(Written by a former resident of Shanghai)
I've just read the five chapters of "The Return of a Young Man" on this blog and learned more about Xinjiang. It's apparently a good place to be, and that's a bit of a surprise for many people from the east coast of China who have always felt that life there is very hard. I've never been there, but knew two people who lived there a long time.
Many young people went to Xinjiang in the late 50's and 60's to help develop the area by working on construction. Most of them were middle or high school students.
Back in 1962, I knew a high school graduate named Nu who had been an excellent student and leader of her class. She had troubles registering for the university entrance examination, however, because one of her kidneys had been removed when she was 8 years old. She was told that she could register for the liberal arts program, but not for science and engineering. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough time to prepare for liberal arts, as she hadn't studied history and geography.
That happened because my principal decided in the fall of 1960 to change the educational program so that two of the senior classes would spend two years finishing three grades. In that process, history and geography were eliminated so she wasn't able to take them. I knew her, as I taught physics and was the lead teacher for her class.
She reviewed history and geography so that she'd be able to register, but didn't learn enough and failed the qualifying exam.
After the summer vacation, the principal decided to train her as a teacher for our school. She very quickly learned how to teach Chinese, but stayed only one semester. She decided to concentrate on studying so that she could take the examination the next year, and I remember that her mother was able to serve good food to her even though the family had little. There had been several natural disasters that year. Her family and the teachers hoped that she'd achieve her goal by passing the test.
We were astonished, therefore, when the time came to apply for the exam and she decided not to take it. She said she was going to Xinjiang. Her parents worried about whether her health would permit her to endure the hardships she would find there. She was only 17 years old, but her mind was made up. Nobody could change it. She left town very quickly. There was no time to even say goodbye when I heard the news.
I had always been solicitous about her welfare, and after her first year there, I got the news that she was a good teacher. She apparently enjoyed her job. I was very proud of her.
A couple of years later, I learned that her principal, who had nourished her abilities as a teacher, was accused of being a capitalist during the Cultural Revolution. That criticism extended to the teacher who was accused of being a "fellow traveler". That must have been a very difficult time for her. It was unbelievable that she'd have such a terrible problem at 20 years of age.
I heard news of her again many years later. She had become a teacher in a university and had been married, had a child.
I saw her in 2004 at a reunion for her class. That was 40 yeairs after she was in high school. She told me a little about the difficulties she had during the troublesome times, but expressed no regrets about having gone to Xinjiang, as she liked it there. Even though she was retired, she was still teaching occasionally in a university. She had moved to a city near Shanghai and lived with her daughter's family. She was happy there taking care of her grandchild.
Many people came back to Shanghai after being sent to Xinjiang during the Cultural Revolution, but I knew a young man in Shanghai who had liked it there and planned to return.
I met him one day in 1981 while walking past a thrift store. He approached me to ask if I'd like to buy his table. I looked at it curiously - wondering if I really needed it. He said that he'd made quite a few pieces of furniture even though he wasn't a carpenter. He'd sold everything he'd brought from Xinjiang and wanted to sell the table so he wouldn't have to ship it back when he returned. I thought it strange that he'd want to back to Xinjiang and asked him why he wanted to do that. He answered with a smile that he regarded Xinjiang as his motherland. That response made me think that he was undoubtedly an honest man so I bought the table for 18 yuan. He delivered it to my house.
The table was very simple and inexpensive, but both my husband and I liked it. We had all our meals on it. We thought about changing it for a new one many times throughout the years, but couldn't find one we liked better so we kept it. I thought that perhaps one day it would be regarded as an antique.
So those are my two experiences with people who loved to live in Xinjiang. Upon reading "The Return of a Young Man" and seeing all of the interesting photographs, I can understand why. I want to thank John for writing his travelog. Xinjiang is one of the very beautiful places in China. I like the looks of it and hope to visit there one day.