Looking to the world like a reporter

Wandering into the market of Xining

That done, we head towards the exit to go to Xining’s great mosque quarter, one of the largest in China. In the elevator, we are in the company of men in suits who look like they’re coming out of a meting. I’m the first one to get off and I see employees applauding when I walk in front of them. Turning around, I understand that the clapping wasn’t for me, but for by neighbors from the elevator. We laughed from that episode; anyways, it’s better to laugh about it. Arriving in front of the mosque, we find ourselves in front of a large building hidden by a gathering of believers and a sea of Hui hats. I walk ahead and like a journalist, I enquire about what’s going on. I’m told that officials are expected and the heads of the mosque are waiting for the officials according to rank. I take photos. I realize later that dad didn’t take any photos. I thought because of his job as a photographer he would have taken some. He tells me that I did real journalistic work, and I’m glad. To avoid this crowd, we disappear into the market. The first seller we see is a bread seller. We see different sorts of bread and even spiral-shaped bread. I take photos for Marina who spent the year covering the use of the spiral in life with her students. All of a sudden, we find ourselves in a little street where there are many bread and noodle sellers. We head towards a big street where there are vegetable sellers and also two young people who mash green beans with a tool composed of two large rocks and a stick. Ahead, we encounter two men that are cutting up a Yak’s head to sell it in pieces; I’m thinking of you mom, Djanan and Roshanak…and I can imagine your cries of horror at the sight of this. I head towards a lady who is making the bread that I like. Thanks to Liu Jia, I learn how to make it. I’m going to enjoy some back in Paris. After, dad absolutely wants to find an old mosque that he saw when he came to this city twelve years ago. To find it, we take a taxi to find out that actually, the old mosque is the one right in front of us, with a new façade. Across the entrance, we find ourselves in a sort of Taoist temple, which was the old mosque dad was looking for. We pray and leave. At that moment, Liu Jia who is a Buddhist goes to a room where a kind of Imam was explaining Islam. That lasts 45 minutes, until the 9 pm prayer that dad photographs. As for me, to avoid the crowd, I do my prayer outside. Leaving the mosque, we go to a noodle restaurant where I order a soup and swallow it like I always do. We thank the family that runs the restaurant. We go to the cyber café to send the pictures, texts and check email. In the meantime, Liu Jia buys herself a long garment for the next day in the Tibetan plateau. We return to the hotel and get ready for tomorrow’s departure. We pack our bags and go to bed early. Before going to bed, dad has me read the SMS that says they have received the photos back in Paris, when dad slept for only 2 hours and worked all day. He’s happy. I fell asleep with my mind at ease, knowing that the work was done.