Home With the Hakkas

The distinctive "tulou", or "earthen buildings", of Yongding in Fujian province made the list - its unusual historical structures were included in UNESCO's just-released World Cultural Heritage list.


This unique honor was greeted with much fanfare by the local government. Yet, some travelers may wonder if they can still glimpse such ancient dwellings in tranquility, far from the maddening tourist crowds.

Fortunately, there are equally excellent, yet lesser-known, examples of similar "Hakka" residential architecture, just off the beaten track.

One ideal destination is Longnan county, a verdant and scenic region in the south of Jiangxi province, located in the heart of the area inhabited by the distinctive Hakka peoples.




The Hakka, or Kejia in Mandarin, are a subgroup of the Han Chinese people who live primarily in the provinces of Guangdong, Jiangxi and Fujian. Their ancestors settled there centuries ago, often to escape wars, natural disasters and severe persecution in their homelands in central China.

The name Hakka means "guests". Today Hakka communities are scattered all over the world.

The Hakka culture is especially famous for the unique architecture of its ancient residential buildings. The homes in Longnan, called "weiwu" or "wei," are usually taller and more rectangular in shape than similar structures in Yongding, the UNESCO heritage-site.

More than 500 Hakka weiwu are scattered across southern Jiangxi, with some 370 found in Longnan. The country is aptly known as "the land of Hakka weiwu".

First built during the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644), the fortified houses in Longnan were designed to allow residents to defend themselves in the event of wars and frequent clan conflicts.

The houses thus have several impressive and innovative defensive features.




For instance, the base of the exterior walls are situated five meters underground, to prevent attacks from subterranean enemy tunnel diggers.

The dwellings have thick wooden gates, often with iron sheeting or other precautionary structures. For example, the gate of Yanyi Wei, a notable structure in Yangcun village, has an ingenious water funnel on top - to extinguish flames set by enemy arsonists.

Another defensive feature is the strategic location of watchtowers, built at the four corners of the outer walls.

Wells were located both within the courtyard, and outside. The inner wells were used only at times when the house was besieged.

While the tulou in Yongding were most often built from packed earth, the weiwu in Longnan were constructed from more durable materials. The bases of the outer walls were made from sandstone and granite; the walls themselves were built from gray bricks and stones.

In the center of each weiwu complex sits an ancestral hall, and an open space for common use. The residential spaces are located in surrounding buildings.

Several small apartments are found on each floor. Rooms located one above another often belonged to a single family, and were linked by vertical passageways.

Apart from some modest alterations (for instance, converting some residential spaces to storage rooms), the original structures of the ancient farmhouses have not been modified.



Guanxi Wei

The Guanxi complex, south of Longnan, is one of the best-preserved Hakka residential structures in the country.

With a history of more than 200 years, the fortress-like rectangular farmhouse was built by a rich landlord. Construction lasted some 29 years. Covering a total area of 7,426 sq m, it comprises 18 halls and several dozen smaller rooms.

The most impressive rooms are the ancestral halls. Surrounding these halls, and also located in the center of the complex, were rooms for the landlord and his family. Smaller rooms built in the outer walls were used by servants.

Well-paved slab stone paths within the complex are wide and straight. Exquisite wood, stone and brick carvings can be seen everywhere inside the labyrinth of buildings.

In 2001, Guanxi Wei was put under the State's protection. Inside the fortress, one can easily find a quiet corner to read.





Yanyi Wei

The complex of Yanyi Wei, in the Yangcun village, is the tallest fortified farmhouse in southern Jiangxi. The rectangular house, built in 1650, is four stories high, with nearly 15-m-tall and 1.5-m-thick walls. There are 34 rooms on each story of the building, all connected by the wooden corridor and against the outer walls.

The only entrance to the complex has three gates. Different from the other weiwu in Longnan, the center of the complex is an open courtyard.

The whole structure projects both a sense of internal community, and a sense of defensiveness to the outside world.



Wushi Wei

Built about 390 years ago, the complex in Yangcun village is one of the earliest fortified farmhouses in the region. Among the region's fine examples of fortified farmhouses, it is the closest to the round type.

Constructed as a relatively wide half circle of two-story room-houses, it has a cluster of ancestral halls in the center. In front of the entrance is a pond, also in semi-circular shape. This architectural style is similar to that of buildings in the Meizhou area of Guangdong.

The complex, named after a big black stone (wushi) in front of the house, is famous for being the home of more than 19 successful candidates in the highest imperial examinations held in the palace during the Ming and Qing (1368-1911) dynasties.




Yuzaitan Wei

About 10 km from the county town of Longnan, Yuzaitan Wei in Xinli village features good examples of feng shui principles, as well as demonstrations of the making of fine traditional Hakka rice liquor.

Facing the Lianjiang River and the Yuzaitan Pond, the complex, with a history of more than 200 years, leans against two hills. A bridge, named Feng Shui, spans the Lianjiang River, and right above the Yuzaitan Pond it leads visitors to the entrance of the rectangular house.

With a length of 55 m and a width of 45 m, it has four watchtowers. While three of these are 12 m tall, the one standing at the southwestern corner is 15 m tall, because the farmhouse's southwestern corner is near a stretch of once-treacherous woods.

The owner of the farmhouse was a locally famous rice liquor maker. Different kinds of Hakka rice liquor, made of glutinous rice and water from the pond in the farmhouse, have long been popular in the region. At the complex, visitors can watch the whole process of Hakka rice liquor making.

Very light, with a sweet aftertaste, the celebrated beverage is more like a fresh soft drink than a liquor.




Liyuan Wei

Covering an area of 45,300 sq m - equal to the size of four football stadiums - and originally built between 1501 and 1536, Liyuan Wei is the largest and oldest fortified farmhouse in the region.

The complex comprises a farming section and a living section. The farming section has three fish ponds surrounded by paddy fields. The living section, with more than 400 rooms connected by 64 paths, is a real maze. The Liyuan Wei has four entrances situated at the east, south, west and north sides. The complex is ringed by a 789-m-long outer wall, and guarded by 12 watchtowers.

The ancient complex is still inhabited today. Travelers can see elderly residents chatting under arches, and children playing along paved paths.

If you want to enjoy this timeless tranquility before tourist crowds inevitably arrive at Longnan, there's no better time to go than the present.

The Key to Cross-Strait Détente

Given the dramatic extent of the KMT’s current opening to China under Taiwan’s new President Ma Ying-jeou, you might expect Taiwan’s scrappy pro-independence party, the DPP, to take to the streets in protest. After all, the Ma government’s measures look like a unificationist’s to-do list.
　　
　　These include: cross-Strait weekend charter flights, which began on July 4; an expansion of Chinese tourists allowed in to 3,000 per day (that’s one million per year); renminbi-Taiwan dollar exchange in Taiwan; a relaxation of restrictions on China-bound investment by Taiwan firms; a relaxation on restrictions on Chinese investment in Taiwanese banks, funds and real estate; a welcome to Xinhua and People’s Daily reporters banned from Taiwan by the previous DPP government; and a welcome mat for mainland pop stars and performers, previously tightly restricted.
　　
　　
　　
　　All this amounts to a dramatic step toward normalization of economic and cultural relations. Many believe, of course, that’s also the first step toward Beijing’s long-term goal: political unification. But rather than strongly oppose all of this, the DPP is laying low. It’s raising quibbles (Mr. Ma’s giving up too much too soon at the negotiating table) while agreeing in principle with the normalization process.
　　
　　In fact, in some cases the DPP is actually complaining the new links don’t go far enough. The DPP mayor of Kaohsiung has griped that too few cross-Strait charter flights will be coming to her city. And party headquarters is peeved that the flights deal doesn’t yet include cross-Strait cargo flights, something high on Taiwan businesses’ wish list.
　　
　　The DPP’s stance suggests two points worth raising: First, it’s evidence of the broad consensus in Taiwan supporting closer economic links—but not political unification—with the mainland. Despite the supposed polarization between the independence-leaning DPP and unification-leaning KMT, moderates in both parties are in fundamental agreement on this direction.
　　
　　 That consensus isn’t recent. In fact, it has been apparent since the DPP’s Chen Shui-bian took power in 2000. Far from being a protectionist hardliner determined to throttle business opportunities, Mr. Chen actually began a process of economic normalization with the mainland that Mr. Ma is only continuing.
　　
　　Cross-Strait trade and investment boomed dramatically under Mr. Chen, and his government in 2001 launched the “three mini-links” between Taiwan’s Kinmen and Matsu islands and the mainland as a first step toward broader transport links. And the Chen government spent years negotiating a deal on cross-Strait charter flights and tourists—the deal Beijing only inked when Mr. Ma came into office.
　　
　　In his heart of hearts, Mr. Chen may indeed cherish the long-term goal of independence and Mr. Ma of unification—only they know for sure. But as a matter of official government policy, their stands are identical: No independence, no unification, preserve the political status quo, but expand cross-Strait economic ties. The only difference between the two governments is on the pace and scope of normalization—Mr. Ma is willing to move more quickly (the DPP says too quickly) on a raft of issues.
　　
　　But a more significant difference is Beijing’s attitude. That brings us to the second point. Despite the similarity in Messrs. Chen and Ma’s official policy positions, from Beijing’s standpoint there are large symbolic differences.
　　
　　Exhibit A is Ma’s embrace of the “1992 Consensus”—a flimsy formula, never written down or formalized, to agree on “one China” while fudging its meaning. Mr. Chen’s DPP rejects that formula as a downgrade of Taiwan’s sovereignty.
　　
　　Exhibit B is Mr. Ma’s stress on Taiwan’s essential “Chinese-ness”—such as his description of Taiwan and China as parts of the “zhonghua minzu” (the Chinese peoples or nation). Mr. Chen never rejected that cultural link outright, but instead stressed Taiwan’s distinct culture and history in order to bolster a budding sense of Taiwan identity and pride.
　　
　　To China, Mr. Ma’s shift in emphasis is critical. It suggests cross-Strait solidarity rather than separation. Here, Beijing and the KMT are allied in a culture war against the DPP—one waged through language and symbols—about what it means to be Taiwanese.
　　
　　That, and not any dramatic policy shift by Mr. Ma’s government, is why cross-Strait economic relations are advancing so quickly under a KMT government.
　　
　　But this, of course, could put China in a very difficult position in the future. What happens when the DPP inevitably retakes power in four, eight or 12 years? Presumably, it will continue to back economic normalization, while rejecting the “1992 consensus” and downplaying cultural and historical cross-Strait ties. Will Beijing call back its tourists, withdraw its investment, and cancel the cross-Strait flights?
　　
　　China is responding to the symbols and language used by specific politicians and parties in Taiwan, rather than engaging the official policy produced by Taiwan’s democratic government.
　　
　　For now, that’s producing results acceptable to all parties. But as the basis for long-term cross-Strait stability, it’s a shaky foundation indeed.
　　

Rising to Life: Treasures of Ancient China

　　By Peter Hessler

　　Photograph by O. Louis Mazzatenta
　　They make an odd couple, the archaeologist and the statue. Duan Qingbo stands in the restoration workshop of the Terra-cotta Warriors and Horses Museum, looking up at a statue he helped excavate in 1999. The terra-cotta figure is more than 2,200 years old, its life-size, naked upper body is powerfully muscled, and it has no head. Duan is 36 years old, his build is slight, and he has a face like an open book—quick-moving eyes and an easy smile. He laughs a lot. He is never far from a Stone Forest cigarette. Dwarfed by the massive figure at his side, he grins and says, "He's like Mike Tyson."
　　
　　The statue absorbs the cultural non sequitur without comment. Silence and mystery compose his aura—nobody knows exactly what this statue represents, what the object is that he presses against his potbelly. The few known facts about the figure are little more than clues: It is the earliest example ever found in China of life-size statuary that shows the human form, apart from the face, in realistic detail, and it is part of a startling collection of new discoveries recently unearthed near the tomb mound of Qin Shi Huang Di, the first emperor to unify China under one dynasty, the Qin. In a burial complex previously best known for its regimented terra-cotta army, the potbellied statue is remarkably out of step—a mostly unclothed, nonmilitary figure whose head has been destroyed.
　　
　　But like any good archaeologist, Duan isn't intimidated by uncertainties. Rather than guess at riddles, he simply points at what he sees—the bulge of a triceps, the subtle ripple of a latissimus dorsi—and the mystery fades away into awe. "Look at those muscles and bones," he says softly. "Most people have thought Chinese sculptors at that time didn't portray the human body as it really is."
　　
　　For the past week I've been in Xian, hoping to gain a sense of the early stages of China's imperial history. This part of today's Shaanxi Province was where the first two imperial dynasties made their capitals, taking advantage of the natural defenses of the Huang (Yellow) River to the east and the Qin Ling Mountains to the south. The Qin ruled here from 221 to 207 b.c., and their collapse was followed by the rise of the Western Han dynasty, which ruled from 206 b.c. to a.d. 9.
　　
　　Today these dynasties are being explored by excavations of two imperial tomb complexes, those of Qin Shi Huang Di and Han Jing Di, the fourth emperor of the Western Han, who ruled from 157 to 141 b.c. Because they saw the afterlife as a continuation of life on Earth, archaeology here is like dusting off a window to the past—a vision of what mattered to these rulers and their cultures.
　　
　　Qin Shi Huang Di and Han Jing Di make another odd couple: a radical reformer, usually labeled a tyrant, whose dynasty collapsed only four years after his death, and a cautious ruler who relied in part on Taoist discretion to help solidify the power of a clan that reigned for more than four centuries. (After the Western Han collapsed, the same family reestablished the dynasty at a new capital and ruled as the Eastern Han from a.d. 25 to 220.)