(via Gemological Digest, Vol.2, No.4, 1989) Grahame Brown writes:
Abstract
Opal doublets have in the past been produced mainly to utilize material otherwise too thin for cutting solids. They were not normally produced for fraudulent purposes, and identification was simple, due to an even join between opal and backing. Today, a new and more sinister type of opal doublet has appeared. Produced by bonding a rock backing to an irregular piece of precious opal, the result is a stone which looks very much like Queensland boulder opal, even to the trained eye.
In this article, the author discusses both the history of opal doublets, as well as the latest incarnations, and describes useful techniques for recognizing these frauds.
Introduction
The opal doublet is a cabochon-cut composite stone. It consists of two components: a domed ro flattened top of precious opal and a base of dark colored, light-absorbing material.
While natural opal doublets can be cut from some precious opal that occurs as near parallel layers of either opal potch, opal-ironstone, -sandstone, or –mudstone, most commercially marketed opal doublets are manufactured products that have been deliberately assembled, preformed and polished by man.
Origin
Available evidence suggests that the assembled opal doublet of Australian origin. It was first devised and manufactured in 1897 by miner-lapidaries on the remote, arid north-west New South Wales opal field of White Cliffs, 1000 km north-west of Sydney. The reason why these 19th century opal miners chose to manufacture the opal doublet was one of simple economics: only about 5 percent of the production output at White Cliffs was gem quality white opal. So, a use had to be found for the many thin veins of precious opal that could not be used for cutting solid opal cabochons. The opal doublet, made by cementing a thin layer of precious opal to a backing of dark grey opaque potch, was the simple, yet economic, answer to the low yield of precious solid opal from the White Cliffs field.
Method of manufacture
Today, opal doublets are commercially made for at least three reasons. First, the mined precious opal may be too thin to cut a solid opal. Second, the opal may have such a pale body color that its play-of-color (and value) could be enhanced by backing it with a suitable dark colored light absorbing material. Finally, by adhering a suitable backing to a thin layer of opal, the resulting composite could then be used to imitate opal of much greater value and rarity.
Choice of opal
Opals suitable for doublet manufacture should display the following characteristics:
- Freedom from clearly visible flaws (cracks, crazing, webbing, sand or gypsum inclusions, unsightly potch bars).
- A reasonable transparency, allowing light to penetrate through the opal top to the light absorbing backing.
- A distinct and rather muted play-of-color. This play-of-color is enhanced by being strongly contrasted against the dark backing.
- Sufficient thickness of precious opal to allow a flat plane-of-attachment to exist between the precious opal top and the light absorbing backing.
Consequently, flatish fragments of white or other pale-colored jelly or crystal opal make the most striking opal doublets. The use of opaque whitish to grayish opal only creates dull, lifeless doublets that display a poor play-of-color.
Choice of backing
The best backing for opal doublets is opaque black potch from Lightning Ridge. Due to the rarity of Lightning Ridge black potch, other opaque black backings, such as black glass, black plastic, obsidian, and even black onyx have been used to produce opal doublets imitating black opal. Care should be taken when choosing black backings for opal doublets: a backing with a coefficient-of-expansion differing from that of precious opal (e.g. black onyx) could fracture the doublet if moderate heat is applied to the finished composite.
With increased demand for dark Queensland boulder opal as an alternative for the increasingly rare and valuable Lightning Ridge black opal, manufacturers have begun producing opal doublets intended to imitate Queensland boulder opal. The precious opal component of these doublets may consist of thin, flat segments of Queensland boulder opal, whitish crystal opal shell pseudomorphs from Andamooka (South Australia), translucent to transparent whitish opal from Coober Pedy, Mintabie (South Australia) or White Cliffs (NSW). Backing for these doublets includes ironstone, dark-colored sandstone, and mudstone, commonly associated with Queensland boulder opal. There exists also a composite backing made by incorporating crushed fragments of the above materials into a black pigmented epoxy resin plastic.
A black backing is unnecessary when a doublet is made only to provide thickness and strength to a thin sliver of precious opal displaying a valuable color pattern. In such cases, grey potch, plastic or glass usually suffices as suitable backing.
Choice of adhesives
To permanently affix the top and backing of an opal doublet, most manufacturers use an epoxy-resin adhesive that is pigmented by carbon. Setting times of these adhesives vary from 5 minutes to 24 hours.
Methods of identification
Conventional opal doublets are identified traditionally by observing the presence of:
- Three components: a top of precious, natural opal; a backing of dark colored potch opal, glass, plastic, ironstone, sandstone, mudstone or iron stone filled black epoxy resin; a thin layer of adhesive permanently joining the top to the backing of the cabochon.
- A flat, junction-plane between the precious opal cabochon top and backing. This junction can vary in thickness. It often has gas bubble inclusions entrapped in the adhesive.
- Included, somewhat squashed, bubbles within the junction-plane of the doublet. The visibility of these bubbles is increased when the epoxy resin is viewed through the transparent opal top with the aid of an intense fiber optic light source.
- Occasional evidence of a pigment layer used to darken the flat-ground undersurface of the precious opal top of the doublet.
- Evidence of lifting of the top of the doublet from its backing, if the components are poorly adhered.
It is more difficult to identify some of the recently manufactured doublets designed to imitate boulder opal. These imitations are characterized by:
- Very thin, non-planar junctions between the top and the backing of the doublet.
- Junctions that are relatively free of included bubbles within the epoxy resin.
- Backings that are cut from coarse-grained sandy Quilpie ironstone/sandstone, or dark fine-grained banded Winton mudstone. Some of these backings are also included by thin anastamosing veins of precious opal.
To differentiate these effective look-alikes from the natural Queensland boulder opal they imitate, gemologists must be prepared to examine closely the junction separating the two components of a suspect doublet. In particular, one should look for identifying visual characteristics of Queensland boulder opal, such as:
- An irregular epoxy resin-free junction between the precious opal top and the ironstone, sandstone, or mudstone base of the cabochon. No visual evidence of an adhesive bubble-included junction should be seen when this interface is examined through the natural top of the boulder opal cabochon. Fiber-optic illumination greatly assists a detailed examination of the junction of most opal doublets.
- Tongue-like projections of precious opal that penetrate the sedimentary rock base (matrix) of the cabochon.
- A cabochon base formed from dark colored sedimentary rock (sandstone, ironstone, mudstone) that does not contain black plastic matrix or included gas bubbles.
Conclusions
It is not difficult to identify conventional opal doublets, made by cementing with black epoxy resin a top of diaphanous light colored jelly or crystal opal to a backing of dark potch, glass, plastic, or sedimentary rock. A simple 10x hand lens should quickly disclose the tell-tale, uniformly thick planar junction that is a feature of these composite stones. Hand lens or low power microscopic examination of the junction of conventional opal doublets should reveal gas bubble inclusions and/or solid particulate fillers within its content of black epoxy resin adhesive.
It is somewhat challenging to distinguish cabochons of Queensland boulder opal from their newer-manufactured doublet imitations. This is because the adhesive-filled junction between the precious opal top and the ironstone, sandstone or mudstone backing of these doublets is extremely thin, highly irregular in profile, and is made much less conspicuous by incorporation of finely ground particulate matter in the black epoxy-resin adhesive filling the junction. Careful low power microscopic examination of the junction area is required to identify the distinctive features of this effective look-alike of Queensland boulder opal.
Monday, May 14, 2007
How Dr Williamson Nearly Missed Finding The Mwadui Diamond Pipe
2007: Here is a remarkable story of a diamond prospector of a different generation. This can happen even today.
(via Indiaqua 23 1979/4)
Unpalatable to Tanzanian pride as it must be it does seem as if the discovery of their greatest natural asset, diamonds, is owed to a combination of Irish independence and Canadian frustration. Irish because Dr John Thorburn Williamson was of that ancestory, and Canadian because logging n Quebec did not appeal to the future finder of the diamondiferous Mwadui diamond pipe.
It is also, it seems, a subject which an Italian called Signor Bondini prefers to dismiss as one consequence of Italian reverses in the last World War—since he was interned at the moment of his own discovery at Mwadui.
Mr G J du Toit’s unpublished manuscript states that Williamson “took to Geology by chance,” and obtained a B A degree with Honors. Post graduate work on Newfoundland minerals enabled him to achieve an M Sc degree in 1930, and subsequently a Ph D in 1933, as a result of a thesis on chromite. This work brought him to contact with the doyen of Canadian geologists, Dr Joe Bancroft, then Consulting Geologist to the fledgling Anglo American Corporation of S.A.Ltd. After a brief job with the Quebec Gold Mining Corp., Dr J T Williamson said au revoir to his family and sailed aboard the Italian liner “Rex” from New York to Cape Town.
On arrival at the Cape he took the Rhodesian Express to Bulawayo and joined the Bechuanaland Exploration Co Ltd being seconded to Loangwa Concessions (N.R) Ltd based at Rhodesia Broker Hill. It was here that he made a few small gold deposit discoveries 7 years later further north in Tanganyika. He also discovered that a little lime in a scotch and water took away the brackish taste.
Break with De Beers
Legend has it that Williamson fell out with the Anglo American Group in 1935 and he went doggedly on to trace diamonds in Tanzania. The truth is that he joined a company which was seeking a geologist—Tanganyika Diamond & Gold Development Ltd. This company operated three small diamond mines at Mabuki and Kizumbe near Shinyanga Plain, found in 1913 and 1926 respectively. The diamond content of these mines was not attractive. This puzzled Williamson who developed a theory that garnets and ilmenite found in diamondiferous deposits were quite different from garnets found without the presence of diamonds.
Unsatisfied with £55 per month Williamson left “Tanks” in 1938, and brought the Mabuki deposit for a few hundred pounds. He also acquired malaria and black water fever—and an Indian barrister’s interest, Mr I C Chopra, who called his new client “the gentleman from the bush.”
Following his geological hunches Dr Williamson began to take the lone prospector role seriously and one night he sat up all night in a truck waiting to peg his claim at dawn at Kizumbe. An Italian, Mr Bondini, in the vicinity, was also on the diamond trail, but he spent his nights more enjoyably in bed. Also more rewardingly, because by 1939 Williamson was in a mood to quit Tanganyika. He contemplated joining the military service, but before be could achieve that he had to pay various bills to Indian storekeepers. His German creditors had mostly been interned.
Somehow his debts to Indian storekeepers save him. He was able to retain only a few African prospectors and on 6th March 1940 James, son of Anton, brought on his truck to base camp a large piece of ilmenite from the village of Luhombo—from a trench actually dug by the Geological Survey of Tanganyika. Williamson looked deep and long at that ilmenite—often an associate of diamond. From the ilmenite a 2 carat diamond was extracted. And James was of that moment included in Williamson’s will—unbeknown to either men.
Enter and exit a Roman prospector
At dawn on 7th March Williamson drove hell for leather to the spot where James had picked up the ilmenite—a place called Mwadui, and then to the District Commisioner to apply, and obtain, an Exclusive Prospecting Licence. A few days later Williamson applied for claims as ‘discoverer”, to 3 square miles north-west of Luhumbo village, Mwadui. Who appeared at the District Commissioner’s office but the Italian, Signor Bondini, to protest on the grounds he was there first. He was dispatched in the most appropriate British manner by being arrested and subsequently interned as an alien. This seem sag geologically since Dr Williamson later acknowledged that the Italian was his chief rival and implied he knew a lot about Mwadui diamond deposits.
Williamson proceeded to peg with uncanny accuracy the limits of what turned out to be the world’s biggest diamondiferous pipe. To sisal and cotton were now to be added diamonds—Tangayika’s principal products. And to the fairly simple, pleasure-loving Dr Williamson diamonds found within his pegged area were to add a fiendish complexity. Prospecting revealed substantial diamond finds, which Williamson, trusting few, took personally to the Mwanza Branch of the Standard Bank. In Mwanza he took the opportunity to call on his lawyer, Mr I C Chopra. They discovered they shared an Irish heritage—for Chopra had gone to Dublin from Gurjanwala at eleven years of age before settling in East Africa 21 years later, where his intelligence and public spiritedness earned him the C.B.E…
Williamson becomes a limited company to Socialist acclaim
By 1942 Williamson Diamonds Ltd had been incorporated with a capital of £200000 (400 shared of £500 each), Chopra subscribing for 1, Williamson’s brother got 100 free and the doctor paid for the balance of 299. Williamson was running the show, even to the extent of listing the weight and number of diamonds recovered by sunset each day. He grew thin and irritable, not fat and prosperous in the capitalist tradition. By 1944 Dr Joe Bancroft of Anglo American was on the scene and on behalf of Sir Ernest Oppenheimer offered £2m to Williamson for outright control of the mine. Williamson refused. Thanks to Italian prisoners of war being employed on the mine, Williamson, who referred to them as “these industrious little men,” began to see that Williamson Diamonds Ltd had a major productive role to play on the diamond stage. This realization was simultaneously shared by Sir Ernest Oppenheimer in Johannesburg.
By 1946 the British Colonial Secretary Creech Jones had visited Mwadui and left convinced Williamson was almost a teetotaler and that nationalization of his mine would turn African people off socialist doctrine. So Williamson ran his mine roughly as he pleased. It was a boisterous era in which physical feats were socially applauded. Williamson would turn up nightly in European Club—seldom in the Asian or African counterpart. He also developed a penchant for Peter Scott bird studies of stormy seascapes as well as Russell Flint’s paintings.
The Williamson story
The mining industry does not relish loners. Teamwork is the catchword. But in the case of Canadian geologist Dr John Thorburn Williamson—the diamond industry accorded him a special respect, supreme loner that he was. Had he not only discovered but also owned an enormous diamond mine his name would possibly by now have been fairly well forgotten. But it is not forgotten and his story continues to stir many a geologist throughout the Western world as he takes his first tentative step into bush, desert, outback, or jungle.
For the following excerpts from Williamson’s last ten years Indiaqua is indebted to Mr Gabriel J du Toit, a South African mining man who for 10 years was closely associated with the ‘Doctor’ in the development of the Williamson Diamond Mine.
Part 1 in Indiaqua 9 described Dr J T Williamson’s origins, his start in Southern Africa, his break from De Beers and his amazing discovery in 1940 of the world’s biggest diamond pipe, 361 acres on the surface. By 1947 Dr John Williamson was feeling on top of the world. The price of diamonds was rising fast, the Williamson Mine diamonds were of high quality, and there were several hundred persons employed at Mwadui producing several thousand carats per month.
Bachelor status for man and mine
This called for a celebration and Dr Williamson, then aged, 44, flew south to Johannesburg, to recruit mining engineers and metallurgists, security experts and medical assistants for his mine. During his stay, contact was made with the Anglo American Corporation’s Geological Department. Their interest naturally centered on the dimensions and yield of the Mwadui diamond pipe. Dr Joe Bancroft, the doyen of Anglo American’s geologists, proposed a joint prospecting programme. This was linked with an offer to participate in the Williamson company, whereby the doctor would receive £750000. The loner’s instincts reacted and Williamson returned to the mine that bore his name—determined that it should continue to do so, without partners.
The next scare for Dr Williamson was the British Labor Party’s plan to nationalize the mine. Only a direct appeal to the Colonial Secretary, Mr Arthur Creech Jones, caused those plans to be shelved. This incident spurred Dr Williamson to redouble his efforts in exploring and developing the diamond mine. The fiasco of the British Government’s nationalized East African ground nut scheme would not be repeated with his diamonds. However, problems at the mine were not long in coming—security became a great headache, ‘over mining’ of rich areas was not appreciated by the Government mining inspectors, and for a brilliant geologist the revelation that the pipe contracted sharply—in fact at only 50 meters the 361 acres on the surface shrunk to a mere tenth, while at 75 meters deep the pipe had narrowed to a thin dyke—must have been deeply disappointing.
Dr Williamson disposed of the mine’s production of diamonds through the Diamond Corporation Ltd in London as a result of the agreement made in December 1947. The course of this contract did not run smoothly and at one time Williamson Diamonds Ltd received no revenue for 18 months because of disputes, arbitrations and misunderstandings that plagued the functioning of the agreement.
Dr Williamson succumbs
In 1956 Dr Williamson was found to have advanced cancer of the larynx. Distraught, he proceeded to Montreal to stay with his sister, Mrs Mary Miller. Depressed by the endless Canadian winter he flew to Australia to meet his friend Mr Albert Joris, who was shocked by his appearance. From Sydney Williamson journeyed to Japan, Hong Kong and Singapore in search of earth moving equipment. Then he decided to visit Johannesburg. Sir Ernest Oppenheimer sent his personal aide to the Langham Hotel suite to invite Williamson to Brenthurst, the Oppenheimer home. Dr Williamson declined.
Weighing only 100 lbs. the Doctor flew to Nairobi, and on to his beloved mine. With a scarf wrapped around his neck he would take rides at night around the mine, hiding from the eyes of thousands of his employees. On Jan 8th 1957, aged 50, Dr John Williamson died. Sir Ernest had died only a few weeks earlier in Johannesburg. Dr Williamson left all his assets to his family in Canada. He had never married. Shortly after Williamson’s death, Mr Harry Oppenheimer, in his first big deal, flew to Mwadui and successfully negotiated for the purchase by his group of 50% in Williamson Diamonds Ltd, the government of Tanganyika acquiring the other 50%.
His successor as Chairman of Williamson Diamonds Ltd was none other than Mr Harry Oppenheimer, until succeeded 15 years later by Mr Timothy Apiyo, Principal Secretary of the Tanzanian Ministry of Commerce & Industries. Mr George Hunt, who had been appointed General Manager in 1958, was replaced by Mr Samuel Lwakatare in 1973, who had obtained an M.Sc in engineering from Dr Williamson’s old McGill University, Montreal.
(via Indiaqua 23 1979/4)
Unpalatable to Tanzanian pride as it must be it does seem as if the discovery of their greatest natural asset, diamonds, is owed to a combination of Irish independence and Canadian frustration. Irish because Dr John Thorburn Williamson was of that ancestory, and Canadian because logging n Quebec did not appeal to the future finder of the diamondiferous Mwadui diamond pipe.
It is also, it seems, a subject which an Italian called Signor Bondini prefers to dismiss as one consequence of Italian reverses in the last World War—since he was interned at the moment of his own discovery at Mwadui.
Mr G J du Toit’s unpublished manuscript states that Williamson “took to Geology by chance,” and obtained a B A degree with Honors. Post graduate work on Newfoundland minerals enabled him to achieve an M Sc degree in 1930, and subsequently a Ph D in 1933, as a result of a thesis on chromite. This work brought him to contact with the doyen of Canadian geologists, Dr Joe Bancroft, then Consulting Geologist to the fledgling Anglo American Corporation of S.A.Ltd. After a brief job with the Quebec Gold Mining Corp., Dr J T Williamson said au revoir to his family and sailed aboard the Italian liner “Rex” from New York to Cape Town.
On arrival at the Cape he took the Rhodesian Express to Bulawayo and joined the Bechuanaland Exploration Co Ltd being seconded to Loangwa Concessions (N.R) Ltd based at Rhodesia Broker Hill. It was here that he made a few small gold deposit discoveries 7 years later further north in Tanganyika. He also discovered that a little lime in a scotch and water took away the brackish taste.
Break with De Beers
Legend has it that Williamson fell out with the Anglo American Group in 1935 and he went doggedly on to trace diamonds in Tanzania. The truth is that he joined a company which was seeking a geologist—Tanganyika Diamond & Gold Development Ltd. This company operated three small diamond mines at Mabuki and Kizumbe near Shinyanga Plain, found in 1913 and 1926 respectively. The diamond content of these mines was not attractive. This puzzled Williamson who developed a theory that garnets and ilmenite found in diamondiferous deposits were quite different from garnets found without the presence of diamonds.
Unsatisfied with £55 per month Williamson left “Tanks” in 1938, and brought the Mabuki deposit for a few hundred pounds. He also acquired malaria and black water fever—and an Indian barrister’s interest, Mr I C Chopra, who called his new client “the gentleman from the bush.”
Following his geological hunches Dr Williamson began to take the lone prospector role seriously and one night he sat up all night in a truck waiting to peg his claim at dawn at Kizumbe. An Italian, Mr Bondini, in the vicinity, was also on the diamond trail, but he spent his nights more enjoyably in bed. Also more rewardingly, because by 1939 Williamson was in a mood to quit Tanganyika. He contemplated joining the military service, but before be could achieve that he had to pay various bills to Indian storekeepers. His German creditors had mostly been interned.
Somehow his debts to Indian storekeepers save him. He was able to retain only a few African prospectors and on 6th March 1940 James, son of Anton, brought on his truck to base camp a large piece of ilmenite from the village of Luhombo—from a trench actually dug by the Geological Survey of Tanganyika. Williamson looked deep and long at that ilmenite—often an associate of diamond. From the ilmenite a 2 carat diamond was extracted. And James was of that moment included in Williamson’s will—unbeknown to either men.
Enter and exit a Roman prospector
At dawn on 7th March Williamson drove hell for leather to the spot where James had picked up the ilmenite—a place called Mwadui, and then to the District Commisioner to apply, and obtain, an Exclusive Prospecting Licence. A few days later Williamson applied for claims as ‘discoverer”, to 3 square miles north-west of Luhumbo village, Mwadui. Who appeared at the District Commissioner’s office but the Italian, Signor Bondini, to protest on the grounds he was there first. He was dispatched in the most appropriate British manner by being arrested and subsequently interned as an alien. This seem sag geologically since Dr Williamson later acknowledged that the Italian was his chief rival and implied he knew a lot about Mwadui diamond deposits.
Williamson proceeded to peg with uncanny accuracy the limits of what turned out to be the world’s biggest diamondiferous pipe. To sisal and cotton were now to be added diamonds—Tangayika’s principal products. And to the fairly simple, pleasure-loving Dr Williamson diamonds found within his pegged area were to add a fiendish complexity. Prospecting revealed substantial diamond finds, which Williamson, trusting few, took personally to the Mwanza Branch of the Standard Bank. In Mwanza he took the opportunity to call on his lawyer, Mr I C Chopra. They discovered they shared an Irish heritage—for Chopra had gone to Dublin from Gurjanwala at eleven years of age before settling in East Africa 21 years later, where his intelligence and public spiritedness earned him the C.B.E…
Williamson becomes a limited company to Socialist acclaim
By 1942 Williamson Diamonds Ltd had been incorporated with a capital of £200000 (400 shared of £500 each), Chopra subscribing for 1, Williamson’s brother got 100 free and the doctor paid for the balance of 299. Williamson was running the show, even to the extent of listing the weight and number of diamonds recovered by sunset each day. He grew thin and irritable, not fat and prosperous in the capitalist tradition. By 1944 Dr Joe Bancroft of Anglo American was on the scene and on behalf of Sir Ernest Oppenheimer offered £2m to Williamson for outright control of the mine. Williamson refused. Thanks to Italian prisoners of war being employed on the mine, Williamson, who referred to them as “these industrious little men,” began to see that Williamson Diamonds Ltd had a major productive role to play on the diamond stage. This realization was simultaneously shared by Sir Ernest Oppenheimer in Johannesburg.
By 1946 the British Colonial Secretary Creech Jones had visited Mwadui and left convinced Williamson was almost a teetotaler and that nationalization of his mine would turn African people off socialist doctrine. So Williamson ran his mine roughly as he pleased. It was a boisterous era in which physical feats were socially applauded. Williamson would turn up nightly in European Club—seldom in the Asian or African counterpart. He also developed a penchant for Peter Scott bird studies of stormy seascapes as well as Russell Flint’s paintings.
The Williamson story
The mining industry does not relish loners. Teamwork is the catchword. But in the case of Canadian geologist Dr John Thorburn Williamson—the diamond industry accorded him a special respect, supreme loner that he was. Had he not only discovered but also owned an enormous diamond mine his name would possibly by now have been fairly well forgotten. But it is not forgotten and his story continues to stir many a geologist throughout the Western world as he takes his first tentative step into bush, desert, outback, or jungle.
For the following excerpts from Williamson’s last ten years Indiaqua is indebted to Mr Gabriel J du Toit, a South African mining man who for 10 years was closely associated with the ‘Doctor’ in the development of the Williamson Diamond Mine.
Part 1 in Indiaqua 9 described Dr J T Williamson’s origins, his start in Southern Africa, his break from De Beers and his amazing discovery in 1940 of the world’s biggest diamond pipe, 361 acres on the surface. By 1947 Dr John Williamson was feeling on top of the world. The price of diamonds was rising fast, the Williamson Mine diamonds were of high quality, and there were several hundred persons employed at Mwadui producing several thousand carats per month.
Bachelor status for man and mine
This called for a celebration and Dr Williamson, then aged, 44, flew south to Johannesburg, to recruit mining engineers and metallurgists, security experts and medical assistants for his mine. During his stay, contact was made with the Anglo American Corporation’s Geological Department. Their interest naturally centered on the dimensions and yield of the Mwadui diamond pipe. Dr Joe Bancroft, the doyen of Anglo American’s geologists, proposed a joint prospecting programme. This was linked with an offer to participate in the Williamson company, whereby the doctor would receive £750000. The loner’s instincts reacted and Williamson returned to the mine that bore his name—determined that it should continue to do so, without partners.
The next scare for Dr Williamson was the British Labor Party’s plan to nationalize the mine. Only a direct appeal to the Colonial Secretary, Mr Arthur Creech Jones, caused those plans to be shelved. This incident spurred Dr Williamson to redouble his efforts in exploring and developing the diamond mine. The fiasco of the British Government’s nationalized East African ground nut scheme would not be repeated with his diamonds. However, problems at the mine were not long in coming—security became a great headache, ‘over mining’ of rich areas was not appreciated by the Government mining inspectors, and for a brilliant geologist the revelation that the pipe contracted sharply—in fact at only 50 meters the 361 acres on the surface shrunk to a mere tenth, while at 75 meters deep the pipe had narrowed to a thin dyke—must have been deeply disappointing.
Dr Williamson disposed of the mine’s production of diamonds through the Diamond Corporation Ltd in London as a result of the agreement made in December 1947. The course of this contract did not run smoothly and at one time Williamson Diamonds Ltd received no revenue for 18 months because of disputes, arbitrations and misunderstandings that plagued the functioning of the agreement.
Dr Williamson succumbs
In 1956 Dr Williamson was found to have advanced cancer of the larynx. Distraught, he proceeded to Montreal to stay with his sister, Mrs Mary Miller. Depressed by the endless Canadian winter he flew to Australia to meet his friend Mr Albert Joris, who was shocked by his appearance. From Sydney Williamson journeyed to Japan, Hong Kong and Singapore in search of earth moving equipment. Then he decided to visit Johannesburg. Sir Ernest Oppenheimer sent his personal aide to the Langham Hotel suite to invite Williamson to Brenthurst, the Oppenheimer home. Dr Williamson declined.
Weighing only 100 lbs. the Doctor flew to Nairobi, and on to his beloved mine. With a scarf wrapped around his neck he would take rides at night around the mine, hiding from the eyes of thousands of his employees. On Jan 8th 1957, aged 50, Dr John Williamson died. Sir Ernest had died only a few weeks earlier in Johannesburg. Dr Williamson left all his assets to his family in Canada. He had never married. Shortly after Williamson’s death, Mr Harry Oppenheimer, in his first big deal, flew to Mwadui and successfully negotiated for the purchase by his group of 50% in Williamson Diamonds Ltd, the government of Tanganyika acquiring the other 50%.
His successor as Chairman of Williamson Diamonds Ltd was none other than Mr Harry Oppenheimer, until succeeded 15 years later by Mr Timothy Apiyo, Principal Secretary of the Tanzanian Ministry of Commerce & Industries. Mr George Hunt, who had been appointed General Manager in 1958, was replaced by Mr Samuel Lwakatare in 1973, who had obtained an M.Sc in engineering from Dr Williamson’s old McGill University, Montreal.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Graff Unmistakably
2007: Here is a 101 course for beginners from Laurence Graff, one of the most famous and successful jewelers in the world.
(via Indiaqua, 49, 1988/1) Natacha Vassiltchikov writes:
“The secret of my success…”, he said with a slight smile, “I would say first, hard work; secondly, devotion to the industry; and thirdly, reinvestment of the profits into the business. And then, of course, my satisfaction lies in the feeling I have for the gem. I always think that if I’m good to the commodity, it will be good to me.”
In these few words spoken without the slightest hesitation, Laurence Graff, fortyish, of medium build, with piercing dark eyes and ready smile, has summed up the essential qualities which have enabled him—in less than thirty years—to become the leader a new generation of jewelers in the world. The only decoration of the simply furnished but comfortable room in which he receives me is a portrait of himself. He emanates an unassuming though confident awareness of the exclusiveness of both his business and his clientele. He moves quickly, speaks quickly, and seems to have mastered the art of answering questions in the shortest, most concise, and at the same time, most non-commital manner. Yet while visibly an extremely busy man, he retains the courteous affability of someone who is willing to allocate the same importance and time to everyone.
Laurence Graff entered the jewelry business at the age of fourteen when he became an apprentice in Hatton Garden. This early start was not in response to any kind of vocation. It was the result of a common decision by a humble family of English origin who considered the diamond industry a good way of making a living. “It could have been anything else.”
He made his beginning in repairing, and gradually but quickly climbed all the steps of the trade. He soon created and sold his first diamond ring, the profits of which allowed him to produce two more, then three, and so on….until he was able to buy polished stones. At seventeen and a half he had to set up his own business. He gained initial official recognition in 1973 when he became the first jeweler to be presented with the Queen’s Award to Industry. This was followed by a further tribute when he received the 1977 Queen’s Award for Export Achievements.
Today the House of Graff deals in London—its central establishment—Geneva, New York, Tokyo and specified in the brochures, “worldwide by appointment.” It organizes exhibitions from South America to the Far East, and stages in London private viewings for royalty and other celebrities. By operating worldwide, it has acquired a selective clientele whose taste for stones of high and rare quality it seeks to satisfy.
The bulk of the business consists naturally of diamonds. ‘It is harder to find really beautiful gems among other stones. Whereas with diamonds one can actually deal at the top. Besides, the diamond is translucent, brilliant….It is also fascinating, because of its unique variety of colors and shapes….”
“Diamonds are my hobby,” Laurence Graff adds. “I measure their value not only scientifically but also inwardly, through feeling, with the heart.” This respect and reverence which he expresses for top quality stones is best reflected in the style which he confers to his jewelry. Extremely classical, he adorns his pieces with the simplest of settings, giving full scope to their bare and natural beauty. He vehemently condemns the marking of stones (a recent practice designed to thwart theft): “Why damage a flawless gem?” He also refuses to adhere to changing fashions and trends. Despite the rise in price which big stones have recently undergone, he does not believe in enhancing the appearance of smaller pieces by fitting them into heavier mountings. “We do not cater to changing taste…We expect our clients to come and buy out style.” Laurence Graff relies therefore primarily on a select but top rate clientele, to which he offers an ever-fresh supply of gems going across the whole range of colors and shapes. “We have to be in the front line all the time.”
Achieving this goal requires not only diligence, dedication to and love the stone, but also a sound sense of judgment and discernment. Laurence Graff is the first to recognize that the value of a piece of jewelry is relative. As he explains, every diamond is—in comparative terms—of high price. For a humble person the first half carat is expensive. At the same time, for a rich man, the first thirty carats is expensive. “The real challenge for us is not whether our client can buy one diamond, but whether he can carry on buying diamonds.” The obvious way to encourage this development is to convince people that diamonds are a store of wealth. But even failing this—as, for instance, during the crash of 1980—Laurence Graff is confident that “attraction of great beauty is endless and no matter what the cost, there will always be a buyer for even the most ‘priceless’ of jewels.”
The 1980 collapse was indeed a major disaster which profoundly hurt the business. Not only did it damage the diamond’s image as a secure investment—De Beers’ famous slogan “a diamond is forever”—but it affected the availability and price of the big stones which remained locked until the jeweler’s safes and bank vaults until the prices started moving up again. Laurence Graff admits that for several years he himself did not buy a single D flawless one carat stone. Another adverse consequence of the crash which he deplores is the disruption of the orderly level of supply which De Beers had succeeded in maintaining until then. Although the cutters keep complaining about the shortage of large stones on the market, Laurence Graff himself believes on the contrary that a certain degree of scarcity is healthy. He is, in fact, worried that the present level of supply may have risen again too high.
But he does not see the Far Eastern market as replacing that of the Arab countries. Graff has five franchise boutiques in Japan, which mainly sell lower priced articles. Laurence Graff has often been asked how he can part with jewels into which he puts so much love and work. He admits that each one of them constitutes a little part of his life. “It is like a baby, it becomes one of the family. I choose the stones, create the piece, live with it for a while, and it has to be a one hundred percent success for me to make up my mind to sell it. By selling the best pieces, we get the best clients.”
For all this, Laurence Graff never completely detaches himself from his rarest and most important stones. Indeed he has had made up a collection of some twenty to thirty perfect reproductions of his finest gems. In a time consuming operation, he has sought to retain their exact color, shape, cut and number of facets. As he smilingly concludes: ‘You asked me whether I grew attached to the pieces I create. Well here now you can see—just how every attached I get.”
(via Indiaqua, 49, 1988/1) Natacha Vassiltchikov writes:
“The secret of my success…”, he said with a slight smile, “I would say first, hard work; secondly, devotion to the industry; and thirdly, reinvestment of the profits into the business. And then, of course, my satisfaction lies in the feeling I have for the gem. I always think that if I’m good to the commodity, it will be good to me.”
In these few words spoken without the slightest hesitation, Laurence Graff, fortyish, of medium build, with piercing dark eyes and ready smile, has summed up the essential qualities which have enabled him—in less than thirty years—to become the leader a new generation of jewelers in the world. The only decoration of the simply furnished but comfortable room in which he receives me is a portrait of himself. He emanates an unassuming though confident awareness of the exclusiveness of both his business and his clientele. He moves quickly, speaks quickly, and seems to have mastered the art of answering questions in the shortest, most concise, and at the same time, most non-commital manner. Yet while visibly an extremely busy man, he retains the courteous affability of someone who is willing to allocate the same importance and time to everyone.
Laurence Graff entered the jewelry business at the age of fourteen when he became an apprentice in Hatton Garden. This early start was not in response to any kind of vocation. It was the result of a common decision by a humble family of English origin who considered the diamond industry a good way of making a living. “It could have been anything else.”
He made his beginning in repairing, and gradually but quickly climbed all the steps of the trade. He soon created and sold his first diamond ring, the profits of which allowed him to produce two more, then three, and so on….until he was able to buy polished stones. At seventeen and a half he had to set up his own business. He gained initial official recognition in 1973 when he became the first jeweler to be presented with the Queen’s Award to Industry. This was followed by a further tribute when he received the 1977 Queen’s Award for Export Achievements.
Today the House of Graff deals in London—its central establishment—Geneva, New York, Tokyo and specified in the brochures, “worldwide by appointment.” It organizes exhibitions from South America to the Far East, and stages in London private viewings for royalty and other celebrities. By operating worldwide, it has acquired a selective clientele whose taste for stones of high and rare quality it seeks to satisfy.
The bulk of the business consists naturally of diamonds. ‘It is harder to find really beautiful gems among other stones. Whereas with diamonds one can actually deal at the top. Besides, the diamond is translucent, brilliant….It is also fascinating, because of its unique variety of colors and shapes….”
“Diamonds are my hobby,” Laurence Graff adds. “I measure their value not only scientifically but also inwardly, through feeling, with the heart.” This respect and reverence which he expresses for top quality stones is best reflected in the style which he confers to his jewelry. Extremely classical, he adorns his pieces with the simplest of settings, giving full scope to their bare and natural beauty. He vehemently condemns the marking of stones (a recent practice designed to thwart theft): “Why damage a flawless gem?” He also refuses to adhere to changing fashions and trends. Despite the rise in price which big stones have recently undergone, he does not believe in enhancing the appearance of smaller pieces by fitting them into heavier mountings. “We do not cater to changing taste…We expect our clients to come and buy out style.” Laurence Graff relies therefore primarily on a select but top rate clientele, to which he offers an ever-fresh supply of gems going across the whole range of colors and shapes. “We have to be in the front line all the time.”
Achieving this goal requires not only diligence, dedication to and love the stone, but also a sound sense of judgment and discernment. Laurence Graff is the first to recognize that the value of a piece of jewelry is relative. As he explains, every diamond is—in comparative terms—of high price. For a humble person the first half carat is expensive. At the same time, for a rich man, the first thirty carats is expensive. “The real challenge for us is not whether our client can buy one diamond, but whether he can carry on buying diamonds.” The obvious way to encourage this development is to convince people that diamonds are a store of wealth. But even failing this—as, for instance, during the crash of 1980—Laurence Graff is confident that “attraction of great beauty is endless and no matter what the cost, there will always be a buyer for even the most ‘priceless’ of jewels.”
The 1980 collapse was indeed a major disaster which profoundly hurt the business. Not only did it damage the diamond’s image as a secure investment—De Beers’ famous slogan “a diamond is forever”—but it affected the availability and price of the big stones which remained locked until the jeweler’s safes and bank vaults until the prices started moving up again. Laurence Graff admits that for several years he himself did not buy a single D flawless one carat stone. Another adverse consequence of the crash which he deplores is the disruption of the orderly level of supply which De Beers had succeeded in maintaining until then. Although the cutters keep complaining about the shortage of large stones on the market, Laurence Graff himself believes on the contrary that a certain degree of scarcity is healthy. He is, in fact, worried that the present level of supply may have risen again too high.
But he does not see the Far Eastern market as replacing that of the Arab countries. Graff has five franchise boutiques in Japan, which mainly sell lower priced articles. Laurence Graff has often been asked how he can part with jewels into which he puts so much love and work. He admits that each one of them constitutes a little part of his life. “It is like a baby, it becomes one of the family. I choose the stones, create the piece, live with it for a while, and it has to be a one hundred percent success for me to make up my mind to sell it. By selling the best pieces, we get the best clients.”
For all this, Laurence Graff never completely detaches himself from his rarest and most important stones. Indeed he has had made up a collection of some twenty to thirty perfect reproductions of his finest gems. In a time consuming operation, he has sought to retain their exact color, shape, cut and number of facets. As he smilingly concludes: ‘You asked me whether I grew attached to the pieces I create. Well here now you can see—just how every attached I get.”
Life's Lessons Learnt On The Sidewalk
(via Times News Network) Nikhil Hamrangani writes:
It is a regular evening on the Marine Drive. People are out with their walkman and Ipod. Couples on the parapet are locked in embrace. Everything is just as it should be here. But, across the road, is an unusual sight. On the sidewalk near Hotel Ambassador, in the dim light from a jewellery store, street children are sitting on newspapers. These kids are probably the same urchins who tug at your shirt to sell magazines, flowers or just utter the familiar line: "I am hungry." But, here on the sidewalk, they are learning. This is the transient classroom of Hamara Footpath, an informal group of young boys and girls who want to do something for urchins.
At the helm of Hamara Footpath is its founder, 24-year-old Shubhangi Swarup. "It is an open community effort where people from all walks of life are encouraged to step in and engage themselves with the street kids in any manner that is helpful," she says. Thrice a week, from 7.30 pm to 9 pm, volunteers assemble on the footpath facing a jewellery showroom and interact with the kids.
Some take it upon themselves to teach the kids Basic English and mathematics. Others bring with them colouring books and pencils or sing and dance along with the children. And, every few months, Hamara Footpath takes the children to films, circus or on a picnic. Last Sunday, for instance, they went to the zoo in Byculla. There has even been a football session at Oval Maidan, a Christmas party, and a paper-making workshop.
"The development of a child is a holistic process," Swarup says. "Just sponsoring their education or putting them in a home is not enough. They also need personal time, attention and love which is what we are here for," she adds.
The sidewalk classes see about 25 kids with five to 10 volunteers, picnics attract over 50 children, including a few of their street-dwelling parents. Money for such outings is raised by volunteers from peers by way of e-mails and oral communication. But it does not end there. Nearby chemists, general practitioners and shopkeepers also offer a helping hand by sponsoring medicines or performing medical check-ups.
Volunteers come from diverse backgrounds. Swarup did an M.Sc in violence, conflict, and development from the University of London. 24-year-old Taha Jodiawala runs a family business of construction products. ‘‘Hamara Footpath quashed my misconceptions about street children and the poor after I spent time and unwound with them,’’ he says. Then there’s 28-year-old graphic designer Nupur Shah, who is endearingly referred to as Dupar Didi by several children. She teaches children art and craft.
And, apart from the regulars — comprising IT professionals, dentists and doctors — passersby, too, often join the cause after observing Hamara Footpath in action. "Each volunteer with his or her unique thoughts contributes in a unique way, seeing a problem where the others have seen none," Swarup says.
Hamara Footpath’s success has even garnered the attention of groups in Chennai and Kolkata who wish to extend Hamara Footpath there and continue its mission.
Today, with more than 18 million kids on the street, India has the highest concentration of street children in the world. And the number is growing. Many of these children die young for want of simple care. Many of those who survive are consumed by the city’s underbelly. Hamara Footpath offers more than what is tangible. "To look at us as a group promoting education is a dry way of looking at it. Rather, our objective is to generate an interest in learning." says Swarup.
More info @
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/Lifes_lessons_learnt_on_the_sidewalk/articleshow/2039449.cms
It is a regular evening on the Marine Drive. People are out with their walkman and Ipod. Couples on the parapet are locked in embrace. Everything is just as it should be here. But, across the road, is an unusual sight. On the sidewalk near Hotel Ambassador, in the dim light from a jewellery store, street children are sitting on newspapers. These kids are probably the same urchins who tug at your shirt to sell magazines, flowers or just utter the familiar line: "I am hungry." But, here on the sidewalk, they are learning. This is the transient classroom of Hamara Footpath, an informal group of young boys and girls who want to do something for urchins.
At the helm of Hamara Footpath is its founder, 24-year-old Shubhangi Swarup. "It is an open community effort where people from all walks of life are encouraged to step in and engage themselves with the street kids in any manner that is helpful," she says. Thrice a week, from 7.30 pm to 9 pm, volunteers assemble on the footpath facing a jewellery showroom and interact with the kids.
Some take it upon themselves to teach the kids Basic English and mathematics. Others bring with them colouring books and pencils or sing and dance along with the children. And, every few months, Hamara Footpath takes the children to films, circus or on a picnic. Last Sunday, for instance, they went to the zoo in Byculla. There has even been a football session at Oval Maidan, a Christmas party, and a paper-making workshop.
"The development of a child is a holistic process," Swarup says. "Just sponsoring their education or putting them in a home is not enough. They also need personal time, attention and love which is what we are here for," she adds.
The sidewalk classes see about 25 kids with five to 10 volunteers, picnics attract over 50 children, including a few of their street-dwelling parents. Money for such outings is raised by volunteers from peers by way of e-mails and oral communication. But it does not end there. Nearby chemists, general practitioners and shopkeepers also offer a helping hand by sponsoring medicines or performing medical check-ups.
Volunteers come from diverse backgrounds. Swarup did an M.Sc in violence, conflict, and development from the University of London. 24-year-old Taha Jodiawala runs a family business of construction products. ‘‘Hamara Footpath quashed my misconceptions about street children and the poor after I spent time and unwound with them,’’ he says. Then there’s 28-year-old graphic designer Nupur Shah, who is endearingly referred to as Dupar Didi by several children. She teaches children art and craft.
And, apart from the regulars — comprising IT professionals, dentists and doctors — passersby, too, often join the cause after observing Hamara Footpath in action. "Each volunteer with his or her unique thoughts contributes in a unique way, seeing a problem where the others have seen none," Swarup says.
Hamara Footpath’s success has even garnered the attention of groups in Chennai and Kolkata who wish to extend Hamara Footpath there and continue its mission.
Today, with more than 18 million kids on the street, India has the highest concentration of street children in the world. And the number is growing. Many of these children die young for want of simple care. Many of those who survive are consumed by the city’s underbelly. Hamara Footpath offers more than what is tangible. "To look at us as a group promoting education is a dry way of looking at it. Rather, our objective is to generate an interest in learning." says Swarup.
More info @
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/Lifes_lessons_learnt_on_the_sidewalk/articleshow/2039449.cms
The Muppet Movie
Memorable quote (s) from the movie:
Fozzie (Frank Oz): You can come with us.
Gonzo Dave Goelz): Where are you going?
Fozzie (Frank Oz): We're following our dreams!
Gonzo (Dave Goelz): Really? I have a dream, too.
Fozzie (Frank Oz): What?
Gonzo (Dave Goelz): You might think it's stupid.
Fozzie (Frank Oz): No.
Gonzo (Dave Goelz): Well, I want to go to Bombay, India to become a movie star.
Fozzie (Frank Oz): You don't go to Bombay to become a movie star. You go where we're going, Hollywood.
Gonzo (Dave Goelz): Well, sure, if you want to do it the easy way.
Fozzie (Frank Oz): You can come with us.
Gonzo Dave Goelz): Where are you going?
Fozzie (Frank Oz): We're following our dreams!
Gonzo (Dave Goelz): Really? I have a dream, too.
Fozzie (Frank Oz): What?
Gonzo (Dave Goelz): You might think it's stupid.
Fozzie (Frank Oz): No.
Gonzo (Dave Goelz): Well, I want to go to Bombay, India to become a movie star.
Fozzie (Frank Oz): You don't go to Bombay to become a movie star. You go where we're going, Hollywood.
Gonzo (Dave Goelz): Well, sure, if you want to do it the easy way.
On The Future
Gabi Tolkowsky writes:
We’re in a time of big changes. There have been so many discoveries; we have to stop for reflection. There is a lack of young people cutting and there is a disappearance of master cutters, who are not being replaced fast enough. Times are not easy, so younger people are taking fewer risks. They don’t jump in without thinking about it first. But we will have new technology and marketing that will be available to a new generation.
We’re in a time of big changes. There have been so many discoveries; we have to stop for reflection. There is a lack of young people cutting and there is a disappearance of master cutters, who are not being replaced fast enough. Times are not easy, so younger people are taking fewer risks. They don’t jump in without thinking about it first. But we will have new technology and marketing that will be available to a new generation.
Burma’s Jade Trail
2007: I think Hpakan will remain the same for the next 500 + years.
(via Gemological Digest, Vol.2, No.4, 1989) Bertil Lintner writes:
Abstract
There are few areas in the world which offer as much fascination to the gemologist as Upper Burma. Throughout history this region has been off limits to outsiders. This situation was merely perpetuated with the coming-to-power of the xenophobic Ne Win regime in 1962. Since that time eyewitness accounts have been few and far between. This is indeed unfortunate, for Upper Burma contains two of the planet’s premier gem deposits: ruby/sapphire mines at Mogok and the world’s only jadeite deposits of consequence near Mogaung.
The following article is based on the author’s lengthy journey through Burma’s Kachin State. He gives a fascinating account of the jade trade, describing the often romantic political and legal complexities surrounding the marketing and distribution of the gem known to Chinese as “the stone of heaven.”
There may not be many places in Southeast Asia where people are prepared to pay US$100 for a bottle of Hennessy cognac or French champagne, $10 for a pint of beer, $3 for a bowl of noodle soup, and over $130 for a pair of running shoes from South Korea. But exorbitant prices seem to matter little at Hpakan in northern Burma, where some people are said to have become overnight millionaires by accidentally unearthing a big green boulder while digging latrines outside their houses.
Described as a mini “Hong Kong” by many visitors, Hpakan, the “jade capital” of Burma’s Kachin State, is reputed to have a much wider and even more exclusive variety of contraband goods than the famous night market in Mandalay. Perfumes from Paris, American cigarettes, tinned New Zealand butter, Australian cheddar and German pressure cookers—anything and everything is available at freewheeling Hpakan.
Thousands of fortune seekers flock to the jade mines every year, ranging from affluent Chinese laopans, or bosses, from Mandalay, Rangoon, Bangkok and Hong Kong, to teenagers and people in their early twenties, all with dreams of striking it rich.
“It’s a very special atmosphere there. The gambling fever affects everyone and people live in perpetual presence,” said one young Kachin student who had spent his summer holiday searching for jade at Hpakan:
“Anything goes. Young boys and girls meet and build huts in the forest, where they stay and dig together. Even married people seem to forget their marital ties as soon as they have crossed the Uru Hka river.”
The jade diggers usually fall into two categories. They are either seasonal migrants—farmers, workers, students, and government employees—or full-time professionals.
Officially, the Burmese government allows jade mining only at three places: Hpakan itself, and at the neighboring villages of Waje Maw and Sanchyoi. There, the work is carried out by government-employed diggers who receive a monthly salary plus a 10-20% commission on any high quality jade they manage to find. That jade is later sold to international buyers at the annual government-organized extravaganza at the Inya Lake Hotel in Rangoon.
But, given the vast amounts of money in circulation, it is hardly surprising that the laopans, and even private diggers, can bribe the local officials who are more than eager to get their share of Hpakan’s fortunes. It is even said that big Hong Kong-based jade companies have their own, secret representatives at Hpakan to supervise the work, organize the buying, and hire agents for transporting the boulders out from the mining areas.
Local people with experience in jade mining told this correspondent that Burmese Army officers go looking for ‘illegal diggers—and even shoot them if they cannot pay the demanded fees:
“If the people killed have only a small amount, the officers keep it for themselves. But if they have a lot of jade, it’s difficult to hide and so the army people have to hand it over to the government. That jade also ends up at the Inya Lake Hotel,” charged one source from Hpakan.
Corruption in Burma—a country which virtually lives off smuggling and black market trade—is by no means confined to Hpakan, but the situation there is aggravated by the immense wealth of the place, and the fact that some major jade syndicates are reputed to be connected with drug smuggling rings. Several big traders are said to bring jade out of Hpakan—and local hard currencies, such as opium and heroin, in to finance the purchase of jade at the mines.
Like most other towns in Kachin State, Hpakan is supplied by convoys of lorries (F.E.E.R, 28 May 1987) which move with tight security because of fear of ambushes which are frequently launched by the rebel Kachin Independence Army (KIA). These convoys carry daily necessities, arms and ammunition for the Burmese Army, and, for a fee, various kinds of contraband, according to Hpakan souces.
The rampant graft and corruption at Hpakan could be the reason why army units are deployed there on a rotational basis. One battalion of government troops never stays more than six months in the area—enough time for an officer to make a fortune, but not too long to let rivalry erupt between him and his colleagues, who are waiting for their turn of duty at the jade mines.
However, disputes between army officers reportedly do occur every now and then. The most serious clash in recent years erupted between some officers from the Myitkyina-based 29th battalion, which was stationed at Hpakan for six months during 1985, and the then commander of the northern command of the Burmese Army, Brig Gen Lazum Kam Hpang. The latter, a Kachin himself, had severely reprimanded the officers from the 29th battalion for alleged maltreatment of Kachin civilians in the jade mines area, even threatening to punish them. It all ended in a shoot out at a coffee shop in Myitkyina on November 16, 1985; Brig Gen Lazum Kam Hpang was fatally wounded and died in the hospital shortly afterwards.
At first, the local authorities put the blame on the Kachin rebels in the KIA, but when no substantial evidence could be presented to support that allegation, the whole story was quickly hushed up, and it went unreported in the government controlled Burmese media. Army deployment in the jade mining region is heavy, but nevertheless confined to Hpakan town, and the government controlled jade mines of Waje Maw and Sanchyoi. In addition, a company size contingent is always based at the Lung Hkang junction, where the road to Hpakan branches off to Kamaing in the Hukawng Valley. The surrounding hills and the countryside—where most jade mines are located—including the famous mines at Tawmaw north of Hpakan, have long been controlled by the KIA.
The Kachin rebels first occupied parts of the jade mine area in 1963, and tax on the trade as well as yearly licenses, or so-called digging tickets have since been a main source of income for the KIA. The rebel army maintains a number of checkpoints around the mines—including one on the main Lung Hkang Kamaing motor road—where a 10-30% tax is levied on the jade which merchants bring out from the area.
A Kachin rebel taxation office told this correspondent that yearly takings, including tickets at the KIA toll gates around Hpakan amount to Kyats 8-10 million—but he added that only 25% of the jade may pass through the rebel checkpoints:
“The most precious pieces are smuggled out, and the total value of the jade extracted from the Hpakan area could be as much as Kyats 100 million a year,” the officer said.
The real profit, however, is made when the jade reaches the Thai border, usually the first destination outside Burma on the long smuggling route from Burma’s Kachin State to Hong Kong, the world’s main marketing center for jade. Prices at the Thai border are said to be five to ten times as high as in Hpakan, and sometimes even more if the jade is of unusually good quality. But before the jade comes that far it has to pass through many stages, involving more bribes to government officials, and additional tax to other rebel groups along the way through Burma to Thailand.
The clandestine representatives of the international jade syndicate at Hpakan—who are not in a position to evade bribes, but who seldom pay tax to the KIA—are reported to bring most of their cut and uncut jade boulders down the Uru Hka river, in a westerly direction towards Homalin on the Chindwin river. In this way, they bypass the KIA’s checkpoints on the Kamaing road and south of Hpakan.
Usually, blocks of jade are tied to rafts or small country boats for the downriver journey to Homalin. There is only one Burmese Army outpost along this route—at Nawngpu-awng—and bribes ease the way here as well as in Hpakan. From Homalin, the jade continues by steamer down the Chindwin, or hidden in paddy baskets and under heaps of straw on bullock carts, until it reaches the railhead of Monywa. From there, rail and lorries take over for the onward trip to Mandalay, Taunggyi, and even as far south as Rangoon and Moulmein, depending on the final destination of the cargo.
Along the way to Monywa, a small percentage of the jade is diverted to India via the Tamu-Moreh border market in the Manipur State. This border crossing point is a main center for the contraband trade between Burma and India, but the demand for jade is not high among the Indians; the customers on that side are the 40000 or so ethnic Chinese who live in Calcutta, and a few other places in eastern and northeastern India.
An elaborate network of local agents, who usually have connections among themselves even if they work for different syndicates, are said to be responsible for the various stages along the routes. One group may take care of the Hpakan-Mandalay section, another would be in charge of the stretch from Mandalay to Taunggyi, Rangoon or Moulmein, and a third party would ensure that the goods are delivered across the border in Thailand, or sometimes by boat from Moulmein to Penang in Malaysia, or even on to Singapore.
During the last leg of the journey, before reaching the Thai border, some traders have to pay transit fees to the various insurgent groups there—the Karen rebel army if the goods are going south to Bangkok, the Karenni army if the destination is Mae Hong Son and Chiang Mai via Loikaw in Kayah State.
But these minor routes would be used by smaller traders only; most of the border between Thailand and Burma’s Shan State is controlled either by remnants of the Nationalist Chinese Koumintang, or by Chang Shee-fu (alias Khun Sa) and his powerful private army. Both groups are dominated by ethnic Chinese businessmen who run their own jade syndicates—and mercenary armies across the border with Burma.
The jade trade, which has brought a fair amount of the present wealth and well being to Chiang Mai, is seen by some observers as potentially even more lucrative than the closely connected drug trade, which sometimes is carried out by the same syndicates. That is becoming more important now when international police agencies in Thailand are stepping up their drives against narcotics smugglers. Unlike heroin, jade becomes a legal commodity once it has crossed the international frontier.
Running the gauntlet into Thailand is becoming tougher, and while most heroin refineries still appear to be located near the Thai-Burmese border, increased police supervision in Thailand is seen by many observers as the reason why more and more drugs now make a U-turn near the frontier, back into Burma and along new ones through that country.
New smuggling routes exist along which both jade and heroin pass through central Burma—where international police control is none existent—down to the Tenasserim coast. Well informed sources assert that it is not difficult to bring any kind of goods through Burma—if one can afford to pay the price.
Small traders reportedly deposit their goods with the policemen who check the passenger baggage on the Myitkyina-Mandalay and Mandalay-Rangoon trains; it is also possible to leave the contraband with the train driver, these sources say.
The fee here would not be more than a few thousand Kyats, or less than 10% of value of the goods, which can be heroin, raw opium or jade. Bigger traders, though, need more sophisticated solutions to the problem. By bribing government officials, they can obtain letters of introduction stating that they are intelligence agents on duty, and that their luggage, therefore, should not be checked. People issuing these letters range from local army officers to government ministers, the sources say, and the fee depends on the authority of the official in question and the solvency of the individual trader. Other certificates can be more cryptic, stating that the bearer should not be recruited as a porter to carry arms and ammunition for government troops—a common practice whenever the Burmese Army launches operations against country’s many insurgent groups—which indirectly means that he is an important person. Bearers of such certificates have assured this correspondent that their vehicles are never searched by the police or the army.
But now it seems that recent events along the Sino-Kachin border may change all this and drastically alter the entire network of underground trade through Burma down to Thailand, and to Malaysia and Singapore. As a result of the rapid modernization drive launched by Deng Xiaoping in China, baggy trousers and old Mao jackets are losing their former popularity—and jade is back again. According to one source along the Sino-Kachin border:
“Previously, the only decoration Chinese women could wear were red Mao badges. Now, also the Chinese in mainland China want to set off the beauty of their women as the overseas Chinese do. Jade is undergoing a renaissance in the People’s Republic.”
Buyers from Peking and Shanghai recently have come down to the border between China and Burma’s Kachin State, and they are reported to be gradually improving their knowledge, almost matching the Chinese jade merchants of pre-revolutionary days. Most of this jade seems to be earmarked for the domestic market, while some gemstones, jewelry and carvings are sold in Hong Kong via the many emporia the Chinese government maintains in the still-British territory.
The exact amount of jade now being sent to China is difficult to determine, and as far as the value goes, it may not exceed five percent of the total output at Hpakan. But it is increasing steadily, since it is a much easier route than down to Thailand.
This correspondent saw convoys of jade-laden elephants and mules winding their way up the steep mountain passes along the Sino-Kachin frontier, and there was little doubt that the routes of the former jade caravans to Tengchong in Yunnan Province were open again. The most frequently used routes lead from Hpakan to the KIA-controlled border settlements of Hkala Yang, Pa Jau and Loije. A smaller amount reaches China via Kambaiti Pass to the north, which is controlled by the Burmese Communist Party (BCP). All three aforementioned gates are in Kachin State—but most jade goes from the center at Mandalay via Lashio to Juili north of the Shweli border river in order to avoid the rebel tax gates.
The difficulty in bringing profitable goods other than jade to China could explain why many traders still prefer the much longer and more risky journey down to Thailand. One source also pointed out that the traders do not want to work only; they also want amusement:
“In Thailand, there are massage parlors and nightclubs; in China there is nothing like that yet. It’s more fun to spend your money in Chiang Mai than in Juili or Tengchong.”
But even when taking this into consideration, it is nevertheless not far-fetched to assume that the direct routes to China are destined to become more important, especially when Hong Kong returns to Chinese hands in 1997. Whether that will severely affect the jade trade with Thailand remains to be seen, but, without doubt, that route will inevitably lose much of its present significance. If that should prove to be the case, the drug syndicates which are based along the Thai-Burmese border may also be affected. Without jade as a supplementary, and complementary, commodity, the heroin trade will become less profitable and more difficult to continue effectively, some observers suggest.
“Jade is popular in China now. But neither the Chinese authorities, nor the Kachin rebels who tax the trade, would allow heroin to come along with it. The Chinese welcome green jade, but not the white powder.”
Gemologists distinguish two types of jade: jadeite and nephrite. The origin of the word jade is believed to be the expression piedra de ijada of the Spanish Conquistadores, which means stone of the side or flank. Wearing jade next to one’s kidney or liver was believed to provide healing benefits. Similarly, nephros is the Greek word for kidney, and this led to the term nephrite.
One difference between these two species is that jadeite is a vitreous and shiny stone, while nephrite has a more oily or waxy finish. Nephrite is also called green stone in New Zealand, where the native Maoris carved it for fish hooks, knives, needles and war clubs—and for religious objects, or tikis, which were worn for decoration and spiritual protection.
The Aztecs and Mayans of Central America revered the beauty of both jadeite and nephrite, and vast quantities were taken away by the Conquistadores when they occupied these ancient empires. Fair quality jadeite has been found in Guatemala, but the location of the original Mayan Mines still remains a mystery. Small quantities of jadeite have also been found in the USSR, Japan, and in California in the US.
But, it is the Kachin Hills of northern Burma which for centuries have been the world’s only supplier of top quality jadeite. The discovery that fine green jadeite occurred in the Kachin Hills is said to have been made accidentally by a Yannanese petty trader in the 13th century. The story runs that when about to return home from a trading trip to northern Burma, he picked up a stone to balance the load of his mule. It proved to be jade of excellent quality, and subsequently a large party returned to procure more. These merchants were unsuccessful, however, as no local people were able to tell them where this kind of stone could be found.
Several more missions came from China, but they were equally unsuccessful. The keenness of the Chinese to locate the jade deposits was not difficult to understand; nephrite jade had been known and appreciated in China from early times in history. And to the Chinese, jade was not just another stone—protective qualities were also attributed to it. Many Chinese children, even today, wear a kind of jade padlock around their necks to protect them from diseases. One type of Chinese nephrite is known as mutton fat, having a yellowish white color. Another variety is called chicken bone and it has a slightly lighter hue. Nephrite most commonly occurs in a green color. But even the finest nephrite is no match for the emerald green jadeite which the Yunnanese trader had brought back from the Kachin Hills.
The final discovery of the jade mines came after 1784, when centuries of hostilities between the traditional enemies, Burma and China, were terminated. Adventurous traders from Yunnan once again entered the Kachin Hills in search of the green stones. This time they managed to find them; big, precious boulders along the banks of the Uru Hka river, near the village of Hpakan, northwest of Mogaung. From the end of the 18th century onwards, the jade trade with Yunnan expanded rapidly. The only hindrances were rough roads and a climate in which malaria flourished. A Chinese temple at Amarapura near Mandalay in northern Burma has a long list of the names of more than 6000 traders who perished while searching for jade in the Kachin Hills—and the roll-call includes only the names of well known traders for whom funeral rites were held. The actual total would be many times that number, had all the small traders and adventurers been included.
The original rulers of the jade mine area were the Shan sawbwas of Mogaung—a place—a name which is actually a Burmese corruption of the Shan Mong Kawng. But pressed between the politically more powerful Burmans to the south—and the warlike Kachins, who pushed down from the north, the sawbwas of Mogaung lost their independence soon after the trade with China had been established.
The state was subjugated by the Burmese Kings of Ava in 1796, and the mines came within the domains of a number of Kachin chiefs, or duwas. The most powerful of these was the Kansi duwas, who drew considerable royalties on the jade trade—apart from the revenue collected by the Burmese governor in Mogaung. The Burmese Kings quickly became aware of the importance of the jade trade; already by 1806 a Burmese Collectorate with an armed force was located in Mogaung.
Although there is no jade at Mogaung itself, the town soon became the headquarters of the jade trade in Burma. Few merchants themselves actually went up to the mines. Instead, they hired local people to dig for them, and the jade brought down to Mogaung where it was bought by the Chinese and taxed by the Burmese authorities. From Mogaung, caravans—often protected by Panthay, or Muslim Chinese, mercenaries from Yunnan—wound their way over the high mountain passes east of the Irrawaddy, across the frontier into China. The demand for jadeite was universal throughout China, and the Hpakan mines were the only source of this superior type and quality.
The trade with China has since been interrupted only four times. The first cut-off occurred during the First Opium War between Britain and China in the 1840’s, when Cantonese traders no longer could come to buy the stones at Kunming in Yunnan. When the war was over, the trade commenced again, but it soon came to a new halt when the Panthay Muslims rebelled in 1857. The unrest in Yunnan, which prevailed for many years, prompted some traders to negotiate with the Burmese Kings, and a new route was opened by sea from Canton, up the Irrawaddy to Mandalay.
From then on the trade picked up and, before long, the mountain routes via Yunnan came into use once more. It continued uninterrupted until World War Two and the Japanese invasions of China and Burma in the 1940s. The fourth time the trade was stopped was, naturally, after the communist revolution in China in 1949. This brought the trade with China to a standstill, which at first appeared to be permanent. Hong Kong then emerged as the world’s leader center, with Chiang Mai in northern Thailand as the most important nexus along the long and dangerous route from Hpakan. By then, the mines had been nationalized by the Burmese government following the military takeover in 1962—at least in theory.
The jade-belt roughly stretches from Hweka north of Indawgyi Lake to Singkaling Hkamti on the Chindwin river, with the main mining area suited between Hpakan and Tawmaw near the Uru Kha river. Jade is also found at a few other places in Kachin State, notably at Mandawng and Shangaw east of the Nmai Hka river—but the quality there is said to be inferior to that of Hkapan-Tawmaw area.
A trained eye is said to be able to distinguish one type of jade from another, and even say from which mine the stone has been brought. But not until it has been cut. Through millions of years of exposure to weathering, jade boulders oxidize, developing a gray to brown exterior skin. Such a skin is largely opaque, hiding the color and quality of the material underneath. Thus no one is able to say exactly what the quality of a piece is until this skin is removed by grinding, or the boulder opened by sawing. It may be the highly prized, translucent emerald green known in the trade as imperial jade, sometimes worth thousands of dollars per carat, or it could be of an opaque white color worth practically nothing. Part of the excitement surrounding the jade business is exactly this: buying the unskinned rough is very much of a gamble. Traders can make a big profit if lucky, or lose their shirts if the quality is low.
This gambling connected with the purchase of rough jadeite could be one of several reasons why jade became so popular with the Chinese—and why the communists later frowned upon it after the 1949 revolution. Now, when China is rediscovering many of its former traditions, the traders from Peking and Shanghai appear to have settled for a compromise: jade, minus the gamble.
“They want to cut the stones before they buy them,” said one local jade expert on the Sino-Kachin border.
Hong Kong is usually the final destination of most jadeite which comes out from Burma via Thailand. The British colony entered the international jade market when the Japanese occupied the former trading centers of Peking, Shanghai and Canton during World War Two—and when the communists took over China in 1949. These events forced two waves of jade merchants to flee to Hong Kong, which soon became the world’s main marketplace for cut jade. Today, either they or their descendants are among the most prominent of the 40 members of the Hong Kong Jade & Stone Manufacturer’s Association.
Despite being carried out by people in business suits and neckties, Hong Kong’s jade auctions are still steeped in ancient Chinese ritual. Whereas a Western auctioneer is all noise and movement, his Cantonese counterpart will stand still and wait for customers to come up to him and offer their bids, using the legendary finger sign bidding technique. The prospective buyer will privately touch the fingers of the auctioneer under a piece of cloth, and just whisper if he is indicating hundreds or thousands of Hong Kong dollars. Keeping all the secret bids in his head, the auctioneer will finally clasp the fingers of the bidder who has offered the most suitable price.
A jade deal has been made.
(via Gemological Digest, Vol.2, No.4, 1989) Bertil Lintner writes:
Abstract
There are few areas in the world which offer as much fascination to the gemologist as Upper Burma. Throughout history this region has been off limits to outsiders. This situation was merely perpetuated with the coming-to-power of the xenophobic Ne Win regime in 1962. Since that time eyewitness accounts have been few and far between. This is indeed unfortunate, for Upper Burma contains two of the planet’s premier gem deposits: ruby/sapphire mines at Mogok and the world’s only jadeite deposits of consequence near Mogaung.
The following article is based on the author’s lengthy journey through Burma’s Kachin State. He gives a fascinating account of the jade trade, describing the often romantic political and legal complexities surrounding the marketing and distribution of the gem known to Chinese as “the stone of heaven.”
There may not be many places in Southeast Asia where people are prepared to pay US$100 for a bottle of Hennessy cognac or French champagne, $10 for a pint of beer, $3 for a bowl of noodle soup, and over $130 for a pair of running shoes from South Korea. But exorbitant prices seem to matter little at Hpakan in northern Burma, where some people are said to have become overnight millionaires by accidentally unearthing a big green boulder while digging latrines outside their houses.
Described as a mini “Hong Kong” by many visitors, Hpakan, the “jade capital” of Burma’s Kachin State, is reputed to have a much wider and even more exclusive variety of contraband goods than the famous night market in Mandalay. Perfumes from Paris, American cigarettes, tinned New Zealand butter, Australian cheddar and German pressure cookers—anything and everything is available at freewheeling Hpakan.
Thousands of fortune seekers flock to the jade mines every year, ranging from affluent Chinese laopans, or bosses, from Mandalay, Rangoon, Bangkok and Hong Kong, to teenagers and people in their early twenties, all with dreams of striking it rich.
“It’s a very special atmosphere there. The gambling fever affects everyone and people live in perpetual presence,” said one young Kachin student who had spent his summer holiday searching for jade at Hpakan:
“Anything goes. Young boys and girls meet and build huts in the forest, where they stay and dig together. Even married people seem to forget their marital ties as soon as they have crossed the Uru Hka river.”
The jade diggers usually fall into two categories. They are either seasonal migrants—farmers, workers, students, and government employees—or full-time professionals.
Officially, the Burmese government allows jade mining only at three places: Hpakan itself, and at the neighboring villages of Waje Maw and Sanchyoi. There, the work is carried out by government-employed diggers who receive a monthly salary plus a 10-20% commission on any high quality jade they manage to find. That jade is later sold to international buyers at the annual government-organized extravaganza at the Inya Lake Hotel in Rangoon.
But, given the vast amounts of money in circulation, it is hardly surprising that the laopans, and even private diggers, can bribe the local officials who are more than eager to get their share of Hpakan’s fortunes. It is even said that big Hong Kong-based jade companies have their own, secret representatives at Hpakan to supervise the work, organize the buying, and hire agents for transporting the boulders out from the mining areas.
Local people with experience in jade mining told this correspondent that Burmese Army officers go looking for ‘illegal diggers—and even shoot them if they cannot pay the demanded fees:
“If the people killed have only a small amount, the officers keep it for themselves. But if they have a lot of jade, it’s difficult to hide and so the army people have to hand it over to the government. That jade also ends up at the Inya Lake Hotel,” charged one source from Hpakan.
Corruption in Burma—a country which virtually lives off smuggling and black market trade—is by no means confined to Hpakan, but the situation there is aggravated by the immense wealth of the place, and the fact that some major jade syndicates are reputed to be connected with drug smuggling rings. Several big traders are said to bring jade out of Hpakan—and local hard currencies, such as opium and heroin, in to finance the purchase of jade at the mines.
Like most other towns in Kachin State, Hpakan is supplied by convoys of lorries (F.E.E.R, 28 May 1987) which move with tight security because of fear of ambushes which are frequently launched by the rebel Kachin Independence Army (KIA). These convoys carry daily necessities, arms and ammunition for the Burmese Army, and, for a fee, various kinds of contraband, according to Hpakan souces.
The rampant graft and corruption at Hpakan could be the reason why army units are deployed there on a rotational basis. One battalion of government troops never stays more than six months in the area—enough time for an officer to make a fortune, but not too long to let rivalry erupt between him and his colleagues, who are waiting for their turn of duty at the jade mines.
However, disputes between army officers reportedly do occur every now and then. The most serious clash in recent years erupted between some officers from the Myitkyina-based 29th battalion, which was stationed at Hpakan for six months during 1985, and the then commander of the northern command of the Burmese Army, Brig Gen Lazum Kam Hpang. The latter, a Kachin himself, had severely reprimanded the officers from the 29th battalion for alleged maltreatment of Kachin civilians in the jade mines area, even threatening to punish them. It all ended in a shoot out at a coffee shop in Myitkyina on November 16, 1985; Brig Gen Lazum Kam Hpang was fatally wounded and died in the hospital shortly afterwards.
At first, the local authorities put the blame on the Kachin rebels in the KIA, but when no substantial evidence could be presented to support that allegation, the whole story was quickly hushed up, and it went unreported in the government controlled Burmese media. Army deployment in the jade mining region is heavy, but nevertheless confined to Hpakan town, and the government controlled jade mines of Waje Maw and Sanchyoi. In addition, a company size contingent is always based at the Lung Hkang junction, where the road to Hpakan branches off to Kamaing in the Hukawng Valley. The surrounding hills and the countryside—where most jade mines are located—including the famous mines at Tawmaw north of Hpakan, have long been controlled by the KIA.
The Kachin rebels first occupied parts of the jade mine area in 1963, and tax on the trade as well as yearly licenses, or so-called digging tickets have since been a main source of income for the KIA. The rebel army maintains a number of checkpoints around the mines—including one on the main Lung Hkang Kamaing motor road—where a 10-30% tax is levied on the jade which merchants bring out from the area.
A Kachin rebel taxation office told this correspondent that yearly takings, including tickets at the KIA toll gates around Hpakan amount to Kyats 8-10 million—but he added that only 25% of the jade may pass through the rebel checkpoints:
“The most precious pieces are smuggled out, and the total value of the jade extracted from the Hpakan area could be as much as Kyats 100 million a year,” the officer said.
The real profit, however, is made when the jade reaches the Thai border, usually the first destination outside Burma on the long smuggling route from Burma’s Kachin State to Hong Kong, the world’s main marketing center for jade. Prices at the Thai border are said to be five to ten times as high as in Hpakan, and sometimes even more if the jade is of unusually good quality. But before the jade comes that far it has to pass through many stages, involving more bribes to government officials, and additional tax to other rebel groups along the way through Burma to Thailand.
The clandestine representatives of the international jade syndicate at Hpakan—who are not in a position to evade bribes, but who seldom pay tax to the KIA—are reported to bring most of their cut and uncut jade boulders down the Uru Hka river, in a westerly direction towards Homalin on the Chindwin river. In this way, they bypass the KIA’s checkpoints on the Kamaing road and south of Hpakan.
Usually, blocks of jade are tied to rafts or small country boats for the downriver journey to Homalin. There is only one Burmese Army outpost along this route—at Nawngpu-awng—and bribes ease the way here as well as in Hpakan. From Homalin, the jade continues by steamer down the Chindwin, or hidden in paddy baskets and under heaps of straw on bullock carts, until it reaches the railhead of Monywa. From there, rail and lorries take over for the onward trip to Mandalay, Taunggyi, and even as far south as Rangoon and Moulmein, depending on the final destination of the cargo.
Along the way to Monywa, a small percentage of the jade is diverted to India via the Tamu-Moreh border market in the Manipur State. This border crossing point is a main center for the contraband trade between Burma and India, but the demand for jade is not high among the Indians; the customers on that side are the 40000 or so ethnic Chinese who live in Calcutta, and a few other places in eastern and northeastern India.
An elaborate network of local agents, who usually have connections among themselves even if they work for different syndicates, are said to be responsible for the various stages along the routes. One group may take care of the Hpakan-Mandalay section, another would be in charge of the stretch from Mandalay to Taunggyi, Rangoon or Moulmein, and a third party would ensure that the goods are delivered across the border in Thailand, or sometimes by boat from Moulmein to Penang in Malaysia, or even on to Singapore.
During the last leg of the journey, before reaching the Thai border, some traders have to pay transit fees to the various insurgent groups there—the Karen rebel army if the goods are going south to Bangkok, the Karenni army if the destination is Mae Hong Son and Chiang Mai via Loikaw in Kayah State.
But these minor routes would be used by smaller traders only; most of the border between Thailand and Burma’s Shan State is controlled either by remnants of the Nationalist Chinese Koumintang, or by Chang Shee-fu (alias Khun Sa) and his powerful private army. Both groups are dominated by ethnic Chinese businessmen who run their own jade syndicates—and mercenary armies across the border with Burma.
The jade trade, which has brought a fair amount of the present wealth and well being to Chiang Mai, is seen by some observers as potentially even more lucrative than the closely connected drug trade, which sometimes is carried out by the same syndicates. That is becoming more important now when international police agencies in Thailand are stepping up their drives against narcotics smugglers. Unlike heroin, jade becomes a legal commodity once it has crossed the international frontier.
Running the gauntlet into Thailand is becoming tougher, and while most heroin refineries still appear to be located near the Thai-Burmese border, increased police supervision in Thailand is seen by many observers as the reason why more and more drugs now make a U-turn near the frontier, back into Burma and along new ones through that country.
New smuggling routes exist along which both jade and heroin pass through central Burma—where international police control is none existent—down to the Tenasserim coast. Well informed sources assert that it is not difficult to bring any kind of goods through Burma—if one can afford to pay the price.
Small traders reportedly deposit their goods with the policemen who check the passenger baggage on the Myitkyina-Mandalay and Mandalay-Rangoon trains; it is also possible to leave the contraband with the train driver, these sources say.
The fee here would not be more than a few thousand Kyats, or less than 10% of value of the goods, which can be heroin, raw opium or jade. Bigger traders, though, need more sophisticated solutions to the problem. By bribing government officials, they can obtain letters of introduction stating that they are intelligence agents on duty, and that their luggage, therefore, should not be checked. People issuing these letters range from local army officers to government ministers, the sources say, and the fee depends on the authority of the official in question and the solvency of the individual trader. Other certificates can be more cryptic, stating that the bearer should not be recruited as a porter to carry arms and ammunition for government troops—a common practice whenever the Burmese Army launches operations against country’s many insurgent groups—which indirectly means that he is an important person. Bearers of such certificates have assured this correspondent that their vehicles are never searched by the police or the army.
But now it seems that recent events along the Sino-Kachin border may change all this and drastically alter the entire network of underground trade through Burma down to Thailand, and to Malaysia and Singapore. As a result of the rapid modernization drive launched by Deng Xiaoping in China, baggy trousers and old Mao jackets are losing their former popularity—and jade is back again. According to one source along the Sino-Kachin border:
“Previously, the only decoration Chinese women could wear were red Mao badges. Now, also the Chinese in mainland China want to set off the beauty of their women as the overseas Chinese do. Jade is undergoing a renaissance in the People’s Republic.”
Buyers from Peking and Shanghai recently have come down to the border between China and Burma’s Kachin State, and they are reported to be gradually improving their knowledge, almost matching the Chinese jade merchants of pre-revolutionary days. Most of this jade seems to be earmarked for the domestic market, while some gemstones, jewelry and carvings are sold in Hong Kong via the many emporia the Chinese government maintains in the still-British territory.
The exact amount of jade now being sent to China is difficult to determine, and as far as the value goes, it may not exceed five percent of the total output at Hpakan. But it is increasing steadily, since it is a much easier route than down to Thailand.
This correspondent saw convoys of jade-laden elephants and mules winding their way up the steep mountain passes along the Sino-Kachin frontier, and there was little doubt that the routes of the former jade caravans to Tengchong in Yunnan Province were open again. The most frequently used routes lead from Hpakan to the KIA-controlled border settlements of Hkala Yang, Pa Jau and Loije. A smaller amount reaches China via Kambaiti Pass to the north, which is controlled by the Burmese Communist Party (BCP). All three aforementioned gates are in Kachin State—but most jade goes from the center at Mandalay via Lashio to Juili north of the Shweli border river in order to avoid the rebel tax gates.
The difficulty in bringing profitable goods other than jade to China could explain why many traders still prefer the much longer and more risky journey down to Thailand. One source also pointed out that the traders do not want to work only; they also want amusement:
“In Thailand, there are massage parlors and nightclubs; in China there is nothing like that yet. It’s more fun to spend your money in Chiang Mai than in Juili or Tengchong.”
But even when taking this into consideration, it is nevertheless not far-fetched to assume that the direct routes to China are destined to become more important, especially when Hong Kong returns to Chinese hands in 1997. Whether that will severely affect the jade trade with Thailand remains to be seen, but, without doubt, that route will inevitably lose much of its present significance. If that should prove to be the case, the drug syndicates which are based along the Thai-Burmese border may also be affected. Without jade as a supplementary, and complementary, commodity, the heroin trade will become less profitable and more difficult to continue effectively, some observers suggest.
“Jade is popular in China now. But neither the Chinese authorities, nor the Kachin rebels who tax the trade, would allow heroin to come along with it. The Chinese welcome green jade, but not the white powder.”
Gemologists distinguish two types of jade: jadeite and nephrite. The origin of the word jade is believed to be the expression piedra de ijada of the Spanish Conquistadores, which means stone of the side or flank. Wearing jade next to one’s kidney or liver was believed to provide healing benefits. Similarly, nephros is the Greek word for kidney, and this led to the term nephrite.
One difference between these two species is that jadeite is a vitreous and shiny stone, while nephrite has a more oily or waxy finish. Nephrite is also called green stone in New Zealand, where the native Maoris carved it for fish hooks, knives, needles and war clubs—and for religious objects, or tikis, which were worn for decoration and spiritual protection.
The Aztecs and Mayans of Central America revered the beauty of both jadeite and nephrite, and vast quantities were taken away by the Conquistadores when they occupied these ancient empires. Fair quality jadeite has been found in Guatemala, but the location of the original Mayan Mines still remains a mystery. Small quantities of jadeite have also been found in the USSR, Japan, and in California in the US.
But, it is the Kachin Hills of northern Burma which for centuries have been the world’s only supplier of top quality jadeite. The discovery that fine green jadeite occurred in the Kachin Hills is said to have been made accidentally by a Yannanese petty trader in the 13th century. The story runs that when about to return home from a trading trip to northern Burma, he picked up a stone to balance the load of his mule. It proved to be jade of excellent quality, and subsequently a large party returned to procure more. These merchants were unsuccessful, however, as no local people were able to tell them where this kind of stone could be found.
Several more missions came from China, but they were equally unsuccessful. The keenness of the Chinese to locate the jade deposits was not difficult to understand; nephrite jade had been known and appreciated in China from early times in history. And to the Chinese, jade was not just another stone—protective qualities were also attributed to it. Many Chinese children, even today, wear a kind of jade padlock around their necks to protect them from diseases. One type of Chinese nephrite is known as mutton fat, having a yellowish white color. Another variety is called chicken bone and it has a slightly lighter hue. Nephrite most commonly occurs in a green color. But even the finest nephrite is no match for the emerald green jadeite which the Yunnanese trader had brought back from the Kachin Hills.
The final discovery of the jade mines came after 1784, when centuries of hostilities between the traditional enemies, Burma and China, were terminated. Adventurous traders from Yunnan once again entered the Kachin Hills in search of the green stones. This time they managed to find them; big, precious boulders along the banks of the Uru Hka river, near the village of Hpakan, northwest of Mogaung. From the end of the 18th century onwards, the jade trade with Yunnan expanded rapidly. The only hindrances were rough roads and a climate in which malaria flourished. A Chinese temple at Amarapura near Mandalay in northern Burma has a long list of the names of more than 6000 traders who perished while searching for jade in the Kachin Hills—and the roll-call includes only the names of well known traders for whom funeral rites were held. The actual total would be many times that number, had all the small traders and adventurers been included.
The original rulers of the jade mine area were the Shan sawbwas of Mogaung—a place—a name which is actually a Burmese corruption of the Shan Mong Kawng. But pressed between the politically more powerful Burmans to the south—and the warlike Kachins, who pushed down from the north, the sawbwas of Mogaung lost their independence soon after the trade with China had been established.
The state was subjugated by the Burmese Kings of Ava in 1796, and the mines came within the domains of a number of Kachin chiefs, or duwas. The most powerful of these was the Kansi duwas, who drew considerable royalties on the jade trade—apart from the revenue collected by the Burmese governor in Mogaung. The Burmese Kings quickly became aware of the importance of the jade trade; already by 1806 a Burmese Collectorate with an armed force was located in Mogaung.
Although there is no jade at Mogaung itself, the town soon became the headquarters of the jade trade in Burma. Few merchants themselves actually went up to the mines. Instead, they hired local people to dig for them, and the jade brought down to Mogaung where it was bought by the Chinese and taxed by the Burmese authorities. From Mogaung, caravans—often protected by Panthay, or Muslim Chinese, mercenaries from Yunnan—wound their way over the high mountain passes east of the Irrawaddy, across the frontier into China. The demand for jadeite was universal throughout China, and the Hpakan mines were the only source of this superior type and quality.
The trade with China has since been interrupted only four times. The first cut-off occurred during the First Opium War between Britain and China in the 1840’s, when Cantonese traders no longer could come to buy the stones at Kunming in Yunnan. When the war was over, the trade commenced again, but it soon came to a new halt when the Panthay Muslims rebelled in 1857. The unrest in Yunnan, which prevailed for many years, prompted some traders to negotiate with the Burmese Kings, and a new route was opened by sea from Canton, up the Irrawaddy to Mandalay.
From then on the trade picked up and, before long, the mountain routes via Yunnan came into use once more. It continued uninterrupted until World War Two and the Japanese invasions of China and Burma in the 1940s. The fourth time the trade was stopped was, naturally, after the communist revolution in China in 1949. This brought the trade with China to a standstill, which at first appeared to be permanent. Hong Kong then emerged as the world’s leader center, with Chiang Mai in northern Thailand as the most important nexus along the long and dangerous route from Hpakan. By then, the mines had been nationalized by the Burmese government following the military takeover in 1962—at least in theory.
The jade-belt roughly stretches from Hweka north of Indawgyi Lake to Singkaling Hkamti on the Chindwin river, with the main mining area suited between Hpakan and Tawmaw near the Uru Kha river. Jade is also found at a few other places in Kachin State, notably at Mandawng and Shangaw east of the Nmai Hka river—but the quality there is said to be inferior to that of Hkapan-Tawmaw area.
A trained eye is said to be able to distinguish one type of jade from another, and even say from which mine the stone has been brought. But not until it has been cut. Through millions of years of exposure to weathering, jade boulders oxidize, developing a gray to brown exterior skin. Such a skin is largely opaque, hiding the color and quality of the material underneath. Thus no one is able to say exactly what the quality of a piece is until this skin is removed by grinding, or the boulder opened by sawing. It may be the highly prized, translucent emerald green known in the trade as imperial jade, sometimes worth thousands of dollars per carat, or it could be of an opaque white color worth practically nothing. Part of the excitement surrounding the jade business is exactly this: buying the unskinned rough is very much of a gamble. Traders can make a big profit if lucky, or lose their shirts if the quality is low.
This gambling connected with the purchase of rough jadeite could be one of several reasons why jade became so popular with the Chinese—and why the communists later frowned upon it after the 1949 revolution. Now, when China is rediscovering many of its former traditions, the traders from Peking and Shanghai appear to have settled for a compromise: jade, minus the gamble.
“They want to cut the stones before they buy them,” said one local jade expert on the Sino-Kachin border.
Hong Kong is usually the final destination of most jadeite which comes out from Burma via Thailand. The British colony entered the international jade market when the Japanese occupied the former trading centers of Peking, Shanghai and Canton during World War Two—and when the communists took over China in 1949. These events forced two waves of jade merchants to flee to Hong Kong, which soon became the world’s main marketplace for cut jade. Today, either they or their descendants are among the most prominent of the 40 members of the Hong Kong Jade & Stone Manufacturer’s Association.
Despite being carried out by people in business suits and neckties, Hong Kong’s jade auctions are still steeped in ancient Chinese ritual. Whereas a Western auctioneer is all noise and movement, his Cantonese counterpart will stand still and wait for customers to come up to him and offer their bids, using the legendary finger sign bidding technique. The prospective buyer will privately touch the fingers of the auctioneer under a piece of cloth, and just whisper if he is indicating hundreds or thousands of Hong Kong dollars. Keeping all the secret bids in his head, the auctioneer will finally clasp the fingers of the bidder who has offered the most suitable price.
A jade deal has been made.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Asian Markets Push Illegal Ivory
BBC News writes:
The illegal ivory trade is expanding, driven by East Asian crime syndicates, according to the wildlife trade monitoring network Traffic.
The syndicates gather ivory in Africa for export to East Asian countries. The biggest market is mainland China, though there is also significant trade to other countries such as Thailand and the Philippines, and to Hong Kong.
Traffic says there are 92 illegal ivory seizures per month, and the number of large hauls has doubled in a decade. Its report will be presented to next month's meeting of the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (Cites), where wildlife campaigners hope it will put pressure on governments whose countries are used by the traffickers.
"The relevant question is whether Cites is going to crack down or not, whether governments are going to show some political will," said Sue Lieberman, director of the global species programme at WWF which runs Traffic together with the World Conservation Union (IUCN).
"The Asian market is the key. It is thriving again in Thailand, and a lot of Chinese businesses have moved into Africa, for example timber companies, which means more ivory is coming out," she told the BBC News website.
Big hauls up
Traffic bases its report on an analysis of nearly 12,400 records of ivory seizures in 82 countries dating back to 1989 as part of the Elephant Trade Information System (Etis). It clearly identifies the Democratic Republic of Congo, Cameroon and Nigeria as the main sources of illegal ivory.
"With myriad conflicts, central Africa is currently haemorrhaging ivory," observed Tom Milliken, director of Traffic's Africa programme. "These three countries are major conduits for trafficking illegal ivory from the region to international markets, particularly in Asia."
The number of seizures fell between 1990 and 1995, but there has been a rising trend since then. The number of large hauls - above one tonne - has also risen, which Dr Lieberman believes "demonstrates greater sophistication, organisation and finance".
China is identified as the single biggest market, though Traffic says enforcement has improved markedly in the last five years. On the African side, the conservation group singles out Ethiopia for praise as a country which has effectively implemented an action plan drawn up by Cites four years ago, clamping down on its domestic ivory market.
More info @ http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/6644365.stm
The illegal ivory trade is expanding, driven by East Asian crime syndicates, according to the wildlife trade monitoring network Traffic.
The syndicates gather ivory in Africa for export to East Asian countries. The biggest market is mainland China, though there is also significant trade to other countries such as Thailand and the Philippines, and to Hong Kong.
Traffic says there are 92 illegal ivory seizures per month, and the number of large hauls has doubled in a decade. Its report will be presented to next month's meeting of the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (Cites), where wildlife campaigners hope it will put pressure on governments whose countries are used by the traffickers.
"The relevant question is whether Cites is going to crack down or not, whether governments are going to show some political will," said Sue Lieberman, director of the global species programme at WWF which runs Traffic together with the World Conservation Union (IUCN).
"The Asian market is the key. It is thriving again in Thailand, and a lot of Chinese businesses have moved into Africa, for example timber companies, which means more ivory is coming out," she told the BBC News website.
Big hauls up
Traffic bases its report on an analysis of nearly 12,400 records of ivory seizures in 82 countries dating back to 1989 as part of the Elephant Trade Information System (Etis). It clearly identifies the Democratic Republic of Congo, Cameroon and Nigeria as the main sources of illegal ivory.
"With myriad conflicts, central Africa is currently haemorrhaging ivory," observed Tom Milliken, director of Traffic's Africa programme. "These three countries are major conduits for trafficking illegal ivory from the region to international markets, particularly in Asia."
The number of seizures fell between 1990 and 1995, but there has been a rising trend since then. The number of large hauls - above one tonne - has also risen, which Dr Lieberman believes "demonstrates greater sophistication, organisation and finance".
China is identified as the single biggest market, though Traffic says enforcement has improved markedly in the last five years. On the African side, the conservation group singles out Ethiopia for praise as a country which has effectively implemented an action plan drawn up by Cites four years ago, clamping down on its domestic ivory market.
More info @ http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/6644365.stm
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