Chloe:
From cold winters to summer breezes, it has been a little more than half a year since we first started working for CERS. After our time at Shek O Exhibit House, we had the precious opportunity to assist with CER’s ongoing projects at CERS Zhongdian Campus in Shangri-la. Our time there opened for us a rich view of so many cultural landscapes; from the resilience of the Evenkis, vibrance of the Lisu people, to the layers of stories within the fabrics at the textile pavilion. Each encounter deepened our understanding in ways beyond words.
Our first assignment upon arrival at Zhongdian was the setup of a pavilion featuring the Evenki community. My first encounter with the exhibits left me speechless, a feeling that lingers to this day. Bearing the marks of time, most were worn, layered with thick dust, even borers and patches of mildew between the crevices of the items. Despite previous preservation efforts, it could not win the battle against time. At first, I felt detached from them, seeing in them only a collection of dusty objects — nameless, purposeless, their stories forgotten. This was until I watched the documentation film about the Evenki people.
The film was not long, only about twenty minutes, but distilled the tumultuous life of Mariasol, the last true reindeer herder of the region. It captured her prime interacting with her husband, meticulously preparing hunting gear, snowflakes settling on her resolute face. Then time shifted, and the lens returned to her now receding figure. Her husband gone; her children and nephews swept up by the currents of change. With the prohibition on hunting, ancestral skills and tools, once vital for survival, became history overnight. A bone-deep confusion and loss radiated from the screen, pressing heavily on my heart. Returning to the pavilion to resume our work, the dusty crossbows, leather goods, and household utensils were no longer objects; they became silent yet powerful testaments of the resilient Evenki community, facing the onslaught of modernization. The process of cleaning, documenting, and displaying them felt like the rediscovery of unspoken history, now heeded once again.
After we finished this project, our days continued on a lighter note, into the Lisu village. We stopped midway for a short cirambulation at the Damo Cave, a sacred pilgrimage site. Walking slowly up the mountain path, breathing in the fresh air after the rain, our minds grew calm. At the end of this hike was a wooden cabin perched on the edge of a cliff, one of the project sites built entirely by Mr. Cao Zhongyue, known by the CERS team as Cao Shifu (曹師傅). Sitting there, gazing at the layered green mountains and the shimmering waters of the Jinsha River, I couldn’t help but admire his determination in creating this refuge. Today, the cabin still stands and the river flows as ever, yet those calloused hands that once shaped its beams are now gone, leaving only the mountain wind to sigh, as if mourning his passing.
Lauren:
Returning from the Lisu village, we unlocked another corner of the Campus — a new pavilion hidden behind a shaded path and a pond. There awaited a trove of treasures, a rainbow collection of clothes that traced How Man’s footsteps in the hilly region of Southwest China. Through reading each tag on the clothes, we have grown to some degree, a deeper sense of knowledge in the small ethnic groups of the Dong, Li, Miao, Buyi, and Ge. However, some tags were lost with time, and so we were left with puzzle pieces.
Our cook, Xiao Yue, an inquisitive and passionate Tibetan woman, with the spirit of an explorer, often came to deliver us snacks and tea, alongside marvelling at the stitching of each fabric. Sometimes, she might even comment on the embroidery techniques. So, with a spark of epiphany, we asked for her opinions as she entered the pavilion.
Occasionally an expert, sometimes speculative, she helped identify some unfamiliar pieces. Helpful as she had always been, we made some truly interesting discoveries. For instance, a headpiece of the Ge people resembling the sun, hinting perhaps at solar worship among the Ge.
With help from our friends, especially our carpenter Master Feng, we curated a collage of textiles that narrates the soul, wisdom, and creation of these ethnic groups. I was particularly happy and proud of this project. After all, we did this together with our friends and staff, contributing by giving these items a new life, a new voice, and a new home. We also picked up some nailing skills along the way!
As the camera flash captured us in front of the now furnished pavilion, I remember myself vividly touched by the documentation film on Master Cao’s lifelong dedication to CERS, and its mission in conservation. My current steps are small compared to his, but with all my heart, I look up to him, and perhaps someday, I can uphold this spirit, just as one light could kindle another. Though no label tells his story or exhibits that mark his efforts, the cabin that now stands by the cliff is, in itself, the greatest sign of his selflessness. And it shall continue to look over the mountains and rivers that he saw while building this sanctuary for those yet to come.
Spending a day off from work, we also joined the Lisu Crossbow Festival. Though the pouring rain cut the competition short, it did not dampen the hearts of fiery contestants. By dusk, the skies cleared, so we gathered for a bonfire night full of music and laughter in Xiangguqing.
Our local host Tseren, half Tibetan and half Lisu, a big man with a hearty laugh, remarked, “How boring it would be if all the ethnic groups wore the same clothes!”
It struck a chord in my heart, echoing throughout the textile project. After his warm welcome, we were invited to join in their dance. As I danced along that night, I saw not only the vitality of cultures, but also their desire to express themselves, the urge to be seen, the need to exist. Their clothes and dance were not just a form of self-expression, but a silent defence to keep their identity alive. And despite my two left feet, I danced tirelessly. Needless to say, this was one of the miracles of this journey, second only to how my friends from Yunnan managed to transform me from a city dweller to joining spontaneous lookouts for mushrooms together.
Now home, I look back at my time in Shangri-la as a truly one-of-a-kind experience. From Shek O’s headquarters to immersing ourselves in the Zhongdian Campus, we witnessed the cultures and items that we studied come to life. It was an honour to explore this corner of the world, and we would both like to thank CERS for opening these doors for us, supporting us to take part in making a change, to make a stitch in the grand tapestry of cultural preservation. What I witnessed was not only the beauty of cultures, but also the quiet resistance against forgetting.
From the dedicated CERS staff to guests who have travelled far to visit, we are truly grateful for all the warmth and for making us feel like a part of the family. And I believe we are gathered by the same passion and commitment to preserve cultures.
It is with every encounter and each bond that Shangri-la has grown to be the sun and moon in our hearts.