The People Who Build Xinjiang

　　Eighty-one-year-old Shi Huifang could never forget her life-changing decision to venture out into Xinjiang, a remote and bare land to her in northwest China, some six decades ago. She wanted to escape poverty and create a better life for herself by putting in hard work in a new place.?

　　At the same time, this was also a good chance for her to step away from a relationship with a young man who she was not fully committed to. "His shanty with thatched roofs did hold me back," Shi said, half?jokingly.?

　　However, she didn't expect her boyfriend to find out about her decision and give up his job as a hydraulic engineer in Jiangsu, a province in east China, only to follow her to Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region, some 4,000 km away.

　　Shi's father, secretly hoping that someone could and would take care of his daughter in the totally?unknown place, gave a nod to their marriage. Shortly after their wedding, they set off on their journey to Xinjiang in July 1959, when she was 19 and her husband was 24.?

　　Together with another 83 people from the same village, they spent about two weeks on a train traveling to a small town in Changji Hui Autonomous Prefecture, 40 km away from the city of Urumqi, the regional capital.

　　At that time, Xinjiang locals were mainly Uygurs and Kazaks, as well as Han migrants from neighboring Gansu Province who had been living in Xinjiang for generations.

　　Recalling her early days in Xinjiang, Shi said, "We worked all day long and built almost everything from scratch." She participated in the construction of canals as well as farming. She got the chance to attend medical training and almost became a teacher before giving birth to her first child in 1962, and then became a house wife.

　　Although Shi rarely shared these memories with her children, the conversation came into a natural flow when her granddaughter became curious about her own roots.

　　I am that granddaughter.

　　The new frontier?

　　My grandma gets excited whenever she flashes back to her younger years, a time full of youthful vigor, adventurous spirit as well as memories of hard work and struggles.

　　She was among the first batch of the people moving from Jiangsu to Xinjiang as a campaign to develop the country's border land started in the 1950s, when China was suffering bouts of famine. The country made a decision in 1956 to further reclaim wasteland, when 46,000 people from Henan Province in central China made their way to Xinjiang. Most of China's wasteland lied in border areas, including Xinjiang.

　　In order to further help Xinjiang catch up with other inland cities, the Central Government decided to encourage more people from densely populated areas to reclaim wasteland there. From 1959 to 1960, over 120,000 young adults moved to Xinjiang from Jiangsu. They were farmers, technicians and teachers, among whom the members of the Communist Party of China (CPC) and the Communist Youth League accounted for 6 percent and 20 percent, respectively.

　　My grandparents were members of the Communist Youth League, and my grandfather joined the Party the year following their arrival. He poured all his effort into local water projects in Xinjiang. All his life, no matter how hard things got, he never uttered a single complaint. In my memory, he would never miss the prime time news broadcast, the main channel for him to understand the overall development across the country.

　　In Changji, 40 percent of the reclaimed wasteland was brought under cultivation by those new settlers, who also developed 80 percent of water projects. Around 75 percent of them eventually opted to stay and contribute to the development of the region for a lifetime.

　　Impressions can be deceptive?

　　I lived in Xinjiang up to the age of 17 when I left to pursue my university education in Beijing. I never thought too much about how others see life in Xinjiang.

　　However, as more and more international attention zoomed in on my hometown, the biases harbored by some people struck me hard. The terms that several Western journalists used to report on Xinjiang, such as "forced labor," tight security checks, and "cultural genocide" sound so foreign to me. Has the Xinjiang where I grew up really changed? With this question in mind, I traveled back to Xinjiang frequently in the past three years, exploring the region from south to north and from countryside to city.

　　On the whole, the region features more security checks than before; true, and indeed inconvenient. Police check every single passenger's ID. All luggage must go through a scanner… The level of a routine security check in many places is almost as tight as that at the airport. Local people, including myself, have complained about it. But we value safety much more than convenience.

　　Security levels gradually grew tighter since the terrorist incident on July 5, 2009, when I was a university student in Beijing. The incident caused 197 deaths and injured over 1,700, as well as caused a lot of property damage, according to official data.

　　From 1990 to the end of 2016, thousands of terrorist attacks in Xinjiang killed a large number of innocent people and hundreds of police officers according to a 2019 white paper entitled The Fight Against Terrorism and Extremism and Human Rights Protection in Xinjiang. Behind the brutal and frightful aggression loomed the radicalized religious penetration launched by separatists.

　　"Villagers were forbidden to sing and dance during weddings by some radicalized religious people until some five years ago," Mahmut Saidil, a former village head in Aksu Prefecture in south Xinjiang, told me. "Life necessities such as a tea pot, soap or basic communication tools were tagged as non-Halal and villagers were instructed not to use them."

　　I wish human right fighters could have stood up for those villagers at the time, battling extremists together with all other Chinese people, regardless of ethnicity and religion.

　　"More Xinjiang voices should be heard. Not just some fabricated fragments," Mahmut added.

　　For a better life?

　　In Xinjiang, as in other places, people aspire to live a better life. Mehrigul Aysa, a 26-year-old resident of Hotan, a prefecture in Xinjiang, would like an opportunity to work but she has to take care of her children at home. Local governments have introduced more industries into the area so that people can find?employment close to home, particularly for women.?

　　Mehrigul found a job at a local textile company in Hotan in 2019. When her husband received further education at a vocational training school, she decided to start learning about selling cosmetics via online classes. She soon was promoted from spinner to warehouse manager after getting on-the-job computer training.

　　When I met Mehrigul, dressed in a formal outfit, I couldn't tell that she used to be a housewife. "I knew nothing but housework in the past," she said, adding that she'd learned about fashion and parenting methods after work.

　　"When we visited their houses and talked to them, most women would be shy and not even look us in the eye when talking to us," said Nurgul, a staff member with the women's federation in Hotan Prefecture. She talked about the changes in the women's lives after they started working outside the home.

　　"But as they now leave their homes to go out to work and interact with more people, they are becoming more outgoing. At their workplaces, they learn about new lifestyles from their colleagues who come from other places."

　　Previously, when a married woman wanted to buy new clothes, she had to ask her husband to buy them for her. Today, she can pay her own way and can buy them herself, Nurgul continued.

　　Modern industries?

　　Tursunhan Tursunnyaz, a Hotan farmer, became a full-time employee at a dairy company in 2020. She also acquired several cows from her company using a government subsidy.

　　The company has offered breeding technology to those villagers raising cows. The local government invested some 75 million yuan ($11 million) to buy cows for 3,766 households in her county living under the national poverty line that year.

　　"My husband had a donkey cart when I married him 15 years ago," she said. "I support myself now. I can go shopping in the city and enjoy hotpot there," the 35 year-old said. Tursunhan got her driver's license and her family was planning to buy a car.

　　However, these women wouldn't know they were being regarded as "forced laborers" in the eyes of those with no context of life in Xinjiang.

　　The textile industry was reported as the main industry to employ "forced labor" to pick cotton or work in the factories. Fact is that the mechanization of cotton-picking started as early as 2001 in Xinjiang, and became universal in 2009.

　　Fang Xu has worked as a sales support person for cotton-picking machinery for more than 10 years. He is now a sales support manager for the cotton-picking machine division of Urumqi-based China Railway Construction Heavy Industrial Corp. (CRCHI) Xinjiang Co. Ltd.

　　He serves clients from cooperatives or private rental services across the region. CRCHI's cotton-picking machinery entered the region in 2019. Before that, imported machines dominated the market.

　　"About 90 percent of the cotton-picking machines were imported before," Fang said. "But domestic brands have boomed in recent years. The market has huge potential and is growing fast."

　　"Farmers were reluctant to use machines in the beginning," Mahmut elaborated. His hometown of Aksu is the major production base of long-staple cotton. "Cotton-picking machines have been used here for more than a decade and the technology is updating year after year," he said. Meanwhile, drones are being used to spray pesticides across fields.

　　The main advantage of domestically produced machines, according to Fang, is the 24/7 sales support made possible through the remote monitoring equipment in the machine that can be checked on a mobile phone in real time.

　　The more information I got from my contacts in Xinjiang, the more respect I wanted to show my grandparents who paved the way for today's Xinjiang. I also realized just how an individual's perspectives can be limited by the lack of first-hand information. I welcome more people to Xinjiang to learn more about this place of beauty and?diversity.?

　　中文譯稿：

　　致敬默默無聞的新疆建設者

　　——從外祖母的故事說起

　　81歲的施惠芳到現在依然忘不了62年前做出的決定——奔赴對她來說遙遠而又廣袤的新疆。她想通過自己的努力，在一個全新的環境過上更好的生活，不再貧窮。

　　同時去新疆對她來說也不失為一個好辦法，那就是她可以擺脫和男友糾結未定的關系并從中脫身，“他家的茅草屋頂當時真的讓我沒有安全感?！笔┗莘及腴_玩笑地說道。

　　讓她沒想到的是，身在江蘇水利工程師崗位的男友在知道自己的女友要舍他而去新疆的消息后，毅然放棄了工作，決定追隨女友一同去往4000公里外那個一切都是未知的地方。

　　施惠芳的父親，內心殷切希望有人能在那陌生而遙遠的地方陪伴照料自己的女兒，就同意了他倆的婚事。在婚禮剛剛結束不久，1959年7月的一天，他們踏上了赴疆的旅途。那一年，施惠芳19歲，愛人朱?？?4歲。

　　如今施惠芳已經四世同堂，在新疆安享晚年。晚輩們平時很少聽到施惠芳主動回憶過去，可當外孫女好奇祖輩來新疆的過往時，對話自然而然地展開了，施惠芳打開了話匣子講起了她的故事。

　　我，就是那個萌生尋根意念，好奇的外孫女。

　　新來的開墾者：支疆青年

　　說起年輕的時候，外祖母變得十分興奮，“那時候雖然很苦，但有使不完的勁，天不怕地不怕。”外祖母說。

　　外祖母這對新婚夫妻和同村另外83人，坐火車，轉卡車，再轉驢車，從沿海的江蘇一路向西顛簸了兩個星期終于抵達了新疆昌吉回族自治州。外祖母記得，進入新疆地界后一路上她看到許多維吾爾族、哈薩克族同胞，也有一些從甘肅過去的漢族人，聽說他們在新疆已經生活了好幾代。

　　回想剛到新疆的日子，外祖母說，他們一切都要從零干起。沒有吃的，自己種；沒有住的，就搭地窩子——一種在地上挖坑，頂部用樹枝和泥土覆蓋建的房子。

　　年輕時，她做過婦女隊長，幫著村里協調過不少糾紛，這都是她引以為傲的成績。她向維吾爾族鄰居學習飼養牛羊，也跟他們學做羊肉抓飯。從不吃辣的南方人，在新疆學會了吃紅辣椒。

　　上世紀五六十年代，全國各地許多熱血青年來到新疆這片廣袤的土地。與外祖母他們一起從江蘇到新疆的支邊青年，同行的有農民、技術員和老師等各種職業人員，其中，共產黨員和共青團員占到總人數的6%和20%。

　　外祖父母當時都是共青團員，外祖父一到新疆很快就入黨了，并仍然從事了自己的專業工作，全心投入到水利項目中，一輩子勤懇工作，忠于自己的使命，從未有過半句怨言。

　　據相關資料顯示，1959年至1960年，昌吉州40%的荒地是這些支邊青年開墾的，80%的水利工程是他們修建的。75%的支邊青年最終選擇留在了新疆，為這個地區的發展奉獻一生。正如那句話所說：獻了青春獻終身。

　　被誤導的新疆印象

　　作為“疆三代”，我在17歲時離開家鄉到北京上大學，后來因工作出差或者個人旅游，到過全國許多城市。在我看來，新疆的城市和中國其他城市除了建筑風格及人文特色外，其他并沒有太多不同，這些特色和瑰麗的風景賦予了我的家鄉“美麗新疆”的稱號。

　　但近年來，新疆突然成為西方媒體炒作的話題，他們對新疆所抱有的偏見令我深感震驚。一些西方記者在報道新疆時常用的“強迫勞動”“文化滅絕”這些詞，讓我覺得無比陌生。難道養育我的新疆變了？帶著疑問，在過去三年我頻繁回疆，走遍天山南北，城鎮村落，想一探究竟。

　　新疆確實有一些變化，最直觀的是火車站、汽車站、高速公路收費站等交通要點的安全檢查是比我小時候嚴格不少，安檢人員會檢查每位乘客的身份證，所有的行李都要經過掃描等。這里的日常安檢甚至跟一些地方的機場安檢享有同樣規格。當地人對此也難免有些抱怨，包括我。

　　但當我了解到如此嚴格的安檢是從2009年的“7·5”暴恐事件而開始的，就釋然了，相比生活便利，我們當然更重視生命安全。

　　“7·5”事件發生時，我已經到北京讀書了。據官方數據，在這次暴恐事件中，197人喪生，1700人受傷，同時造成了大量的財產損失。

　　而據《新疆的反恐、去極端化和人權保障》白皮書的統計，從1990年到2016年，新疆發生過幾千起大大小小的暴恐事件，無辜生命逝去，公職人員殉職，背后是分裂分子殘忍可怕的宗教極端主義滲透。

　　在2021年的一次采訪中，阿克蘇地區的維吾爾族村干部馬合買提·賽迪爾談起村里過去的壓抑氣氛時依然感到陰影重重?！皹O端宗教人士不允許村民們在婚禮上唱歌跳舞，葬禮上也不許親人哭訴?！彼麑ξ艺f。

　　眾所周知，新疆人從來都有“會走路就會跳舞，會說話就會唱歌”的美譽，這種極端做法無疑是反人性的。

　　“像茶壺、肥皂這種生活必需品都得清真，一些有極端思想的人經常散播交通工具不清真的說法，也不許村民乘坐。”馬合買提說。

　　三年時間里，我沒有看到新疆“強迫勞動”“文化滅絕”的事情或證據，我看到的是在嚴厲打擊恐怖分子后出現的穩定繁榮的新疆，看到的是大巴扎熙熙攘攘的人流，是公園廣場飄動的艷麗的舞裙，看到的是外祖母快樂的生活。外祖父過世前有個雷打不動的愛好，那就是每晚7點準時守在電視機前看《新聞聯播》，因為這是了解國家政策的窗口。

　　“應該讓他們（西方記者）多聽聽新疆人的聲音，而不是那些編造的謊言?！瘪R合買提說。

　　而我現在很想知道的是，對比現在一些西方國家高唱的“人權至上”的口號，當人們被極端思想裹挾的時候，這些所謂的“人權斗士”去哪兒了呢？

　　為了生活得更好

　　在新疆，和世界上任何地方一樣，人們也向往著過上更好的生活。身處和田的26歲的美合日古麗·艾薩也曾面臨東西方已婚女性都會遇到的兩難境地，工作和家庭，如何平衡？她想要一個工作機會，但還要照顧好兩個孩子。

　　當地政府考慮到老百姓素有安土重遷的情結，引進了不少產業給當地居民尤其是當地婦女就業。2019年，美合日古麗在一家招商引資的紡織公司找到一個崗位。丈夫去教育培訓中心學習，她在工作的同時還通過網絡自學銷售課程。因為她漢語好，還會用電腦，勤奮好學的她，很快被公司從擋車工提拔為庫管。

　　教育培訓中心，這個被西方媒體報道為“集中營”的地方，不僅教給她丈夫常用的法律知識，更教會他了工作技能，有一技之長更容易找到工作。

　　我們第一次見到美合日古麗的時侯，她身著灰色職業套裙，看起來沒有一點全職主婦的痕跡。“我以前除了家務，什么都不知道。每天的生活就是，天亮了，天黑了?！彼龑ξ艺f。工作以后，才慢慢接觸到時尚，“當孩子告訴我說媽媽你越來越漂亮了，那一刻我由衷地感到開心。”

　　美合日古麗現在最大的愿望就是希望孩子們好好學習，不管學到什么程度，她都會努力供養孩子完成學業?！昂⒆觽兡堋畬W’到哪兒，我就能讓他們‘學’到哪兒?！?/p>

　　吐爾遜汗·圖爾遜尼亞孜是和田一個地道的農民，2020年她成為一家當地牛奶企業的全職雇員。享受政府補貼后，她還養殖了幾頭奶牛。

　　同年，當地政府投資7500萬元為全縣3766戶貧困家庭購買奶牛，作為配套，牛奶公司免費為奶牛養殖戶教授養殖技術。

　　“15年前，我嫁過來的時候，我丈夫只有一個驢車?！蓖聽栠d汗說。最近，她考取了駕照，家里今年計劃購置一輛小轎車。“現在，我可以自給自足，有時間就去和田市吃頓火鍋?！?/p>

　　和田婦聯主任努爾古麗是當地女性遇到問題或困難時的傾訴對象，主婦們可以輕易找到婦聯的電話，有情緒的時候就會找努爾古麗訴說?！拔覀円郧叭ゴ迕窦依锇菰L的時侯，女人們都很害羞，聊天的時侯都不用眼睛看我?！迸瑺柟披愓f，這些年，越來越多的女性開始走出家門，進入職場，每個人的變化都清晰可見，“過去，已婚女性想買衣服都得讓丈夫給她們買?，F在，她們可以自己掙錢自己花。她們也越來越開朗了，在工作的同時也在學習各個地方不同的生活方式。”

　　工業化大生產的新疆采棉業

　　然而，這些勤奮努力的女性可能不知道，她們中可能有很多人已被一些根本不了解新疆的人描述成“被強迫勞動者”。這其中，特別是在棉花種植加工企業中工作的女性被誣蔑成“雇用的強迫勞動力”，在棉田“強迫”采摘棉花或在工廠“強迫”工作。

　　事實是，新疆早在2001年就已經啟動機采棉，2009年機采棉已實現廣泛推廣。方旭，作為鐵建重工新疆有限公司采棉機銷售經理已工作了十多年。他所在的部門主要服務于采棉機租賃，其客戶主要為農村合作社或者私營企業。鐵建重工的采棉機是從2019年開始進軍新疆市場的，在此之前，主要是進口采棉機主導當地市場。

　　“以前，90%的采棉機都是進口的。但是這幾年國產品牌發展很快。市場潛力大，而且增速快?！狈叫裾f。國產采棉機主要的優勢是全年無休的售后支持，在機器上安裝遠程監控裝置，用一臺手機就能實時監控采棉機狀態了。

　　馬合買提說，他所在的阿克蘇地區是新疆長絨棉的主產地?！皠傞_始農民們并不情愿使用采棉機。但現在機械化生產已經推廣了十多年，技術也在每年不斷更新?！辈粌H機采棉在當地普及，現在無人機噴灑農藥也得到了廣泛使用。

　　在新疆，我到的地方越多，獲得信息越多，就越對支援新疆建設的祖輩肅然起敬。正是他們，當年為了追求更好的生活而來，為建成今日的新疆奠定了基石。今天像我一樣走出新疆去其他城市生活的人很多，但更多的新疆人留在這片美麗的土地上孜孜不倦創造著自己的幸福生活。而我也意識到，如果不能親自來新疆深入當地人的生活，人的視野必將因為缺乏一手信息而受到局限。希望更多的人來新疆，更好地了解我的家鄉，看看這里是多么的美麗而又多元。新疆歡迎您！