Livestock

The farther away from the cosmopolitan center of Shanghai and the deeper into the remote parts of China that I venture, the more I have to rely on my Mandarin.  But sometimes, my Mandarin fails me.

This was such a case.

For millennia, trading livestock was part of Kashgar’s Sunday Market.  But the herding of cattle and sheep and camels and horses into the middle of the city every weekend wrecked havoc so, in 2007, they relocated the livestock part of the bazaar 10 kilometers to the northwest of the city, leaving the rest of the bazaar where it always stood.

The Youngs were travellers.  But the Williamsons were cattlemen.  And I wanted to see some goddamn livestock being bought and sold.

Most Kashgar cab drivers are Uyghurs but speak Mandarin as a second language.  Between my Mandarin and their Mandarin, we can usually muddle through.

I tried three times, getting into the back of three different taxis, but I could not explain to any of them where I wanted to go.  I started with 牛羊市场 (niú yáng shìchǎng meaning “cow sheep market,” which I thought was the place’s common name) but none of them knew what I was talking about.

I tried “animal bazaar.”  They had no idea what I was saying.

Next, I tried to circumlocute.  “Not buy animals for food but buy alive animals.”  Shrugs.

Finally, I tried roleplaying.  “If I am farmer and I want buy animal.  Buy cow.  Buy sheep.  I go where?”  Nobody was getting it.

I drove around with one guy so long trying to explain that I actually paid his meter when I got out.

So, no, alas, I have not been to Kashgar’s Sunday livestock market.