China Revisited -- 2013 [#20]

Hakka Village

After the celebration for Edward's father, we returned to the family house in Lehu. Edward's cousin was there to meet us. We had tea and tried to converse. He teaches geography in a junior high school in town. And when Edward's parents are in Shenzhen, he takes care of the top three floors of the building. After several exchanges -- basic questions, short answers -- we focused on our tea.

Late in the afternoon we climbed into Edward's car and followed his cousin, who was weaving in and out of traffic on a scooter. More than once I imagined chase scenes through tight, crowded, decidedly foreign streets as in the Bourne films. He would dash through small spaces between cars and then have to wait for us to make a bigger opening.

He led us to an "old" abandoned Hakka village somewhere at the edge of town, so we were only dodging traffic for maybe 20 minutes. Still, it seemed a world away.  The village compound is near a development of new, essentially middle class homes -- two story boxy structures made of concrete and brick, softened with tile where Americans would use shingles. The new development is still being built; but it is difficult to know how old the Hakka village might be.

My initial impression, based on what we learning in this preserved village, was that the Hakka are a distinct people group within China, one of about 56 people groups that are recognized and "protected" by law. That impression is not correct. They are a branch of the majority Han peoples but have a distinct language and history. Edward describes the Hakka more as a culture than a race.

Not here, but later in our visit, we detected a measure of irritation (resentment?) toward "privileges" that accompany this protected status. It did not seem to be directed at any one in particular, but I felt it was not all that different from feelings one hears in America toward perceived "special treatment." The impression that such protections are unfair or undeserved must be universal.

Whatever an accurate read of these feelings might be, the government clearly has decided that some of  old China -- what we might call China's diversity -- needs to be preserved.  This preservationist model is not consistently applied, however, as we know from the destruction of traditional neighborhoods in Beijing to make way for construction of Olympic venues in preparation for the '08 Games.

While this Hakka village on the outskirts of Lehu is deserted, it remains intact because of this protected status.  We saw no evidence of current habitation and some structures within the walled compound are falling down (below), yet whatever may have already been bulldozed for the nearby development, the village does not now appear to be losing ground. And there are signs that parts of the compound are still used.

The walled compound would have been home to 400-500 people.  People didn't live exactly "on top" of one another, as might be true in modern cities like Hong Kong with its crowded hi-rise apartment buildings, but they did live at close quarters.  Basically, they would have slept indoors and conducted their day-time activities -- cooking, talking, trading, discussing business, and so forth -- in the open areas. This pattern is identical to what we found in the two family villages we had visited earlier in the day.

There are (or were) nine courtyards in this Hakka village, and 18 halls, which were used for worship or meetings.  The structures that served as homes lined the walls of the courtyards.  A literal translation of the Hakka word for these courtyards is "sky well."

Quite apart from the practical logic of this term, which becomes clear when you see the structures, it is such evocative language.

One enters each courtyard by way of tall doors decorated with fierce warriors. We saw these warriors everywhere. They serve to keep out misfortune, bad luck, harm. For this gate, one fierce warrior and one gentle warrior,Yujia, in a Minnie Mouse t-shirt, guard the gateway to the sky well. Inside, beyond the high threshold and across from the gate is one of two halls, this one now barred by a locked iron fence. To the side of the hall entry were "greens" left to dry in the sun.

The hall behind the locked iron gate is an ancestor hall, with its altar, symbolic paintings, incense sticks, signs signifying various prayerful sentiments, and food brought to show respect for the ancestors.  The orange objects on the table in front of the incense stick urns are, in fact, fresh oranges.

All these things -- the dried greens, the oranges and the recent red door frame panels, the cloth hangings and lanterns that are still vividly red -- are evidence of continuing activity in the village.

I poked my camera through the bars and took a long shot of the ancestor hall. Edward's cousin tested the gate for us just to see whether we might gain entrance, but the lock held.

To the right of the door beside the window is a marble plaque noting the special characteristics of the architecture.

I must confess that I had never heard the name Hakka before we arrived, and I had to ask Edward to repeat the name several times before I got it straight. His family is Hakka by ancestry.



Often, of course, I found myself lost in reverie and separated from the group. I strayed to take pictures of things that interested me and things I just wanted to remember.






The gate house we had come through to get into this compound is itself an interesting structure with many interesting features.  When I was with the group, I asked a lot of questions, some of which couldn't be answered or easily translated. 

Outside the courtyard but inside the walls of the compound is a large pond, now stagnant.  I had noted ponds like this in other villages, both those we stopped at and those we drove past.

I surmised that these ponds were for raising fish, which are a staple in this region. It seemed a logical deduction, so I asked even though the ponds themselves do not look like they would sustain fish.

Edward consulted his cousin, who said the ponds traditionally served to put out fires. In the days when construction featured wood, a pond on premise meant that fires could be contained before the entire community went up in flames.

These curiosities are compelling to me, both as part of local history and as achievements in themselves. So many facets of Chinese architecture and ornamentation lend themselves to appreciation; their grace and symmetry alone are astonishing.

Roof lines, like brick walls and wooden doors and handmade brooms, are a favorite subject of mine. Patterns, parallels, repetition -- all warrant a closer look, although too often I felt like I was missing something crucial, the thing that would allow me to "get it."






Both outside and inside the attention to detail that is traditionally labor-intensive and painstaking strikes me often as effortlessly elegant. In addition, none of this artistry is impractical; every detail serves a second, pragmatic function.

As often happened, the group had gathered to go while I was still deep in my investigations. The next time we come . . . I kept thinking, both of this Hakka village and of many places we visited. So much to see, so little time to see it.

Near the car we stood for a photo op with Yujia, Donna, and Edward's mom . . .and a photo farewell to the sole visible inhabitant of the village, who was not interested in us at all.

Then we were off, chasing the scooter through the streets again into the new development to see the cousin's new house.