This picture taken on May 27, 2017 shows Trinley Norbu demonstrating how he climbs a house in Zhaba in the valley of the Yalong River in Daofu County of the Garze Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture. The small matrilineal Zhaba ethnic group of Sichuan province eschew monogamous relationships for traditional 鈥渨alking marriages鈥� 鈥� so-called since men typically walk to their rendezvous before slipping through their lover鈥檚 window. But the arrival of the internet, smartphones, livestreaming and popular Korean TV shows, along with improved transportation and education opportunities beyond the valley, have exposed the isolated Zhaba to other lifestyles. AFP
Zhaba, China 鈥� Nimble after years of practice, Trinley Norbu is used to hoisting himself three stories up the side of a stone house and through the window for a one-night stand in his southwest China community.
While other young men squire their love interests to dinner or a movie, Trinley Norbu has honed his climbing skills, long the key to successful courtship for men in the small matrilineal Zhaba ethnic group of Sichuan province.
The Zhaba eschew monogamous relationships for traditional 鈥渨alking marriages鈥� 鈥� so-called since men typically walk to their rendezvous before slipping through their lover鈥檚 window.
But the 37-year-old truck driver and others in the remote area on the edge of the Tibetan plateau lament that the tradition is waning, as women increasingly want a bit more commitment from a man.
The arrival of the internet, smartphones, livestreaming and popular Korean TV shows, along with improved transportation and education opportunities beyond the valley, have exposed the once isolated Zhaba to other lifestyles.
鈥淣ow the women especially have begun to want the same things as outsiders 鈥� fixed marriages, and financial assets such as a house or car,鈥� he said.
But an even more dramatic challenge looms on the horizon: one of the world鈥檚 tallest dams will soon flood the valley, forcing villagers to scatter as they relocate from ancestral homes.
鈥淚t鈥檚 heartbreaking. They鈥檝e turned our area upside down, and we don鈥檛 have any say in it,鈥� said Trinley Norbu, who is temporarily employed by the construction site.
His friend Khando Tsering stared up at the towering, unfinished support pillars of a highway that will soon halve travel times to the nearest city 鈥� and bring tourism to the once-pristine enclave.
鈥淭he economy will develop and people鈥檚 character will degenerate. Everything will be about money, and our local traditions will disappear,鈥� he predicted.
鈥淭hat鈥檚 just how things work in this era.鈥�
鈥楶eople as possessions鈥�
Walking marriages began disappearing in the 1980s as the government imposed strict family planning measures.
The new policy meant heavy fines for babies born without legal fathers, forcing Zhaba people to obtain government marriage certificates and identify 鈥� on paper at least 鈥� a single partner as a spouse.
That process introduced the idea of 鈥減eople as possessions鈥� and caused a rise in notions of jealousy, an emotion once rarely overtly expressed, according to a paper by Qinghai Normal University anthropologist Feng Min.
Since then, walking marriage has become less and less common. Feng鈥檚 2004 survey of 232 households found that only 49 percent of Zhaba households still practiced the tradition.
Children in such families are raised by their mother and her siblings in large, six-storey communal houses of yellowed stone on the lush green hillsides, with cavernous rooms too large for much light to penetrate.
Fathers might provide some financial support, but live with their mother.
鈥淚 don鈥檛 have a husband. Their father lives somewhere else,鈥� said 60-year-old matriarch Dolma Lhamo after a breakfast of yak butter tea and tsampa, roasted flour eaten by hand, as she led two daughters out to tend the family potato field.
Shopkeeper Pema Bazhu used to share a home with her mother, grandmother, sisters and uncles, but she recently chose to move out and live separately with her husband and two year-old son.
鈥淚t鈥檚 much more common now to see families living on their own as a unit,鈥� she said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 more convenient, and it鈥檚 better for raising children.鈥�
鈥業f she鈥檚 willing鈥�
Tsultrim Paldzone, 30, explained that when he and his friends were younger, they would snag tokens from girls they fancied on festival or market days, calling cards to be returned that evening during a nocturnal visit to her home.
鈥淚f she鈥檚 willing, then she鈥檒l run just a little bit less fast. If she鈥檚 really not willing, you won鈥檛 grab that token no matter how hard you try to steal it,鈥� he laughed.
Cars were uncommon then. He had once walked over 10 kilometers (six miles) to reach one lover鈥檚 home, starting before sunset and arriving after midnight.
Now no one in the small community 鈥� just some 13,624 people according to the latest 2010 census 鈥� lives more than a half hour鈥檚 motorbike trip away.
Trysts are arranged ahead of time on the popular cellphone messaging app WeChat, and the coy game of token-grabbing has mostly disappeared.
鈥淭here鈥檚 no challenge anymore; it鈥檚 definitely not as fun as before,鈥� the painter of temple frescos lamented.
Government bureaucracy, too, is making it more difficult for the Zhaba鈥檚 walking marriages.
Children born to parents without marriage certificates are not allowed 鈥渉ukou,鈥� all-important registration documents that allow them to access health care and schooling.
Today, even those who wish to continue with walking marriage resort to paying unmarried acquaintances or strangers to apply for the certificate with them, said Tsultrim Paldzone.
鈥淭he government won鈥檛 let you just do as you please.鈥�