China’s forgotten soldiers

Sunday February 25, 2007

The Star (Malaysia)

A remote corner of northern Thailand is home to Kuomintang soldiers and their descendants who proudly maintain their Chinese identity even after embracing Thai citizenship.

Gen Lue Ye-tien, 90, showing his Thai identity card.

JUST an hour from Thailand’s northernmost province of Chiangrai is a little corner of China. But there isn’t a copy of Chairman Mao’s Little Red Book or communist manifestos anywhere; rather, framed portraits of Thailand’s revered King Bhumibol Adulyadej hang on walls alongside faded pictures of the legendary Kuomintang leader, Gen Chiang Kai-shek.

Time seems to have forgotten this quaint settlement of Mae Salong (also known as Santhikiri). It doesn’t feature prominently on Thailand’s tourist map. Occupying the upper slopes of Doi Mae Salong (Mae Salong Mountain) at 4,000ft (1,200m) above sea level, it is still obscure with a cowboy-town ambience running through its narrow winding streets lined with inns, noodle shops and teashops.

This is the home of what is dubbed “the lost army” of the Kuomintang’s 93rd Division under the tenacious Gen Tuan Shi-wen. The pioneers were remnants of 12,000 battle-hardened troops of the KMT’s 3rd and 5th armies who had fought alongside Chiang's Nationalist Army in the Chinese Civil War (1924-1949) until the Chinese communists ousted them.

After fighting guerrilla wars against Chinese and Burmese communists, thousands of battle-weary soldiers led by Tuan finally made their way to Mae Salong in 1961 to settle permanently. But it would be several more years before they would see the end of fighting and violence. (See “Long march to peace”)

Today, wizened old men amble along the roads, puffing on pipes and wrapped in thickly quilted jackets to protect them from the crisp mountain air. Many are former soldiers. Their descendents carry on the Chinese way of life to the third generation.

At 90, Gen Lue Ye-tien still cuts a sprightly figure with a ramrod back, crew-cut and eagle-like eyes that inspire fear and respect. He was a close aide of Tuan who died in 1989.

As a young KMT soldier who fought against the Chinese communists.

“When we came here, there were only thick jungles, But to us, it was a paradise after the nightmares we had endured,” says Lue. “We learned soon enough that we had to fight for our right to live here and to create a future for our children.”

It was only in 1982 that the soldiers were able to give up their arms and discharged to finally settle down to a normal life at Mae Salong.

Many of the soldiers were from Yunnan and most married ethnic Chinese brides who crossed the border after the fighting stopped while others married local Thais. The main language spoken remains Mandarin.

The Thai military helped them get started on agriculture by cultivating tea – ideal for the high mountain climate – strawberries, pears and vegetables. The Taiwanese government provided them with long-term loans.

Mae Salong, equipped with electricity supply and running water, is better off than many neighbouring villages.

In 1994, tourism took off when the Thai government ended its aid to the village. Lue promoted modern farming techniques to his people. He also turned a plot of land that once housed military camps into the present Mae Salong Resort run by a nephew, Lei Yu-tian, 37.

The development was in line with the complete facelift of northern Thailand. Various campaigns under royal patronage were carried out to eradicate the cultivation of poppies for the drug trade shared between Thailand, Laos and Myanmar. The United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime officially removed Thailand from its list of opium-producing countries in 2003.

Many former KMT soldiers have scattered to some 40 border-villages in Chiangrai, Chiangmai and Mae Hong Son and Mae Salong remains the largest village.

The porous boundaries have allowed countless crossings of refugees from Laos, Burma and China. There is an estimated 60,000 former Chinese nationals who have pledged their loyalty to their new country in various ways. One village is named Ban Rak Thai (Thai-Loving Village) where they quietly live amidst pine forests without the touristy development of Mae Salong.

As I sip hot Oolong cha with Lue who cracks peanuts under a Chinese pavilion surrounded by roses at his resort, I ponder the circumstances that allow me this rare opportunity to have tea with a former Kuomintang general, who would’ve been impossible to approach during his military days.

“It’s hard to imagine that this place used to be the blackest area in the north,” he reminisces in thickly accented Mandarin.

“We now live a peaceful existence and no longer have any political affiliations. No more fighting and blood spilling. We just want peace after a lifetime of fighting.”

Lush tea plantations and fruit orchards carpet the slopes of Mae Salong. Every year in spring the mountain is veiled in a mist of pink cherry blossoms brought from Yunnan.

Mae Salong has come a long way from its turbulent beginnings. The town is today a tourist spot and well-known for its crop of excellent Oolong teas.

“The cherry blossoms are a living reminder of my homeland,” explains Lue. “They are so beautiful when they bloom once a year. They symbolise hope and new beginnings. I brought hundreds of saplings from Yunnan and planted them myself. But I don’t have the strength to tend to them anymore.

“Now we have to depend on the next generation to continue our culture and lifestyle even as they pursue tourism.”

Shops and menus have Chinese characters written neatly below Thai script. An abundance of teashops sell the prized choice-grade Oolong and local whiskies and wines, some containing pickled giant centipedes, while snakes and scorpions are curled up inside other large glass jars.

Modernisation has inevitably crept in. Satellite television beams in the latest programmes from Hong Kong and Taiwan. Posters of Jackie Chan’s movies decorate the walls of shops. A 7-Eleven has recently opened in town and so has a new Mae Salong Flower Hills Resort with a huge swimming pool, a first for the settlement. The uniqueness of Mae Salong has led to many tour operators cashing in on its appeal.

I visit Tuan’s tomb, a grand pagoda perched on a peak overlooking the town like an eagle’s nest. The “Grand Old Man of Mae Salong” as he is known, is still mentioned by the people with fond respect. An old soldier guarding the tomb refuses to salute anyone but his general’s resting place.

Chinese New Year is celebrated with much fanfare in Mae Salong, like any village in China. The members of this little community, young and old, take great pride in celebrating their Chinese identity, which they still maintain despite many efforts to “Thai-nise” them.

“Many of the villagers remain non-Thai speaking Thais!” says Lue with a hint of a smile. “China’s history and culture is very much alive here. We will always have a part of China in us.

“My only regret is that Chairman Mao called us traitors to the motherland. In China we are branded deserters and enemies of the state. I am hurt and angry till this day. We chose to leave China because we were anti-communist but China lives in our hearts.”

Lue adds he can never return to China. But by using his Thai name, he has been able to sneak back several times. He even risked a visit to Beijing once but he says he hated the noise, crowds and pollution there.

“I do not fear death. I have looked death in the face many times. I only fear that I will grow so old and weak that I can no longer move and would need people to assist me!

“This is not the land I was born in. But I love it and this is where I want to be buried. It is my corner of China.”