THEY may lack arms, legs, vision and hearing as individuals, but collectively the China Disabled People's Performing Arts Troupe is a joy to behold and to hear - and it makes money, writes Xin Hua.

An electrical accident left Huang Yangguang without arms, but dancing changed his life. The 31-year-old was born in a mountain village in south China's Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region and lost his arms when he was five years old. As he grew up, he learned to write, paint, ride a bicycle and plant fruit trees with his legs, believing he could live as normal as others did.

Now his life is more than normal. As a lead dancer in the China Disabled People's Performing Arts Troupe, he has a tight schedule and global aspirations.

"My dream used to be supporting my parents, two younger brothers and sister on my own," says Huang. "Now my dream is to bring joy to as many people as possible around the world."

After shining during the Paralympic Games opening and closing ceremonies last August in Beijing, the troupe aspired to even greater success on the world stage, both commercially and artistically.

The disabled artists were invited to Japan for 28 shows after the Beijing Olympics. Last October, they took a two-week US tour to Los Angeles and San Francisco, among other cities. They also visited Portugal, Morocco, Algeria and the United Arab Emirates.

A documentary film named after their ongoing show, "My Dream," premiered last April. It was funded by the troupe itself and is in the running for the coming Academy Awards for best documentary feature.

"My dream is to bring our special art to every corner of the world," Tai Lihua, head of the 153-member troupe, says in sign language. "That dream will never end."

In "My Dream," Huang's dance presents a picture of rural life in his hometown with exuberance and joy. He skillfully carries two buckets with a pole on his shoulders, holds a ladle between the toes of one foot, while standing on the other. He also spun a straw hat on his head to celebrate harvest. Nothing sad.

In the two-hour show, two hearing-impaired actors performed Peking Opera while their visually impaired companions played music and voiced the dialogue. A group of blind dancers paid tribute to spring. A band without music scores plays music, despite its members being unable to "see."

"Communication and cooperation between our members is natural," Tai says. "Of course it's more difficult for us than for others, but everyone here has been used to his or her environment. That's the way we live, so we try harder."

The 32-year-old Tai lost her hearing from excessive medicine injections during a bout of fever at age two. She had to count from one to eight in her head more than 1,000 times to complete a dance without messing up the rhythms.

The dancer overcame her disability, and her performances have been hits at New York's Carnegie Hall, Milan's La Scala Theater and other prestigious venues.

She first "heard" music at the age of seven, when she had a rhythmic class at a primary school for children who could neither hear nor speak.

"When I felt the drum beats passed on to my feet through the wood floor, I was startled. It was a happiness I had never experienced." Since then, she has never looked back on her dancing journey.

Like Tai, all members of the troupe had to fully realize their potential and turn to some special means to fulfill artistic achievement.

In a dance celebrating spring, "blind" boys and girls wearing sunglasses keep themselves in a neat line aided by a rope tied to their waists. Arm in arm, they put together green plastic patches to form a patch of grassland and smile while breathing in the grass.

"It was very difficult as sight-impaired people had no sense of images and usually gave vocal performances," says an former official with the China Disabled Persons' Federation, which was in charge of the troupe. "The choreographer came up with the idea as we wanted to give our audience something special, something that nobody would think was possible."

To give the unsighted dancers a basic idea of body movement, the teacher first struck a pose and then let them feel the position of her arms and legs.

"Many blind kids didn't even know what a smile is," says the official, who had been working closely with the troupe since its establishment and spoke on condition of anonymity. Like Tai, troupe officials always affectionately call the members "kids."

Some could only make awkward expressions or simply laugh when told to smile, she says. The teacher had to use her hands to fix a smile on their faces and asked them to remember the muscle movement.

Their work paid off. The bright smiles were infectious and always cheered the audience.

Huang was recruited by the troupe in 2001 when he won a prize in a national arts contest for the disabled. Before that, his inspiring story had drawn media attention and attracted the interest of a local official in charge of cultural affairs. He later choreographed a dance for him to showcase the armless man's special talent.

Like Huang, most of the troupe's members were picked from special schools or national art competitions, or recommended by local disabled people's federations, Tai says.

They were selected according to their artistic talent or enthusiasm, though few had received professional training, she says.

"After they entered the troupe, we found good college tutors and famed artists to teach them. We must ensure a sound, professional foundation for our art."

At first, the troupe was just a provisional organization after its 1987 founding when more than 30 disabled teenagers were allowed to take part in the First China Art Festival in Beijing. Their performance moved a large audience and the troupe was formed.

"Authorities of the CDPF fought for that opportunity at the festival," the troupe official recalled. "They thought those children needed a stage. Many of them loved singing and dancing and could do it well despite disabilities."

However, in the first 14 years, the troupe only existed for major events; members were temporarily called up from schools and elsewhere to enhance programs.

"The troupe was amateur at the time, kind of self-entertaining," the official says.

A turning point came in 2001 when the troupe was invited by the CASI Foundation for Children to perform in six US states.

Officials decided it was necessary to upgrade and professionalize. They formalized the organization, training and choreographing for the group.

"It was a huge success and gave us enormous confidence," says the official. "We realized we were not only the same as other people, but we could also become artists."

In 2002, the troupe decided to reject government funding and support itself with ticket sales. Members were eager to prove their artistic value and earn money for innovation and improvement.

They persevered through tough times when nobody would watch their shows, even when tickets were offered free.

Their reputation, however, was gradually built as the troupe's name was passed by word of mouth.

In 2004, the troupe put on a memorable dance performance in the eight-minute Beijing segment of the Athens Paralympic closing ceremony.

Video clips of their performance were posted on YouTube. "Impressive, I never knew disabled people and performing arts worked together," was one comment in English on the Website. "Who would have guessed the best dance performance I've ever seen would be done by deaf dancers?" said another.

With success, the troupe's bank account swelled to the point that it had enough money to set up a US$1 million charity fund last year.

"I feel more valued here and I earn much more than I did back home," Huang says.