Spicy. Walking around the ancient city of Kashgar, I constantly bump into the smell of spices every time I turn a corner. Just like the captivating beauty of this ancient city, these smells wafting from a thousand years back to today are still potent enough to pierce through visitors with a single sip or whiff.
It is difficult to write and talk about Xinjiang without mentioning the political implications that dominate headlines both domestically and internationally. In fact, when my friends pressed locals about these topics, they were hesitant to speak freely (and with good reason). There is nothing to be gained from taking a risk and confiding in curious teenage tourists.
When I ask another shopkeeper to have a short interview, he immediately becomes vigilant and turns me away when I try to ask about his daily life. Before I walk away, I see hesitation and caution on his face, not fear.
There is good reason to be wary. Later that day, an old woman at a jade shop told me that religious affairs are strictly controlled by the government and even her tapestry was confiscated because of its Islamic patterns. From the elderly gathered and waiting at the biggest and only mosque still open for prayer, my friend Lucas learned about the re-education camps. The camps are not as terrible as their name implies, though they are mandatory. Extremists, or those considered to be extremists by the government, are forced to learn Chinese, read national newspapers, and memorize Xi’s words. Besides the harsh treatment of religion and extremism, everyday life has changed as well. Police stations are everywhere around Kashgar. The police force here, it is proudly said, can reach every crime scene in the city within 90 seconds. Weapons, even kitchen knives, are also under strict restrictions. A person in Kashgar needs his or her ID card to buy even a kitchen knife and his ID will be forever bound with this knife, in the same way licenses are issued for firearms in the United States. By buying the knife, they also undertake the responsibility of keeping it safe – if another person commits a crime with the same knife, the person who bought the knife is likely to be severely punished as well.
However, under these strict laws, “Kashgar is so safe that thieves have disappeared almost completely.” The tour guide that told me this has lived her whole life in Kashgar. She is Uzbek, an ethnic minority that represents less than one percent of the population here, and she is unequivocally happy with the restrictions and reforms made here. She told me that in the last several decades, there were bombs, riots, and robberies everywhere. This is not simply propaganda; she experienced the unrest firsthand. Political conflicts created chaos, and the locals suffered. Now, due to heavy-handed government supervision, she does not need to worry for her personal security and is comforted by the presence of ubiquitous cameras.
As she was talking, the red light of a camera above her flashes silently, watchfully.
It is hard to reconcile the human rights violations with the clear progress and level of security that has been achieved. Being from an ethnic minority herself, the tour guide’s support of the steps the government has taken forces difficult questions on observers – is it worth giving up freedom for security? Especially when personal safety was not guaranteed by the government in the past and crimes were endemic.
Clearly, this situation is far more complex than is usually presented in the Western media. Even after having travelled there in person, I realise that my 5-day stay does not fully qualify me to speak of how life actually is, for the people of Xinjiang.
I would encourage my readers to conduct further research into this matter, and then to form their own conclusions. And also to be wary of trusting any reports that are not backed up by your own experiences.
For further reading:
https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-china-22278037
https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-china-57386625
https://www.cfr.org/backgrounder/chinas-repression-uyghurs-xinjiang
https://www.cnn.com/2021/10/04/china/xinjiang-detective-torture-intl-hnk-dst/index.html
When I walk outside the city walls, the fragrances of spices disappear. I can no longer smell them a few blocks away. Although these spices are pungent when standing next to them, they quickly fade from my senses though they remain for now in my thoughts. I wonder if that is the reason spice has survived the turmoil of time – yes, it signifies a culture, but diffuses weakly and is easily forgotten.
