Peeler Village | No longer climbing cliffs to get in and out

For the three of us, the village of Peel was a knot.

An old tower floating in Ta County for 16 years. Before the repair of the Pile Bridge, he entered Pile four times but did not enter. Finally, he entered for the fifth time. The next day the flood broke the bridge and almost stayed for a month.

A photographer who came to stay for a month every year, almost broke down halfway through the car, but had no choice but to turn around and turn back.

A person who came to Ta County for the first time was lucky enough to go to Mayang Township, and found that the village where the children climbed the cliff to go to school on TV was here, so he drove there happily, but was told that the Piller Bridge was flooded again on the way Breaking through, trying to enter Pile.

Although we headed towards Pile Village this time, we were not fully sure, so let’s relax and do whatever we want.

Peeler Village | No longer climbing cliffs to get in and out

I haven’t been to the countryside for a long time. When I went to Xiabandi Reservoir, I found that the water level was surprisingly low, and the bridge submerged in the water surfaced again.

The scene of Xiabandi Village in the past also rose slowly with the falling water level. The houses, trees, people and animals all appeared in my imagination. I seemed to see the thriving village again. Before they were submerged, they were full of vitality.

Peeler Village | No longer climbing cliffs to get in and out

I came to Vacha with a familiar road, and all the snow that had cooled down in the past few days remained on the top of the mountain. Here, it became a valley surrounded by snow-capped mountains. Although the altitude of Wacha is relatively high, this large flat valley provides people here. Pastures and fields, so people survive here.

Peeler Village | No longer climbing cliffs to get in and out

The mountains of Pamir have always been magnanimous. Even if there are not enough trees and grasslands, it nourishes and grows the Tajiks on the plateau. Their outlines are like these steep rocks, and their hearts are pure like The blue sky on the plateau has no impurities.

Peeler Village | No longer climbing cliffs to get in and out

Tajiks are nostalgic. Even if the old house has been demolished, they are reluctant to leave the ruins. Every pillar and every stone is stacked together, as if they will be resurrected one day. This is life hope, can not give up.

An old man was sitting in the yard. She asked me for a cigarette and smoked it skillfully. I wonder if she would use this cigarette to recall the past.

Passing by an old house, although it is dilapidated, the woman drying grass on the roof, the woman taking the child to bask in the sun, and the woman looking for things in the ruins, they are still doing trivial things as usual.

If all this happened because of the earthquake, those who survived would still have to live on.

The cattle pen on the side of the mountain may be the only ancient building that can be preserved. At this time, there is a battle between man and cattle. In order to distinguish your own yaks, it is necessary to mark them. I have seen them on sheep before. Graffiti or earrings on the ears, this is the first time I have seen yaks marked.

The three men first wrapped ropes around the horns and legs of the yak, and then pushed it down. One of them stuck a red-hot patterned iron directly on the face of the yak. It’s a bit cruel. I thought it was over, but I didn’t expect the owner to burn a gap in its horn with a hot iron.

In this small space of a few square meters, other cows curled up in the corner, witnessing what happened to their compatriots.

When leaving, the photographer used his lens to record a house that was demolished and only one room was left, with the door inside exposed, and the picture was a bit absurd.

When crossing the Maryanda Ban, I was once again attracted by the barren mountains. The nearby mountains are endless, and the snow-capped mountains in the distance are undulating. Do not give you excessive beauty.

The power of the car gradually weakened. We slowly climbed up Daban. The snow on the roadbed had melted. The snow on the mountains on both sides was carved into an abstract painting by the differences in the mountains, temperature and sunshine. These black and white textures are nature A gift for travelers, as long as you look out the window, the gift is there.

I like the workers who pull the optical cables by the roadside, because with them, remote mountainous areas have electricity, the Internet, and a medium to understand the outside world, so there is the possibility of choosing another life.

Routine inspection to Maryang Township, fortunately, I know some local people, and visiting friends will not be denied entry. Fortunately, we got permission to move on, provided that we don’t buy stones inside.

There are too many treasures buried in the mountains of the Pamirs. Human desires have turned these things that should be stones into jewelry for money, so over-exploitation and illegal trading came into being.

I have never been interested in these stones. My interest may be a tree by the roadside or a flower on the ground.

Entering the Maryang mountain area, new houses in the village appear dotted in the ravine. These red colored steel roofs symbolize the grace of the motherland. Although the area of ​​this grace is not large, it radiates a wide range. Even such a remote mountainous area is still the object of care, the premise is of course to exchange it with an old house.

Photographers who used to go to the countryside were so happy. Just a small village can consume your whole day. Now we can shoot less content, and the pace of progress is faster. After a while, we came to Pi The demarcation point of Le Village.

But we didn’t go straight to Pile Village, Buhuqirab Village in the other direction became our temporary destination. I don’t know if there will be a miracle in the village that I have never heard of.

Now is the dry season, and the water level of the Yarkand River is not high. This meandering river will eventually flow into the Tarim River, nourishing the land of Xinjiang along the way.

It is sunny and cloudless, the river water is like a piece of soft pink-blue jade, the barren hills are still earthy, and the poplar trees are newly growing green branches. The simple matching can also show how wonderful the color combination of nature is.

Maybe this place has never been noticed by outsiders. The road conditions are surprisingly steep, with landslides on one side and steep cliffs on the other. A stingy road is only the width of the car. We breathed all the way, and I kept adjusting my position in the back seat. I am afraid that my weight will overwhelm this already unstable road.

In the end, we gave up entering the village, whether this experience hinted at the fate of the three of us going to Pile.

I met a few green Populus euphratica trees on the road. They stood alone, resolutely, and unyieldingly among the mountains.

So I wrote a love letter to my lover:

I want to give you this lonely tree, like a speck of dust in the universe,

When the wind blows across its face, it shakes your head and seeps into the roots of the tree,

Slowly grow and then age.

I used to love to look at trees when I was traveling. Trees remind people of love easily. After so many years, the habit remains the same.

And the end of this trip was too easy. Compared with the road in the village just now, the road of Pile is simply the national road. We talked about the various encounters when we came here before, and we arrived in a short while.

Perhaps because of the various fantasies about it before I came here, Piller is not what I imagined, with the same new house, the same construction, and the same village cadres to give lectures and distribute labor to everyone.

We found a family that could receive us, and the host still entertained us with the same enthusiasm.

Even though the kitchen has been demolished, we still cooked a delicious meal of ramen in the open air. At night, an uncle who played hot wap came over as a guest, and the small new house was crowded with people.

Fortunately, the kang in Tajikistan can both eat and sleep. Otherwise, we travelers who came suddenly, this house would not be able to accommodate us.

We made the beds one by one, Uncle Rebapu’s voice was in our ears, and the vast starry sky was outside the window. Maybe in this universe, all the problems will be absorbed by the stars at night. Go on with your life like nothing is wrong.

The next day, we continued to walk inside from the village committee, crossed Pile’s Daban, and went to find another friend of Lao Yu’s.

The family he lived in many years ago found the family’s tent based on his memory. Due to the demolition of the old house, the villagers were relocated to the county seat, so there was no new house built here. This small village began to become a little lonely. Those who still pack their furniture here mostly live in tents.

We came to a tent where there was only one grandma, and visited her house that was demolished. As soon as we entered, she immediately took out the portrait of the chairman, on which was written the Chinese dream in bright red letters. It can be seen from the way she holds the portrait in her arms that she loves this leader. Even in a small tent of a few square meters, his portrait is hung.

We have been saying that the gears of the times roll forward and never stop for anything.

I may have witnessed all this at the time of the change here, and I have not regretted it from traveling to living here.