The Heart of Sichuan: Part 2

At about 5:00 in the morning, Liu woke me up and I quickly dressed in my tennis shoes and a rain jacket. We ate a rushed breakfast and then the two of us, one teacher from the school, and 3 boys from grade 6 (all age 15) hopped in the weird van and rode along the dirt road for another hour. At the end of the hour, we were dropped off at a trail. We began a hike up into the mountains to a village where some Yizhu people live. The Yizhu people (more commonly known as Yi People) are an ethnic group of China who are scattered throughout the south of Sichuan as well as other places in the south western part of China. They have their own language which is one of the coolest sounding languages I’ve ever heard (and the coolest looking written language) and they wear beautiful handmade clothing. Most of them are very poor as they are farmers and livestock herders by trade. They enjoy the mountainous regions of China.

We hiked for 2 hours in some of the most beautiful scenery I’ve ever seen. I wish cameras did the beauty justice; however, it’s just not possible. It had rained the day before we left so there were mudslides and rock slides along the trail that we had to find ways to get through or around.  It was a really difficult hike full of steep and dangerous terrain. It was so strange to me to think about the trail. I’ve only ever hiked on trails meant for recreation, but this trail was someone’s only means of getting home. I felt like I’d walked into another world.

When we arrived at the village, it wasn’t what I expected. In my head, I pictured several homes in relative proximity to each other. Instead, one steep trail off the main path lead to one house, and behind that house, there was another trail that lead to several other homes and so on. We hiked up one steep trail that was muddy and slippery. I couldn’t help but think it wouldn’t be fun to go back down this trial and I’d probably fall to my death. At the top, there was an old house fashioned out of some strange cement. There was a large pile of wood to one side and sitting in front of the house was a family including all living generations. As I came over the crest, they clapped for me. When you are red faced and sweaty, the last thing you want is a lot of attention, but as the only white person for miles, that is exactly what you get. They rushed to get me a chair and a water bottle and encouraged me to sit. The thing is, my Chinese did me absolutely no good because these people don’t speak Chinese. They speak Yizhu. The teacher that came with us spoke both so he translated into Chinese and then Liu translated into English… sometimes. The truth is, her English isn’t that good so translation was sometimes pretty slim. 

Okay, almost always.

I felt like I was in a dream. I just couldn’t stop drinking in my surroundings: the beauty of the mountains, the clothing of the people, their home, and the darling children. I wish you could’ve been there. I wish you could’ve seen. I find words fail me. What I saw and felt is beyond description.

We started immediately gathering information about the kids who aren’t in school and as we worked, more and more people came in from the trails. I was overwhelmed by the number of people living in the mountains. I could see how poor they were. I didn’t need to look in their homes or in their wallets. Their clothes were dirty and ripped. While the people gathered, one father was sewing his son’s rubber rain boots up where they had ripped. I felt their humility (and for some, their pride), and I felt their close relationship with everyone in the village. The men smoked together, the women gathered in the shade to laugh and talk and the children ran around, sometimes dangerously close to the cliffs making me feel on edge. The women openly breast fed their babies and toddlers and I tried not to be uncomfortable about it. This is their way of life, not mine.

One girl cried when we asked her why she isn’t in school. She’s 14 and really wants to go. Her parents knew we were coming and didn’t come because they didn’t want to talk to us. Other kids stood by as we encouraged their parents to let them go. Some need their children to care for a blind grandmother, watch some livestock, or other work. These kids are forced to grow up so fast. Some get married at as early as 14. It’s a different way of life in those mountains and it’s hard to understand, but with an open heart, it’s possible to accept it.

There was one boy, age 23, who asked us if we would help him to go to university so he could study English. Liu turned him away. She told him she came from a small village and she worked hard and made a life for herself. He shouldn’t be lazy, but work hard to get there by himself. When she told me about that, I was really upset. This boy lives at least 10 hours from the nearest university, two hours on foot and then 8 hours by car in an ideal situation. He lives in the middle of nowhere for heaven’s sake! How is he supposed to get there on his own when everyone around him is just trying to get by? Unfortunately, we didn’t get any of his information. I am driven to madness when I think of him and I can’t get him off my mind. I told my boss what happened and we agreed we need to find him and help him. I spent the entire 8 hour drive back to Xichang thinking of ways to find him. I will find him and he will go to university if it’s the last thing I do. I can’t imagine how awful it was for him. The hope he felt when we came and then to be turned away and told he’s lazy. It makes my heart ache. He deserves a chance. I want to find a way to give him that chance.

We gathered the names of several kids as well as their pictures. Then we gathered information of the elderly and poor families. Many had lost loved ones and many more were very poor.

Near the end of our time on the little mountaintop, we began handing out clothes to the children that volunteers at Roundabout had sorted. I was so overwhelmed and struggled then failed to hold back my tears. Even now I can’t help but get emotional.  Imagine a child dressed in dirty and ripped clothes getting something new. Some kids put on their new clothes immediately over the top of the clothes they were already wearing. Others hugged their clothing tightly and wouldn’t let go when someone tried to see what they got. The smiles on people’s faces were so beautiful to me.  I kept thinking about how this is what my work at Roundabout is doing for people. This is what the last two months have been about. The next time I sorted clothes I saw those smiles and felt that excitement that was in the air on that mountain in the sun. I made a difference to someone. I made a little mark on the world, but I feel like the world made a huge mark on my heart, one that I will never, ever forget.

While I was on that mountain, my world seemed so trivial. What was I focused on in America? Hair, clothes, music, shoes, my weight, but here, halfway across the world are people who have nothing and they can still smile, they can still run and play and laugh. They don’t have a place to shower, but they don’t mind. They don’t own a car or know the songs playing on the radio, but that’s not important. If they had so much food that they could start worrying about weight, that would be a step up. It changed me. I couldn’t help but feel that my life would lead me back to those mountains and those people some day. From my experience, those feelings usually aren’t wrong. Once you see something like that, you can’t go back.

We returned to the school where we handed out more clothes, cookies, and candy as well as some school supplies and shoes. Like the kids on the mountain, these kids put their clothes on right away. They ate their cookies too fast, and then ate their candy right after. They traded pencils, colored pencils, and crayons with each other for at least a half an hour, and when they had free time, we danced, played games, and sang songs together. One girl gave me her bracelet, others crowded close just so they could get a hug or a smile. They just wanted some love and attention and Kendra and I were happy to give it. I was sad to leave those mountains and even more sad to leave the kids.

I hope that what I’m saying isn’t offensive to anyone. I’m just sharing openly how I felt and what I saw. I know that when I’m in America, it’s harder to remember these things and think of the poverty because everything around me is so much better and I’m accustomed to it. I accept that and I don’t condemn anyone.

I can’t begin to express my gratitude to China Horizons for allowing me to come back to China, Leslie for letting us work with her at Roundabout, and Roundabout for changing my life. I know that there is someone shaping me and my life. I don’t know what He has planned for me, but I look forward to my future and the possibilities that lie ahead.

This is why I love China. This is why I went back.

If you click on the pictures, they get bigger so you can see better. Sorry that some of the quality is lacking. I have soooo many pictures but I tried to chose the best ones.

This little girl is wearing her new jumper.

New shorts. Perfect.

Look at those smiles!

New clothes in hand.

Holding a new born baby. SO adorable!

Stuffing their faces with cookies.

Me and Liu handing out clothes to the kids.

The Heart of Sichuan: Part 1

As part of my work at Roundabout, and because the owner of Roundabout is absolutely incredible, I went on a trip to one of the most beautiful places in China. We went with the intention to locate children who are not in school and begin a sponsorship program to help them get there.

Kendra and I woke up bright and early to catch a taxi to the airport with Liu, one of our co-workers who would serve as our translator and help with arrangements and information gathering. We started out by leaving Beijing and flying to Chengdu in Sichuan province and then we caught a connecting flight to Xichang. When we got off the plane, I could feel my head clearing. It’s amazing what three months of breathing polluted air does to your brain.

Xichang is absolutely beautiful, lush, and green.  We met with Father Martin, a Korean Catholic missionary here in China and he connected us with the school we’d be going to help in the mountains. We had to wait until the next day to travel to the next destination, so he took us to lunch and showed us around Xichang. We went to Qiong Hai Lake and afterwards, he mentioned some Chinese boys he wanted us to meet. He didn’t really give us a choice, so we went with him to another park where we met with two Chinese college students.

Awkward!

They didn’t speak much English and Father Martin was continuosly telling us how “cutie” the boys are.  One of the boys asked us what we like to do and Father Martin answered for Kendra saying she likes to ride bikes.

Which she doesn’t.

At all.

The next morning we met at the church to go up into the mountains with two of the sister missionaries. We started out in a funny looking van of sorts that took us on roughly paved roads full of pot holes for almost 3 hours. We arrived at a place called Zhaojue where we bought some fruit and such and then moved to another funny looking car. From here, we moved onto rough dirt roads.

The driver drove fast.

He broke his car.

We changed cars.

Then we were off again. We followed a stream that was the color of caramel for most of the 5 hours we were in the car. The scenery got increasingly more beautiful as we went. The other driver drove too fast too, but by some stroke of luck, his car held up. It was cramped and it was too hard to talk because we were like rag dolls in a toy car flailing around. There were tons of people living in the mountains and along the road. It felt like we were in the middle of nowhere and then all the sudden, there would be a little village. It was a strange feeling.

We got to the boarding school and it was such a relief to get out of that car. Kendra got pretty car sick. It’s pretty much a miracle I didn’t. My body felt unaccustomed to the lack of movement after the car stopped and I wasn’t bouncing around and my head wasn’t hitting the side of the car. We got a quick glimpse of the kids before we were ushered into the sister’s living area for dinner. They were looking at us curiously though they were too afraid to approach us.

Following dinner, we had a meeting with the teachers of the school to get information from them. We had a lot of questions.

A lot.

How many kids, where do they come from, what’s the money situation in their families, are their parents living, what supplies do they need, and so on.

In the initial meeting, we learned that there were 68 kids all from villages in the area. The school is paired with a sort of care home for elderly mental patients. Although the government funds the school and hires the teachers, they have difficulty hiring because there is a belief that the patients are contagious. The government will pay for children to come to the elementary school, but once they finish grade 6, the government removes any funding and most, if not all the teenagers don’t go on to middle school, instead they return to the mountains and their villages where they will most likely live for the rest of their lives. We learned that the middle school is in Zhaojue, almost five hours away. For one child to go to middle school for a year, it costs approximately 5,000RMB (roughly $800).

At that, we asked the teachers to gather all the grade 6 kids. There were 15 total at the school. We began by taking their information: name, age, gender, and family situation. Following that, we took each of their pictures. Some kids parents had died and they live with grandparents or other relatives when they aren’t at school. Many of the children come from large families. The government doesn’t regulate the number of children people have in the mountains villages so family sizes can go up to 8 kids in some families. They need help on their farms with the livestock, so the more hands the better.

On a side note, as I counted to three to take their pictures, each kids face went from pleasant to scared or uncomfortable. These kids aren’t used to getting their pictures taken.

I went to bed that night on a bed with a board for a mattress with thoughts of the kids’ situations swimming in my mind. I didn’t know that the next day, things would only get worse.

That next afternoon, while the kids were on break, we toured the school. We started with the class rooms. There were 5 rooms with a blackboard and some desks and chairs. There were no pictures on the wall, no stimulation, no friendly colors. It was down to the very basic necessities.

My heart was sinking and I wasn't prepared for what we saw next. A stench that smelled like rotten milk mixed with dirty bodies reached my nose as we entered the kids dormitory. We walked through each room with two bunk beds or more each. The bedding was old, ripped and stained. I would bet my life that they had never been washed. Stuffed next to their pillows were the few very dirty other clothes they owned. Under the bedding were two thin mats that looked like they were made of leather. In between the mats it was crawling with bugs. My heart broke and tears filled my eyes. How could they be living like this? I slept in a bed that was clean, free of stains, rips, and bugs while just two buildings over they lived like this. These sister that live at the school should be helping these kids, but why aren't they? Why aren't the clothes and bedding being washed? Why?

Then we went to the next level up where the teachers sleep and the conditions weren't much better. It smelled better, but not by much. The teachers kitchen wasn't a kitchen at all. They cook on the floor and they don't have a fridge to keep their food fresh. They don't have any kind of desk or office to work in and the TV they have was paid for by one of the teachers with his own money. These men have such good hearts. The conditions are bad and they don't actually have to be there, but they are there for the kids. They are the best thing the kids have at that school. We asked them what they needed and Roundabout will do it's best to make things better for both the kids and the teachers.

To read part two, click here.