On the way to Korla, the desert was bristling with giant oil tankers and lorries transporting machinery and equipment, digging holes in the ground and reaping black gold.
Silently watching the Chinese take away their oil, Uighurs realise that many of them could also have been Rockefellers and Gettys. The Uighur leadership tossed and turned in their beds, scheming secret stampedes into the deserts with their mules and camels and taking possession of the oil fields. As they lay in darkness diligently weaving silken dreams, their mud shacks turned into marble palaces, their smelly woollen gowns become splendid “shatoosh” and their train of donkeys changed into a caravan of Rolls Royce. But morning brought gloom and suffering. The thought of the missed opportunity made them stressed. Sitting on a sea of oil, they will remain destitute.
After being stuffed with food by some friendly Uighurs at the Night Bazar in Korla, I hauled myself on a donkey cart for a ride back to the…