China

You can smell a sandstorm. As I woke this morning, my throat was drier than normal and the smell of dust and sand had crept into my room whilst I was sleeping. I opened my curtains expecting to see the Yellow River out of my window but all I could see was a haze of yellow light.

Sandstorms have been one of the major problems as a result of desertification in China. As the spring winds blow, dry and degraded topsoil is picked up and thrown into the air to be carried in immense clouds of sand and dust.

Ningxia Hui Autonomous Region is a small province lying in Loess highlands of north-central China. Dry and desert-like, it is China's poorest province and is the least visited by outsiders.

I am here this week to visit the isolated town of Hongsibao, which lies 150km south of the province's capital Yinchuan, completely surrounded by dry and arid land. Ten years ago, this town didn't exist.

"The dryness affects our lives a lot. We call it the 'black disaster', which means there is no grass. On the grassland, we are afraid of this disaster", says Zamusu, a farmer who has lived on the central grasslands of the Inner Mongolia Autonomous region, in Northern China, for the whole of his life. "When I was young, there was much more grass than now", he continues, in what seems to be a statement echoing across the 70 million acres (28million ha) of the gently undulating grasslands that dominate the Xilamuren steppes north of the region's capital, Hohhot.

A Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative reporter writes about ‘hurdles to obtain meager funding or to overcome editors’ reluctance to support the stories’—and offers suggestions.

Following a spate of political violence, security has been so tight around here that a 25-year-old Muslim jade dealer agreed to talk to a reporter only if they met 20 miles outside this historic Silk Road town in remote northwestern China.

"I wanted to study teachings like the Hadith," said the man who identified himself only as Hussein, referring to a collection of the prophet Muhammad's sayings. "I'm too old now. It makes me sad."

Since the August 4th attack in Kashgar that killed 16 Chinese police officers, officials have intensified security measures all over Xinjiang. Militia and troops from the People's Liberation Army man checkpoints on all major roads in and out of Kashgar.

Enhanced security measures on the streets of Kashgar have not stopped young couples from tying the knot. On Thursdays and Fridays and through the weekend, caravans of newly-weds troll the streets of this ancient city in everything from taxis to limos. Musicians in flatbed trucks lead the way and announce the couples to Kashgar in a chorus of drumbeats and trumpet blasts. Amidst the simmering violence, the rituals of life and relationships continue.

Jade, a precious stone commonly used by Han Chinese as an amulet, has transformed the Silk Road city of Hotan into a major commercial center in China's restive northwest region of Xinjiang. Major protests rocked Hotan earlier this year when 500 Uyghur women demonstrated to demand greater self-determination for China's largest Muslim minority group.

Kashgar's claim to fame is its spot on the Silk Road. These days, textiles, jade, camels and cows still get bought and sold all over Xinjiang's bustling bazaars, though it's the province's abundant natural gas, oil, and coal deposits that make it truly rich in the eyes of foreign investors and the Chinese government. For locals, however, it's still about the basic consumer items. I went to one of Kashgar's most important historical marketplaces, the Sunday Bazaar and Animal Market-, today to see the bedrock of the local economy in action.

Ryan Anson, for the Pulitzer Center
Xinjiang Province, China

I wasn't sure if I could cough up any editorial interest in my Uyghur photographs before coming to Xinjiang. Dozens of journalists had rushed out to Kasghar the day after the Aug. 4th attack to try to cover the China's Islamic separatists, or so they thought. I didn't even get my visa to China till Aug. 14th so was a little late in the game even though I had been wanting to go there since 2004.

Before heading out to Xinjiang, a western journalist told me that Uyghurs would hold off on getting married until the security situation improved. Large group gatherings tended to arouse curious eyes. With fewer eyes on people's homes, the safer Chinese Muslims felt.