- George’s Tsing Tao tattoo
Apparently the drug trade in Shanghai is mainly run by a small group of Nigerians. These chaps especially love to deal coke, weed and smack. The Chinese authorities have become aware of this, and have attempted to crack down on it in typically ludicrous fashion. In April this year China executed its first Nigerian drug dealer after he was found guilty of trafficking an amount of heroin that would have made Downey Jr blush.
WORDS: GEORGE WYNDHAM
There were loads of rumors last year saying that the Chinese government were going to ban ALL black people from going into bars in Beijing during the Olympics. This sort of racist stumbling, political incorrect, and heavy handed attitude is pretty damn normal among those in the inner Communist party, who feel that people need to understand they run EVERYTHING out here. Their attitude is, “You fuck with the rules, you fuck with us. Now prepare to get beats.” All it takes is a small minority of troublemakers and the Chinese government will come down on all of you. The detaining of all Mexicans, ill or otherwise, during the swine flu episode is a classic example. No man shall pass, oh and that includes women and children too.
My first Saturday night in Shanghai I made friends with a guy called Bennie. We spent the night listening to Dubstep in a club called The Shelter, which is at the forefront of the local music scene here, apparently. Being the new guy in town I was pretty chatty with everyone and got talking to this chap who seemed nice enough. He bought me a beer and we had good little natter. Turns out Bennie, who is Nigerian, had been in Shanghai for a few years now selling a bit of this and that.
A sweet Italian girl named Claudia and I ended up going back to his flat where in clouds of pot smoke he suddenly turned to me, “Have you ever killed anyone?” he asked, lowering his voice. “No” I laughed. He didn’t seem to think it was funny. I felt I should return the question, “Why? Have you?” He stared at me meaningfully and after a lengthy pause said “…I’d rather not talk about it.” Then he laughed and turned to say something to one of his friends. The situation was getting strange and I suddenly felt like I’d outstayed my welcome. Claudia and I decided to head off. After we’d stopped giggling in the elevator, we decided to go for a walk together to clear our heads. The sun was rising and the many street food vendors were just emerging and firing up huge woks. On the way we saw some white doves still alive in a cage that looked a pretty sorry sight, so I bought one of them for around £2:50. We let it go in a nearby communal patch of grass with some trees on it. Watching the little fella saunter off into the morning was cool – even if his wings were clipped and he probably would get recaptured soon – it was still pretty fun.
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