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Since the time of the Maoist Revolution, the population has doubled.
Very few people left for the cities, and those had to be approved by the entire village.
They've finally come to the family expecting them.
Today, there are no serious questions to be discussed.
But, when necessary, the committee can put to use all its power.
They've told us they can approve divorces,
but added that the occasion is rare, as the commune workers do not divorce often,
because they usually do not quarrel.
Today, they discuss cultivation and harvesting,
a tractor that needs to be purchased, barley and beans.
The bedroom. In winter, fire is kindled in these cavities.
The bricks ignite and maintain the heat all night long.
The pains and sentiments are nearly invisible in China.
They are concealed behind propriety and restraint.
We ask if we could see a funeral, but the response is that those occasions are too personal.
China is a country without cemeteries.
The state recommends cremation. But in the rural areas, the dead are still often buried
The tomb location needs to be approved, but the permissions are not hard to obtain.
A strange crowd of people catches our sight in another part of the Linxian district.
We ask our guides to stop the car, but they pretend they don't understand us.
So we jump out of the car and insist on shooting.
They respond: "If you really want to do it, you can. But it doesn't make us happy..."
So, we've filmed this, as you can see.
This is one of the rare private markets,
where the peasants trade their own products:
vegetables from a small garden, a pig, a straw hat, a hoe blade.
A single exception from the collectivism of the entire territory.
The authorities disapprove of it, and think about it as a marginal phenomenon, nothing to speak of.
We're now entering a village in the mountains without any advance warning.
It seems abandoned and deserted.
The first thing to draw our attention is an inscription on the wall.
Once it's translated we discover, to our surprise,
that, written in perfect Chinese,
it protests the invasion of Indian troops into the Chinese territory.
The governor of the village is reluctant to give us the permission to enter.
He keeps striding in front of us now, vexed.
The walls of the buildings are covered with fanciful inscriptions.
For example, "May the Red Sun keep rising for a thousand years!"
"Oppose individualism, criticize revisionism!"
or "May we wish Chairman Mao to live forever!"
These Chinese have never seen a Westerner.
They come to the doorways: amazed, a bit scared and curious.
They can't resist the temptation to stare at us.
We go on with filming.
But, soon, we realize that it's us who are peculiar and foreign.
For the people to the other side of the camera, we're completely unknown
and perhaps a bit ridiculous.
A hard blow against our European arrogance!
For one fourth of the earth's population, we're so unfamiliar that it fills us with awe.
Our big eyes, curly hair, big long noses,
pale skin, extravagant gestures, outlandish costumes...
They are taken aback, but very courteous.
Afraid to offend us by fleeing,
they come out and stand still in front of the camera,
often motionless and as if petrified.
During our brief digression into the highland,
we've witnessed a gallery of astounded faces,
but we've never noticed any expression of hostility.