Shenzhen generosity

I WANT to take this opportunity to tell you about my remarkable experience in Shenzhen on Saturday.

I am an American, a private citizen and English teacher, living in Nanning. This past week I traveled by train from Nanning to Kennedy Town in Hong Kong to visit my sister, a nurse Ph.D. holder, who was there to attend a conference.

I pride myself on my skill at planning and researching my travels in China free of mistakes, and so it was traveling to Kennedy Town.

But, on Saturday, on the way back, I was reminded that my planning skills are not perfect.

My return ticket was for the 4:13 p.m. G2916 train from Shenzhen North Railway Station. I was feeling very good, having navigated three subway line changes in Hong Kong to the border at Lowu, through customs and into Luohu. Flawless!

Next up, Shenzhen Metro Line 1, change to Line 4 at the Convention Center and continue to Shenzhenbei. All was perfect. My mental prediction of when I would reach my destination, get some lunch and relax before boarding my train was all on track.

NOT!!

Somehow, by making assumptions and a lapse in attention to detail, I got it into my mind that Shenzhenbei is at the northern terminus of Line 4 — Qinghu. And so, when I arrived at Qinghu, I was rudely awakened to my mistake.

All of the people I asked how to walk to Shenzhenbei from Qinghu Station told me, as I listened in disbelief, that Shenzhenbei was far, far away.

Now here is the remarkable part:

From the masses of people, one man came to my rescue. He was an everyman, in his 50s, overhearing my plea to understand my mistake and how to fix it. With great patience and an optimistic aura, he convinced me to trust him to the extent that I gave him 100 yuan to get me a ticket and follow him. He took the 100 yuan banknote, lobbied for me at the ticket window and dutifully returned my change.

Still somewhat unconvinced, I decided to let him guide me. I thought he would simply show me the correct train back to Shenzhenbei, but no. He got on the train with me, made sure I got a seat, and rode all the way back with me. We talked a little and, even with my rudimentary Putonghua, we could understand each other. As he guided me to the exit I was beginning to achieve a full understanding of how far out of his way this man had gone to take pity on a confused, foreign, 70-year-old man. Surely, I thought, there must be some way to thank this man for his generosity — Buy him lunch or something? But at the exit, he could go no further. We shook hands. I called him “haoren” (good person). Maybe that was all he needed or maybe he wanted nothing more than the satisfaction of helping a fellow human being. He was gone in a flash. He had told me his name but it went in one ear and out the other.

I bring this to your attention because this way I can publicly thank this kind stranger and lessen my slight feeling of shame that I can do nothing more than follow this man’s selfless example sometime in the future when I might have the opportunity to help a fellow human being.

Eugene Kernis via email