Getting lost in China with Angela Heping; meeting with Nu Chinese in Lao Mudeng
Angela Heping takes us on her travels through China in ChinaNU+. She travels far off the beaten path and lets us enjoy her special experiences and encounters in words and pictures.
While traveling through the Nu River Valley, I made a stop in the village of Lao Mudeng to spend the night. I visited the famous old church that still functions as before. I decided to take a tour around the village and visit the nearby ghost town of Zhi Ziluo.
I need not describe how beautiful and smooth the drive was with the crown-shaped peak high above the mountain, visible to all, floating among the white clouds with the clear blue sky as a backdrop. The local B&B I chose by luck was perfectly situated opposite the old church, with a surprising, razor-sharp reflection in the still waters of the intervening lake.
From there, Zhi Ziluo was only a ten-minute drive, uphill. I parked in a small square, perhaps it had once been a schoolyard? The surroundings almost resembled a movie set from the Cultural Revolution era, but without people. The red-painted slogans from that era still flaunted vividly on the facades of the abandoned houses. The only life in the narrow street came from the occasional local selling dried fruit in simple stalls and a few dogs that scampered around or stared at me from a staircase.
A large poster in front of an octagonal pavilion told the history of this abandoned town. It was prosperous during the “Tea and Horse Road era” and by the end of the Qing Dynasty it became an important center of the region. In 1974, after a new road was built, the government buildings suddenly moved to a place near the entrance to the valley. Since then, this old center has stood empty. There are still 80 buildings, frozen in the era of the 1950s. Another version of this history, more reminiscent of recent events close to home, involves landslides during months of heavy rains. Because lives were at stake, people moved away at once to avoid further loss. True or not, it doesn’t matter. The fact is that this “ghost town” has become a rare place for anyone curious about a peek into the past.
On the way back, I met a man dressed in local folklore. I inquired about the best local eatery in Lao Mudeng. He was smart enough not to advertise his own restaurant and instead invited me to visit the only old hut of the Nu people in the village, which was in his house. I was warmly greeted by his wife and son, immediately felt at home, drank tea and helped his wife pick fresh vegetables in the garden.
The boy was so excited that he offered to perform the tribe’s traditional song and dance for me. But first he wanted to show me the hut that used to serve as a “museum” of the Nu people’s way of life. This freestanding hut stood on stilts, with the upper floor used as living quarters. Inside it was dark, various agricultural tools hung on the wall. He opened a heavy wooden box and took out a huge skull of an animal, perhaps a trophy from hunting. After letting me admire the skull for a while, he put it back in the crate. Then he put on his colorful vest and put on his decorated hat: the show could begin!
While I enjoyed the singing and dancing, the man and his wife were busy cooking. I watched the last light of the day disappear behind the hills and the path on the opposite mountain become more and more recognizable. The man explained to me that people from the opposite village used to walk 4.5 hours downhill to reach the market in the valley and then 4.5 hours back again. The road built by the government made life easier. He also took advantage of tourism and got a loan from the bank to buy a van to pick up guests and drive around the beautiful area.
After the simple but delicious dinner, I sat with the family and an old uncle in the hut, where a boiling cauldron hung over the wood fire, surrounded by dried corn cobs and meat. Maybe it was because of the smoke from the campfire or the uncle’s low voice, but it made me dreamy. He took me back to a time when there were no paved roads and people depended entirely on horses and donkeys for transportation. I followed his childhood memories; his story began with crossing snow-capped mountains only to use buses and trains to finally arrive in Beijing. A young man realized his dream of leaving his village in the mountains to see cities and travel. Here he sits now, unmarried and childless, but respected and cared for by his cousin’s family.
The night was dark and the stars sparkled. The crown, seated atop the mountain, became even brighter before my eyes, illuminated by all the light in the sky.
