Following the Jade Trail

Combining Confucius and Terry and the Pirates

Jade, said Confucius, is a virtuous gem: its warmth and luster typify charity, its translucence signifies sincerity, its sturdiness bespeaks courage, and it mirrors intelligence and wisdom. For centuries, the Chinese cherished jade; Emperors decreed their exclusive right to it. Now others have caught the fever: travelers, especially the Japanese and Americans, scour the jade markets in Hong Kong, Asia's jade capital, for items ranging from simple stones or carvings that sell for $20 to exquisite rings that can cost $120,000. Hong Kong's jade traffic increased sharply in 1977, with sales reaching into hundreds of millions of dollars.

For centuries, some of the very best jade--a mineral called jadeite--has come from Kachin state in northern Burma. Officially, Burmese President Ne Win's socialist government controls the mining and export of jade; in fact, much of the trade is operated by chieftains of eastern Burma's fiercely independent Shan state, Chinese warlords left over from Kuomintang forces that fled south from China in the late 1940s and various tribesmen in southern Burma who have never acknowledged the rule of Rangoon. All these groups long depended for most of their cash income not on jade but on the rake-off from the lucrative opium trade that originates in the mountain poppy fields of the Golden Triangle of Laos, Burma and Thailand. Now, with Thailand's sharp crackdown on drug smugglers, the jade trade is growing in importance.

For those who deal in it, jade is a gamble. What leaves Burma seems mostly to be rocks, occasionally dotted with a tantalizing protrusion of green. When the rocks reach Thailand, after a journey of up to three days by truck, mule, boat and human porter, Chinese buyers guess how much jade, and what kind, may lie hidden beneath the drab surface of each stone. A skillful or lucky buyer can pay perhaps $5 per Ib. for rock that may yield thousands of dollars in jade.

The more ordinary jade stays in Bangkok, where it may be carved into simple bracelets and rings. But the best goes on to Hong Kong, where each year upwards of 8,000 skilled artisans turn the gems tone into 2.5 million pieces of fine jewelry and sculpture. TIME'S David Lawton followed the smugglers' jade trail from Bangkok across the Thai border into the Terry and the Pirates country of southern Burma, where the rebel Karenni tribe holds sway as one of the principal groups of jade middlemen. His report:

The Karenni agent in Mae Sariang, a small Thai border town, has operated there for nearly 30 years, almost with the rank of honorary consul. A gray-haired gentleman, he emerges from his teakwood house in cardigan and sarong. Inside, on a wall, is a photograph of him shaking hands with a U.S. ambassador, and a U.S. medal for services to the hill tribes. "Goodness gracious," he says in mellifluous Raj English, when asked about the medal, "I don't know friend from foe. We've got to do or die. We've got to keep the wolves at bay." He seems accommodating, but not until the next day are we assured that it will be possible to cross into Burma in the company of a courier of the Karenni forces. The courier, when he appears, is smiling. On his left hand, set in a ring of soft orange gold, is a large, smooth, deep-green stone of jade.

On the bank of the Pai River, a narrow wooden boat with a long-shafted outboard motor is waiting. The water is low, the current rapid. At the frontier, the boat stops at an outpost of the Thai border-patrol police. An officer consults a rebel representative on the Burmese side. "Will the travelers be safe?" They will.

The motorboat proceeds downriver, past a huge overhanging rock cavern, past dense stands of high teak trees, into Karenni territory. This is virgin forest. Canopies of branches filter the sunlight hazy green. A large gibbon swings high, chasing a fluttering ultramarine bird. A little later, the boatman cuts his engine and touches a bank under a cliff hewn with steps. At the top is the teak bungalow of Maw Ria, 57, the elder statesman of the Karenni rebellion. Now an adviser to the Karenni Revolutionary Council, he explains patiently that the region was promised independence by the British and the King of Burma in 1875. The promise must be honored.

Just after daybreak the next day, another boat is waiting. A second craft carries six rebel soldiers, commanded by an officer who introduces himself as Saya (teacher) Bu. He explains that some 11,000 Ibs. of jade rock pass through the region each month. The rebels exact a modest tax: 15% of the estimated value. Their Chinese contacts, Bu concedes, are the people who trade in opium. "We ourselves never trade in opium," he observes pragmatically. "But sometimes, if they give us tax, we allow the Chinese to carry opium through our land."

A few kilometers farther, the boats stop at a place called Wei Phu Long, a key link in the Karenni jade connection. There is a dirt-floored thatch hut, open to the riverbank. Bu calls it a customs bureau, where the caravans from Shan and Kachin pay their transit tolls. During our visit, the hut is filled with plundered Burmese art: gilded wooden images, architectural ornaments and elaborate gold-embroidered tapestries from Buddhist temples. Explains Bu: "These things were left by traders. They will be taken across the border when a merchant arrives from Bangkok. Then we take our tax. Of course."

Collecting the tax is not always easy. Two weeks earlier, four long-tailed boats appeared at the Burmese-Thai border carrying close to two tons of jade rock. The Karenni, a contingent of 200 armed Chinese thugs and a company of Thai border-patrol police simultaneously appeared on the scene. After several tense hours of negotiation, an amicable split in the profits was agreed upon, and the jade entered Thailand.

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