For the past three years, something has been weighing on the heart of Yan Zhitu, said to be the only folk storyteller left in the capital of south China's Guangdong Province.

Three years ago, Yan, then 57, had to give up his podium at Shi'ergong, an entertainment facility on Jiangnan Street when the management decided to turn it into a karaoke bar. By then, no cultural salon or small open theatres could offer a podium for Yan to perform his one-man talking show.

It wasn't until last October that he was again invited to give his storytelling show for seven days on Beijing Road, a traditional commercial street in the city.

"I was more happy than ever at that time. I think it is my responsibility to continue this folk art with the public," he said.

His is not a simple folk storytelling show. It combines vivid narration of tales of ancient heroes and battle scenes in the Cantonese dialect, with exaggerated gestures and even kung fu moves.

But in the past three years, he has made a living by teaching kung fu in Taihe County, his hometown in the suburbs of the city.

There were days when he told stories in the city's streets or parks, and those memories are still fresh.

"People crowded around me when I told stories about Cao Cao," he said.

Cao Cao, a statesman in the Three Kingdom Period (220-280 AD), has come down in classical Chinese literature as one of the most cunning and dangerous politicians in history.

Yan can trace his style of storytelling back to the early Qing Dynasty (1644-1911) when a storytelling artist came to the Pearl River Delta area from North China, and brought along many stories.

Local artists have added more Cantonese flavor to these stories to suit their audiences. And the folk art enjoyed a tremendous boom in the 1950s.

Yan himself has performed on the stage for more than 40 years, telling stories especially about legendary Chinese characters and martial arts.

"At that time, people always flocked into the streets or parks after class and work, to listen to those stories," Yan recalled.

But in the past 40 years, Yan also saw ups and downs in his storytelling career.

While he was still a middle school student, Yan was attracted to storytelling in the street one day on his way home from school. The story he heard lingered on in his mind, and he retold the story to his fellow students at school the next day. He discovered he had a knack for storytelling.

"I got the title 'King of Storytellers' at that time, and all my schoolmates enjoyed the stories I told," Yan said.

In those days, he often went to the city's Cultural Park, where many elderly storytellers gave their shows.

When his parents wouldn't give him pocket money to watch the shows, he sometimes had to enter the park early before the shows started at night. Once he even hid himself in the restroom to escape from being checked.

He then worked with the municipal sanitation bureau after he finished middle school, but he maintained his love for storytelling.

He began telling stories in the street after work to earn money, and continued to go to the park to learn more from other folk performers.

His persistence and talent moved Hou Yupei, a well-known storyteller in the city. With Hou's recommendation, Yan, still in his late teens, joined the local storytelling association. To make his performance more vivid, he began practicing Chinese martial arts when he was 16.

"As most of the stories come from Chinese classics about martial arts, a folk storyteller should have a good understanding of them," he said.

He was lucky to pursue the folk performing art from the 1960s to the early 1980s, when many families still couldn't afford a radio, let alone a television set.

Spectators flocked every night into Shi'ergong to see the popular Yan, in what was once the most popular venue for storytelling shows.

Things began to change in the late 1980s and especially in the 1990s, when most urban homes had television sets. Yan could only give two performances a week at Shi'ergong.

In 1996, the management at the Cultural Park decided not to provide its open stage for storytelling. Worse, one of the veteran local storytellers passed away, and another stopped giving shows. Yan found himself the only one struggling on.

Three years ago, he was asked to give up his show at the only place where he could give a single show once a week in Shi'ergong, because the management decided to remodel it into a disco.

"People lost interest in storytelling, because they found new ways to entertain themselves," he said.

Luo Yulin, a local folk culture researcher, said that people nowadays watch TV or listen to radio shows at home instead of going to parks or other public places to attend traditional storytelling shows. As a result, the scene of throngs of people watching storytellers' performances in public venues has almost disappeared.

"But Yan is the only storyteller in the city today, and he represents a great local folk art, so people and society as a whole should pay special attention to him, or the art will be lost forever," Luo said.

Today, TV stations also run storytelling programs, but Yan pointed out that they differ greatly from the tradition he has inherited and practiced, especially since the shows are pre-recorded.

"The storytellers do not need to tell stories face-to-face with audiences," Yan said.

Without spectators, it's hard for a storyteller to improvise, an artistic feat that often distinguishes the best folk storytellers from the mediocre.

He feels that storytellers on TV or radio have somehow distanced themselves from the population, and their arts are somehow uprooted from folk traditions.

Fortunately for him, though, four college students and two from middle school have called him in the past few months, asking if they could learn storytelling from him.

"Their great love for telling stories will be the most important motivation for them to learn, as they will never get money or fame from it," he said.

At present, he teaches six students in the People's Park every Sunday morning. He also began telling stories on local TV and radio, hoping that more people will learn about this folk art.

"A soldier must die on the battlefield. And a storyteller should end his life on the stage," Yan said.

(China Daily March 9, 2004)