Shake hands with the so-called devil

Yesterday I did something I had yet to do in my journalism career: I interviewed a communist.
And I’m not talking about a bearded art student with hemp shoes and a Che Guavera t-shirt, who proclaims allegiance to Karl Marx. Rather, I spoke with an unelected official from the People’s Republic of China.
I was covering a story about a new brass instruments music program the Fiji government is trying to implement. However, instruments can be quite costly so the Fijians are asking the Land of the Rising Sun for a little help from a friend. After all, the Chinese – the kings of cheap manufacturing – are wholesaling saxophones for less than $100.
I met with China’s Ambassador to Fiji, Fei Mingxing.
This was my first time coming face-to-face with a real life Communist. Although I was born a little late to remember much of the Cold War, there’s still a lingering negative stigma attached to Communism. The “Us versus Them” attitude lives long beyond JFK, the Vietnam War and the fall of the Berlin Wall.
I can’t help but star at Mingxing during the press conference. It's like setting eyes on a rare and fabled species for the first time. But, by all accounts, he looks like any other Asian person I’d ever seen: he's short, wore rimless glasses and a short-sleeved button up shirt and has neatly cropped jet black hair.
Would he be rude to me because I’m a Western Capitalist? I wonder.
After the press conference I approach Mingxing and introduce myself. He flashes a warm smile and shakes my hand – firmly but not too hard.
I ask him a few questions about the music program and he responds in the typical diplomatic fashion. I thank him for his time and move on a little disappointed. He seemes like the countless other diplomats I’ve interviewed – except for his business card, which was cheap and flimsy.
So that was a Communist? This was the enemy that millions of Westerners grew up fearing and hating?
He didn’t seem evil like the villains depicted in James Bond films. Nor did he appear intent on converting me to Communism like numerous American presidents had often warned.
In fact, Mingxing isn’t all that different from me. He’s a foreigner working in an unfamiliar country. He probably gets starred at when he walks down the street or enters a room just like I do. Most likely he misses his friends and family back home, too. And, like me, he yearns for a home-cooked meal.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I have in common with Mingxing. And this led me to realize that all too often we dehumanize people with different political ideologies. But in the end, we’re all the same.