The Sichuan Broadcasts

We start off for today's walk, going down the path we took yesterday night when we left the main trail.

  From up where we are, we see the cluster of houses by the river which is the commercial hub of the valley, a dozen of big two storied houses built of cut stones with slate roofs, standing next to each other. The people there own good land that is easily irrigated. When they don't work in the fields, they run small businesses on the ground floor of their houses. They cater to the peasants who live in farms scattered higher up on valley slopes, and to travellers. We cross the river back. It is easier to jump on the stepping-stones by daylight. We walk through the hamlet and get back on the trail. We must have woken up later than the others, they're gone already. The local party member who has hosted us, a round faced Magar who looks less than thirty, is our guide. The trail runs between terraced paddy fields, all green with the next crop. After the first twist of the river, there is a very big three storied house,  surrounded by large fields and smaller constructions, which look like dependencies. There are red flags on the roof. The trail passes between the main dwelling and the smaller buildings. Two men are feeding grass to buffaloes. In the courtyard on our right, there are four women dressed in traditional skirts and aprons, the worn-out ones for work. One of them is sitting on the ground, her back against the wall. She sees us and wave our guide to come over. They talk. She is complaining, she doesn't look well. He listens patiently, but he is sorry, there is no medicine. I have some. I take my medical kit out of my backpack and ask how she feels. I give her aspirin and immodium. She is very happy and thanks me with a big smile. Our guide is happy too, and seems relieved, he is in charge of these people. He says good-bye to her with words that sound like kind encouragements. "Who are this people? - Them? They're convicts. This big house belonged to one Shah caste man, who was the landlord of the village. He owned all those large paddy fields by the river, the best ones. He exploited the daily workers very harshly, and he was a loan shark as well. He had a brother, who was the landlord of the next valley. This other Shah was even worse, and he was an active member of the monarchist party. The peasants hated him so much, that they have taken care of him right at the beginning of the uprising. The Shah from this valley is a member of the Nepali Congress Party. When we started to organize people here, he called policemen from the district headquarter in, about twenty men. But after two or three months, they left him because he didn't give them enough money. So, he has fled too. Now, his house is the prison and our comrade guide here is its director, among other responsibilities. - All the people here are convicts, and they can go around freely? - Of course! It is a labor camp here, what do you think, how are they going to tend to the cattle and to the crops if they can't move around? - Who's watching them, if the comrade walks with us today? - Watch them? What for? They are not babies, they don't need to be watched after all day long. - But... they don't try to escape? - Escape? Escape to where? Everybody know them around here. If they run away, maybe they encounter a relative of the plaintiff who will take revenge. And if they manage to slip through, the Kathmandu police will arrest them and throw them in jail, a real jail. Here it is better for them. Their only problem is they don't see their family very often. They are not allowed to leave, and their relatives cannot come visit them very often. We teach them to read and write, and they have political classes too. Some comrades told me that in other liberated areas, there are already ex-convicts who have joined the Party after their term, they're even full-timers now!"
  I have another glimpse at the maobadi style gulag in the last days of our trek. We're all sitting in front of the house where we stay, waiting for lunch and enjoying the sun. There is a lot of activity, people going and coming by. We arrived here early yesterday. We came to assist to the political training seminar for local Party members. There is a young guy, twenty something, sitting idle with us. I saw him busying himself with the cooking team yesterday night. They're making fun of him. He smiles, but he is very embarrassed. It's the second day we don't walk, I feel less exhausted. I have regained enough energy to get interested in things again. I ask what's going on. They're teasing him about his wife. He has been given two months for beating her. "He is a convict? - Sure, the whole cooking team is made up of convicts. The old man who is the team leader, he has taken a very very long term, he has killed his elderly mother." A matricide! I am staying in a house where a matricide psychopath is on the loose with knives and choppers! "This team, they belong to a mobile labor camp. Wherever there is a Party function or a people's government meeting, they come along to take care of everything. - You mean, they're always travelling, walking from a meeting to the next? - Yes, that's what they do. - That's what you do too! If they sleep in the same house where you sleep, and if they eat the same food that you eat, and walk all the time, what is the difference between a convict and a Party full-timer? - Oh!? Yes... you're right, we have about the same life style... No, no... there is a big difference, you see: once in a while, we get a chance to visit our family."