Yunnan’s Muslims: the Hui Minority in Southwest China

                                                    by Jim Goodman

Najiaying Hui village, Tonghai County

       Of all of China’s 56 minority nationalities, the only one that qualified for such designation by religion alone, rather than language or ethnic identification, is the Hui, who are Muslim, but ethnically Han Chinese.  Some of them are descendants of the first converts from coastal ports visited by Muslim Arab traders in the 7^th and 8^th centuries.  From here they eventually spread further inland, but the main components of what would become a separate Hui identity were Muslim warriors who were part of the Mongol forces that conquered China in the 13^th century, stayed in the country, intermarried with local women and, except for retaining their religion, adopted Chinese customs and lifestyles.

       Yunnan’s Hui today number around 700,000, making them the seventh largest minority nationality in the province.  Some can trace their ancestry back a thousand years or so.  But the presence of Muslims in Yunnan vastly increased with the arrival of Kubilai Khan’s invading armies in 1253.  The Mongol forces that vanquished the Kingdom of Dali and overran all of present-day Yunnan included many brigades of Muslim soldiers from Central Asia, who later were the dominant constituents of the garrisons established at Dali and Weishan.

classic Yunnan-style mosque at Gonglang, Nanjian County

       Kubilai annexed Yunnan to the Mongol Empire and appointed Sayid Ajjal (a.k.a. Saidianchi Zhansiding), a Muslim from Bukhara, as Governor.  Reflecting the Khan’s appreciation of Chinese civilization, Governor Sayid Ajjal ordered the construction of not only mosques, but also Buddhist and Confucian temples in Kunming.  He was also a staunch promoter of Confucian education.  His successors followed the same policies and by the end of the Yuan Dynasty Kunming and other cities had a substantial number of Muslim residents.

       When Ming Dynasty armies rolled into Yunnan to expel the Yuan forces, the Mongol units left, but their Muslim allies mostly dissolved into the local population.  Largely SInicized by then, the Hui became a permanent part of Yunnan’s population.  One of their number, Zheng He from Jinning, rose to become the commander of several naval expeditions in the early 15^th century that sailed as far as the African coast.

Hui elder, Yao'an County

Hui girls in Dacang, Weishan County

       Throughout the Ming and most of the Qing Dynasty the Hui were a fully integrated part of Yunnan society.  In places where they were numerous, such as around Dali and Weishan, Xundian and Tonghai, they ere farmers like all of their neighbors.  In the cities they were involved in commerce, ran shops and organized long-distance caravans.  With the 19^th century industrial development of the province, they also became involved in mining.  But it was a mining dispute in Shiyang, in Chuxiong Prefecture, that sparked disaster for the Hui people in Yunnan.

Hui village on the Dali plain

       Both Han and Hui operated silver mines in Shiyang, but the Han mines were running out of deposits.  When the Hui refused to give the Han employment in their own mines, the Han attacked them, but were driven back to Kunming.  Mandarins in the city pacified the Hui there with promises, but meanwhile a coterie plotted to exterminate the Muslims in Yunnan. 

       Massacres commenced throughout the northern half of the province on 19 May 1858.  Strong Hui communities around Huilong in the east and Dali in the west organized armed resistance and thus the province plunged into the turbulent years of the so-called Muslim Revolt, or Panthay Rebellion, after another name for Yunnan’s Hui.  “Muslim Revolt” is somewhat misleading, however, for after a two-year stalemate in the east, Hui leaders made a deal with the Yunnan government and were given command of a mixed Han-Hui army charged with putting down the rebellion in the west, where the Hui had the support of the Bai, Yi and other minorities.

Du Wenxiu's palace, now the Dali City Museum

      At the outbreak of the massacres the Hui around Dali, where they were one third of the population, held off Han attackers trying to reach the city in a seesaw battle that changed dramatically with the arrival of Hui reinforcements led by Du Wenxiu.  After routing the Han forces, Du Wenxiu occupied Dali, declared it the capital of a new state—the Peaceful Southern Kingdom (Ping Nan Guo)—and installed himself as ruler with the name of Sultan Suleiman.  He set up an efficient administration, promoted commerce, won the support of most ethnic minorities in the west and southwest and repulsed two attacks by government armies.

students at Najiaying's Islamic Studies Center

       The new state consolidated control over western Yunnan while the Qing government was still preoccupied suppressing the much more devastating Taiping Rebellion in southeast China.  That was accomplished in 1864, but another revolt broke out among the minorities in northeast Yunnan.  Only in 1867 was the provincial government ready to dispatch a large Han-Hui army against Dali.  But it suffered a crushing defeat.  Du’s army pursued the remnants all the way to the walls of Kunming and settled in for a siege.

       This was the high-water mark of the Revolt.  But Du’s forces could neither breach Kunming’s walls nor completely blockade roads to the city.  After several months of trying, Du Wenxiu withdrew his forces back to Dali.  The following year the Qing government started subsidizing arms purchases for a new provincial army.  Under General Yang Yuke the freshly strengthened force captured Ning’er and its salt mines, depriving Dali of its principal source of revenue.

       From Ning’er the Qing army began its slow but relentless drive north to Dali, finally reaching the city gates before the end of 1872.  Du Wenxiu surrendered the following January and committed suicide.  The victors decapitated the corpse, which was buried in Du’s nearby home village of Xiadui, mounted the head on the ramparts and spent another year mopping up the last of the resistance.  

Yunnan-style mosque at Dabaiyi, Eshan County

       Following this, the Qing troops embarked on a horrific revenge campaign, slaughtering any Muslims they could capture.  Thousands fled to northern Burma and northern Thailand, where they eventually got into the caravan trade for the next century and became known as the Jin Haw.  At the Dieshuihe waterfall in Tengchong, a powerful cataract of the Daying River, Qing soldiers hurled hundreds of local Muslims over the precipice to their deaths.  In Dali the Hui were forbidden to live in the city and pursued throughout the plain.  As many as could fled and the government confiscated their lands and parceled them out to the Bai. 

       Government revenge did not extend to the minority populations that had supported Du Wenxiu.  Around Dali the Bai people helped hide their Hui neighbors.  Other Hui adopted the Bai language for everyday use and concealed evidence of their Islamic identity.  Once the heat was off they could be more open about their religious affiliation, but often retained use of the Bai language.  And when the Hui returned after it was safe to do so, the Bai who had benefitted from the land confiscation returned that land to the Hui and helped them rebuild their homes and mosques.

the mosque and Hui quarter in Yangbi

       Famine followed the end of the rebellion, as well as a total breakdown in commerce that lasted for several years.  Twenty years after the outbreak of hostilities Yunnan’s population had declined from 8 million to 3 million.  The province recovered, as did the Hui, resuming their customary roles in Yunnan, taking up their familiar trades, tending their farms and getting back into long-distance commerce by caravan.   A century later Islam and the Hui identity came under attack during the Cultural Revolution, but so did the traditions of everybody else (including the Han).  Mosques were closed or turned over to other uses, but mosques, churches, temples and monasteries across the entire country suffered the same fate.

       With the launch of the Reform Era, Hui culture experienced the same ethnic revivalism that swept Yunnan in the 80s and 90s.  Mosques reopened, drew large crowds for Friday services and imams ran new Islamic Studies Centers and taught Arabic.  The Hui also established links with overseas Muslims, especially in the Middle East, who often sponsored the construction of new mosques, in the Arabian style.

new mosque in Wenming, Eshan County

       Externally, the original Yunnan mosques resembled Buddhist temples in shape and design.  The crescent moon mounted in the center on the top of the roof was one obvious difference, as was the lack of any depiction of humans or animals in the carved embellishments.  Interiors were simple, with a niche in one wall identifying the direction to Mecca.  Many mosques in the indigenous style are still in use in Hui towns and villages throughout the province.  Some are larger, more complex and impressive compounds, sited on hills above the town, such as at Yangbi, south of Dali, and Gonglang, in Nanjian County.

       Other Hui communities have replaced their antique mosques with new ones in Middle East style, featuring gleaming white walls, green or blue onion-shaped domes, towering minarets and capacious interiors, altogether more imposing than the simple structures they replaced.  They are bigger and taller than the originals, like the splendid, three-story mosque at Wenming village, in Eshan County, and the new ones in the heart of Kunming.  They range in style from the grand exuberance of Wenming to the classic proportions of Najiaying to the austere modernism of Yanshan.  And they represent the resurgence of Hui pride.

       Sizable Hui communities live in the northern, eastern and western parts of the province.  Xundian, north of Kunming, and Weishan, in Dali Prefecture, are Hui and Yi Autonomous Counties and every city in Yunnan has a Hui neighborhood.  Kunming has a rather large one, mostly in the area between Jinbilu and Dongfengxilu.  When Yunnan opened its doors to foreigners this became part of the tourist itinerary, less for its classic mosques than for the sight of huge slabs of beef hanging from racks all along Shunchenglu and the Hui restaurants here and in the popular Bird Market nearby. 

young imam reading prayers at a village mosque near Yao'an

       Some Hui-inhabited places qualify as tourist attractions just because of their beautiful settings.  Najiaying, with a new mosque dominating the northern end of the village and an old one in the southern market area, lies beside Qilu Lake in Tonghai County.  Wulichou, on the lower slopes of Cangshan with a good view of Erhai Lake, straddles a stream coming down from the mountains near Dali.  The Hui quarter of Yangbi, the only part of the old city still extant, lies along a road below the classic mosque that leads to an historic bridge on the Tea and Horses Road, a famous caravan route from Pu’er to Tibet.   

       The caravans across Yunnan have disappeared, but the Hui in that business graduated into the modern transportation system.  Urban Hui make up a large proportion of the city taxi drivers and the ones who drive the inter-city buses, vans and trucks.  They kind of announce their identity by posting a decal in the corner of the windshield of a verse from the Koran in Arabic script.  

       Other urban Hui find employment in government service of one kind or another, petty trade and, especially, the restaurant business.  Han Chinese generally like to eat pork, but they also appreciate a good meal of beef now and then and first choice is always a Hui restaurant.  They order a thick beef broth, beef stir-fried with onions, thin slices of roast beef served cold and spiced with chili sauce, a few other special beef dishes and maybe augment the meal with mutton or chicken.

modern mosque in Yanshan, Wenshan Prefecture

       Perhaps the enduring popularity of Hui restaurants, plus the Hui role in transportation, helps maintain the community’s image of a normal, fully integrated part of Yunnan’s socio-economic society.  Hui leaders in China have been at pains to affirm their loyalty to the state and disassociate themselves from any covert sympathy with co-religionists espousing separatism or extremism. 

       Actually, the Hui in Yunnan are certainly devout, but not at all fundamentalist, radical or even very strict.  The women may wear headscarves, but do not dress in the burka associated with extremely conservative Muslims.  The men don the white skullcap for Friday prayers, but may not wear it other days.  Theirs is not an exclusive society wary of outsiders.  As a non-Muslim foreigner, in my own encounters with the Hui, explaining my visit as a desire to learn about one of Yunnan’s minorities, I was always warmly welcomed, invited to observe the Friday prayers, encouraged to photograph and never pressed to join the services.

       It was the same experience I had calling on other minorities.  The Buddhists never insisted I bow before any image.  The Christians didn’t ask me to join in the hymns.  The animists never requested I leave an offering at a spirit altar.  Everyone was pleased just because I was interested in them, and told or showed me everything I wanted to know.  The Hui were no different, just another friendly minority in the ethnic mélange of Yunnan, where harmony and mutual respect are the old and new normal.

Hui children in a Yao'an Cuunty village mosque 

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Up the Sword Ladder

                                                                  by Jim Goodman
     

Hua Lisu woman, Tengchong County

       Imagine that you're a young Hua Lisu man in western Yunnan in the isolated mountains of Tengchong, Lianghe and Yingjiang Counties, who wants to powerfully impress a certain eligible young Lisu lady.  Like her mother and sisters she is a very old-fashioned Lisu and prefers the colorful traditional costume of a long-tailed blue jacket, with extra flaps around the shoulders and trimmings in red, yellow, white and green.  (The eye-catching jacket alone justifies their name, for Hua Lisu means Flowery Lisu in Chinese.)  This she wears over trousers that fall just past the knees and bright puttees wrapped in lacquered black rattan rings.  She looks especially charming when she puts on her collar-ring with silver pendants dangling from it down her chest, and dons the round turban embellished with white discs cut from shells.  She is certainly worth impressing and in traditional Hua Lisu culture there's a sure way for you to gain prestige, in her eyes and in the eyes of your rivals, a way to win a reputation as one of the boldest, most outstanding young men in the village--up the sword ladder.

Hua Lisu man

       Or picture yourself as an older, middle-aged man, raising a family, with teenaged children inclined to challenge your authority on the broader issues of life.  You need to enhance your prestige so they will heed your guidelines on proper Lisu behavior.  You also must participate in discussions with other household heads over issues like contracts with the logging companies, how much of the forest to cut, where to graze the animals and so on.  You would like to add more weight to your opinion, to have it listened to with greater respect.  To elevate your prestige so to achieve this, as well as to enhance your authority at home, the route is the same one taken by the aspiring lover--up the sword ladder.

       The opportunity for this takes place once a year, the 8th day of the 2nd lunar month.  On this day the Hua Lisu erect a tall ladder, with as many as 60 or 70 machetes for the rungs, sharp side up.  The ladder must be scaled barefoot and bare-handed and the entire effort can be totally wasted if the climber suffers so much as a single small cut on the soles of his feet.  It's an imposing task and would be difficult even with gloves and boots, certainly for anyone afflicted with a more than normal amount of acrophobia.

the ascent

action on the Sword Ladder

       No one is compelled to climb.  No draftees from selected families.  No casting lots to determine who goes up.  It's entirely voluntary.  And because it's a fairly dangerous thing to do only the most eager, or most inveterate, status-seekers make the try.  About a dozen men on average attempt the climb in any given year.  Half of them will be old enough to be the fathers of the other half.

       The Sword Ladder Festival dates back to the time the Lisu migrated to western Yunnan from their original homeland near the banks of the Jinshajiang (Upper Yangzi) in southwest Sichuan.  Midway through the Ming Dynasty, in the early 16th century, they began moving to the Nujiang Valley (Upper Salween) and the western hills of present-day Baoshan and Dehong Prefectures.  Some continued into Burma and today the same sub-groups live on both sides of the border.

going up and going down

safety mudrss by the emcee

       The Ming Dynasty only took full control of Yunnan at the end of the 14th century.  The western frontier remained a security problem all through the following century and in the early 16th century the Ming minister Wang Ji arrived intending to pacify the area.  The newly-arrived Lisu at that time were subject to regular harassment by bandit incursions and many of their men joined Wang Ji's forces.
       Wang Ji himself was a charismatic, fearless leader with great appeal to the Lisu.  He led the campaigns personally and in the end laid down his life in defense of the frontier and the Lisu who lived on the Chinese side of it.  Among his troops he had the reputation of being able to walk through fire and climb a ladder of swords in his bare feet.  While this is a Chinese metaphor for exceptional bravery, the Hua Lisu took it literally.  On the day of his death, the 8th day of the 2nd moon, they emulate Wang Ji by walking across hot coals the night before and climbing the sword ladder that day.

picnic at the festival grounds

       As night falls on the day prior villagers set fires at the edge of the settled area.  When the fires have burned down to a layer of glowing coals the boldest of the village men dash barefoot across the "sea of fire," as they call it.  Like the climbing exercise the next day, the soles of their feet must emerge from the ordeal unscorched and unblemished.  And they do.
       Unlike some other mountain people in the region, the Lisu do not ordinarily go barefoot.  So the men's ability to run across the coals and climb the sword ladder does not come from a build-up of thick calluses on the soles of their feet, which are every bit as tender as a city dweller's.

Hua Lisu elder

       The swords are not razor sharp, but honed enough to cut bamboo and sugar cane and swords that are obviously dull or nicked are rejected as rungs for the ladder.  The inexplicability of this feat, repeated annually since Wang Ji's death three centuries ago, has even helped preserve Hua Lisu traditions in general, for it was the reason why the Christian missionaries gave up their conversion campaign.

       It began in the 1920's when the Frasers, husband and wife, entered Tengchong County from Burma and headed for Hua Lisu settlements in the hills northwest of the county seat.  They happened to arrive the same week as the festival.  Mrs. Fraser, who later authored the memoir of their missionary work, was sure there was some kind of trick involved in the "sea of fire" exercise and poo-poohed the accomplishment of those few who did it.  It was dark, after all.
       Yet they could not figure out the sword ladder climbing, which they witnessed close-up in broad daylight.  The only explanation they could divine was the power of the Devil, coming to the aid of these pagan climbers.  So, because the Devil's influence was so strong among this branch of the Lisu, as Mrs. Fraser wrote, the missionaries left Tengchong and moved north to proselytize among the Black Lisu of Nujiang.  Today the Black Lisu are largely Christian, while the Hua Lisu to this day have resisted conversion and remain the largest sub-group of non-Christian Lisu.
       The Hua Lisu way of life has not remained static since their migration to western Yunnan.  They evolved from a mainly hunting and gathering society to one of agriculture and animal husbandry by the time of their encounter with the Frasers.  Since then the Hua Lisu have largely abandoned slash-and-burn in favor of fixed field farming and were until this century involved in the logging business.

stepping on the swords

at the top

       Yet the Sword Ladder Festival has endured with no major modifications since its beginning.  It remains the highlight of the Lisu year, combined with a carnival in the adjacent field, where Lisu villagers amuse themselves at various stalls until the actual climbing commences.  Some of the stalls offer small market items, others noodles and drinks and still others the dice game popular in western Yunnan.

dice game at the festival

       In this one three large dice are mounted on a bar at the top of a slightly slanted tray.  When the game master yanks the cord to pull away the bar the three dice tumble into the lower tray lying flat just below.  At the far end of this tray people place their bets.  Usually the dice fall together, but sometimes they drop one by one.  When two have landed a player may anticipate being a winner, only to see the third one finally fall and knock over one of the other two, thus changing the final configuration.

       Around noon is the erection of the ladder.  Long lines of men pull the ropes attached to the ladder's top and hoist it upright.  After the ropes have been secured to stakes three men begin fixing the swords in place, from the bottom up.  As they get higher up the swords are delivered by pulley rope.  This operation takes over an hour, followed by a break of around two hours to wait for the auspicious moment to begin climbing.  Meanwhile, those in attendance hold picnics, play the dice game and wander about the carnival grounds.

examining the feet after the climb

       On this day the women don their best costumes and all their beads and jewelry.  But Lisu men for the most part also dress in the traditional style, one of the few minorities in which the men do so.  They wear a long-sleeved, side-fastened jacket, usually blue, a wide belt, knee-length trousers and striped leggings.  On special occasions like this they will also don a turban, embroidered shoulder bags and a bandoleer or two of silver dollar-sized discs cut from shells.  Those going up the ladder are the most resplendent.

       Without fanfare or announcement the start of the climbing is signaled by a man placing a bundle of burning incense sticks at each of the stakes holding the ropes attached to the ladder.  Then an older man removes his shoes and commences his steady climb to the platform full of pennants at the top.  He removes a few of these, hurls them to the ground and sets off several strings of firecrackers.  Then as he descends another begins to climb.  About halfway up the ladder is a narrow platform.  The one ascending halts here until the previous climber has passed him on the way down.

       When the descending climber reaches the last rung he steps onto short bamboo poles and lifts his feet for inspection by the emcee.  Observing that no cuts or blood mar the soles of the feet, the emcee rubs them with ashes and gives the performer a small cup of liquor.  No one applauds the success, lest that distract the others on the ladder.  While awaiting the next to descend the emcee, gazing intently at the climbers, makes magical gestures to insure no mishap occurs.

festival dance

       After all this year's climbers have completed their turns, a loudspeaker begins broadcasting traditional Lisu songs.  The climbers and their wives then join hands for a ring dance around the base of the ladder, with alcohol served them as refreshment partway through the performance.
       This is the last act of the festival.  The ring breaks up and the crowd heads for home.  The ladder remains standing until the following day, when the men gather to take it down, remove the swords, disassemble the components, and put them away until next year.  And already those who considered it, but failed to muster sufficient courage to climb this year, have witnessed the new esteem bestowed on the climbers by their admirers.  And already they have begun telling themselves that if their neighbors or rivals can succeed without any problems, why then next year they, too, will have what it takes for that tried and true way to social prominence--up the sword ladder.

the last act--dancing around the Sword Pole

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