06-24-2004, 05:18 PM
East Turkistan(Xinjiang)'s culture being 'renovated' by Han majority
Chinese version of progress rankles Muslim minority
ANDREW CHUNG
SPECIAL TO THE STAR
KASHGAR—The Chinese word chai is made up of seven brush strokes that obliquely slash their way through each other, perhaps fittingly, since it means, "demolish."
Recently, the word was ominously painted upon dozens of mud-and-brick homes and businesses in the old Uighur neighbourhoods that make up the heart of this dusty frontier city, warning, like gang-markings for death, of their impending destruction.
Kashgar, once a Silk Road oasis on the fringes of China's northwest Xinjiang province, is under renovation.
Hundreds of traditional buildings have already been knocked down, and along with them their distinctive Uighur and Arabic architecture that evokes hundreds of years of history — the very things tourists come so far to see.
The government has also started renovating around the 15th-century Id Kah mosque — the largest Muslim worship site in China where hundreds of new stores and restaurants soon will convert the environs into a commercial magnet.
It's not surprising that China's relentless economic rise would reach its hinterland.
But the transformation, so welcome in other cities, is only making the relationship between the Chinese and Kashgar's independence-minded Uighurs — marred over the years by bombings, violence and death — worse than it already is.
"I am very worried that I will have to move far away," says Tursan, a silk and fabric seller.
"We have no other choice but to accept it. We're afraid to disagree."
Most Uighurs walking along Chasa Rd. — amid the familiar din of ruddy-faced men pounding copper, the thick smoke of charred lamb and the whiff of spiced tea — don't want their full names published, saying they fear recriminations for criticizing government policy.
All along its median, though, Uighur men — and boys — are ripping up the dirt road in preparation for a wide, new paved one. Buildings have been marked for demolition.
"When my shop is destroyed, what will I do?" a shoemaker asks. "How will I earn a living? I am so poor as it is. Just look at my own shoes."
Indeed, his toes peek out of broken, leather flaps.
"I'm not against development," he says. "But most Uighurs in Kashgar are very poor. Now, they are destroying what little we have."
For some, the old heart of Kashgar is a beautiful snapshot of history; for others, it's an eyesore.
The earthy brown adobe dwellings, some set high on lumpy hills, stand peacefully along narrow, winding alleyways that, during the day, alternate dim shade and blinding sunlight.
Most of the homes have no toilets or even running water.
Walls are slowly crumbling and nearly everyone complains they are too small.
"Some places are not safe," says driver Akbar Ablimit, who recently moved into a modern apartment and sends his children to Chinese schools.
"The government is doing a good job cleaning up the city."
Some areas will be improved rather than demolished. And residents forced to move will, in theory, be given compensation. In practice, however, many families fall through the gaps.
Even those who counsel the government on tourism issues fear it is moving too fast.
"I have advised them not to destroy too much," says John Hun, a major tour operator. "Otherwise, they will look back and say, `Where is the history?'"
One travel agent rubs his fingers together and says: "A lot of people are making a lot of money off this."
For the majority of Uighurs, Kashgar's renovation is simply another slap in the face.
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`There are Uighurs in government, but we all know they are just dolls'
Yasin, restaurant waiter in Kashgar
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Their identity, based on their Turkic-language and Islamic faith, is ethnically entirely distinct from that of the Han Chinese — the country's majority ethnic group.
And Kashgar is as far away from Beijing, China's capital, as Vancouver is from Toronto.
Uighurs have been struggling for independence since the 18th century, when the region they call "East Turkestan" was swallowed by the Qing dynasty.
There is a fierce mistrust of the Han, who for years have migrated — with Beijing's encouragement — to Xinjiang.
In 1949, when the new Communist government was pledging more Uighur autonomy, the Han made up just 5 per cent of the province's population. At more than 40 per cent now, they are set to eclipse the Uighurs' dominance.
In part, this has helped Beijing develop the northwest's vast mineral and oil riches, leading to 11 per cent economic growth last year — better than in the rest of China.
But observers note that it's mostly the Han who benefit with preferential access to the best jobs, better education and domination of the region's commerce.
It's true for all of Xinjiang's cities that, compared with Uighurs, the Han live in newer neighbourhoods. Signs are written in Chinese, with Uighur an afterthought.
At the Kashgar airport, announcements are only in Chinese, and absurdly, English.
Generally, the two groups stay away from each other. Han student Wen Sen says the relationship is "getting better," yet he still won't approach a Uighur on the street.
Similarly, Uighur foodstall owner Akbar says: "We don't like each other. They think we are all like (Osama) bin Laden or Saddam Hussein."
The Chinese government has harshly curtailed religious freedom in the past, and Uighurs will not forgive Beijing for using the Taklimakan Desert as a nuclear test site.
Now, they think it is the Han who have decided to destroy their homes and businesses in Kashgar.
"There are Uighurs in government, but we all know they are just dolls," says Yasin, a restaurant waiter.
Colin Mackerras, a professor of Chinese studies at Brisbane's Griffith University, says traditional culture is being lost as the city gets "Sinocized." And while development raises peoples' incomes, he adds, the Chinese "could be more sensitive about it."
"In theory, the Uighurs are in charge, but in practice the Chinese influence is much greater," says Mackerras, who studies China's minorities.
Uighur separatists show no reticence about using violence. The 1990s saw widespread riots and murders of Han in Kashgar, with the government calling in army and air support. Officials blamed a 1997 Beijing bus bombing on Uighur extremists and the United States has placed one Uighur group on its list of terrorist organizations.
In response, Chinese authorities viciously cracked down on separatist activities among Uighurs and continue to publicize the executions of those it calls terrorists.
Recently, though, keen to attract investment, Beijing has portrayed the relationship as improving and seems to have eased its chokehold on religious activities.
The provincial chairman said at a recent press briefing that the security situation "is very good."
But the relationship is anything but stable. In fact, earlier this year, a vicious gang fight between Han and Uighur middle school students brandishing knives and machetes broke out in the small Xinjiang petroleum city of Karamay, sources there told the Star.
And the renovation in Kashgar, Uighurs say, is only making people more restive.
Inside the Id Kah, a large sign explains what the government has done for the mosque over the years, including the addition of toilets and extra rooms.
"The Chinese government pays special attention to the religious and historical cultures of the ethnic groups," says the sign. "And such policies ... are very popular."
Not so, it seems, for many in Kashgar