Portrait of an LBX

By Evan

黃昏我站在高高的山岡
At dusk I stand on a tall mountain
看那鐵路修到我家鄉
And see the railroad that has been built to my homeland
一條條巨龍翻山越嶺
Huge dragon after huge dragon cross the mountains
為雪域高原送來安康
Bringing peace and health to the snowy plateau
那是一條神奇的天路哎
It is a miraculous heavenly road
把人間的溫暖送到邊疆
Bringing the warmth of the human world to the frontier
從此山不再高路不再漫長
From now on, the mountains are no longer high, and the road is no longer endless
各族兒女歡聚一堂
The sons and daughters of every race joyously assemble under the same roof

The plateau, a place not easily forgotten, by Andy

The preceding is an excerpt from the song Heavenly Road (天路), a song sung in Chinese set to Tibetan style music about the Beijing-Lhasa railway. It is likely the current most popular propaganda song in China (by far surpassing Dao Lang’s “Salaam Chairman Mao”), and also the single song I hate most in the world. I hate it so because unfortunately I used to be pretty into it, owing to the frequency with which I heard it, until the one day I bothered to pay attention to the lyrics, which I’ve pasted in totality at the bottom of this post for the curious. Aside from the fact that it’s hilariously ridiculous to think that prop-pop is actually an acceptable art form in China, the song’s popularity highlights the attitudes most Chinese have toward Tibetans: that they are griping benefactors of the goodness of the Han. I’ll go into this topic in depth in the post that continues this one.

Aside the hundreds of times I’ve heard the first lines of this song as a ring tone on this trip, I was graced to hear a group of vacationing cyclists from Liaoning wearing matching red long spandex uniforms singing it boisterously within eyesight of the miraculous railroad on the northern bank of Lake Qinghai. Beside the fact that these were some real chumps (like most of the vacationers making a circuit of the lake), their shameless rendition reminded me that we were on our way out of traditional Tibet and headed back into the hard world of Northern China.

The chorus of cretiny, by Evan

If the song wasn’t enough, the next few days revealed layer by layer that we were leaving our dreamy time up on the plateau. First there were the highways clogged with miserable trucks and dust. Then there were trees and corn again. Two nights after leaving the lake, there were prostitutes under my hotel again, for the first time since Sichuan. Then the ride into Xining, a giant concrete shithole exuding all the allures of scientific development, finally shook us completely from our revery. They always say you have to leave something before you can appreciate it, and now that we’re in the middle of the clusterfuck that is northern China, our time on the plateau seems all the more brilliant.

No, it’s not just the glorious landscapes or refreshingly clean air (as I’ve said before, it’s insane that this should even need to be mentioned), that made us love the place, although it helped. It’s definitely not the cuisine, because God knows we couldn’t have taken too much more yak noodles, zamba (barley and yak butter), or yoghurt. It’s certainly not all the people there either, since frankly toward the end I was itching for a little personal space at last. But it is the special people and their personalities and the stories of their struggle that make the place and our time there mean so much to us. I’d like to share just a few here.

A few weeks ago in a small town surrounded by soaring mountains, Andy and I were unexpectedly invited into a Tibetan home by a man on a roof screaming, “come sit down and have a rest!” Ordinarily a request so worded would indicate that the potential host was a twit, but his accent was so spot on that we had to see what was up with this guy. A quick walk around to the gate of his courtyard, and a young man in a grey bowling hat opened the gate to his courtyard to us and led us past his family and to a second floor sitting room behind a picture window with a view onto the endless prairie.

Our host, named Dorgye, laid out snacks and milk tea and then started telling us his story, in nearly flawless English. It turned out that at the age of 17, he and four other men from his town had set out toward Nepal on an escape run — on foot. Over the month it took to reach the border, the group had swelled to 29 Tibetan men, often without ample water or food. Finally they reached Kathmandu and the Tibetan Welcome Center, which dispatched them forthwith to Daram Sala in India and the Dalai Lama’s education centers of the Tibetan government in exile.

Dorgye in disguise, by Andy

Dorgye there spent three years of study, mostly focusing on English — all for free. He could have stayed on there forever, but he so missed his mother, father, older brother and older sister that he reentered China, against his mother’s orders to stay where he could be free. He was fined for his malfeasance, but at that relatively politically stable time, he was allowed to find work. So Dorgye became a translator in a local dairy enterprise, and earned a fortune — by the standards of his yak herding family. So he bought himself a car and some nice clothes, and his family a brand new home of his own design, small and without many amenities, but what you might call nomad chic.

Life was rolling along ok until 2008 and the protests started up. Once he heard from a friend in the local monastery that the monks would march in protest following the example of their compatriots in Lhasa, our proud and pertinacious friend ran to join them in pumping his fists and screaming for the Dalai Lama. He had expected to be killed for his actions, but it didn’t matter so much. “It was my only chance to say what I felt, to be a man,” he told us. Immediately afterward, his mother ordered him to go into hiding and not to come back until everything was forgotten. So he flew into hiding among the mountains, and lived off the generosity of fellow Tibetans, who all supported him unquestioningly, for four months. However, he eventually realized they’d never forget and that life on the lam meant separation from his dearest family. So he turned himself in.

Since he had illegally escaped to India (his words… I don’t believe there are many legal escapes to India), and was generally flippant toward the Han police, whom he hates with a burning fire (really he hates all Han), the local commissariat deemed him the “instigator (罪魁禍首),” even though he had just followed behind some monk friends. The sentence was two years in prison (yes, for a nonviolent protest), which was mitigated after a year to long-term limited house arrest due to a heart condition that almost killed him in prison. For the past year, he’s had to stay within close watch of the police, and has spent most of his time fixing up his family’s house. That’s when we met him.

After a hell of a lot of talking and milk tea, he said we should meet his uncle, the abbot at the local monastery. We agreed, and he drove us down to the picturesque bluff-set monastery, rebuilt, like most things of religious significance in this country, thirty years ago. Thanks, Mao! Dorgye led us into the house of the abbot and sat us down sitting Indian style before the short table, which he set with fresh yak dumplings and more milk tea. Presently the good abbot, Rinchen, appeared himself and conversed with us in his excellent Mandarin.

A friendly yak herder who fed us lunch, by Andy

Rinchen was in his fifties, bald, donning the deep maroon garb of a monk, and smiled every bit as effusively as the Dalai Lama himself. First he tried to explain his religion to us — the 3000 different coexisting worlds, the levels one arrives at before nirvana, the loopholes allowing monks to eat meat (these are funny, but I won’t get into it here), etc. He further explained the difference between the various Tibetan monastics, which had been falsely conveyed by several Han previously. There are regular monks (和尚), like Rinchen, who choose to leave their families (出家) to join the order. They can advance through levels and even serve as abbot (掌經師), but they cannot serve in the highest capacities. Above monks there are Huofos (活佛), “living Buddhas,” and Lamas (喇嘛). These positions are filled by children who are reincarnations of a previous Huofo or Lama, something that monastics authenticate.

Eventually Andy asked if the government ever forced any “patriotic education (愛國教育)” on the monastery, to which poor old Rinchen replied “YES,” nodding his head fervently. The government types come through frequently to hold lectures and make the monks sign documents criticizing the Dalai Lama. I asked if the DL would forgive them for this, to which Rinchen made a sound and a face to indicate that I had asked the stupidest question in the world. “Not only can he forgive us,” said the monk, “but he is the one who told us to comply!” The DL, he said, has issued universal orders to do whatever it takes to preserve the peace, and has even stopped issuing pictures of himself to people he knows will bring them back to China, for fear of government retribution upon his subjects.

Rinchen then spent a long time explaining how bad things were. Monks under the age of 18 have to be regularly hidden when the G-men come through. Only a certain number of men are allowed to study at one time in the monastery, and so the extras too have to be regularly hidden. At least now it’s better than back in the cultural Revolution, said Rinchen. At that time, monks were forced to return to lay life (還庶), and apparently were forced to sleep with women, who would spy on their activities. Texts that were not carefully buried or otherwise hidden by cautious Tibetans were destroyed en masse, like the monasteries themselves. The communists did their damnedest to wipe out the whole religion, but much to Beijing’s chagrin, it has regrown with gusto since reform and opening, said Rinchen.

A group of monks practicing philosophical discourse, by Andy

Right in the middle of his lengthy explanations, we were interrupted by a knock at the door. Andy and I withdrew into the corner to observe the audience that followed. Four dark faced Tibetan men entered in an air of reverence. Their spokesman, a rather fat guy in his forties, placed a white sash in front of Rinchen and began to speak in Tibetan. The tone in his voice, and the somber faces of his fellows, made Andy and me both think that something terrible had happened in the community — stolen yaks, a girl knocked up, a killing even — and that they had come to beg advice from a wise man. After ten minutes from the spokesman and a two minute response from Rinchen, the men’s faces washed over in relief, and they took their leave.

Have they come to ask for advice, I asked. “No,” replied Rinchen, “they believe they have identified a Huofo in a young child of their family and want somebody to go investigate, which I promised I would do soon.” With that over, we continued our conversation with Rinchen, which became slowly more and more depressing as he laid out the hard road they have to walk, which has become significantly harder since the 2008 protests, in which Rinchen refused to participate. As his promotion to abbot required ratification by the local government, he probably made the right decision. Worst of all, said Rinchen, was the uncertainty the future brought for the leadership of their community. When the Dalai Lama (Rinchen always made a reverent sign above his head when mentioning the DL’s name), passed away, there would be turmoil. As we already knew, the Panchen Lama, number two in the Tibetan hierarchy, became the world’s youngest political prisoner immediately after his identification, and has not been since seen. The DL, realizing his political predicament, has declared that his successor will be chosen from within Tibet (he means Tibet controlled by China) if the people want that, or from outside Tibet (presumably Daram Sala with it’s million strong Tibetan population) if the people want that. How the “people” will have a say in this, Rinchen was unable to answer, but he admitted that the DL’s death will be a major turning point for the Tibetan people. Dorgye in fact later told us that the reason the Tibetans have not emulated their comrades in misery, the Uyghurs (whom he said most Tibetans admire for their backbone), in violence is that the Dalai Lama has restrained them from so doing. Once the Dalai Lama is gone, said Dorgye, it will be very difficult to persuade angry Tibetan youth to continue turning the other cheek.

Finally I asked of Rinchen if he thought there was any hope for the Tibetan cause. He looked down at his table somberly and did not respond. A minute of silence passed, in which I wondered if I had asked the wrong question. Finally he looked up sadly and said in a low tone, “maybe (可能).”

Right about this time, another monk came in to talk to Rinchen, and it was time for us to excuse ourselves. Despite the melancholy nature of our conversation, Rinchen was still beaming at us with his huge smile. He fetched two sashes of white cloth and presented them to us with great ceremony. Explaining that they are called Khataghs (哈達), he wrapped them around our necks and bade us return as often as we can, since it’s unlikely he’ll ever be coming to see us.

…TO BE CONTINUED (Since I have a lot more to say on the subject of Tibetans and stories to relate, and this is already too long). FYI, we’re currently in northern Gansu proceeding across the desert through landscapes that look like scenes from Hero (英雄). We’ll be in Ningxia later today. Greetings to be changed from Zhashidele to Salaam. Stay tuned.

All lyrics of Heavenly Road (Evan translated):

清晨我站在青青的牧場
At dawn I stand on a lush green pastureland
看到神鷹披著那霞光
Watching an eagle draped in the rays of dawn light
像一片祥雲飛過藍天
He’s like a stretch of propitious clouds flying across the blue sky
為藏家兒女帶來吉祥
Bringing auspiciousness for the sons and daughters of the Tibetans
黃昏我站在高高的山岡
At dusk I stand on a tall ridge
看那鐵路修到我家鄉
And see the railroad that has been built to my homeland
一條條巨龍翻山越嶺
Huge dragon after huge dragon cross the mountains
為雪域高原送來安康
Bringing peace and health to the snowy plateau
那是一條神奇的天路哎
It is a miraculous heavenly road
把人間的溫暖送到邊疆
Bringing the warmth of the human world to the frontier
從此山不再高路不再漫長
From now on, the mountains are no longer high, and the road is no longer endless
各族兒女歡聚一堂
The sons and daughters of every race joyously assemble under the same roof
黃昏我站在高高的山岡
At dusk I stand on a tall ridge
看那鐵路修到我家鄉
And see the railroad that has been built to my homeland
一條條巨龍翻山越嶺
Huge dragon after huge dragon cross the mountains
為雪域高原送來安康
Bringing peace and health to the snowy plateau
那是一條神奇的天路哎
It is a miraculous heavenly road
帶我們走進人間天堂
Bringing us to heaven on earth
青稞酒酥油茶會更加香甜
Barley wine and yak butter tea taste even more delicious
幸福的歌聲傳遍四方
The song of happiness is sung across the world
那是一條神奇的天路哎
It is a miraculous heavenly road
帶我們走進人間天堂
Bringing us to heaven on earth
青稞酒酥油茶會更加香甜
Barley wine and yak butter tea taste even more delicious
幸福的歌聲傳遍四方
The song of happiness is sung across the world
幸福的歌聲傳遍四方
The song of happiness is sung across the world