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.
中文译稿：
致敬默默无闻的新疆建设者
——从外祖母的故事说起
81岁的施惠芳到现在依然忘不了62年前做出的决定——奔赴对她来说遥远而又广袤的新疆。她想通过自己的努力，在一个全新的环境过上更好的生活，不再贫穷。
同时去新疆对她来说也不失为一个好办法，那就是她可以摆脱和男友纠结未定的关系并从中脱身，“他家的茅草屋顶当时真的让我没有安全感。”施惠芳半开玩笑地说道。
让她没想到的是，身在江苏水利工程师岗位的男友在知道自己的女友要舍他而去新疆的消息后，毅然放弃了工作，决定追随女友一同去往4000公里外那个一切都是未知的地方。
施惠芳的父亲，内心殷切希望有人能在那陌生而遥远的地方陪伴照料自己的女儿，就同意了他俩的婚事。在婚礼刚刚结束不久，1959年7月的一天，他们踏上了赴疆的旅途。那一年，施惠芳19岁，爱人朱裕康24岁。
如今施惠芳已经四世同堂，在新疆安享晚年。晚辈们平时很少听到施惠芳主动回忆过去，可当外孙女好奇祖辈来新疆的过往时，对话自然而然地展开了，施惠芳打开了话匣子讲起了她的故事。
我，就是那个萌生寻根意念，好奇的外孙女。
新来的开垦者：支疆青年
说起年轻的时候，外祖母变得十分兴奋，“那时候虽然很苦，但有使不完的劲，天不怕地不怕。”外祖母说。
外祖母这对新婚夫妻和同村另外83人，坐火车，转卡车，再转驴车，从沿海的江苏一路向西颠簸了两个星期终于抵达了新疆昌吉回族自治州。外祖母记得，进入新疆地界后一路上她看到许多维吾尔族、哈萨克族同胞，也有一些从甘肃过去的汉族人，听说他们在新疆已经生活了好几代。
回想刚到新疆的日子，外祖母说，他们一切都要从零干起。没有吃的，自己种；没有住的，就搭地窝子——一种在地上挖坑，顶部用树枝和泥土覆盖建的房子。
年轻时，她做过妇女队长，帮着村里协调过不少纠纷，这都是她引以为傲的成绩。她向维吾尔族邻居学习饲养牛羊，也跟他们学做羊肉抓饭。从不吃辣的南方人，在新疆学会了吃红辣椒。
上世纪五六十年代，全国各地许多热血青年来到新疆这片广袤的土地。与外祖母他们一起从江苏到新疆的支边青年，同行的有农民、技术员和老师等各种职业人员，其中，共产党员和共青团员占到总人数的6%和20%。
外祖父母当时都是共青团员，外祖父一到新疆很快就入党了，并仍然从事了自己的专业工作，全心投入到水利项目中，一辈子勤恳工作，忠于自己的使命，从未有过半句怨言。
据相关资料显示，1959年至1960年，昌吉州40%的荒地是这些支边青年开垦的，80%的水利工程是他们修建的。75%的支边青年最终选择留在了新疆，为这个地区的发展奉献一生。正如那句话所说：献了青春献终身。
被误导的新疆印象
作为“疆三代”，我在17岁时离开家乡到北京上大学，后来因工作出差或者个人旅游，到过全国许多城市。在我看来，新疆的城市和中国其他城市除了建筑风格及人文特色外，其他并没有太多不同，这些特色和瑰丽的风景赋予了我的家乡“美丽新疆”的称号。
但近年来，新疆突然成为西方媒体炒作的话题，他们对新疆所抱有的偏见令我深感震惊。一些西方记者在报道新疆时常用的“强迫劳动”“文化灭绝”这些词，让我觉得无比陌生。难道养育我的新疆变了？带着疑问，在过去三年我频繁回疆，走遍天山南北，城镇村落，想一探究竟。
新疆确实有一些变化，最直观的是火车站、汽车站、高速公路收费站等交通要点的安全检查是比我小时候严格不少，安检人员会检查每位乘客的身份证，所有的行李都要经过扫描等。这里的日常安检甚至跟一些地方的机场安检享有同样规格。当地人对此也难免有些抱怨，包括我。
但当我了解到如此严格的安检是从2009年的“7·5”暴恐事件而开始的，就释然了，相比生活便利，我们当然更重视生命安全。
“7·5”事件发生时，我已经到北京读书了。据官方数据，在这次暴恐事件中，197人丧生，1700人受伤，同时造成了大量的财产损失。
而据《新疆的反恐、去极端化和人权保障》白皮书的统计，从1990年到2016年，新疆发生过几千起大大小小的暴恐事件，无辜生命逝去，公职人员殉职，背后是分裂分子残忍可怕的宗教极端主义渗透。
在2021年的一次采访中，阿克苏地区的维吾尔族村干部马合买提·赛迪尔谈起村里过去的压抑气氛时依然感到阴影重重。“极端宗教人士不允许村民们在婚礼上唱歌跳舞，葬礼上也不许亲人哭诉。”他对我说。
众所周知，新疆人从来都有“会走路就会跳舞，会说话就会唱歌”的美誉，这种极端做法无疑是反人性的。
“像茶壶、肥皂这种生活必需品都得清真，一些有极端思想的人经常散播交通工具不清真的说法，也不许村民乘坐。”马合买提说。
三年时间里，我没有看到新疆“强迫劳动”“文化灭绝”的事情或证据，我看到的是在严厉打击恐怖分子后出现的稳定繁荣的新疆，看到的是大巴扎熙熙攘攘的人流，是公园广场飘动的艳丽的舞裙，看到的是外祖母快乐的生活。外祖父过世前有个雷打不动的爱好，那就是每晚7点准时守在电视机前看《新闻联播》，因为这是了解国家政策的窗口。
“应该让他们（西方记者）多听听新疆人的声音，而不是那些编造的谎言。”马合买提说。
而我现在很想知道的是，对比现在一些西方国家高唱的“人权至上”的口号，当人们被极端思想裹挟的时候，这些所谓的“人权斗士”去哪儿了呢？
为了生活得更好
在新疆，和世界上任何地方一样，人们也向往着过上更好的生活。身处和田的26岁的美合日古丽·艾萨也曾面临东西方已婚女性都会遇到的两难境地，工作和家庭，如何平衡？她想要一个工作机会，但还要照顾好两个孩子。
当地政府考虑到老百姓素有安土重迁的情结，引进了不少产业给当地居民尤其是当地妇女就业。2019年，美合日古丽在一家招商引资的纺织公司找到一个岗位。丈夫去教育培训中心学习，她在工作的同时还通过网络自学销售课程。因为她汉语好，还会用电脑，勤奋好学的她，很快被公司从挡车工提拔为库管。
教育培训中心，这个被西方媒体报道为“集中营”的地方，不仅教给她丈夫常用的法律知识，更教会他了工作技能，有一技之长更容易找到工作。
我们第一次见到美合日古丽的时侯，她身着灰色职业套裙，看起来没有一点全职主妇的痕迹。“我以前除了家务，什么都不知道。每天的生活就是，天亮了，天黑了。”她对我说。工作以后，才慢慢接触到时尚，“当孩子告诉我说妈妈你越来越漂亮了，那一刻我由衷地感到开心。”
美合日古丽现在最大的愿望就是希望孩子们好好学习，不管学到什么程度，她都会努力供养孩子完成学业。“孩子们能‘学’到哪儿，我就能让他们‘学’到哪儿。”
吐尔逊汗·图尔逊尼亚孜是和田一个地道的农民，2020年她成为一家当地牛奶企业的全职雇员。享受政府补贴后，她还养殖了几头奶牛。
同年，当地政府投资7500万元为全县3766户贫困家庭购买奶牛，作为配套，牛奶公司免费为奶牛养殖户教授养殖技术。
“15年前，我嫁过来的时候，我丈夫只有一个驴车。”吐尔逊汗说。最近，她考取了驾照，家里今年计划购置一辆小轿车。“现在，我可以自给自足，有时间就去和田市吃顿火锅。”
和田妇联主任努尔古丽是当地女性遇到问题或困难时的倾诉对象，主妇们可以轻易找到妇联的电话，有情绪的时候就会找努尔古丽诉说。“我们以前去村民家里拜访的时侯，女人们都很害羞，聊天的时侯都不用眼睛看我。”努尔古丽说，这些年，越来越多的女性开始走出家门，进入职场，每个人的变化都清晰可见，“过去，已婚女性想买衣服都得让丈夫给她们买。现在，她们可以自己挣钱自己花。她们也越来越开朗了，在工作的同时也在学习各个地方不同的生活方式。”
工业化大生产的新疆采棉业
然而，这些勤奋努力的女性可能不知道，她们中可能有很多人已被一些根本不了解新疆的人描述成“被强迫劳动者”。这其中，特别是在棉花种植加工企业中工作的女性被诬蔑成“雇用的强迫劳动力”，在棉田“强迫”采摘棉花或在工厂“强迫”工作。
事实是，新疆早在2001年就已经启动机采棉，2009年机采棉已实现广泛推广。方旭，作为铁建重工新疆有限公司采棉机销售经理已工作了十多年。他所在的部门主要服务于采棉机租赁，其客户主要为农村合作社或者私营企业。铁建重工的采棉机是从2019年开始进军新疆市场的，在此之前，主要是进口采棉机主导当地市场。
“以前，90%的采棉机都是进口的。但是这几年国产品牌发展很快。市场潜力大，而且增速快。”方旭说。国产采棉机主要的优势是全年无休的售后支持，在机器上安装远程监控装置，用一台手机就能实时监控采棉机状态了。
马合买提说，他所在的阿克苏地区是新疆长绒棉的主产地。“刚开始农民们并不情愿使用采棉机。但现在机械化生产已经推广了十多年，技术也在每年不断更新。”不仅机采棉在当地普及，现在无人机喷洒农药也得到了广泛使用。
在新疆，我到的地方越多，获得信息越多，就越对支援新疆建设的祖辈肃然起敬。正是他们，当年为了追求更好的生活而来，为建成今日的新疆奠定了基石。今天像我一样走出新疆去其他城市生活的人很多，但更多的新疆人留在这片美丽的土地上孜孜不倦创造着自己的幸福生活。而我也意识到，如果不能亲自来新疆深入当地人的生活，人的视野必将因为缺乏一手信息而受到局限。希望更多的人来新疆，更好地了解我的家乡，看看这里是多么的美丽而又多元。新疆欢迎您！
