Hua'er: the blossoming folk songs of northwest China

Editor's note:

The United Nations has officially designated 44 Chinese traditions as world cultural heritage. This series examines how each of them defines what it means to be Chinese.

Across the rugged mountains and grasslands of northwest China, Hua’er — a vibrant tradition — echoes through the valleys.

Recognized by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization in 2009 as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, the centuries-old folk song form unites diverse Chinese ethnic groups with its raw, poetic expressions of love, labor and life.

Hua’er, which means “flower” in Chinese as its lyrics liken women to flowers, remains a living testament to the region’s cultural resilience.

Originating as early as the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644), Hua’er evolved from the daily lives of farmers, herders and travelers in northwest China’s Gansu and Qinghai provinces as well as the Ningxia Hui Autonomous Region.

With verses often using natural imagery to convey emotions, scholars liken its lyrical structure to the “Book of Songs” — the oldest existing collection of Chinese poetry.

Divided into regional styles like Hehuang, Taomin and Liupanshan Hua’er, the songs are sung in local Chinese dialects but reflect influences from Tibetan, Hui, Mongolian and other ethnic musical traditions.

Every summer, thousands gather at open-air Hua’er festivals to improvise duels of wit and melody. These events serve as platforms for cross-cultural exchanges and emotional connection among ethnic groups.

In Gansu’s Minxian County, the annual Hua’er Festival transforms hillsides into stages. Farmers belt out verses about love and hardship.

A female singer boldly expresses love:

“Cucumber vines climb the wall. I’m a master of singing Hua’er. How long I’ve been tangled with you, tangled and laid my heart bare.”

A male singer responds with equal passion:

“A pair of black oxen plows the herbal field. You hold feelings; I hold intent. Sooner or later, we will be together.”

The 69-year-old Dutch ethnomusicologist Frank Kouwenhoven has studied Hua’er for decades. Though he can barely understand the improvised Chinese lyrics, he is captivated by the performers.

“Their joy is contagious. It’s music that binds communities,” he noted.

Kouwenhoven established the European Foundation for Chinese Music Research to promote Chinese folk music and launched an academic journal CHIME.

For inheritors like Sa Lina, from Ningxia, preserving Hua’er is both a duty and a lifeline.

Born in a remote village, the 36-year-old began learning the songs as a child while tending sheep. Today, she teaches at Lanzhou University, where students master the distinct nasal tones and vibrato of Ningxia’s Hua’er.

“If we lose our dialect’s nuances, we lose the soul of Hua’er,” she said.

In the Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region, Ma Cheng, a famous Hua’er singer, blends Hua’er with the strums of the dutar (a Uygur lute), creating a fusion that resonates with younger audiences.

Zhang Yujie, another inheritor from Gansu, volunteers at primary schools, teaching children to dance to Hua’er rhythms.

While Hua’er thrives in rural settings, artists like Su Yang, a Ningxia-born musician, are reimagining it for modern ears. By mixing its high-pitched melodies with rock and electronic beats, Su has performed abroad.

“Hua’er isn’t a relic. It’s a conversation between generations,” he observed.

Today, Lanzhou University in Gansu and Changji College in Xinjiang offer courses, while festivals draw tourists worldwide.

“As long as there are mountains and hearts that ache to sing, Hua’er will never fade,” Sa said, as she prepared for her next class.