Giant Neighbors Russia, China See Fault Lines Start to Appear Immigrant Farm Workers Fill Gap, But Tensions Rise; Standoff Over Pipeline Meng Dani Builds a Greenhouse
AYATSKOYE, Russia -- When Vladimir Shiryaev bought Ayatskoye, a near-bankrupt farm in the Urals, in 2000, he wondered how he would ever get the harvest in. Most of the local labor force was either too old or too drunk to work.
So he sought rescue from a group of Chinese laborers, led by a woman from Inner Mongolia named Meng Dani. He leased them about 50 acres, and within a few months they were growing tomatoes and cabbages on land that had stood untilled for years.
Mr. Shiryaev is delighted with his hard-working new tenants. "They've got a really serious operation going here," he says. "I really hope they can inspire the locals to work harder." Regional officials are so impressed they're now planning to turn millions of acres of long-uncultivated fields over to Chinese peasants like Ms. Meng.
But among many natives here in Russia's heartland, the idea has proved controversial. "Those farmers are a landing force," says Igor Vyaginsky, a crew-cut local activist from the Movement Against Illegal Immigration with a penchant for military terminology. "They'll establish a bridgehead and then spread out. We could end up losing our territory."
The dispute over Ayatskoye is typical of the tension at the heart of the Russia-China relationship. Russia is finding it hard to cope with the emergence of a new global power right on its doorstep, and many Russians fear being overwhelmed by their dynamic and more-populous neighbor. But on the ground, especially in Russia's sparsely populated countryside, Chinese labor is helping to stave off economic ruin.
In Ayatskoye, Russia, Vladimir Shiryaev revitalized a near-bankrupt farm in the Urals with the help of a group of Chinese laborers.
To the outside world, Russia and China appear to be cozying up like never before. In October 2004, Moscow ceded territory to its southern neighbor to resolve a longstanding border conflict that had sparked a war in the late 1960s. The following year the two carried out their first-ever joint military exercise. China buys about $1 billion worth of Russian weapons every year, making it the Russian arms industry's biggest customer. Altogether, the two countries' trade was valued at $29 billion last year, an increase of 37% over 2004.
Meanwhile, as China scours the world for energy to power its booming economy, it's increasingly looking to Russia's bountiful reserves of oil and gas. Last week, the Kremlin's oil company, state-controlled OAO Rosneft, pledged to nearly double crude exports to China and said it was teaming up with China National Petroleum Corp. to build an oil refinery and operate gas stations in China.
But China's efforts to strengthen its economic ties with Russia have run into repeated roadblocks. Only one of Beijing's state energy companies has so far succeeded in gaining a stake in a Russian oil field, and only when it agreed to relinquish a controlling stake to Rosneft. Despite years of trying, Beijing has so far failed to secure access to a planned pipeline carrying Siberian crude to the Pacific. Russia, concerned about becoming too dependent on one customer, has refused to commit to building a spur that would link the pipeline to northern China, instead hinting that it will rely on rail shipments -- which are much costlier and less reliable.
Even when the Chinese try to invest in less-sensitive sectors than energy, the relationship can be fractious. In St. Petersburg, Russia's second-largest city, local politicians have campaigned to block a $1.3 billion real-estate development by a conglomerate of five Chinese state-owned companies. The concern: that the 553.5-acre project, which would include housing, schools, hospitals, recreation and retail, would become a "Chinatown"-style enclave for illegal immigrants.
Array of Obstacles
In Blagoveshchensk, a city on the Russian-Chinese border, efforts to build trade have fallen flat. Eleven years after Moscow signed a deal to build a bridge across the Amur River, a vast array of bureaucratic obstacles is still preventing construction -- despite pleas from Beijing to speed things up.
Behind the ambivalence is a fear that once the floodgates are opened, Russia could be swamped by Chinese immigrants. The surrounding tensions over linguistic, cultural and economic differences echo those along the U.S.-Mexico border, where states have to deal with a constant flow of legal and illegal immigrants seeking opportunity. In Russia the concern is heightened by the stark contrast between China's enormous population and Russia's steep demographic decline.
The differences are most palpable in Russia's Far East, a vast region bordering on China that has more than a third of Russia's territory but just 5% of its population -- seven million people. Across the border are China's three northeastern provinces -- Heilongjian, Jilin and Liaoning -- with a combined population of more than 100 million.
Inevitably, tens of thousands of Chinese migrants are already crossing over to fill the void, some of them settling down and acquiring Russian citizenship. According to the official count, there are about 250,000 Chinese living in Russia. Some Russian academics say they could become the predominant ethnic group in the Far East and eastern Siberia by the year 2025.
After early missteps, Chinese peasants who work on Vladimir Shiryaev's farm, left, were soon harvesting cabbages, above, tomatoes and beetroot, and selling the produce to villagers at the local market.
Visiting Blagoveshchensk in 2000, President Vladimir Putin warned that if the authorities failed to develop the region, "even the indigenous Russian population will mainly be speaking Japanese, Korean and Chinese in a few decades."
Yet in the countryside and Russia's provincial capitals, the Chinese are often seen quite differently -- as a potential lifeline for an economy desperately in need of extra hands.
One such capital is Yekaterinburg, a big industrial center about 50 miles south of Ayatskoye. Agriculture in the surrounding region has long been in crisis: The rural population collapsed in the 1990s as newly privatized collective farms went bust and men drifted away to find jobs on city construction sites and the oil rigs of Siberia.
Now, says the regional agriculture minister, Sergei Chemezov, one in four farms is bankrupt and more than 10% of arable land -- about 400,000 acres -- is uncultivated. The Yekaterinburg region now has to import 20% of its grain.
"When you fly over China, you can see every inch is farmed," Mr. Chemezov said in an interview in his office, which is decorated with miniature sheaves of corn and a huge stuffed owl. "Then you cross the border and on the Russian side it's just vast emptiness. Terribly sad!"
He sees the solution in imported Chinese labor. Last summer, Mr. Chemezov announced plans to grant millions of acres of land on 49-year leases to any Chinese workers willing to farm it. He has no takers yet, but the Chinese have already installed an agricultural attache at their consulate in Yekaterinburg to help bring Chinese labor to local farms.
The inspiration, says Mr. Chemezov, came from Ayatskoye.
Mr. Shiryaev, the farm's 53-year-old owner, was born in Ayatskoye, when it was a big Soviet collective farm. He recalls a childhood playing soccer, driving tractors and making hay in the sunshine. Communist subsidies for rural areas delivered abundant machinery and fertilizer, free school meals, and teachers from Moscow and St. Petersburg.
The idyll collapsed in 1992, when the farm was privatized and the subsidies evaporated. Ayatskoye's new managers sold off tractors for parts. Peasants slaughtered their cows for food. With no money to buy fuel for planting or harvesting, most of the farm's 10,000 acres of arable land fell out of use. Wages weren't paid, and most of the male population left. "The only people left there now are old women and drunkards," says Mr. Shiryaev.
He moved to Yekaterinburg, where he trained in law, worked as a judge, and established a flourishing legal practice. In 2000, Ayatskoye's managers turned to him in desperation. The farm was virtually bankrupt, they said. Mr. Shiryaev, whose elderly mother still lives there, paid about $25,000 for a controlling stake and set about trying to turn things around.
Finding anyone to run Ayatskoye was hard. He went through four managers in six years. But the lack of manpower was the biggest problem. Of 32 workers, only 15 regularly turned up for work. Many of the rest went off on drunken binges that could last a whole week, he says. Getting the harvest in safely was a heroic achievement. Mr. Shiryaev said he has lent Ayatskoye $100,000 a year since taking it over. Most of the money remains unpaid.
Finding a Solution
Mr. Shiryaev finally found a solution last March. It came from Tagansky Ryad, a huge clothing market in Yekaterinburg that is the hub of the city's Chinatown. There, some 30,000 Chinese traders live and work, many out of primitive metal shipping containers, eating at the Peking Cafe and gambling at the neon-lit Shanghai Casino.
He was approached by Meng Dani, who was at the time selling cheap Chinese coats in Tagansky Ryad. She and some of her fellow traders wanted to branch out into agriculture, knowing they could sell their produce in the market. Mr. Shiryaev says he was immediately interested, because he "knew how hard Chinese people work." So he offered to let them rent 50 acres of land for a nominal fee. They agreed and shortly afterward, 14 of them moved to Ayatskoye.
It was a hard year. The summer was cold and the harvest smaller than they bargained for. None of the workers had any agricultural training and they made a string of missteps, such as trying to grow eggplants -- unsuitable for the harsh Urals climate.
But before long they were growing tomatoes, cabbages and beetroot on the plot and selling it at the local market. Villagers came over to buy their tomatoes. "They were really good, really juicy," says Tatyana Byzova, a technician at the local school. "I don't understand how they managed to grow them without greenhouses."
They plowed their profits back into the farm, buying a second-hand tractor. Mr. Shiryaev gave them wood to build a house to replace their makeshift shacks. Next year he has promised to lease them another 50 acres, and in 2008 another 50.
Mr. Shiryaev hoped their zeal would inspire the locals. So far, it hasn't. "Our people are not prepared to work with their bare hands, with hoes and shovels, 12 to 14 hours a day the way they do," he says. Most prefer, he said, "to find release in the daily festival of vodka."
Some of the locals object to that characterization. "We're not all lazy here," says Lyubov Rubtsova, a worker in the village clubhouse. "I'd also work hard if I was paid a decent wage."
The Chinese workers' reputation has spread. Area farms and poultry factories, all with their own labor shortage, call almost daily, asking Meng Dani and her team to help out loading trucks and driving tractors. Ms. Meng -- whom the Russians call Tanya -- usually says they're too busy with their own work.
On a sunny day in October, Mr. Shiryaev drove in his silver Toyota Land Cruiser to see the new tenants, who live at the end of an unpaved, potholed road on the fringes of the village, beyond the garbage dump. The men -- all from Jilin in northeastern China -- were welding scrap metal into stoves for greenhouses that the farm recently added, while Ms. Meng stacked Chinese cabbage on the back of a truck.
It had been a frustrating day. She spent most of it trying to find a driver to take her produce to market. "The Russians drink a lot," said Ms. Meng, 33 years old. "They don't want to work." Relations with locals were mostly cordial, she said, although "their cows keep coming over and eating our cabbages."
Mr. Shiryaev chatted with "Tanya" about her plans for the spring. The ranks of new greenhouses spread out to the horizon, alternating with neat rows of cabbages. Mr. Shiryaev looked beyond the patch of land of the Chinese farm, toward long-abandoned fields that are gradually being reclaimed by nature: Weeds, wild fir and pine now stand where wheat once grew. "That land will probably never be farmed again," he sighed.
Mr. Shiryaev got back into his Land Cruiser and drove off to see his mother, Tatyana, a 75-year-old pensioner. Ms. Shiryaeva, who lives in a crumbling workers' apartment block from the 1970s with no indoor plumbing, served a meal of pickled cucumbers, tomatoes and mushrooms and bowls of Siberian dumplings.
After a couple of shots of vodka, she vented her opinion on the Chinese workers her son has brought to Ayatskoye. "They'll make themselves at home and then start lording it over us," she said. "We'll be under their thumb."
Ms. Shiryaeva, a stout, toothless woman in a flower-patterned dress, was also suspicious of the newcomers' farming methods. "They use too much fertilizer," she said. "How else can they get their tomatoes that red?"
Mr. Shiryaev, too, is mindful of the risks of bringing Chinese people to this faraway spot with its villages gradually emptying out of Russians. "If they begin to dominate, this place won't be Russia anymore," he said.
Back in the Chinese colony, Ms. Meng sat in her chilly hut, decorated only with a map of Russia -- in Chinese. To her, Russia is a vast country with a lot of empty territory: If no one else is farming it, why shouldn't she? "I feel so sorry for the land," she said. "There's so much of it, and so little of it is used." Back in her hometown, Hailar, in Inner Mongolia, there's "little land, a lot of people, and no work."
中国移民成俄罗斯心头之虑
希里亚耶夫(Vladimir Shiryaev)在2000年买下了乌拉尔地区的一块几乎就要破产的农场，当时他很犯愁，这么大一块地他如何耕种呢。当地人要么太老，要么好吃懒做不愿干活。
于是希里亚耶夫开始求助于一些中国人。他把20公顷土地租给了一名来自内蒙古、名叫孟达尼（音）的女人牵头的一群中国人。在几个月的时间里，他们便在这片多年未耕种的土地上种了西红柿和卷心菜。
新租户的辛勤劳作让希里亚耶夫喜出望外。他说，“他们工作特别认真，我真希望他们也能让当地人受到感染，干活努力一点。”
当地的官员们也为之一振，他们开始盘算着把数百万公顷长期闲置的土地都租给这样的中国人。
但这种观点在很多俄罗斯本地人中间引起了广泛争议。“这些农民就像先前登陆部队，”留着平头、来自反非法移民组织(Movement Against Illegal Immigration)的激进分子伊戈尔?维亚金斯基(Igor Vyaginsky)说。他经常喜欢引用军事术语。他说：“他们将首先建立一个据点，然后扩展开来。我们最后可能丧失我们的领土。”
围绕希里亚耶夫农场展开的讨论也反映出中俄两国关系中存在的紧张状态。俄罗斯发现与家门口兴起的这个可能对全球产生影响的大国打交道不那么容易，很多俄罗斯人也担心他们可能被这个人口更多并且充满活力的邻国淹没。但在实际情况下，特别是在俄罗斯人烟稀少的农村，中国劳动力正在帮助俄罗斯延缓这些地区的衰退。
在外界看来，俄罗斯和中国似乎从未像现在这样友好。2004年10月，为解决旷日持久的边境冲突（六十年代末一度引发战争），莫斯科同意向中国割让部分领土。次年，俄中两国破天荒地举行了联合军事演习。中国每年从俄罗斯进口总价值高达10亿美元的武器，已成为俄罗斯武器厂商的第一大客户。去年，两国贸易额合计达到290亿美元，较2004年增长了37%。
与此同时，随着中国在全世界范围内寻求能源支持，中国对俄罗斯庞大的油气储备也日益关注。上周俄罗斯政府控股公司OAO Rosneft承诺将把出口中国的原油增加近一倍，并表示正在与中国石油天然气集团公司(China National Petroleum Corp.)联手准备在北京附近建一家炼油厂，并在中国经营大约300座加油站。
但中国收购俄罗斯油田股权的努力屡屡受挫。目前只有一家国有能源公司如愿以偿，不过前提条件是被收购企业的控股权由Rosneft掌握。
中国竞标参与从西伯利亚到太平洋的输油管道建设也徒劳无获。由于担心过于依赖单一客户，俄罗斯已经拒绝许诺建立连接中国北部管道的支线，并暗示将主要采用铁路运输──而这种做法成本更高，可靠性更低。
甚至当中国试图投资一些不像能源行业这样敏感的领域时，两国之间也经常摩擦不断。在俄罗斯第二大城市圣彼得堡，当地政界人士掀起了阻挠5家中国企业联合开发价值13亿美元房地产项目的运动。他们担心：这个总面积205公顷的项目（包括住宅、学校、医院、娱乐设施和零售店）可能会变成一座非法移民避风的“中国城”。
在靠近中俄边境的布拉戈维申斯克，两国之间增强贸易的努力毫无进展。11年前莫斯科就已签署建设跨阿穆尔河大桥的协议，但在种种干扰下，该项目迟迟未能实施──尽管北京一再要求其加快步伐。
导致俄方犹豫不决的原因可能是，他们担心一旦大门敞开，俄罗斯将面临大量中国移民的涌入。类似的关于语言、文化和经济差异的摩擦已发生在美国和墨西哥边界之间。大量合法及非法移民的进入给美国政府带来了沉重压力。而考虑到中国庞大的人口规模与俄罗斯人口急剧下降的鲜明对比，俄罗斯的担忧更加强烈。
这种差异在俄罗斯远东地区表现得最为明显，俄罗斯有超过三分之一的领土与中国接壤，而这些地区的人口却只占其总人口的5%──不到700万人。在边界的另一边是中国的东北三省──黑龙江、吉林和辽宁省──总人口超过1亿。
数万名中国居民跨过边界去填补俄罗斯空旷的土地，这也是无法避免的。他们当中有些人从此定居下来，并申请了俄罗斯公民身份。据官方统计数据，目前居住在俄罗斯的中国人达到25万人。一些俄罗斯研究机构表示，到2025年，中国人可能会成为远东和西伯利亚东部地区的主要民族。
俄罗斯总统普京(Vladimir Putin)在2000年视察布拉戈维申斯克后曾表示，如果政府不能开发这个地区，用不了几十年，土生土长的俄罗斯人都要以日文、韩语或中文为主要语言了。
不过事实上在俄罗斯的一些省会城市，中国人经常是另外一番形象──在俄罗斯人手短缺的情况下，他们很可能成为雪中送炭的救命恩人。
以凯萨琳堡为例，这里是阿亚茨科耶以南80公里的一处大型工业中心。周围地区的农业一直面临危机：九十年代农村人口大幅下降，新兴私有化农庄纷纷破产，男人们都转到了城市的建筑业以及西伯利亚的石油钻井平台工作。
现在，这里的地区农业长官谢尔盖?切梅佐夫(Sergei Chemezov)表示，这里有四分之一的农场已经破产，10%以上的可用耕地──大约为16万公顷──未被开发。凯萨琳堡地区20%的粮食依赖进口。
“到中国看看，你就会发现中国没有一分土地闲置，”切梅佐夫在他的办公室接受采访时称。“而回到俄罗斯，这里却有大片的土地荒芜，真是很悲哀！”
他认为最好的解决方案就是引入中国的劳动力。去年夏天，切梅佐夫宣布向中国人出租数百万公顷土地、租期49年的计划。目前还没有任何人响应，不过中国已经在凯萨琳堡领事馆派驻了农业官员，为中国农民进入该地区做好准备。。
切梅佐夫说，这种创意来自阿亚茨科耶。
现年53岁的农场主谢里亚耶夫出生于阿亚茨科耶，当时这个地方还是前苏联的一个大型集体制农场。他经常回忆起生活在这里的点点滴滴：如踢足球的孩提时光、驾驶拖拉机和在太阳下翻晒干草。那个时候，国家对乡村地区提供的补贴带来了充足的机械和肥料，免费的学校饭菜，并从莫斯科和圣彼得堡请来了教师。
1992年，这田园般的生活一下子被打碎了。农场进行了私有化，政府补贴消失得无影无踪。农场新上任的经理因缺少配件而将拖拉机廉价出售。农民则屠宰掉牲畜来换取食物。由于没钱购买燃料，耕种和收割也就无从谈起。农场总共4,000公顷的耕地大部分处于荒芜状态。由于领不到薪水，大部分男子都离开了这里。谢里亚耶夫说，留在这里的只有老太太和酒鬼。
谢里亚耶夫搬到了凯萨琳堡居住，在这里他接受了法律方面的培训，成为了一名法官。他所经营的法律事务所生意十分红火。2000年时，农场的经理在无奈之下只得向谢里亚耶夫求助。他们说，这所农场实际上已处于破产状态。母亲还住在那里的谢里亚耶夫用25,000美元取得了这所农场的控股权，并着手扭转农场的经营状况。
让谁去经营阿亚茨科耶的农场都非易事。谢里亚耶夫在6年的时间里共换了4位经理。劳动力匮乏是最令人头疼的问题。农场共有32名员工，其中只有15个人能正常上班。其余的员工许多都是酒鬼，他们喝起酒来有可能持续一周的时间。在这种情况下如果还能大获丰收那简直可以说是英雄般的壮举。谢里亚耶夫说，自从他接管农场以来，他每年要为农场提供100,000美元的资金，但大部分资金目前仍没有收回。
去年3月，谢里亚耶夫终于找到了解决办法。凯萨琳堡有个大型的服装市场Tagansky Ryad，这里是当地中国人聚集的地方。目前有3万名中国人在这里居住和做生意。许多人都是偷渡入境的，他们在Peking Cafe中餐馆中吃饭，在霓虹灯闪烁的Shanghai Casino赌场里耍钱。
当时在Tagansky Ryad销售廉价中国服装的孟女士找到了谢里亚耶夫。她和其他一些生意人希望能够将经营范围拓展到农业领域，因为他们知道农产品在市场上应该有不错的销路。谢里亚耶夫说，他立刻就对孟女士的提议产生了兴趣，因为他知道中国人以吃苦耐劳而着称。于是他把20公顷的土地以极低的价格租给了这些中国人经营。这些中国人对此欣然接受，没过多久，就有14个中国人搬到了阿亚茨科耶。
头一年，中国人干得并不顺利。农场的夏天依然寒气逼人，收成也低于他们的预期。这些中国人都没有接受过农业方面的培训，因而不可避免地犯了一些错误。例如，他们在寒冷的乌拉尔地区试图种植茄子，这显然没有因地制宜。
不久之后，他们开始种植西红柿、卷心菜和甜菜，并把这些蔬菜拿到当地市场上去销售。村民们也来这里购买他们种植的农产品。当地学校的一名技工塔季扬娜?贝佐娃(Tatyana Byzova)表示，“这些产品确实很好，鲜美多汁。真不知道他们在没有温棚的情况下如何种出来这么好的农作物。”
中国人把种植农产品的所得用在了扩大生产方面，他们购买了一台二手拖拉机。谢里亚耶夫为他们提供木材建了一栋房子，用来替代原来的简易房。他已经承诺明年准备把另外20公顷的土地交给中国人耕种，到2008年再增加20公顷。
谢里亚耶夫希望中国人的干劲能够激起当地人的热情。但目前来看，当地人对此还是无动于衷。他说，当地人还没有做好用双手、锄头和铁锹每天耕作12到14个小时的准备，尽管中国人就是这样做的。他说，大部分当地人每日仍是在酒精中寻求解脱。
但也有一些当地人对谢里亚耶夫的说法表示反对。乡村俱乐部的一名员工柳博夫?鲁布佐娃(Lyubov Rubtsova)表示，“这里并不是所有的人都是懒人。如果能拿到一份丰厚的薪水，我也会勤劳工作的。”
中国人的勤劳肯干在当地传播开来。面临劳动力短缺的农场和家禽饲养场几乎每天都打来电话，希望孟女士和她的团队能够帮忙做一些卡车装卸和拖拉机驾驶的工作。孟女士通常这样答复说，他们自己的活还忙不过来呢。
10月里阳光明媚的一天，谢里亚耶夫开着他银灰色的丰田陆地巡洋舰来看望这些中国租户。中国人住在村落的边缘地带，在一条坑坑洼洼的土路的尽头，途中还要经过一个垃圾堆。谢里亚耶夫看到那些中国男劳动力（全部来自吉林省）正在变废为宝：用废弃的金属为新搭建起来的温室焊接炉子。孟女士正在往一辆卡车上搬运卷心菜。
那天，孟女士为找一位能把农产品送到市场去的司机花了大半天的时间，但一无所获，这不由得让她心情沮丧。现年33岁的孟女士说，这里的俄罗斯每个人都是酒气熏天，他们根本就不想劳动。不过，孟女士说，他们与当地人的相处还是很融洽的，尽管当地人饲养的奶牛时不时光临农场、偷吃他们的卷心菜。
谢里亚耶夫与孟女士聊了聊关于来年春季的耕作计划。如今，农场的面貌焕然一新：一排排新建的温棚看上去一望无际，在温棚之间的土地上交替种植着一垄垄的卷心菜。谢里亚耶夫把目光从中国人耕作的农场投向了更远的地方：那里有一片长期闲置的农田，原先用来种植小麦的这片土地如今已是杂草丛生、树木林立。他有些惋惜地说，“这片土地或许再也不能用来种植了。”
谢里亚耶夫开着车去探望他的母亲，一个75岁靠养老金过活的老太太塔季扬娜?希里亚耶娃(Tatyana Shiryaeva)。希里亚耶娃住在一个在70年代兴建、现已年久失修的公寓里。她给谢里亚耶夫准备了一顿包括腌黄瓜、西红柿、蘑菇的饭菜。
她在喝了几口伏特加之后谈到了对谢里亚耶夫把阿亚茨科耶交给中国人耕种的看法。她说，“中国人会把这里当成他们自己的家，然后在我们头上作威作福，而我们只能屈从于他们。”
身穿花格衣裳、一口牙已经掉得所剩无几的希里亚耶娃还对中国人的种植方式提出了质疑。她说，“他们用的化肥太多了，要不然他们种出来的西红柿怎么能那么红呢？”
谢里亚耶夫也对把中国人带到这个本地人日渐稀少的村落有所顾忌。他说，如果中国人在这里占据支配地位，这个地方就不再属于俄罗斯了。
孟女士住在一间冷冰冰的屋子里，里面挂着一幅中文标识的俄罗斯地图。在她看来，俄罗斯疆土广阔，但很多土地都是闲置的。她说，既然没有人在耕种这些土地，为什么她就不能租用这些土地呢？她为这些闲着的土地没有得到利用感到难过。她说，与阿亚茨科耶农场形成对比的是她的家乡──内蒙古城市海拉尔，那里却是人多地少。
Guy Chazan
