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Healing power of song

By Zhu Dan and Guo Shuhan (China Daily)
Updated: 2009-01-23 09:04

It was a chilly January night and the town of Leigu in Beichuan county, Sichuan province, was quiet except for a small three-story house up on the hill. The sound of music filtered out of a window and echoed through the town, one of the worst damaged areas in last year's May 12 earthquake.

Music is a good therapy for victims of the May 12 earthquake. Quanjing

Two girls and two boys were singing and dancing in one room while some middle-aged men and women chatted in another. More people kept filing in and out.

This was no ordinary house, though, but a community KTV, albeit a humble one, with only five rooms, an old karaoke system and rusty microphones.

"I think I did the right thing opening this KTV," says Xiang Xinyong, who launched it in late September, four months after the devastating quake.

Since opening, this simple venue has become a place for local people to heal their souls. From sentimental love songs to light folk music and happy pop songs, it has become part of the long, hard process of easing people back to normal life. They spend 30 yuan ($4.3) an hour to pour out their sorrow and frustration.

"Being a man, there is no excuse for losing heart, no matter how much pain he has suffered," says 30-something Xiang as he sits quietly in a corner and another melody fills the air.

Xiang still remembers the KTV's early days. The rooms were packed on opening day and many people insisted on continuing the whole night. In the following four months, the KTV has attracted a variety of visitors from Leigu and nearby. Nearly all the locals and those from nearby temporary shelters have popped in to sing. Many couldn't help weeping as they sang their favorite songs.

Xiang may not have known their names but he shared their grief and relief. He remembers one particular young woman who visited many times with her friends. When she first went, she sat alone in the corner without saying a word, staying silent all night, grief written all over her face. She finally chose a heartbreaking love song, Be Your Lover, and her cheeks were bathed in tears as she sang.

The woman was left alone. "People here were used to seeing tears," says Xiang. "We believed crying to be the best way to comfort ourselves."

Xiang later learned that the woman and her husband had both worked in the town hospital, he as a doctor and she as a nurse. The earthquake destroyed their life when it claimed her husband.

The young woman would regularly visit the KTV and sing the same love song.

Every time, she cried.

"But recently, I noticed she came less and one the last two occasions didn't sing the same song," Xiang says. "I hope she is recovering."

Huang, a young man in his late 20s, is another regular. He and his friends travel from several kilometers away. Huang lost his parents in the earthquake and for some time stayed at home all day and didn't utter a word. "I was in extraordinary despair," he told Xiang. "I felt everything was meaningless to me.

"Thanks to my friends, I stepped out of the shadow," he says. His friends invited him to the KTV in October and Huang found that singing out loud provided him with a release for his pent-up grief.

The middle-aged people in the other room were somewhat mild compared to the young. Among them, a man named Zhou was busy entertaining his friends. "Before November, Zhou was definitely another person," says a friend.

Zhou once ran a factory in town and was relatively well-off. The quake changed everything. His wife, mother and mother-in-law all died in the tragedy. Indulging in KTV with his friends has gradually restored his peace of mind. He is now preparing for a new factory and even allowing for the possibility of having a new woman in his life.

Xiang himself lost his parents in the earthquake, so when people vent their emotions, he sits quietly in a corner, listening to the songs and watching people change from weak to strong.

Xiang Xinyong hangs a special decoration on the window of his KTV to celebrate the coming Spring Festival. Liu Chenping

It was back in 2000 that Xiang transformed the second floor of his three-story house into a KTV. He then invested 300,000 yuan ($44,000) to expand the business six months before the May 12 earthquake. Everything is gone.

"Spending the night alone is usually the most difficult thing for people who lost their beloved ones. Singing gives them temporary relief," says Xiang, who started the KTV with audio and video machines he unearthed from the rubble of his collapsed house.

"Since late December I have heard fewer sad songs and less weeping people," he says. "I believe more and more people are recovering from the pain."

Spring Festival is coming, Xiang uses big red Chinese knots to decorate his KTV. He doesn't plan to close it during the holiday. He believes there must be some people who would like to get together in this happy moment.

"There still needs to be a platform for those people to relieve themselves, particularly in the holiday season," he says.