Any restaurant in Guizhou, big or small, has a saltshaker on each table - just like in the rest of the country.
But a century ago, this was unthinkable. Salt was a precious commodity. It was not consumed in refined grains, but rather, in pebble-sized lumps. One would dip it into a dish and quickly withdraw, leaving a faint taste of brackishness.
The inland province of Guizhou does not produce any salt. Historical records show that even horses fell sick from a deficiency of salt. So, shipping salt to Guizhou was a big business, with much of the supplies coming from neighboring Sichuan. As Guizhou was landlocked, the Chishui River was a major route of transport.
Hauling this most basic of human essentials upstream - against the falling rapids and treacherous bends - were an army of boatmen known for their stark naked bodies, severely suntanned, and their vigorous and haunting chants.
"It's true the trackers who pulled the towropes did not wear any clothes," says Yuan Qiao, a local historian. "They had to constantly get into the water. It was not practical to wear anything."
By the 1980s, when this line of work was totally eliminated by steamboats, only a few photographers caught a glimpse of some who worked along China's mighty rivers. Some self-conscious ones posed with their clothes on. A few years ago, Yuan tried to recreate such a scene but he found to his chagrin that the young boatmen of this generation were so removed from the old lifestyle that they simply did not embody any of the authenticity he was looking for.
"Boatmen of the old generations were not just au naturel but totally natural about it. They would not evade women who happened to be doing the laundry at the riverside. Nor would the women turn away. Instead, they would add elements of love songs in their chants. It was the most beautiful sight, something we could not possibly recreate nowadays," says Yuan.
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