by Pema Dorje, M.D.
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Pema Dorje, M.D. |
The sun was shining from a deep blue sky on the abundant grass and late spring flowers in the huge valley of Nangchen in the eastern part of Tibet. But there was a pervading fear and anxiety in the atmosphere. The whole valley appeared to be moving as people from thousands of families traveled on horseback or on foot behind herds of yaks, many carrying heavy loads, all moving in one direction. My eldest sister stood crying after an emotional farewell on an elevated area in the valley as my parents, my other brothers, sisters and I and moved on; all crying except me.
I guess that at six years of age I did not quite understand what was happening but that occasion stands out among the faint memories of my homeland. This was the scene that I remember: parting with my eldest sister in 1957 as my parents decided to flee from the Chinese 'Liberation'. After two years of cat and mouse games with Chinese on the way our karma took us to India and freedom. The family into which my sister married decided not to attempt the uncertain escape. They survived the near-death starvation and hard labor during the Cultural Revolution. The first news of her came in 1980.
My parents died in the refugee camp soon after our arrival in India.
I and my brothers and sisters in India tried to keep in touch with my sister through letters and presents but news from her side was rare as she lives in a very remote area and did not know how to read or write.
My birthplace is Nangchen in the eastern part of Tibet. The landmass of Tibet is about the size of Western Europe in the heart of Central Asia, and is thinly populated. Since its forceful occupation by the Communist Chinese in the late 1950s, the eastern part has been split up and annexed into different Chinese provinces like Qinghai, Sichuan and Yunan, while the rest constitutes the Tibet Autonomous Region. Nangchen is now a county in the Yushu prefecture (its Tibetan name is Kyekundo) which is incorporated into the Qinghai province. Xining is the capital of the Qinghai Province. River Mekong (or Zachu in Tibetan) flows through Nangchen County.
My longing to go back to Nangchen and see my sister and other relatives was realized in May 1996. I joined Lama Norlha, director of the Tibetan Buddhist meditation center in New York, and two of his American disciples - one of them a monk. We crossed into China from Hong Kong and then flew from Guangdong to Xining after an overnight stop at Xian. Airfare for foreigners is twice that for locals. We were received by Lama's relatives at Xining. Xining is a large city teeming with millions of Chinese, many of them Muslims. Not far from the city is the famous Tibetan Kubum monastery, or what is left of it. The monastery was built on the birth site of the famous thirteenth century teacher Je Tsonkapa. His Holiness, the Dalai Lama's elder brother, was the Abbot of this monastery when the communists overran this place.
We shopped for more provisions and presents for my sisters and other relatives and left Xining for Yushu, or Kyekundo, by two rented Toyota jeeps. Each jeep came with a driver and assistant whose main job appeared to be to light cigarettes for the driver as soon as he has finished smoking one. We reached Yushu after driving for eighteen continuous hours through Amdo and Golog regions of Tibet and covering a distance of 500 miles.
The roads were dusty and bumpy, snaked up and down many mountains, the highest point we crossed was 16,100 feet. At that altitude I had a mild headache and shortness of breath after very short walks. We crossed the Yellow River and the Yangtze River, weathering one snowstorm on the way. Many nomadic families and their black tents woven from yak hair could be seen on the way. The beauty of the landscape is indescribable. As the eyes sweep from the majestic mountains to the vast valleys and plains one gets the sense of moving through three seasons-winter, spring and summer-all at the same time. The scattered sheep in the distant mountains and plains seemed to add fitting decoration to the background beauty. The sight of Tibetan nomads tending their sheep and yak herds is emotionally moving. The beauty of the land is in sharp contrast to the harsh living conditions in these regions. Children are themselves shepherds or help their parents look after the herds. For the majority of these children in the nomadic areas even the most basic educational facility appeared to be lacking.
We reached the bustling town of Kyekundo and spent one day recovering from the long journey. It seems the remoteness of the region has protected its Tibetan population from invasion. Empowerment of the local people through increased population and improved education and economy will give them a better chance of fighting off marginalization by the Chinese. But sadly this is going to be slow in coming to this region. The town has one Chinese hospital and another hospital that dispenses traditional medicine. The Tibetan hospital is a fairly big structure with plans for an inpatient facility, it has an impressive pharmacy and treats lots of patients. But the building is in a bad state of repair from lack of funds. It turns out that the chief medical officer is related to me.
In the towns, unsightly and stinking latrines seem to strike you with unusual force in the rarified atmosphere. In the nomadic area there are no latrines: you take a walk into the open area and study the wind direction before relieving yourself.
The journey from Kyekundo to Nangchen took five hours and we stopped at the Korche monastery where my brother was a monk before the Chinese invasion. This monastery was completely destroyed during the Cultural Revolution but has been rebuilt by Lama Norlha during the last ten years. One of the elderly monks in the monastery knew my family and brother. He volunteered to take me to my sister's home. By the time we reached her home it was close to midnight and she had no idea that I was coming. We stopped our jeep some distance from her house and called out to announce the arrival of one her brothers. Driving all the way to her house in the middle of the night could have scared them in the aftermath of the Cultural Revolution. When I told her that I am her youngest brother she instantly called out my name and cried for a long time. Her son and daughters came and hugged me and joined in the very emotional reunion. At 64 years of age she looks old and weather beaten but is remarkably healthy and active. Their way of life, dress and means of earning their livelihood has not changed during the last 40 years. Living as nomads with no field for cultivation, they live in one place except for a short time in spring when they go to higher areas to let the grass grow in the lower areas. My sister has only 20 yaks and they all looked weak in the aftermath of winter, which brought the worst snowstorm of the century.
None of their family has jobs and there are no hospitals or schools within reach. It is a four-hour trip on horseback to buy the most basic supplies. My sister has one son and three daughters who all have family and live in the same area. A small stream runs close to my sister's house where I bathed during the day, helped by very excited children who themselves could not be persuaded to bathe. A passing jeep on the other side of the valley must have been surprised to see a nomad taking a bath.
I had only seven days to spend with my sister. She thought that she was dreaming for the first three days and by the time she realized it was for real, it was time for me to leave. I met only a few of my relatives, many of them for very brief periods because of limited time and the difficulty of getting from one place to another. Most of my maternal uncles were rounded up and taken away to prison at the beginning of the cultural revolution and they have never been seen again-presumed dead from forced labor, torture and starvation.
Whenever anyone found out that I am a doctor they came with extended hands for a check up. But, unfortunately, I could not diagnose their ailments by merely feeling their pulse like the Tibetan Doctors trained in the traditional medicine. I did see two very sick patients; an elderly monk diagnosed with clinical pulmonary tuberculosis (TB) and a young man who had abdominal TB. Anti-TB medicines I sent to them after returning from Tibet arrived too late for the elderly monk but the young man is on his way to a full recovery, according to information received later.
In summer, the Tibetans spread out into the high mountains to collect the Chinese caterpillar fungus. After grazing on this fungus Yaks are said to become extra energetic. Chinese athletes who broke several world records are reported to have been on a diet regime that contained this fungus. Whatever may be the truth behind these claims, there is no doubt about the widespread popularity of this mysterious fungus-insect combination is a tonic and cure for ailments. Eight of these fetch a dollar and each person may earn the equivalent of three to twelve dollars a day-a valuable source of cash income for the cash-starved nomads.
Another delicacy, Tibetan yak-butter tea, is made by churning tea leaves with butter, milk and salt. It is a relishing drink in cold places of Tibet. Another favorite drink is chang, an alcoholic drink fermented from barley. Barley is the staple diet, while fruit and vegetable consumption in these nomadic areas is low. How about adding some fungus in these drinks? Turnip is the main vegetable cultivated in these high altitude areas.
The whole of eastern Tibet has been affected by the century's worst snowstorm which wiped out over 60% of the yak herd. Luckily and surprisingly, there was no loss of human life but the people of the region will take many years to recover from the economic effect. Tibetan Development Fund and Doctors Without Borders are two aid agencies on site distributing grain, oil and blankets and they are studying ways of helping to rebuild the yak population. I met the Belgian section of the Doctors Without Borders and the aid agents are allowed to go to the field to study the problem and distribute aid directly.
One of the saddest parts of the situation in Tibet is that none of the children in these nomadic areas have access to any form of education. This and economic hardship makes them susceptible for further exploitation and marginalization. Lama Norlha and I have made the beginnings of a school project. The land for school projects is free and construction of the school building constitutes the major part of the expenditure. The running of the school is again relatively cheap because the salary for teachers is small. The school under construction is located on the bank of river Zachu and serves six villages on either side of the river. There are many clusters of villages that need schools.
I look forward to my next trip, which is likely to be in the spring of 1998. By this time our school may be operating. Lama Norlha is hoping to go next year as well to check on its progress.