It rained all day today. By the time midday came I decided that I should go out anyway, no matter what the weather. The girl in the cafe attached to the hotel had suggested yesterday that I should go to an old village called azheke which is about an hour’s walk. Apparently taxis don’t go there so there was no choice than to walk.
After an hour and a half I arrived very wet at a village called niuluopu where I stopped to dry out. I was soon surrounded by curious men and children and even though I dropped a lot of hints, there was no little cafe. Still hungry after half an hour I turned off the ‘main road’ down a narrow track to the world heritage village. Even though it was still raining the village looked superb – well if you see past the litter strewn all over the place.
The houses are called ‘mushroom houses’ and have the animals below, then the people and the food at the top of the house. It felt a little like I imagine Medieval England to have been like.
Chicken were all over the place and every family seemed to own at least a pig and often a water buffalo. I was wetter than wet by the time I got to the centre of the village and a young girl who spoke Mandarin Chinese asked me if I wanted to sit in their house for a while out of the rain.
I thanked her and sat watching her mother sewing a pair of traditional trousers. They didn’t really speak to me – only to ask where I was from and unusually didn’t want to chat or offer food or drink. This is unusual in China.
After about 20 minutes I decided to carry on through the village into the rice terraces and waved to the young son (about 6 or 7 years old). He quickly came towards me and asked me (in well practised Mandarin Chinese) to give him one yuan (10p). I asked why I should give him money – he didn’t know what to say. But when saying goodbye to the mother, she looked up from her sewing machine and said (again in Chinese) I should give him the money.
These are people who don’t speak Chinese but they have learn enough to ask tourists for money – that’s very sad. And when I went back through the village some other boys shouted at me to give them 10p each. I didn’t give any money. This constitutes begging and if I give to these kids every tourist who visits that village will be expected to give too.
It’s very sad that people cannot give friendship without expecting monetary reward. I am happy to pay for food and drink but not for sitting out of the rain for 20 minutes – not even in the house, but on the covered area overhanging the street.
The Hani people are doing themselves a disservice. The journey.