How many times have I been to Dali?
A Relaxed life style in Dali, the Bai Autonomous Prefecture
To be frank, I have lost count
of it myself. Since 1985, I have visited Dali at least once a
year. I think, this is probably my eighth or ninth visit to this
capital of the Dali Bai Autonomous Prefecture in Yunnan Province
and the historical home of the Bai minority. It was also once
the capital of NanZhao Kingdom (649-902) and the capital of Dali
Kingdom (937-1253).
Whenever I mention Dali, friends of mine in Tokyo would ask me
with curiosity, "What's so special about Dali? Why do you
go there so often despite the long journey?" I would readily
reply, "it is simply because Dali is a place where I can
feel relaxed."
Dali: Urban People's Attraction
It took me eleven hours from Kunming, capital
of Yunnan, to get to Dali by long-distance bus. It was almost
dusk when I arrived. The streets around the station were flanked
with clusters of snack-bars, barber shops and so on. To my surprise,
many shops had their names written in English on the signboards
in an effort to attract foreign tourists. Occasionally, some
Bai woman came up to me trying to sell souvenirs.
Dali had changed greatly. I missed the old Dali - a little town
with quaint wooden houses. As time went on, it was beginning
to take on a new look, however, this did not put me off from
visiting it. The climate was so fine; and it remained like spring
all year round. The Bais appeared relaxed and content. Their
life was simple and natural. Their Custom and tradition were
well preserved. To me, a man from Tokyo, where the tempo of life
was always so fast, this peaceful existence was bliss. I slowed
down my usual pace, and ambled about leisurely along country
paths. Occasionally, I stopped to watch people reaping wheat
or to enjoy the sunrise and sunset, which reminded me of the
dreams I had enjoyed when I was very small.
A Visit to Wase Village
Dali is situated 400 kilometers to the west of Kunming on
a long narrow rice plain between the undulating Diancang Mountains,
which run as long as fifty kilometers, and Erhai, the second
largest lake in Yunnan. The occasionally snow-capped mountains
and the sapphire blue lake combine to form a splendid landscape.
Lake Erhai is 250 square kilometers in size. Scattered around
it are many villages inhabited by the Bai people, who live on
farming or fishing. Every time when I get to Dali, I would always
spend a couple of days in a local village. There is no particular
reason. I simply like its relaxed pace of life. So, like always,
I planned to stay in a village too during this trip. Around four
o'clock in the afternoon the second day after my arrival, I walked
four kilometers to a dock and caught a ferry boat bound for Wase
Village on the other side of the lake.
Since there were not too many ferry boats scheduled, the boat
I was on was packed to the point of overflowing. Most passengers
were obviously the local Bai people, men and women, old and young.
The women carried bamboo baskets full of vegetables and fruit.
They seemed rather happy with their lot. Students were rather
quiet, their hands still on their bikes' handle bars. Old folks
were busy smoking. A girl dressed in a white blouse and red velvet
vest was bent on embroidering.
The boat passed some islets, reefs and rocks, after forty minutes,
approached Wase Village on the eastern shore in the gloaming
of the evening. The lake water and the little pier were all tinged
red by a setting sun. I quickly took some pictures of the scene.
As a matter of fact, the particular conditions of natural light
often inspired me to use my camera. The light of the period between
rainy season and dry season, the light of morning and dusk, for
example, provided excellent opportunities for professional cameramen
like me and the results often gave me surprise and delight.
When I entered the village, the sun was already behind a mountain.
I stayed with a family of three and that evening we had dinner
together. Spread on the table were sweet potato, bean sprouts,
cucumber and red pepper. Though simply prepared they tasted good.
What touched me most was their warm hospitality.
Early the following morning, I followed the hosts ten-year-old
daughter leading cattle to graze at the lake side. The lake water
was so clam that it looked like a mirror. The fields were very
quiet and the entire scene so tranquil one dared not to speak.
As I closed my eyes, trying to feel the pulse of nature, a peal
of laughter interrupted my concentration. Then I realized that
a group of children had come to play games with the girl.
At first I remained aside watching them chasing one another,
laughing and talking. Then I could not help asking to join in
on the fun. As I ran around with those children, I seemed in
a fantasy world. I could never have imagined that I, a grown
man in his early thirties, would be so excited by and engrossed
in children's games. It reminded me of my school days.
Worship of Benzhu
One fine morning I happened to see the
celebration of Benzhu Festival in Wase Village. Apart from the
major faiths of Buddhism, Taoism and Confucianism, with particular
emphasis on Buddhism, the Bai people worshiped Benzhu, meaning
Master of the Area, who was supposed to be the protector of one
or several villages. Almost every village had a Benzhu temple
in which a clay or wooden sculpture of Benzhu was worshiped.
However, there seemed to be several incarnations of Benzhu. He
could take on the form of an object, a legendary figure, ruler,
official and so on. A grand temple fair would be held around
the lunar New Year or on the occasions of Benzhu's birthday anniversary
so as to ask Benzhu to give blessings to villagers or to ensure
another good harvest.
Early that morning, elderly ladies gathered at the Benzhu Temple,
busy preparing for the sacrificial ceremony. They cooked rice,
and slaughtered chickens and ducks. While burning paper coins,
they repeatedly sang a melody. Though it was impossible to understand
the words, the peaceful tune, accompanied by the rhythmic sound
of bronze bells and gongs, sounded extremely harmonious. The
solemn atmosphere created by the ceremony prevailed throughout
the whole temple.
Beam Installation Day
After frequent visits to villages in
the environs of Dali, I have realized that in many ways the local
celebrations are similar to those of Japan. This is perhaps one
of the reasons why I feel so close to Dali.
Once I passed a household and was shocked by a big bang of firecrackers
from its courtyard. I poked in my head to investigate and found
sixty to seventy people having a meal there. The host invited
me in and asked me to sit down as an honorary guest. I was told
that the occasion was the Beam Installation Day of the host's
new house. His relatives and friends had all come to congratulate
the host on this event.
When the meal was over, the ceremony began. During the process
of installing the beam, the guests were singing. After the completion
of the installation, a man climbed up to the beam and cast dumplings
down to the people below. Everybody rushed to catch them. This
reminded me of a similar custom in Japan. On such occasions,
Japanese would throw mochi, which is quite similar to
Chinese glutinous cakes. "When in Rome, do as the Romans
do", the saying goes. I also picked up a dumpling from the
ground. As instructed, I broke it open and, to my surprise, found,
instead of sweet bean paste or lotus seed paste, a five-fen
coin. When celebrating the completion of a new house in Japan,
apart from giving mochi, the host also chucked five-yen coins
wrapped in paper. I think both the Bai people and the Japanese
share the belief that this indicates harmony and happiness.
Bai People's Hospitality
The Bai people are very friendly. They
would warmly greet visitors when meeting with them in the village.
As I wandered around, an elderly man specially came out of his
house to invite me to have a cup of roasted tea in his house.
Roasted tea is one of the Bai people's favorites. When there
is a guest, the host would roast some tea leaves until they turn
brown and then brew them in boiling water for the guest.
Thinking I knew some Chinese. I tried to converse with the old
man while sipping tea. When asked where I was from, I replied,
"Japan" several times. But his face was rather blank,
unable to understand me. I had no alternative but to write on
a piece of paper. He sized me up and down and said in earnest,
"You don't look like a Japanese at all. I gathered you were
from Shanghai." I gave him a smile instead of engaging in
further explanation, for I have, on several occasions, been mistaken
for Chinese.
This Article was
written by Aoyagi Kenji in 1992
Translated by Wang Mingjie
HK CHINA TOURISM PRESS
menu
Copyright 2001 Aoyagi Kenji. All rights reserved.