Tong Liya: Each Xinjianger who has moved out of Xinjiang seems to have a sense of responsibility to tell the world about that land and the people who live on it.
However far you travel from home, your tongue will always tell you what “true good” food is. When Xinjiang’s apricot season rolls around, wherever I am and whatever I may be doing, remembrances send me back to that courtyard of my childhood days and fill my nostrils with that sweet, lightly perfumed smell every Xinjianger knows. Drying apricots and making jam there are some of my fondest childhood memories. As adults talked and laughed, I cocked my head, watched the glass jar being filled, and anticipated the impending sweetness.
Xinjiangers are known to be straightforward and hospitable, which may be related to the geographic and demographic environment we grow up in. For generations, we Xibes have lived among different ethnic groups, including Kazakhs and Uyghurs who often gather, sing, and dance. Multiethnicity has also made us natural linguists. My grandma, who did not speak Chinese, taught me Xibe since I was a child, but I switched back to Chinese when I started communicating more with my parents. As I grew, I learned Kazakh and Uyghur from my neighbors. When neighbors visited, they also easily switched between Xibe and Chinese and we communicated smoothly without noticing multiple languages were being used. Later, I learned that we Xibes are gifted in language and can “naturally speak in nine tongues.”
Still later, when I grew up, I easily learned to dance. In fact, every Xinjianger excels at dancing, just as every Brazilian is good at soccer. We may not intentionally do special poses or follow a certain beat, but we gathered together to dance Meshrep or Muqam. As we danced, we got to know each other and then sat on the roadside to drink Kvass. By early evening, when people were done with work, they would gather in twos or threes in the plaza or go to a friend’s courtyard to sing, dance and have fun. It only takes Xinjiangers a few songs and dances to forget their troubles. We are all simple, straightforward people who tend to speak in songs and express our feelings through body language. I believe deep within me that the harder you work, the luckier you will be. That’s why I don’t fear suffering or hindrances. I am convinced one should try to pursue one’s dream however hard it is. You may not fulfill that dream as fast as you want, or maybe you fail completely, but your hard work will pave the way to your greatest dream. You will get some return and your labor will not be in vain.
Beijing used to be one of those beautiful dreams of mine. The first time I went to Beijing was 1999, when the PRC was celebrating the 50th anniversary of its founding. During the National Day Parade on October 1, I danced on the second floor of a float on behalf of my Xinjiang high school as the sun gleamed brilliantly on top of the glass mansions, I had only heard of in fairy tales. I was fascinated by the beautiful flowers and fluttering butterflies all around me and the blue sky above. I said to myself then and there that I wanted to come to Beijing to study, work, and live. In 2003, I got a job offer from China National Song and Dance Troupe and came to Beijing for real-only to find it was being plagued by a SARS outbreak. Because of the epidemic, the troupe had few performance appointments and we were only paid a minimal base salary. We were hard-up and barely danced at all. Many of us thought about throwing in the towel, but I couldn’t afford to do that. One day when I was feeling the pinch, I called my mom. When she asked how I was and if I wanted to return to Xinjiang, my heart warmed and I was so lifted that I could endure all hardships. I told her I was fine. The following year, I performed a solo dance at the Chinese New Year Gala organized by the Ministry of Culture. That was the brightest moment in my dance career. I had other dreams to pursue. I wanted to attend college in Beijing. I was excited when I saw some colleagues apply for admission to the Central Academy of Drama or the Beijing Film Academy. To focus on admission exams, I resigned from NSDE when I returned to Beijing. The leader tried to convince me to stay by saying “You need a job when you graduate, it’s easier to leave than come back…” But I wasn’t ready to give up my dream. Maybe I was nuts, but once I set my mind on something, I will never let go of it unless I tried my best. I would always regret it if I gave up when my dream was within reach. My mind was made up, I heard my wheel of fortune turning and knew it was time to take that first step. The next steps would take care of themselves.
After passing the national entrance exam, I was admitted to the Performing Arts Department of the Central Academy of Drama. Four years of college life was as beautiful as I could imagine. I formed a close relationship with my classmates. We studied, acted, exercised, and grew together and saw how hard we raced on our career paths. Our precious friendship was cemented by a common dream called Beijing, even though we came from different places and backgrounds. I’ve always felt very lucky because Providence kept showering with mana, though never in the most timely or convenient ways. I had yet to bend down and pick it up. It looked like an easy process, but not without suffering. I could live with that because of the harvest ahead of me.
I trust that every young dreamer in Beijing has been blessed in some way, be it the free mana or the fruits of our labor. In exchange for a lamp of our own, we gave our youth, passion, time, and talent so the paths before us would be all lit up.
Each recent graduate of the Central Academy of Drama who wants to progress on his or her performing career ladder must begin by self-promoting. I was no exception. I sent my bios and other promotional material to all accessible movie producers and directors so they could contact me when they had roles to suit me. It was during those promotional tours that I began to see how big Beijing was. A bus ride from one end of the city to the other could take over three hours. Rejections were inevitable, but I had to do what I had to do if I wanted name recognition.
We all took baby steps by playing minor roles, progressing gradually. When I got my first role from Director Derek Yee based in Guangzhou, I thought he was a crook and he and his staff had to patiently prove their identities before I dubiously agreed to join them. It turned out to be a very good role through which I entered the movie circle. I am very grateful to him for having graciously led me into the movie circle and have been in touch with him ever since. I played the role of Shen Bing in the TV series Beijing Love Story. On the first night Shen Bing arrived in Beijing, her boyfriend took her to the rooftop of a mansion and she shouted to the lit-up city: “Beijing, I am here to stay!” This marked one of the most touching moments of the soap opera, viewers who watched it told me the shout struck a chord in their hearts because Beijing was the synecdoche of their dreams and Shen Bing represented the gambler-dreamer deep within them.
One night after the series were aired, when my friends and I were barbecuing at a street stall, we suddenly heard someone shouting on top of a building, “Beijing, I am here to stay!” At that, mixed feelings stirred within me as I recalled my first “home” in Beijing, next to a railway track where rumbling trains kept me awake entire nights until I got used to them and couldn’t sleep without them. Like Shen Bing, I came to Beijing by then carrying a backpack and lived in a “bird’s nest” to begin with. Just like her, I inched closer and closer to my dream and saw how my relentless effort steadily intermingled with the vicissitudes of the city. I’m very thankful for what I’ve been through and all the kindnesses along the way, including those from my family, teachers and mentors, classmates, co-workers, senior performing artists, and even strangers. More importantly, the further I go, the more I feel the strength within me originates from my parents, hometown, and ethnic heritage. I want everyone to know I’m a Xibe and I tell people, in detail, about Xinjiang and who we are as an ethnicity whenever appropriate. Each Xinjianger who has moved out of Xinjiang seems to have a sense of responsibility to tell the world about that land and the people who live on it.
Each year, when I have time, I go back to visit my school teachers and participate in various ethnic events. Within my capacity, I will do whatever I can to meet the needs of my hometown and ethnicity. I wish to provide more and more Xinjiang children with opportunities to pursue and fulfill their dreams. I hope they have opportunities to visit the big cities as I did and imagine how brilliant their future would be.
I come from Xinjiang, a place that always exists in my heart in different ways. It could be a mature apricot in season, a song, a child’s happy face, or a word of care and concern from parents. Just like yours, my hometown is always the warmest and most tender spot in my heart.
(selected from Xinjiang: Beyond Race, Religion, and Place of Origin by Kurbanjan Samat, translated by Wang Chiying, published by New World Press in 2017)
