Pupils from the Yingxiu Primary School in Wenchuan, Sichuan Province pay respects to their teachers on April 4, 2009. Photo: CFP

By An Baijie in Beichuan

Jian Shaoqi is as excited as any prospective parent would be over the arrival of his new baby on June 1. But for Jian and his wife, the happy day can't help but be tinged with tragic memories. 

Jian, 43, a music teacher in the Beichuan High School in Sichuan Province, and his wife had been trying to have another child ever since their only daughter died in the Wenchuan earthquake.

"My wife is 39 now, and it's really difficult for women to have babies at that age," Jian told the Global Times. "Many teachers in our school could not get pregnant again after they lost their children in the earthquake."

Jian's daughter was a first-year junior high student at the high school where her father was already a teacher then. She was buried in her fifth floor classroom after the earthquake hit at 2:28 pm on May 12, 2008.

The quake killed more than 1,300 of the school's 2,900 students and teachers, according to a report from the Xinhua News Agency.

A father's sorrow

Although nearly three years have passed, Jian said his heart still aches whenever he hears any mention of the Wenchuan earthquake.

When the earthquake occurred, Jian was attending a ceremony with 100 students at the county government, all of whom survived.

Jian said his daughter should have come along because he had promised that the winner of the school's singing contest could go with him to the county government to attend the ceremony. But when he found that it was his daughter who won first prize, he hesitated to take her for fear of seeming biased.

"If my daughter had gone with us, she would have survived the quake, just like the other 100 students," Jian sighed. "It was I who caused her death." When Jian made it back to the earthquake-devastated school in the afternoon, he discovered that his daughter was trapped beneath a giant piece of fallen cement.

"I could hear my daughter's voice under the debris when she cried for help, "Jian said. When rescue teams from the PLA used heavy machinery to remove the cement ceiling, Jian's daughter had already died.

"The sorrow for my daughter's death will haunt me all my life," Jian said. "I don't know how to forgive myself."
Open wounds

On September 1, 2010, the survivors in Beichuan High School, together with newly enrolled students, moved into a newly built campus in Yongchang township, about 30 kilometers away from the old site of the earthquake-devastated school.

Jian said that the new environment could not heal his sadness.

"Even though we have moved into new and properly built school buildings now, I still feel extremely sad whenever I think of my daughter," he said. "She should enjoy the new place with us and share our happiness as well as sorrow, but it's impossible because she is gone."

"On the day she died, my daughter won a prize in a National English Contest, and there were only three students in our school who won the prize," Jian said. "My wife hopes that our new baby will also be a girl. So do I."

Scarred for life

Jian is not the only person at the school haunted by his memories.

After moving into the new site of the school, Jian became the class master of 54 students. At least 10 students in Jian's class lost relatives in the earthquake, and two of them were left disabled: One was left blind in one eye, and the other had his arm crippled.

"All of us, including those students whose family members and relatives survived the disaster, would burst into tears when we mention the topic of the Wenchuan earthquake," Jian said. "So we always try to control our emotions by not mentioning such issues."

"Every year, I cry together with all the students in my class several times," Jian said.

"It's easy to say 'let's be strong,' but it's difficult to practice."

Jian Jie, 18, a third-year senior high student whose best friend and classmate died during the earthquake, told the Global Times that he was frequently shaken by his memories.

"When the earthquake occurred and our school building started to collapse, I suggested my best friend jump out of the window from the third floor with me," he said. "Finally, I jumped and survived, and he was buried while running downstairs."

"I still remember when I asked him to jump out of the window with me. He smiled at me," he said.
"It was the last time that I saw his face, and I will never forget it."

He had to vent his feelings by playing basketball to the point of exhaustion. "By tiring myself, I distract myself from the sad memories."

For the older Jian, it is more difficult to get rid of the nightmares of the past.

"The media reports said we should 'reconstruct our minds', but I feel that sometimes this is impossible, especially for those who lost the people dearest to them," Jian said.