I wrote this in Xiamen on June 25th, but I'm only posting it now because blogspot is blocked from China.The agenda for the day was to take a six-hour trip into rural China to see a small factory. Our guide was Kurt, a long time aid worker who now works with businesses to provide sustainable help to the poor. This factory is a model example of how to use business to benefit a community. We were excited to see it first hand.
We were in a two-car caravan consisting of Kurt's van and his assistant Peter driving a small SUV. The Chinese countryside was gorgeous despite the overcast sky and a steady drizzle. A low fog drifted over lush green hillsides with small villages nestled between them. The highway was new and ambitious. A third of its length is either tunnel or bridge. The tunnel approaches would be richly landscaped with small trees, carefully trimmed bushes and flowers in many colors. At one point we emerged from a tunnel to find ourselves far above the ground. The highway was split and the other bridge seemed to be floating as it slipped in and out of the fog.
We stopped at a small restaurant half way through the trip. The rain poured down while we filled ourselves with yet more rice and tofu. Signs on the wall advertised the many attractions of the region including the dish "Delicious Dog Meat".
The latter part of the journey took us off the main highway and onto a more modest country road. It seemed new--no potholes and lined with young trees. Kurt told us stories about driving in China. As with most things the road is the People's road. He said the guiding rules are "lend and share". It's not your lane, it's the People's lane, and vehicles will slip freely in and out of it. Like a good tour guide Kurt pointed out each spot where he'd seen cars tumble down to the rain-swelled rivers below.
Our progress slowed down as we passed through villages. At one point a busy farmer's market pressed against the road. Twice we weaved through colorful crowds of umbrella-carrying children walking home for lunch. Houses lined the streets in town. Often these were without doors and simply had a wall open to the street. Many were two stories. Each one had three red banners with yellow characters framing the entryway. These contained proverbs blessing the house. The two on either side were long, but the top one would always be short with four characters. These are the most ancient and revered proverbs. When there weren't houses there were rice patties--short,green, and wet. The hills were also lined with these rising in tiered levels. Farmers walked among them wearing the traditional wide, pointed hats.
The road wandered into a steeper area where it was cut into the mountainside. The bare earth rose above on our left side, red with clay. On our right, many stories below, was a river. It was brown with run off and churning violently.
We went down through another village, as we were ascending out of it Kurt brought the van to a stop. Two trucks were stopped in front of us, and we could see other cars ahead. He said that there had been a landslide and the road might be blocked. We piled out into the rain to snap pictures and stretch our legs while he considered the situation.
The mud had slid two-thirds of the way out into the road, and a truck had tried to get through anyway. Its rear wheel was off the road and deep in the mud. Half it's cargo was strewn out behind it. The high edge and the mud made getting it out a huge operation. A front loader had driven up to help out, but people were standing around, arguing, and looking perplexed.
Ena and I walked up to the landslide to satisfy our curiosity and get some good photographs. We worked our way through the mud to get in-between the bulldozer and the truck and have a closer look. The second slide gave us no time to react. We leaped to opposite sides of the bulldozer as dirt piled into the space between the vehicles.
Fortunately, we only received a light dusting around our feet. I wanted to get pictures of the second slide, but my hands were shaking severely from the adrenaline. Kurt decided there was no hope of getting through to the factory anytime soon, and that the situation was getting too dangerous as it was. Walking back to the van Ena and I lamented that we didn't capture the moment on video. We would get our opportunity.
We climbed back into our vehicles and headed back through town. We left the way we came and drove back up the steep, riverside road. The hillside in front of us collapsed. The road was blocked with mud. Kurt put the van in reverse as a smaller slide added to the mess. He was only able to back up a short distance, because the SUV behind us was partially blocked by another small slide consisting mostly of rocks. Small clods of dirt tumbled down continuously. It was few long minutes while Peter worked the SUV into a position where it could safely back up, and then we were through.
Hours into rural China, far from any major city, we were trapped. The guys were in hurry to get out and get their hands dirty. Now we were having an adventure. Unfortunately, we didn't have any way to move the mud.
Within a short time cars, trucks, and motorcycles piled up on either side of the mud and villagers walked up to examine the situation. Kurt took the van back down into the village to buy shovels. While he was gone farm women came up with tools better suited for breaking ground than clearing a road, but that was what they had. They set to work. We offered help, but they insistently refused. More tools arrived (including the essential shovels) and members of our group were able to join in.
The women worked better and longer than anyone on our team. While we stopped to catch our breath they just kept on swinging. There was an amazing spirit of camaraderie. One Chinese woman, the first to arrive at the scene and the hardest working, began to gesture with the "thumbs up" sign as the situation improved. It was a surprisingly short time before enough of a lane was cleared for vehicles to get through.
A village man who stood by watching expressed his amazement to Ena that these foreigners would throw themselves into this work. She was able to explain to him why we would be so willing to serve. After we were done he invited us down to his house to wash off. There were chickens at the front of the lane and two families of ducks in his yard. We walked barefoot along a path covered in puddles and feathers. We rinsed off our shoes and clothes in a muddy little canal coming off a stream behind his house. It was all completely unsanitary. He brought us inside where he had an open-air water trap that at least looked cleaner. He insisted on rinsing off our arms and washing our feet. He was very honored to have us there (it's unlikely that he ever had contact with a foreigner before, much less in his house), but the work was something we were glad to do anyway. It made for a deeply humbling experience. His wife offered us lukewarm tea, which we each had to creatively dump to avoid offending them and avoid getting sick.
We got back into the van, drenched and muddy, and began our long, uncomfortable journey back Xiamen. As we passed the landslide Kurt yelled out that it was coming down again. After a startled moment we laughed at his unforgiving sense of humor.
