Dispatch from Moganshan, East China

The government has sold our beautiful local tea plantation to developers
December 15, 2010

The German chamber of commerce in Shanghai invited me to take part in a panel discussion about foreign entrepreneurship in China. It was my previous business venture that prompted this—the magazine company I set up which was forcibly taken over by the government, not the coffee shop I now run in the country. On stage with me were a Chinese-American “angel” investor and three Germans: a fund manager, a consultant and the founder of a photo library. We had been sent a questionnaire beforehand to gauge our positions and the host had laughed at the negative tone of my responses. “Good to have a dissenting voice,” he said. “Makes things interesting.” (Those were the exact words Piers Morgan used when interviewing me for his television show on Shanghai last year, before I was cut from it.)

This time I got a chance to be heard. I said that if you are a foreign entrepreneur and think you can build a business in China and receive a just reward, forget it. The audience looked disbelieving so I gave them some examples. My fellow panellists began to prefix their much more positive responses with “Mark is quite right, but…”

At the end of a lively debate, most of the speakers agreed that a foreigner can build a business in China, but will suffer once he or she gets too successful. Only one of the panel insisted this was not the case and that his own business proved it. We turned to him and gently explained that this meant he wasn’t successful, yet.

WHAT'S IN A NAME

Place names in China are a mutable feast. The nearest town has two names thanks to a hamlet (Wukang) which is close by and growing faster than the seat of local government (Deqing). So does the village (Yucun) at the foot of our mountain (Moganshan). Yucun is also now known as Moganshan Town thanks to our village on the top of the mountain, which doesn’t have a name. We’re just a mountain.

Meanwhile Moganshan (Mogan Mountain) has become a brand. There is a Moganshan development zone in Wukang/Deqing and countless Moganshan tea plantations and bamboo factories in all directions. The local tourism industry has co-opted the name with abandon. “Enjoy the mountain scenery, fresh air [and so on] of beautiful Moganshan,” the brochures declare, neglecting to mention that you’ll be staying miles away. We receive a stream of confused visitors in the coffee shop, asking for directions to their accommodation. We have to tell them to go back down the mountain, past the ticket office where they paid £8 to enter the scenic area, and keep going for half an hour.

Usually the visitors are looking for a place below the mountain that was called Shanjiuwu (Mountain Dove Village). Foreigners can’t pronounce the name so they refer to it as Sanjiuwu (395 Village), which sounds similar. Now the locals have started using the number too and yesterday I saw a new sign, erected by the council, directing me to Three Dove Village. Maybe it should read Three Name Village.

TEATIME IS OVER

The tea plantation at the back of the mountain always closes down for winter, but this year it has shut for good. The charming Mr Pan and his family who have run the place for years have disappeared.

The plantation is going to be “developed.” No one knows when it will start, but it will involve the tea fields being replaced with villas and probably some kind of restaurant. I am heartbroken. The plantation was one of Moganshan’s gems. The tea was excellent and Mr Pan served delicious food. Local officials, visiting dignitaries and policemen were regular guests for boozy lunches. Foreigners who stumbled on the place were amazed by the unspoilt simplicity, the wonderful views, the sunsets. If Condé Nast Traveller had ever found it, they would have dropped their chopsticks in their Gucci handbag.

The government knew what it was destroying when it sold out to the developers. And it waited until it had opened its own restaurant round the other side of the mountain. That doesn’t have the views, let alone any charm, but the food is outstanding since the government ordered one of its top chefs into the kitchen. The trouble is, he’s only there when the officials come for lunch. Otherwise, the place is shut.

A CHINESE CHRISTMAS CAROL

There is a strong Christian community in the village thanks to the missionaries who built the place 100 years ago. The locals take Christmas carols seriously. They decorate an empty shop on the high street, plaster it with characters for “Emmanuel” (the name Jesus is banned), call in a brass band and a priest, and have a proper service. It is only permitted a few weeks before Christmas so its significance is diluted.

On Christmas Day my gang of foreign friends will march over to an abandoned church with jugs of mulled wine. We’ll stand outside the locked door, drink and sing carols heartily and then troop to the coffee shop for lunch, presents and all the heathen trimmings. We won’t mention Jesus either, but anyone who sees us will say how wonderful it is to have genuine foreign Christians back in Moganshan.