CHINA: Jill Drewreports from the remote, shattered mountain town of Chaping, where the only way down is on foot
TO REACH this shattered, deserted mountain town, Chen Tong Quan hiked for six hours the other day, his third trip back since the earthquake to convince his mother-in-law that it was time to go.
Chen's only way here was on foot, over a 5,900ft mountain, an arduous climb made treacherous by frequent aftershocks and rock slides.
Despite his efforts, Chen's 73-year-old mother-in-law still did not want to leave. "I'm too old! I'm afraid I won't make it," she pleaded, standing near a wooden crate covered with a strip of cardboard where she had collected whatever she could salvage from her ravaged home: a few articles of clothing, some tissue paper, an umbrella, a scythe.
"She wants us to leave enough food and drink and then come back every two months to check on her," said her son, Ye Ning Gui (40). "She hasn't left these mountains in 10 years."
Scenes like this are playing out in dozens of remote mountain towns like Chaping, which lies 70 miles north of Chengdu, capital of Sichuan province. Those able to walk streamed out first, after last week's rains stopped and the mud began to dry on narrow paths. Now, villagers are joining army and police units trudging back into the mountains to bring out the injured and elderly, many of whom are refusing to budge.
The Chinese government, which has not issued an order to evacuate remote towns devastated by the quake, said on Tuesday that most homeless will have to stay in tent cities or public buildings for the foreseeable future. The uncertainty has encouraged many elderly to stay put.
Here in what was once a city of 9,000, the only sounds on the main street this week were the snarls of stray dogs, the grunts of abandoned pigs hunting for food, the groans from the few cracked buildings that remain standing, and the rush of river water that residents believe is now poisoned by death. There was no electricity, no mobile phone signal.
Most rescue workers, who first arrived three days after the quake, left after helping evacuate the majority of the residents in Chaping, in Beichuan county. The few helicopters that landed to deliver supplies and airlift out about 90 heavy casualties moved on to other missions. A small contingent of government officials was living in tents at the town centre; on Monday, the visitors were beginning to organise the first house-to-house searches in surrounding villages.
Xi Yin Zhen (68) lives in the mountains of Wanfu village above Chaping with her husband. Their two daughters-in-law have tried almost everything to get them to go.
"I tell them the mountains are going to fall down," said Wang Ting Fen (38). "'You have to go,' I said. 'I saw the mountains move together in the earthquake, the mountain pass disappeared. The same thing is going to happen to Chaping.'"
"We still have rice," Xi said. "We will stay. The mountains won't fall." While Xi talked, her daughters-in-law served out their first hot meal in two days - rice, smoked meat and greens.
Elsewhere, a man could be seen working in shifts with two relatives to carry his mother over the mountain on a makeshift chair strapped to his back. His cotton shoes were muddy and torn from the rocks strewn across the paths. His mother had broken her hip in the earthquake.
Another man, Dai En Xiang (46), started walking at 3am to bring his 72-year-old mother across the mountain. She was able to walk with his help most of the way, but he began to carry her at about 4pm on the final descent, a slick and steep mud track dangerous to navigate on legs shaky from the miles already trekked.
The large number of these remote villages is taxing Chinese officials' ability to organise a coherent relief plan. The degree of assistance Chaping residents got from rescue workers varied widely over the past few days.
On Saturday, when an estimated 2,000 residents left, teams of armed police were stationed across the front side of the mountain, helping carry those who were struggling and hefting large bamboo baskets full of refugees' possessions.
Refugees were met that day by a small team of medical volunteers from the Red Cross and a local hospital, who gave them water, puffed rice bars and vials of traditional Chinese medicine to ease fever. The volunteers sprayed the refugees with disinfectant and administered basic medical care before loading them on to buses to a nearby refugee camp.
After an emergency evacuation warning on Saturday night - rain was predicted, and there were reports that a nearby dam was about to burst - few armed police were visible on the mountain on Sunday and the Red Cross contingent was gone.
Fewer than a dozen volunteer workers from a local hospital staffed two small tents at the mountain base.By Monday morning, residents were pretty much left to themselves.
Ye prepared meals of food scavenged from the remains of neighbours' houses and boiled water from a nearby well to drink. When his brother-in-law, Chen, returned on Monday, he was finally able to persuade his mother to go, saying he and Ye would take turns carrying her over the mountain. She pulled a blue jacket from the crate and told her son to pack the smoked meat to take along.
The official death toll on Monday was only 59, but the whole city still lay in tatters, rubble and rock piles untouched. Officials did not know what the conditions were in surrounding villages. In the afternoon, about 300 soldiers marched over the mountain with shovels and face masks to begin the clean-up. - (LA Times- Washington Post service)