It is a scorching summer in Huocheng County, Yining City, northwest China's Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region. Sarim Airsha and his wife Zhang Jinhua are preparing lunch in their kitchen close to the green vineyard. They share the cooking: Sarim slices carrots into small pieces on the chopping board, while Zhang cleans mutton under the tap. Accompanying the couple is their 12-year-old daughter Barjie, who peels garlic.

In five months', Sarim, 41 and his wife, three years his senior, will celebrate their 15th anniversary, which has seen both frustrations and happiness.

Favorable impressions

Sarim and Zhang met each other in Sarburak Town of Huocheng in the summer of 1989. At that time, Sarim served as a junior officer at the local court, while Zhang was in charge of family planning with the town government.

It was a tough job for the girl, as there was neither public transport nor guaranteed security in the rural areas: she was even threatened by oral and physical intimidation from time to time. Sarim, who was responsible for assisting family planning, borrowed a motor tricycle from his friend and offered to help Zhang get in and out of the remote villages.

"He was kindhearted, ready to give me a hand and boost my courage at any time," Zhang recalls of their first encounters. "He was strong, energetic and handsome."

Zhang's sincerity also impressed Sarim. "She treated everyone on an equal basis, regardless of their nationalities."

As time went by, the two young people developed a passionate love that "could be severed by nothing," says Zhang.

"I was chased after by quite few Uygur girls, but I thought I was destined to meet and love her," Sarim says.

They made a formal engagement and informed their families of their decision. Zhang's mother was concerned that they may run into difficulties in the future and advised her to ponder over the marriage before jumping into it.

Zhang's father, who was a village party secretary for many years after he moved from Gansu Province to Xinjiang in the 1950s, was more open to the issue.

"He told me he would respect whatever decision I made, and I was relieved."

In contrast, Sarim was pressed by his mother. Her religious belief in Islam made it hard to accept a daughter-in-law of Han nationality, saying that they were "unable to live under the same roof."

The proposal was thrown into a deadlock, and Sarim went to Beijing University of Law and Political Science to pursue studies in the following years.

Their marriage was not held until December 8, 1995. "We decided to get married, despite my mother's opposition," says Sarim.

A Uygur-style wedding ceremony was held in a small restaurant. Zhang's parents showed up, but Sarim's mother refused to be present. Party secretaries from the county court and town government presided over their ceremony.

Like all the newly wed couples, Sarim and Zhang came to learn the arts of concessions in family life. "We do quarrel now and then, but the differences never arise from our family backgrounds. I respect her living habits and customs, and vice versa."

The couple mainly follows Uygur holidays, but when the Han festivals like Spring Festival and Mid-Autumn Day arrive, they will visit Zhang's family members.

Like most Chinese families, Zhang takes up the family chores, while her husband makes the final decisions on big issues like housing or their daughter's education. But Zhang says: "He is not a man of chauvinism. He cooks dishes very well, like chicken, noodles and fish."

Language is another obstacle that they have overcome. Although Sarim speaks Chinese very well, Zhang is learning Uygur under his help. "She can speak Uygur fairly well, if not fluently," Sarim said.

Zhang has even been given a Uygur name Arteng Guri, which is the literal translation of her Chinese given name Jinhua, which means golden flower in English.

The mastery of a new language has also helped Zhang's work as the director of Xinrong Residential Community in Huocheng.

Sarim has eight brothers and sisters, and Zhang has three, and they have a good relationship with all of them. Sarim has helped Zhang's younger brother to contract 100 mu's farmland to help him alleviate poverty status.

Two years' after the marriage, Sarim's elder brother was also married to a woman of the Yi ethnic group.

Breaking the knot

The year-long opposition from Sarim's mother was a shadow burdening the couple. "Being a son, I've the responsibility to take care of and keep filial to my mother, especially after my father passed away. If our marriage is not recognized by her, I'll feel guilty of conscience all the time," Sarim says.

The opportunity of change came in 2002, when their daughter was five, and the family went to the countryside to visit Sarim's mother.

"We were not sure about his mother's attitude. We assumed that she would turn us down or scold us harshly in our face. To our surprise, she burst into tears seeing her doll-like grand-daughter. After that, she came to accept my position in the family," says Zhang.

His mother's final acceptance has encouraged Sarim's confidence to move ahead with their family life. "We'll all the more cherish our life, which was not easily secured throughout the years. "

The Urumqi riots have not tainted their devotion to each other.

"The Uygur and Han nationalities have integrated for many years in Xinjiang. So long as the mutual understanding is achieved, we'll be guaranteed by solidarity," he says.

Zhang shares her husband's positive attitude. "I never thought that our marriage, grown out of our tiny dormitory, would be blessed all the years. Now, many of my friends and neighbors are envious of our happy life.

"The great future is awaiting ahead," she hands a piece of melon to Sarim, wiping sweat off his face.

(Xinhua News Agency July 12, 2009)