Rather than being rebuilt, some places have simply vanished, writes CLIFFORD COONAN in Beichuan, Sichuan province
WALKING INTO Beichuan again, along cracked sections of road torn up by the 8.0-magnitude earthquake that ripped the heart out of Sichuan province, the first sight of the devastated town is as shocking now as it was a year ago.
It still looks as if a demented child had picked up a toy town and dropped it. But a new dimension to the devastation has emerged: much of the town is gone, covered by floodwaters, or left in a pile of rubble. Beichuan doesn't really exist any more.
Downtown, the flowers are blooming, giving off a strong, sweet fragrance. It is an incongruous scent, given that the last time I was here, the smell was of dead bodies.
It is also incredibly quiet. At certain points, relatives have left burning incense sticks to remember the dead of the town.
Buildings lean at crazy angles, as if they are about to topple, and fresh landslides have deposited huge boulders at the town's edge.
Inside the abandoned apartments, posters and paintings are still on the walls. Laundry is still hanging out to dry at one apartment. A clock is stopped at 2.28 - the time the quake struck on the afternoon of May 12th last year.
A large section of the town I visited last year simply no longer exists.
The towns and villages on the way here are packed with signs of solid reconstruction, but also of reminders of how much needs to be done.
Since the earthquake, there have been thousands of aftershocks and landslides, and the boulders by the roadside and freshly upturned earth on the mountainside show how the quake changed the landscape itself.
At regular intervals you see the blue and white banfang, the boardhouses that have become home to some three million people. Between 3.5 million and four million others are living in tents or makeshift accommodation.
The road winds along the side of the mountain, and the roadside is festooned with banners and slogans: "To the harmonious new Beichuan"; "Thank the Communist Party, Thank the Army, Thank the Motherland".
There are many new homes by the roadside, some of them very pretty.
Scaffolding holds up the older ones as strengthening work is carried out.
Intermittently, there are villages that are still in ruins.
The earthquake left almost 87,000 people dead or missing, injured 375,000 and left more than five million homeless.
A lot of the victims were children, including many at Beichuan middle school.
The Chengdu government gave its first official tally this week, saying the quake left 5,335 students dead or missing.
This is a sensitive issue. Many parents whose children died in the quake say school buildings were shoddily built and collapsed too easily when the quake struck, as adjacent structures stood firm.
Many believe the figure of 5,335 is too low. Previous estimates put the number at about 10,000, which would be proportionately correct, as students made up about 16 per cent of the population in the quake zone. Also, about 14,000 schools were damaged by the earthquake, with some ruined like the Beichuan school.
In Beichuan, a black banner says: "Show our deepest respect for the victims of the 5.12 earthquake."
Beichuan is being rebuilt down the road in a town called Anchang. Here, there is a road sign on one side of the road saying "Beichuan", while on the other side it says "Anchang".
Beichuan's residents have scattered all over the place to boardhouse villages in the area.
In one boardhouse town near Beichuan, former residents seem to be doing well. The atmosphere is cheerful.
"After the quake I lived in a tent for four months, then I moved here", says Gao Chaoyuan (39), a former Beichuan resident who is sitting outside the restaurant where she works, embroidering material for her daughter.
The restaurant is fully equipped, with roast chickens hanging in the window.
"I was in the street when the quake struck, I saw the buildings seem to rotate, then they collapsed. Thankfully my family is OK," says Gao.
"It's not so bad here. I live over there," she says, pointing at a boardhouse opposite, "and I work here. And there's a primary school; it's very convenient.
"The winter wasn't as terrible as we expected, the houses have insulation in the walls. There's a strong community feeling here."
She puts two tin cups of hot water out for visitors. There is a strong smell of Sichuan hot peppers coming from the kitchen behind her.
"I've no idea what the future holds," she adds. "We'll just move on. My children will study. I don't know if we'll have a home again. We may just live here."
Some residents are doing the same kind of embroidery to earn money, but there is a problem with unemployment.
Feng Yan (21) had been working in Mianyang but is now looking for work. "My house collapsed when I was away working. My cousin died in the school, though most of us are OK," she says.
In a makeshift market, Xi Zhenwu (60) tells of how he was at home when the quake started.
"I felt the tremor beneath my feet, and I started to run. I was three or four metres from the house when it collapsed. Me and my family were lucky, we all escaped," he says.
"All my family, expect for the small children who are at school, are looking for work."
Xi wants to rebuild his house in Beichuan county. But, he adds, "since the earthquake, the earth is not strong. When the earth is strong enough we will rebuild."