Tradition and Technology in Zhongliu

By Eric Bush

You can tell a lot about a Yao woman by the length of her hair. Women in the Yao ethnicity, a minority in the southern Chinese Guangxi province, cut their hair only once in their lifetime upon reaching adulthood. For hundreds of years, the Yao lived simple, isolated lives deeply rooted in tradition and untouched by the outside world. To survive in their rugged terrain, they grew rice on terraces cut into mountains. Today, the rice terraces are no longer economically viable solely from the crops they produce; instead, they are maintained because their stunning beauty draws busloads of tourists.

Christian and I as we overlooked Ping’an Village

I first visited a village in this area called Ping’an in 2013. At the time, it was extremely rustic; the road did not extend all the way into the village and we were forced to hike the rest of the way to our inn on foot. I fondly remembered this peaceful, laid back village, so six years later my brother, Christian, and I decided to return. The village is still difficult to reach, but markedly more developed and flowing with tour groups on day trips from Guilin, a city about 100 km away. Most tourists climb to a nearby overlook, have a nice meal in the village, then board their tour bus back to Guilin. Christian and I decided to embark on a seven-mile hike from Ping’an to Dazhai, a neighboring village. Few tourists venture this far; in fact, we only saw one other

group.

Yao women leading us to their home in Zhongliu Village

About two hours into the hike, we encountered two elderly Yao women selling water along the trail. Christian and I both speak some Mandarin and were able to communicate with the women. They ended up inviting us into their home in Zhongliu, a nearby village with apparently only 13 permanent residents, for lunch. We followed them into their home, a surprisingly large wooden house that was sparsely furnished. They lacked a refrigerator, oven, and most other kitchen devices we take for granted. Instead, they built an open fire in the corner of the room.

“Do you eat pork?”, one of the women asked. We replied in the affirmative, wondering where the meat would come from given that they didn’t have a refrigerator. Then I looked up and saw a smoked pig leg hanging from the ceiling. Our host took a knife and began to cut meat from it! Christian and I looked at each other and shrugged.

Delicious nourishment along the trail

Then, two young children and a mother in her mid-twenties entered the room. Our hosts immediately paused to greet the children. Here were three generations of Yao women, but only the two elderly ladies kept their hair and clothing in the traditional style. In an amazing contrast to the rustic kitchen setup, the young mother produced a smart phone and handed it to one of the children who began playing a game.

As I observed the scene, I considered that for the elderly women, life had probably never been more interesting. Having grown up in what was a remote and still underdeveloped village, they were now welcoming into their home two travelers from more than 8,000 miles away. They spent their days gossiping with the other village women along a trail they had likely walked for their entire lives. But now, they never knew who would appear along that trail and from how far that person might have come. Now nearing the end of their lives, they had no reason not to

be content.

But for the young mother, I couldn’t help but feel a collision between two ways of life. I’m sure she felt a sense of loyalty to her family, village, and Yao culture. But staying in the village would provide little more opportunity than selling provisions to hungry hikers and posing for photos in native Yao attire. Now that the outside world had caught up with Zhongliu, there would be no going back. In theory she has a choice between two ways of life, but in reality it’s already been made, if not for her, then certainly for her children.

Our hosts showing off their hair

Life in Zhongliu won’t continue as it was in the past. I don’t know if that’s good or bad thing; it’s just how it is. But I’m grateful for our hike that afternoon and our incredible cross-cultural interaction. Even if the traditional Yao lifestyle can’t continue, we can learn from them. When I look back on this experience, I’ll remember to be more grateful for what I have, more generous to neighbors and strangers alike, and more devoted to my family and community.

Eric Bush is a McConnell Scholar in the Class of 2020. He is studying finance, political science, and Chinese at the University of Louisville.