Once Upon A Time In Xinjiang
My ErJiu's Field of Dreams - Part One
In the Chinese language, every kinship has its unique name. ErJiu means “the second uncle on Mother’s side.”
I have three uncles on my mom’s side. Uncle No. 2, ErJiu, was my favorite one.
My first memory of ErJiu was him telling stories at the dinner table during his family-visit holiday from Xinjiang. I was the only kid lingering at the table after each family meal. ErJiu, still a young and handsome man in his late 20s, beaming with pride at the center of the family crowd, told his stories from the Great Northwest—cotton fields with no end in sight, basketball tournaments on dirt courts, and the orchard night-watcher’s shed on moonlit summer nights. Some details may have faded with time, but I will never forget the feeling of being mesmerized. In a five-year-old’s imagination, ErJiu's world was a fascinating story land far from my world, our garden house in Shanghai. What a five-year-old did not understand, was that for ErJiu it was a world of hardship and possibilities.
These were his stories. Stories about a place that once held the many dreams of his generation.
Our Xinjiang a wondrous place
grazing herds in verdant pasture, beauty abounds Tianshan’s north and south
Melting snows feed the grounds
barren dunes now fertile land
Golden wheat and fragrant rice
lush grass swayed by breeze, cattle and sheep appear
Sweet grape and melon, flavors divine
coal iron and silver, hidden treasures of the earth
Our Xinjiang a beautiful place
the cherished land we call home
- lyrics of a popular song from the 1950’s
1. Prelude—Shanghai
ErJiu’s given name was Qiu-Yi—seeking strength. It should have been seeking intelligence because he was considered the smartest in the extended family. Great things were expected from him. His father, my grandpa, sent him to a well-respected dental practice to be an apprentice while he was still in middle school.
The dream of going to college and owning a private dental practice was shattered when the father was denounced as an “anti-revolutionist” shortly after Mao’s new government took power in 1949. Qiu-Yi’s father was the headmaster of a Christian School and held a part-time post with the National Government. These titles became the basis of his 15-year jail sentence. Now for Qiu-Yi, the son of an anti-revolutionist, college admission and a state-sanctioned job became unrealistic tales.
Four years after high school graduation, the place he had called home—the city of Shanghai—could no longer offer him an official residence. The “Neighborhood Committee” officials began visiting the garden house. They pressured the family matriarch, my grandma, to demonstrate support for the government policy while her husband was serving out the prison sentence. The atmosphere in the house started to feel congested and tense. Qiu-Yi became restless.
When the girl he was courting announced her intention to follow the party’s direction to move to Xinjiang, it did not take too much for her to persuade the 22-year-old Qiu-Yi to put his name on the volunteer roster and start packing up. Little did they know that fate would put the mighty TianShan1 mountain range in between them, and their relationship would come to an ebb.
2. Xinjiang, a Wondrous Place
China faced high unemployment among middle and high school graduates in its cities during the 1950s, while rural provinces grappled with severe labor shortages. China is approximately the same size as the United States but with only half of the States’ arable land2. The situation was much direr at the beginning of the 1950s. A “Land Transformation” movement—turning deserts into farmlands and forests—began shortly after the new Chinese government took power. The military-turned-civilian divisions called Production & Construction Groups led the movement in Xinjiang, a 642,800 mi² region of deserts and mountains in northwest China. Mao’s slogan “The sheer will of men can conquer nature” could be seen on red banners and heard over the loudspeakers everywhere.
Xinjiang was established as an Autonomous Region in 1955. The audacious goals of the land transformation movement faced a particularly harsh reality in Xinjiang: the sparse population of Han—the majority ethnicity of China—coupled with the language and cultural differences with the Aboriginal minority ethnicity groups. The government desperately needed a young and educated labor force. To address the challenges, the central government devised policies to place educated city youth “up to the mountains and down to the fields,” using Mao’s words, to “receive re-education from the farmers.”
What began as a workforce redistribution, soon turned into a grassroots political movement.
***
Summer of 1964, Shanghai. With “Our Xinjiang a Wondrous Place” playing on loudspeakers, Qiu-Yi stepped on the Xinjiang bounded train. The cars were packed with high-spirited and hopeful young people like him, seeking a brighter future and at the same time escaping the shadow of a condemned family background. Qiu-Yi’s train car had 27 youngsters from the same neighborhood, most still teenagers. He was the oldest amongst them and was appointed as the leader of the group. There was no time to get acquainted before the train started chugging out of the Shanghai North Station.
“Grazing herds in verdant pasture, beauty abounds Tianshan’s north and south,” the popular song echoed inside the car, interrupted only by the carefree laughter.
At the end of the first day, familiar scenes of cities and cultivated fields started to disappear into the rearview, and in their place loomed barren hills and sandy dunes. They were heading toward the vast land of the sparsely inhabited Great Northwest of China, towards the Gobi Desert. As if the sandstorm outside blew away the energy inside, the car gradually grew quiet.
Three days and two nights after it left Shanghai, the train pulled into Urumqi, the capital of Xinjiang. Outside of the train, instead of golden wheat and fragrant rice, there was yellow dirt. The vast and endless yellow dirt covered everything and stretched as far as one could see. Inside the train, girls clutched each other’s hands as if to combine their courage, and boys appeared indifferent as if to avoid showing any sign of weakness. In silence, euphoria was giving way to despair.
Early the next morning, after spending a sleepless night in the City Hall-turned-temporary hostel, the troop was divided into smaller groups. Those from the same Shanghai neighborhood were kept together; each group was assigned to different Production & Construction Group divisions. Off they were loaded onto open bay trucks departing for the last leg of the journey. The truck carrying Qiu-Yi and his 27-person cohort left before dawn in the hope of reaching their destination—the Third Battalion of the Eighth Division—by nightfall.
With a full day of riding on a bumpy dirt road behind them, the truck arrived at Shihezi, a city built by the military on reclaimed desert land on the edge of Junggar Basin just north of the Tianshan mountain range. The military pioneers who came beforehand selected the location for its proximity to the Manas River and abundant daylight time.
If Urumqi were a let-down, Shihezi was a devastation. Along the dirt road were several huts built with mud bricks that served as dorms, men and women separated. Each hut had one large brick platform covered by layers of straw on the top and a woodburning chamber in the middle. It served both as a heating source during winter and as a sleeping place large enough for 10 people.
It only took one girl to start sobbing before the other joined in. The youngest, Ying, was only 17 and like most of the girls, this was the first time she was ever away from home.
No one felt wondrous, and everyone was homesick.
3. Re-education in the field
It did not take long for “re-education” to prove its genius. The young boys and girls grew up in the comfort and convenience of city life. Some of them were from previously wealthy and privileged but now condemned “black” families. The harsh reality of the Great Northwest might have given them the initial shock and heartbreaking, but they were young. And being young was precious. Being young made them adaptable and malleable. Being young also made them impressionable and conformable. They were easily impressed by the ex-military authoritative figures and conformed to the rules in no time.
Thus began their re-education and rebirth. For many, it was a transformation indeed.
“Re-education” began at dawn. When stars were the only light source in the dark sky, the city youngsters once used to sleep till lunchtime were commanded by their Company Commander, filing into a single line, and beginning their march to the farm fields miles away from the dorm. The younger ones could barely stay awake and as soon as they arrived at the field, some would just lie down in the field and fall fast asleep while furrows were assigned. At a loss, the commander ordered them to sing.
“Our Xinjiang a wonderous place … golden wheat and fragrant rice …”
Soon, the voices filled the darkness, and everyone was wide awake.
The regiment Qiu-Yi and his cohort belonged to tended both corn and cotton fields. Qiu-Yi quickly established his leadership role within his cohort again, this time not for his age, but for demonstrating his capability in physical labor—something he didn’t know he had in him. He figured out a system for harvesting two corn furrows at the same time: carrying the bush on his back instead of at the waist, walking in between the furrows, and each of his hands managing a furrow. He soon mastered the skill of plucking the corn ears with one hand and in one swoosh throwing them behind his head into the bush. When he reached the end of his furrows, he turned around to look for the one who was the furthest behind, and helped from the far end. Ying, in tears and despondency, was often the one to receive Qiu-Yi’s help.
It would be after nightfall when the young students-turned-farmhands returned to their dorms. Congee with cornmeal, steamed wheat buns, and stewed cabbage were all there was, waiting for the hungry troop at the canteen. With their young bodies still growing and stomachs longing for home cooking, they pined for more.
One night, under the cover of the dark sky, Qiu-Yi led a few boys into the canteen chicken coop. They snatched one of the chickens meant for laying eggs—the only animal protein rationed for people who fell sick—and “borrowed” a big pot before making their hasty retreat to the dorm. A fire pit was made outside the brick dorm and a pot of chicken soup started stewing. Whoever got wind of it showed up with ceramic mugs in hand, and a small share of chicken soup was received with ecstasy.
For Qiu-Yi, that soup was consumed with a twinge of scruples mixed in.
That guilty feeling did not last long. The “chicken theft” was discovered by the Company Commander the next day. “If you think you are that smart, then make the meals more appealing to your city kids so that no one will resort to stealing again!” He ordered Qiu-Yi to work in the Canteen.
This was the beginning of an unexpected career in the kitchen for Qiu-Yi, a role that showcased his leadership and led to a surprising success.
Read Part Two here.
According to data from an Iowa State University study https://www.card.iastate.edu/ag_policy_review/article/?a=40
Extra: A modern-day performance of the once popular “Our Xinjiang A Wonderous Place”
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This was an engrossing story - I loved the details about Qiu-Yi's new life in the north west.
I bookmarked this to find a quiet time to read. These are like windows to a life my ancestors had left behind.