As the Kong family threw the last of the dirt on the grave and burned paper offerings for their dead mother, a relative told the story of her death.

And in a few short sentences she also described how Inner Mongolia was saying goodbye to its nomadic past to embrace a more prosperous future.

The 50-year-old peasant from the village of Qi Er Yin, north of Hohhot , was knocked down and killed by one of the many passing coal trucks as she trundled along the road on her three-wheeled farm vehicle. She left behind a husband and two teenage children.

"This has happened two or three times in recent months around here. There are so many coal trucks these days, and because the drivers have insurance they don't care about us farmers," her sister-in-law said.

Inner Mongolia is changing rapidly from a land of sheep and nomadic herders to a region where an industrial boom is creating new wealth.

The livelihoods and culture based on the Mongol grasslands are being swept aside by immigrants and replaced by occupations much more promising than a life on the land.

There is no shortage of museums, tourist brochures or residents to tell the story of Genghis Khan, who first roamed these hills before galloping west and south to build his kingdom. But these days the grasslands, horses and free-wheeling nomadic lifestyle offer only a historic backdrop for a modern community more focused on securing middle-class comforts than worrying about a lifestyle lost.

"It's not just officials and businesspeople who are getting richer. We're also making a bit more money," said Lang Guilin , a trucker with a dirt-streaked face transporting a load of vegetables across Inner Mongolia.

Amid the new wealth, Mongols - who make up a sixth of the population of the autonomous region - are struggling to maintain their culture as they move into the cities. The government wants nomads to leave the hills, but can a culture based on roaming the open spaces be adapted to an urban setting?

Moving Inner Mongolia's 3 million to 4 million shepherds off the grasslands and into towns and cities has become an environmental project, as chronic drought and overgrazing have turned the once-green hills into lifeless desert.

"There are about 600,000 people in places where they should be moved out, away from the bad parts of the grasslands. About 300,000 have already been moved and the government gives them 5,000 yuan [$5HK,700] per person and new houses," said Ren Yaping , vice-chairman of the Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region. 

The desertification is not only causing an economic and cultural shift but is also leading to health problems. Dust sticks in throats from Hohhot to Beijing and beyond.

"There are more allergies and asthma here than you might see elsewhere," said Zhang Qing , professor of respiratory diseases at the Inner Mongolia Medical College. "Spring brings dust and sandstorms, and this season is especially bad for respiratory illness."

But moving nomads into villages is a controversial policy that has some groups, such as the Southern Mongolian Human Rights Information Centre, accusing the government of using environmental causes as an excuse to marginalise Mongols and their culture, an accusation the government denies.

The influx of Han Chinese to work in the mines and earn their share of the bounty further threatens Mongol culture, as an increasing number of schools teach in Putonghua.

"There are too many [Han] for how few of us Mongols there are. They take the land and dig it and ruin it, but we don't have much choice," Wu Riya, a second-year student at Inner Mongolia University, said as she sat in a cafe full of young Mongols chatting in their native tongue.

But she is also quick to point out the special opportunities Mongols enjoy. Students like her have a better chance of getting into university than their Han counterparts do and they have access to more financial aid.

Many degrees can be obtained in the Mongolian language, and Mongolian newspapers and television programmes are provided by the state. "You can blame lots of people and the government for what's happening. But it's up to each person on their own to keep the culture and to learn the language and ways of Mongolia," Wu Riya said.

"When we are moved off the grassland it destroys one side of our culture, but it helps develop other sides, like the music, because there's more chance to perform in the city.

"Most important, I can read and write real Mongolian, that's what makes me Mongol," she said.

Inner Mongolia uses traditional Mongolian script, while Cyrillic is used in the Republic of Mongolia. Much of the foreign-funded study of Mongolian has been devoted to the Cyrillic form, leaving the traditional form to rely on local-government support.

"It's a political issue. America can get a lot more impact and traction in Outer Mongolia because of its location next to Russia. It can't get the same direct benefit in Inner Mongolia," said Emyr Pugh, a Welshman who is translating a Mongolian novel into English.

"By keeping up the language, they have a continuous link to the past. In Outer Mongolia they don't have that because they use Cyrillic."

That cultural link is being expressed in new ways as Inner Mongolians keep the culture alive in settings far from the romantic and stereotypical depictions in tourist brochures, such as the handful of people - Han and Mongol - in Hohhot's main square on a recent Friday night indulging their passion for song.

Middle-aged men with sheet music in hand, their eyes closed and faces lifted to the sky, sang words penned by Xi Murong, a Chinese-language poet of Mongol background who lives in Taiwan:

Although I cannot say this in my mother tongue

Please accept my sadness and happiness

I am a child of the grassland.

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