For centuries the Yi people of Liangshan (凉山) in southern Sichuan observed strict marriage codes that prohibit inter-ethnic wedlock. Now, although many of the benefits of development have passed by this mountainous region, which remains home to 2 million Yi, the prospect of larger dowries from Han suitors is triggering an outflow of Yi women to other provinces. Matt Perrement reports from Liangshan on a form of migration that appears to fall somewhere between aranged marriage and, as some locals bluntly call it, trafficking (拐卖).
The going dowry (彩礼) for a local girl ranges from CNY 5,000 to CNY 10,000 (USD 625–USD 1,250), paid to the bride’s parents, according to villagers in Liangshan. The richer the bridegroom, or the prettier the girl, the higher the dowry.
Traditionally “it is very unusual for Yi people to inter-marry with other ethnic groups,” according to 19 year-old Jike Jinshi (吉克金史). Marriage was once even frowned upon between the Yi’s several different sub-groups and between people of different social status in what was traditionally a caste society.
But market forces are now breaking those cultural taboos, and a steady flow of Yi women are heading north to Shanxi Province, a prime destination for wedlock with Han husbands. Local Yi men cannot compete with Shanxi buying power. A top-ranking dowry of CNY 20,000 would be 32 times the average per capita annual income in Liangshan, a pile of notes twice the size of the highest local bidder.
“My relatives stood to receive CNY 16,000 (USD 2,000)” recalls Jike, who was left orphaned along with five younger siblings when both parents died within the space of twelve months. Faced with extra mouths to feed, her relatives “thought it would be best for me to get married,” she says. Negotations started with a prospective groom from Shanxi.
“Poverty,” explains the teenager apologetically, drives such decisions. But, she continues, “I thought I was too young to marry and ran away.” She went to a relative’s house in a nearby town where she worked in a canteen for just CNY 200 (USD 25) per month.
“I came back when I thought my family would understand,” she continues. She had calculated that nine months would be long enough for her family to drop the idea, but in fact gifts had already been exchanged to initiate the marriage proceedings—a tacit sign that a deal is done. Jike’s relatives, she recalls guiltily, had to sell a pig to compensate the family of the disappointed groom,
For many families, marriage ties to Shanxi have been more profitable. As well as sizeable dowries, marriages extend family networks into wealthier urban job markets that Yi, especially men, once struggled to reach. Language difficulties narrow their job options and in the past some have resorted to crime, lowering their reputation and employability. But when a woman marries out, the alliance can provide male relatives with a ‘get out of jail free’ card. A stream of Yi men now head up to Shanxi for work on construction sites.
Nevertheless, the arrival of outside suitors has caused a stir among Liangshan locals who are brought up to value lineage when selecting a mate. Only slave-class families would consider breaking the traditions, insists a group of middle-aged men, clustering around the village head in one community in Butuo County (布拖县). There is little distinction, they say, between marriages arranged for money and cases of outright kidnapping, which are not uncommon in the area.
“My oldest daughter was trafficked at the age of 17,” relates one 63 year-old mother, Lile Mama (勒尔玛玛). The youngster was abducted from the village, she says, and taken to Anhui. There, the sex ratio at birth is the most unbalanced in China, with almost 130 boys aged 0-4 years for every 100 girls, and already there is a pronounced shortage of wives for adult men.
“She was sold twice, the second time for CNY 6,500, and was not allowed to go out. Even when she went to the toilet somebody would follow her,” Lile Mama continues.
Mother and daughter were re-united five years ago when, thirteen years after her disappearance, the abducted woman finally evaded her captors and went to the police, who returned her to Liangshan. For the mother, though, the torment continues. “Now she works in the service industry in Chongqing,” she says ambiguously, in what may be a euphemism for the commercial sex trade.
Assertiveness is not the first adjective that springs to mind to describe Yi women in Liangshan. A system of slavery was firmly in place up until the 1950s and women are still expected to take on the greater burden of farm work while men go off to try their luck in the cities.
Jinshi, however, is one of a new generation who aims to make her own way in life, and does not expect any handouts to rebuild her badly-decaying mud-brick house. “First I want to take good care of my brothers and sisters. Then, when they are older I hope they will take care of me,” she says, laughing at her own presumption. “But I don’t want to get married” she adds emphatically.
Matt Perrement visited Liangshan in the course of research for our upcoming Special Report on migration among three of China’s ethnic minorities: Miao, Yi and Tibetan people. The full report will be published shortly.