I had never experienced before.

Filled with curiosity, my fellow students and I got started with the barbecue on a campsite of a seemingly remote island. Pretty soon, the curiosity was swallowed by total unpreparedness. I never imagined that to give the pieces of fish, pork and chicken simply a good roast could be so demanding. In order to stuff our tummies and not starve, we labored like clumsy Robinsons.

We collected firewood which was a little damp from the last-night rain and contrived as artfully as possible to put it in a crude concrete stove. But still, the fire refused to burn for us, since the newspapers intended as tinder didn��t work. Numerous futile attempts almost murdered our patience, yet the unwillingness to admit defeat, mingled with indignation and hunger, always braced us for one more try. At long last, the fire was built and we took great care that it didn��t go out again. ��Now let��s do supper!�� We shouted in a surge of joy. But then we found that it took either unbearably long for the meat to get edibly done, or unbelievably short to get burnt black. Sometimes we had to tear a stubborn shred off the chunk with much strength and tact of our teeth. Sometimes a precious inviting shred dropped unexpectedly and breezily into the flaming mess and disappeared, left us dazed and exasperated. The roast tasted quite all right. Our lips and tongues turned black; our hair was sprinkled with gray ashes; our faces were flushed by the hot air and smoke. Maybe we looked cool in this avant-garde make-up.

What else have we got from this arduous process of preparing and eating? A sense of bonding. In order to accomplish this instinctive mission of eating, we non-raw-eaters shared a hardship as well as annoyance and amusement. As a result, we got closer. But as a girl had said, we could have got equally close talking over Big Macs and cokes in McDonald.

Then let me poke the embers to see what is still there: Barbecue is believed to be a way of returning to the past, in which Mother Nature had the say. People claim they are fed up with the quick pace of the contemporary living and want to slow down and enjoy the pleasure of simplicity. But when they really jump into the jungle of past, they find the accustomed conveniences provided by modern society are supplanted by all sorts of unexpected inconveniences. What they take for granted to be simple is not simple at all. It is a hard life for a modernized people in 1998 AD. It was a much harder life for a primitive man in 1998 BC.

Strangely enough, nostalgia is a trendy sentiment. People denounce the meaningless hustle and bustle of the modern world, and extol the assumed naivety or elegance of the past, thinking they are being lofty with a piercing perception of the present human condition. But actually they are one-sided and simple-minded. They focus on the bright and interesting side of the past, which is probably cooked up by themselves; and turn a blind eye to the dark and dull side of it, which is often a hard fact. People deliberately forget about the suspected carcinogenic aspect of the barbecue to reminisce about a past they have never experienced. Many young people dream of a stylish and romantic life in the Shanghai of 1930s, which they don��t belong to. They would, of course, live in luxurious villas, dine in fancy restaurants and ride in vintage limousines. It never occurs to them that they might as well live in slums, eat leftovers and walk barefoot if they were really born that early. To fall in love with something that has nothing to do with you, isn��t it a little bit too sentimental and ridiculous?

However, nostalgia is excusable since people always long for things that they don��t have. With the processed food still on the tables, people suddenly run to the fields to harvest their dinners. When some pioneers are devotedly doing it, more follow suit. The circle of popular art has made good use of such mentalities. Songs, movies and fashions have nostalgia as the theme. New versions of old productions catch on with the novel agedness. But I am afraid this also suggests a lack of originality on the part of the supposedly creative artists.

The roast at the barbecue was smoky. But my mind got all the more clear. Munching the meat in my mouth, I crush the pervasive illusion of nostalgia and discover the hollowness inside. The root of the problem is the human incurable impatience with the status quo and the limitation in producing something new and satisfactory in one.

Professor Bruce Wilson's comment: Very thoughtful and perceptive, well-organized essay. A (Beloit College)