The evening of October 30 was our annual Trick-or-Treating extravaganza, a night for our students to experience a mere sample of the extravagant American holiday. Every year we have lived in China, we have held this activiity. Obviously, it is popular and it does seem to grow incrementally each year as former students attempt to sneak in for another round of the festivities. Yet, as it is a come-and-go activity, few linger more than a handful of moments after snapping their photos and snatching candy. It really is one of our favorite nights and the students adore having a few minutes of unscripted fun.
Over the years, security guards have shown up to snap a few pictures and take a handful of candy. We have a good laugh and they just meander along the peripheral of the crowd. So, when the guards showed up this year, we thought nothing of it. However, as the night went on, we noticed more guards showing up. Again, nothing out of the ordinary as Chinese do love to clump. The students were not causing a ruckus, and we were snapping photos and handing out candy. After a rather large group came and went, I noticed Zach standing off to the side talking to our boss. That was unusual, but I chalked it up to her being on campus for some other reason. After a handful of minutes, Zach came over and whispered in my ear that we had to shut down. I was shocked and obviously inquired as to why.
Unbeknownst to us and basically every other Chinese person not in a high-level position, there was an edict from the mighty men on high that declared no Halloween anything. That is to say, the party crashed our party. Obviously, we were stunned and bewildered. Our boss kept apologizing profusely and saying that she was just the mouthpiece, but "some things had happened last year." Hence, the men on high were a wee bit sensitive this year and, in the local way, banned it all.
We were equally bewildered and bemused. The post-event messages from students were endearing, with many declaring it was the most fun they had had on campus. But, we also receiving messages from students who said they were contacted and told to delete all social media posts about the event. Then we started getting the notifications of bigger cities disbanding or arresting costumed revelers.
Zach and I joked with each other that by allowing the festivities, China could have boosted their fledgling economy, as it was projected that Americans would spend nearly $11.6 billion on the holiday this year.
However, before our cease-and-desist order was enacted, it was a splendid night. We actually dispersed candy for about and hour and a half, which involved the bulk of our students. For those who missed us, we told them to find us in the classroom and we would give them candy.
As for the coming years, we may have to get creative in our Halloween approach. However, as I told Zach, the mood swings of this adopted motherland are akin to a toddler's, so next year everything may be fine and we may be able to reconvene. Until then, this story is every bit wild as one could hope and may be known henceforth as the "Halloween Incident" or "The One Night That Candy and Costumes Sent the Leaders Into a Tizzy."
