Western Peace

Surely it was an idealist who gave this fair city its name, or perhaps it was before the days of Mohammedan rebellions. Certainly within recent times there has not been much peace for the inhabitants of Sining or of the large district of which it is the governing centre. Sining should be a queen among cities — standing where four broad valleys meet, watered by as many rivers, frequented by merchants from distant parts of China, and easily accessible to the abundant wool supply, the cattle, horses, gold, and precious stones of Tibet. But it is accessible, too, to the fierce Moslem races who have freely settled in this comer of China — coming down the northern valley from the road to Central Asia, reach¬ ing out along the rivers, pushing back the Tibetans into their mountains and establishing themselves in force as far south as the plain of Hochow.

It had been our privilege, shortly after the last Mohammedan rebellion (1895-96), to meet Mr. and Mrs. Ridley from Sining, who, with their fellow-worker, Mr. Hall, had chosen to remain in the city all through that terrible time, that they might live Christ where, until then, their preaching had seemed ioi

in vain. Through the long months of the siege they held bravely to their post, caring for the wounded of both sides, fighting the successive scourge of small¬ pox and diphtheria, succouring widows and orphans, and winning a place in the confidence of the people that nothing but such unmistakable devotion could have secured. To this day neither heathen nor Mohammedan can forget that the quiet man with the heart of love who goes in and out among them, perhaps the most familiar figure on their streets, risked his life times without number to help their sick and dying; that he fed their hungry, clothed their destitute, and in spite of sorrow and bereavement has remained their truest friend for well-nigh thirty years. As his home has emptied, the little cemetery on the hillside has filled, the last to be laid in that God’s-acre being the life-companion whose love, faith, and brightness were his chief earthly comfort. But still he lives for the church which has grown up in Sining, rejoicing in the openness of both heathen and Mohammedans to the Gospel, and in some two hundred who have confessed their faith in Christ by baptism.

It was worth all it had cost to reach Sining in the depth of winter just to be with Mr. Ridley and his fellow-workers, Mr. and Mrs. Harris, and see not only what has been accomplished but the widely open door of opportunity. From the sunny roofs of the mission buildings, grouped around five courtyards, one could look out over the city and its surround-

1 Mr. and Mrs. F. D. Learner also belong to the staff at Sining, but to our disappointment were away on furlough at the time of our visit.

ings, and it was eagerly one sought that quiet retreat to think the thoughts and pray the prayers that wonderful outlook suggested. The house is Chinese in construction — one-storied buildings, close together, with the flat roofs common in Sining and which the watch-dogs consider their special vantage-ground. It was curious to see them from the city wall, scour¬ ing the roofs of a busy quarter, guarding their own territory, and barking furiously at any intruder below.

The latest courtyard to be added to the mission-house — the only mission-house in Sining — is one in which Mr. Ridley takes special pleasure. For there his Boys’ School has room to grow — a courtyard all to itself, with suitable class-rooms and sleeping accommodation. The medical work trenches upon it occasionally; for when he takes in some poor sufferer, Mr. Ridley has nowhere to put him but in one of the rooms on the school courtyard. The cheerful atmosphere of young life is no doubt a help to convalescence. But how a hospital is needed! The little dispensary is a busy place. From far and near the patients come, Moslem and Chinese, Mongol and Tibetan. A doctor here, or a trained nurse, would find a unique opportunity, for few cities in China have a more representative population, drawn from vast regions in which no medical help is available. In the whole province there is but one hospital with a foreign doctor, the Borden Memorial Hospital at Lanchow, and that is six days from Sining by the quickest mode of travel. Many of those who need operations or skilled medical treatment find it impossible to take the journey. Mr. Ridley and his fellow-workers give what help they can, but none of them have had much training. This means that the work is at great cost to them¬ selves, cost of time and anxiety, and that many opportunities have to be lost.

What an opening might be found, for example, among the aborigines in the district, if patients who have travelled wearily all the way to Lanchow could have been cared for in this city! More than once Dr. Parry has had them in the hospital, but of course the women could not understand Chinese. Their men-folk had managed to persuade them to take the journey, which on foot would lengthen out to ten or twelve days. But though something could be done for them medically, there was no way of reach¬ ing them spiritually or of following them up after they had left. They were simple, trustful people, not frightened of foreigners, and they must have told others of the kindness met with, for several groups came. If they would do and bear so much to reach the Lanchow hospital, how readily would they come to Sining to be cared for! And a hospital in this centre might have the help of Christians from among the aborigines themselves, who could keep in touch with such patients afterwards. Would it not be the best and surest way of winning these tribes-people to Christ, while as yet no missionary can be spared to settle among them?

Then the Tibetans — whose mysterious, long-closed land lies westward just beyond these mountains — freely come and go in the city, bringing their loads of firewood for sale, their butter, wool, and other produce. Sining offers an admirable centre for reaching them on account of the many lamaseries in the district, and especially the great lamasery at Kumbum, only one day’s journey away. Tens of thousands of pilgrims flock to its shrines, coming from many parts of Tibet and even from Lhassa itself. A hospital here — if the necessary medical men were forthcoming — would have a wonderful opportunity for reaching these wild, suspicious people, steeped in ignorance and sin, yet quick to appreciate kindness and generous in their response.

Even more is this a strategic centre for work among Moslems, who form a third of the entire population. The Military Governor of Sining, who is also the Chinese Governor of the whole of Ko-konor and northern Tibet, is a Mohammedan, a man who wields immense power. His residence is within the extensive enclosure we see beyond the near roof of this beautiful temple. With an army of ten or twelve thousand men trained to modern warfare he governs a district larger than any country in Europe except Russia; and being a Moslem, Islam flourishes under his sway. He has recently brought to Sining a number of ahungs (Mohammedan priests) from Hochow, the Mecca of China, who are much more bigoted than the ahungs in this city have been. He is friendly with the missionaries, however, and Mr. Ridley, who knows him well, is impressed with the statesmanlike way in which he is handling some of his great problems.

1 Kumbum is famous as the home and birthplace of “the precious Buddha,” Tsong Kaba, a lama and an “incarnation,” who was a great reformer early in the fifteenth century. He has been called “the Luther of Central Asia.” Much merit comes from worshipping at his shrine, the golden-roofed temple which is the glory of the Kumbum lamasery.

From our outlook here on the roof of the mission-house we can see the West Gate of the city and the more distant North and South Gates, across this expanse of houses, but not the East Gate, beyond which lies the Mohammedan suburb. The latter is worth seeing, and so are the busy streets by which we make our way across the city. Shops and temples, stalls and throngs of people, claim attention, and progress is slow, for Mr. Ridley has much of interest to tell us. More than twenty milkmen, it appears, sell milk every day on these streets, and it ought not to be difficult to live well, as mutton, beef, pork, chickens, pheasants, hares, and fish are all obtainable. The air is clear and bracing, Sining lying at an altitude of seven thousand feet, and among the many products of the district are wheat, barley, oats, linseed, and hemp. So it is no wonder the stalls and shops are busy — warehouses as well, for this is a far-famed centre for the wool-trade and for hides and costly medicines, such as musk and deer’s horn.

Climbing the broad ascent to the city wall by the massive structure of the East Gate, we look out over the suburb beyond — a great expanse of mudroofed houses. It is all Mohammedan, and all new and tidy — a city that has sprung up since the last rebellion. At that time this suburb was the chief seat of fighting, and its streets literally ran with

1 The Chinese inhabitants of the city came originally from Nanking (Chu-tsi-hang Street) in the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644). They were banished because of acts of disloyalty. Now they have grown into a large and flourishing population which out¬ numbers the Mohammedans and Tibetans among whom they dwell.

blood. For four months the Mohammedans constantly attacked the city, and the wall was guarded by four thousand men at night. When at last the Chinese gained the upper hand, the Moslems in their turn were slaughtered with terrible cruelty. “On a certain day,” as Mr. G. F. Andrew records, “several hundred Moslems were marched naked through the streets of Sining, chanting their own funeral service, and were decapitated as they made their exit through the city gate”: this very gate from which we are looking down. But all that is past and seems forgotten now. The wide, main street running straight through the suburb is lined on both sides with new houses, substantial shops, and public buildings, above which rises the splendid roof of the new mosque, built at a cost of twelve thousand taels. Throngs of people are coming and going, many mounted on mules and horses, and business seems more flourishing than in the city.

How can they be reached — these proud, bigoted Moslems? Just as they have been reached in this city in the past. Why is it that in our guest-hall we have more Mohammedans, even, than Chinese? Why was it that, when Mrs. Ridley died, genuine expressions of grief and sympathy came from Moslems no less than from the Chinese?

“On the day we laid her to rest,” wrote Mr. George Andrew, “beside her three little ones in the cemetery on the hillside, overlooking the city of her adoption, representatives of every class in society

1 A tael is a Chinese ounce of silver, which varies in value as the price of silver appreciates or depreciates. At the time of publishing it is approximately equal to 75 cents of an American dollar, or three shillings and twopence. and many different races were present to pay their last respects to one they had learned to love and honour.”

She had served them. She had cared for them in sickness, braved many dangers to succour them in long months of fighting, and had been ready at all times to tell of Him whose love constrained her. Telling and showing that love, she had gone in and out among them as one of themselves, and though without medical training had done a medical missionary’s work.

And this is the work that needs doing to-day in that great Mohammedan suburb. Where is the doctor, man or woman, who will count it a privilege to put in their life just there, to win the first trophies from among the Mohammedans of Sining to Christ? Hard as the field is everywhere among followers of the Prophet, there is this advantage in Sining, that they have had proof of what Christian love is and will do — even unto death. They cannot ignore and do not forget it. Oh, why do we not make the most of our opportunity by providing a suitable and adequate force to follow up the advantage gained at such cost! A hospital to which the Moslems could come freely would have great possibilities, and in addition to the doctor and an Arabic-speaking missionary one or two ladies for work among the women and children are needed. At present we have neither the premises nor the available workers. Who will take this as a call to definite, believing prayer?

An encouraging fact in connection with the situation in Sining is that the Lord has manifestly called and fitted one of the missionary staff for work among Moslems. Mr. George Harris has it so definitely on his heart that he has undertaken the difficult task of learning Arabic and has made such progress that the Mohammedans themselves often address him as A hung. He and Mrs. Harris would gladly live in or near the east suburb and devote themselves to its Moslem population, but hitherto it has not been possible to set them free from the Chinese work. Meanwhile, the mission-house is at the other end of the city, as far removed as possible from the Mohammedan quarter.

And now as we make our way back, let us go by the wall instead of the street, that we may look down into some interesting courtyards that have a tale to tell of the far-sighted statesmanship of the Mohammedan Governor. The wall is broad enough for us to walk abreast. A carriage and pair would find ample room between its parapets, and many are the travellers who would be delighted with the view it commands. Mountains rise all round the city, in some places close to the wall, and the West Gate to which we are going opens on a broad valley where three rivers meet.

But here near the South Gate we may see some¬ thing of the developments toward which Ma Ch’i is working beyond those western mountains. He is the sole Chinese Governor, as we have already mentioned, over the northern part of Tibet, including the lake and province of Ko-ko-nor. That immense sheet of water, two hundred miles in circuit, lying at an altitude of more than ten thousand feet, is surrounded largely by Mongol tribes who have pi fa £ O’

fa
fa

a,
tt
(J

-C
fa
«s

5s

fa J

H c

4=

CJ

£<2
C >,

fa» c
u §
C/3

o c

fa

O OJ

O-S

?

V -c
-C <d

+-» fa

fa

r-« CD

i — 1
C/3

o cr
£ c
fa

8
fa
C/3

HH

fa s
<U — 1
<u -r;

G W
* — 1

1 o

C/3

fa

fa

rt £

fat — (

‘Tj

£ ?J

x a

r ‘j

ta s

qi

T’ /I

‘V
bo
to

P,.W

c/: t-

•- 0)
*-*

fa- V
O ^0

v. 4)

=: n
o

<D
W QJ

fa~

o cs

QJ

VI

£

rt

cr

<U settled there among the Tibetans. Blue in summer, amid its emerald setting, the Azure Sea gives its name to a region upon which the Chinese have long cast envious eyes. How to subdue and occupy it, assimilating the wild Tibetan and Mongol tribes, and how to extend that same process to the whole of northern Tibet, is one of the problems with which the Governor-General is concerned.

Hence these remarkable schools near the South Gate with their large courtyards and brightly-painted buildings, their playing - ground, horizontal bars, swings, and other up-to-date appliances. From those far-off regions Ma Ch’i is bringing the bright¬ est lads he can find to tame and train and prepare for his purposes in days to come. He will need interpreters, Government officials, and teachers for schools that do not yet exist out there in the wilds. So the Mongol and Tibetan lads have to learn Chinese, and the Chinese pupils learn Mongolian and Tibetan. Only last year he added a Normal Department, which already has eighty students. The whole is called the Mongolian-Tibetan School, and is part of his far-reaching scheme of government.

We saw some of the wildest of his proteges yesterday — three boys from the Golok country belonging to independent tribes who have never yet submitted to Chinese rule. They certainly were untamed specimens, and scarcely less so their guardian, a woman of middle age, sent with them to act as a mother. None of the party could speak Chinese when they came, and the boys caused con-

1 For more recent developments concerning these tribes see Chapter XVII. p. 195.

no CALL OF CHINA’S GREAT NORTH-WEST

sternation by wanting to embrace the pretty girls they met in the streets! But now they are learning better manners. How much they have to acquire, poor things! accustomed to a diet of meat, often raw, milk, and nothing else; to eating without implements save their fingers; to wearing one garment only, summer and winter, day and night, and to living on horseback, the stirring life of the border tribe in their moving tents! But Ma Ch’i has them in hand, and he is working for the future. Some day he will have a province out here in northern Tibet, if his ambitions are realised, larger than any of the provinces of China proper, and Sining will be its capital. Already he is building three new cities, Chinese cities in Tibetan territory — one near the Ko-ko-nor Lake, one out west toward the Ts’ai-dan (Zaidam), and one south across the Golok country, eighteen days’ journey from Sining. Post offices are to be opened in these places, and they are to be occupied by Chinese settlers who will cultivate the soil, growing barley, oats, and other products at present unobtainable in those regions.

Colonising, educating, preparing far ahead the men he needs to carry out his projects, this Moslem Governor is undaunted by difficulties. He has his vision. The greatness of the country to be possessed for China appeals to him. He knows something of the strength of its people, of the value of its wool and furs and mineral resources. Gold and precious stones come from Tibet, and first-class fighting men. It is all material and for selfish ends. And yet, does he not put to shame our comparative indifference to the interests in these regions of the Kingdom of God?

hi

Where is our vision of what this city should be as a centre of Christian influence for the Great Beyond? Who knows or cares whether it is being adequately occupied with a view to the commanding position it holds and will hold still more in days to come? Beautiful for situation, Sining should be a lighthouse, sending forth great, steady beams into the darkness, the blackness of midnight around it on every hand. Where are the schools preparing Christian girls and boys to be evangelists and teachers; the schools to gather in children from the mountains and the plains, win them to Christ, and send them back as His witnesses? Do they seem too wild, too impossible — such specimens as these Golok boys? Ma Ch’i does not think so. He sees that something can be made of them, and that, moreover, he cannot do without them. Only through them and such as they can he govern their people. Do we see as far, as wisely? If Tibet is to be won for Christ it must be through Tibetans, and especially is this true of the women.

Where are the evangelists, men and women, being trained as Bible teachers for the little churches that will need them? As it is at present, one sunless room in the mission-house is all that can be spared for the women’s work, and there is no one to help the married ladies, whose hands are too full to allow of their giving special training to the women of the church. Yet how much trained helpers are needed, and what it would mean in days to come to have women evangelists to go where we can never go and do what we can never do!

And where is the hospital — or, rather, where are ii2 CALL OF CHINA’S GREAT NORTH-WEST

the medical men, if we may come back to that — for which Mrs. Ridley prayed so earnestly, year after year? Ought not God’s people to be preparing in this city a well-manned centre for the relief of suffering, where converts might be won who are needed as messengers of healing for the soul as well as body? The fame of such a hospital would draw patients from far and wide, and if its work were carried on in prayer, backed by much prayer at home, can we doubt but that prepared souls would be brought within the circle of its influence?

And there are prepared souls around us here, among these mountains and valleys. Many stories might be told of those already gathered in, but one must suffice — the story of an old man who specially interested us at a feast given to the missionaries by the country Christians.

“You cannot come to all our homes,” was their kind thought, “but we will unite in bringing a feast to you in the city.”

Among the deputation of twelve who prepared and served the repast, waiting on us with shining faces, was this bright, warm-hearted farmer in his sheepskin coat and cap with ear-coverings. The way in which he had come to know the Lord was certainly remarkable.

A Chinese Gospel had found its way to a home in a remote village, where a woman who could not read took it into use for her embroidery. The paper was better than ordinary Chinese paper, and the book was tempting as a repository for her many skeins ii3

of silk. But it was covered with the characters which must be reverenced and not put to any common use. So she cut the stitching and carefully turned the pages inside out — double pages, printed on one side only, according to Chinese custom. When the book was sewn together again it held all her silks and was a useful possession. But what about its message? Surely that copy of the Gospel story was silenced at any rate.

But one day Mr. Li was visiting the house and noticed the book with its brightly-coloured silks. To excuse herself for putting printed pages to such a use, the woman told how she had turned them every one. This made him want to see what sort of book it was. Finally he purchased it for a small sum, took it home, undid the stitching and set to work to read the writing. With growing interest he deciphered page after page, longing for some one who could tell him more. But he knew nothing of either Christians or missionaries.

A little later, one of the Sining inquirers went out to the village to attend a feast. He was not yet baptized, but he wanted to share the good things he had found, so, taking a copy of Mrs. McCartney’s Old Testament History with him, he talked at intervals through the feast about its wonderful stories. Nobody seemed to care much or want to listen except one old man, and he was eager to learn all he could.

“Where did you get the book?” he questioned with interest.

“Why, at the Fuh-ing-t’ ang” — Hall of the Joyful Message.

“And where is the Fuh-ing-t’ang?”

“Come to my house on Monday and I will take you there.”

Carrying a chicken by way of introduction, Li presented himself bright and early at the inquirer’s house. It was disappointing to find the latter busy, so much so that he could not fulfil his promise. But he showed his new friend the way to the mission-house, and assured him that he would receive a welcome.

Somewhat doubtfully the farmer came with his offering. Mr. and Mrs. Ridley were just setting out on a journey. The cart was at the door, and they could only stay for a short talk. But Mr. Ridley made an appointment, and the old man came again. Then, at length, he heard enough to satisfy mind and heart. All the morning Mr. Ridley gave to explain¬ ing the way of salvation. He understood, believed, rejoiced. Returning home he destroyed his idols, and from that time, rain or fine, regularly attended the Sunday services.

His home was fifteen miles from the city, back among the hills, and seven miles of the way lay through a narrow gorge, dreaded on account of wolves and robbers, if not evil spirits. But so happy was the old man in prospect of Sunday, that on Saturday night he often could not sleep. As soon as the cock crowed he set out for the mission-house, singing all the way, and reaching the city many a time before the gates were opened. Even in the bitter cold of winter he would arrive radiant, his beard and moustache one mass of ice.

The consistency of his life and his testimony have us

been the means of leading not a few others into the light. There is no compromise about him. On one occasion his brother came asking the loan of his donkey.

“What do you want it for?” was the natural question.

It turned out that a priest had been invited to chant prayers for the brother’s wife, and the donkey was to bring him to the house.

“No, no, you cannot have it,” old Li exclaimed. “I will lend it to you for any other purpose, but the devil shall never ride on my saddle!”

It was in a strange way, a little later, that the brother learned to treat the old man at any rate with outward respect. He was returning home from an absence, leading his horse up the mountain. Meeting a friend, he inquired about his brother and heard that he had gone into the city to the services. Much annoyed, he cursed his brother, the missionaries, and the Fuh-ing-t’ ang. A moment later his horse fell over a cliff and broke its leg. He was never known to curse his brother after that.

So the old man lives his faithful life among his neighbours, rejoicing Mr. Ridley’s heart by his love of the Truth and his regular attendance at the services. Come up once more to the roof of the mission-house where we can see the chapel and guest-hall near the entrance gate. Both are far too small for the demands made upon them, at any rate by the Sunday congregations. How they come crowding in — Moslems, soldiers, students, visitors to the city, and women and children of all classes! Many well-dressed ladies are among the regular attendants, as n6 CALL OF CHINA’S GREAT NORTH-WEST

well as many poorer country and city women. The audience is an inspiring one, and it was grand last Sunday to hear Dr. Kao preaching straight to their hearts. It seemed as though they could listen all day, and one longed for more such men, men of the people — of all these different peoples — raised up to tell the saving grace of God.

Wonderful opportunities await the evangelist in this city. The moving crowds on the streets are like those of Lanchow, only more fascinating. For here one frequently sees Mongol princes from the Ko-konor, as well as aboriginal and Tibetan chieftains. We met one the other day, a striking figure in his red silk gown, lined with fur and edged with beaver, with a big collar of leopard skin, high boots, and a fur hat. With a dagger at his belt and with the power of life and death among his people, such a man gives one a glimpse into a world other than our own. So does the lama in his red or yellow robes, of whom there are twenty thousand in this district, and the grave Mohammedan ahung who may be a pilgrim returning from Mecca.

As the sun sets let us go back over the roofs to the little tower above the school courtyard. The boys have gone home for the New Year’s holidays, and all is quiet as we look away to those western mountains — the present frontier of Tibet. There it lies within its lofty ramparts, so near, so real, so impenetrable! This valley, running south, leads in one short day to Kumbum, a centre of Tibetan Buddhism second only to Lhassa in its importance. Thither thousands of pilgrims are repairing, even now, for the great ii 7

festival for which the lamasery is famous, to which we too are to wend our way. But to-night let us take a wider sweep and outlook. One cannot but realise here, at this outpost of Christian missions, that we are in the front trenches, so to speak, facing the enemy in his most formidable encampments. Lamaism in its unchallenged power holds sway right up to these walls, dividing with Islam the dark heart of Central Asia. Are there anywhere on earth two more sinister, relentless, Christ - opposing powers? Think of the loneliness of the workers here; think of the prayer - forces that should be concentrated on such a position. Do they some¬ times feel deserted in these front-line trenches? Do they wonder why reinforcements are slow in coming?

Follow in thought that setting sun. Right out to Kashgar, two thousand miles to the west, there is not another mission-station. South-west, across Tibet, it is further still to Leh on the Indian frontier, where the nearest missionaries are to be found. North¬ west, a thousand miles, it is much the same — only one group of missionaries between Sining and Siberia. It grows upon one, does it not, what it means to be here; what it means of privilege, of isolation, of hand-to-hand fight with the powers of darkness? Will you not pray for the little band of workers? Do you not long to strengthen their hands, to share their sacrifice and service for Jesus’ sake? Is He not “worthy ’’?