The Silk Road - Unveiling The Past

My journey along the ancient Silk Road brought with it, each day, a new experience. Each one richer, more diverse, more intriguing. The food, the rugged landscapes and the culture lie deeply embedded within my soul. Never to be forgotten. However, it was the incredible people I met along the way, who stole my heart. Who gave real meaning and value to the most unusual adventure.

Seated within the comfort of our bus once more, we set off along the Urumqi – Turpan Highway. We travelled past the spectacular Dabancheng Wind Farm of Xinjiang, situated eight kilometres east of Urumqi. Stretching way beyond the horizon. The giant turbines standing ghost-like in ceremonious style. The heat haze of the terrain created a mystical aura which weaved its path through Man’s ingenious invention. Dabancheng is home to some of the most powerful winds ever known to Man. Therefore, the area was perfect in which to develop one of Asia’s biggest wind farms. Almost two hundred turbines stand strong harnessing the forceful winds. The farm plays a leading role in the development of renewable energy in China. Another reason for Xinjiang to be of great importance to the Motherland …

Urumqi, the capital city of Xinjiang, greeted us with a sense of turmoil. Soldiers presented themselves on every street corner. The atmosphere was heavy with tension. The city was on high alert. Threats of terrorism filtered through daily life. The authorities, then weary of unrest amongst the Uyghur minority, had created an extremely unhealthy and unwelcoming environment. They continue to do so. Deadly riots have gone hand-in-hand with life in Urumqi.

In our few hours there, we nervously visited the Grand Bazaar, gazing in awe at the goods on display. We then gathered in the safety of our group, whilst taking in the sights on People’s Square - the site of departure for the sacred flame during the 2008 Summer Olympics torch relay.  It was fascinating to witness the bustle of a city so foreign to anything I had ever known. Life as it was in the distant past, had somehow been captured in the traditional manner of dress, in the donkey carts and the street foods available. However, the horrors of fast-food joints were evident everywhere. Many of the youth, clearly overweight, wandered around aimlessly, clutching boxes of a famous brand of chicken. 

It is said that Urumqi is the most remote city from any sea in the world. One look at a map and it’s easy to accept that statement. The surrounding terrain could not be more rugged. More inhospitable. Within this very much landlocked city, live three major ethnic groups. The Han Chinese, The Hui (Han people who are Muslim), and the Uyghurs (a Turkic ethnic group). There are of course many other minor ethnic groups such as the Kazakhs, Kyrgyz, and other Turkic people. Their origins lie in Central, East, North and West Asia as well as parts of Europe and North Africa. A leading cultural and commercial centre defines the core of Urumqi. It continues to develop as a huge modern city. 

Back in the days when folks travelled The Silk Road on one of those objectionable  beasts, a camel, it would have taken almost a year to travel from Beijing to Kashgar. I don’t for one minute deny the fact that the journey through desert sands and mountain ranges would have held the traveller captive - in an atmosphere of romance and intrigue. However, the reality of such journeys would have told a very different version of the epic crossings. After exploring as much as we could in the hasty visit to Urumqi, we sensibly flew to Kashgar.

Flowing water doesn’t become stagnant 

And a door pivot doesn’t get worm-eaten

                                                                                         – Chinese proverb

One of our travel companions told Yvonne of the above proverb on the morning of her 80th birthday. Quite befitting of Mom’s character I thought. So much so, that the proverb found its place of honour in the book she wrote about her remarkable life as a pilot. A few days earlier, Mom had realised her dream of riding a camel in the Gobi desert. Now, on her actual birthday, we found ourselves in Kashgar – surely the most unique, ancient city in the world. 

Never, in our wildest dreams, could we have imagined celebrating Yvonne’s milestone birthday at the famous Kashgar Sunday Animal Market. Surrounded by animals of every species, shape and size. Surrounded by history. Infused with tradition. Interacting with people of other cultures. Each one incredibly diverse and filled with its own richness. Each one generously contributing to the exhilarating environment.

As the name implies, this age-old market is all about the buying and selling of animals. Customs and rituals of the past are buried deep within the fibres of the wooden carts and the dark muddy earth. It was at this market where I found myself, not only being transported back in time to centuries past, in terms of the atmosphere and the manner in which things were done. The animal market also presented to us,  the most remarkable kaleidoscope of people.  

I have tried, in my writing, to describe the faces we saw that day. To enable you, the reader, to share in my experience. Words are powerful. However, the image captures what the words often fail to portray. The one feature each magnificent face had in common, was the ability to showcase life through a series of deeply etched lines. Those unique faces embody each specific experience, whether it was painful or beautiful, through their journeys of time.

Faces displaying emotions. Tragedies. Sadness. Humour. Love. We saw it all that glorious day at the animal market. For to witness those incredible human faces, in their natural glory, was a unique experience in itself. There were no photo shoots. No hugging strangers for the sake of a digital memory. No smiley pretends. Those faces were authentic. And reflective. I saw them and appreciated each one. Not in a book from biblical times. But in real life. I value that generous gift. For when each face smiled at me, the sensation of being one was ever-present.

The Kashgar Sunday Animal Market and the Kashgar Bazaar shared a location in early times, but due to the stench caused by the animals, the livestock were moved further out of the city. Despite its name, the market is open seven days a week and sells any variety of goods. It has been said that if you stretch your imagination, you will find it at the animal market. Steeped in a history dating back over 2000 years, the market has its origins in an era when camels leisurely created tracks across hot desert sands, along the ancient Silk Road. 

That Sunday spent at the most intriguing market was bizarre to say the least. Yvonne often found herself ankle-deep in all sorts of slimy substances. Probably the same substances responsible for the market being moved further afield from the city. Balancing on the odd dry patch of ground became an art form.  Uyghurs were buying and selling sheep, goats, snakes, donkeys, horses and camels. More than once we had to suddenly back away from horses, being ‘test-driven’ wildly amongst the crowds. Terrified, we would stand firmly planted in one spot whilst catching our breath. Then suddenly, with the force and speed of lightning, camels being driven into the market area, forced us to take cover once more. So as not to be crushed. 

The animal market is a massive gathering of thousands of farmers and merchants. It is believed that every Sunday, almost 100 000 people attend the event. Stock is paraded. Bartering takes place.  High levels of arguing too. Tempers are kept in check somehow. Rituals of centuries past, are respected and put into practice. We were shocked at first to note many men spitting on their one hand. Any deal was sealed when the seller’s agent spat on his hand, offering it to the purchaser, who happily accepted it.  Thereafter, riding off with his purchase of the day. 

Camels seemed to be the key investment. Always reaching the highest prices. They would strut around, with an air of superiority. Always looking down upon fellow creatures with the look of disdain. Their buyers too had attitudes and were extremely aggressive. Hesitating to part with their precious hard-earned cash in order to escort one of the outstanding creatures of the desert, home. The buyers of donkeys kept us captivated as they would stick their fingers right inside the creature’s mouth. Gingerly they would then count the donkey’s teeth. A fascinating sight indeed. This act of bravery is carried out to ascertain the value of the donkey!

The transporting of animals kept us highly amused. There were horse-drawn carts straight out of the biblical days. Homemade contraptions with three wheels and what resembled a cage of sorts, navigated past us. People made their way carrying goats and other creatures. Other ran alongside or ahead of their livestock. It was mayhem. The atmosphere was electric. Agitated animal sounds and deafening noises from vehicles blasted through the air. Human voices bellowed. Weaving their way through the thickened atmosphere as they partook in the live trading of the day. Here and there, high-pitched shrieks of both birds and women joined the symphony of sounds.

I was fascinated by the various clothing worn that day. Men wearing traditional Uyghur skullcaps, the Doppa, gathered in small groups. Their loud baritone voices  rising above the screeching of young lambs. The Doppa is a square or round skullcap originating in Central Asia. The caps are covered in the finest embroidery, using silk threads and in traditional Uyghur designs. Each one a work of art and dedication. Both men and women wear these caps daily and as a valued personal decoration on special occasions. Needless to say, Yvonne and I each have a Doppa. 

Depending on which area they come from, their age and gender, Uyghurs love to wear hats. Many of the older Uyghurs wore a tall black hat with a fringe of lambskin fur around the rim. Their long silver beards enhancing the already mystical  image they presented. To me, they resembled the elders. The wise ones. For they did not get involved with the madness of the day. Preferring to sit quietly on old benches. Observing. Simply pondering.

Interestingly the few women we came across that day, either displayed a degree of shyness and reserve or attitudes of being in control. One charming lady proceeded to give her husband a mouthful. Her shrieking voice breaking through the airwaves. Not caring about any onlookers. She was mad. And had no issues dealing with this anger in public. I secretly wondered if she was hoping to fetch a high price for her husband … replacing him with the beloved  and more valuable camel. On noticing me glancing her way, she smiled the sweetest smile. And nodded her head knowingly.

Brightly coloured headscarves are common in Xinjiang. Ladies used them to fully cover their faces or simply to tie back their hair. In Kashgar women also cover their faces with brown gauze. Married Uyghur women often wear a brown paranja veil. This item is in itself, a work of art with the intricate lacework done by hand. The clothing tends to be covered in beautiful floral patterns dating back thousands of years. Elegance is one of the most important attributes a woman can possess. No matter her status, her age and her culture. I believe elegance is then enhanced by an inner strength. A deep, quiet strength that lies within one’s character is a beauty asset of its own. I found many of the Uyghur women to have these gifts. They carried themselves in a regal manner. Often wearing bracelets, necklaces and earrings. They traditionally have long plaited hair and wear it in different styles, according to age. Amongst my favourite hats were the small, elegant hats worn by women. Each protruding pattern on the hat was created with threads of pearls. 

Kiddies wore either the traditional Doppa, headscarves or were becoming familiar with our western beanies. Like children around the world, they played in the mud, threw pebbles as far as they could and challenged one another in races. Unlike children around the world, these young ones found great excitement when chasing after camels and running from wild horses. They giggled when seeing foreigners. Smiling sweetly when returning a wave as we greeted them. There were those children who clearly hid great sadness deep within. I had to stop myself from reaching out to them. Withholding my hugs. Instead, sending them love through my eyes and a smile.

My day spent at the animal market, walking around in history, proved to be a remarkable education. I witnessed an incredibly diverse way of life as it was in the past.  Centuries ago. Thus gaining a deeper understanding of how life in those regions is conducted today. Of how people survive. Of how they communicate with one another. To actually stand in that space, with those people, was a true gift that only The Silk Road could present.

To be continued …

Apologies for the poor quality of certain photos. They were either taken from a moving bus or with a second-rate camera