Tree in a Box

BEIJING - This campus operates on a peculiar rhythm. Things happen in ways that seem illogical, but somehow they always seem to get done. At times my life is a constant kabuki performance, with no one around to explain the meaning behind the elaborate rituals.

Take the mystery of the scaffold tree. Three weeks ago, a dozen or so laborers appeared in the courtyard between my dormitory and its immediate neighbor. They wore matching yellow hats and dirty jeans. Probably migrants, these men spent two long days erecting a structure around a tree in the middle of the courtyard. A frame of thick metal poles boxed in the tree, whose thin upper branches looked pithy in comparsion.

After finishing, the workers wrapped large pieces of translucent plastic around the outside of the lattice work and headed home. Whatever they had come to do was now finished.

In my bike rides and walks around campus, I came across a few other trees covered in the same manner. The dressed trees were all middle-aged, neither new saplings planted to stave off erosion nor the thick trunks that date from the Qing Dyansty. They all appeared healthy, although it's hard to tell the health of a plant in winter on the other side of a plastic sheet.

I can't figure out why the university spent money on constructing these tree fences. At first I thought they were created as a precursor to removal, but no trees have fallen. It occured to me that these might be some type of protection against Beijing's spring sand storms. But today the city had its fiercest winds yet, and I saw the group of workers reappear. They weren't at my tree, but one a couple dorms to the north. They wore the same yellow hats and old clothes. This time they came not to build, but dismantle. So far my tree is untouched, but I'm sure they will come for it soon.

When they do, I hope they'll be in a mood to answer a couple questions. Neither the building staff nor my classmates seem to have any idea about these plastic towers. Hopefully with a little conversation I can tap into this campus' strange rhythm.