1-child policy adding pain to mourners
Thousands of parents have lost only child in China earthquake
For them and other couples who lost an only child in this week's massive earthquake, the tragedy has been doubly cruel. Robbed of their sole progeny and a hope for the future, they find it even harder to restart their shattered lives, haunted by added guilt, regret and gnawing loss.
"She died before becoming even a young adult," said Bi, an intense, wiry chemical plant worker, standing beside the grave of 13-year-old Yuexing — one of dozens sprinkled amid fields of ripened spring wheat and newly planted rice. "She never really knew what life was like."
Yuexing, a bright sixth-grader, was in school when Monday's quake struck, bringing the Fuxin No. 2 Primary School crashing down, killing her and 200 other students. Teachers had locked all but one of the school's doors during break time, parents said, leaving only a single door to escape through.
Many among the more than 22,000 people killed across central China were students in school. Nearly 6,900 classrooms collapsed, government officials said Friday, in an admission that highlighted a chronically underfunded education system especially in small towns and compounded the anger of many Chinese over the quake.
The "one-child policy" has been contentious inside China as well as out. The government says it has prevented an additional 400 million births. But critics say it has also led to forced abortions, sterilizations and a dangerously imbalanced sex ratio as local authorities pursue sometimes severe birth quotas set by Beijing and families abort girls out of a traditional preference for male heirs. The policy is law but there are exceptions.
Farther down the lane from where Yuexing is buried, 10 more graves were laid out, some accompanied by favorite items — textbooks for English and music, a pencil box, a Chinese chess set. At one, grandmother threw herself to the dirt and wailed as her husband lit a handful of "spirit paper" believed to comfort the dead in the afterlife.
Another bereaved parent, Sang Jun, stood where his daughter, Rui, is buried, a simple mound of dirt beside his quake-shattered farmhouse. The house is surrounded by burned bushes — a traditional disinfectant.
"The house is gone and the child is dead," said Sang, who wore a T-shirt and plastic sandals. His parents, both in their 70s, looked on with tears in their eyes.
Recent comments
RE: Anonymous at 10:54
Unfortunately, governments do want...
rvalens2 | May 18, 2008 at 12:35 a.m.
I had two girl friends from two big cities of China (over 10 million...
GoodGuyGary | May 17, 2008 at 10:26 p.m.
When there are thousands of people's lives are still in danger...
GoodGuyGary | May 17, 2008 at 10:22 p.m.
