I found myself in Kashgar one day before the end of Ramadan. I can’t take any credit for planning this, just good fortune I suppose. Up to this point my experience with Muslim culture was minimal and the little bits and pieces of knowledge I had was riddled with holes and the Hollywood-style distortions so prevalent back home. I was incredibly curious and excited not only to be in Kashgar, but to experience the end of what is arguably the most important holiday of the year for Muslim people.

Kashgar sits at the far western reaches of China at the edge of the vast Takliman desert and at the northern foot of the Himalayas. For centuries Kashgar has been a strategic outpost city along the Silk Road trading route.

Today the population is mostly Uyghur people (Muslim Chinese), but The Chinese government is “incentivizing” the Han Chinese population to move to the region, settle and start businesses. This is all part of China’s plan to “integrate” its ethnic minorities by flooding remote areas with people from the ethnic majority (Han Chinese). This puts a bit of strain and tension between the Han and Uyghur people. The bombing in Kashgar days prior to the Olympics was an extreme manifestation of this tension and seemed to be regarded by both Uyghur and Han Chinese as carried out by a small extremist group and not generally reflective of the population at large. That was what I gathered from the locals, though it was not openly discussed. This opinion also happens to be shared by the Chinese government which makes everyone’s agreement quite convenient. As a foreigner here I was always viewed with some curiosity, but was generally well received.

The end of Ramadan is marked with a three-day celebration known as Eid al-Fitr. In Kashgar this begins with an early morning prayer service outside the central Id Kah Mosque followed by celebrations in the square and the surrounding streets. I arrived early wanting to get photos of the hundreds of worshippers from the surrounding countryside coming in for the service.

Time passed and the first light started to brighten the sky enough to take photos. I had been shooting for a bit before I noticed that the few people who were in the square where all beggars and invalids who had come in form all over to receive alms for the poor. There was about to be a mass influx of worshipers from all over the region and alms I would learn are a part of the tradition on this day.

This certainly was not what I had planned to photograph, but if that is what was in front of me then that is what I would shoot. I’ll spare posting any of the images of severely injured, burned, or otherwise disfigured people, but I have to say I soon became deeply disturbed and saddened by the plight of some of these poor people and what they had suffered. On the other hand, I was curious how in a communist society where medical treatment is supposed to be free these people were not better cared for by the government?

I pushed these questions aside as the square began to quickly fill with men coming to pray.  The calls to prayer were getting louder and longer as people poured in from every direction. The square quickly filled to its limits and all non-worshipers were pushed to the fringes by the in sweeping tide of men. You couldn’t stand in one spot for more than 30 seconds before someone arrived and began to set up their prayer carpet in that spot.

I was amazed at the volume of people that could fit into this square.  A few foreigners, some Chinese tourists, and Uyghur women dotted the fringes of the crowed and looked on. I really wanted to get a higher vantage point and started looking for a way to get up on a roof. As I was racing around the alleyways and shops I noticed three women who were facing a wall and praying.

Women were not allowed to pray in the square but I suppose their devotion had them facing the mosque and praying despite the obstacle of this wall.  This was the first of many instances I began to notice of men and women being separated in Uyghur society. This separation was something I knew existed, but it was quite another thing to experience first hand.

I began to hear music from the square and I then rushed back to see what activity was following the prayer service. Musicians were on the roof of the Mosque now playing their instruments as the crowd below began to form into groups of men dancing. Everyone was smiling and the crowd had quickly transformed from a solemn to a festive demeanor. The celebration spread its way into the streets and alleys beyond the mosque and I walked around taking it all in.

It wasn’t until later that evening when I had walked full circle back to the mosque that I was able to put my finger on what was so odd about this celebration. There were no Women dancing,  only men, and nowhere that day had I seen one drop of alcohol. My western sensibilities had taught me that dancing is best with women participating and celebrations are best when drinking alcohol.

I admired the Uyghur people’s ability to party so happily without the aide of the unholy temptations of women and alcohol, but I knew right then and there that the restrictions of Uyghur life were more disciplined than I could ever be. After wandering the night market for a bit I returned to my room, bought a beer at a Han Chinese shop, and silently toasted the Uyghur people and enjoyed the deliciousness of temptation.

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