APPENDIX 8 - A TRIP TO THE ORDOS 26 May

APPENDIX 8
A TRIP INTO THE ORDOS
I
t was a day to remember. After class in the morning I was wandering back
to my quarters, wondering what I was going to eat for lunch when one of my
‘minders’ came running up. “Quick Jean. Pack your case. You are taking a
trip into the ordos (desert) with Rashid and the train leaves in an hour”. Well,
things happen so quickly sometimes. I had little idea of the ordos and no idea
at all about Rashid, but felt all would be well if it had been arranged by the
Chinese authorities, so off I dashed and threw this and that into a case.
Three of we waiguos were going – two Americans, one a young girl – and I.
Rashid arrived. The leader – but not the President - of a Banner (group or
perhaps a tribe) – the Yi - way out in the Ordos. Rashid was a handsome
man about 60 years old. He had the kindest of faces, was really quite
beautiful. Mongolian is a delightful language if spoken well – very soft but
definite. In his village Rashid had organised a small museum to reflect the life
and times in his area, and this he was going to “open”. But he wanted
something ‘special’ and into this category we waiguos fitted.
Off we flew to the station to find the train already there. We were poked and
heaved onboard (no such thing as a platform in this instance) and off went the
train. We found ourselves in ‘hard class’ sleepers but that was OK. Lots of
fun trying – by gesticulation and our fractured Chinese – to talk with the other
passengers. We were given all sorts of ‘unmentionables’ to eat. It was very,
very hot, no air conditioning of course, and there was much smoking. But the
loos were better than those I had encountered between Beijing and Huhehot,
so for me that was a plus. And the attendants were just so smart – smokey
blue uniforms, white gloves.
We passed through the Da Qing mountains – brown, high formidable but very
grand. The terrain looked incredibly inhospitable. Brown dust everywhere
with a slight green sprinkle as trees had began to leaf a crops to ‘show’ after
the long, cold winter. One wondered on life spent there – it must have been
hard. Sheep and cattle began to appear in the fields west of Batou (coal
mining town). There were small villages dotted around, and the dogs we saw
were like huge long-legged huskies. Modernity raised its mighty head, too, in
the form of the use of plastic to protect newly-planted plants.
As we approached the Yellow River the land appeared marshy but there were
still no trees, the air full of dust and an air of desolation.
The end of our train journey was at Wu Hai where we arrived at 2am. Stayed
for a few hours in a Chinese style hotel – very clean and costing us 4Y (about
Aus.50c) with 25 fen (just over 5c. I think) for breakfast of youtiao and rice
gruel which was fine. Wu Hai means ‘black sea’ so called because of the
great coal mines there. But the city did not reflect this ‘blackness’. It seemed
full of vitality.
After breakfast we were off again out into the wild yonder in jeeps. Not the
‘blue’ yonder either – the air was heavily laden with dust, so much so that the
sun appeared just as a lighter patch of grey/brownness. Apparently the air
remains like this for most of the year and has done so for about 50 years.
The reason – overgrazing and cultivation after the Chinese were sent there
during the ‘reign’ of Mao Zedong. The ground was bare and windswept, with
in some parts short, spiky, Spinifex-type bushes.
We passed many small herds – a few cattle but mostly goats, donkeys,
sheep. Wild camels grazed about – all looking very ragged as they were
losing their winter coats. What they could find to eat and live on one cannot
imagine.
After about two hours of physical hell as the jeep leapt from rock to rock,
through ditches and on again we were told we were ‘nearly there’. But before
actually arriving at Rashid’s village there was to be a traditional ‘welcome’.
The President of the Banner would welcome us. Suddenly as we breasted a
rise through the murk we could discern ghostly. The jeeps stopped, we
walked the rest of the way up the rise and there was the President with three
beautiful Mongolian girls. Everyone dressed in traditional costume.
The official meeting
Still the wind blew and the dust swirled about We were taken a few yards to a
small shrine set up especially for us. On the Shrine was a roast sheep, head
turned towards the guests (us) and we sat down cross-legged on small
carpets. Round came the glasses of fermented mares milk and bai jio (white
wine made there from sorghum – lethal and to my taste quite revolting). The
wind roared around us and our eyes, ears and mouths filled with dust. But we
did all that was expected of us and listened to our welcome, delivered of
course in Mongolian. I marvelled at all the thought which had gone into our
visit – all the kindness. I marvelled, too, at the elegance and courtesy of our
hosts who lived this secluded life way out in the ordos.
It was with something akin to relief that we proceeded to the small town where
all was to take place. And we were taken to our ‘quarters’. Small huts with
dirt floors, a small coal-fired heater if needed, two very hard beds, a basin and
jug of water. All so lovingly prepared for us and I marvelled once again at the
thought which had gone into this amazing trip.
We lunched with the President – very good – nice rice and loud belches from
the President. Then we had tea with Rashid in his own house. This was quite
large – two-storeyed. From the dirt road we entered his domain through a
stone arch and very small and dusty garden with pigs, ducks, chooks all
milling around. The ‘facilities’ we discovered were shared by the whole
neighbourhood and were best ignored if that were possible. But Rashid
produced a marvellous afternoon tea of pancakes, small bread sticks and
bones again. The Mongolians love boiling up bones of all sorts and these are
given one to chew and then to throw over one’s shoulder. I was to meet them
often during my sojourns in Inner Mongolia, but could never really ‘chew’
them!! Henry the Eighth must have learned from them. There was also
Mongolian milk tea, which I love and bottled fruit. Music played the whole
time – beautiful – and as usual there was much toasting with the dreaded bai
jiu. I wondered what we would be like by the evening when there was to be a
village reception for us!!
Evening found us in the
village restaurant where
the toasting all began
again!! Round came the
bai jiu, offered by
beautiful Mongolian girls
in full regalia who sang
to each of us as the host
offered the drink. And
one had to drink THREE
of these glasses for
each host – and there
were many hosts.
Bai Jiu they made me do it
Beautiful waitresses
I looked imploringly at
Rashid who got the
message and said loud and clear that “Jean is to
be given wine instead”. Well, from the state of my
head I don’t know really which was worse – bai jiu
or the sweet wine!!
The meal was terrific – hot pot, many smaller dishes and the mandatory
bones again!!. Afterwards came an exciting concert – Mongolian singing,
dancing, marvellous traditional costumes and the P.A. system in constant
break-down mode.
The town – Wu Lan Zhen – was small. The population of the entire Yi Banner
was only about 16,000 Mongolians and 12,000 Chinese. However,
considering the vast wastelands surrounding the town the inhabitants had
kept it well. There were green trees and many new and important-looking
buildings. My Chinese and total lack of the Mongolian language precluded
me from asking how the town was funded, and I wondered about this
considering the desert through which we had come and there didn’t seem
much ‘activity’ in the town.
Finally we took our raging heads to bed in the
wee small hours, to be up again early for the
festivities surrounding the reason for our being
there which we found to be the opening of a
Museum of which Rashid and the population was
just so proud.
Again, as guests of honour, we were asked to sit
on carpets in front of an altar, the trident of
Genghis Khan at one end flying a banner, the
usual roast sheep in the centre with its poor burnt
face towards us. Round and round the altar
walked a Sharman intoning prayers. We sat in
silence, marvelling at all we had seen and heard.
Once this was all over we were taken inside to
the exhibition. And it was so interesting. The
citizens of Wu Lan Zhen had collected all manner
of artefacts.
Ancient cheese maker
There were traditional robes, ornate
Mongolian boots and equally ornate
pony saddles, old pictures, old
donkey saddles, firearms, musical
instruments, an ancient yoghurtmaker, copper artefacts, skin
containers, an old cheese-making
rack, a water trough, a
kummiss (mare’s milk’) distillation
plant, branding irons, castration irons
(hopefully only for animals) and all
sorts of domestic appliances of long
ago. There were also embroidered
bands for the heads of horses,
embroidered pouches to hang from sashes. The list was endless and
everything fascinating.
After the visiting the exhibition we were invited to give our impressions of it
and to make suggestions. Mine were –
l.
2.
3.
4.
Have a short film made and shown before entering the exhibition.
(This was possible as the Mongolians use videos).
Keep the rare books under glass
Keep exhibits off the floor
Try to find more space as many of the exhibits were crowded.
Bai Jiu again
Escape me never!!. In
the evening there was
yet another wild
Mongolian party.
Delicious eats which
were largely left as
nearly everyone drank
instead
– vast quantities of bai
jiu. Some of our party
became drunk. I admit
to an excruciating
headache!!
Mongolians sure know
how to party!!
Next day, after breakfast, we were shown a video of a traditional Mongolian
wedding. My thoughts flew to Australia because on that day my niece and
Goddaughter, Julia, was to be married. I couldn’t but reflect on the contrast
between the two weddings.
At 4pm we packed eleven of us and two drivers into two jeeps and then took
our aching heads on the most awful ride back to Wu Hai preparatory to our
journey back to Huhehot. When we got there we found a muddle with the
tickets. There were none available for the fast train at 9 pm and so we had to
wait for the slow one at 4am. Luckily we were given beds at the hotel – and a
bathroom EACH with hot water available for a very short span on the hours of
8, 9 and 10pm!! We surely needed a bath, and so hurriedly downed a
delicious Chinese meal (in a filthy restaurant), and then dashed to our
bathrooms.
At 3.40am we walked to the station – train on time as usual – and by dint of
tipping out sleeping Chinese the conductress produced a berth for each of us.
Hard Class is OK but filthy and the loos were disgusting! Nevertheless, for
what we had experienced in Wu Lan Zhen this was a small price to pay. The
trip took 15 hours, and whereas on the way down the train had been full of
rollicking and fun Mongolians, on the trip back it was full of Chinese. Rather
dour and hoicking and spitting as usual. This last aspect of Chinese culture
was never to come to terms with. I just hated it.
There was much to think about after this incredible experience out in the
Ordos. As usual I found myself marvelling at the kindness and thoughtfulness
we had encountered. This, I might say, happened to me all through my
‘Chinese’ experience, from the Han Chinese and from people I met from all
the areas around. And on reflection I certainly believe that stripped of the
trappings of wealth, of the power of bureaucracy, of the power religion and of
the power of potentates and unrelenting government—not necessarily in that
order - the peoples of the world are so similar in their needs.
Perhaps that was Karl Marx’s belief, but unfortunately it could not be imposed
from the top, and must grow from the bottom.
Anyway, our trip to the Ordos with the most understanding Rashid was one of
the wonders of my life.
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