Post by con's fly is open on Jan 19, 2005 9:25:02 GMT 7
SYLVIA YU:
Progress threatens China's Tiger Leaping Gorge
CBC News Viewpoint | January 17, 2005
Sylvia is an author and journalist based in Beijing. Her varied career includes working as a broadcast journalist, TV producer, magazine editor and freelance writer in Vancouver, Victoria and Toronto. She helped establish the Asian Heritage Society in Victoria, B.C. She's currently writing a book on "Comfort women" or military sex slaves used by the Japanese Imperial Army.
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"Ni Hao," said the middle-aged man dressed in a wrinkly brown suit. "Ni Hao," I replied, in the usual Chinese greeting. The man, with a wispy, sparse, almost unkempt moustache, stepped into the hikers' café and introduced himself as Mr. Huang.
He was the one we had been waiting for. Huang was appointed by local villagers to drive some of us journalists to a highly sensitive area, called "Tiger Leaping Gorge" located in Yunnan province in Southern China.
For journalists, "Hutiaoxia," as locals call the gorge, has been off-limits because of a secret government project to dam the river that runs through it. But the gregarious Mr. Huang, seemed nonchalant about the risks involved in taking us. If we were caught, he, as a local Chinese, would be in more trouble than we would.
Hutiaoxia draws thousands of tourists and die-hard backpackers every year. As we entered, along a narrow, winding road, I could understand why. To say the gorge is spectacular is an understatement. It's been compared to the Grand Canyon in the States.
And believe me, it's not for the claustrophobic. Known as one of the world's deepest gorges, when you walk through, it sometimes feels as if both sides are closing in on you. Add to that the sound of the river, echoing along the cliff walls, and it's true to a sign that reads: "It has the power of 10,000 stampeding horses." The gorge's name actually comes from a legend that a tiger being hunted by villagers once leaped straight across the river from one cliff to another.
The first person Mr. Huang took us to was Sean Xia. He owns a guesthouse in the gorge. "I was the first one here," he proudly tells us. Xia is a short, sprightly 40-year-old man with a long ponytail. His left hand is crippled due to a beating during the Cultural Revolution of the 1960s. But he's never shied away from standing his ground. And he says he's not about to now. "We will fight," Xia says. "The gorge is not only China's gorge, it is the world's gorge."
Xia risks losing everything. Because of his disability, he's always been told by others he'd never amount to anything. His guesthouse is a standing testimony to the fact that the others were wrong, and it's partly why Xia is so passionate about protecting the gorge.
But there are so many other reasons. Eight dams are scheduled to be built along a 250-kilometre stretch of the river. It would flood a UNESCO World Heritage site and put dozens of villages under water, villages that are on some of the most fertile farmland in the region.
Taking a makeshift ferry, we crossed the river to one of the villages. It happens to be where Huang, our driver, is from. Huang introduced us to a rotund, sun-baked man dressed in a stark white dress shirt.
"I'm Mr. Zhong," he said with an air of authority.
Zhong is the village's appointed spokesperson, and a rare shining example of agricultural success. His fields have brought in rich harvests for years. "All this has helped put my children through university," he told us, with a sweeping gesture across his land.
The government has talked about compensating people here, but Zhong said no money could replace what is "home" to his people. "This is where we have lived for hundreds of years, we're not going to give this up, this is our home, our paradise," he said, suddenly in tears.
Like Xia, the guesthouse operator, Zhong also pledged to fiercely defend the gorge. But it's a battle that won't be easily won.
Following the relative success of the Three Gorges Dam Project, the world's largest, provincial governments are turning to hydroelectric power in a major way.
The need to feed the country's hunger for electricity is today an ever-constant obsession. Especially in light of this past summer, when in major economic centres like Shanghai, brownouts rolled through the city like a wave. Along main tourist strips, like The Bund, the city forced buildings to shut off their lights by 10 o'clock at night. The experience wasn't good for tourism, not to mention its impact on industry and the economy.
According to documents secretly obtained and released by activists, at least 100,000 people initially will have to relocate if the dams are built in the gorge. In the end the number may be more like a million.
An Australian woman who for seven years has run a café around the head of the gorge holds out less hope than the others. "You can't fight Li Xiaopeng," she laments. Li is the son of Li Peng, China's former prime minister. Among China watchers, "father Peng" is known for his obsession with dams, having pushed through the controversial Three Gorges Dam project, despite loud complaints from residents and environmentalists.
Li Xiaopeng is said to be behind the power company interested in harnessing the power of the Tiger Leaping Gorge.
As Mr. Huang shifted into high gear on the final bend out of the gorge, I turned around for a final look. I wondered what the gorge would look like in five years. Would it still hold the magic that has drawn so many curiosity seekers and adventurers? Or would it become a piece of China's past, only to be experienced in pictures found in a history book.
Progress threatens China's Tiger Leaping Gorge
CBC News Viewpoint | January 17, 2005
Sylvia is an author and journalist based in Beijing. Her varied career includes working as a broadcast journalist, TV producer, magazine editor and freelance writer in Vancouver, Victoria and Toronto. She helped establish the Asian Heritage Society in Victoria, B.C. She's currently writing a book on "Comfort women" or military sex slaves used by the Japanese Imperial Army.
************************
"Ni Hao," said the middle-aged man dressed in a wrinkly brown suit. "Ni Hao," I replied, in the usual Chinese greeting. The man, with a wispy, sparse, almost unkempt moustache, stepped into the hikers' café and introduced himself as Mr. Huang.
He was the one we had been waiting for. Huang was appointed by local villagers to drive some of us journalists to a highly sensitive area, called "Tiger Leaping Gorge" located in Yunnan province in Southern China.
For journalists, "Hutiaoxia," as locals call the gorge, has been off-limits because of a secret government project to dam the river that runs through it. But the gregarious Mr. Huang, seemed nonchalant about the risks involved in taking us. If we were caught, he, as a local Chinese, would be in more trouble than we would.
Hutiaoxia draws thousands of tourists and die-hard backpackers every year. As we entered, along a narrow, winding road, I could understand why. To say the gorge is spectacular is an understatement. It's been compared to the Grand Canyon in the States.
And believe me, it's not for the claustrophobic. Known as one of the world's deepest gorges, when you walk through, it sometimes feels as if both sides are closing in on you. Add to that the sound of the river, echoing along the cliff walls, and it's true to a sign that reads: "It has the power of 10,000 stampeding horses." The gorge's name actually comes from a legend that a tiger being hunted by villagers once leaped straight across the river from one cliff to another.
The first person Mr. Huang took us to was Sean Xia. He owns a guesthouse in the gorge. "I was the first one here," he proudly tells us. Xia is a short, sprightly 40-year-old man with a long ponytail. His left hand is crippled due to a beating during the Cultural Revolution of the 1960s. But he's never shied away from standing his ground. And he says he's not about to now. "We will fight," Xia says. "The gorge is not only China's gorge, it is the world's gorge."
Xia risks losing everything. Because of his disability, he's always been told by others he'd never amount to anything. His guesthouse is a standing testimony to the fact that the others were wrong, and it's partly why Xia is so passionate about protecting the gorge.
But there are so many other reasons. Eight dams are scheduled to be built along a 250-kilometre stretch of the river. It would flood a UNESCO World Heritage site and put dozens of villages under water, villages that are on some of the most fertile farmland in the region.
Taking a makeshift ferry, we crossed the river to one of the villages. It happens to be where Huang, our driver, is from. Huang introduced us to a rotund, sun-baked man dressed in a stark white dress shirt.
"I'm Mr. Zhong," he said with an air of authority.
Zhong is the village's appointed spokesperson, and a rare shining example of agricultural success. His fields have brought in rich harvests for years. "All this has helped put my children through university," he told us, with a sweeping gesture across his land.
The government has talked about compensating people here, but Zhong said no money could replace what is "home" to his people. "This is where we have lived for hundreds of years, we're not going to give this up, this is our home, our paradise," he said, suddenly in tears.
Like Xia, the guesthouse operator, Zhong also pledged to fiercely defend the gorge. But it's a battle that won't be easily won.
Following the relative success of the Three Gorges Dam Project, the world's largest, provincial governments are turning to hydroelectric power in a major way.
The need to feed the country's hunger for electricity is today an ever-constant obsession. Especially in light of this past summer, when in major economic centres like Shanghai, brownouts rolled through the city like a wave. Along main tourist strips, like The Bund, the city forced buildings to shut off their lights by 10 o'clock at night. The experience wasn't good for tourism, not to mention its impact on industry and the economy.
According to documents secretly obtained and released by activists, at least 100,000 people initially will have to relocate if the dams are built in the gorge. In the end the number may be more like a million.
An Australian woman who for seven years has run a café around the head of the gorge holds out less hope than the others. "You can't fight Li Xiaopeng," she laments. Li is the son of Li Peng, China's former prime minister. Among China watchers, "father Peng" is known for his obsession with dams, having pushed through the controversial Three Gorges Dam project, despite loud complaints from residents and environmentalists.
Li Xiaopeng is said to be behind the power company interested in harnessing the power of the Tiger Leaping Gorge.
As Mr. Huang shifted into high gear on the final bend out of the gorge, I turned around for a final look. I wondered what the gorge would look like in five years. Would it still hold the magic that has drawn so many curiosity seekers and adventurers? Or would it become a piece of China's past, only to be experienced in pictures found in a history book.
