They were living in Chengdu city, several hours' drive away. Before long they entered desolate streets, spotted with sullen-faced residents, piles of debris to either side of the road, the air rank with the smell of formaldehyde.
Liao wanted to document the catastrophe through the mouths of its victims. He is a writer whose books, such as The Corpse Walker, are compilations of true stories from the poorest and most disempowered people in China.
For about two months, they drove to the earthquake zone two or three times a week. Pretty, with a gentle demeanor, Xiao Jin was good at striking up relationships with people on the street, who would direct them to others with stories to tell. They lined up interviews in people’s homes or other quiet places away from the prying eyes of police and soldiers.
They compiled 36 reports in total, which Liao wrote into stories and published on the Internet. They were quietly sent to Taiwan in March this year, then published into a book called “Mental Asylum for Earthquake Victims” (Chinese only).
Someone up the hierarchy didn’t want the couple to tell their stories. Last week Liao Yiwu wasn’t able to follow his girlfriend to Australia to present their findings, as he wasn’t allowed to leave China.
But Xiao Jin’s relative anonymity made for a comparatively hassle-free exit. With a smile she quotes a well-known Chinese idiom: “The gun only killed the leading bird.”
Tofu Buildings
One story in their book is that of an old lady, over 80 years old, so demented that she could hardly talk. But she knew her grandson, Zhou Jingbo, was dead.
The teenager was a student in Juzhong Middle School, deemed a “tofu building” like many other schools after it turned to confetti when the quake hit. His dead body was recovered from the rubble.
They visited Juyuan Secondary School, which crumbled while adjacent buildings cracked a little but stood firm. Some nearby soldiers wouldn’t let them get too close but they overheard a group of parents in a furious argument with some school leaders.
A local lady told them that 20 days on, some families still hadn’t found the bodies of their children, who were simply reported as “missing.” They were anxious and wanted closure, but the school leaders had given up digging several days ago. The parents suspected there were still bodies underneath, and wanted them to keep searching.
“There were flies everywhere and the stench was strong,” Xiao Jin said. “The two parties were on the verge of hurling fists when the school leaders relented, and started digging again.”
They went to a spot where the flies were dense, and after two digs they found two girls hugging each other, their bodies decomposing.
The news reached one girl’s mother. Her mother recognized a yellow belt she was wearing as one she had bought with her daughter not long before, and fainted.
“In some places none of the houses had fallen, they were cracked but still standing, only the school buildings had fallen,” Xiao Jin said.
“A lot of residents complained that when the school collapsed, they discovered the iron reinforcements were just thin wire. They were enraged and wanted justice for their children.”
A Golden PR Opportunity
Thousands of residents were living in tent cities put together by the army. In one camp, residents were furious at their local officials.
They told Xiao Jin and Liao that the officials had gone to the tent city and handed out rice cookers, fans, and other useful items. Journalists were invited to photograph their charity.
Then later the officials returned, and took all the items back.
“The residents were enraged,” Xiao Jin said. “They had already given away these items, then just took them back. They were just using people like that.”
Interference
The couple kept a low profile, but were often questioned by soldiers. The soldiers had cordoned off some areas, sometimes for good reason. They were afraid of disease outbreaks from all the rotting corpses, and there had been incidents where residents returning to their damaged homes to collect personal belongings were killed by aftershocks.
But Xiao Jin said there were other reasons, too.
“They were afraid of foreign journalists reporting the truth,” she said. “They didn’t want the world to see Chinese people dissatisfied and complaining about the authorities.”
That fact became all too apparent when Liao applied nine times for a passport to Australia, and was rejected each time. He and Xiao Jin had been invited to present their findings by Melbourne-based Qi’s Cultural Association, which would pay for their airfares and accommodation.
He eventually got a passport and an Australian visa, and tried to exit the country inconspicuously via the southern Guangxi Province. But the border officials wouldn’t let him leave.
“They didn’t give him any reason but told him he was on a list of people not allowed to go overseas,” Xiao Jin said.
After his passport application fiasco, it was little consolation when they said he could appeal the decision within 60 days.
‘I hope I can return’
Xiao Jin’s relative anonymity allowed her to come to Australia and present their findings, but she guessed there could be trouble if she tries to come again.
She’s in Australia for a month, talking to media and presenting at forums. She said she doesn’t fear for her safety.
“I don’t know what will happen [when I return],” she said. “I am just saying what I saw and what I felt.
“I hope I can return to China.”
