The peddler and his grandchildren.Up early and to XiaoYee's for breakfast planned to help our bodies tolerate the ascent to the Miam Minority area which is half way up a nearby mountainside. We ate a napa-like cabbage steamed in a broth, steamed buns and warm soy milk with sugar. Shar Shen washed the dishes, XiaoJing, XiaoYee and XiaoYun bustled about packing foods to bring to the Miam and we descended stairs to the vehicle, a decommissioned ambulance. XiaoYun had brought along a driver from the hospital who usually escorts high level government officials who have business at the hospital. Xiao Yun laughs when I ask her if he is an EMT. The answer is "No, but he plans to start classes." The ambulance is carrying an oxygen tank and there is a gurney along the far side. In my heart of hearts I know they've used this in case of my heart giving out-they've been reminding me of the elevation in Yunnan for days. This province is measured by height, not width because there are such variations in altitude.
I choose to sit on the gurney. XiaoYun signals, "No, No" and directs me to the other side. I choose the rear seat so I can take pictures but "No, no" she signals (was it over a wheel?) So I move up to the next seat. XiaoJing sits behind me. XiaoYee and XiaoYun across from us on the gurney. SharShen sits on a fold up seat next to the sliding door which separates us from the driver. XiaoYun's tea and a plastic bag of fruit are on a small cupboard next to him. Michael sits in front with the driver.
We drive out of Kunming and start the climb. Before long we are on a "highway" narrow and untended the past twenty years.Pocked with potholes, the roads are lined with aluminum fronted places, very, very dusty. There is a terracotta industry here. Dry clay particles in the air invading your bite. In time the road becomes unpaved.
An ambulance siren announces its approach and makes its way through the traffic behind us. Our driver takes advantage as it passes and stays close behind. We laugh and applaud as we weave through traffic nearly scraping the side against oncoming trucks.
Further up the mountain we find we are following garbage trucks. The ambulance has turned from our route. The ascent is steep. My ears "pop". More vegetation is noted. I see an occasional horse. Terraces have long been used here for planting and preserving soil from erosion. We begin to see rice paddies. It will be harvested in Oct. I see a great waterwheel. Xiao Jing says people power gets it moving bringing water to the fields for irrigation. The wheel is similar to a Ferris wheel in an amusement park.
We begin to see carts pulled by donkeys, an occasional person with a rod across the shoulder holding a basket at each end. There is a group of vendors along the roadside. We stop to stretch our legs. Michael introduces me to a man he's been talking with-73 years old. Much is made (again) of our ages-they insist we have a picture taken. Then I ask that one be taken with the children who are watching curiously. They join the group-one little girl is hesitant. I take her hand. Michael snaps the picture. We continue on our way.
Now I see a water buffalo standing under a tree. Then small groups of homes perched on the mountainside. Occasional very tall thin trees. Eucalyptus, I'm told. The streamers have been cut for fragrant oils. There are pine, chestnut, walnut and patches of very old bamboo. Finally we pass the dump. It covers a huge area. Some people nearby, hoping to find useful stuff. We approach a village. Surely we have arrived? No, we continue on. Now we pass tobacco fields-broad tall leaves. Also an occasional wild dill plant and hollyhocks. All along these roads are Chinese working to break up huge rocks, carrying loads of gravel in woven baskets, leveling gravel that's been dumped into wood framed inch wide, deep narrow troughs edging the roadway. All the leafy plants along the route are covered with dust. I wonder how photosynthesis could be taking place. It's unusual to see a flower from these plants.
Higher and higher we ride lurching and braking. The fan at the back ceiling of the vehicle is rattling relentlessly. The sisters are laughing and remembering past events. Finally we turn left and enter another village, that of the Miam. We have been riding for two hours. I think, "Would I make such a trip weekly to get to church? I console myself with the knowledge that this is a Christian church "but not Catholic". I have a flashback of John Dunne's The Way of All The Earth. I have experienced Taoist and Buddhist temples, Muslim prayer and now back to Christian. I'm grateful to XiaoYee who has called the minister to check the time of the service. We park in front of the church. There is a tall wooden cross at the peak of the roof to distinguish it. XiaoJing tells me that the Communists do not bother with the practice of religion if it doesn't appear subversive or cult-like such as the Falungong.
Parishioners are arriving by foot, cart and bicycle. Little kids, barefoot and filthy accompany their moms or grand moms, wearing Sunday clothes. Xiao Jing says the women with the twisted dark material wrapped at the front of their heads are the married women. Some wear aprons with different colored cross-stitched patterns. Men wear worn ill-fitting jackets. Even a little boy wears a too large suit, its cuffs turned up. XiaoYee introduces us all around as people arrive in front of the church. Michael has a conversation with the man who turns out to be the minister. We try to quietly slip into our pew all in a row but the minister waves us further up front. XiaoJing, Michael and I comply. The others remain behind. The pews are made of narrow slats of wood and we sit carefully fearful of cracking them.
The minister opens with prayer and a message. Soon he introduces us. Readings from the Bible are given by a man to our left. Then a hymn is sung. I am struck with the sound. Everyone is loudly singing. Many verses. A long prayer is devoutly spoken by a man who stands before us, a learned prayer or a spontaneous prayer? The language barrier makes it impossible to know.
Now the choir come up front. The back row, 9 or 10 men, and then two rows of women accompanied by a man at the piano. The director stands in the aisle with his music propped on a pew back. The sound is round, full, inspiring. A little child runs up to sit at the piano with her dad who is undeterred. Another child runs up and tugs at mom's apron. She is intent on her music but not disturbed. XiaoJing plays peek-a-boo as the child darts behind the women.
During the hymns the minister approaches Michael and asks him to sing a hymn with me up front. We are to choose any we like. Michael whispers to me and I mutter, "Oh, no". Michael suggests "Amazing Grace" I object because it's not an easy hymn for me to sing, too high. We finally agree on the first verse and go over the words together, The choir goes to their seats and the minister introduces us. We go up front (me dreading it). Michael hums it to the accompanist who plays the intro. He sings loudly and I get so choked up with emotion I can barely sing. We blunder through it and take our seats. The audience cheers.
Now the minister asks Michael to "say a few words". Michael stands up front and begins. Later XiaoJing tells me he started by saying "I know about the Bible from my mom. " (He borrows the reader's worn, small Bible and carries it as he speaks. He asks if all can hear him gesturing to each age group. The children laugh. He says, "You may wonder why you persist in coming here each week and believing as you do. You may wonder Where is this God the Bible talks about? But you see Him each time one of you consoles the lonely , gives to one poorer than you are, listens to the troubled, helps with the work of the injured, or brings money or the work of your hands to this place each Sunday. That is where I see our God." I note the minister is writing something in a little book he takes from his pocket.
Now the minister says a prayer and then tells us that in honor of the visitors the choir will sing. They re-assemble up front and sing 3 songs from Miou culture, a fourth song that is unfamiliar to me but I do note an occasional alleluia in the verse. As I am mentioning the alleluia to XiaoJing they begin the Alleluia Chorus. I am bowled over with the quality and delivery of this piece. Later XiaoJing tells me that this group has won first place in a vocal music competition nationally. I am reminded of the joy I always felt when singing in choirs how my troubles fell away and I'm sure each of these people feel it too.
Now we are told that refreshments have been prepared for us and as we leave I take notice of the large bags of grain that were donated in lieu of money during the collection.
XiaoYee leads us across the way and up a steep ledge to a mud hovel. We pass chickens and baby chicks running across our path. The place is a low room with a low table and tiny foot- high stools for sitting. XiaoJing and I share a bench. There is a big shallow bowl with a warm round loaf of sticky bread and a shallow bowl of honey from hives tended by these people. We tear off pieces of the bread and dip bread into the honey-SUBLIME! Also fruit and sunflower seeds are offered. The woman who has made the bread is daughter of the Chinese medicine practitioner here. She made a cross-stitched bag for me. It's pattern has been used by the Miam for centuries.
We learn that the power used here is methane from manure delivered through a plastic tube into the stove. This is mandated by the government.
We wash our hands at the spigot outside and return to the churchyard. Wrapped candies are passed to the children by XiaoYun. Now the parishioners are bringing us gifts of fruit, mushrooms, honey. The pianist invites us to come to his place to pick more fruit... Time has run out though so we pile into the ambulance, waving good-by to all.
I took very few pictures here. It seemed too invasive.
Halfway down the mountain we encountered another traffic standstill and were told to detour. This road was much more comfortable. Fewer bone-jarring bumps but XiaoYee got carsick from the curves. Sitting on that gurney couldn't have been easy. We had to stop to let her throw up. Along the path I found a nasturtium blossom!
Returning to Kunming Michael and I were dropped off at the apartment with instructions that I was to nap. I was too emotional and overcome to sleep. Michael said as we entered, "Well, you have been to another world, my friend." "Yes, it's gonna take a little time to sort it all out." "Some things are never to be sorted out", he said.
1.Shar Shen distributing candy to the children.
2.Miam mothers enjoying the children.
3.The bag given to me by our lunch hostess.
