The objective today is to get to a small village somewhere outside Qinyuan, where Zhang Ke lives. Catch the No.37 bus to a bus station then change for for an old wood-seated banger. The bus fills up but shows no sign of going anywhere. An argument breaks out between a passenger and the driver and continues incessantly until we start moving. The argument is typically Chinese involving a lot of shouting, gesturing, posturing, insulting and finger waving but doesn’t develop into physical violence. Eventually, after three bus rides, a twenty minute walk and a short ride in a transit van we arrive at the long distance bus station. It’s near to midday and we still haven’t left the city. We board a crappy old 19-seater bus along with 23 other passengers, plus the conductor and driver – total 28 bodies and numerous items of luggage and freight. As we reach the edge of the city we join a large highway and after 1 hour turn off onto the Qingyuan road. The road soon narrows and becomes rough before becoming a dirt road. Some sections are being replaced by a new highway and the original road has disappeared leaving only a packed earth surface to drive on. The new highway cuts through one village and a number of buildings have been demolished to make way. One house has had the front section demolished but the rear is still in use. The journey reminds me of the bus-ride to Fuzhou last summer. After arriving at a small non-descript town we alight and I assume this is our destination but Zhang Ke says we have to go further. We are immediately harassed by motorcyclists plying for trade. I ask Zhang Ke how far it is to walk and he says 1 kilometre so I say we’ll walk and then set off. The riders are very persistent and continue to hassle the others passengers all the way there. At a bridge over a dried up riverbed I stop to look around and wait for the others to catch up. Zhang Ke mentions that the next bus station is under a tree at the other end of the village. So there is more travelling.
The bus turns up soon after we arrive at the tree and we set off on another broken concrete road jammed into another tin box on wheels – standing room only this time. An elderly lady looks deeply distressed and spends the journey sobbing on the shoulder of her husband. A young woman clutches her face and looks as if she is about to vomit.
About half an hour later we alight at another town with no name and this time Zhang Ke gives us no choice but to take a motorbike each to reach his home. He says it is 6 km away. We set off along another broken concrete surface – if we fall the consequences are going to be unpleasant. The road becomes a dirt track and Kenny directs us to a cluster of houses where his family home is.
It is a traditional Chinese farmhouse in a cluster of similar houses. The entrance opens into the first kitchen area, which then leads to a small courtyard with two outside loos and a manual water pump. The main living area is through a door from the courtyard and is paved with stone blocks. The entrance is 4 metres high and has two wooden doors, which stay open all day; chickens wander in and out as they wish. There is no ceiling; the only thing above is the tiled roof. There are a number of smaller rooms leading off from the main room and this is where the family members sleep – there are 3 generations living at this house at the moment. Walls are bare brick, wooden shelving has been inserted in corners and there are some electrical appliances – fluorescent lighting, a TV, radio. Above the side rooms are store rooms and there is an open mizzen platform above part of the main living room. Furniture is solid wood and simple. After drinking tea all 3 of us get on board Kenny’s motorbike and go bouncing along a dirt track to his family’s new house. It has only just been completed and they will begin moving in soon. In a few moments we are there. The house is not quite finished and looks much more modern than the other one. It stands alone, has 3 floor levels plus a flat roof area. Floors have ceramic tiling, the doors are metal, windows have sliding glass panels and are covered by metal grilles and there are large vents in some of the walls.
Then off to an orange grove up the hill from the house and we’re introduced to other members of his family and afriends working on the grove. We each take a pair of cutters and are shown how to pick satsuma oranges and then spend the next two hours happily stripping the trees of the fruit. After finishing that area of the hillside we go down to where the oranges are sorted for size and grade and then boxed. While standing around a funeral procession appears and enters the house immediately adjacent. The wailing and chanting continues inside the house – but I’m unsure if they are about to go the burial ground or have just returned. The widow was with the procession.
We return to the new house – they will begin moving in tomorrow – but he will sleep here tonight and he tells me I will be sleeping here too. Some food is brought to the house, the first we have had since the morning, which we finish off then continue talking outside. The weather is beautiful and unbelievably warm but the sky is clear which means it might be cool tonight.
We walk back to the old house and start preparing the evening meal. Only one of the kitchen areas is used and it is fitted with two fireplaces to heat two large woks. Water is boiled for everyone to have an evening wash.
The wash area/loo is just a small section of the courtyard surrounded by a brick wall and containing a large bucket as a toilet. Washing is done by stripping off inside the area and then using a ladle to splash yourself down with hot water and washing down. Then dry off and dress up again. Relatively simple and effective.
Dinner is served and everyone sits around the big table in the living room, it consists of rice, three meat and vegetable dishes plus vegetable soup. Clear away the pots afterwards and more washing up.
I’m invited to visit Zhang Ke’s neighbours for half an hour. There is a full turnout as apparently I am the first foreigner to visit the village [can this be true, or do they tell everyone that story?].
After returning to the Zhang house the children follow us in and sit around. Zhang Ke finds a calendar and asks me if I understand the Chinese zodiac signs; I don’t so we sit around talking about the meanings of our different signs. Ke is a monkey, Jiamin a pig and I’m a rat. The meaning of some of the qualities is blurred in the translations [and I'm geting sleepy].
At bed time we board Zhang Ke’s motorbike and set off for the new house. The downstairs toilet is locked and he doesn’t have the key. The upstairs WC isn’t working as the water pressure is too low so we take a couple of buckets of water with us to flush the toilet.
The night is the most peaceful I have had since leaving Jiujiang. Must be up early in the morning as his family will be arriving at 7:00. It’s a tradition.
