TAKLIMAKAN=塔克拉玛干日记=TAKLIMAKAN

Friends,
 
I've already written to some in a rushed email.  The short version is that John, Shirley and I survived the earthquake intact.  Here is the longer version to provide some context.
 
John and I flew from LiJiang to Chengdu on Thursday, May 8th and took a car to DuJiangyan where Shirley is living with her family, mom, dad, grandma and two dogs.  Shirley is a grad student and friend that Jinny and I know from Tarim University in Xinjiang where we taught last year. She is awaiting some paperwork for approval to go
 
We spent Thursday and Friday nights in a hotel across from their home. Friday we explored DuJiangyan, a city north of Chengdu known for its 2,300 year-old irrigation system that splits the might Min He (river) into two channels and then into four that rush thorough the city and then get further subdivided to provide irrigation for the whole Chengdu plain.  It is a pretty city with rushing water everywhere.
 
Saturday we set our in Shirley's car for our northern adventure.  Shiley's car as a Chinese-made Chery model QQ with an 800 cc engine and size to match, bright red and decorated in a Winnie-the-Pooh theme.  Just enough power to make it up some of the winding mountain roads that lay ahead of us.  We drove north for about 90 minutes to the turnoff to the WoLong Panda Preserve and another hour along a bad road in a beautiful valley, along a cascading steam.  Road repairs were needed and ongoing and we waited on the way back for 90 minutes while six dump trucks full of rocks were dumped into the narrow road ahead of us and then a grader and steam roller smoothed them out. 
We saw most of the sixty-something pandas that they had there, in various stages of cuteness.
 
Frow there we drove north and spent Saturday night in the small city of Wenschuan, which has two colleges that I looked at for possible teaching opportunities for September.  Wenschuan was later the epicenter if the quake.
 
Sunday morning we drove north and turned west to follow another river to a Qiang village. The Qiang are one of China's 55 minorities.  
 
http://english.people.com.cn/data/minorities/Qiang.html
 
We were met at the entrance to the village by a handsome 45-year-old Qiang woman in traditional clothing. She squeezed into our car and directed us up the hill to a parking lot and then took us up to her house where we were to spend the night. Shirley did the negotiating and we got room, dinner and breakfast for the three of us for about $22.  The village was built in stair-steps on a steep hillside, with most buildings being two or three stories made of well-plumbed stone construction. No roads, but stone walksways.  We asked about hiking and she told us we could follow dirt road up the valley as far as we pleased. There were little settlements high up in the valley.  Shirley asked if there were any restaurants up there.  She laughed and told us we could just knock on any door and whoever answered would feed us.
 
We hiked a long way up the valley following the stream, and when it became a waterfall the road did a few switchbacks.  There were goats along the way but few people.  It was Sunday and we met a few school children headed down to return to school, probably in Wenschuan, where they boarded for the week.  When we reached a settlement in early afternoon we knocked on a door. The man invited us in.  Two-storey house with a wall enclosing a small courtyard. Grandpa, 65, grandma, 58, girl, prehaps six and her brother, perhaps 4. The girl was squatting naked in a plastic basin in the yard and grandma was washing her hair.  Grandpa was a dignified fellow with the hands of a man who had spent his life moving stones around. When the bath was done they fed us: boiled potatoes, bacon and sausages, tea.  The missing generation, mom and dad, were "up by the glacier" harvesting some kind of mushroom that is very valuable for traditional Chinese medicine that only grows this time of year.  We offered to pay, he declined, we insisted, he refused. We ended up leaving 50 yuan ($7.50) which we hope he does not take as an insult. We said our farewells and walked back down.  I have pictures but not the technology to send them from here.
 
Dinner was good in the Qiang village.  We could take hot showers if we asked far enough ahead of time for the woman to heat up water on the stove and fill the tank.  The WC had a nice view.  The next morning, Monday,  we said our farewells and drove further up the valley to the town of Gambao, a small Tibetan village of perhaps 400 or 500.  Like the Qiang, it consisted of two and three-storey stone houses clinging precariously to a hillside.
 
We parked at the base, walked through the village and found a trail leading up the left, or West side of a valley with a stream running through it.  Ahead we saw a tower which we hiked to, and then down a goat trail to the stream and across a log bridge to a little settlement built along a dirt road that ran along the east side of the valley.  The road did two swichbacks at this point to climb up the hill, and houses were built along all three sections of the road as both road and settlement climbed up the hillside.  We met a group of people at a wide spot in the road, resting and sitting on rocks.  We flirted with a baby girl and an older woman invited us to her house and took us to her cherry orchard and encouraged us to have our fill.  Good, sweet, juicy cherries.  Not on my diet but I had a few and John and Shirley indulged. 
 
We said our farewells and hiked up the road for two or three more hours and reached another settlement at a curve in the road.  We picked the house with the red door and knocked on it.  A man of about 50 lived there with his mother.  She was 85 but could have passed for 100.  She told us that we were the first foreigners that she could remember ever coming there. He showed us his house, more modern than most, poured concrete.  He pointed out the house across the way where his father had been born.  He said he wasn't much of a cook and called his daughter on his cellphone, and she came over and cooked some noodles with pork and green vegetables for us.  We didn't offer to pay but left 35 yuan on the table.  After we left he called after us that we had left some money.  He wanted to return it.
 
About two-thirds of the way back I was walking with Shirley and singing a love song, "Today". Our eyes met and suddenly we felt the earth move beneath our feet.  We were alongside a very high and steep mountain. John and Shirley began running the same way we were going but it wasn't clear to me that it was any safer there than where I was.  I stood there looking straight up at the mountain above me, big rocks jarred loose and tumbling down towards me.  I mean really, really big rocks.  They would come loose, bounce, and fly hundreds of feet towards me.  For a while I stood there moving left and right to avoid them.  Sometimes one would strike the hill above me and send a shower of smaller rocks down, and I had to run to avoid this.  I felt like I was going to die and was just playing for extra seconds.  In my maneuvering I got closer to John and Shirley who had wisely found a big overhanging rock to hide under and I joined them there.  The shaking continued for what seemed like a minute or two, and the cascade of rocks and slides continued for much longer after that.
 
We stayed under the rock long enough to catch our breath and chat about what had just happened.  For us it was all about us.  As far as we knew we were the only people in the world who had witnessed this strange phenomenon.  As we looked around we could see dust clouds rising from other parts of the valley, above, below and across from us.  We wondered but our thoughts were not focused on anything but what to do next.
 
We took off quickly for the settlement where the woman with the cherries was.  Just as we reached it there were other tremors sending more rocks down and we scrambled down and took shelter and assembled in the wide spot in the road with the locals.  Some houses had been smashed and one car was flattened but nobody seemed to be hurt.  Tremors were nearly constant.  A landslide that nearly missed the settlement continued to send rocks down for hours.  We all seemed resolved to sit there in the open, the safest place around, and plans were made to put up a tent for everyone to spend the night in.
 
We were wearing shorts and t-shirts and sandals.  As it turned cooler one man dared to go into his house and brought us three full-length Tibetan robes to keep warm in. We stayed there huddled together for a couple of hours when some people from Gambao came up the road and asked us all to go there.  We felt safe where we were and the road we would have to traverse was right under the mountain and an active landslide.  We negotiated for a while and finally made a run for it.  The road was strewn with boulders but we made it through without incident, running all the way.
 
We assembled at the parking lot at the base of the town.  We could see the town on the hillside with many houses caved in.  I heard no reports of fatalities in the town, but a story that a man had died the previous day and at his funeral up on the hillside several people had died.  The tower that we had hiked to was not there any longer. 
 
The people had quickly harvested a cabbage patch in the most open area and were turning the bare ground into a tent city.  A man on crutches emerged as a leader and enlisted all able-bodied men from 18 to 40 to militia duty, and set them to hauling tent material and others to prepare meals.
 
People whose houses had just been destroyed were looking after us to make sure we were warm enough and later brought us food. 
 
As it was getting dark, about 7 pm, a single-file parade of elementary school children came into town from the nearby school.  Normally Tibetan, or all Chinese, children smile, but these children had a blank, grim look on their faces from having spent the last four-plus hours gathered on the downward side of their school building as tremors rained rocks into the valley around them.  The feeling of relief as the parents reunited with their children was palpable and an emotionally overwhelming moment for me. 
 
People built a bonfire and sat around it late into the night. Tremors continued.  It rained lightly and the tents in the cabbage patch must not have been pleasant.  The people offered us the best place in their humble shelter but John, Shirley and I sat dry and comfortable enough in Shirley's little car and slept fitfully all night.
 
The spirit in Gambo was overwhelming. People were cooperative and supportive of one another.  There was sharing rather than hoarding.
 
In Gambo we felt safe, comfortable and connected to the community.  In the morning John had about 50 school children gathered tightly around him while he gave an impromptu English lesson.  I led them in a chorus of the only two songs I could think of that they would know, the ABC song and Happy Birthday.  We spent part of the morning in the tents with the students communicating as best we could.
 
Authorities in the local capital, LiXian, got word somehow that there were foreigners in Gambao and sent word that we were to be taken there.  The local officials wanted to take us there in a police car and we questioned why we would be better off there sleeping in tents than we were in Gambao where we had our car.  They reached a compromise and John, Shirley and I rode in a police car to LiXian while another policeman drove Shirley's car.  The road was strewn with boulders, a smashed dump truck, fallen utility poles and wires, a smashed bus and portions covered with landslides. There was a large brick house with a three-foot hole in the wall above the front door and a corresponding three-foot stone lying in front of it, like a Wylie Coyote cartoon. The police drove through this mess as fast as the cars could possibly go and the drive as almost as terrifying as the previous day's earthquake.
 
LiXian was a few miles west and further from the quake area.  We saw no collapsed buildings but many with cracks. People were living in their cars, as we did, or camped. Some were in tents. There was no electricity or cellphone coverage.  A few shops opened but mostly the town was closed.  Hundreds of soldiers arrived in town having completed a forced march of 60 kilometers to get there, but there was little for them to do in LiXian.  They swept the streets and some were sent out for road repairs.
 
In LiXian the authorities in the next larger city, the regional capital of MareKang, got word that there were foreigners there and wanted us to come to MareKang where they could have us under their wing.  There were three car fulls of people in LiXian who all wanted to get back to Chengdu and we waited for the roads to clear to MareKang and formed a four-car caravan.  Shirley's car developed engine problems and overheated frequently.  Up one long hill one of the other cars pulled hers with a very dangerous rope maneuver.  We hit a police checkpoint and when they recognized the foreigners we got a police escort to Marekang, had our cameras confiscated briefly while they made sure we had not taken any illegal pictures of earthquake damage, deleted some, and sent us to a hotel where we were told we could only leave to go to supper.
 
We got more news of the quake.  It was much larger than we had imagined.  It destroyed the town of Wenschuan where we had spent Saturday night, but the greatest number of deaths were reported in DuJiangyan, Shirley's home town.  Shirley was able to reach her family by cellphone and they were all alive and well, but their home was not safe to live in.  They had spent one night sleeping outside their house and then had gone to Ya'an to stay in a hotel.  Death counts were reported at almost 15,000, total.  A school dormitory had collapsed with students taking afternoon naps.
 
A wonderful hotel manager let us use her hotel office computer for internet purposes and for the first time I was able to send a brief message to my family letting them know I was alive.  Fortunately other sources had already reached them with the news.  
 
We left Shirley's car in Marekang and piled into the three other cars.  All day Thursday we drove, not in the earthquake zone, far west towards Kangding. Rough road, breakneck drivers.  About two hours north of Kangding we were met by Shirley's boyfriend, Fen, and her mother, for a tearful reunion.  Fen is a man's man and drives a man's car, a big Toyota four-wheel-drive SUV that smoothed out the rough road.  In Kangding we headed east and met Shirley's father in Ya'an.  Dinner for the whole caravan, thanks for their support.  Three cars full of people had shepherded us for two days, people we had never met before.  How nice can people be?
 
Now we are in Chengdu. 
 
I know that I am very lucky.  I know that I am lucky to be alive.
 
The Chinese would tell you that I am lucky because I was born in the "Year of the Golden Pig".  But I think that I am lucky because I have friends who look after me, and friends of friends, and sometimes even strangers.
 
Thank you, friends.
 
Permission to share this email is granted for any purpose.
 
Jim Batterson

被DDD点名了，为了不脱离本日记风格，该点名帖回复到QQ空间 http://user.qzone.qq.com/14710187

潦以反映暑假期间的生活点滴~

 

补 2007－6－27

逃跑第一天，居然遇到空中交通管制～  没听过吧？稀罕吧？——在阿克苏滞留7小时～总算幸运，还能在零点以前进入四川的“领空”……
真不知道新疆倒底是个怎样的地方～Oh My God!～
无论如何，新疆人民还是不错的——早上离开宿舍的时候，见同寝的小妞们都还梦着周公，就没忍心叫醒她们～走到路上，小静静居然打个电话来哭鼻子了～怪我为什么不叫她起床送我……煞是可爱～；送我去机场的司机大哥，见到航班取消，就一直在机场等我，直到确定了下午的改签航班才离开；阿克苏温宿小机场的主任哥哥，似乎也把我当成了熟人，当我怯生生的把超重四公斤的行李放上磅秤的时候，他居然没问行李，只是问我是不是放假了～一副关切的样子……；机上的邻座见我大包小包的一堆堆，竟然在“满员”的飞机上找到了个空座，无声无息的把位子让给我堆行李～
综上所述，新疆人民依旧是可爱善良的，但新疆的官僚们实在不知道是干什么吃的？？
又仔细想想，我这话也挺矛盾的～难道，新疆的官僚就不是新疆的人民了么？但为什么当他们只是人民的时候都很可爱，别上了官僚的胸牌就那样气势汹汹，自以为是？？ 

将归去！

 

前几天定了机票

今天交了假条——6月27日至7月10日

不过，学校好像7月14日放暑假～

 

回去，原本有好多打算和计划，很急切的企盼着这一天的来临！

原本，因该有一份轻松和喜悦的心情伴随着离去的日子的到来

……

甚至难以用心碎来形容现在的心情～

一种令人窒息的委屈和无处宣泄的痛楚……

 

Part of TAKLIMAKAN

Part of the Diary

A story out of the stories

A story lined-up the stories

 

昨天一大早，阿拉尔居然下了场雨来欢送BATTERSON老爹和BATTERSON老太～
这可绝对称得上是一个极大的殊荣！！

BATERSON老爹把所有的行李和礼物打包托运，随身只带了一大包SNACKS（零嘴儿），有peanuts from American, ice from the desert and 一些乱七八糟的香肠之类的东西～

据说，最后这一天的早上，JINNY还用好不容易搜集到的一罐牛奶自制了一些奶油，让辛勤工作一年的BATTERSON老爹享用了一顿非常WESTERN的早餐……

我大概九点五十到了他们住处，送别的人已经挤满了屋子，BATTERSON老爹虽然不善中文，却也能和大多数中国老百姓交流得甚好！失踪近半年的SPRING FLOWER居然也奇迹般的出现在沙发上！——老爹的魅力果然很大！！我本想送他们到库尔勒，也顺便玩玩～可是洪宁不准，说是不放心我一个人回来～～ SO，此愿未遂！

把老爹送到阿克苏，JINNY非要去传说中阿克苏最大超市探探看有没有CHEESE～我想，如果真给她找到了，倒反而是个SHAME。我们三点左右来到火车站，跟老爹在“阿克苏”几个大字前面摆了好几个POSE留作纪念～然后把他们送进了候车厅，热情拥抱，互道珍重，收队回家～

在火车站，我对老爹说:"Maybe, it's Jesus the guy send me here for you. U C, I arrived here five days before U and leave here just 7 days after you." "我也这么想，可这关JESUS那小子什么事？"

今天遇见了一个四川老乡！

今天终于遇见了一个四川老乡！

今天终于在学校里遇见了一个四川老乡！

今天终于在学校的同学里遇见了一个四川老乡！

 

一个女孩，黑黑瘦瘦的，来自安岳，

据说，她是塔大招来的第一批四川学生之一，九分之一，而且是唯一的一个女生～

很优秀！至少我是这么认为的～

只是，多多少少被阿拉尔磨去了一些砺气和志气，多多少少的染上了一些颓丧的情绪。

 

听了她讲自己的经历，想写下来跟大家分享，只是希望她不会介意……

这是个自信、独立、大方而且聪明的女孩

很不幸的是，他老爸在蒲阳（某个）钢铁厂受了工伤，导致双目失明。于是妈妈带着爸爸和妹妹去了浙江，妹妹打工挣钱，妈妈一边照顾爸爸，一边做清洁工补贴家用。家里还有个小弟弟，在云南上大一。

她，现在大三，是塔里木大学生物技术专业的第一届学生。生物技术专业在这个学校的地位，有点类似于当初俺们那生物技术基地班在川大的地位——都是些凤毛麟角吧～

可这女孩是五百多分从四川奔来的耶！而这学校在新疆招的，无非也就是些三百分左右的考生……

我问她有没有打算考研？

她说，是在准备，可是……四级还没有通过～

又略带羞涩的补充到：“在新疆呆久了，人也变懒了……”

当时我很讶异听到她这样讲！

原以为……是我自己的情绪导致我产生的这样一些想法；

原以为，这样的想法，都只是我为自己开脱的借口而已～

除此以外，我对新疆，对塔里木大学，对阿拉尔，对我的导师，我的新疆朋友们 评价还是蛮高的！！

 

下午，我跟HN讲了这个女孩，我说，我想给她一些帮助和建议，并约了她出来吃晚饭。

可是，到了吃饭的时候，我还是什么都没有讲……

心里，有种说不出的感觉……诧异和压抑交织的奇怪感觉……

可爱的方旭居然也摸到俺这旮旯来了！

这个几乎在我的记忆里睡死过去的家伙……居然在这里蹦了出来！——一个巨大的鼓励！

所以，我终于决定：认认真真的来除除草！

以飨读者！！

 

PS：以前，我总有错觉以为这空间还是一个比较私密的地方，总觉的，来浏览浏览我的小心情、小秘密的，也无非就是小孙啊，小曾啊，丹丹啊，小治啊，Sxin啊这几个家伙。方旭这厮算是提醒了我——这可是个公共场所！我得对相当多的人负责任～～～～

压力很大呀～～～～～～～～～～

补登 5月26日

 

在阿拉尔遇上四川人的几率和遇上蚂蚁的几率一样高！

但，碰上一些衣着体面的川人却仍是难得～

并不是以貌取人，或说人有高低贵贱之分，

而是，这么一些人，才能让我有机会去猜想……

     他（她）是否会来自某个我可能熟悉的角落？

采棉人和打工仔的生活，毕竟，和我离得太远……难以捉摸。

 

阿拉尔的发展也很快！

去年复试时，整个小镇上还只有摩托三轮车穿梭，充当着城市交通的主力；

开学时，便有了绿白相间的出租车……

五一归来，出租车里已装上了记价器——起价三块，每公里一块，超过两公里就开始一毛钱一毛钱的跳表～

所以，我从学校西门坐到九团菜市场通常是3块4毛钱……

然而，又过了一周以后，出租车上竟然响起了熟悉的“HELLO, WELCOME TO TAKE MY TAXI！”……

好个神奇的新疆！

补登5月21日

 

昨夜的一阵狂风之后，今早，竟是出奇的“清新”

迈出楼门的时候，真的嗅到了一股——可以称之为“清新”的味道～

带着些甜味，黏呼呼的，完全不同于平常的阿拉尔……

在脑子里搜索着一个合适的形容词……“潮湿”？！

不会吧……

难道是我的幻觉～

 

摇晃着脑袋，百思不得其解！

“……昨晚下雨了！”

“不可能吧？！”

“真的！我的自行车座垫上有雨滴印子。”

“……沙印吧？”

“也许……”

 

据说，下雨了……

真遗憾，又没有见到～

真的是沙尘暴～

据说外面的风有十二级……

上次离开了半个月，错过了本年度最壮观的红色沙尘暴

一直觉得遗憾～

今天，总算把这堂课给补上了

 

窗外，柳枝狂舞，黄沙卷地……

风，呜咽着一阵阵滚过

有些毛骨悚然～

 

同寝的人从外面回来，迎风的一面已染上了均匀的土黄色

真想，出去试试～