MERSING CHRONICLES

Chapter 17 Xining

Jenny observed the double storey delapidated emporium in Xining. She had done some research on the city and this building was one of the oldest, 150 years old. It's 2nd storey was abandoned many years ago and only it's first storey remained. It serves as an outdoor food court. It's wall were greyish green, it's paint peeling off in large areas revealing the grey concrete beneath. The wooden tables and chairs were simple and functional. The place was half full that morning and she looked at the offerings above the individual stalls. 

She recognised a few but were thrown off by others. The writings were in Mandarin, so maybe it was her Mandarin that wasn't good. 

"Chicken with caterpillar fungus, lamb cooked with mushroom, soup cooked with lamb and oxen entrails", she translated out loud. She recognized the kebab and went for that. It resembled the home-grown satay back in Singapore. 

While waiting for her meal, she observed the patrons around her. Their fashion was contemporary, pants and T shirt for the guys, and skirts and blouse for the girls. Hardly exotic. Occasionally there was the eccentric looking garb that seemed medieval. The guys had long flowing robes with a rope tied around their waist and the girls had similar robes with ropes around their waist. But the female robes had more adornments and were colorful. Red, yellow, and green. It reminded her of Mongolian costumes in movies with Genghiz Khan themes. 

Xining has a population of 3 million, practically a town compared to the usual 30 - 40 million provincial capitals elsewhere in China. It was third world and had open sewers. So there was a stink in the air in certain places. 

Situated right smack in the middle of China it was far from the ocean 1,500 km to the east; 1000 km from the border with India to the South West with the Himalayas between India and China; 1500 km south to the border with Laos, and Vietnam, and 600 km north to the border with Mongolia and the massive Gobi Desert.  So it seemed a perfect choice to place a prisoner if you wanted that person to disappear. In addition to escaping the prison that POW had to trek through hundreds of km of hostile territory and fight the natural barriers of deserts or mountains before he could escape China.

She had called her AFP contact for the name of the journalist that filed the original story of the elderly farmer with the sumpit.  The journalist, a French free lancer who sold the story to AFP, was based in Beijing and she had a conversation with him over the phone. The man had heard the story over a Beijing radio station, and was intrigued. He contacted his sources in Xining and got the name of the elderly farmer, Ah No. He flew to Xining and spent a week there looking for his address. He located his village, Halejing, somewhere two hours from Xining to the north-west. He had to get a permit to travel outside of Xining, and that was a three day process. A guide was assigned to him, who acted as a translator as the residents in Halejing Village spoke a Qinghai dialect, called Amdo Tibetan.  Halejing Village is located within the region historically claimed by Tibetan exiles as sovereign Tibet. What was strange about this visit was the guide made a stop at a town, Qinghaihuxiang, to pick up an official before heading to the village 30 minutes away. Usually for trips like this, a guide was sufficient, as the guide had strict instructions to avoid sensitive regions, and acted as a censor while translating only the good and ignoring the bad. So a second official accompanying them was additional security that seemed superfluous. 

"No photos," the official had said to the free lancer from Beijing.

Jenny had arranged for her own guide and will be meeting the person tomorrow. She expected the same process.