We continued walking for another 3.5 hours, through corn fields, tea and rubber tree plantations, up and down steep hills, under the blazing sun. We finally reached a village called ManXiu, populated by about 500 Jinuo people. The village was in a valley with a river leisurely running through it. About a hundred wooden huts sat on stilts on the dusty earth. The odd scooter here and there. We were told we would be spending the night there.
We were led up the stairs of one of the wooden houses and on to an open balcony area. The balcony contained an enclosed shower, which had a massive dog shit in the middle of the floor. Our hosts asked us, via Mr Rush’s translation, if we would like to take a shower. We kindly declined.
We were not introduced to the family properly and so felt a little uneasy about encroaching on them. The home consisted of one big main room with a fire for cooking. Two smaller rooms for sleeping were just off the main room. The older parents lived in one room and the daughter, her husband and their little girl in the other. In the last few years the village had got electricity, so they had electric lights and a fridge!
While we waited for dinner to be served, I had quite a heated conversation with Mr Rush about Communism in China and the situation in Tibet. Imbecilic Mr Rush was convinced that Tibetans are happier since China invaded their country. I tried to reason with him and draw parallel with China’s Japanese invasions.
I described the massive armed police presence that lines every significant building in Lhasa. The fact that Tibetans are spied upon constantly, to the point where they cannot have a private conversation. The fact that Tibetans and their traditions are now at the point of extinction. He tried to get out of it by bringing up Taiwan. Chinese really are hypocrites. They are taught never to doubt their country and leaders. The fools.
Poor Lizzie had to calm me down in case anyone was listening. Even the guide himself could be arrested if anyone had overheard him having that conversation with me. Paranoia crept in and I worried all night that Mr Rush might secretly be a government spy and I would either be evicted from the country or thrown in jai – and who would know! After the debate, we had dinner. We were served the same kind of fare as we had earlier, but with an additional dish of scrabbled eggs with grass, which was actually very nice!
We ate at a small table in the main room with the guide and the young man of the house. The other family members did not join us. We communicated with the host through the guide, although Mr Rush, as usual turned the conversation to prostitutes. After dinner we discovered the family had no toilet and we were told to go by the roadside/river. On returning to the hut, we were confronted with an alarming sight.
Mr Rush was standing naked but for a pair of bright red Y-Fronts, in the middle of the main room. Everybody else had gone to bed, so were left alone with a 40-year-old mostly naked man, who did not really like us and was obsessed with prostitutes. This trek was just getting better and better.
We were rooted to the spot. Red Pants turned chatted away to us like nothing strange was happening.
We had a terrible night sleep. We slept on the floor on a thin pure polyester blanket, which was so hot it was like sleeping on a radiator. Of course, being in the middle of the jungle, there was no fan. Fridge but no fan. We had to sleep in our clothes because Red Pants was sleeping right next to us!
We whispered to each other in the darkness. We’d had enough of trekking. It was not for us. What the hell were we thinking, signing up for this? It was meant to be an easy trek! We had no idea where we were or how to get back to the city, but we knew we were not going to be walking it! We’d done about 12 miles already and almost all of it on our own.
We thought we might tell Red Pants one of us was ill or just be honest and say we’d had enough. Either way, it was coming to an end tomorrow morning.
At about 7am we awoke to a sharp bark from Red Pants. “Get Up Now.” Our hosts had already cooked us quite a generous breakfast and we felt bad when we hardly touched anything. It was much too early for food.
After a couple of memorable morning encounters – that will never be spoken of again – we left for our final day of trekking. Red Pants told us “today will be even easier”. Yes Red Pants, but not for the reason you think!
Red Pants, as usual, marched out of sight leaving us trailing behind. We wound up and down a steep, sandy, dirt track, with no shade, directly in the baking sun. Torture. We caught up with Red Pants and had it out with him. We told him that when we got to the next village, we wanted to catch the bus back to Jinghong.
Red Pants, dead-pan, replied that the next village was 4 hours away – about 12 miles in distance. I nearly died inside. This was out of the question, we couldn’t face walking in the direct sunshine up and down hiles for 12 minutes, let alone 12 miles. So, we compromised on hitch hiking. Red Pants came through for us and after much thumbing, we hitched a ride on the back of a tractor.
During our hitch-hike, Lizzie and I played ‘I’m a Celebrity Get me out of Here’. We had to choose between performing vile tasks or spending another day trekking with Red Pants.
The tractor took us as far as it could go and we hitched the rest of the way in a minivan. Cop out.
In the town, Red Pants showed us around the local Buddhist temple, where we found a little blind chick stumbling around the grounds and a very aggressive dog chained up in the corner. We sat down and talked; about life in England. Religion. Economics and of course, Red Pants’ favourite topic, prostitution.
As part of the £50 each that we had paid him, Red Pants had scheduled us to eat in Ganlanba. We couldn’t face spending any more time with him, so we asked if we could catch the bus straight back to Jinghong. Red Pants obliged – as desperate to get rid of us, as we were of him.
The things you see in China are often very difficult to cope with. I have read extensively about China and although it is different to how I imagined, the history is exactly as described. I think the result of China’s history is, if anything, more exaggerated and dramatic than what is written. The massive police and government control; what people read, hear, learn, are tightly controlled.
People are monitored: where they go, where they live, who they see, where they travel – if they are lucky enough to do so. The hardship, the corruptness, the meager wages for long hours, is deplorable and utterly depressing.
The country is slowly waking up and realising that it is their own government that is oppressing them. But they are docile and would never question their government’s motives. They are brainwashed from birth with the threat of exile or death if they question anything.
People are confirming what I have read to be correct and I see it with my own eyes. I don’t consider China The Sleeping Dragon after visiting here. I cannot imagine the people ever causing so much as a stir, let alone an uprising. They are entirely subjugated and I feel sorry for them. I am lucky to be who I am and be born in England.
“To be born English is to win first prize in the lottery of life” Cecil Rhodes
danilovescats - travels 