The Otindag desert in North China's Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region. It's one of the four largest deserts in the country.  Jiang Dong

Nason-Orto had never thought he could make money by selling forage. The reason was simple: As a traditional Mongol herdsman, he had seen the grassland degrade over the past 40 years. Overgrazing caused irreparable damage to the land, triggering massive sandstorms in the 1990s. The 50-year-old says he even had to spend about 20,000 yuan ($2,640), almost the entire yearly income of his family, to buy fodder for his cows and sheep because most of the grassland had turned into semi-desert.

"I couldn't help worrying about the future, not only mine but also my children's. How could they make a living if someday our land turned into a desert?" he says.

But thanks to Professor Jiang Gaoming, a scientist with the Chinese Academy of Sciences (CAS) in Beijing, his worst nightmare didn't come true.

Bayanhoshoo is a village in the heart of the Otindag in Xilingol League. Otindag is one of the four largest deserts in the country, the others being Horqin, Moo-Os and Hulun Boir - all in North China's Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region. Their combined area is 15 million hectares (150,000 square km), or equal to 60 percent of UK's area.

The local government allocated land to herdsmen in the early 1980s. Initially, most herdsmen made some extra money by increasing the number of their livestock. But soon the effects of overgrazing started becoming evident, with the grassland turning into semi-desert.

The increase in the number of livestock in Xilingol League is nothing new. In fact, it jumped from just 1 million in 1947 to 24 million in 2000, says a local government source. As a result, the grazing area shrank from 5 hectares per animal to about a tenth of a hectare.

Being part of Xilingol, Otindag suffered this fate, too. By the turn of the century, about 80 percent of its grasslands had turned into semi-desert. Worse, 33 percent of its land became home to mobile sand dunes, up from less than 2 percent in the 1960s.

As a natural consequence, the frequency and intensity of dust storms increased. Only one sandstorm had been recorded from 1930 to 1960. In the 1960s, it increased to one in every two years. And then in 2000 alone, the number jumped to 14. Experts believe Otindag to be a major source of the dust storms that hit Beijing, and even the two Koreas and Japan.

The CAS tried a scientific approach to reducing the number of dust storms in 2000. Jiang Gaoming, an ecologist with CAS's Institute of Botany, heads one of the five grassland restoration pilot projects funded by the CAS.

The team he led in Sholoon-Huhe County, a subdivision of Xilingol League, had a hard time trying to convince the villagers not to graze their livestock on 2,670 hectares of communal grassland even on an experimental basis. The area comprises about one-third of the village's total grassland and also its worst because it's used by all of the villagers.

But in the beginning the CAS team didn't have a clear idea how to restore the grassland, except the traditional way of growing trees and replanting grass. But "almost all the trees died because of low rainfall and competition from local plants," recalls Jiang. Once the trees and replanted grass died, the land became as arid as before. That was mid-July in 2002.

And then something happened, an accidental find, which saved Jiang. Orto's second son, Huhe-tog, told Jiang that a salt spring not tended to had grown grass that measured up to 1.5 meter. That gave Jiang an idea: "The best way to protect is to fence off the sand and let nature's unimagined power do the rest."

He could afford to carry out the experiment the next year because the grass had recovered well by then to yield more than enough hay to meet the needs of the village. Now after five years and the concerted efforts of the people of Bayanhoshoo, and the officials, ecologists, botanists and economists, the pastures are back to their original glory. As a result, dust storms have abated and wild animals such as hares, foxes and even wolves, long since considered lost, have returned to area.

That's precisely why Orto can make money by selling fodder. He expects to harvest about 40,000 kg of fodder this year and earn 24,000 yuan ($5,333) from it this winter. The annual per capita income of Bayanhoshoo has increased by 46 percent, from $315 in 2000 to $460 last year. Orto now has a large-screen TV set, tap water and a solar water heater.

Bayanhoshoo's success has prompted herdsmen in nearby villages to follow its example, and stop leading their livestock to graze on communal pastures.

This is a success story for Jiang, and his "hands-off" model has drawn the attention of experts with many international organizations. It won him some financial support from UNESCO, UN University and the International Center for Agricultural Research in Dry Areas, too. Also, an international conference on desertification will be held in Bayanhoshoo next month. "This shows that international experts agree with my idea and want to know more about it," Jiang says.

"Afforestation is a misguided concept because it doesn't take into consideration ecological principles," Science magazine quotes Oklahoma University ecologist Luo Yiqi as saying. "They set out to create forests in regions where forests naturally do not grow because of limited precipitation."

The tree of choice in such areas has been poplar. If watered properly, poplars grow rapidly, but without intensive care, they die. Sticks protruding from barren earth - dead poplar saplings - line many a road in Inner Mongolia. Once poplar groves are established in an area, the deep-rooted trees draw water from every possible source, lowering the water table and making it harder for native grass and shrubs to survive.

China's tree-planting campaign has successfully reforested large areas that receive ample rain, says Luo. But planting poplars in arid regions "does not help combat desertification".

"In some areas of Inner Mongolia, the goal is simply to plant trees, irrespective of whether or not they will survive. A lot of money is being poured into tree-planting with or without results," says Jiang. Despite large-scale tree planting, the forest coverage in Xilingol League is still less than 1 percent. Most of the trees have died.

Xilingol League deputy head Sechen-Bilig backs Jiang. "Even though we know there is no use planting trees, we have to do it because it's a mission," Sechen-Bilig says.

Some experts, however, believe severe degradation of land requires "human facilitation to restore the regeneration process". Anti-desertification specialist with the Institute of Forestry in Beijing Lu Qi says a "hands-off" approach means slow and spotty regeneration and it does little to stabilize sand dunes. In contrast, erecting sand barriers and planting soil-stabilizing shrubs promote the healthy recovery of native plants because shifting dunes smother new vegetation before they can take root, Science magazine quotes Lu as saying.

The Inner Mongolia forestry department declined to comment on any of the experiments or claims.

Jiang, however, says: "Ecologically, it is easy to control dust storms. Economically, it is difficult. We have to tie them together or we will never be able to reduce the number of dust storms." Villagers will finally return to the old way of increasing the number of their livestock to earn more if there's no other option.

Jiang invited social scientists, economists, ecologists and animal husbandry specialists to his team. He has helped introduce an "improved breed" of cattle, and his latest plan is to introduce chicken to the grassland.

"I am from countryside and I know what peasants need most. My ultimate dream is to help them live a wealthy and dignified life," Jiang says.

(China Daily 08/22/2007 page12)

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