A TEWO TIBETAN
CHILDHOOD
by
!ོ་$ེ་ཚ'་བ)ན། Rdo rje tshe brtan
ISSN (print): 1835-7741
ISSN (electronic): 1925-6329
Library of Congress Control Number: 2008944256
DS1.A4739
UPLANDS—ASIA—PERIODICALS
TIBET, PLATEAU OF—PERIODICALS
CITATION: Rdo rje tshe brtan. 2013. A Tewo Tibetan Childhood. Asian
Highlands Perspectives 23.
SUMMARY: Rdo rje tshe brtan (b. 1986) describes his childhood in
Dredze Village, Yiwa Township, Tewo County, Gannan Tibetan
Autonomous Prefecture, Gansu Province, China, as well as being a
student in Xining City, Qinghai Province. Topics covered include his
family, childhood injuries and illnesses, education, Terang (malicious
household deities), mountain deities and associated rituals and
sacrifices, death, conflict with other locals, collecting local plants, a
birth in the village, stealing fruit, a wedding, plowing, a visit to a hot
spring, a lost yak, slaughtering pigs, and government confiscation of
fields. Photos provide additional detail.
FRONT COVER: Villagers en route to a ladze celebration in Tewo
County on 1 May 2012 (Gonbo Jay).
BACK COVER: Rdo rje tshe brtan, 9 September 2012 (Lhamo Tsering).
© All work contained herein is subject to a Creative Commons,
Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License and may be
quoted, copied, and distributed for non-commercial purposes if
appropriate attribution is given. See http://creativecommons.org/
licenses/by-nc/3.0/deed.en_US for more information.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
CK Stuart
Gerald Roche
Rin chen rdo rje
Richard Harlan
Timothy Thurston
Yin Dalong 尹大龙
Rose Hyson
Gabriela Samcewicz
•3•
Tewo County, Gannan Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture, Gansu
Province, PR China.1! !
An altered version of:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Location_of_T%C3%AAwo_within_Gans
u_(China).png#file, accessed 14 February 2012.
•4•
1
CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS <3>
MAP<4>
CONTENTS <5>
INTRODUCTION <6>
1: MY FAMILY <9>
2: A SCAR <12>
3: GREEN PEPPERS MAKE ME CRY <15>
4: THE VILLAGE SCHOOL <22>
5: A THREE-WHEELED CAR <30>
6: CONSTIPATED <33>
7: TERANG <36>
8: SACRIFICES TO MOUNTAIN DEITIES <40>
9: PRIMARY BOARDING SCHOOL <48>
10: DEATH <54>
11: CIRCUMAMBULATING A DIVINE MOUNTAIN <65>
12: ANTLERS <70>
13: A BAD COLD <73>
14: FIGHTING <76>
15: GRADUATION <79>
16: STEALING APPLES <83>
17: BIRTHDAY <87>
18: TEWO TIBETAN MIDDLE SCHOOL <90>
19: A WEDDING PARTY <93>
20: PLOWING <97>
21: CHURNING MILK <100>
22: TRAGEDY <103>
23: A HOT SPRING <106>
24: THE GANLHO NORMAL SCHOOL <109>
25: A LOST YAK <112>
26: GREEN ENVIRONMENT <115>
27: SLAUGHTERING PIGS <117>
28: CONCLUSION <120>
PHOTOGRAPHS <121>
NON-ENGLISH TERMS <150>
•5•
INTRODUCTION
am from Dredze Village, Yiwa Township, Tewo County, Gannan
I
Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture, Gansu Province, China. Mother
cannot remember the exact date when I entered this world and
gave my first feeble cry, other than that the year was 1986. I came
out from under her Tibetan robe one evening after a day of
harvesting. Cousin later told me that during his first night in Lhasa
after a long trek on foot, he dreamed of three white stupas appearing
auspiciously in front of our family shrine, convincing him that
Mother had given birth to a son. The next morning he rose very early,
went to the Jokang,2 and prayed that I would have a successful life.
•••
Summer vacation began and all the students went home, except for
the Grade Two senior middle school classes because we were required
to take a provincial-level Chinese language exam. I happened to meet
my English teacher in the schoolyard at noon who said, "Your class is
lucky. A teacher will come to select students from your class to study
English in Ziling next term. It's a special opportunity."
Later that day, the monitor called me from outside the
dormitory to come to our classroom for a short meeting. I realized
that we were going to choose students for the English Training
Program (ETP) at Qinghai Normal University. I hurried to the
classroom, hoping to be chosen. The Tibetan Department leader and
our head teacher stood near the windows as a stranger stood on the
2
Tibetans believe this is the most important and sacred temple in Tibet.
The temple was built for King Songtsan Gampo's (569–649?/ 605–649?)
Chinese and Nepalese brides, who are said to have brought important deity
images from China and Nepal and placed them here.
•6•
teacher's platform introducing the ETP. Afterwards, my classmates
chose eight students by writing their names on pieces of paper and
giving them to the stranger. Fortunately, I was selected. Next, the
stranger gave the eight finalists a Chinese text entitled 'The Monkey
and the Elephant' 3 to translate from Chinese to Tibetan in ten
minutes. He said he would select the three students who did the best
translations. After the translation exercise, we each had an oral exam.
Finally, the department leader called me and two other students and
gave us each a red paper that said we had been chosen to study
English in Ziling.
I then began a new, happy, and challenging life, studying
English and other subjects at Qinghai Normal University. My
classmates were from Sichuan, Gansu, Yunnan, and Qinghai
provinces and the Tibet Autonomous Region. Two years later, in
March 2007, I enrolled in a two-year college program at the same
university. Throughout, I pushed myself to try new things and to be
different from my village elders who seem so powerless in today's
world. I also knew that if I really cared about those who loved and
encouraged me, I had to study very hard.
Learning English opened my mind and broadened my
worldview. I see things differently now than I did before. I hope my
future will be as glorious as those shimmering white stupas my
cousin dreamed of years ago. I believe that if I struggle against
obstacles, I will never be defeated.
•••
Elders told me the Jone Bonbo ruled Tewo and Jone counties until
the Red Army arrived. At that time, more than 500 farming
3
A story with a well-known Tibetan motif derived from the Jataka tales of
the Buddha's former lives. It involves an elephant, monkey, rabbit, and bird
and teaches the value of peaceful, harmonious co-existence.
•7•
households had to pay heavy taxes - five or six large leather bags of
grain, regardless of good harvest or bad. The tax official, after
collecting the grain tax, then selected ten to fifteen men from each
village to transport the grain tax to the Jone Bonbo with mules,
horses, and yaks. It took them three days through dense forests and
high mountains to travel from Tewo to the Jone County Town. They
encountered dangerous wild animals and thieves on the way. The
Jone Bonbo greeted them warmly when they arrived, offered them a
feast, and gave them receipts for the taxes. Then they returned home.
My village was not required to pay taxes in the same way
because The Jone Bonbo had killed thousands of Muslims in Kache.
In time, the Chinese Government noticed and ordered the Jone
Bonbo to be imprisoned. However, a hero from my village who looked
like the Jone Bonbo was sent to jail in his place. My village was proud
of him, but sad that he never returned. Thus my village paid taxes to
this hero's family and, even today, villagers continue to show respect
to his descendants.
When I was a little child, Young Uncle told me our village was
called Grain Village. Formerly, all the local people worked together
on farmland where they plowed thousands of mu;4 planted beans,
wheat, barley, rapeseed, and garden peas; harvested the crops
together; and then stored the harvested grain in my village in
granaries surrounded by thick walls of stones and earth. My village
protected the grain, thus the name Grain Village.
4
Fifteen mu equals one hectare.
•8•
1
MY FAMILY
other (Jeeshi Tso) was born in 1942. Her parents passed
M
away, Mother said, because of poor medical care,
impoverished living conditions, bad roads, and because the
county hospital was so far away. Her mother was sick for a
long time and then died when Mother was a young child in
a mountain village called Shaza, which is where my aunt's family lives
today. A neighbor shot and killed mother's father while he was
working on the roof of a wood house, the result of conflict over water
rights. Mother didn't give more detailed information and I didn't ask.
Cousin (Padba Jay) is Mother's elder sister's son, and was born
in 1960. His mother died when he was nine. I don't know anything
about his father because Mother and Young Uncle never told me.
Mother said that after villagers dug potatoes, she went back and
searched and dug in the potato fields for a long time, found one or
two potatoes, returned home, boiled them, and fed Cousin. Mother
raised him and, for this reason, I call him 'Brother'. After Cousin grew
up, my family divided property and farmland. He then married and
established his own household. Though Cousin and I live in different
homes in Dredze Village, Cousin helps my family when we need it.
Elder Uncle (Wande Tar) is Mother's older brother, and was
born in 1934. He passed away from an incurable intestinal illness
when I was studying in primary school. He herded livestock and pigs
on the summer pasture during the summer and fall. He carried me on
•9•
his back around the village, circling the village mani stone pile5 when
he had time. He herded village livestock in the mountains and when
he returned, he went to each household to tell the villagers where
their livestock were. Everyone loved him, and gave him food when he
was sick. Many came and offered money and chanted mani at his
funeral.
Young Uncle (Taba) is Mother's younger brother. He was born
in 1938 and was my first Tibetan teacher before I attended our
village's primary school. He was a knowledgeable monk and a leader
in the local monastery. During the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976),
he was forced to become a layman to support my family, among other
reasons. He lives at home and helps Mother and our family. He never
married. I spent my childhood with him and learned a lot from his
many life experiences.
Elder Sister (Dorjee Man) is Mother's elder daughter, and was
born in 1977. She married a man in another township when I was a
little child. Her father is from a mountain village in my community. I
have little memory about her wedding other than villagers and
relatives kissing her cheeks when she left for her husband's home. I
was overjoyed and rushed to her whenever she returned home,
because she brought candies and drinks for me.
Young Sister (Lama Tso) is Mother's younger daughter, and
was born in 1980. She is an unmarried adult in my village. I don't
know who her father is, and I don't know who my father is. Because
of my family's poor condition, my family decided I should attend
school. Lama Tso stopped her education when she was in grade three,
and stayed at home to work in the fields. She also leaves the village to
do construction work to support my education and family. I love her
oM ma Ni pad+me hUM is a common six syllable mantra associated
with Avalokiteshvara, the Bodhisattva of Compassion. This mantra is carved
into rocks and then placed in piles that people walk around as part of their
religious practice.
•10•
5
most in my family, though I do not forget that she heartlessly beat me
several times when I was little boy.
•11•
2
A SCAR
You can't hit a target when you hate it. local proverb
was four years old, playing aimlessly in the courtyard one
I
beautiful summer day. Hardworking bees flew busily in our
garden, collecting whatever bees collect from five-colored flowers
blooming and waving their heads, as if welcoming all sentient
beings to their world. A warm breeze that was both energizing
and relaxing blew gently across the garden. Village herders drove
livestock past the garden, punctuating the calm with the melodious
tinkling of bells.
Mother called, "Dordor, bring me the stool hanging by the
pigsty. I need it for milking," while pulling a calf from its mother to
keep it from drinking all the milk. After tying the calf, she sat on a
stool by the zomo,6 held a milk-pail between her legs, rubbed the
teats with fresh butter, and proceeded to milk it. Elder Sister milked
when she lived at home, but after marrying and moving into her
husband's home in another township, Mother was left to milk the
zomo and cows.
"OK," I replied rushing to get the stool. I handed it to her, and
watched as she milked skillfully into the pail while the hungry calf
jerked at its restraining rope with all its might, trying to reach its
mother's udder.
Elder Uncle tended pigs on the village pasture and, when he
had time, went to the local mountain pasture and herded yaks, mules,
and horses. Mother said that ever since my family had moved to this
6
A yak-cow hybrid prized for its milk production.
•12•
farming village, Elder Uncle's only duty had been tending livestock at
home and on the mountains.
"Move! Otherwise she'll kick you! She's angry and doesn't
want to give much milk today!" Mother shouted because I was
standing too close to the zomo.
"OK, but she's gentle with me. I'm sure she won't kick.
Sometimes I ride on her back when I herd with Elder Uncle," I said
confidently.
"My boy, be obedient and get behind me," she said sternly. I
obeyed and slowly moved behind her. Patiently she continued to milk
the old colored cow. Mother said with a warm smile, "This cow is like
a Xinjiang cow,7 and gives more milk than the others."
Elder Uncle banged on the gate, shouting "Open the door! The
pigs won't follow my beans. It's difficult for me to drive them to the
pigsty this afternoon because of the rain. Open the door wide!" and
then he ran back for the straggling pigs.
"Dordor, go open the door and don't make any noise as the
pigs enter," Mother ordered.
"OK," I said, rushing there, unlocking the door, swinging it
open, then standing behind it and holding it open. A neighbor's
tractor had run into the gate, damaging it some days earlier.
Elder Uncle was giving beans to the lead pig. All the others
followed it into the courtyard like students following their teacher to
a picnic on the grassland. I ran to the pigsty, opening the door as
Elder Uncle had instructed, but I frightened the pigs when I tried to
drive them into the pigsty with a long bamboo pole.
Elder Uncle was furious with the pigs. He beat the head of one
pig and then threw a hoe at the pigs, but missed. As a proverb goes,
"You can't hit a target when you hate it." Indeed, the hoe sprang up
7
It has a large udder and is known for its milk production.
•13•
off the ground and hit my left eye, knocking me to the ground. I saw
rainbow colors, then nothing more.
I woke up several times that night, surrounded by my
concerned family, especially sorrowful Elder Uncle. Mother stayed up
all night by my bed, comforting me every time I awakened.
Elder Uncle came to my bed early next morning and asked,
"How badly is your eye hurt? I don't know what to say. I feel useless. I
couldn't sleep last night thinking about your injury." He thought that
the hoe had permanently damaged my eye, but my vision was fine.
One side of my face hurt, but I pretended that I felt nothing because I
knew Mother would scold him if I complained.
"My eye is fine. The hoe hurt my cheek a little," I said softly,
kissing his forehead. "I'm really OK. Don't be sad, or I'll be
uncomfortable." Then I stood and jumped several times on the bed
energetically to prove how good I felt, though I was still weak and
dizzy.
"If it just hit your face, you'll recover soon," Mother said, and
then went to the kitchen to cook breakfast. Her eyes were red from a
sleepless night, spent caring for me. A small scar still remains on my
face. I remember Elder Uncle's head bent in front of my bed every
time I see that scar.
•14•
3
GREEN PEPPERS MAKE ME CRY
was asleep one day in late autumn as the golden sun gradually
I
crested the top of the mountains in the east. Magnificent green
mountains stretched high above each side of the village, like
dragons crouched on the horizons. A gentle stream meandered
past the village, flowing into White Dragon River. Locals said this
is a medicinal stream flowing from distant Dawa Mountain. The
legend of Dawa Mountain is told differently in each village but, in my
village, Dawa is a great deity, protecting all people and livestock from
harm and illness, just as though the village were tucked in the sleeve
of his robe. He is a very great deity and very kind to locals.
I was awakened suddenly from a deep sleep on the dzeto8 by
two yowling cats violently fighting on the second story of my home. I
was frightened and snuggled deeper into my wool quilt, listening.
Thinking there was no one around and hearing no one, I cried louder
and louder.
"Don't cry, my son. I'm here," Young Uncle said. He favored
me because I was the youngest child and only boy in my family. I
watched Young Uncle from under my quilt as he took a stick among
the firewood from behind the door, rushed to the second story, drove
the cats away, and shouted, "Devils! How dare you come here with
your ominous yowls! I'll kill you all!" He came back flushed with
anger, washed his hands, and quickly made a butter lamp. Putting it
A raised, earthen platform. The front is an adobe stove used for cooking.
Hot air and smoke are drawn through the platform and out the back of the
house. Family members sleep here because it is very warm. Important
relatives and guests are also entertained and sleep here when they visit.
•15•
8
in front of the shrine and clasping his palms together, he touched his
forehead, mouth, and chest three times while chanting the Six Sacred
Syllables.9
I casually rubbed my face with my hands, turning my back to
the brilliant sun shining through the windows. "Get dressed. I'll help
if you need it," Young Uncle called.
"Where's Mother? I want to get up. Can you bring my
clothes?" I asked, frustrated that I didn't see my clothes anywhere
near me.
"Your clothes are under your pillow. Put them on before your
mother comes or she'll be angry," he said. He wanted me to do things
by myself. He chopped firewood in the courtyard, returned, and
kindled a fire in the stove with the wood he had chopped.
"Maybe he's going to cook breakfast," I thought. "Please help
me, Young Uncle," I pleaded. I had tried several times to put my
clothes on, but it was difficult, especially my woolen shoes. He told
me to sit on the edge of the dzeto, helped me dress, fetched a basin of
warm water and my towel, washed my face, and rubbed a little fresh
butter on my face.
"I want some milk tea," I said after I finished washing. I
hurried into the dining room where Young Uncle had prepared a
delicious breakfast.
"Eat. Make sure your little tummy is full," he said kindly.
"Did Mother eat breakfast this morning?" I asked curiously.
"No. She went to the county town very early this morning. She
promised to buy a box of biscuits and new summer shoes for you," he
said.
I was excited to hear that and quickly finished my breakfast.
Next, Young Uncle and I went into the courtyard to enjoy the
sunshine. Young Uncle sat by me on a small square of sheepskin and
9
oM ma Ni pad+me hUM.
•16•
said, "Come sit on my lap. I saw you scratching your head. Maybe I
can find some lice." His hands gently smoothed my hair from back to
front, picking one louse after another. Sometimes he killed the lice
between his teeth, which made a popping sound. Sometimes he killed
the lice between his thumbnails, which sounded even louder than
between his teeth.
"Go sit in the sunshine now. It's good for your health. Old
people say children should get sunshine on their bodies for fifteen or
twenty minutes every day," he said, when he finished lice-hunting.
"Young Uncle, what time will Mother return?" I asked
impatiently, as I walked around the courtyard, pulling a small car
made by my gentle neighbor, Gonboo Jay, because he liked me. Of
course, I loved him, because he was handsome, honest, and especially
kind to poor children.
"Be patient, my boy," he said, as he opened his sheepskin
sewing bag and began mending some tattered clothes. He often
looked after me when Mother was absent, chanting scriptures, and
teaching me the Tibetan alphabet.
"Ha! Mother will buy me some candy and new shoes," I said
happily. I filled my car with dry dirt and circled the courtyard. I don't
know how much time passed as I played with my little car. It was a
sunny day with not a single cloud in the sky, making everyone relaxed
and happy.
"Come here, my boy, and put these on your feet. Your mother
will return early this afternoon. Sit by me. I have a question for you:
Who do you love more, your mother or me?" he said, pointing his
forefinger at his forehead. He had finished mending my socks and
stood stretching his hands in the air and yawning.
"I love Mother with all my heart, because she buys things for
me, but you don't," I said.
•17•
"I'll buy you a new car when I go to the Mani Ritual10 at
Lhamo Monastery,"11 he said.
"Young Uncle, I love you, too," I said, as soon as he promised
that.
"I hope you will be a great man when you grow up, love me all
the time, take care of the family as I wish, because, when our family
first came here…" he started, and then swallowed the rest of his
words. I felt sure he had important things to tell me when I was older.
Mother said my family lived in a mountain village where my elder
aunt married and had five children. My family had many difficulties
when they moved to Dredze Village where I was born. The local
village helped us move our furniture from the mountain village to
Dredze Village at night, because policies were harsh after the Red
Army came. Other than that, I didn't know what had happened to my
family. I didn't ask Mother, and she and Young Uncle didn't tell me.
Young Uncle stood and said, "Put these on now. You wore
boots without socks this morning. Don't run outside. I'll be back
shortly." He put the socks beside me and went to the kitchen to fetch
a basin of cool water.
"Did you put the socks on?" he asked when he returned.
"No, I can't. Please help me," I said, nearly bursting into tears
because, as usual, it was difficult for me to deal with my socks and
wool boots, and I couldn't untie my bootlaces. He helped me untie the
laces and put the socks on.
"That should keep your feet warm until bedtime," he said.
I could do only two things for my family by myself - open the
gate for the livestock to enter and drive away the neighbors' pigs
A seven-day religious ritual. Participants are forbidden to drink alcohol,
eat meat and garlic, and have sex.
11 A large Buddhist monastery located in Zorgay County, Ngawa Prefecture,
Sichuan Province, near Machu, Tewo, and Luchu counties in Ganlho
Prefecture, Gansu Province.
•18•
10
when they entered our pig sty to eat leftover food or sleep lazily.
Sometimes I entertained myself by riding on their backs and
watching them fight each other.
I wore a small jacket that my sister had bought for me the
previous New Year holiday. I wore it every day in summer, because
my friends said it was beautiful and fashionable. I wore it the entire
summer without washing it. I also wore a sacred amulet a local lama
gave me when I was ill.
"Come hold my hand! We'll go wait for your mother at the
village bridge," Young Uncle said warmly.
"OK," I replied, hurrying to catch up with him. He closed the
courtyard gate and made sure it was locked.
Surrounding the village are dense forests where we secretly
cut trees when we need wood for buildings. Local homes are made of
wood, and their beautifully decorated gates are magnificent,
displaying the family's wealth. Some are carved with the Eight
Auspicious Symbols12 and painted brilliant colors.
I pulled my wood car with one hand and held Young Uncle's
robe sleeve with the other. I saw other children jumping rope and
chasing each other. My favorite game was 'Wolf-and-Sheep'. It was
very hard for girls to catch boys, and sometimes they never caught
boys during the game. My family didn't let me join, because Mother
said that I was wilder than other children, and she worried that I
would injure other children by being too rough.
Many old people were circumambulating the mani-stone pile
by the bridge, chanting the scripture of the Three Jewels.13 Some
fingered prayer beads as they chanted, others spun prayer wheels.
The Eight Auspicious Symbols consist of a protection parasol, a pair of
gold fish, a treasure vase, a lotus, a white conch shell, a victory banner, an
endless knot, and the gold wheel of the dharma.
13 The Three Jewels are the Buddha, the Dharma (the Buddha's teachings),
and the Sangha (the monastic community). This particular scripture is
chanted in the early morning and late afternoon by locals.
•19•
12
Young Uncle and I circled the mani-stone pile, waiting impatiently
for Mother. Trucks zoomed by on the road, but none stopped by the
village bridge. As I was wondering what had kept Mother busy in
town for such a long time, a large truck stopped at the bridge. Mother
got off and began taking what she had purchased in the county town
from the truck. I shouted, "Mother is getting off the truck!" jumping
up and down, pointing to where she was.
"Your mother needs help. Let's go," Young Uncle said, as he
headed for the truck, with me running after him as fast as I could.
"What did you buy for me, Mother?" I demanded. Mother
handed me a pair of new shoes. Back at home a few minutes later,
Mother showed Young Uncle, Elder Uncle, Young Sister, and Elder
Sister what she had bought. Young Uncle helped me put on my new
shoes. Mother had also bought flour and peppers. Young Uncle put
the peppers on a plate on the table.
I played with my toys on the dzeto while Mother made supper,
and Young Uncle went outside to feed the livestock. Elder Sister,
Young Sister, and Elder Uncle were busy with various chores as I
happily pushed a toy car back and forth on the table until it bumped
the plate of peppers. I picked one up and put it in my mouth, which
burned as soon as I bit into it. My face turned hot. I rubbed my face
trying to make it cooler, but this only made things worse. My face
turned red as an apple, and I could not open my eyes. When I rubbed
them, the pain was like needles stabbing into my eyes. I yelled to
Mother and Young Uncle to help, while covering my eyes with my
hands, crying, and kicking my feet in the air.
"What happened to you, baby?" Mother said, rushing over and
embracing me, rubbing my face with a wet towel.
I squalled that I didn't know what had happened, but Mother
quickly understood when she saw the half-eaten pepper.
"He bit a pepper and now his face is red," Mother explained.
•20•
"What shall we do?" Elder Sister asked as Mother, Young
Sister, Elder Uncle, and Young Uncle sat by the dzeto looking at me
with worried, sad faces.
"I have some nectar and a sacred cloth given by a great lama
at Lhamo Monastery last year," Young Uncle said, moving quickly to
the shrine. He brought it back, carefully rubbed it on my face, and
then placed the sacred cloth underneath me, which seemed to ease
the pain.
"Take him out into the courtyard and let the wind blow on his
face," Mother said, putting me on Young Uncle's back and tying me
tight with his sash. It was now night, and the moon was shining high
in the sky as if it were trying to comfort me. The stars shone
brilliantly as I squinted at the tranquil sky, and eventually fell asleep
on Young Uncle's back.
The next morning, I awoke to the smell of sung14 burning on
the altar. Mother was chanting the scripture of the Three Jewels. She
opened her leather wallet, counted her money, and said, "I will take
you to the county town to see the doctor about your swollen face."
I was exhausted and tasted pepper when I licked my lips.
Barley flour, wheat, beans, rice, milk, juniper leaves, and pieces of conifer
wood burned as an offering.
•21•
14
4
THE VILLAGE SCHOOL
t was customary for boys to stay at home and support the family.
I
It was shameful if no sons stayed at home and cared for their
parents. I was the only son in my home, and I believed that it was
my karma to live with my family. When I was two, Mother, Young
Uncle, and Elder Uncle agreed that Elder Sister should marry and
live with her husband in his village. "It's fine because we have a son
who will support us in the future," Mother said.
•••
"Dordor, it's time to get up and eat breakfast," called Young Uncle
from the kitchen.
"OK," I replied, pulling on my worn clothes.
"Dordor, look at your boots. You have them on the wrong feet.
Change them right now," Mother said, laughing as she filled our
bowls with black tea. I sat on the ground, switched my boots, and tied
my bootlaces again.
"Sit here by me, my boy, and show me your handsome face,"
Young Uncle said, putting a small square of sheepskin on the ground
for me to sit on.
"Do you want to learn more Tibetan this morning? You're
learning quickly these days. I'm happy you're going with your mother
to enroll in the village school today," Young Uncle said with a proud
smile. When I was four, he had begun teaching me the Tibetan
alphabet and to write and read common Tibetan words.
I was happy at the thought of joining other students from our
village at school, where I could play and make new friends. I jumped
•22•
joyously, thinking, "I'll be a free as a mouse that has escaped a cat. No
longer will I have to stay at home with Young Uncle." I really didn't
know what students did at school. I then stopped jumping, squinted
at Young Uncle, and said, "This morning I don't want to learn Tibetan.
Instead, tell me what it means to go to school."
"School is where you learn to read and write with children
your age, and where you obtain knowledge from teachers and books.
This will open your mind, and you will become intelligent," Yong
Uncle explained.
"What is knowledge?" I asked.
"Knowledge is something you learn in school that stays in
your mind like a jewel that money cannot buy and a thief cannot
steal," Young Uncle explained, sipping tea from his cup.
"Is it difficult to get?" I asked.
"Yes, knowledge is like a mountain. You walk to the
mountaintop step by step, eventually reaching the top. But you need
patience, energy, and determination to achieve it," Young Uncle said.
I suddenly pictured Tiger Mountain, a huge mountain near my home,
in my mind. In summer, visitors spend half a day climbing it to relax
and take pictures.
"What is the purpose of education?" I persisted, leaning
against Mother.
"Education will help you get a job and have a splendid life in
the future. You can use your knowledge to bring prestige to our
family reputation and …" he paused, sadly looking at the ground.
"And what?" I demanded.
"You are too young to understand. You will experience these
things when you are older," Young Uncle said thoughtfully, hiding
something from me.
"OK, I understand," I replied and nodded. I wanted to attend
school with other village children and learn Tibetan and arithmetic.
•23•
Young Uncle never told me his life story, and why he became a
layman. Mother only told me he had been a great monk in the local
monastery before the Cultural Revolution. He was knowledgeable
and chanted scriptures for poor families without payment. He was
the local monastery abbot and was extremely busy. He sat on a high
seat at the front of the chanting hall and led all the monks in chanting
scriptures as local people worshipped. He had painted religious
images. Many of his works hung from the ceiling of the chanting hall.
He also made beautiful dorma15 with other monks. Since no lamas
maintained the monastery, he depended on local people and his own
effort. The other monks greatly respected him. The local people also
respected him for his knowledge of scriptures and his blessings at
monastery religious activities. He taught many students from local
communities in the monastery.
During the Cultural Revolution he had tried to stop men from
smashing the Buddha images, beating monks, and burning the
monastery, but it was all in vain. As the years passed, he met many
more difficulties, and finally he became a layman. Grandmother had
ten children living in poverty, without adequate food and clothes.
Consequently, Young Uncle returned home and organized the family
to work in mountain fields so that they could survive during that
terrible time.
"Now, we need to go to the village school and register. I told
the head teacher that you would attend kindergarten," Mother said.
"OK, but what is kindergarten?" I said, pulling my wood car
behind me as we walked out past the shadow of the courtyard wall.
"This class teaches the Tibetan alphabet and arithmetic to
new students," Mother said.
"Mother, I already learned Tibetan at home from Young Uncle.
Made by mixing barley flour and water and creating images of different
sizes and shapes. They are painted different colors and offered to ghosts and
devils.
•24•
15
I don't need to attend kindergarten to learn Tibetan," I said.
"You don't know enough Tibetan to attend grade one," she
said.
"All right," I said.
"Dordor, remember to wear your hat. When you are outside,
the weather is hot and the sun will burn your skin," she said.
"OK," I replied, rushing back to my bedroom to get my hat
from under my pillow.
"Hold my sleeve and don't run away," Mother said, closing the
gate behind us.
"I'll follow you and be a good boy if you'll cancel my Tibetan
classes at home with Young Uncle," I pleaded.
"Why?" she said.
"Because I'll learn Tibetan at school soon, so …" I said and
stopped. I didn't want to make Mother angry. She spanked me when
she was in a bad mood.
There were many new students with their parents from both
the mountain villages and the local village gathered at the school
when we arrived. Some were called to the head teacher's office, where
new students were registering. They were all wearing new clothes and
new shoes, and carrying new schoolbags. I was embarrassed that my
clothes were not new. As I glanced at the other new students,
frustration built inside me until I nearly burst into tears. I knew none
of the children from the mountain villages. Mother introduced me to
one: "His name is Buntso. His mother's name is Dorjee Tso. They are
from our old village."
I knew only Lhamo Jay and Tsekho, who were my neighbors
and friends.
"Is this cute boy your son? He looks very smart," an old
woman said. "Children grow up so quickly."
"I don't feel he is growing up very quickly. Are you
•25•
registering?" Mother asked kindly, putting her right hand to her
forehead as a shield against the sun.
"No, I came to throw garbage away. I'm on my way home and
saw you here," the old woman said, turning prayer beads in her
wrinkled hand, quietly chanting the Six Sacred Syllables under her
breath.
"I see. How is your health?" Mother asked.
"Good, but it could be better," the old woman said. Then she
turned to me and said, "Study hard at school. Don't fight with others,
Dordor, or the teachers will be angry with you. Oh! I must go home
now," she concluded, stroked my head, turned, headed through the
gate, and vanished from view.
"Who is that old woman, Mother?" I asked.
"Aunt Agung - one of Cousin-in-law's relatives," Mother said.
"Oh, I see," I replied, rubbing my head because something was
moving there.
Many new students passed through the school gate, where a
board hung on either side with the school name in Tibetan and
Chinese. I could slowly read the Tibetan words. Mother and I entered
the school office, which was empty except for two teachers. We were
the last to register.
"Come sit down," one teacher said with a smile.
"Thanks," Mother said.
"This is Teacher Agon, who is from our village. Call him
Brother Agon," Mother said. According to local custom, adding
'Brother' before names of males who are older than you indicates
respect.
I waited shyly.
"What grade are you in? Grade one has two classes, and grade
two has one class. Do you want to attend kindergarten or grade one?
What is your name and age?" Teacher Agon asked.
•26•
Mother looked at him strangely and told me later that since
Teacher Agon was from our village, he should have known my name
and age. However, my family usually kept me at home. Many local
children and adults didn't know who I was, and I also did not know
who they were.
"His name is Dorjee Tsedan, he is six years old, and he is from
our village. He will attend kindergarten this year," Mother said.
Teacher Agon added my name to one of the lists.
"Punish him when he doesn't listen to class or finish his
homework on time," Mother said.
"I will," Teacher Agon said. "Come to school tomorrow
morning at ten o'clock. I will arrange the classrooms, desks, and
chairs. You will help clean your classroom and the schoolyard. I will
give you your new school books afterwards."
"OK," I said. I was very excited to attend school and get new
books just as Young Sister had said.
"This term, Teacher Yumtso and I will have many new
students from the mountain villages," Teacher Agon said happily.
Teacher Yumtso was sitting behind an old desk and writing
something in a notebook. She nodded her head with a gentle smile as
Teacher Agon introduced me.
Teacher Yumtso taught arithmetic. She was from a poor
family in Bugang Village. She had failed higher education exams
when she graduated from the Tewo Tibetan Middle School. She then
returned home, and studied by herself while helping her family. The
leader of the Tewo County Education Bureau gave her a job at my
village school. She was a responsible, strict teacher. She looked much
younger than Mother.
"Thanks Agon," Mother said warmly.
"I'm happy your son will attend school. May he have a much
better life than we have and be the best student in school," Teacher
•27•
Agon said. He also had no college diploma and, like Teacher Yumtso,
his salary was quite low. Mother said Teacher Agon was a student of
Akhu Nyima, who had studied only Tibetan for many years in Zorgay
County. Teacher Agon's written Tibetan was much better than any of
the other local people's.
"I hope so," Mother replied, and then said good-bye to
Teacher Agon as we turned and left.
"His written Tibetan is very good and he is kind to students.
He didn't continue beyond middle school after he graduated from
primary school, however, teachers who graduated from college can't
compare with him, because he studied Tibetan for five years in a
monastery after primary school," Mother said on the way home. Then
she added, "Teachers Agon and Yumtso have taught Tibetan and
arithmetic at the village school for many years."
That night Mother mended the school bag that Young Sister
had used before she dropped out when she was in grade three,
because I had been chosen to go to school. Very few girls from our
village attended school.
I happily took my bag the next morning and started walking
to school. There were eight students in kindergarten. I learned the
Tibetan alphabet again and also began learning numbers from one to
one hundred. Gradually, I learned the names of the students and
their parents. I made friends with Tsekho and Buntso the first week.
We shared our cornbread and helped each other when we fought with
others.
Teacher Yumtso didn't come to class one wintry afternoon.
Some of us were chatting with each other while others were sitting by
the stove to get warm. I aimlessly drew nonsensical pictures in my
notebook by the stove. Unfortunately, Teacher Agon noticed this,
pinched my right ear, and said "When the cat's away, the mice do
play."
•28•
I looked around at my classmates, who pretended to be doing
homework.
The mountain students went home on Friday afternoon.
Sometimes students from my village fought with them. We threw
small stones at each other, but didn't hit each other because of the
distance between us. We shouted bad names at them as they walked
further up the mountain. No one ever won. We did this just for fun.
By the next Monday, we had all forgotten what had happened and
jumped rope and played basketball in the schoolyard with each other
in our free time. Sometimes Teacher Agon taught us Tibetan songs
and told us tales about ghosts and King Gesar. We sang Tibetan songs
we had learned while groups of us were going or coming to school.
Villagers applauded proudly when they heard us.
I got high scores in my class and earned the top prize every
year until I graduated. I didn't see my arithmetic teacher, Yumtso,
again after I entered grade two. She married a Tibetan bus driver in
the county town and went to live there.
My family didn't let me attend primary school when I finished
grade two, because it was a boarding school far from my home. I
attended the village school until the age of ten and then stayed at
home and herded pigs for two years with village herdsmen. I loved
the village school because I made many friends, played with them,
and had class with them.
•29•
5
A THREE-WHEELED CAR
ordor, do you want to join us? You can ride this car when it
D
is your turn," Lhamo Jay said, pushing Dantsering along the
village path. Dantsering sat in a wood car, steering it
arrogantly as I watched, leaning against a village wall.
"I want to join," I said, running after them joyously.
"Good. You're stronger than me. Let's push him once around
the village, then you drive the car and I'll push you," Lhamo Jay said
fairly, collapsing to the ground and panting. Dantsering was the only
village child who had a wood car big enough to ride in. His brother
drove a logging truck, had brought some old wheels home, and had
made a wood car with help from a carpenter. The car's front wheel
was a little bigger than the two rear wheels, and the three wheels
squealed when it went fast.
"OK," I said and pushed Dantsering around in a big circle with
all my might. He deliberately steered the car into a much bigger circle
than he had shown me on the ground with a stick.
"Now it is your turn to ride my car. Because you're new, we'll
go around this big circle one time," Dantsering said authoritatively. I
then steered the car one time around in the circle as Lhamo Jay
pushed me.
"You two listen carefully: there's a rule for riding in this car,"
Dantsering said. "Each of you must push me around three times and
then you can drive around one time. You can't ride in this car unless
you obey the rule, because the car is mine."
"OK, I'll go after you Dantsering," Lhamo Jay said.
•30•
"Do you agree, Dordor?" Dantsering asked.
"It's not fair. We should push you around two times when it's
your turn," I said.
"Why?" he asked, standing up in the car and looking at me
stupidly. He was four or five years older than me and much taller.
"Because we push you together around this circle two times as
fast as you wish, with you driving at high speed like a truck driver," I
persuaded. We argued for about a half hour. Finally, we reached a fair
agreement about driving the wood car.
"OK, but you must push me around twice without stopping
with all your strength," Dantsering said. He stood with his hands in
his pockets while Lhamo Jay and I took turns pushing each other
around the circle.
A child from a rich village family slowly peddled his small bike
around us. He pulled up the front wheel and accelerated the bike
after a short run. Children ran after him, admiring the bike as he
scooted here and there. The boy was very insulting to the children
whenever someone touched his bike. He wouldn't let other children
ride the bike and sometimes shouted at them without justification.
I begged Young Uncle to make me a wood car like the one
Dantsering had. One afternoon, when I returned home from the
village school, I was overjoyed to see that Young Uncle had brought
three old wheels from the county town and was sawing a wood block
with great care.
"Are you happy now? I'm making a new three-wheel car for
you," Young Uncle said warmly, handing me some candy.
"Oh yes! Can I help you with anything, Young Uncle?" I asked
happily, removing the candy wrapper.
"No, the car is nearly finished," he said.
I rushed next door, calling to my friend, Lhamo Jay. I told
him Young Uncle had made me a new wood car. He was very excited
•31•
to hear that. We later drove the car and pushed each other.
Sometimes we competed with Dantsering. We won all of the
competitions with him because he was heavy and those pushing him
weren't strong enough to push him fast.
I was proud of my three-wheel car, which I always drove with
Lhamo Jay. I enjoyed it when children ran after us. Occasionally, I let
others drive my car when they begged me, and I never insulted or hit
them if they touched the car.
•32•
6
CONSTIPATED
he chirping of morning birds broke the tranquil village dawn. I
T
woke from a nightmare on the dzeto, suffering from a terrible
stomachache. I tried to lift my head from the pillow that
leaned against the wooden chest behind it. I clutched my belly,
writhed in pain, and thought, "I would rather work hard in the fields
than be ill."
Young Uncle often said, "Illnesses are the most dangerous
enemy unless you defeat them. The most important thing is caring for
your health, because losing it means losing your life."
Earlier that morning, Mother and Young Sister had gone to
the mountains to cut grass for our livestock to eat in winter. If a
village woman didn't get up very early, other women would cut all the
best grass. It was a challenge for village women to cut grass, because
my village was large but only had a small summer pasture. Women
and girls bore the heavy burden of working at home and in the fields.
Small families had about ten mu of farmland and large families had
about twenty mu to plow, weed, and harvest.
The sun shone brightly through the windows when Mother
and Young Sister returned, carrying huge bundles of grass on their
backs. I held my belly with tears in my swollen eyes as I lay on the
dzeto. Mother kindled a fire while Young Sister wearily washed and
combed her long black hair.
"How is your stomachache? Getting better?" said Mother
worriedly, putting tealeaves into the soot-covered kettle.
"I can't endure this. Do we have medicine?" I asked.
•33•
"No, but I know how my mother treated this when my siblings
and I were young," Mother said. She hurried into the kitchen and
returned with a handful of barley, which she rubbed on my belly
while chanting with an angry expression, "This weak boy has no flesh
for you to eat. This skeleton boy has no blood for you to drink. This
poor boy has no treasures for you to take. Your family is urgently
calling you. They have boiled pork for you to eat, prepared milk for
you to drink, and readied treasures for you to take. It's better to go
there and never return, Todsong, Todsong, Todsong (Family Stove
Deity), return to your home." Then Mother blew three times on the
barley she was holding and tossed it out through the gate. Villagers
believe that each family has such stove deities as Stomachache-stove
deity, Headache-stove deity, Kneeache-stove deity, and so on. If you
visit a family who has Headache-stove Deity and touch their stove
carelessly, then you will surely get a headache that night. This is
especially true for children who are active and inquisitive, and want
to touch everything.
Young Uncle said that I had touched my neighbor's
Stomachache-stove Deity. He told me not to enter neighbors' homes.
Even if Young Uncle and I visited Cousin's home, he made me sit on
his lap or by him - he never let me walk around freely.
Young Uncle made tsasong16 using the small shovel that he
used every morning, and took it smoking into the courtyard, and put
it on the ground while chanting the Sacred Six Syllables. He placed it
quite low because the local lama said that the spirits of dead family
members were about ten centimeters tall, and could not smell
tsasong if it was hung too high. Dead family members returned home
to smell it to kill their hunger and dared not eat or smell tsasong if
Hot ashes, barley flour, butter, and a little clean water are offered to
hungry ghosts and family stove deities. It is especially offered to a family
member who has died and whose spirit is believed to have returned home
with an empty stomach.
•34•
16
fire or embers were inside it.
"Are you better?" asked Mother.
"Not really," I answered. I didn't say more because talking was
painful.
"Well, Stomachache-stove deity will release you soon
because, when I tossed out the barley, our neighbor's gate was
opening. I am sure that stomachache-stove deity will leave soon,"
said Mother confidently. She then joined Young Sister and Young
Uncle for a lunch of tsamba17 and yogurt.
"Dordor, take this medicine with this cup of hot water,"
Mother said after returning, handing me some medicine that Young
Uncle had brought from the county town.
"OK, but it is very bitter," I said. Young Uncle encouraged me
to take the medicine three times a day, but the medicine was
ineffective. Next, Cousin went to Dorine, Sichuan Province and
brought medicine from a Tibetan doctor who said I should drink
more hot water and exercise more. I then drank so much hot water
that I could barely stand. Young Uncle helped me walk slowly around
the courtyard every day until finally, I could defecate. I took the
Tibetan medicines Cousin bought daily and my health slowly
improved. After half a month, I was totally well. Afterward, I was
afraid to eat tsamba and leftovers, which are hard to digest.
Roasted barley flour and hot black tea that is mixed with butter, dried
cheese, and a little sugar, and then squeezed into a ball to eat.
•35•
17
7
TERANG
erang 18 are powerful and invisible. They help and protect
T
people and can make you rich by bringing you what you
request. However, when you become the richest person in the
world, Terang return, set fire to your house, and burn
everything they have helped you gain. You are then the
poorest person in the world again, a mere beggar. Terang play with
you like a toy but, if you are smart, there is a way to be a rich person
forever.
"Listen and I'll tell you a story, but I have a condition before I
begin," Young Uncle said.
"What is your condition?" I said impatiently.
"You must retell the story when I finish," he said.
"Sure," I said.
Young Uncle then told me this story one night, as I was
recovering from my illness:
Many years ago, a very clever boy lived with his old mother. They
had only tsamba and black tea for their meals and had no
livestock. Their lives depended on the few mu they had near the
village. After working in the fields all day the boy went to a village
water mill one evening. His mother was grinding barley. He
watched the upper grindstone turn on the lower grindstone,
grinding the barley into flour that softly fell on a board below.
"These grindstones are wonderful! They grind whatever
you put in. They're valuable for our village, especially a poor
18
Ghost-like beings that live among humans.
•36•
family like us, aren't they?" the boy said as he put barley flour
into a bag.
"This water mill is only used by our poor family. Others no
longer need to use it," replied his mother, putting the last of the
roasted barley into the hole of the upper grindstone.
"I would take these grindstones home if I were strong
enough, because we are the only ones who use this mill in our
village," the boy said.
His mother laughed and said, "That's a good idea. It
would be very convenient for us, but how would you move them
to our courtyard?"
"I don't know," the boy replied. They then took the barley
flour home, where they ate simple food as usual, wore simple
clothes as usual, lived in a simple room as usual, and slept in a
simple bed as usual. The next morning when the boy went out to
pee, he was astonished to see the grindstones in his courtyard.
He wondered who had put them there, why, and how. He hurried
back to his mother and reported what he had seen.
"They do not belong to us and the villagers will certainly
find them. We must put them back as quickly as possible," his
mother said regretfully.
"How can we put them back?" the boy asked.
"We must put them back before the villagers notice," she
said.
"Yes, we must, or the village will surely fine us heavily,"
the boy said, then took a large tattered cloth and covered the
grindstones. They locked the outside gates securely and stayed
quietly inside their home without even making a fire the whole
day.
Meanwhile, the entire village was talking about Terang.
Some families wanted to be rich and wanted one in their home
because they were extremely poor and were denigrated by the
rich.
Terang are terrified of fire and light. Sacred scriptures on
prayer flags, mani-stones, and scripture chanting are like big
fires and Terang flee when they see them. Afterwards, Terang
•37•
call to the family they have helped from a far distance. "What has
happened to our family? Who did this?"
When family members hear this, they must answer
convincingly, "Our house burned in an accidental fire. We don't
know what caused this fire. We don't know how we will live from
this day onward. Please flee and never return." The family
continues this religious ritual for seven days. Terang are afraid of
fire, light, and Buddhist scriptures. They flee, extremely
disappointed, without looking back. If the family is unlucky and
does not know how to trick Terang, they return after several
months and burn down their home and everything they have
helped them accumulate. If the family is lucky, Terang leave that
place forever.
Certain families do not want to have Terang because they
are terrified it will burn down their home after they become rich.
The boy went into the courtyard the next morning and
saw that only the large cloth remained. The grindstones were
gone. The boy realized that the Terang the elders talked about
had been involved and rushed inside to tell his mother.
The boy and his mother soon began benefitting from
things Terang brought them. The boy first asked for daily
necessities and received all he asked for. Gradually, they
obtained furniture like the furniture in rich homes, and the boy
eventually married a beautiful woman with whom he had two
sons in three years. Several years later, the boy's family was far
richer than any other local family; they had everything they
desired.
One beautiful morning, the family was having breakfast
when the mother said mournfully, "I had a nightmare. A giant
with wild hair and a sword came and killed us all. Blood was
splattered everywhere in the courtyard. He set fire to our home
and fled as the villagers stood, laughing happily in front of our
gate."
"We must do something as quickly as possible. What a
bad omen! How can we avoid Terang?" the son said.
"We must ask for things that are very difficult to obtain,"
•38•
his mother said.
"Perhaps we could ask Terang for things that never
existed in the past and present, things that people always
wonder about," the son suggested.
"A rabbit horn, a frog tooth, a snake horn, horse wings,
and turtle hair are the five treasures. I don't think there are such
things. People have said that such things may be found far
across the oceans, but are very difficult to get. We can ask for
such things," the mother decided.
The son did as his mother instructed. Terang listened as
usual to what they requested. When the Terang left, the family
invited the local monastery's incarnate lama and other monks to
chant Buddhist scriptures. Villagers brought the Kanjur and
Tanjur19 from the local monastery and spread the volumes in
their courtyard. Old people chanted the Six Sacred Syllables
while young villagers put sacred prayer flags around the home.
They held religious ceremonies for seven days. The ocean-like
blue sky gradually grew dark as the lama, monks, and villagers
chanted in the late afternoon of the seventh day. Terang yelled
from far away, on the other side of the west mountain, "What has
happened to our home? Who set fire to our house? I cannot
come help you. What should I do?"
The son shouted clearly, "Our home and all of our
property were burnt. We saved nothing from the fire. We must
move. We don't know who made this fire. We will leave and never
return. We have no home from this day onwards."
"I have what you requested, found across the ocean. I will
put them here. Come take them if you wish. I will leave and never
return," the Terang said sorrowfully and left forever. The family
then lived happily, and was the richest in the world, with their five
unique treasures. People still talk about those five treasures.
The Tibetan Buddhist canon recognized by various schools of Tibetan
Buddhism includes the Kanjur (The Translation of the Word) and the
Tanjur (Translation of Treatises). The former is considered the spoken
teachings and precepts of the Buddha and the latter is the collection of
Indian commentaries on the Buddha's teachings.
•39•
19
8
SACRIFICES TO MOUNTAIN DEITIES
ordor, your cousin brought a lhoda20 and sacred prayer flags
D
today from the county town. He said he would call you and
Young Uncle tomorrow morning. You must offer sung with
him and Cousin on Zhogartsejee Mountain. Sleep early after
supper and I'll wake you in the morning," Mother said,
putting noodles into bowls and handing them to Young Uncle, Elder
Uncle, and me. Next she served Elder Sister, Young Sister, and
herself. Elder Sister had come from her husband's home with many
things for me, some of which I ate that night in bed.
"I'd love to go with Young Uncle and Cousin. Will Young
Uncle help me on the way? Will I need to carry something tomorrow
morning? Will we have lunch on the mountain?" I said.
"No. You don't need to take anything," Young Uncle said
warmly, kissing my forehead. He sipped black tea from his cup as I
leaned against him and ate noodles.
"You'll have lunch on the mountain. Walk on your own. Don't
make Young Uncle carry you," Mother said sternly, and added, "I'll
prepare milk, bread, butter, and barley liquor21 for your lunch."
"OK," I said, licking my plastic bowl and handing it to Mother.
"I'm full. I'm going to bed now. Will you put my Tibetan robe and
sash on my bed for me?"
"Of course," she said warmly, then went to the kitchen and
brought them to me. As soon as my head touched the pillow, I was
20
21
Wind-horse.
Villagers brew it for ceremonies and celebrations.
•40•
wandering in a marvelous dream, enjoying the scenery of boundless
grassland that I had never seen before. A gentle breeze blew through
the air as several friends and I flew a kite that moved higher and
higher in the sky as I unrolled the string further and further.
Suddenly, the string snapped and the kite flew away in the steady
breeze. I ran after it, jumping up many times with all my strength, but
I could not grasp the string. As the kite hung from the distant side of
a high cliff, I clapped my hands and then ran towards it, mimicking a
flying bird, waving my arms. I flew straight toward the kite. When I
reached the place where it was hanging, I cautiously untangled it
from the roots of a small tree growing on the rocky cliff, slowly
beating my wings. I could fly everywhere and saw the broad, green
grassland beneath me, and buildings that appeared only a fraction of
their normal size.
While enjoying these enchanting views, a vulture suddenly
struck my back, knocking me into a spin. I was like an airplane falling,
spiraling out of control toward the earth. I closed my eyes tight,
hopelessly plunging to my death. I thought about my family, friends,
and playmates as I plunged downwards in terror. Warm tears rolled
down my cheeks like a broken string of prayer beads. I waved my legs
and hands in the air like a bug struggling with its many legs to stand
upright. I closed my eyes tighter than before as I neared the ground.
Fortunately, I landed in the dense forest as gently as if Mother had
put me into a soft bed. The forest terrified me and I cried loudly, but I
heard nothing. I struggled wildly. I could not see my feet. I heard a
ghost murmuring to me in the distance.
I wakened from this dreadful dream in terror, finding myself
lying on the dzeto. Mother was calling, "It's time to get up now.
Young Uncle is waiting for you outside."
"OK," I replied groggily, rubbing my eyes. I went to the
kitchen and washed my face. Young Uncle was waiting for me in the
•41•
courtyard, a cloth bag on his back.
"Are you ready for a journey?" he asked.
"Is Cousin coming, Mother?" I asked impatiently. Young
Sister and I were afraid of Cousin because he was severe and never
smiled. Cousin beat us when we were disobedient or fought, and beat
Young Sister harder than he beat me.
"He's coming soon. Don't let Young Uncle carry you on the
way," Mother reminded. As soon as she finished shouting, Cousin
arrived with a flashlight and a bunch of cypress branches tied to a
cloth bag on his back.
"Did you bring nectar and matches?" he asked. People remind
each other about the 'nectar' and matches when they prepare
offerings for the mountain deities' ladze.
"Yes. I have them. Let's go," Young Uncle said. The morning
was just dawning and I could see little on the path except Cousin and
Young Uncle's vague shapes. I held Young Uncle's Tibetan robe sleeve,
jogging to keep up. We reached the foot of the mountain where we
could make out a path zigzagging up the mountain. We stopped to
rest. I removed my Tibetan robe and wrapped it into my sash while
Young Uncle and Cousin put their bags on the ground. I could not ask
them to carry my Tibetan robe because they were already carrying
heavy loads. Swallowing that thought, I decided to carry it myself.
On this frosty, tranquil morning, small beams of light
gradually spread across the distant horizon above the eastern
mountaintops and inky clouds. The whole universe was peaceful and
quiet as its beloved people were sleeping deeply. The mountains
appeared, resembling sets of steps for the deities, a welcome to the
human world. Trees in the dense forests stood quietly at attention as
though waiting for mountain deities' instruction. I led the way
without sweat on my forehead as we began ascending the mountain.
After an hour, morning birds chirped and flitted from one tree to
•42•
another as we chatted. We enjoyed the waxbills' marvelous, vigorous
twittering as they accompanied us.
Young Uncle said, "Go ahead! You be the first, my dear one."
Actually, Young Uncle and Cousin had things to discuss they didn't
want me to hear.
We rested under a big tree. Villagers always rest here for a few
minutes when herding or cutting timber. We could see a few of our
village's mountain soybean fields. Cousin put his cloth bag down by
the big tree and said, "Always rest going up the mountain, but don't
rest for very long." His back was damp where the bag had been and
his undershirt was glued to his back. He could go no faster, especially
up the mountain, because he was heavy and could not breathe as
easily as normal people. Young Uncle wiped his face with the sleeve
of his robe. "I'm going to tell Milarepa's22 life history so you won't
feel tired."
"Yeah! I'd love a story, Young Uncle," I said, sitting on a log
nearby.
Young Uncle then told me this story:
Long ago, a man named Milarepa lived in a village called Nyanyul
near Yalongtsangpo in Tibet. His father was outside their village
doing business when he was born. When his father heard the
news of Milarepa's birth, he was so happy that he gave the child
the name Tobagar (Happy News). His family was extremely rich
when he was young, but as people say, 'Property is as temporary
as morning dew.'
When Milarepa was a little child, his father died from
illness and he, his mother, and his sister were then treated
cruelly by his uncle and aunt. When he was fifteen, his mother
asked him to study the black arts to take revenge. He became so
Milarepa (1040-1123) was a famous Tibetan yogi, who achieved
enlightenment in one lifetime. He is renowned for being extremely thin
because he only ate nettles during long periods of meditation.
•43•
22
powerful that he could destroy villages with hail storms. However,
he eventually began studying Buddhism. He faced many
difficulties while learning the teachings of many great lamas. He
meditated in caves in Nepal, Tibet, and elsewhere. He practiced
long periods of meditation, eating only a little nettle. He had
many well-known students. Finally, he achieved enlightenment.
"Today, Tibetans use him as an example to encourage
students to study hard and make progress. We need to learn from his
ideas and spirit," Young Uncle concluded.
The mountain altar appeared nearby, but we still had a steep
climb up to the mountaintop. The golden sun rose gradually from
the far horizon and lit the clouds like butter-lamps for the heavens.
The clouds bounded above the distant mountains like a flock of
sheep and lambs on endless grassland. We saw deer, rabbits, and
marmots as we neared the mountain altar. We rested by a set of
cooking stones where yak-herders cooked in summer and autumn. I
picked strawberries among the rich grass, and then popped them
into my mouth.
"Dordor, don't eat strawberries in early morning or you'll get a
stomachache," Young Uncle said sternly.
"OK," I replied and stopped eating. When he mentioned
stomachache I was frightened, remembering the time I thought I was
going to die from constipation.
"We will leave our things in the cottage23 except for the lhoda,
sung bag, and prayer flags. We'll eat a little here so we won't be
hungry until we return and cook lunch. We must hike up the rest of
the mountain to the top," Cousin explained, wiping perspiration from
his forehead with his hands.
"Come and eat, my little one," Young Uncle said warmly as
usual.
23
A small wood house with several rooms, used by village yak-herders.
•44•
"OK," I answered, tossing my Tibetan robe on the grass. I was
tired, hungry, and I wanted to rest and eat something.
We ate cornbread, drank bowls of barley liquor with a little
tsamba in it, and then silently started up the mountaintop.
My village has five ladze. Each protects villagers from
different threats. Different chants are used for offerings and prayers
to each mountain deity when beseeching them. Other chants are used
to beseech the family deities with sung offerings at home.
"Victory to the deities! Victory to the deities! Victory to the
deities!" Cousin and Young Uncle yelled as we approached the
Zhogartsejee Mountain ladze. It was my first time here, and I was
startled by the sudden shouting. I watched and listened curiously,
and then tried to imitate their yells. Young Uncle pushed leftover
ashes to each side on the mountain altar, and then placed fresh wood
in the altar center. Cousin put cypress twigs, tsamba, and other
offerings on the conifer wood. A straight piece of cypress wood was
placed upright in the center. Young Uncle kindled a fire and got ready
to chant. He and Cousin purified lhoda, prayer flags, and the sung
bag in the smoke. Then they began chanting the offering-burning
prayers to the mountain deity. They poured the sung bag containing
the five grains24 into the fire, auspiciously saving a little of the five
grains according to custom. Butter was spread on the straight cypress
stick standing in the center of the offering. We put a piece of the
cypress in the small kettle that was filled with nectar as sung smoke
curled auspiciously into the sky. It was now a sunny, cloudless day
with a deep blue sky. With their faces full of joy, Young Uncle and
Cousin began chanting the offering prayer, beseeching the mountain
deity to protect our village residents.
Purify the sung, purify the sung, purify the sung
24
Barley, wheat, beans, rice, and rapeseed.
•45•
Offer one hundred, offer one thousand, offer ten thousand
Offer one hundred if it's not full; offer one thousand if it's not full,
offer ten thousand if it's not full
Offer one hundred, offer one thousand, offer ten thousand
Offer on this auspicious day, offer on this auspicious day
Offer on the special day of the family deity, the auspicious day,
the celebratory day of the mountain deity
Offer during leisure time, work time, and other busy times
May the village be full of boys and the enclosures full of livestock
May no harm befall people and no disease befall livestock
Offer sung like falling water, offer the five grains like falling snow
Smoke incense reaches Heaven, purifying heavenly deities
Smoke incense rises, purifying the mountain deities of space
Smoke incense rises into the world, purifying the earth's water
deities
May I encounter good things and avoid all bad things
May I meet luck everyday, have sufficient food every year, and
have children for generations
May there be joy wherever I go, and warmth wherever I live
May others help me if I encounter enemies, may teachers teach
me if I make mistakes
We threw the pieces of cypress into the sung when we finished
chanting the offering-burning prayers, and Young Uncle and Cousin
then began chanting the lhoda of Tara.25 Meanwhile, we scattered
lhoda in the sky while circumambulating the ladze and the altar of
smoldering sung. We flung lhoda into the ascending sung smoke as
we circled three times and prostrated to the altar three times. Next,
we inserted prayer flags where many other prayer flags had been
inserted in the ladze, and where the wind blew strongest. Afterwards,
we walked down to the cottage for lunch.
25
Tara is a female protector deity, and also a tantric meditation deity used
by those seeking to develop inner qualities and better understand
compassion and emptiness.
•46•
"If people often offer sung and celebrate the mountain deity's
day, then the mountain deity will be very happy and protect the
village from danger and harm," Young Uncle said.
Cousin collected mushrooms by the path and I picked
strawberries to ease my hunger. When we reached the cottage,
Cousin cooked the mushrooms and then brought out beer and liquor
bought in the county town, as well as homemade barley liquor. We
enjoyed it all.
We gazed at the yaks and other livestock on the mountain's
summer pasture. Young Uncle and Cousin said on the way home that
they had enjoyed themselves thoroughly that day. We had sacrificed
to the mountain deities and felt that we would surely have future
success.
•47•
9
PRIMARY BOARDING SCHOOL
There is a saying: "The whole day's work depends on a good start
in the morning, the whole year's work depends on a good start in
spring, and life's work depends on a good start when children are
young." local teacher
herded the pigs with village cow-herders for a year. In the
I
autumn, barley, beans, and wheat were harvested and then
villagers restlessly stayed at home. Some village men played
chess on a long wood bench while basking in the sun. Others
swam in streams and pools. Villagers had nothing much to do
except rest, while livestock grazed in the fields. Cousin came to my
home one day to talk about sending me to the primary boarding
school in the township center. I eavesdropped by a small window,
concerned that I'd be kept at home to care for the family pigs. Mother,
Young Uncle, and Cousin finally determined that I should go to
school in order to learn Chinese, because they thought it was
important for my future. However, after graduating from the primary
school, they decided I would stay at home to help the family. The
futures of local poor children were arranged by their family and were
often dictated by poverty and tradition.
"Dordor, do you want to attend the township primary school?
Many children your age are going there this year," said Tsekho, whom
I greeted while he was riding an old bike near my family gate. He was
a close friend and attended grade three in the township primary
school.
•48•
"I'm not sure. How are your studies, dear friend?" I asked,
while riding my three-wheeled wood car inside my family courtyard. I
was sure Mother would send me to the school where most local
children were studying.
"I failed this year, so Father told me to repeat grade three
again. I hope you can attend grade three this year with me," he said,
riding away, glancing over his shoulder.
I was ten years old in 1993. When primary school was about to
begin, Mother said she would take me to register. Since the school
was five kilometers from my home, students walked to school,
remained there for the week, and returned home on weekends. I held
onto Mother's robe sleeve and walked with both new and older
students from my village. On the way, groups of students laughed and
chatted happily with each other as if they were going for a picnic. I
proudly wore new clothes and new shoes, and carried a new
schoolbag.
Most students were from remote nomad areas. Some students
rode horses, some rode bikes, and many came on foot. After we
reached the primary school, I was afraid of the strange students and
teachers and closely followed Mother. A teacher came, opened the
office door, instructed students to make two lines, and told new
students to register before the older students. The teacher gave me a
form that asked for my name, parents' names, village name, age, and
which grade I would be in. I filled all of the blanks but I didn't know
what to write for my father's name. I knew there were five people in
my family at that time - Elder Uncle, Young Uncle, Young Sister,
Mother, and me. There was no father. I was embarrassed. The teacher
understood and kindly said, "It's fine,"
Mother paid five yuan for tuition and then an older student
led us around the school. We went to the dormitory across from the
teachers' offices. There was a long garden in front of the teachers'
•49•
rooms protected by a long wooden fence. All the buildings were old.
The school kitchen was an adobe building.
"This is your dorm room. Bring bedding tomorrow. Class
starts the day after tomorrow," the student said and opened the door
to the room for new students from my village. There were four empty
bed frames and a metal stove.
"OK, thank you very much. We will bring bedding tomorrow,"
Mother said, and then we walked back home.
Mother put a wool quilt, sleeping mat made of black yak-hair,
and a pillow on a big cloth, wrapped it, and the tied it tightly with a
rope. I asked Tsekho to come to my home the next morning. I
suggested that we should put our bedding together in a pushcart to
take to school, to which he readily agreed.
I had a big meal for breakfast the next morning with Elder
Uncle, Young Uncle, Young Sister, and Mother. Then Tsekho and I
put the belongings we would take to school in the pushcart along with
a cooking pot and other utensils. We gathered with eight other
students from the village and set off with five pushcarts. When we
reached the school, many students were already there, following their
head teachers' instructions to clean dorm rooms, classrooms, and the
playground. We put our bedding on our beds and made our room
neat.
The bell rang loudly and all the students cheerfully entered
their classrooms. I felt a bit frightened entering the grade three
classroom with students I did not know. A teacher came into the
classroom as soon as we sat down. We shouted, "Good morning
teacher!"
The teacher introduced himself and told us that he was our
head teacher. He explained the school rules, and told us to respect the
teachers and study hard. We attended classes according to the
schedule posted on a wall by the blackboard. Mother left for home at
•50•
noon and I began missing Young Uncle.
I started to learn Chinese characters for words like 'moon' and
'sun'. I had a terrible time learning Chinese and was frequently
beaten by the Chinese teacher with a long bamboo stick. As soon as
he finished beating me, I thrust my aching, blood-covered hands
under my armpits. I could not understand what the teacher was
saying during Chinese class in the first term. Later, as I focused on
Chinese, I began to improve and was no longer tormented by the
Chinese teacher.
Arithmetic was also difficult, made more so by the teacher
beating me every morning for about five minutes before class started.
We were beaten with a bamboo stick. The number of blows was based
on how many mistakes our homework had. One evening, while I was
correcting arithmetic homework in the classroom with several
classmates, the teacher entered the classroom and beat us hatefully
with a bamboo stick for no reason. We neither sat on the chairs nor
looked at the arithmetic teacher's angry face, only sobbed silently
under our breaths, grimacing in pain.
"Bad students of a bad teacher, bad children of bad parents,"
the teacher fumed under his breath, and left.
We finished doing the arithmetic homework and dejectedly
returned to the dormitory.
•••
We cooked lunch in our dorm room, selecting numbers from one to
seven. Those who got the numbers one, two, and three cooked a
lunch of noodles, vegetables, or potatoes for themselves. Others ate
tsamba and dried bread with cold water. Those who cooked ate.
Sometimes those who cooked shared their leftovers with dorm mates
who were their close friends. If there was enough time, all the dorm
mates cooked a big pot of noodles together so everyone could be
•51•
happy with full bellies.
We went up the hill behind the school and collected firewood
every Wednesday afternoon. Five students made one group. We
chopped five pine trees per student, dragged them to the school with
ropes, and chopped them up into stove-sized pieces with axes.
A short, strong classmate competed with me as we chopped
the pine trees in front of our dormitory. He watched me closely and
challenged me frequently, because I got high scores in my class. I
enjoyed this spirit of competition, but this time his envy burst out in a
bad way. He said, "Did you chop wood like this at your home? How
can the teachers kindle such wood in their stoves? Can't you see how
other students chop wood?" He then cursed and abused me.
I had no idea how to respond.
My friend, Tsekho, observing this situation, commented, "The
head teacher came here a bit ago, and told him to chop this way. Do
you want to contradict the head teacher?"
"Mind your own business!" the short, strong classmate said.
My classmates and the other students came over and gathered
around us, watching and waiting.
I pushed him with all my strength and said, "Why are you
always tormenting me? I'm your classmate. Why do you treat me like
this?"
He kicked me in the groin. I felt dizzy and faint. He hatefully
kicked me again.
I reached into my pocket for a pointed pencil sharpener.
He continued kicking me.
I stabbed his left leg twice.
He struggled with me for a few minutes, until suddenly he
cried out at the sight of blood seeping out from his tattered left shoe.
He rushed off in the direction of the head teacher's office, while
Tsekho and I returned to the dormitory, fearing what would ensue. I
•52•
didn't know what I would say about my actions to the head teacher. A
student soon rushed up and said that the head teacher had
summoned me to his office.
The head teacher said, "What happened to you? Do you know
you injured him? You broke school rules and will be expelled! I
thought you were the best student in our class! I'm really
disappointed."
I wanted to tell the head teacher the whole truth, but I didn't
know where to start. "Let's go treat the injury first," the teacher said,
and then we headed to an old dilapidated clinic in the township
center where a doctor said his skin had barely been punctured. I
borrowed two yuan from a friend and paid for the treatment.
Afterwards, Young Uncle came to the school and explained the
situation to the head teacher in private. I was not expelled, and the
short strong boy never troubled me again.
•53•
10
DEATH
There is a beginning and there is an end, there is happiness and
there is sadness, there is birth and there is death. Taba
golden sun rose from the eastern mountaintop as I gripped
A
an old, worn-out broom, cleaning snow that had fallen during
the night. The peaks of Tiger Mountain were covered with a
thick blanket of snow in the far distance. I could see them
from where I stood on the pigsty roof. I was thinking about
Elder Uncle who had carried me on his back until I could walk and
talk. He had been ill only twice in his life that I could remember. Now,
he was terribly ill, bedridden, and no longer ate. He vomited
immediately after drinking tea or having even a little food. Cousin
asked the best doctor from the county hospital to come to our home.
After an examination, and giving him injections for two days, he said,
"He needs an operation in Lanzhou City.26 Prepare about 20,000
yuan for treatment and other expenses. If you can, his illness can be
cured. You need to think about this quickly, otherwise…"
"We'll try to borrow money from relatives and others," said
Mother.
The doctor wrote down the hospital name and told Cousin
what to do next.
My family members were happy to hear the illness was curable
but sadly, we could not find 20,000 RMB quickly. Mother and Cousin
went to relatives' homes and local rich people, but in vain. Everyone
26
Capital of Gansu Province.
•54•
thought my family was poor and would never pay back the debt.
Elder Uncle's illness worsened. As Tibetan New Year approached, he
became so ill he could hardly breathe and seemed more and more
willing to die. During his lifetime, he had chanted the Sacred Six
Syllables day and night and had helped countless people in need.
"Stop cleaning the snow and summon the family. He's worse,"
Cousin called from the courtyard, and then hurried inside. I rushed
down the ladder and into the room where Elder Uncle had waited for
death for about two weeks. He was breathing painfully as Cousin
chanted the Sacred Six Syllables and tightly held Elder Uncle's hand.
"Quickly inform Young Uncle to return home. Elder Uncle will
leave us soon," Cousin said. Mother stood nearby, her eyes full of
tears, sobbing quietly. Cold fear gripped my heart as I rushed to find
Young Uncle, who was collecting firewood in the hills. I heard the
sound of an ax piercing dried timber. I shouted. He rested for a
moment, listening to me, shocked by what I said. We immediately
started home.
"Don't follow me too closely or you'll be frightened, my dear.
You are only thirteen and too young to see this. Stay out here," Young
Uncle said, putting the ax behind the door and hurrying into the
bedroom.
"I want to see Elder Uncle one last time. I love him and have
cared for him during his illness. He looked after me when I was a
young child. If I don't see him now, I'll never see him again," I said,
tears streaming down my cheeks. I neared his bed where he was now
peacefully dying. Elder Sister was sobbing under the sleeve of her
robe. Tears flowed down our cheeks as Cousin quietly talked to Elder
Uncle with a fake smile. Elder Uncle seemed to improve after the
whole family had assembled. His face was radiant with a peaceful
smile. He suffered from this awful illness for two more days, and then
closed his eyes and left us forever on the nineteenth day of the
•55•
eleventh lunar month.
A family customarily keeps a death a secret for three days to
prepare for the funeral. The family buys liquor for villagers and
relatives who come to offer condolences, and buys cloth on which to
print the Six Sacred Syllables. It also gives the family time to fry
bread and buy what the invited lama and monks need during the
seven days that they come to bless the corpse and purify the
deceased's sins. Women and girls clean all the rooms and prepare
money for funeral expenses.
The morning birds chirped and the golden sun shone brightly.
People came and went and looked as strange as I felt. My family
members sobbed silently. Uncle's eyes were closed as he peacefully
lay on the dzeto in the new robe he liked most. With a warm smile, he
looked as he usually did when he was happy. I could not restrain my
tears as I sat by Mother. Our whole family did nothing but silently
weep the entire morning. Hundreds of thorns seemed to prick my
heart as my family wept. The sunlight shone brightly on the village,
hurting my eyes as Young Uncle took me and my empty heart
outside.
"Don't be sad. All humans eventually face this," Young Uncle
said. "It's time to wash your hair, wash your clothes, clean the rooms,
and change the beds for tomorrow. The day after tomorrow, we need
to borrow things from our Anebudze Tribe 27 to use during the
funeral."
Young Uncle covered Elder Uncle's face with a white cloth and
I realized it was the last time I would see my beloved Elder Uncle. It
was also the first time I saw a corpse in such tragic circumstances.
"Today, Dordor and I will go to the county town and buy
liquor, cloth, and so on for the funeral. Take care of other
arrangements as you think best. Young Uncle will organize the sacred
27
One of Dredze Village's three tribes.
•56•
paintings to display in our family shrine," Cousin said. He put the
yak-hair saddlebags on the back of his old bicycle to serve as a seat
for me and off we went. It was the first time I had gone to the county
town by bicycle with Cousin. Afterwards, I yearned for a chance to
ride a bicycle again and hoped to sell my three-wheeled car to buy a
small bicycle.
I followed Cousin wherever he went, from shop to shop.
Sometimes I stood by the bicycle to guard the items we had already
purchased while he went into other shops to buy more things. I was
so exhausted when we finished that I had little appetite for lunch.
After we had eaten, Cousin left me with a Chinese shopkeeper while
he went to Leglung Monastery to consult a fortuneteller about
instructions for Elder Uncle's funeral. The fortuneteller's advice was
always cremation of the corpse at the local cremation site, sky burial
at Lhamo Monastery, or water burial in White Dragon River, the
biggest river in Tewo County. As I waited, I thought about Elder
Uncle. His gentle face and voice replayed in my mind. The Chinese
shopkeeper's exaggerated smile and pallid expression made me
uncomfortable. He spoke to me in a dialect I didn't understand as I
stood by the bicycle. I nodded occasionally, eventually lowering my
head silently as the shopkeeper continued talking, hoping Cousin
would return soon.
Cousin appeared after some time, having hitched a ride on a
truck. I rushed to him like a bird freed from a cage.
•••
My family sold a yak and a cow for Elder Uncle's funeral and invited
monks and an incarnate lama to chant scriptures to create a bright
light for Elder Uncle's soul on its way to the afterlife, ensuring the
deceased would have good living conditions in the next life and be
reborn sooner. The fortuneteller had said that the corpse should be
•57•
cremated. Young Uncle, Cousin, and others planned a seven-day long
funeral in accordance with local custom.
The Anebudze Tribe and other villagers assisted my family in
every possible way. Mother and Young Uncle were highly respected
by villagers because they got along well with everyone. Consequently,
the villagers took care of my family very well during our time of grief.
Many relatives came with gifts and extended condolences. Some
wordlessly sobbed, others cried quietly under their breath in front of
Elder Uncle, where he lay on a small wood box with his head on flat
stone, clad in his beloved clothes. Each time a relative came, my
family members wept without greeting and then as the relatives
approached Elder Uncle, they began crying and saying that they
wanted to speak to him one last time. Tears flowed down their cheeks
and they cried loudly, as if Elder Uncle could hear them as he traveled
to a bright peaceful world. Lamentations reverberated through the
house daily, making me repeatedly burst into tears. I felt great
melancholy as their sad cries and tears tore into my heart. We stayed
secluded at home with reddened-eyes and messy hair. My world was
upset and darkness filled my mind.
We invited two incarnate lamas from local monasteries and
twenty monks to chant for seven days. The villagers came and
chanted the Sacred Six Syllables during this time, and offered conifer
needles, printed mani flags, and stones carved with sacred mani.
These activities removed Elder Uncle's sins and created a bright road
for him so that he would soon be reborn as a human. My family fed
everyone for seven days.
Villagers and close relatives gathered and prepared for the
cremation at dawn on the seventh day. The family courtyard was full
of people ready to escort Elder Uncle to the afterlife. My family, close
relatives, and Elder Uncle's close friends lamented and sobbed as the
last star in the west winked out. I watched two men wrap Elder Uncle
•58•
tightly in his robe and then tie him to two long poles. Several young
villagers carried the corpse up the path to the cremation site. The
crowd slowly followed and then vanished.
Elders say a soul travels for seven days to all the places it has
been. If it is not time for them to die, the soul returns to its body and
its heart resumes beating, which is why the corpse is kept at home for
seven days. After cremation, the deceased travels for forty-eight
nights to meet the King of Death. They are guided by a bright light
and experience neither fear nor danger, so long as the deceased's
family has held the proper religious rituals. On the forty-eighth night
the deceased person invisibly returns home one last time. The
deceased's family should be happy, prepare an empty seat, and fill the
deceased's bowl with tea. The deceased can see the family and feels
very glad if the family is happy. Afterward, the King of Death passes
judgment on the deceased person according to how they lived their
life. Then the deceased person is reborn as one of the six sentient
creatures. I always feel uneasy when people talk about death because
I recall Elder Uncle's death.
•••
I had nightmares every night after Elder Uncle passed away. Young
Uncle said, "Elder Uncle's ghost has returned and is requesting mani
for his next life. Our family must chant the Six Sacred Syllables for
him and then he will soon be reborn." My family then chanted the Six
Sacred Syllables after supper until midnight.
Young Uncle told me local stories before I slept, which put an
end to my nightmares.
•59•
Thumb Bird
Long ago, Thumb Bird and Pika lived together in a forest. Pika
stole Thumb Bird's eggs and ate them. Thumb Bird had no idea
what to do and flew to Garuda, the king of birds, and asked him
to solve the problem.
"I am the king of birds. If I cared about such small things,
then I would have too many things to worry about. I have no time.
Solve this problem by yourself," Garuda said arrogantly.
"Please don't think that I am only a little bird. Do not be
regretful if this problem becomes worse," Thumb Bird said angrily
and flew away.
Thinking she couldn't live with Pika's bullying, Thumb Bird
took two pieces of dried grass with sharp tips and waited for Pika
to steal her eggs once again. When Pika surreptitiously came
and tried to steal her eggs, Thumb Bird stabbed the grass into
Pika's eyes. Pika was then blind, and ran about in great pain,
trying to find a hole to hide in. Pika finally ran into a big sleeping
elephant's trunk. Thus awakened from his deep sleep, Elephant
got up, and ran into the big tree where Garuda had its nest. The
nest fell to the ground, killing all of Garuda's babies. Elephant
also died.
Seven hunters then happened by and happily said, "We
don't need to hunt any more. This elephant is just enough for us!"
They skinned the elephant and prepared to divide the meat.
One stupid little hunter was tasked with taking a kettle to
fetch water. While he was gone, the other six hunters discussed
how they could get more meat and then put poison in the little
hunter's bowl.
A bit later, the little hunter decided to take all the meat for
himself and put poison in the kettle of water he brought from the
stream. The other six hunters drank tea boiled with this water
and died immediately. Afterward, the little hunter foolishly drank
water from his own bowl and also died.
At that time, Sister Fox came looking for food, neared
Elephant, and ate until her stomach exploded.
•60•
Garuda noticed his dead babies and felt very sad and
regretful. Thumb Bird flew over, faced Garuda, and sang:
If you don't know your position,
Look at Garuda's nest.
If you don't know how to control yourself,
Look at Elephant's carcass.
If you cannot get along with others,
Look at the seven hunters' corpses.
If you don't know how much you can eat,
Look at Sister Fox's carcass.
Thumb Bird then stretched its wings and flew away.
Drodza Paba Defeats the Nine-Headed Ogress
Long ago, Drodza Paba lived with Jasha Marlen, Jamtso Hurtun,
and Dzeku Ripug in the Tewo area. Nine-Headed Ogress also
lived in a valley and ate people when they collected firewood and
hunted deer. There was no happiness and no peace for those
who lived in that valley.
Drodza Paba was an intelligent, compassionate man and
wanted to kill Ogress immediately. He gathered three of his
friends and went to the forested valley to hunt deer while hoping
for an opportunity to kill Ogress.
On the first day, Dzeku Ripug stayed by the fire to care for
their belongings while the other three were out hunting. When
the three hunters later returned, Dzeku Ripug had disappeared.
They called, "Dzeku Ripug, please come and eat venison and
drink soup!" Meanwhile, Ogress had caught Dzeku Ripug. Then
the three hunters ate meat, drank soup, and rested.
On the second day, Jasha Marlen stayed by the fire to
•61•
care for their belongings while the other two were out hunting.
When the two hunters later returned, Jasha Marlen was gone.
They looked for him for about a half hour, but couldn't find him.
Then they ate venison, drank soup, and rested.
On the third day, Jamtso Hurtun stayed by the fire to care
for their belongings while Drodza Paba was out hunting. Ogress
then caught Jamtso Hurtun.
On the fourth day, Drodza Paba stayed by the fire for a
while and then he went out hunting, killed a deer, and then
returned. A bit later, he noticed that the cooking-stones were
quaking as he boiled venison in a pot. He then heard Ogress say,
"Please, don't throw stones, I'm living under here."
Drodza Paba ignored this and kept boiling venison. He
then took a big stone and beat the place where the voice came
from.
Ogress shouted, "Don't throw stones! I'm living under
here!" A moment later, Ogress came out while Drodza Paba was
unhurriedly using a needle to stab the leather container he used
to fetch water.
He handed it to Ogress, and said, "Please take this
container and fetch water for us, and then we'll boil venison and
drink soup. If the container leaks, pull out some of your hair to
patch it."
Ogress agreed and left to fetch water. Water leaked from
the container as Ogress returned. She pulled out her hair again
and again to stop the leaks until she was nearly bald. Meanwhile,
Drodza Paba went into Ogress's home and replaced all her metal
weapons with similar weapons he had made of flimsy wood.
Ogress returned, and angrily said, "Let's have a contest
and see whose sword is sharper!" Then she went into her home,
took out all her weapons, picked out her demon sword, and tried
to stab Drodza Paba. However the sword struck Drodzo's shield
and broke.
"Aha! This sword behaves as though it were made of wood,
not metal," Ogress said.
Drodza Paba then used the metal sword and cut off one
•62•
of her nine heads.
"Let's have a contest and saw each other!" Ogress said
confidently, took out her demon saw, and sawed Drodza Paba
once. The saw broke into pieces. "Aha! It seems this saw is made
of wood," Ogress said.
Drodza Paba then used the metal saw and sawed off one
of the Ogress's eight remaining heads.
"Let's have a contest using a knife to cut each other!"
Ogress said, took her demon knife, and stabbed Drodza Paba.
The knife broke. Drodza Paba then used the metal knife and cut
off one of Ogress's remaining seven heads.
Ogress felt the situation had become dire and fled.
Drodza Paba chased her, following her footprints and saw Ogress
run into a distant cave. Drodza Paba transformed himself into a
monk, entered the cave, and asked, "What happened to you
today?"
"I fought with Drodza Paba and lost. He wounded me
terribly," Ogress replied.
"Oh, it'll soon be fine. I'll chant some scriptures to bless
you," the monk said. He then took a piece of pine tree bark
inscribed with scriptures, chanted for some time, and then asked,
"Do you have a big pot and firewood?"
"Yes, I do," Ogress answered.
"Sit in the pot. The hot water will cure your wounds.
Meanwhile, I'll continue chanting. It will bless you. Come out of
the pot after I finish chanting," the monk said.
Ogress sat in the pot. The monk then put the lid on top,
and made a big fire underneath. Ogress soon couldn't bear the
heat and tapped the lid. The monk then put a long pole between
the lid and a rafter. When Ogress was nearly boiled to death, she
bit through the lid with her fangs.
The monk then assumed the form of Drodza Paba, broke
Ogress's fangs, and Ogress then died in the boiling pot.
Drodza Paba looked around Ogress's home, and found his
three friends who had been beaten and hung over rafters. He
took them down, put their heads back on their bodies, chanted
•63•
scriptures, and stabbed needles into each of their necks.
The next morning, when he woke up, he saw that his
friends were now alive. They left as Ogress's three daughters
howled in the distance.
They killed some deer in the forest, returned, and were
reunited with their family and neighbors. Tewo Tibetans in this
valley have lived a peaceful, happy life since that time.
•64•
11
CIRCUMAMBULATING A DIVINE MOUNTAIN
t was the eighth day of Losar, an auspicious day and the best
I
month of the year, but my family didn't celebrate, because of
Elder Uncle's death. Instead, we stayed home chanting the
Sacred Six Syllables. Young Uncle chanted scriptures every day
and Mother and Young Sister fasted for several days.
Some wealthy village families who owned trucks offered to
take local villagers to circumambulate Divine Mountain in Sichuan,
which is forty minutes away by truck.28 Villagers often take their
children with them, carrying the babies on their backs and helping
old
people
circle
Divine
Mountain
once.
Younger
people
circumambulate twice, without taking time to enter a sacred cave.
It was five a.m. and well before dawn when my dreams were
ruined by several barking dogs. Something evil seemed to be
happening in the village. Maybe our ancestors were coming to harm
the village, which is why the dogs were barking.
Mother entered my room and said, "It's time to get up. Wash
your face quickly. The villagers are leaving," and then she left to
prepare. Young Sister was washing her face under the light of a
butter-lamp that hung from the ceiling.
"OK," I replied sleepily and put on my usual clothes. Elder
Uncle's death meant that I had no new clothes for Losar. I didn't ask
for clothes nor did I complain, because I understood.
I got on a truck, put our bags in the truck as Mother handed
Divine Mountain is in the vicinity of Lhatsegu Village, Tsongru Township,
Zorgay County.
•65•
28
them up to me, and found a space for us to sit. There was no loud
talking, because villagers believed that this disturbed the mountain
and family deities. The driver came and started the engine. I sat next
to Mother, leaned against her, and kept quiet.
The truck started off. Some minutes later, it slowed down and
stopped by a group of people who were standing and shouting by the
road. They were from the mountain village we had left years ago. This
village had been created in the mountains to herd our villages'
livestock at the time the Jone Bonbo ruled Tewo County. Although we
live in different villages, this village joins our village during funerals,
weddings, and celebrations. The driver drove slowly over the rough,
winding road to Divine Mountain. I vomited several times and jerked
up every time the truck hit a bump on the way. Living conditions and
transportation are rudimentary in these remote Tibetan areas.
We divided into three tribal groups and made fires to boil
kettles of tea for breakfast when we reached the foot of Divine
Mountain. It was snowing lightly on the upper part of the mountain,
making it look more sacred and beautiful. It was a lovely scene as
pilgrims in single file began circling Divine Mountain, resembling a
serpent writhing up the mountain.
"My dear one, eat tsamba before the journey, so you won't get
altitude sickness," Mother said, handing me a ball of tsamba as
Young Sister poured tea into our cups.
"Thanks, Mother," I said.
Our communities believe in the Yellow Hat Sect of Tibetan
Buddhism and circumambulate Divine Mountain and monasteries in
a clockwise direction. Some Tewo communities follow Bon and
circumambulate counterclockwise.
We approached Divine Mountain as the sun rose over the
peak. We drank holy water and prostrated to each of the three holy
mani wheels turned by stream water. People shouted and chanted
•66•
loudly each time we reached a sacred spring: "Holy place, place of
knowledge, pure place, blessed place: I cannot come alone, and
depend on my walking stick. Please grant us holy nectar to cleanse
our minds of the murkiness and confusion of our lives."
We sang the Six Sacred Syllables as we journeyed to a sacred
cave where we climbed up a wood ladder one by one. We beseeched
mountain deities to protect us from dangers and devils before
entering the sacred cave. Some pilgrims held candles, others held
butter-lamps. Friends said that we needed to pray quickly, because it
was a long journey through the sacred cave to the holy nectar inside.
Hand in hand we followed one another like a train, holding our lights
to see the way, feeling both fear and joy. We loudly sang the Six
Sacred Syllables while viewing various naturally arisen deity images
that were on the rocks. I felt holy water dripping on my head. We
went carefully, circling huge rocks, praying under sacred boulders,
and then climbed short ladders until we were deep inside where holy
nectar - the sacred spring water - flowed from a tiny ladze.
"Tsering, give me a little holy nectar," I said, as he squatted by
the holy spring.
He gave holy nectar to all who asked. "Stretch out your right
hand and I'll pour holy nectar for you first, because you are my best
friend," he said.
After receiving the water, I first put a bit on my head and
licked it as it trickled down my face, rubbed more over my upper
body, and put some in a bottle I had brought from home. I felt
concerned and frightened when we were ready to return, because
dense smoke from conifer needles smoldered on the altar, making it
hard to breathe. The smoke purified our bodies, but I worried it
would extinguish our lights, and then we would be unable to find our
way out. I also worried that we might suffocate. I cautiously held a
butter-lamp and followed the others. I heard pilgrims coming toward
•67•
us and saw small lights bobbing in the distance. I prayed to the
deities that I would have a great future life. Many people were
coming. We found a space to stand aside and let them pass. I
recognized them by their Sichuan Tibetan accent, which is a bit
different from ours. They chanted the Six Sacred Syllables loudly as
sacred water dribbled down from above our heads. I knew we were
nearly out of the sacred cave when I saw sunlight ahead. I put the
butter-lamp on a table with many other butter-lamps. The lights
seemed to be prepared for newcomers. I devoutly worshipped the
deities again at the sacred cave entrance and then climbed down the
ladder.
We tried to catch up with villagers who had not entered the
sacred cave, passing pilgrims who would have lunch together. The
only fellow villagers I met were a few elders. Some worshipers were
circumambulating Divine Mountain by prostrating, stretching their
hands pressed together, touching their forehead first, then touching
their chin, and finally their heart: then, stretching out on the path,
they made a mark on the ground where their hands reached.
Afterward, they stood, stepped to the mark, and repeated this action.
It took three days to prostrate around Divine Mountain. Some
Pilgrims prostrated from their homes to Lhasa and Mount Kailash,
the holiest mountain in the world. I took out some apples, candies,
and oranges from my small bag and gave them to the worshippers,
hoping they would continue prostrating.
"Here are fried bread, dumplings, water, and juice," Tsekho
said.
"Thanks," I said, sitting cross-legged on the grass by him.
After lunch, we walked and sang the Six Sacred Syllables as
we passed through Small Forest and Big Forest with strangers and
fellow villagers. When we reached a large mani-stone surrounded by
prayer flags flapping in the gentle breeze, we prostrated and rested
•68•
and then prepared to leave. Conifer trees were growing nearby and I
recalled that Young Uncle had told me to collect some conifer needles.
"Tsekho, Young Uncle told me to collect some conifer needles here.
Can you help me?" I said.
"Of course. Climb this tree and collect some," he said, sitting
on the ground and eating.
"OK," I replied and climbed the tree he indicated. I cut some
conifer needles and put them in my bag, while he plucked some
needles from smaller trees.
Tsekho and I reached the mountaintop where some friends
waited for us. We rested and then galloped down the mountain like
wild horses. I had tied the bag of conifer needles on my back and was
the first of our group to reach the bottom where villagers were
waiting for the old people and us at our truck. They scolded us for
being gone so long and then I realized that we had spent a long time
in the sacred cave. We waited until the elders came at sunset, and
then we all clambered into the back of the truck and returned home
safely and happily.
•69•
12
ANTLERS
t was summer and I was fourteen. I had entered the sixth grade
I
with the highest scores in my class of thirty students. I had
nothing to do at home during the May First Holiday. I didn't
need to herd pigs on the summer pasture since disease had killed
all but three of them. Women and girls had gone to the forests
and mountains to collect shala 29 to sell. Men and boys busily
searched for deer-antlers in the forests. Mother instructed Tsekho
and me on how to collect shala on the mountain near our local village.
It was my first time to do this and I was delighted at the prospect of
earning a little money. On the other hand, I felt uneasy that others
would say something bad about me doing women's work.
Mother lectured, "Don't care what others say, think for
yourself and go your own way. People have great respect for those
who earn money, my dearest one."
The weather was wonderful - a sunny, lucky day. Mother gave
me a small basket to put on my back that morning. Tsekho had a
basket that was larger than mine on his back. He had some baked
bread in his basket and had come to my home after eating breakfast
at his home. I had hoped to go with Mother to collect shala, but she
said I would bother her.
"Dordor, shall we go? The sun will rise soon and it's long way
to our destination. Please hurry," Tsekho said.
"OK, I'm coming," I said. Mother put a bottle of hot tea in my
A vegetable that grows in mountain forests. One kilo sells for three yuan.
On average, locals can collect twenty-five kilos per day.
•70•
29
basket. The air was fresh, clear, and tranquil as I rushed off with
Tsekho. As was my habit, I didn't talk much, thinking it would waste
time. We each collected some shala individually along the path to the
mountain. We hid behind trees or on the ground when we heard
women and girls laughing and talking. When we no longer heard
them, we resumed collecting. We met several groups of women and
girls on the way up the mountain, and hid each time to avoid the
embarrassment of being seen carrying baskets on our backs.
We picked sweet strawberries and other fruits along the path,
and ate them.
The sun gradually rose to the center of the cloudless blue sky
as our baskets grew steadily heavier. We were tired and hungry when
we reached our final destination. I pretended I was not hungry and
followed Tsekho until he stopped under a big pine tree. As he helped
me take off my basket, I saw a white, bone-like object lying in the
grass about thirty meters away. I said nothing, helped Tsekho remove
his basket, and then I rubbed my eyes and looked again. As Tsekho
wiped perspiration from his face with his sleeve in the shade of the
pine tree, I rushed over and saw a five-point deer antler. The spikes
were sharp from rubbing on trees. "Friend, look what I found!" I
yelled.
He ignored me and lay in the shade.
When I brought it over and showed Tsekho, he said joyfully,
"You're a lucky boy! May you find more than a hundred antlers in
your life with Buddha's help."
I was sure Mother would be as happy as though I had found a
kilo of pure gold.
"Dordor, I heard Grandfather say that if you find half a set of
antlers, you can find the other half if you step about ten meters in the
eight directions from where you found the first one. Let's try," Tsekho
said hopefully.
•71•
We put our food back into our baskets, walked to where I had
made my discovery, stepped in the eight directions hand in hand, and
concentrated on searching, but we found nothing. Suddenly, I heard a
group of girls singing a love song. I gestured to Tsekho to hide. He
nodded and came over to me. I suggested that we leave immediately
or the girls would see us.
"I'm sorry. I need to collect more," he said.
"OK. It doesn't matter. I know the way home," I replied.
"See you later," he said. I didn't reply, because I was upset
that he did not come home with me. I ran home holding the antler in
my hands and found Mother doing chores. When I showed her and
Young Uncle my treasure, they were delighted. Young Uncle opened
the family shrine, lit a butter-lamp and incense, placed the
deer-antler in front of the shrine, and prayed. Mother gave my
forehead a warm kiss.
•72•
13
A BAD COLD
illage residents were busily harvesting barley and wheat while
V
I coughed day and night. I woke up from a horrible nightmare
at dawn, realizing that I was dizzy and had a high fever. My
hot skin was wet with perspiration and stuck to the quilt. I
coughed constantly. I looked around, but saw nothing in the
darkness. All was quiet and peaceful in the house, even though the
morning birds were not yet chirping. I crawled under my quilt again,
hoping my horrible dream would not return: I had been trapped in an
ocean of fire and, as I had attempted to flee, the fire had come ever
closer. I could not sleep again because of my incessant cough. I slept
lightly during the day and had bad dreams at night. My family went
to the fields to harvest barley and wheat from dawn to dusk, leaving
me alone at home. After they finished harvesting the barley and
wheat, the beans ripened. Livestock would eat them at night if they
were not harvested immediately.
I tried getting up when the sun shone through the windows
onto my bed, even though my illness was worsening. I put on my
clothes, but did not wash my face, comb my hair, or brush my teeth. I
had a constant headache. I was wracked by such a terrible cough that
I couldn't walk steadily. I went to the small pasture near the village
and slept in the sun the whole day without waking. The autumn
weather was very warm, with occasional, gentle breezes.
"You cannot stay at home and be ill like this. You must see a
doctor in the county town. We must take you there," a voice said. I
was half asleep. The voice, though familiar, seemed very far away.
•73•
Then a spell of coughing woke me.
"Is it you, Cousin?" I said groggily, trying to sit up, while
pretending everything was fine. It seemed that his family had finished
harvesting their crops.
"Get up and come with me," he said, helping me up. When we
reached the road, a truck came by. Cousin stopped it and we got in
the back.
"I can't believe your mother and young uncle! You are the only
boy in your family. They should take better care of you so you can
support the family in the future. All our hopes are on you to be the
major support of this family," he said. Then he felt my body as though
he were a doctor and said, "Look at you! You're so thin. You don't
take care of yourself. You are fourteen now. This is a time to grow.
Don't you know you must struggle for life? You must take care of your
family in the future."
I said nothing and just sat stupidly. It was my first time to see
a doctor and my first time to hear Cousin talk so much. We thanked
the truck driver upon reaching the county town. Cousin led me to a
clinic and talked to an old doctor who was his friend. The doctor had
two nurses. He examined me carefully and then said, "You need to
take injections for several days, drink lots of hot water, and eat well."
I then lay on a bed and the doctor gave me an IV from a bottle
hung on the wall by my bed. It was painful and my hand numbed as
the bottle slowly emptied. Cousin and the doctor chatted in Chinese
for a long time. I understood nothing the doctor said because he
spoke quickly, but I understood a bit of what Cousin said. I guessed
they were talking about the recent harvest. I was disappointed that I
had graduated from primary school but couldn't communicate with
others in Chinese.
It was early sunset when the second bottle emptied. A few
people were walking on the streets under dim lamplight. Cousin got
•74•
us a room in a cheap hotel after supper in a restaurant. I went to bed
early and Cousin didn't talk much. I slept quietly and felt comfortable
that night. I coughed less than before. It was my first time sleeping in
the county town.
"Dordor, do you feel better this morning?" Cousin asked, as he
got dressed.
"I feel better than yesterday, but I'm still faint and dizzy," I
said.
"That's because you've been eating very little. You need to eat
more," he said.
I nodded and washed my face. Afterward, we had noodles for
breakfast in a small restaurant and then went to the clinic where the
doctor had already prepared my drips. He said something in Chinese
that I didn't understand. He hung the first bottle of fluid by my bed,
which slowly ran into my vein, drop by drop.
Mother arrived with two bottles of yak milk and some new
clothes for me at about the time the first bottle finished. She said,
"The harvest is still not finished. Young Uncle and Young Sister are
harvesting beans. Young Uncle offered sung on the altar, lit
butter-lamps before the family shrine, and prayed to the family
deities at dawn."
"That's good," Cousin said.
The doctor calculated payment for treatment, because people
must pay before treatment. My family spent about 300 RMB on my
treatment. After eight days I felt much better and asked Cousin to
stop the injections. My illness lingered, but I pretended to be better.
Cousin thought it was OK to return and treat the illness at home. I
continued to have headaches, but I rarely coughed. I ate more and
drank lots of hot water as the doctor suggested. I recovered after
about ten days at home and could then play with village children
again.
•75•
14
FIGHTING
he students who lived near the primary school were arrogant
T
and self-centered. Even though they didn't read and write very
well, they bullied students from villages further away. These
students pointed at our foreheads and kicked us when we
passed each other on the way to and from school. Our village had
fourteen boys and five girls in primary school. We were a close knit
group and got along well with each other. Other students didn't argue
or fight with our village's students because we fought back as a group
if one of us was bullied.
I was doing homework alone in the classroom one wintry
afternoon when a group of students came in and circled me. I knew
they were from an upper class and were from Gontsa Village near the
school. "Hey! Cowardly bastard! Do you want to buy some candy for
us or fight with us one by one? I hear you're the boss of your village
gang and a good fighter," a tall boy said arrogantly, removing his
jacket and putting it on a desk. I said nothing. I decided to fight,
though I had money to buy candy. I hated this gang for often
tormenting other students. Obviously, the tall boy would be the first
to fight. I stood up and tried to persuade them not to fight, but they
ignored me. One came over, slapped my face, and insulted me.
"I don't want to fight you. I have no dispute with you, but I'll
never buy candy for you guys. Can I choose one of you to fight?" I
said.
"No, you have to fight me. Come on, piglet!" the tall boy
shouted angrily and then kicked me with all his strength, which
•76•
knocked me to the ground. He and the others burst into laughter.
"Look how easily I defeated you! Now I want you to taste salt
in your ugly mouth," he said, gesturing for me to stand up.
"OK. I'm not afraid of you. Come fight me," I replied, taking
off my jacket and putting it on my desk.
The tall boy rushed at me and kicked me in the belly. I nearly
collapsed but then rushed at him, and grabbed his ears and pulled.
He was not as strong as I imagined. I let go of his ears and punched
him in the belly several times with all my strength. He fell to the
ground as tears filled his eyes. My fists ached.
"I can't get up. You fight him, quickly!" the boy said, pointing
at a fat boy who ran over and punched me in the face, knocking me to
the ground. I looked around, but no students from my village were
there. This boy was stronger and wilder than the first one, and I
believed I could not defeat him. I ran to my desk, took out a small
knife I used for sharpening pencils, stabbed him, pulled his hair, and
pressed him under my body. Afterwards, the classroom was filled
with noise as students crowded around us. Many students gathered
outside the windows looking in, shouting, and clapping their hands.
Suddenly, several students from my village appeared, but they did not
attack my tormentors. It seemed they were afraid. I didn't know what
to do at first, but then I saw firewood piled in the back. I grabbed a
piece. The students from my village followed my example. The fat boy
was crying, saying that he had been stabbed. Meanwhile, the others
retreated, realizing that they could not win. Some pointed at me and
said, "We'll get you next time."
"You lost, we won! Look at you guys!" I said. When they saw
the blood on the fat boy they were shocked. Some were afraid to look
at him and covered their eyes with their hands.
Two or three of my foe's friends shouted, "We'll get you next
time, you bastard," then they held the fat boy's arms and left the
•77•
classroom.
"No one is afraid of you guys, except the lower grades. You
have nothing to be proud of," said one of my friends, and then I
hushed him. We returned to our dormitory. I was surprised that no
teachers learned what had happened. They were in a special meeting
that afternoon. From that day on, my village students took better care
of each other and nobody bullied or bothered us at school.
•78•
15
GRADUATION
ower grade students were in the schoolyard one Friday
L
afternoon, talking about the sixth grade graduation, while the
sixth grade students waited for their head teachers. The
teachers were in a meeting. Our head teacher told us to stay in
the classroom until he returned. My classmates talked about
studying beyond primary school. I had no idea what I would do
because Mother decided everything. My friend, Tsekho, had stopped
studying when we were in the second term of grade five after his
father died. He then stayed at home to help his family. Without
Tsekho I had no intimate friends with whom to share my hopes and
thoughts, although I didn't think about my future very often.
The school leaders came to the classroom with a notebook and
sat in the back of the classroom. "The County Education Bureau has
decided you must go to Tewo County Town to take the middle school
entrance exam," our head teacher stood on the stage and explained.
"We need to collect some money for expenses during the examination
time. I need to talk to you for thirty minutes about this exam.""
The school was silent after this prolonged class meeting. Most
students left for home except the grade six students. I went to my
dormitory room, got the schoolbag I had packed earlier, and hurried
to catch up with the other students. Fortunately, some Bugang
Village30 students were waiting outside the school gate. I decided to
walk with them, knowing I would be protected from any attacks by
boys from the fat boy's village. I thus got home safely, thanking the
30
A mountain village.
•79•
mountain students from my heart for protecting me, because I had
seen some groups of students from the boy's village glaring at me on
the way.
During suppertime that evening at home, I told Mother what
the head teacher had said. She was happy to hear this, because she
wanted me to stay at home and care for the family after I graduated
from primary school. However, I knew Young Uncle expected me to
continue to study beyond middle school.
"It's very nice to hear news of your graduation. I'll prepare
what you need before you go to take the exam in Tewo County Town,"
Mother said.
"Thank you, Mother. I'll do well on the exam, I promise," I
replied confidently, sitting cross-legged by her. I didn't dare voice my
opinion; I just sat mutely on the sheepskin, thinking, "Mother is the
greatest, dearest woman in the world. She has been in charge of the
family for years, has gotten along with her siblings her whole life, and
has never scolded her two brothers and younger sister. It's amazing
how she overcame the difficulties she encountered without the father
of any of her children living with her."
"It's very important that the son stay at home to care for the
family, following local custom. My purpose is that your younger sister
will marry soon after you stop school," Mother said.
"I understand and I agree," I nodded, sipping tea from my
bowl.
I watched her reaction, noticing that she was pleased. She
rewarded me with a warm smile.
As my family members murmured the Six Sacred Syllables as
usual after supper, I went to my bedroom before Young Uncle came. I
had not completely understood everything Mother had said and I
continued thinking about it before falling asleep.
I awoke to the sound of Young Uncle loudly chanting from the
•80•
second story of our home early the next morning. I dressed quickly,
enjoying the morning landscape, especially the small, forested
mountain across from the village and a distant snowy mountain
powdered with a little snow. Smoke from chimneys and smoldering
conifer needle offerings blew through the serene village.
I thought it was the proper time to ask Mother to give me one
hundred yuan for the examination as the head teacher had instructed,
to finance our housing and food while we were taking the middle
school entrance examination in Tewo County Town. It was the first
time I had asked Mother for money and she willingly gave it to me,
expressing the hope that I would graduate soon. A truck provided by
the township government took ten students to Tewo County Town for
the examination. The tall buildings and town residents were strange
to many of the students, who nervously and fearfully followed the
head teacher.
It was not my first time to visit Tewo County Town. Cousin
sold logs and once took me to Linxia City when I was in grade four of
primary school. There, I had seen many cars, trucks, and tall
buildings for the first time.
I earned the highest average score of all Tewo County Tibetan
students who took the middle school entrance examination that year,
bringing fame and honor to our primary school; earlier graduates of
my primary school had received low scores compared to other schools.
The head teacher and school leaders were happy about the scores.
The primary school leader praised me and rewarded me with one
hundred yuan. Young Uncle smiled and told all our relatives to
congratulate me. However, I remained anxious, hoping Mother would
allow me to study beyond middle school.
Cousin came to my home when I returned from taking the
exams and was delighted to hear my news. "I'm happy and will buy
new clothes for you when you begin to study at middle school," he
•81•
said.
I was overjoyed when my family members gathered and had a
grand meal together at my home. I was especially glad that Elder
Sister returned, joined our party, and sang a Tibetan song.
•82•
16
STEALING APPLES
Someone lends barley liquor with trust, and you thank them by
returning water! Jeeshi Tso
uring the long summer vacation in 1996, I went with other
D
children to mountains and forests to pick fruit and collect
mushrooms. We gathered what we liked until the golden sun
hid behind the west mountains in the late afternoon. My
stomach was full of fruits and mushrooms. We played a
marriage game where I was 'Father' and a beautiful girl was 'Mother'.
My face was full of joy when I returned home, because I didn't need
to herd our pigs. There were only a few piglets in the pigsty and
Young Uncle stayed at home to feed them. This provided me a
summer vacation to freely and joyously do what I wanted until school
started.
The mountains provided all the fruits I could wish for, except
apples and pears. One day, a shamefaced child approached me, and
said, "I'll tell you a secret if you promise not to tell others," and led
me to a corner of the village wall.
"Of course, I won't tell others, because your mother and my
mother are friends and you and I also are good friends, right?" I said.
"OK, I believe you won't tell anyone. My friend and I stole
fruit from our neighbor. The pears were very delicious. Do you want
to steal some with me tonight?" he asked.
"I'll keep your secret till I die, but I won't steal, because I don't
like it, and your neighbor is a violent man. He will surely beat us if he
catches us," I said.
•83•
He left and I was sure he would steal again from a neighbor,
who gave a basket of apples to my family every year in autumn.
Nevertheless, I finally decided it was a good idea to steal fruit from
our neighbor that night, and decided to ask my friend, Tsering, to join
me. I went to his home, told him my idea, and he agreed.
"Come to my home as soon as you finish supper. Don't tell
others," I said, and then rushed home for supper with my family.
Tsering came to my home about an hour later and said, "Can
you help me with my arithmetic? I don't know how to solve a
homework problem." Mother liked to help others in the village, so she
agreed that I could help Tsering at his home.
"Don't be late. Return early," Mother said, as I put my
schoolbag on my back. We rushed directly behind my family
courtyard and put our schoolbags there. I climbed the neighbor's wall
and jumped into the orchard, followed by Tsering. We cautiously
proceeded, step by step, because I didn't want to disturb our
neighbor's watchdog. We stopped underneath an apple tree and
listened carefully to ensure no one was around. We heard nothing.
Moonlight shone on the apple tree, dimly illuminating the apples so
that they seemed to be small black dots. I cautiously and quietly
climbed up the tree, picked an apple, and put it in my pocket. Tsering
followed my example. We picked apples until our pockets were full
and then I signaled that it was time to return. He nodded.
"How many apples did you pick?" he asked, after we safely
returned to my courtyard. He showed me what he had picked. We ate
as many as we could, then put the remaining apples in our schoolbags.
The apples were more delicious than any I had eaten before.
"I think we should bury the apples, return tomorrow, and then
take them somewhere to eat," I said.
"Yes, that's a good idea," he replied, munching on a big apple.
We then buried our schoolbags containing the apples. I whispered
•84•
good-bye into his ear. I cautiously opened the door and entered the
room where Mother and Young Sister were repeating the Six Sacred
Syllables. Young Uncle was chanting the same scriptures he chanted
every morning and evening. They said nothing to me, so I quietly
went into the bedroom where Young Uncle and I slept together.
I woke up very early the next morning, took my Tibetan book,
went behind our courtyard, and read loudly. Morning birds were
chirping noisily and the sky was as blue as turquoise without a single
cloud. I continued until Mother called me to breakfast.
Tsering came to my home after his breakfast and whispered in
my right ear that we should go eat the apples we had buried the night
before.
"I'm going out to play with others," I called to Mother.
"OK," Mother said. We went to where we had buried the
apples, dug them up, went to the mountain behind the village, and
climbed a big tree, chatting and giggling quietly. Meanwhile, I
watched our neighbor's orchard to see if they discovered their loss. I
saw no one there.
I returned home in the early afternoon. Young Uncle told me
that a boy had been severely beaten by our neighbor, who had caught
him stealing apples with his friends in the night. I was then very
afraid our neighbor would discover and beat Tsering and me.
Fortunately, our neighbor didn't discover our theft, but Mother and
Tsering's Mother did. Mother was very angry and beat me with a
bamboo stick at home after hearing neighbors talking about stolen
apples and seeing the apples in my schoolbag. I promised Mother I
would never steal again. Our neighbor probably knew what we had
done, but said nothing to me afterwards.
•85•
•••
One morning, Mother said, "Dordor, you will start school in five days,
finish your homework assignment."
"OK, I'll finish it all today," I said and opened my notebook
and Tibetan book to write diary entries.
•86•
17
BIRTHDAY
heard Mother say that a pregnant woman suffers for nine
I
months. Women are brave when they give birth. Mother said,
"My dear one, don't denigrate women. Your mother is a woman.
Some women and girls do things that are greater than what men
and boys do."
I knew that Cousin's wife had been pregnant for almost nine
months. When he and his wife returned home from visiting the
county hospital, Cousin said, "The doctor said she will give birth to a
boy without pain or danger. She should take medicine regularly,
maintain good health, and exercise."
"That's great news," Mother said happily. She was very excited
and hoped for a boy. She loved me more than Young Sister, even
though Young Sister worked at home with her. I was lucky to be the
only son.
Early one morning, Cousin's elder daughter came by and said
that her family needed Mother's help. Young Uncle was both worried
and happy. He began chanting scriptures, lit a butter-lamp in front of
the family shrine, and offered conifer needles on the altar. My family
members were especially happy, because the baby would hopefully be
a boy and it was the last chance for a child according to the birth
control policy. I got up and dressed quickly without washing. I
pleaded to go with Mother and she reluctantly agreed. We found
Cousin burning wheat husks outside the gate when we arrived.
"Come in. We're waiting for you," Cousin said anxiously, and
then put a conifer branch above the gate, signifying no visitors were
•87•
allowed. He had already made an offering of sung on the altar.
Auspicious incense smoke wafted up against a backdrop of the
ocean-blue sky. I followed Mother into the room where Sister-in-law
was on the warm dzeto. Cousin had lit one hundred butter-lamps on
the table in front of the family shrine. I could tell that he had been up
since early that morning and had done everything that needed to be
done such as making religious offerings, the house chores, and so on.
After half an hour, Sister-in-law said that she was
uncomfortable and in pain. Mother and Sister-in-law's eldest
daughter went to her bedside and held her hands. Unexpectedly,
Mother ordered me to leave. I obediently left. I really wanted to see
the baby when he first entered the world, because I had never seen a
baby who had just emerged from its mother. I went into the kitchen
where Cousin was boiling mutton and pork. He said nothing to me,
just chanted scriptures that I had never heard before. I stood by the
stove, warming up. He restlessly swept the stove, cleaned the kitchen,
and said, "I must go to the altar on the second floor to look after the
sung fire. Don't leave," and gave me a piece of pork from the pot
before he left.
"OK," I said, nibbling the pork. I was hoping to hear Mother
call me to see the baby. Ten minutes seemed like an hour. I hummed
a tune I had learned in primary school. I hated being alone. Cousin
returned with an armful of firewood, put some in the stove, and then
went to the shrine to light more butter lamps.
Suddenly, Mother came into the kitchen and said, "The baby
is safe and lovely. Come see."
Full of curiosity, I rushed into the room and saw Sister-in-law
with the baby, who was wrapped in a small quilt and sleeping. He was
very cute with tiny hands. We all happily looked at the baby, Mother
went to the kitchen, ladled mutton soup into a bowl, handed it to
Sister-in-law, and said, "Try to drink this soup." I enjoyed watching
•88•
the baby and didn't notice anyone else. I was afraid of getting too
close to the baby, because Mother was there.
After lunch with the family, Cousin went with a khada and
money to the local monastery by bicycle. Mother told him to ask the
lama to give a name for the baby and chant for him. I didn't want to
stay any longer, because I had seen the baby and eaten a good lunch,
so I went out and played with village children.
•89•
18
TEWO TIBETAN MIDDLE SCHOOL
hile attending primary school I longed to attend middle
W
school. I especially admired the middle school gate. The
buildings were in a big yard, but the gate made it very
special. It was beautifully painted in five colors and
decorated with snow-lions, tigers, and dragons. The gate
cost more than 100,000 RMB when it was built in 1985. I had heard
many esteemed Tibetan teachers were at the middle school. For all
these reasons, grade six primary school students eagerly anticipated
attending middle school and ardently prepared for the entrance
exam.
"Dordor's future will not be like ours. We can't change our
lives, but we can help change his. I'm sure he will have a better future
life," Young Uncle said hopefully. After talking a lot about my future
and our family's condition, the decision was reached that I should
attend the Tibetan middle school for a better education.
Mother asked Brother-in-law if I could live at his home near
the school during the term. She felt that I couldn't cook by myself and
it would be safer and more convenient to stay at Brother-in-law's
home. Brother-in-law welcomed me and asked me to help my nephew
and niece with their studies. Elder Sister prepared a room for me
where I could sleep and study. Brother-in-law gave me a good bicycle
to ride to school.
Middle school tuition was not expensive, but was still much
more money than primary school. We had more subjects, more
classes, and studied harder than before. I got up early every morning
•90•
and went to school by bike with students from Brother-in-law's
village. I started middle school at the age of fifteen. The weather was
cold that winter with several heavy snows.
I prepared for each class and did well. The head teacher and
my Tibetan teacher appreciated my study and praised me in front of
the class and the school. I received awards because my scores were
the highest. This delighted Brother-in-law's family, Young Uncle, and
Cousin. Mother didn't care much about my studies. She only hoped I
would soon return home and care for my family as other local boys
did.
When
I
was
in
junior
middle
school
grade
one,
Brother-in-law's mother told us about her parents:
My family owned a lot of land. We were rich and had much power
in the village. Father took what he wanted from others, not caring
who they were. He fell in love with a beautiful Sichuan Tibetan
woman from a village about forty kilometers away. The Sichuan
woman met him every time she came to town to buy necessities
for her family. Then, her family arranged for her to marry a man
from her own village, though she had promised that she would
come and marry Father. At that time, there were many conflicts
between tribes, villages, and areas.
After Father discovered she had married a man in her
village, he angrily decided to kill that man. He went into the
forest across from her village every day, hoping she would come.
He planned to kidnap her. One spring morning she came with her
new husband and a horse to plow the fields. Father looked
around, saw no one else, rushed at the man, stabbed him
several times, killed him, and cut off his ears as evidence that he
was a hero. As soon as the local villagers discovered this, they
gave chase, waving their swords and knives. Father and the
Sichuan woman fled to Father's home. Father also killed two
men from the other man's village on the way. This led to a long,
horrible conflict between Father's and Mother's villages in which
•91•
eight more people were killed.
They lived happily for two years and had a daughter
(Brother-in-law's mother). One day, while villagers were busily
harvesting in the field, two men from the murdered man's village
came and hid in grass until sunset. When all the villagers left for
home, the two men rushed at Father, stabbed him repeatedly,
cut off his ears and then fled without the village's knowledge.
When villagers realized what had happened, they gave chase,
but they didn't catch them.
The conflict between the two villages resumed and four
more people were killed.
After your brother-in-law was born and a new young
generation came along, the Sichuan woman's family and
Brother-in-law's family reunited and built a solid family
relationship. Now, they visit each other's homes when they have
spare time, especially during the Tibetan New Year.
My middle school life was happy and I had a good
relationship with the teachers and students. We planted willows on
the mountain by the school, planted a school garden in spring, visited
beautiful places, hiked in summer, swam in White Dragon River,
joyfully ate delicious fruits in autumn, played various games, and had
snowball fights in winter. I made friends whose homes were in many
different townships. Middle school was full of activities and
challenges and time passed quickly. Some students said middle
school was boring, because they had too much homework. I thought
differently and enjoyed learning new things from teachers,
classmates, and friends.
•92•
19
A WEDDING PARTY
t is customary to hold religious rituals, wedding parties, drinking
I
parties, and so on during the Tibetan New Year period. The
fourth and fifth days of the first lunar month are the most
auspicious days of the year for marriage. Young unmarried men
and women talk openly about love during these two days, even in
the presence of elders. It is a great time to show your feelings to
someone you love.
The oldest son customarily marries and stays at home to care
for the family, while his siblings leave home after marriage. Sons
divide the family property equally if the family is wealthy. The oldest
son cares for his father and the second son looks after his mother.
Occasionally, a man marries his wife's sister, especially if he is rich
and his wife's family is poor, and then takes responsibility for his
wife's family and his own.
Some Tibetans living near my village have lives similar to ours,
but their marriage systems are quite different. All their sons stay at
home to care for the family, because they have a lot of farmland to
plow. After the oldest son marries, the younger brother shares his
oldest brother's wife. The oldest brother sleeps with his wife. After
the first child is born, the second brother sleeps with the wife and
they have more children. Daughters leave the home when they marry
and live with their husbands.
When I was fifteen, a wealthy respected village family planned
to hold a grand wedding party for their oldest son on the fourth and
fifth days of the lunar month. Locals said it was the biggest wedding
•93•
in village history. I was happy to hear this, because children enjoyed
the wedding parties. The girls and boys spent much time preparing
wedding dances before Losar. We saw the groom's family with things
they had bought for the wedding every afternoon while we practiced
dances at the village school. Unfortunately, the oldest, most respected
man in the village suddenly died on New Year's Eve. The groom's
father came to the village school where we were practicing the
wedding dances and said, "Thank all of you for preparing wedding
dances. Unfortunately, we must change our plan for the wedding. We
will have a small wedding party. All the villagers respect the family of
the old man who has just passed away, so we canceled the wedding
dances." Then he gave candies to each of us, and left. We dejectedly
left the village school and returned home.
The fourth day of Losar was coming - time for the wedding
party. I was in no mood to enjoy the day, but Mother woke me up at
dawn to tell me that I had been asked to help, which meant I would
go with several older men to greet and welcome the bride to our
village. The groom would give ten to fifteen bags of pork, five boxes of
tea, and other gifts to the bride's family. After eating an early
breakfast, I got on a truck near the village with the groom's family
and relatives. The truck was loaded with fried bread, pork, khada,
and so on. We slowly drove a long time on a rough dirt road to the
bride's village where we waited for the bride's family and villagers.
Elders placed khada on mani-stones by the village and patiently
waited. When people came out of the bride's home, we would offer
khada, homemade liquor, and beer to the men of the bride's village
and give candies to the girls, women, and children.
We made a fire by the village with their firewood and waited
for the bride. Later, I acted as a helper and went with one of the
groom's important representatives to the bride's home to answer
questions asked by the bride's villagers and relatives.
•94•
An older man in our group offered khada to the bride's
parents and elders. The others offered homemade liquor and beer to
the bride's uncles and aunts. Meanwhile, I busily distributed boxes of
candy to the bride's villagers and relatives. Suddenly, the bride's
villagers started rubbing my head and teasing me. I knew I should not
get angry, though I was very embarrassed and nervous facing such
strangers. I had never encountered such a situation before.
A monk melodiously chanted scriptures on the dzeto while
making sacred gestures.
I didn't see the bride at that time, but later saw her in a small
room wearing fancy clothes, a khada, jewels, rings, and earrings. Two
women were dressing the bride's hair in the traditional hairstyle with
jewels. When they finished, she came with other young women to a
large room where villagers and relatives were sitting. She cried
quietly under her breath. Her parents, old women, and the bride's
female friends were also crying. Young women the bride's age were
crying a little more loudly than others. With two young women
supporting her, the bride circled the main house pillar three times.
Older women sang wedding songs near the bride. Next, several older
men sang loudly and then four young men with good voices sang
traditional songs.
The monk chanted scriptures as the bride walked out of her
courtyard gate. All the villagers were gathered, quietly listening to the
monk. As we came out of the bride's village, the villagers cheered up
and some began singing love songs. We patiently offered homemade
liquor, beer, and candy to them again. Then the old men of the bride's
village offered khada to our elders and tied one to the front of each
truck.
We then got in the trucks, which were driven to a site between
the bride's and groom's villages. We got out of the trucks and sat on
grass in a line, ranging from oldest to youngest. I sat at the end of the
•95•
line, because I was the youngest. The older men sang wedding songs
in turn, while young people enjoyed the wedding party for two to
three hours. Villagers offered khada, beer, and liquor to each other.
Finally, the bride and our people got in our truck, cheered happily,
and sang love songs. Our men exchanged our leather bags of pork for
the bride's sacks of grains. Joyously, we then bid farewell to each
other and left.
Back at my village, we didn't enjoy the wedding party very
much. However, elders who came to the groom's home drank liquor,
chatted quietly, and laughed. I was exhausted and glad when Mother
called me to our home.
I didn't escort the bride to her new home on the fifth day,
because Mother said several other people would do that.
•96•
20
PLOWING
pring begins a month after the fifteenth day of the Tibetan New
S
Year period. The leader of the field guards31 holds a meeting to
decide when plowing should begin. Each field guard is
responsible for the same number of households. There are three
groups of field guards each year, who choose a single new leader
each year. This man with the village leader manages all the village's
business and religious activities including carrying Buddhist
scriptures around the fields, deciding when the women and girls
should go to the place of water deities to beseech the deities for a
good harvest and adequate rain, and fining families whose livestock
enter fields. The fines are paid in cash or grain, with the amount
dependent on the damage caused. Horses and yaks are fined the
heaviest and pigs and sheep are fined the least, because large
livestock eat more crops than small livestock.
•••
Streams flowed fast from melting snow. The sweet fragrance of
flowers spread over the village and across the fields, livestock happily
ate new grass, and crops that had been planted in late winter were
starting to sprout, all signs of an auspicious spring. As the sun rose
bright from behind the eastern mountains, the pleasing odor of
smoldering sung wafted through the village and slowly rose into the
sky. Farmers offered incense to Grandfather Mountain Dawa the day
before plowing, confident that the mountain deity would provide a
31
Locally, these field guards are called debi ngosrung.
•97•
good harvest.
"We will offer sung to you and obey you. Bring us good
harvests without floods. Bring a good harvest without storms, no
harm to people, and no disease for livestock. My Dawa Mountain is
like a parent who cares for his children. You know best," the villagers
chanted, while offering sung on the village altar in the early
mornings.
The farmers carried plows on their shoulders and bags of
grain on their backs and led horses, mules, and yaks to the fields at
dawn. An experienced older farmer took grain from his basket and
scattered it on his field while moving forward and dragging his foot
behind him to make a line. He would use this line later as a guide
when scattering grain in the other direction. In another field, a young
man harnessed his horse to the plow and held the leather reins. The
horse had its head down and tried its best to pull the plow as the
young man followed. He snapped a whip to urge the horse forward
and sometimes shouted at the horse to speed up. His hands firmly
gripping the plow, skillfully guided it. In other fields, children led
bulls or gentle horses as they plowed. Women pounded clods of
freshly plowed earth into bits with mallets. Relatives came with food
at breakfast time. Since there was no one at home except
grandparents and babies, there was no food to eat unless helpers
prepared it and brought it to the fields.
Village girls and women dressed in colorful long skirts and
scarves came with leather bags at noon. Some young wives rubbed
lotion on their faces and tied their hair back so it fell down their backs,
like a beautiful inky waterfall. Boys dressed in new clothes. Elders
said locals celebrated this auspicious day for mountain deities and for
plowing. It delighted the deities, gave people energy, and ensured
good autumn harvests.
In one family field, an older man slowly plowed behind two
•98•
strong, yoked yaks, which strode steadily and obediently forward. A
beautiful, tall, alert woman wearing long dark clothes walked behind
the old man. She took a handful of beans from her small basket and
skillfully dropped them into the freshly-plowed furrow in the ground.
The farmers and helpers happily returned home before the
sun set behind the distant western mountains, their faces streaked
with dirty sweat. After everyone finished eating supper, village men
came out with their horses to the large fields in front of the village
and raced the horses until dark. A few stars appeared in the sky to
escort us home as the earth turned dark and tranquil. Many went to
bed while others baked bread, fed the plow animals, and prepared for
the next day's plowing. Horse hooves echoed in the silent sky as I
went to bed that night. No helpers came the next day; we plowed by
ourselves. Most village families finished plowing in three days, while
some other families needed four days. Those who finished plowing
early helped families with large fields.
•99•
21
CHURNING MILK
rops grew lush in the fields. Bean plants gently undulated like
C
ocean waves in the breeze. I was on summer vacation from
middle school. Young Sister went to the mountains with other
village women and cut two baskets of grass a day to use as
winter fodder for livestock. The women and girls had much
work to do in summer, such as weeding and milking every morning
and late afternoon. Young Uncle herded the village cows, including
my family's three cows, when it was my family's turn. I enjoyed
herding pigs with other villagers every day on the summer pasture.
The field guards strictly policed the fields. I thought, "If Elder Uncle
were still here, he would surely return and help us herd."
One evening, I drove the pigs back home and into the pigsty.
As I tiredly entered my home, I saw Mother churning milk, which she
did once every five days in summer. Mother said, "I'm busy this
summer, because I must milk two cows and one zomo, but I'm very
happy to milk them and make butter and cheese for our family. This
work is much lighter than when I was milking the village cows, zomo,
and yaks with Aunt Zebatso on the mountain thirty years ago. There
were hundreds to milk from dawn until noon, and only the two of us
to do it! After I finished milking, my fingers ached. Then we needed
to churn three or four times a day and dry the cheese in the sun. It
was a lot of work. The village praised me at the end of the year and
gave butter to our family as a reward."
"Mother, I'll help you," I said, hurrying over, gripping the
handle, and churning. Mother sat on a chair by the stove and watched.
•100•
I churned for a while and then stopped because my hands hurt and I
was tired. I called Young Sister, who churned longer then I did.
Mother then churned continuously for half an hour.
"Dordor, come hold the handle while I wash my hands,"
Mother said, as I held my bowl, waiting impatiently for fresh butter.
"OK," I replied obediently and eagerly, because I desperately
wanted to eat fresh butter before going to bed.
Mother finished washing her hands, took fresh butter from
the churn, kneaded the butter skillfully into a flat, round cake, and
then made one big ball of butter and five small balls. One small ball
was offered to the family stove deity. The remaining four were for our
family. After Young Uncle offered a little buttermilk to the family
stove deity, he poured me a bowl of buttermilk and gave me a small
ball of butter, which I mixed with tsamba while it melted on the stove.
A bit later I ate it while drinking buttermilk. It was really delicious.
Young Uncle chanted the Six Sacred Syllables while keeping
an eye on the buttermilk, which was heating on the stove. Mother and
Young Sister cleaned the churn, room, and utensils, and arranged
everything neatly. Eventually, Mother made the cheese, explaining to
Young Sister how to make it. Young Sister learned slowly and could
not churn without Mother's assistance. When it was ready, Mother
poured fresh, moist cheese for everyone. Soon, I was deep asleep in
bed with a full stomach.
The next morning when I awoke, Mother came to my bed and
said, "You don't need to herd pigs today. Today is sunny so you must
dry the cheese."
"OK, Mother," I said, but slept again until Young Sister called
me for breakfast. After breakfast, Mother took a basket from the third
story of our home to the second story where I was waiting. She spread
the cheese out in the sun while I sat on a chair in the shade and
watched, keeping cats and birds away from the cheese. While I was
•101•
drying the cheese, I took a small basket from my home, put a little
cheese under it, and tied a rope to a stick propping up the
over-turned basket. When birds flew under the basket to eat the
cheese, I pulled the rope, trapping them. I caught five or six hungry
birds this way. I later released them.
•102•
22
TRAGEDY
he day before Mother was injured, I had a dream: I was at
T
Brother-in-law's home, attending school. Young people were
playing cards, drinking happily, laughing loudly, and making
lots of noise at my home with Mother. The dream woke me at
dawn and I could not go back to sleep. I chanted scriptures Young
Uncle had taught me when I was at home, and went to school in a
depressed frame of mind.
I heard a motorcycle stop outside Brother-in-law's home that
evening while I was doing my homework. I thought that it was just a
guest, but it was Ojan Tsering.
"Dordor, Ojan is looking for you," Brother-in-law called
urgently.
I was sure something was wrong. I threw down my books and
rushed out of my room.
"Your Mother was injured and is now in the county hospital
with your family and several of our villagers. I came here to get you,"
he said.
"Do you want to drink something?" Brother-in-law asked.
Then he went to the stove and put a teapot on it, but Ojan remained
standing.
"Thanks, but I have no time. I must go now. Go get your
schoolbooks. Your family and the villagers are waiting for us at the
hospital," he said.
"OK," I said, tossing my books in my schoolbag. We then rode
a motorbike to the hospital. Elder Sister and Brother-in-law followed
•103•
on their tractor.
When we arrived at the hospital, we found all our Anebuze
tribesmen talking to Cousin about treatment. Mother lay in bed.
Nurses were helping the doctor give Mother an injection. Her head
was stitched and covered with a white bandage. Elder Sister and
Young Sister were sobbing quietly by Mother's bed. I had nothing to
say. Mother was unconscious. Cousin came and told me not to cry.
"The doctor said that your mother is not seriously hurt and that she'll
soon be fine," he said reassuringly.
I did not believe him because I thought Mother would leave us,
like Elder Uncle.
Villagers had helped bring Mother to the hospital, which was
about four kilometers from the village. I appreciated their concern
and thanked them sincerely. They stayed at the hospital until about
midnight when Mother regained consciousness and could talk. Then
they ate some food with Cousin and returned home. I then decided
that I would do my best to help them when they needed it. Young
Sister stayed up that night to watch Mother.
Young Sister told me that she had gone to the county town a
week earlier to buy wheat flour and other items with a widow whom
Mother had asked to help with the purchases. Few people had contact
with this widow or talked with her family. Mother didn't care much
about local superstition, which said that widows brought bad luck.
Mother helped and comforted this widow whenever she came to our
home. Our two families had worked together each winter since her
husband passed away. Cousin and her husband had been best friends,
and Cousin had also helped her a lot after her husband died.
Young Sister could not speak Chinese and Mother had no time,
so the widow had promised to help. That afternoon, Young Sister
bought five bags of wheat flour with the widow's help. She told
Mother that it was a little strange that one bag of wheat flour was
•104•
missing when she got home. Mother calculated how much was paid
and how many things were bought, based on Young Sister's account.
By Mother's calculation, a bag of wheat flour was surely missing.
Mother then went to the widow's home and asked about it. The
widow was outraged, shouted, and insulted Mother. Mother
remained silent and returned home. The next day, Mother questioned
other women who had gone with Young Sister. They said Young
Sister had indeed bought five bags of wheat flour with the widow.
The women told others what Mother was asking. After several
days, the widow heard rumors that she was a thief who had stolen a
bag of flour from Young Sister. One morning, she brought a bag of
wheat flour to my home without saying anything, but Mother rejected
it. The two argued. Finally, the widow beat Mother violently with a
stick of firewood as her two daughters held Mother, knocking Mother
to the ground. Neither Young Sister nor Young Uncle was present.
After my family discovered Mother was injured, several young
villagers brought her to the county hospital.
Mother stayed at the hospital for seventeen days. My sisters
were outraged and wanted to beat the widow, but Cousin and Young
Uncle stopped them. "Never use fists on women and girls, especially
widows," they said.
Relatives and villagers visited Mother with fruit and money
during the seventeen days of her hospitalization. My family spent a
lot of money while we were staying there. Sometimes I cooked at the
hospital for Mother, who fully recovered. Tribal elders discussed the
situation and resolved the matter by requiring the widow's family to
pay the 1,300 RMB needed for the medical treatment. However, our
families never talked to each other again.
•105•
23
A HOT SPRING
t was the fifteenth day of the eighth lunar month, an auspicious
I
day for bathing. I was sixteen. Mother stayed at home chanting
the Six Sacred Syllables. She said her head ached when there was
lightning before rain, although she didn't know how her head
pain related to this. I worried that she hadn't completely
recovered from the widow's beating.
Young Uncle and I joined the seven-day Mani Ritual at Lhamo
Monastery. Afterwards, Young Uncle and I took the bus back home.
On the way, the bus driver said, "Since today is a bathing day, I will
take all of you to a hot spring for free."
"Thank you. Of course we would like to go," Young Uncle said
warmly. The other passengers also agreed. I was delighted, because it
was my first time to visit and bathe there with Young Uncle and other
Tibetans. It was a long journey into a big valley. I sat on Young
Uncle's lap while he sat cross-legged on an old sheepskin. Through
the windows I saw many Tibetan villages along the road in Ngawa
Prefecture. Livestock grazed near fields and family watchdogs were at
their gates, barking when they saw the bus. I saw deer, fawns, rabbits,
yaks, vultures, and pheasants. The valley was full of juniper trees,
especially near the hot spring site, and their fragrance filled the air.
After disembarking from the bus, Young Uncle pointed to a building
and said, "The hot water runs from the left side of that grove of
juniper trees and into that big room. We will go there and bathe.
Women have another room. Han Chinese and foreigners must pay
two yuan, but it's free for Tibetans."
•106•
The right side of the valley was a steep rocky mountain where
few juniper trees grew. Young Uncle said meditation caves were in a
rocky slope that was covered with countless prayer flags. The weather
seemed warmer as we approached the spring. Hundreds had come to
bathe to treat their illnesses. Tibetans, non-Tibetans, nomads, and
farmers from Gansu and Sichuan were all there. The water was very
hot when I first put my foot in it, but slowly it felt less hot. The water
was changed every two hours. We bathed with five strangers for an
hour. Only about fifteen people could bathe together.
After we finished, we visited several nearby smaller pools. We
drank a little of the holy water as if it were medicine, got on the bus,
and returned home. I told Mother what I had seen and had done at
Lhamo Monastery and at the sacred hot spring. She smiled warmly,
sat cross-legged on a square of sheepskin, and told me a story about
beseeching mountain deities for rain:
All our village women and girls prepare to go to the sacred place
of the naga on the fifteenth day of the fifth lunar month. No males
go there. We take tsamba and conifer leaves to offer and request
rain when there is a drought before harvesting. We offer incense
and chant mani where the naga are. Girls collect plants from the
forest. Older women stay at the sacred place of naga, chanting
and waiting for the girls. They also prepare questions to ask naga
and mountain deities. When the girls return, we make naga
shapes out of the plants and dress them in beautiful clothes with
earrings and new shoes, like how a local woman dresses for a
special occasion. Afterward, old women beseech the great
mountain deities and great naga for rain for our community.
Black clouds begin gathering over our village. After it rains,
women ask many questions about their family's health and
wellbeing. 'Will my daughter find a good husband this year?' 'Can
my son find a good job this year?' 'Will we have a peaceful life this
year?' The naga jump or shake in answer to each question. If the
family will not have a good life, the naga shake fiercely. If the
•107•
family will find a good husband or wife, the naga jump happily.
The naga will not jump or shake if males are present.
Finally, the older women gather to thank the deities and
naga by singing to them. Then, we untie the plants, leave them in
a pile, and happily return home.
This was Mother's brief description of beseeching deities for
rainfall before village harvest.
Today, I doubt naga jump and shake, but I believe mountain
deities and naga help locals.
•108•
24
THE GANLHO NORMAL SCHOOL
hen I received my acceptance letter from the Tibetan
W
Department of Ganlho Normal School, my family agreed
that I could attend. I had asked for permission to attend
the Tibetan Middle School of Tso. 32 I got the second
highest score of all students that year in Tewo, and believed
I could catch up with other students if I studied harder than ever
before. However, my family rejected my request.
Cousin took me to Tso, the capital city of Ganlho Prefecture,
where Ganlho Normal School is located. Cousin and I arrived two
days before classes started. Apo Square features a stone Tibetan yak
standing ten meters high amid some small trees. There is also a white,
stone Tibetan antelope in this square. There were many cars and
buses on the street. High buildings surrounded this square, higher
than any in our county town.
Cousin and I went to the Nine Story Tower by taxi, which is
about three kilometers from the city square. Cousin bought khada
and then we prayed inside. We took off our shoes and prostrated
three times before we entered the first floor where Buddha images,
pictures of lamas, and images of Tibetan kings, queens, scholars, and
Tonmi Sampodra33 are kept. We chanted scriptures as we prayed. We
climbed up the nine floors, worshiping on each floor as we went.
Later, we circumambulated the Tower, and then returned to the hotel
Tibetan: Antelope City; Chinese = Hezuo.
Tonmi Sampodra went to India to study Sanskrit, returned to Tibet, and
then created the Tibetan alphabet during the rule of King Songtsan Gampo.
•109•
32
33
and watched TV. Some say the Tower was built by Milarepa long ago.
Locals say there are many different histories of the Tower.
Cousin called my head teacher to learn exactly when school
would start, and then we went to register. We were unfamiliar with
the school, and didn't know where the head teacher's office was.
Luckily, I met four students who had entered the school the previous
year. They helped me register. I noticed the language most students
spoke was quite different from my dialect. I realized that I would
have to overcome this obstacle quickly or I would have trouble in
Tibetan class. Students were from seven counties and one city, and
were Tibetan, Han Chinese, and Hui.
Cousin went home after I registered. I only knew the four
students who had helped me register. When I had nothing to do, I
found them and chatted. They also had the same difficulties I had
concerning the dialect. They said that each year the school gave a
prize to the best student in each class, and such students could find a
job easily after graduating.
There were fifty-four students in my class. The head teacher
told us many things and seemed strict and solemn. I understood very
little because of the language barrier. Later, students from Jone
County explained what had been said. I communicated in Chinese
with classmates who were not from Jone for about six weeks until I
had learned more of the Amdo dialect spoken by most students. I was
helped by classmates and teachers during the weekends. During the
time I was learning the dialect, I had difficulty following the classes.
My classmates, including my hometown mates, often teased me, but I
ignored them. Every Wednesday evening, each student had to go to
the stage and tell a Tibetan story to the class and the Tibetan teacher.
This was very hard for me because speaking Amdo was difficult for
me. Students burst into laughter when I spoke in my own dialect. I
dreaded Wednesday evenings.
•110•
There were about ten subjects in normal school. The most
important was Tibetan, since we were in the Tibetan Department. I
studied hard and got good scores. Some classmates didn't like me and
laughed at me when I talked with them. Several female students also
disliked me and said I was not Tibetan, because I couldn't speak a
variety of Tibetan that they could understand. However, my
roommates never made fun of me. They were kind and respected me,
especially those from Jone County. I learned from them and never
turned down a chance to improve. With teachers' and classmates'
help and encouragement, I got many prizes.
•111•
25
A LOST YAK
t snowed for two nights and a day in the winter of 2002. The
I
livestock came down from the mountains, gathered around the
village, drank water from the river, and had a warm place to sleep.
The weather was colder in the mountains, where the snow was
deeper and the streams were frozen. Some families sold one or
two of their weakest yaks. Other families sold the best ones for cash.
My family sold our best yak to pay for my school fees. The yaks were
loaded on tractor-trailers with ropes and transported to the county
town.
The snowmelt began on the lower part of the mountain after
two sunny days and the yaks returned to the mountains. A Muslim
yak buyer informed us that they had lost a yak when they were on
their way to the county town with some yaks they had bought. They
had followed the yak, but had lost it in the darkness. The dealer
thought that the yak had returned to my village's mountain and
offered 1,000 yuan to whoever found it.
"Dordor," someone called after supper when Mother was
counting her prayer beads and Young Uncle was spinning his prayer
wheel as usual. Young Sister and I were watching TV.
"Hey! Who are you?" I called back.
"Me. Your neighbor," he said and shone a torch in my face
when I got to the gate.
"My friend and I will go to the mountain to look for the lost
yak tomorrow. Will you come with us? Go ask your Mother if you can
come. I'll wait for you," he said.
•112•
I rushed into my home and told Mother what the neighbor
had said.
"It's up to you. Go if you want. We have nothing special to do
these days," Mother said.
I returned and said, "Mother agrees. I'll go with you. What
time will we leave?"
"I'll call you at dawn," he said and left.
Mother told me to make dough and told Young Sister to bake
bread for food on my journey. After I kneaded the wheat flour and
flattened it, Young Sister said she wanted to watch TV. Mother got
angry and loudly ordered her to bake it. She then grudgingly went to
the kitchen and baked the bread for my journey. I went to bed early.
As soon as the neighbor called the next morning, Mother got
up and put the baked bread into the leather bag that I carried when I
herded pigs. The weather was not very cold at dawn, but I still put on
the thick clothes Mother had prepared. My neighbor and his friends
waited outside the gate. I walked between them, because they were
concerned that I could not see the path. No morning birds chirped on
the tranquil, snow-covered earth. We looked for livestock as we
climbed the mountain. Usually, people rest five or six times before
reaching the mountaintop, but we rested just once. It was very cold.
Light snow blew on the mountain. We made a big fire by the forest
and warmed ourselves for two hours. We discussed in which direction
we should go and also chatted about girls and who we should chase.
We decided to split up. My neighbor and I would go behind
the mountain and his friend would search in front of the mountain. It
was a little dangerous, because the snow-covered path was slippery.
We agreed to meet at the summer pasture. We put snow on the fire,
making sure it was dead before we left. My neighbor looked for
livestock through a pair of binoculars. He said that he saw nothing on
the lower part of the mountain. We walked through a small forest and
•113•
found several groups of yaks, but not the lost yak. My neighbor was
familiar with the missing yak's color and horns. Then we made a fire
to dry our clothes and warm our feet.
"Let's have some baked bread and apples before we take off
our shoes and socks," he suggested. I was very hungry and took out
my baked bread, which we ate with apples by the fire like two
monkeys.
"The yak probably didn't return to the mountain. What do you
think?" he said.
"I don't know. I have no experience with the places that
livestock stay," I said, drying my socks by the fire.
When we reached the hut on the summer pasture where we
had agreed to meet, his four friends had made a fire and were waiting
for us. My feet were numb and I was so cold that I trembled like a leaf
in the wind. His friends were talking with a mountain villager and
basking by the fire. I asked him if they had seen the lost yak. One
replied that he had seen nothing.
We ate the remaining food, chatted, laughed, and stayed by
the fire until our clothes dried. They were sure that the lost yak hadn't
return to the mountain. My neighbor, who has an amazing voice,
sang love songs on the way home.
The next day, many villagers went looking for the lost yak but
my neighbor and I didn't join them. The villagers found nothing and
returned home that afternoon. Ten days later, we heard that an old
man from a village near Tiger Mountain had seen the lost yak. There
were no further reports.
•114•
26
GREEN ENVIRONMENT
t was the end of the Tibetan New Year holiday in 2002. Villagers
I
were basking in the sun daily. Elders gathered around the
mani-shrine, chanting the Six Sacred Syllables. Many villagers
gathered in homes, played chess, chatted, and drank beer and
homemade liquor. The village leader called the family heads to a
meeting before we plowed the fields. Family-heads and young people
gathered in the meeting hall. Four officials were already there.
"Please listen as I read this official announcement about
planting trees and grass in fields to improve and conserve the
environment." He read for twenty minutes as we listened in
astonishment. He finished with, "Please give me your suggestions
about planting. You can discuss this outside the meeting hall as well."
An old man said our ancestors had depended on the fields to
survive for generations and, if we stopped farming, we would lose our
culture and lives.
A young man said that modern society was developing rapidly
and that it was an excellent idea to get food and clothes in return for
planting trees and grass in the fields.
Another man said it was not a bad idea to plant trees and
grass in half of the fields, because we would plant trees on
poor-quality farmland and plant grass on mountain farmland.
Several women said they liked the idea of planting trees in the
lower farmland and planting grass in the upper part, because it was a
heavy burden for women and girls to do fieldwork all their lives. The
officials finally decided that our village must plant trees and grass on
•115•
all of the farmland, because most farmland was located by the railway.
It would thus prove that trees had been planted when provincial
inspectors came.
Officials came from the county town a week later and
measured the fields with the villagers. Trees and grass were thus
planted in 2002. There were many disagreements over the size of the
fields when the measurements were made.
The provincial government routed a railway from my
township to Ganlho that year. My family lost fifteen and half mu that
we had cultivated for years. The villagers spent about seventy days
planting trees and grass.
Life has changed drastically. Villagers must now leave their
homes to earn income doing construction work, road building, and
gold mining. Generally, only old people and children stay in the
village in summer and autumn. Elders blame the young generations
and lazy women for the decision to plant trees and grass in fields and
complain that the village is not as united as before. Many traditional
customs, religious rituals, and celebrations are also disappearing.
•116•
27
SLAUGHTERING PIGS
laughtering pigs before Losar is necessary because pork is an
S
essential Losar food. There are no specific dates for butchering
pigs. Instead, families do it whenever they are free and have the
necessary helpers. We give pork to relatives when they hold a
wedding party or a funeral. We cook pork for visitors to show
hospitality. Students give pork to county officials when they seek
favors. Some families raise pigs and sell pork in the county town
before Losar. My family slaughters four or five pigs yearly.
My family had four, big fat pigs to slaughter when I returned
from Ganlho Normal School in 2003. Mother said we lacked pig feed
so we should slaughter the pigs before Losar. Homemakers usually
feed their pigs with water and not much grain when they are about to
slaughter them, making the pigs' intestines easier to clean.
I got up when Mother called early one morning. Young Uncle
chanted scriptures before I asked men from our tribe to help
slaughter the pigs. Mother and Young Sister prepared knives and
breakfast. After I called one time at each home, the men came
immediately with ropes and knives, because Mother had told our
tribesmen the day before that my family would slaughter the pigs the
next day.
Helpers ate the breakfast we had prepared, and then the
young men went to the pigsty while the older men sharpened knives.
We slowly approached the pigs, worried that they would bite us. One
man caught a pig by grabbing hold of its ears. Then, a rope was tied
around its neck and it was pulled away by other helpers. After all four
•117•
pigs were hanging from the pigsty ceiling, I handed a knife to Cousin,
who stabbed each pig. Three butter-lamps were lit in the family
shrine. Young Uncle and other family members chanted the Six
Sacred Syllables to absolve the killer of sin. One person held the back
of the pig and loosened the rope to let blood run into a metal basin
held under the pig. Young Uncle came into the pigsty with the prayer
wheel and holy water, chanted the Six Sacred Syllables, touched the
prayer wheel to each pig's head three times, and poured holy water
into each pig's mouth. The pigs died quickly.
Later, we put the four carcasses into a pushcart and took
utensils and kettle to a stream where Young Sister had prepared a big
pot of boiling water. Cousin checked the hot water and then the
carcasses were put inside. We removed the carcass after a few
minutes, put them on a big board, and removed the bristles, which we
later exchanged for red pepper from pepper dealers.
We then took the carcasses to another fire to singe any
remaining hair. Cousin and I washed the carcasses. Afterward, the
pigs were cut open and blood inside the chest was removed with a
small bowl and placed in a metal basin. Next, the intestines, liver, and
heart were removed. Young people cleaned the intestines as children
poured warm water inside to wash them clean.
Older men took the carcasses to our home, cut them up, and
hung the pieces from roof poles.
It was noon when young people finished washing intestines.
During this process, the butchers had a lunch of pork pieces mixed
with chili and vinegar. I pushed the cart home as the butchers were
eating and drinking beer. When the butchers finished eating, they
continued working and then Mother offered lunch.
Two old men kneaded barley flour mixed with small pieces of
pork, onion, and salt, then stuffed the mixture into intestines that
had been washed several times with hot water. Meanwhile, four
•118•
young people mixed blood and bean flour with water in a big pot;
added salt, onion, garlic, and other spices; and stuffed this mixture
into other intestines to make other sausages. The two older men
boiled the sausages.
Meanwhile, Cousin boiled fresh pork in the kitchen as Mother
and Young Sister washed the utensils we had used that morning. I
ran here and there the whole day whenever I was called, because I
was the youngest boy in my family.
When the butchers finished in the afternoon, Mother invited
them to a meal of pork, sausages, beer, and bread. Two young men
cut pork, blood sausages, tsamba sausages, liver, and pigskins into
pieces. These would be given to families in our tribe, family friends,
and relatives.
Mother cooked a big pot of congee for children in our tribe,
who came and took shalkal34 after the butchers left. Cousin cooked
pork and blood sausages, and put them on three plates for the
butchers. The butchers ate them while drinking beer and chatting.
The golden sun had already set behind the west mountain by the time
they left for home.
Blood sausage, tsamba sausage, liver, and pigskin are offered when they
come to eat the congee.
•119•
34
28
CONCLUSION
n 2008, five years after I started learning English, I graduated
I
from Qinghai Normal University. With the ETP teachers'
encouragement and assistance, a few of my classmates had
applied to foreign schools for further study. Thus inspired, I
applied to Silliman University in the Philippines, was accepted,
and then began two years of study at the MA level in Anthropology.
I was impressed with how much better the education system
is in the Philippines than in China. Most professors that I met were
highly educated, which is not the case in China. However, most
professors that I met in the Philippines were unable to speak fluent
English. To complete the requirements of my degree, I wrote a thesis
on the Matri Ritual in Leglung Community, Tewo County. This ritual
is held annually and involves participants circumambulating a Bon
monastery in a counterclockwise direction for seven days and nights
without stopping. This is made possible because participants from
different villages take turns circumambulating. Ritual participants
should not eat meat and garlic, and must abstain from sex, liquor,
and fighting.
After graduation from Silliman University, I will return, find
a job in the local government, and try to meet the expectations of
those who have loved, helped, and encouraged me when I was
struggling. At the same time, if I can, I will strive to preserve Tibetan
cultural heritage, conserve the local environment and natural
resources, and improve local education.
•120•
PHOTOGRAPHS
•121•
Photograph One. Gonchok Shira (b. 1977) and Tudan Gamtso (b. 1971)
with local children on the Donwa grassland, June 2011
(Dorjee Tsedan).
Photograph Two. A representative of each Zhagana household in four
Zhagana villages participated in the Mani Ritual and chanted
mani in the main temple in Zhagana Monastery, June 2011
(Dorjee Tsedan).
Photograph Three. Sangey Tsering's (b. 1985) family members
harvest beans in their bean field in Donwa Village, July 2011
(Dorjee Tsedan).
Photograph Four. Drega (b. 1984), his wife (Lhamo Drolma b. 1989),
and his family helper (Gonpa Tso b. 1986) carry harvested
beans in Donwa Village as they return home for lunch, July
2011 (Dorjee Tsedan).
Photograph Five. Harvested beans on inserted-rafters in Dredze
Village, Yiwa Township, June 2011 (Dorjee Tsedan).
Photograph Six. Jeeshi Tso (b. 1949) and her grandson (Sarnang
Wangdan b. 2010) sit in a potato field in Dredze Village,
September 2011 (Dorjee Tsedan).
Photograph Seven. Sarnang Wangdan stands by his home gate in
Dredze Village, September 2011 (Dorjee Tsedan).
Photograph Eight. Yumtsering (b. 1975) leads a yellow zomo from the
winter pasture in Zhagana, December 2011 (Gonbo Jay, b.
1985).
Photograph Nine. Gadou Jay (b. 1975) and fellow villagers return
from the winter pasture in Zhagana, December 2011 (Gonbo
Jay).
Photograph Ten. Patching a churn with tsamba before churning milk
in Donwa Village, Yiwa Township, July 2011 (Dorjee Tsedan).
Photograph Eleven. Churned butter in Donwa Village, July 2011
(Dorjee Tsedan).
•122•
Photograph Twelve. Churned butter squeezed into a big chunk in
Donwa Village, Yiwa Township, July 2011 (Dorjee Tsedan).
Photograph Thirteen. Wande Tsering (b. 1945, right), Damu Tso (b.
1954, middle), and Nanjo Tso (b. 1939) chat after eating rice
congee by the main temple, December 2011 (Gonbo Jay).
Photograph Fourteen. Rako Jay (b. 1950) and two fellow Donwa
villagers ready for mani chanting in the main Zhagana temple,
December 2011 (Gonbo Jay).
Photograph Fifteen. Female villagers in Zhagana warm by the fire in
the cooking room in the monastery, December 2011 (Gonbo
Jay).
Photograph Sixteen. Pouring congee from a big pot into a metal pail
in the main Zhagana temple, December 2011 (Gonbo Jay).
Photograph Seventeen. Rice congee is ladled into a metal pail in the
kitchen in Zhagana, December 2011 (Gonbo Jay).
Photograph Eighteen. Jaman (b. 1975) and fellow Yeri villagers circle
the mani temple in Zhagana, December 2011 in December
2011 (Gonbo Jay).
Photograph Nineteen. Achel (b. 1973) circumambulates the mani
temple, Donwa Village, December 2011 (Gonbo Jay)
Photograph Twenty. Donwa Mani Temple, the place where locals
could hold such religious activities as chanting mani and
fasting, December 2011 (Gonbo Jay).
Photograph Twenty-one. A watermill grinds roasted barley into flour,
Donwa Village, July 2011 (Dorjee Tsedan).
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NON-ENGLISH TERMS
A
Achel, a chos ཨ་ཆོས།
Agon, a mgon ཨ་མགོན།
Agung, a dkon ཨ་དཀོན།
Akhu Nyima, a khu nyi ma ཨ་#་ཉི་མ།
Amdo, a mdo ཨ་མདོ།
Anebudze, a myes bu rgyud ཨ་#ེས་&་'ད།
Apo, a spo ཨ་#ོ།
B
Wande Tar, ban de thar བན་དེ་ཐར།
Banma Jap, pad ma skyabs པད་མ་%བས།
Bon, bon བོན།
Bonbo, dpon po དཔོན་པོ།
Bugang, 'bur sgang འ"ར་%ང་།
Buntso, phun tshogs !ན་ཚ%གས།
D
Damu Tso, stag mo 'tsho !ག་མོ་འཚ(།
Dantsering, rtam tshe ring !མ་ཚ%་རིང་།
Dawa, zla ba !་བ།
debi ngosrung !ེ་བའི་'ོ་)ང་།
Donwa, gdong ba གདོང་བ།
Donwa Mani, gdong ba ma Ni གདོང་བ་མ་ཎི།
Dordor, rdo rdo !ོ་!ོ།
Dorine, rdor gnas !ོ་གནས།, Duoni 夺尼 Township
Dorjee Man, rdo rje sman !ོ་$ེ་&ན།
•145•
Dorjee Tsedan, rdo rje tshe brtan !ོ་$ེ་ཚ'་བ)ན།
Dorjee Tso, rdo rje 'tsho !ོ་$ེ་འཚ(།
dorma, gtor ma གཏོར་མ།
Dredze, 'bru rdzi འ"་$ི།
Drega, 'brug dkar འ"ག་དཀར།
Drodza Paba, 'gro mdza' 'phags pa འ"ོ་མཛའ་འཕགས་པ།
Dzeku Ripug, mdzub gu ring phug མ!བ་$་རིང་(ག
dzeto, rdzab thab !བ་ཐབ།
G
Gadou Jay, dka' thub skyabs དཀའ་%བ་'བས།
Ganlho, kan lho ཀན་$ོ།
Gannan 甘南
Gansu 甘肃
Gesar, ge sar གེ་སར།
Gonboo Jay, mgon po skyabs མགོན་པོ་&བས།
Gonchok Shira, dkon mchog shes rab དཀོན་མཆོག་ཤེས་རབ།
Gontsa, sgang tsha !ང་ཚ།
Gonpa Tso, dgon pa mtsho དགོན་པ་མཚ)།
H
Han 汉
Hezuo 合作
Hui 回族
J
Jaman, lcags sman !གས་%ན།
Jamtso Hurtun, rgya mtsho hub 'thung !་མཚ%་&བ་འ)ང་།
Jasha Marlen, lcags sreg dmar len !གས་%ེག་དམར་ལེན།
Jeeshi Tso, 'jigs byed 'tsho འཇིགས་'ེད་འཚ+།
jin 斤
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Jokang, jo khang ཇོ་ཁང་།
Jone, co ne ཅོ་ནེ།
Jone Bonbo, co ne dpon po ཅོ་ནེ་དཔོན་པོ།
K
Kache, kha che ཁ་ཆེ།
Kailash, ke la sha ཀེ་ལ་ཤ། Gangs rin po che གངས་རིན་པོ་ཆེ།
Kanjur, bka' 'gyur བཀའ་འ$ར།
khada, kha btags ཁ་བཏགས།
King Gesar, ge sar rgyal po གེ་སར་&ལ་པོ།
L
ladze, lab rtse ལབ་$ེ།
Lama Tso, bla ma 'tsho !་མ་འཚ&།
Lanzhou 兰州
Lhasol Monastery, lha gsol dgon pa !་གསོལ་དགོན་པ།
Lhamo Jay, lha mo skyabs !་མོ་%བས།
Leglung, legs lung ལེགས་&ང་།
Lhamo Drolma, lha mo sgrol ma !་མོ་%ོལ་མ།
Lhamo Monastery, lha mo dgon pa !་མོ་དགོན་པ།
Lhasa, lha sa !་ས།
Lhatsedu ལ་ཙ$་%ར། 拉泽古
lhoda, rlung rta !ང་$།
Linxia 临夏
Losar, lo sar ལོ་སར།
Losang Tsering, blo bzang tshe ring !ོ་བཟང་ཚ(་རིང་།
Luchu, klu chu !་#།
M
Machu, rma chu !་#།
mani, ma Ni མ་ཎི།
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Matri, ma tri མ་"ི།
Milarepa, mi la ras pa མི་ལ་རས་པ།
mu 亩
N
Nangwa, rnga ba !་བ།
Nanjo Tso, rnal 'byor 'tsho !ལ་འ%ོར་འཚ)།
Nyanyul, myang yul !ང་$ལ།
O
Ojan Tsering, o rgyan tshe ring ཨོ་$ན་ཚ'་རིང་།
P
Padba Jay, 'phags pa skyabs འཕགས་པ་'བས།
Q
Qinghai 青海
R
Rako Jay, rin 'khon skyabs རིན་འཁོན་(བས།
Rin chen rdo rje རིན་ཆེན་'ོ་)ེ།
RMB 人民币
S
Sangey Tsering, sangs rgyas tshe ring སངས་$ས་ཚ&་རིང་།
Sarnang Wangdan, bsod nams dbang ldan བསོད་ནམས་དབང་)ན།
Shaza, sha rgya ཤ་#།
shala, sha lA ཤ་#།
shalkal, sha skal ཤ་#ལ།
Sichuan 四川
Songtsan Gampo, srong btsan sgam po !ོང་བཙན་(མ་པོ།
sung, bsang བསང་།
T
Taba, grags pa !གས་པ།
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Tanjur, bstan 'gyur བ"ན་འ&ར།
terang, the'u rang ཐེ#་རང་།
Tewo, the bo ཐེ་བོ།
Tobagar, thos pa dga' ཐོས་པ་དགའ།
Todsong, thab song ཐབ་སོང་།
Tonmi Sampodra, thon mi sam b+ho Ta ཐོན་མི་སམ་བྷོ་ཊ།
tsamba, rtsam pa !མ་པ།
tsasong, tsha bsang ཚ་བསང་།
Tsekho, tshe kho ཚ"་ཁོ།
Tsering, tshe ring ཚ"་རིང་།
Tso, gtsos གཙ#ས།
Tsongru ཚ"ང་%& 寸日
Tudan Gamtso, thub bstan rgya mtsho !བ་བ$ན་&་མཚ)།
W
Wande Tsering, ban+de tshe ring བ"ྡེ་ཚ'་རིང་།
White-Dragon River, 'brug dkar gtsang po འ"ག་དཀར་གཙང་པོ།
X
Xinjiang 新疆
Y
Yalongtsangpo, yar klung gtsang po ཡར་$ང་གཙང་པོ།
Yeri, nyag ru ཉག་$%
Yiwa, g.yi ba གཡི་བ།
yuan 元
Yumtso, yum 'tsho !མ་འཚ&།
Yumtsering, yum tshe ring !མ་ཚ%་རིང་།
Yunnan 云南
Z
Zebatso, btsun pa 'tsho བ"ན་པ་འཚ(།
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Zhagana, brag sgam nang !ག་$མ་ནང་།
Zhogartsejee, 'brong rgod rtse brgyad འ"ོང་&ོད་(ེ་བ+ད།
Ziling, zi ling ཟི་ལིང་།
zomo, mdzo mo མཛ"་མོ།
Zorgay, mdzod dge མཛ#ད་དགེ
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