Village Behind the Mountain
Article by Paul McIlwain
Only minutes out of Lijang town the road starts climbing dramatically. A few tight turns with increasingly precipitous drops and the sealed road turns to rock and dust. We are climbing the southern flank of Jade Dragon Snow Mountain in China’s Yunnan province. A number of flowering shrubs familiar to western gardeners are indigenous to these slopes. Many herbs, flowers, roots and varieties of fungus, highly valued in Chinese medicine, are also found here. Now the dry winter months have stripped the mountain meadows and woods of their normal vivid colors, but the scenery is still spectacular. The road continues to climb until the mountain’s shoulder hides the glacier and summit peak. Potato fields come into view, ploughed and barren at this season. Above, on the mountain side, among the stunted firs and pines, we glimpse village women in bright traditional dress cutting firewood.
We descend into a valley, skirting a nearly dry lake bed. It will fill again in a month or two with the spring rain and snow thaw. The road bisects a larger village; there are small signs of development, new houses, a guest house under construction, fields being prepared for commercial scale traditional medicine crops. It’s Sunday afternoon, young children are straggling in from the outlying villages and hamlets. They’ve come for a week of school, the first generation for whom at least a high-school education can be expected.The road, almost inconceivably, deteriorates further. We’ve circled the end of the range and are now looking at the “back” of Jade Dragon. A collection of timber, mud-brick and stone buildings – our destination – is dwarfed by the scree slopes and jagged crags of the 17,000 ft. mountain. This village is home to some fifty Yi families. One of the 55 official Chinese minorities, the Yi are said to be among the last to be “liberated” by the Communists. When a smiling Mr. Kong, our host for the evening, greets us at the gate of his courtyard, there’s no hint of the historic warlike reputation of his people. After the obligatory cup of tea by the fire, we wander up to where the yak herd is kept for the winter to forage on the lower slopes. Carrying nothing but our cameras, we are panting in the thin air. Our admiration grows for the hardy women who we know have been cutting firewood all day with heavy handmade axes. In the lengthening shadows they are heading home in ones and twos, some carrying large bundles on their heads while others are driving horses almost hidden beneath their loads.
The table and low stools have been cleared away. Old father Kong, an older brother, a cousin and two young men from the village are sitting with us on felt mats around the fire. The old man is contentedly smoking his homemade pipe and sipping on some vicious looking rice wine. The others, more progressive, are drinking Snow beer and smoking town-bought cigarettes.
Pork and yak meat (including blood sausages)Above our heads in the unvented smoke, hangs a year’s worth of pork, beef, yak hindquarters and blood sausage, black and shiny as ebony. We’ve been treated with choice portions of each of these in our recently finished dinner. Underneath the meat, at eye level for an overgrown westerner, is an unspecified animal’s gall-bladder used, we’re told, for divination purposes. In a dark corner is a small collection of plants tied in specific ways, probably to ward off evil. Each time a new bottle of beer is opened – a not infrequent event – a small portion is poured out on the floor as an unthinking libation to the spirits. These people, like their ancestors are animists, remaining largely untouched for centuries, millennia, by the ideologies of broader China. Daoism, Confucianism, Buddhism and Socialism have swirled outside their remote mountains with little effect on their lives or beliefs. But the modern world is impacting. Younger brother Kong is a ticket collector in the city. Teenage daughter hopes to be a teacher. Everyone but the old man periodically check their cell-phones for text messages. Our rice was cooked in an electric pot.
Later, gratefully climbing under thick quilts while the cold brittle moon shines into our guest quarters, we wonder for these friendly, hospitable people. What forces and ideas will shape the perspectives of Kong’s son? What events will impact this quiet backwater? What will the future hold for these people who live in the shadow of the mountain?
Paul McIlwain and Linda McIlwain are Travel Writers. You can learn more about Paul McIlwain at gullyandroad.com
Cleaningone3 | Malechocolate | Pahrump | Titainc Coal Necklace | Work Accident | best fish oil | Resources You Will Need For Use On Your Garden | Depuy Hip Replacement Recall | Musings concerning the Influence and Attain from the Press | the 10 most crucial tips about Search engine optimization for the online store | Cupcakes: Classic Combinations | Free Dating Sites Not Always Better | Sanyo TV Repair Naperville | What is a Digital Height Measuring Device and How to Use it | Misubishi | Types of Construction Contracts | Overview of Up and Over Garage Gate Company in Bristol | Seo is the science of driving targetted traffic to your website | Google Search
