Monday, April 05, 2004
CHINA - A NATION OF VILLAGES
See photos related to this posting in the new Yahoo photo album (will open in a new browser window).
We’ve been pretty focused on life in Huairou and especially life at Huairou Yi Zhong since we arrived here in August. All the cold winter long we have been as tightly closed as the buds of the magnolia trees which decorate the many open spaces here. But now the warmer days of early spring have arrived, and like the good sized magnolia tree at Huairou Yi Zhong, we have begun to open out. As spring advances, we have felt the urge to get beyond the urban life. Therefore when our VP Gao Ji Lai invited us for a drive into the mountains west and north of Huairou last Saturday, we jumped at the chance. One of the English teachers at the school, who is our Chinese teacher, Xu Ke, came with us. For transport, Mr.Gao had booked out the school van, which he drives with great skill and certain nonchalance. The day was cool and bright, with the very earliest flowering trees showing small pink blossoms along the roadside. Most everything else was still brown and very, very dry -- lots of dust. There has been no precipitation of any kind here since February 20th. In fact, in a recent news story we learned that Beijing and the region surrounding it have been in drought conditions for the past five years.
An important fact of Chinese life is that 61% of China’s population lives in the endless small hamlets, villages and towns that dot the countryside. In 1982 it was 79%. Many Chinese we’ve spoken to here still retain strong ties to their “home villages”, often returning to reconnect with friends and relatives at festival times and in the hot summer. Locally the mountain villages are seen as a cool retreat from Beijing’s blazing summer. That 18% drop in China’s rural population has been steadily moving to China’s cities. The movement of population is inevitable and has historic precedent in similar population shifts which have taken place in Europe, Canada and America. The cities are where the jobs are, or at the very least they have the potential of offering employment. Thus more and more Chinese are becoming urban people. As with past historic precedent, the village will be a memory shrouded in romantic myth and warm sentiment.
In fact village life is hard. It offers few of the amenities of the urban life style. Indeed the disparities of rural and urban income have been an important focus of concern at the latest People’s Congress held in March in Beijing. The Ministry of Education now will budget greater amounts of funds for rural schools. When your annual income is 6000 Yuan and you have no work once spring tree planting is over, as one villager revealed to us, then one can appreciate how close to the line villagers live. With the movements of population, about 20 million a year, China must create the equivalent of a large North American city each month. The implications of the mass movement of population and growth are important, not only for China, but for all of us on this planet. It has been truly said of China, that “population is destiny”. Our visit beyond our narrow, limited view in Huairou brought this fact home to us again.
As we headed west, we encountered numerous travelers on bicycles and motorcycles, the favoured modes of transport here, and carts pulled by donkeys or by small three-wheeled trucks, the standard workhorse of this farming area. Buses, cars and the occasional SUV whizzed by in the other direction. Mr. Gao ducked back into our lane when he saw them approaching. Otherwise, he passed everything in our path. Our first stop was at a farm village, home to the many families who work the land around the village. Lanes run at right angles to the main road, separating the family compounds on either side. All is built of red brick, from the high walls which surround each house, to the kang which serves as the heated bed for the family on cold winter nights. We were invited into one of the compounds by a very welcoming husband and wife, friends of our VP, who before becoming an educator was a leader in a factory. He knows many, many people in this area. Inside the high wall, buildings surround a courtyard where we could see early plantings of vegetables just beginning to show green above the ground. We were escorted into the main living area, a building in itself, used for watching TV, sitting, visiting, eating, playing mahjong and card games, where we had tea and tiny yellow pears from the fall harvest. Xu Ke translated for us as we thanked them for their hospitality and talked about their family and ours. They were thrilled to have us visit them. Our small glasses of tea were constantly replenished as soon as we had a mouthful. Their dog continued to bark loudly throughout our visit -- a combination of instinct and excitement had wound him up. Adjoining rooms were bedrooms, with large beds neatly piled with quilts and pillows, ready for nightfall.
Outside each house compound were neat piles of twigs and small tree branches, as well as dry corn stalks, ready for fuel. Each family had a donkey parked outside, tied to a tree, munching on dried grass and watching us warily. Xu Ke, a city girl all her life, gave a wide berth to all dogs and donkeys, warning us away from them as we approached closer for a pat and a few words. In the distance the mountains rose around us, many terraced in narrow rows across the rising mountainside, used as a way to trap precious rainfall long enough for the parched earth to absorb it.
Our next stop was a small primary and middle school in another village. We parked in front of the gate, and walked into the school grounds, Mr.Gao greeting the gate keeper who was obviously an old friend. On the playground beyond a tangle of bikes, several boys played a pick up game of basketball, the most popular sport for students in our area. How they love basketball, especially the NBA and Michael Jordan! On the far side of the playground were the dormitories for students who live too far away to come every day -- 6 to 8 bunk beds per room. And the dormitories for teachers, a few single rooms but mostly 2 to a room. Wash basins with mugs, tooth brushes and toothpaste were stored under each bed. Thermoses for hot water lined the walls. The classroom building was quite new, three storeys high, the familiar brick construction faced with white stucco. Mr. Gao told us that from a school population of 500, about 10 students from this school came to Huairou Yi Zhong every year.
Onwards we went, the mighty van climbing steadily until we were above many of the lower surrounding mountains, looking down into small villages far below and across to terraced hillsides and fields of walnut orchards. Rivers, whose beds were now mostly dry, had been mined for gravel by nearby residents, leaving large deep holes behind. Farmers were working the land with rakes and shovels, turning the soil, smoothing the surface, ready for seeds and small plants. Gangs of men worked to repair lanes and rebuild walls and sheds. Women stood at the roadside chatting and catching up on the local news. Older people sat at tiny chairs around tiny tables playing cards, Chinese chess and mahjong.
Soon, off to our left, we caught a glimpse of the Great Wall. Our first thought was that we were going to the Mutianyu section, which is about 30 minutes north of Huairou. But no, we were on our way to another section of the wall, one which has not been rebuilt. So much of this section was visible through the van windows that both of us were madly taking photos, trying to snap between the fence posts and rows of trees which lined the road. Finally we rounded a bend and dead ahead was a section of the wall, crumbled but still identifiable, rising up a long hill to a watch tower above, and then ambling off along the crest of a large hill beyond, and then out of sight. When we left the van, we were immediately surrounded by several elderly men and women, intent on selling us postcards, jewellery and small bags of nuts. Even though Xu Ke told us that they were charging too much for these items, we paid their asking price for postcards and nuts. Once we’d bought these, they stopped bothering us. Now we could take a closer look at where we were.
A rubble stone foundation on the far side of the road indicated that the road had been cut through the wall at some time in the past. As we moved ahead, we walked on a high concrete wall which was one side of a huge reservoir. The drop on either side was a good 30 meters -- and there were no guard rails or indeed, anything to hold onto. The walking surface was about 2 meters wide. Although our VP and Xu Ke were game to walk across and explore the wall beyond, Judy was getting weak kneed and looking very apprehensive about the heights. We stayed where we were, talked about this section of the wall, called Huang Hua Cheng (Yellow Flower City) and about how popular it was for people who really liked to hike and climb. We could see people far above us walking in both directions, and many SUVs parked on the side of the road, loaded with gear for all occasions. There were a few small basic hostels along the road so that avid climbers could spend a weekend here. Perhaps another time when we were better equipped, we will return for a longer stay.
We next visited Mr. Gao’s home village, which is now part of the city of Huairou. This large village has been recently reconstructed - some time over the past 10 years - and is very neat and tidy, with paved lanes and efficient drainage gutters along all roads. Here we visited many of his aunts and uncles, and were invited into several houses for short visits. Soon a cluster of kids found us and we were speaking English to them so they could practice their latest primary school English lessons -- “Hello!” “Where are you going?” “How old are you?” “What’s your name?” They are eager to ask questions, but not very skilled in answering them!
As we headed to the Gao’s apartment for dinner, we made one more visit. This time to another village within the city limits where a farm couple raise pigs. And pigs there were, in many sizes! The couple was feeding them their dinner, a combination of corn mash and scraps collected from several area restaurants. We discussed breeding and feeding and weight requirements and selling practices, feeling right at home because of our rural life in Grey County.
Mr. Gao’s wife, mother and two sons, Bruce and Carter, greeted us at the door of their very modern, new and spacious apartment, and soon we were eating a delicious variety of dishes, both hot and cold, including sausage, donkey meat, stir fried sea food, tomato and egg, and dumplings, the traditional food of welcome and celebration. Bruce and Carter were keen to practice their English, and we had lively conversations with them both, about school, their lessons and sports events.
Although we were only a half dozen blocks from our apartment, Mr. Gao insisted on driving us home. Chinese hospitality is warm, sincere and all inclusive, no matter what your station in life. All in all, it was a day which drove home the fact that China is more than the glories of the Forbidden City, the luxuries of Wangfujing shopping and the grandeur of the Ming Tombs. It is, after all, a nation of villages.
See photos related to this posting in the new Yahoo photo album (will open in a new browser window).
We’ve been pretty focused on life in Huairou and especially life at Huairou Yi Zhong since we arrived here in August. All the cold winter long we have been as tightly closed as the buds of the magnolia trees which decorate the many open spaces here. But now the warmer days of early spring have arrived, and like the good sized magnolia tree at Huairou Yi Zhong, we have begun to open out. As spring advances, we have felt the urge to get beyond the urban life. Therefore when our VP Gao Ji Lai invited us for a drive into the mountains west and north of Huairou last Saturday, we jumped at the chance. One of the English teachers at the school, who is our Chinese teacher, Xu Ke, came with us. For transport, Mr.Gao had booked out the school van, which he drives with great skill and certain nonchalance. The day was cool and bright, with the very earliest flowering trees showing small pink blossoms along the roadside. Most everything else was still brown and very, very dry -- lots of dust. There has been no precipitation of any kind here since February 20th. In fact, in a recent news story we learned that Beijing and the region surrounding it have been in drought conditions for the past five years.
An important fact of Chinese life is that 61% of China’s population lives in the endless small hamlets, villages and towns that dot the countryside. In 1982 it was 79%. Many Chinese we’ve spoken to here still retain strong ties to their “home villages”, often returning to reconnect with friends and relatives at festival times and in the hot summer. Locally the mountain villages are seen as a cool retreat from Beijing’s blazing summer. That 18% drop in China’s rural population has been steadily moving to China’s cities. The movement of population is inevitable and has historic precedent in similar population shifts which have taken place in Europe, Canada and America. The cities are where the jobs are, or at the very least they have the potential of offering employment. Thus more and more Chinese are becoming urban people. As with past historic precedent, the village will be a memory shrouded in romantic myth and warm sentiment.
In fact village life is hard. It offers few of the amenities of the urban life style. Indeed the disparities of rural and urban income have been an important focus of concern at the latest People’s Congress held in March in Beijing. The Ministry of Education now will budget greater amounts of funds for rural schools. When your annual income is 6000 Yuan and you have no work once spring tree planting is over, as one villager revealed to us, then one can appreciate how close to the line villagers live. With the movements of population, about 20 million a year, China must create the equivalent of a large North American city each month. The implications of the mass movement of population and growth are important, not only for China, but for all of us on this planet. It has been truly said of China, that “population is destiny”. Our visit beyond our narrow, limited view in Huairou brought this fact home to us again.
As we headed west, we encountered numerous travelers on bicycles and motorcycles, the favoured modes of transport here, and carts pulled by donkeys or by small three-wheeled trucks, the standard workhorse of this farming area. Buses, cars and the occasional SUV whizzed by in the other direction. Mr. Gao ducked back into our lane when he saw them approaching. Otherwise, he passed everything in our path. Our first stop was at a farm village, home to the many families who work the land around the village. Lanes run at right angles to the main road, separating the family compounds on either side. All is built of red brick, from the high walls which surround each house, to the kang which serves as the heated bed for the family on cold winter nights. We were invited into one of the compounds by a very welcoming husband and wife, friends of our VP, who before becoming an educator was a leader in a factory. He knows many, many people in this area. Inside the high wall, buildings surround a courtyard where we could see early plantings of vegetables just beginning to show green above the ground. We were escorted into the main living area, a building in itself, used for watching TV, sitting, visiting, eating, playing mahjong and card games, where we had tea and tiny yellow pears from the fall harvest. Xu Ke translated for us as we thanked them for their hospitality and talked about their family and ours. They were thrilled to have us visit them. Our small glasses of tea were constantly replenished as soon as we had a mouthful. Their dog continued to bark loudly throughout our visit -- a combination of instinct and excitement had wound him up. Adjoining rooms were bedrooms, with large beds neatly piled with quilts and pillows, ready for nightfall.
Outside each house compound were neat piles of twigs and small tree branches, as well as dry corn stalks, ready for fuel. Each family had a donkey parked outside, tied to a tree, munching on dried grass and watching us warily. Xu Ke, a city girl all her life, gave a wide berth to all dogs and donkeys, warning us away from them as we approached closer for a pat and a few words. In the distance the mountains rose around us, many terraced in narrow rows across the rising mountainside, used as a way to trap precious rainfall long enough for the parched earth to absorb it.
Our next stop was a small primary and middle school in another village. We parked in front of the gate, and walked into the school grounds, Mr.Gao greeting the gate keeper who was obviously an old friend. On the playground beyond a tangle of bikes, several boys played a pick up game of basketball, the most popular sport for students in our area. How they love basketball, especially the NBA and Michael Jordan! On the far side of the playground were the dormitories for students who live too far away to come every day -- 6 to 8 bunk beds per room. And the dormitories for teachers, a few single rooms but mostly 2 to a room. Wash basins with mugs, tooth brushes and toothpaste were stored under each bed. Thermoses for hot water lined the walls. The classroom building was quite new, three storeys high, the familiar brick construction faced with white stucco. Mr. Gao told us that from a school population of 500, about 10 students from this school came to Huairou Yi Zhong every year.
Onwards we went, the mighty van climbing steadily until we were above many of the lower surrounding mountains, looking down into small villages far below and across to terraced hillsides and fields of walnut orchards. Rivers, whose beds were now mostly dry, had been mined for gravel by nearby residents, leaving large deep holes behind. Farmers were working the land with rakes and shovels, turning the soil, smoothing the surface, ready for seeds and small plants. Gangs of men worked to repair lanes and rebuild walls and sheds. Women stood at the roadside chatting and catching up on the local news. Older people sat at tiny chairs around tiny tables playing cards, Chinese chess and mahjong.
Soon, off to our left, we caught a glimpse of the Great Wall. Our first thought was that we were going to the Mutianyu section, which is about 30 minutes north of Huairou. But no, we were on our way to another section of the wall, one which has not been rebuilt. So much of this section was visible through the van windows that both of us were madly taking photos, trying to snap between the fence posts and rows of trees which lined the road. Finally we rounded a bend and dead ahead was a section of the wall, crumbled but still identifiable, rising up a long hill to a watch tower above, and then ambling off along the crest of a large hill beyond, and then out of sight. When we left the van, we were immediately surrounded by several elderly men and women, intent on selling us postcards, jewellery and small bags of nuts. Even though Xu Ke told us that they were charging too much for these items, we paid their asking price for postcards and nuts. Once we’d bought these, they stopped bothering us. Now we could take a closer look at where we were.
A rubble stone foundation on the far side of the road indicated that the road had been cut through the wall at some time in the past. As we moved ahead, we walked on a high concrete wall which was one side of a huge reservoir. The drop on either side was a good 30 meters -- and there were no guard rails or indeed, anything to hold onto. The walking surface was about 2 meters wide. Although our VP and Xu Ke were game to walk across and explore the wall beyond, Judy was getting weak kneed and looking very apprehensive about the heights. We stayed where we were, talked about this section of the wall, called Huang Hua Cheng (Yellow Flower City) and about how popular it was for people who really liked to hike and climb. We could see people far above us walking in both directions, and many SUVs parked on the side of the road, loaded with gear for all occasions. There were a few small basic hostels along the road so that avid climbers could spend a weekend here. Perhaps another time when we were better equipped, we will return for a longer stay.
We next visited Mr. Gao’s home village, which is now part of the city of Huairou. This large village has been recently reconstructed - some time over the past 10 years - and is very neat and tidy, with paved lanes and efficient drainage gutters along all roads. Here we visited many of his aunts and uncles, and were invited into several houses for short visits. Soon a cluster of kids found us and we were speaking English to them so they could practice their latest primary school English lessons -- “Hello!” “Where are you going?” “How old are you?” “What’s your name?” They are eager to ask questions, but not very skilled in answering them!
As we headed to the Gao’s apartment for dinner, we made one more visit. This time to another village within the city limits where a farm couple raise pigs. And pigs there were, in many sizes! The couple was feeding them their dinner, a combination of corn mash and scraps collected from several area restaurants. We discussed breeding and feeding and weight requirements and selling practices, feeling right at home because of our rural life in Grey County.
Mr. Gao’s wife, mother and two sons, Bruce and Carter, greeted us at the door of their very modern, new and spacious apartment, and soon we were eating a delicious variety of dishes, both hot and cold, including sausage, donkey meat, stir fried sea food, tomato and egg, and dumplings, the traditional food of welcome and celebration. Bruce and Carter were keen to practice their English, and we had lively conversations with them both, about school, their lessons and sports events.
Although we were only a half dozen blocks from our apartment, Mr. Gao insisted on driving us home. Chinese hospitality is warm, sincere and all inclusive, no matter what your station in life. All in all, it was a day which drove home the fact that China is more than the glories of the Forbidden City, the luxuries of Wangfujing shopping and the grandeur of the Ming Tombs. It is, after all, a nation of villages.
All text and photography © copyright Harkaway, 2003 - 2004
