Friday, October 23, 2009

21st Century Dharma

25 September – Long Beach, California

Buddhist monks from the United States, Vietnam, India, China, and Tibet sat on stage with His Holiness the Dalai Lama, facing him were approximately 10,000 Buddhists and non-Buddhist, believers and non believers, men woman and children, from all over the world. Making his opening remarks for the two day teaching His Holiness the Dalai Lama made sure to point out that those in attendance would be able to follow along in four languages. His Holiness spoke in English about various religious beliefs and how the purpose of the various traditions is to give humans conviction, love, and compassion.

A Vietnamese-American woman sat on the upper balcony of the Long Beach Convention Center with her two parents, this was her first time to see His Holiness the Dalai Lama; she ordered these tickets at the end of May. They will attend the two days of teachings before driving six hours back to Arizona. "My parents saw him once before, ten years ago, but I was in school then, I am excited to see him now." The three listen to the teachings in Vietnamese through FM radios.

His Holiness said, "now especially is the time for mutual understanding and respect, so therefore some knowledge is useful; 21st century Buddhists must be full of knowledge." The modern crowd that he addresses includes a large number of Vietnamese buddhists.

Vietnam has been a communist state for 79 years, the government ousted religion. Still, there are six million practicing Buddhists in Vietnam. His Holiness said "Although Vietnam is outwardly Communist I know that inwardly, it is Buddhist; even in China is like that now, military personal outwardly are genuine Communist. But deep down they have mobile phones, and some high officials have my picture there."

Inside Tibet even a simple photo of His Holiness the Dalai Lama is considered contraband, under the Chinese rule. Reporter for the Tibet Post asked His Holiness, "What will your next course of action be since you have said that your faith in the Chinese government has gotten thinner and thinner." His Holiness said "I don't know." He also said that in the meantime he has never lost faith in the Chinese people.

21st century Buddhism is transmitted over the air waves, throughout convention center halls, websites, and sometimes mobile phones, but in His Holiness the Dalai Lama's own country, prayer is the only means. He said, "there are many sincere Buddhists, and it is my responsibility to serve them as much as i can but the political situation for the time being is difficult almost impossible, so the only thing is to pray."

The teachings are being held at the Long Beach convention center from September 25-26. Friday there are two sessions each lasting two hours. The morning session considered The Four Noble Truths, the afternoon teaching is about Amitabha Permission Initiaton and Saturdays teaching is on Medicine Buddha. All the tickets were sold by the 17th of July. The Geden Shoeling Center is hosting center organized and staffed the event.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Monday, June 29, 2009

going home again



In the bottom of mail trucks there are large crates that the border police don’t check. Laying flat on his stomach below the mail, Sonam returned to his homeland Tibet. He went to see his family, and to act as a guide and smuggle individuals threatened by the Chinese government out of Tibet.

Last March the streets of the Tibetan capital Lhasa erupted into violence. The date marked the anniversary of the beginning of China’s occupation of Tibet in 1959. Now, the date marks the beginning of one of the most brutal periods in Tibet history, turning the roof of the world into what His Holiness the Dalai Lama has described as “hell on earth.”

On March 11 2008 Sonam tied a T-shirt over his face so that he was unrecognizable, he said, “I burned cars and broke windows I shouted slogans.” He was arrested; to get him out of jail Sonam’s friends gave a false alibi to the authorities, swearing that he was at home with them. Using knowledge he gained working as a tourist guide he was able to escape from his homeland and the Chinese authorities that hunted him. The other people that were arrested with him are still in prison.

In years past between 2,000 and 3,000 Tibetans made the dangerous crossing into Nepal to seek refuge in India where His Holiness the Dalai Lama has been residing since 1959. Since last March that number has decreased to a fraction; each month only 13 people arrive from Tibet.

Rikden a young man from Eastern Tibet, arrived in India before March 2008 and lived in the new arrival center in Dharamshala for two months, he said “when I arrived at the reception center everything was full there were people everywhere you couldn’t even go to the bathroom in the night without stepping on people. If you go there now you can see it is empty.”

Sonam said “I only brought four people, the situation is so bad since last March so I didn’t bring more, guides used to bring 20 or 30 sometimes even more than that.”

The four men that Sonam guided across the border are monks who had returned to Tibet to visit their families and had been unable to come back to India after the crackdown in March 2008. He said, “I did it for free because I brought my friends but other guides charge around 10,000 Yuan.”

“In Lhasa I have a lot of friends who took part in the uprising last March, they want to come to India but they can’t escape,” he continued. “I am scared to try again, I have friends in Nepal and friends in Tibet but the situation is so bad that I don’t know if I want to try again, it is too dangerous.”

an Indian summer







Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Shoe shine?

There is no town, temple, city, or street in India that does not have people begging for money on the fringes. There is a group of 12 year olds who work the streets in Dharamshala we have a daily routine worked out. They hold out their hand for money and ask “please madam” I take one of their cupped hands and say, “I would rather you went to school,” they laugh. Then Soraj remembers he has his shoe shine kit, looks down at my feet in earnest and tells me I need a shoe shine. I reply “Soraj I am wearing flip-flops.” He laughs and pretends to clean off my feet anyway, a big joke.

It is a small exchange that I am sure occurs across the sub continent, this is a poor country, and life is difficult—but India is not without a sense of humor.

Friday, June 19, 2009

momo mama



The sun sets around 6:30, as the sun takes a parting glance before it disappears under the Himalayas Sonam Lhamo’s sits on the steps of the small temple in Dharamshala, she was here well before sunrise and will remain here for another two hours. She said that the location of her momo stand is “not good,” ideally she would like to set up her stand at the bus stop or in front the main temple, but she has only been selling momos in Dharamshala for one month and is therefore allocated to these steps. “I carry the momos here early in the morning and I sit here all day.”

Her booth looks like all the other momo booths in town, her receipt is the same, and her prices match the others. Sonam Lhamo said “I sell momos because I can’t find another job.”

She said “The money I make is just enough to pay for my medicine and to pay my rent. I have a kid, and I only have one kidney. I go to the hospital weekly to get medicine, the doctor tells me that I need to go to southern India to have an operation, but I can’t afford that.”

Sonam Lhamo arrived from Tibet 8 years ago “ When I first got here I went to Tibetan Transit School (TTS) to try to study but it didn’t work because I had never been to school before in Tibet, I didn’t know anything so I quit school.”

She did not quit school before she met her baby’s father who she called “a big cheat,” she insisted that they are not married. She said “he told me he didn’t have a girlfriend and didn’t have a wife so I went with him and I got pregnant. After I gave birth his wife and his kids came from Tibet.”

Tibetan and international NGOs do not help her. The only help that she receives from the Tibetan Government is tuition free education for her child, a service provided to all in the Tibetan Community. She gets up at midnight t to make momos 7 days a week, she doesn’t have the luxury to make plans with friends or plans for the future, she said “I am so poor, and my health is so poor that I am just trying to fix problems, I have no future plans for my daughter I only hope that TCV takes care of her.”

Monday, June 8, 2009

Official speeches, formalities, underscore the importance of community, huge crowds and competitive football matches demonstrate the unity within the Tibetan exile community and between India that has hosted Tibetans for 50 years. The 10 day Gaylyum Chemo Memorial Gold Cup commenced with an expedition match between Tibetan Children’s Village (TCV); "TCV united" and Himachal Pradesh (HP) police department. His Eminence Gyalwa Karmapa was the chief guest at the event, addressed the crowd of thousands gathered to watch the match “now Tibetan youth are facing difficulties in life, education and in work, in this tournament they have an opportunity to be free of these obstacles; freedom from these difficulties, if even for an afternoon is healthy and productive.”

The Tibetan National Sports Association (TNSA) organized an exhibition match between H.P police department “to show our gratitude to the government and people of India as Tibet experiences 50 years in Exile” an official press release said.

Before Chinese occupation in the 1950s in Lhasa, there were frequent matches between the teams and the Chinese military. These matches were popular events in Lhasa, the Tibetan capital city. The first tournament was organized in 1981 in memory of the late Great Mother of His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Since then it has been known as the Gyalyum Chenmo Memorial (GCM) Gold Cup the most popular tournament in the Tibetan exile community.

This year 275 players representing 19 football clubs from Tibetan settlements across India and Nepal will compete. The executive secretary of Tibetan National Sport organization, Kalsang Dhondhup made the opening remarks, “through this game Tibetans from across India will come to know each other, experiencing new adventures.”

His Eminence Gyalwa Karmapa admitted that as a monk he knows little about football, but he is dedicated to his people, his religion and Tibet issue. He said, “Lots of people have gathered here for the tournament indicating their interest and there is a strong sense of unity and cheerfulness, I do believe this football tournament is not just entertainment it has significant purpose. Here we can see the strength of the community united behind a single interest. The Tibet issue can not be solved by individuals, but by a united community like we can witness here this afternoon. Every Tibetan must put priority on the Tibetan cause.”

Wednesday, June 3, 2009





Mom sent Levi's and ray-bans it was a very exciting evening.

Monday, June 1, 2009

I feel that it is acceptable 5 months in to make a list of 5 things that I miss. Aside from the obvious friends family, and Titan, here they are in no specific order.
1. I miss walking on flat roads
2. The ocean and seagulls
3. Wine and cheese
4. Bathtubs
5. Going barefoot

And a list of my favorite things about Dharamshala, again no specific order
1. The monks that chant next door in the evening
2. Pink mountains at sunset
3. “Chitty chats” with my roommates
4. Rushing places by motorcycle
5. Drinking lassi’s guilt free because walking through town = mountain climbing

Yak butter, Indian streakers, and impending monsoons




It has been a long time… Timmy came to Dharamshala and we went on a 2 week wild adventure to the hinterlands (within walking distance of Tibet boarder), travel permits and nerves of steel were required gear for the region that boasts "one of the most sparsely populated regions on earth." Like being in "real Tibet" there were 1500 year old temples, yaks, and monks. Unlike "real Tibet" there was Freedom!



I brought home real yak butter home for my boys and they were so impressed, after looking for it everywhere and deciding it was not Kosher to beg some from the monks, I finally bought it from a family (Thanks Tim). It was a very delicate operation that involved at least 3 middle men, and the a crowd that smiled puzzled at the two westerners who were buying 2 KG pure yak butter.

We had a great journey, I will catch you all up some other time

Yesterday was the Tibetan football world cup, but in accordance with tradition it was as you may have expected dedicated to His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s mother who was, in her day a huge sports fan! The 15the Gyalyum Chemo Memorial Cup was attended by 3,000 people and the guest of honor His eminence Gyalwa Karmapa (some people say he will take over as spiritual leader after HHDL dies before a new DL is ready to lead). The 23 year old Karmapa is, or appears to be a big grump. Luckily, I am an overzealous klutz and tripped in his path and was able capture a fleeting (although slightly mocking) smile from the holy man. And so the games began.

Perched on the hillside with my roommates we cheered for the Dharamshala team, “Tibetan Children’s Village”, who were pitted a bit unfairly against the local police department. The game was temporarily interrupted by cows who found their way onto the pitch. This I thought was streaking, India style. We chatted, drank juice boxes, (a Dharamshala staple that I am thrilled have been reintroduced since the days of lunchboxes) and enjoyed a great Sunday afternoon.

Work it seems is never ending but I like that. The monsoons are coming every afternoon there is thunder and lightning that usually knocks out power for an hour or so, frustrating but still thrilling.

Oh, I officially accepted my Peace Corps assignment looks like Amman in Oct! Oh boy

Love from the Himalayas
Rah

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Buddha Darma and fresh orange juice


Peak café was not considered as an option because, Yarphel explains, “if you call your place Peak Café it is like you are above all the other places in town and they will feel badly,” other ideas are proposed “yak café, yak coffee, goat tea shop” none of these names were appealing, owners Yarphel and Tashi decided to call their new shop “Rose Café.” Tashi said, “yeah it is a little too romantic for two guys, but the sound is nice.” With that Rose Café was painted on the side of the building and above the door, and Dharamshala had a new restaurant.

There are approximately 145,150 Tibetan exiles worldwide, and 101,242 in India, there are 35 refugee settlements in India, the home department for the Tibetan Government in Exile says that the refugee settlements in India “are based either on agriculture, agribusiness or handicrafts.” Agriculture and handicraft workshops can’t fully employ the 101,242 Tibetan immigrants living in India. Of the approximately 6,000 immigrants that arrive over the Himalayas from Tibet each year, a majority of them are young men from Eastern Tibet, a region called Amdo.

Rose Café’s two owners are both from Amdo, the eastern region of Tibet. “Amdo boys have a reputation,” Tenzin Tseyang said, “they are here, without their families, they are single, and they have free time, when something happens in Dharamshala they are usually involved.”

Tashi’s mother in Tibet is aware of the realities facing her son in exile, when he called his mother in Tibet to tell her that he opened a café in Dharamshala, “my mom was shocked since I didn’t even tell her that I had left school,” he said “she asked me if I had stolen the money or if I was involved in bad business, when I reassured her that I had honestly earned the money, then she said ‘well then good’ and she was very happy.”

Rose café is a meeting place for Yarphel and Tashi’s friends who order Amdo tea, (tea boiled in milk) and talk about their plans for the future. Jamyang, a young man also from Amdo, says “this is a big success for my friends, they have been very lucky to open this café; it is not easy here for guys like us.”

They have tried for a long time to rent space for a café but it was difficult to find a landlord who would rent to them, “I think this must be the sixth or seventh place we seriously considered, it is small and off the street, but at least we have it.” Tashi said, and he added “I am happy, but I am not satisfied, if business improves then I will be satisfied, then I will have a life and a business here.”

Yarphel doesn’t worry about business being slow “I am just worried about my cakes, if my cakes are delicious then people will come.”

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

One Day's Notice

We were evicted from our apartment. Although the details are not necessarily important or interesting really, our moving day was an adventure. May 1 at 6am we were awake, sweeping, packing our clothes and blankets into hobo bundles, attempting to fix the curtains that “inexplicably" fell down. At 8am we made our escape, first carrying everything and our propane tank up the hill then loading it into an Indian Jones jeep. The five of us climbed on top and we were off, laughing and joking about the curtain that certainly fell down as soon as we closed the door.

We drove up the hill in our rickety jeep the boys hopped out half a dozen times to put rocks behind the back wheel so the driver could shift gears without rolling backward. Ridding on top of the propane tank through the morning air I was surprised when a European man took a picture of us, then I looked around at my roommates, our jeep full of blankets, prayer flags, pots, and our rice cooker, and I understood his perspective, we are an unlikely—if not motley crew.

Our new house is wonderful, very homey, and I am happy to live in town and not have the ever present danger of falling down the stairs/hill while carrying the groceries. Last night when Rikden and I were cooking dinner the monks at the monastery next door were debating I the courtyard clapping their hands as they made their points. In the morning and the afternoon they chant prayers in the room just outside our window. HHDL’s residence is 500m from our front door and we can see his windows from our courtyard. Daily there are moments, like the European snapping our photo, or the monks chanting that wakes me up in the morning, when I am reminded how special it is to live in D/shala.

love from the Himalayas
rah





Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Just back from a fab. vacation with Mom and Dad. I promise there are tales of intrigue and danger (averted danger but still)to come... Hugs and kisses to Mom and Dad for coming to India and being such great troopers and momo makers!

Home for now and so happy

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Thank You India



When I began working here I decided that I would not feel embarrassed when I make huge blunders- and find myself verbally incapable of asking the right/appropriate questions. I gleefully report that while I have made a fool of myself working here I have done so with pride and the conviction that I am learning. Bolstered by my novice status, and simultaneously weighed down by the voluminous Lonely Planet INDIA, I agreed to make the 14 hour red-eye bus ride to Delhi to report on the Thank You India activities.

March 31 marked the 50th anniversary of His Holinesses arrival in India. To commemorate the event he undertook a pilgrimage to 8 holy sights belonging to various religious traditions through Delhi. There was a small window of time between his visit to each sight, and although this is India and things typically don’t happen on time, I have learned that HHDL keeps a very punctual schedule. So, I resolved myself to the fact that because I would be traveling to each of the venues by auto-rickshaw (all the other journalists have PRESS cars with lights flashing and efficient drivers) I would make it to every other venue. As I was leaving the first venue and gearing up for the ever- enthralling auto-rickshaw ride a journalist asked me if I had the address of the next event--- I did, I had an overly official press release in my hand (and I had mapped all the sights the day before) he asked if I wanted to share a ride with him. For the remainder of the morning we tailed hhdl all over Delhi and it was absolutely the best way to see the city, zooming here and there yelling things like follow that BUS!

We were the only two crazys who made it to all the sights, honking and laughing we made our way through the city. All the while I was thinking India must be the very best place to learn journalism survival skills, here there is no such thing as a definitive answer or start time, this is a country where space invasion is a national past time, and a place where overreacting is a rule. The “India” factor coupled with the realities of being, what I like to call a “camera jockey” have really got me jazzed about my work.

Anyway, later the same afternoon there was a PC and, as my boss has taught me, I arrived ridiculously early (before all the chairs are set up) and sat in the front row center. When HHDL arrived I was no more than 5 feet from him. As he was standing to go he walked to the edge of the stage and put out his hand, stunned the only thing I could think was---MUST NOT leave HHDL hanging! So I shook his hand and he said thank you for coming, today.

From there I jammed to the final destination, the “MAJOR” event of the day, where hhdl addressed India’s bigwigs. I took some photos, recorded some statements ,then I was gone, into the Delhi darkness to catch my bus home to the Himalayas. I was happy I had escaped Delhi in such fine fashion.

A wonderful 3 days.

Current score, o I don’t know but I feel like I netted a 3pointer

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Assigned seats

Very few of the daily life activities that occur in this country do so with any perceivable sense of order or premeditated intent. Imagine my surprise when buying a bus ticket for Delhi (10 hours before departure) I was late and got the last seat in the back of the bus. Truly I didn’t anticipate assigned seating on the local bus, or that anyone besides me would be buying a ticket in advance—just when I think I have the game figured out...c'est la vie, tonight at 6 pm I am headed to Delhi, on Hymachl bus, seat 31. I am packing my knitting needles--and trying not let on that I am just chick from the sticks.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

sleep, eat, work

I mashed some potatoes with a water bottle in a wok, while listening to Tibetan music, and wearing a yak hair blanket--- oh life is good. I am working on getting some more photos loaded, but aside from official work photos I have been slacking off in the photo department. When mom and dad arrive in two weeks I have promised myself I am going to turn into a gadfly shutter bug.

I have been at the office almost constantly and in the last month have had two days off, it is really crazy to be as busy as I am here considering D/shala is one of the hippy capitals of the world and “chilling” is so highly valued.

Yesterday I spent 6 hours with my roommates registering them for their English language exams in June, it really should have only taken 30 min. India is fun like that. But, we got it done finally. Now they are all studying diligently to prepare, and I am doing the best I can to teach them.
onwards and upwards
love
rah

Monday, March 23, 2009

the run down

It has been a while since I last “updated”, so I will summarize the last two weeks with bullet points.

-discovered that there is an entire “Tin Tin in Tibet” cartoon and have become completely engrossed by a comics at age 23.

-Invited to visit rural Nepal with two high Lamas, (if anyone can think of a reason why I should not jump at this opportunity right away please tell me)

-Learning to cook for my roommates, I think because they are 5 hungry guys my gastronomic experiments are more successful.

-Sent on my first “special assignment” i.e. hopped three busses and a cab to a Tibetan settlement 50km south of here to meet/interview Robert Thurman. On the way I learned several valuable lessons. 1. Knitting nettles come in handy for things other than knit goods, an older Indian women setting next to me on the bus used them to ward off interloping (intergroping) guys, when I caught on to what she was doing she thought it was hilariously funny.2. India is an insiders club and they keep it that way but not having a clear distinction between nodding yes and shaking no, basically when you ask a question simply proceed with what you wanted the answer to be--- you may be wrong but there was no way of knowing from the onset. 3. The more gods displayed on the dashboard of the bus; the graver the danger.

-March was busy but I survived, just barely. Two hours before a press conference with HHDL began, I was in my seat, determined not to loose out to the AP-pushy-French-woman (Katie you know my policy about being left behind, and jumping into cars ready-or-not). While my boss went to get lunch, and chat with friends, I saved seats (easier said than done), two hours later when HHDL entered the room I was front and center, and he answered my question. Although when he was addressing me I think I blacked out, I kept the recorder running, it was a pretty good start for my first press conference. I am counting it as a point.

-Mom sent me a package and it arrived at the central Dharamshala post office in no less than 6 weeks. M&Ms were a big hit with my roommates. thanks mom!

- I almost forgot, it rained so there have been plenty of showers recently

All and all it has been a pretty productive, eventful, thrilling two weeks. I think of you guys often, and as always----Love hearing from you!
Lots of Love
rah
-

Current score FL 3: India about one million

Monday, March 9, 2009

You’re a journalist? “Sure!”

I am not sure what the deal is but I am owning this idea of “India time”, the problem seems to be that “Tibetan time” is more exact. It is fine I am usually just means that I have to run places. Yesterday I am late….again, and this time it is for His Holiness. Charging through the metal detector (pvc piping that sometimes beeps) I am ushered into bag/pat down room where they try to take my cell phone and camera from me. I explain that I have this card and the security guard asks me , “ you are a journalist, you should have told me that first.” I thought, well maybe I cold have told you if it had occurred to me, but instead said “sure, next time” and took the promotion.

Inside the temple I walked right up the main stairs to where all the camera jockeys were standing and pulled out my very mini point and shoot. From behind there foot long lenses I knew what the other journalists were thinking, but whatever, must start somewhere; so I snapped away and got some decent enough shots.

After the prays HHDL walks right past me, such a thrill then I get pushed from behind by this Associated Press (AP) Bit** and the action continued (journalism I am learning is a lot like water polo, pushing and pinching are allowed as long as the ref. doesn’t see). Following His Holiness through the crowd I look to my left and I am walking beside my student Rinpoche, he is so happy to see me “hard at work” he says. He asks if I will be coming into the palace for the religious conference, I say that I don’t think I have the clearance and go to get in the “press” line, just in case. They have my name on the list and I am correspondent #75, sweet! I go through an even more extensive pat down and bag check and line up against the wall with the other members of the press.

They are all in a bit of a GRUMP-- I decide that I should share some gum and make some small talk, they are mildly amused. Rinpoche walks by and gives me a huge smile and a high five, he said “Yeah you are here, you made it in.” Instantly I have some more street cred. They have telephoto lenses and cigarettes, I have a high fiving Rinpoche pall and bubble gum.

The rest of the day continues, in the usual manor, I stand 20 feet from HHDL as he addresses the high reincarnations and religious leaders---ya know.
I have changed houses, I moved down the hill into my friends apartment. I was sad to leave the family but living with my 6 friends, (all sleeping on one giant mattress) is too much fun to pass up, it is as we say “a sweet sweet time in our lives.”

That’s all from D/shala, I am healthy, not at all wealthy, and getting wiser day by day.

Love
Rah

Monday, March 2, 2009

One Day at a Time

Yeshe became a monk when the was 22, he has conquered
anger, memorized the Webster’s English dictionary, and
spent 17 years meditating in a cave in the Himalayas. So,
for the past three days I have set my alarm for 7:00am to go
to meditation classes, conquering anger sounds pretty good
to me. I have may learn things from him including , “ lose
your money you have lost nothing, lose your wealth you have
lost something, lose your health you have lost something
else, lose your credit card---you have lost everything!”
He laughs when he says this, he has never used or needed a
credit card in his life. Also as we are stretching and doing
yoga he tells me; “you are a traveler you have stepped in
the worlds greatest oceans and climbed to many great
heights, but you have never stepped on your face, so try
it” His laugh is wonderful and deep and sounds as if it is
echoing through a cave.

This afternoon His Holiness returned from Southern India
and I got to see him as he passed by on his way to the
temple, it was incredible to see him, but even more
incredible was the crowd. I wasn’t expecting to feel very
much of anything but, as he approached the crowd of 1000
swelled with love—truly astounding.

I am at work now and the sun is going down, the mountains
will turn pink soon. Tonight I will again set my alarm for
7:00am so tomorrow I can get up and meditate before
breakfast of tea and a boiled egg, then I will head to work
. Days are becoming routine here but, but never dull, and
just when you think you know what’s up, a monk tells you a
dirty joke!

Burning for Freedom

Mr. Jamyang, a Tibetan student in Dharamshala, rips cardboard into squares and puts them on the bottom of candles; he explains that they are drip guards: “to keep you from burning your hands.” As the procession begins down the road to the temple his candle is extinguished by the wind a half a dozen times, but the wax never burns his hands. As the sun goes down and the candles become the main source of light in the crowd, the community and their thoughts are dominated by the flames that engulfed Tape, a young monk from Kirti monastery in Ngaba town (Chinese: Aba) eastern Tibet.

Ven. Woebar explains that while Tape was on fire the Chinese authorities fired three shots, at least one shot hit him, and he was taken from the scene and remains missing.

Ven. Woebar, led the community in the Tibetan National anthem, and thanked the community for participating in the peaceful demonstration of solidarity. He acknowledged the presence of non-Tibetans and insisted that foreign participation in demonstrations, and awareness of the Tibetan issue, is crucial to the success of the movement.

Mr. Jamyang puts his candle on the ground in front of him, looking into the flame he asks, “why did they have to shoot him, he was on fire already?” The crowd dispersed but his question hung in the air.

Friday, February 27, 2009

New Year Exiled

There is not party but you stumble home
There is no party but the vendor is sold out of meat
There is no party but everyone is inside off the street
Your spirit is temporarily on loan

So I walk on
And I walk on
And I walk on

Until I see you lying by the road
Crippled by the impossible load

You shouted but your voice went hoarse
Your fight, our dream,
They will succeed against our present course

you have hung your self on a short rope
Maybe next year, next year
there will be the option for hope

Monday, February 23, 2009

Saturday Afternoon

By noon on Saturday I am ready go get moving, the sun is shinning, and I have the day off from work, Julia and I walk down to lower Dharamshala to buy some fabric to get some clothes made. After two hours of pretending to be very high fashion and fabulous we went for lunch, and then to the bus station go get a ride back up the hill. A jeep with 12 people in it heading to Dharamshala, passed us by, we figured we would get the next one since that one was full. We were naive to think 12 passengers equates to “full,” the jeep reversed and came back for us.

The driver hopped out, ran around the car, opened the door, and shoved us in. It didn’t matter, no. 13 and 14 were happy to be on their way. Then the driver made and unexpected stop for petrol and (2 more passengers, 16 total). For “safety” he filled an extra container of petrol and loaded it on to Julia’s lap. And so we made our way back from of fashion excursion, me sitting on the lap of a woman half my size, Julia with a petrol can on her lap. Trying not to laugh—but not succeeding in hiding my amusement I paid the driver 5 rupees = .oo1, thinking all the while that the experience would have been a steal at 10X the price.

I am counting this as a point for the foreign ladies, the score is now
FL 2 :India 1,000,000

My First Hate Mail

I would be upset if it wasn't so funny,
And it is officially the only time I have ever been insulted and called tan in the same breath.

"U guys r just the lower level citizens
Bad blood and so fuckin tanned
I am just telling u the truth of what we think about u shitties.."

"shitties..." i love it

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Top 5 Favorite things about life in McLeod Ganj (this week)

1.Concerned citizens. In this small hill station the roads are as you would guess very narrow so the concerned drivers of the world honk their horn when their bumper is 5 feet from hitting me. It has occurred to me that by the time they honk the horn it would be too late for me to move anyway but I appreciate the concern.

2.Steep hills and endless steps, it is hard to be nervous for an interview when I have just had to climb up the mountain and am more concerned about catching my breath.

3.“yak cheese” in Tibet dried yak cheese is an enormously popular snack. Here there are no yaks and I have been assured no yak products so when the vendors ask me Hello, yak cheese? And show me a string of, what look like fermented marshmallows I am interested…

4.My Amala (mother) who daily warns me about Kashmir men and reminds me that everything begins with Chai. I am wondering if she knows something about the secret powers of chai that have so far escaped me, after all it is not red wine!

5.When asked where my office is the best way to describe it is to say “ across the street from the bushes that everyone likes to pee on,” the location is pinpointed immediately

Monday, February 16, 2009

William Dalrymple


Dhondup getting his book signed.

Dharamsala Feb 12, William Dalrymple, author of White Mongol read this poem in the Tibetan library. The words lived in the audience and I am beginning to understand what it means to be in exile.

Zafar scrolled these verses on the stable walls after his city was pulverized and he was imprisoned by the British.


When in silks you came and dazzled
Me with the beauty of your spring ,
Your brought a flower to bloom
Lover with in my being

You lived with me, breath of my breath
Being in my being, never left my side;
But now the wheel of time has turned
And you are gone—no joys abide

My life now gives mo ray of light,
I bring to solace to heart or eye;
Out of dust to dust again,
Of no use to anyone am I.

Delhi was once a paradise
Where love held sway and reigned;
But it’s charm lies ravished now
And only ruins remain.

No tears where shed when shrouded they
Where laid in common graces
No prayers were read for the noble dead
Unmarked remain their graves

The heard distressed,
The wounded flesh,
The mind, ablaze, the raising sigh;
The drops of blood, the broken heart,
Tears on the lashes of the eye.

But things cannot remain, O Zafar
Thus, for who can tell?
Through God’s great mercy and
The Prophet
All may yet be well.

After the reading and discussion I go to talk with Dalrymple, I ask him if he has found his new story here in Dharamsala. He tells me about an old man that he has found in a retirement home, if I tell you I would have to kill you (IItyiwhtky), but he has a great new story to tell. Off hand I remark to him that reading this poem in front of this audience is a story in itself, he catches on that idea and says "right" reflectively. I can’t help but think he means “write”.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

The way to Kungra Fort



The 25km journey takes us 2.5 hours. When we reach the fort we decide that it must have indeed been very secure especially if the invaders were traveling via auto-rickshaw.

Julia and I count this outing as a success because we have managed, for the first time since our arrival, to "doop" India. Yes, that's right we sent our Hindi speaking Tibetan friends, Jamyang and Ricden, to negotiate the price of the rickshaw. When we walked around the corner the driver tried to double the price, but we had him tricked--1 point for the foreign ladies.

at this point we both exclaim

"TII!" meaning: this is India. pronounced TEA!

My Student

I have been asked more than once, how my student Rinpoche became a high lama at such a young age. He was reincarnated and born as Rinpoche, so his status reflects his good works and pure heart of his previous life as the great teacher, or Rinpoche. I know him as a 30 year old monk who likes to eat meat, and read Frog and Toad stories.

Last night I asked him to tell me about his childhood. In accordance with the natural order, when an individual is born as a high lama their family suffers a great deal, this is so that good and bad remain in balance. Rinpoche was born in 19XX during one of the most oppressive times in Tibet, during this time individuals were not allowed to visit the monasteries and there were cut off from religion. At age two Rinpoche began to chant prayers, and speak about life in the monastery; prayers that had not been uttered his life time, and monastic life that did exist at that time. His father knew that his son was a reincarnated person and kept it a secret from the community and from the communists for 14 years.

During those 14 years mass starvation across Tibet, and across China, destroyed the population. Rinpoche’s family was no different, by the time he was 4 his mother, sister, and brother had died. He was left to take care of paralyzed father while his sister worked in the fields. When he was 16 there was a reasonable amount of freedom in Tibet and his father identified him to local monks. He was confirmed as a reincarnated Rinpoche. There must have been a great party at this point because when he is telling me this story he laughs and says that the village was very happy for two days. I believe him and wish I had seen it.

Three years later he made the dangerous passage to Nepal, it took him 18 days. When he arrived in Katmandu he learns that His Holiness the Dalia Lama has received to Nobel Peace Prize. He twinkles as he says this and his sincerity is palpable, he believes in good, and someday that there will be freedom in Tibet.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Press Pass

Today I went to get my press pass, laughing at myself—yet trying to be very professional. More often than not I find myself in this predicament, ie. suddenly being in a very real/professional professional situation where I am deferred to for very real/ professional decisions. For example, my first day of work. I cruse into the office a little late, check my e mail, chat- drink tea, check the internet for new news. Nothing, I sit around a little longer. Then my boss asks me if I would mind going to talk to a man abut his work. Nothing else is going on so I say I don’t mind. I climb to the top of the hill to catch a cab to the seat of the Tibetan Government compound. Suddenly I am in a rush, driving fast, honking, pausing patiently for cows in the road, it is all very exciting. When I get to the café I am supposed to meet this man at, I ask around, and he has gone. A bystander with a badge makes a phone call, and said to me he has stopped on the road we must go catch him. He runs away and I stand there, confused. He comes back on his motorcycle and I am supposed to jump on, so naturally I do. I am terrified,---yet trying to be very professional.

We run down a car that has Ghandi’s portrait affixed to the top and various other decorative elements. Dr. x gets out, he is the man I have been looking for and my first interview takes place right there in the street. He is a human rights activist who uses his own blood to paint pictures and write appeals to the Indian government. He shows me his work, I don’t want to touch it. When the interview is over he asks if he can give me a ride somewhere (we were still in no mans land) I say no that I will walk up to town from there. He insists that he is going that way and that I should get in the front seat of his car while he and his two assistants/translators are in the back with the baggage, I am not allowed to refuse. I get in. Going up the steep slope needles slide off the dashboard and onto my lap, I think of the other refuse in the car and I am happy it is a short trip. He brings me to the front door of my office and hands me a picture of himself with His Holiness. I bust into the office, and write my first report.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Monday, February 2, 2009

Graceland

I came home late in the afternoon humming Graceland, I was thinking about the shower I so desperately needed and was seconds from taking. There and been no water for two days and I was on a mission so I went right to my room without stopping to say hello to the family in the other room. A two minute lukewarm shower has never felt so great. I was happy, warmish, and cleanish, it was dinner time and I smelled garlic, so life was good.

Pushing aside the door hanging I went in to see my family. A monk was sitting with them talking. I was introduced to Rinpoche, he would like to learn English. I say that I can teach him, and I look over at my host father and mother and they are very pleased. Rinpoche believes that I can get special clearance to go to his office, I say I think that would be fine if someone would show me how to get there. We agree to have lessons every other day. It is a lot of work for me, but my parents are beaming so, I can’t help but to agree. My father, Rinpoche, and I eat dinner together in the living room.

When Rinpoche leaves my father looks at me and says, “very good, Rinpoche is one of the high lamas, and he is so good, and so well respected, that the Dalai Lama has given him an office in his private residence. This is very good for you, he is such a kind and happy man he will look over you as you look over his education.” The rest of the family ate dinner and discussed our visitor.

I went to bed thinking, what am I going to teach to a high lama? But, like my father said, I felt as if I was being looked over.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Economist

Dear teacher, clear teacher, good teacher, and my very favorite--teacher sir; I answer to all of the above. My classroom is small, and is usually full by the time that I get there in the morning. But, that does not stop an additional 10 students from filing in the door after me and standing around the walls. In all I have around 40 students (half named lobsang, the other half named sonam or tenzin) a room that is no bigger than 15 X 20, one feeble white board marker, 40 huge smiles, and about a million questions. It is a lot of pressure, really. I spend most of my days preparing material for the class. The first day I thought I would read them a short article, pick out vocab words from the article, and then break them into small groups to discuss. I choose, foolishly, an article from the Economist about deforestation. My bad. 15 minutes of reading and I looked up and saw 40 blank smiles. I needed a back up plan, I did not have one, and so I faked it. This is my forth day and I am starting to get the hang of teaching, or maybe my students are getting used to me... I don’t know but there are not as many blank looks exchanged anymore.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

A room of my own, well only sorta’

I moved in with my home stay family today. Our house is 242 steps down from the main road, a hop over the water pipe (it is cracked, so a giant hop over the pipe and the puddle), and around the corner from the laundry drying bush, next to the bakery. To find me you could just follow the smell of the bakery that the family owns. Or ask in town, there are at least 20 people who watch me as I climb up and down the stairs, judging if I will make it without taking a break ( I never take breaks). My room is just off the living room and kitchen. I can come and go as I please, and so can the rest of the family. My bathroom is used by my host mother to do laundry, and my room doubles as the family alter. Correction, 1/4 of my room is the family alter, and it always smells like incense which is lovely really. I sleep on a Tibetan carpet and it is comfortable enough, it is easy to sleep in mountain air so it doesn’t matter if the bed is hard.

We had breakfast together this morning, and as far as I can tell I have five siblings all younger than me, three, maybe four uncles, a father and a mother. Pretty lucky. I like them, and they are going to cook for me and do my laundry so it is going to be pretty easy living.

Tomorrow I have class for the first time, I am teaching a beginning and intermediate English class for two hours every day. The class is about 25 students of all ages, I am petrified. Armed with some tongue twisters and conversations topics I am going to go see what I can do with the hour that I am given. We will see…

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Train to the Himalayas


The train plays it fast and loose over the tracks. My head bounces on the pillow all night long. From my top bunk I can touch the three walls of my berth. Every time I open my eyes there is a cockroach crawling along one of the walls. I tell myself that it is the same roach, and that he does not have a multitude of brothers, yet he keeps changing sizes.

It seems as if I am the only woman, and for that matter foreigner, on the train. I am definitely the only one in my present car. More disconcerting than that, no one seems to have the slightest idea what I am doing here. They are--or appear to be, entirely perplexed by my existence. I am supposed to reach my stop Pankot at 7:20am and I am wondering if I will know it in any other way than at 7:20 the train will stop. It has occurred to me that this is not like missing Back Bay and instead getting of at South Station, which I have done on occasion. If I miss Pankot, I am in Kashmir and very nearly in Pakistan. I have arranged, and classically overpaid, for a car to take me the remaining three and a half hours into the mountains. I am excited for tomorrow, to meet the people I have been in contact with, to see the beautiful scenery, and to find my new home.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Guernica

Pablo Picasso painted the instant that the world changed. Now, standing on front of Guernica, January 19 2009, MLK Jr. Day, the immediacy of the moment is again overwhelming. Picasso’s deconstructed, cubist, realism represents today's reality. Tomorrow, there is a chance for change, at 12 noon Barack Obama become the 44th president of the United States of America. Tomorrow, we will have a chance to reconstruct a better reality; a reality, where tentative cease fires are strengthened and made permanent, where allies are friends, not merely brothers in arms. Tomorrow, in this moment of change, I am boarding a plane to India to serve--as best I can, the Tibetan population that has been brutally persecuted. The horrors that have confronted them, and all of us, cannot and will not be undone. We have a chance to change the reality in which Picasso’s Guernica was created, and reconstruct a new, better, reality.

A short note from Dad

Rah,
In reading your blog I recall my reaction to seeing Guernica for the first time in the long room in the back of the Prado. I had never understood or really thought much about modern art before seeing that work. Did you get a chance to visit the valley of the fallen? It is F. Franco’s monument to the fascist soldiers killed during the Spanish civil war. Although I am generally not a fan of fascism it is pretty impressive.

love
Dad

Monday, January 12, 2009





Hi Guys,
There are several themes of this trip that we would like to bring to
the forefront before we get started. 1. we love trains. 2. eric
walks at about an 8.5 and I am about at a 5, so I pretty much jog
everywhere like a ninny. 3. when in doubt, put a donk on it (we will
explain later). 4. missed trains are an opportunity for clean sheets.
5. resist all temptation to bum-rush doors when you are laden like a
camel (jmel) with a backpack heavier than you, a small backpack on the
front (though helpful as a bumper), and a duffle on the side,
especially if your backpack has a number of pendent, heavy, and
ungainly items (water bottles, shoes, smelly socks…). You'll probably
trip on the uneven, tiled, and wet landing, and nearly have to patron
the man in the square selling teeth, because you'll have knocked yours
out. Dr. Styrt would have been very unhappy. 6. climb things, but if
it's a sand dune, hold a touareg man's hand. 7. if a young, loose,
western woman ends up in a kitchen with a bevy of touareg men, don't
assume that she wants to be there, or that she's able to leave when
she wants. She'll give you grief for it later. 8. Muslims don't
drink alcohol (at least not in front of other muslims), but their tea
is filled with enough sugar to get you drunk. 9. give snake charmers
and monkey owners a wide berth when walking through squares, because
you never know when one of their keep might be flung in your direction. 10. eat
jamon. 11. you don't need a reason to drink, but free tapas is a good
one. 12. tailless monkeys love pasta, and have soft hands. The cable
car operators that feed them have large nose growths. 13. don't EVER
order a tuna burger from a snack stand, unless you are Russian and
"its for someone else." Harty says these are too many themes, and
they're not really themes, so here is some elaboration, but the rest
can be left to your imagination, or maybe we'll satisfy your remaining
curiosities at a later date.

1. We trained basically the entire length of Morocco, only to get on
a ferry and two buses, for a total of, I don't know, about a million
hours on the road. Finally ending in Gbralt via walking across the
main runway in the shadow of "the ROCK", which was dramatically up-lit
at night. Directly related to theme 4. It became necessary to train
all day when we went to the Mkesh train station only to find out that
the last train left 15min prior to our arrival. Our grand
Gibraltarian arrival (10:30 at night into an abandoned town) is
related to the tuna burger fiasco, theme 13, and the disgruntled
Russian. In case you are curious, a tuna burger of Gbralt is a burger
with a can of tuna upended atop the patty, including oil and tuna
juices. We couldn't help but laugh---and we learned another valuable
lesson, don't laugh at a Russian or his food.

3. Put a donk on it; handy in more ways than you would think! The
Berber people use donks to transport their food/supplies/wares great
distances. The surprising det is that the donks are unaccompanied,
giving them the freedom and the opportunity to peddle the goods
elsewhere for a larger profit margin. Silly old donks, those saggy
old baggies (we met a crazed brit who favored all of these "desert"
expressions, ie "saggy old baggy", and have adopted them into our common
parlance).

6. if there is a dune to climb, a car to climb on top of, anything
really at a higher elevation----CLIMB it, the view is better and the
journey will be worth the hassle.

7. As a loose western woman, I feel it is necessary to interject my
own voice in the retelling, seeing as how I had limited agency in the
actual event. The camp was very clearly rigged with trip wires that
would alert men from all corners of the camp whenever I walked out of
the tent/hut alone. Thring! A bell would go off, and they'd come
running, would zharah (my Arabic name, meaning flower, enormously
popular) like to look at the stars, make some tea---you name it,
anything to get you alone. As an aspiring journalist it was easy to
agree to long talks with nomadic Toureg people, they just happened to
be men about my age with other ideas. Oh well what can you expect from
a loose western woman?

8. They call their green/mint tea "Tuareg whiskey," and they drink it
as if it were whiskey. After seeing the iceberg-size chunks of sugar
go into those tiny teapots, we were understandably sugar-rushed when
forced to drink 12 cups in one day. So, it turns out they don't need
real whiskey to get crazy. The British version of the hokie-pokie is
called the oakie-kokie, and somehow, us, 2 brits, and about 6 touareg
men ended up doing the pumped up British version around a desert
campfire. It was probably the tea. It seemed more like a nature ritual
than a nursery song…or maybe just desert magic. In other tea news, we
drank some at a 100 year old man's home, with his granddaughter
sitting in the corner, in the bowels of the ancient Kasbah, a
labyrinth of houses and apartments and mosques and stores so dense
that light barely filtered in through tiny light wells above. Then
Sarah got henna, and I sat and chatted with our guide's "big mom" and
aunts and tried to ignore the aljazeera propaganda playing on tv. They
were lovely.

Enough for now. In a few hours we catch the bus to my dinky little
town, as always with our themes and lessons in mind. It will be nice
to have 3 days in the same place, which we haven't had since last year
(in Madrid), then we soldier on, to Sevilla and beyond.

Love love love

Sarah and Eric

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Happy New Year
If I had to guess how new years would go, I would never have guessed that it would have been anything like this. Not twenty steps out of our front door we found ourselves being overtaken by a funeral procession. Just as Eric was going to be clocked by the corpse we figured out that we were being waved aside, and we stood by and let it pass before moving on to the main square. The center of the city-- the whine of the snake charmers, and the strange hazy dust made the mammoth space seem even larger. There is no simple way to walk the stalls and avoid monkeys on chains and projectile snakes. Oranges are stacked and squeezed; the juice matches the color of the buildings. An old man dressed in white, with a table, and an umbrella has roughly 15 pairs of dentures on one crate, on the other, nearly 500 teeth an inch thick spread out for shoppers to peruse. A tooth shop, I wonder what type of molar I will choose? Do I pick one that already has a flashy filling, or a simple one that may blend into my other assorted dentures? How to choose teeth? I don’t know, maybe I will make my choice tomorrow? Within three hours there we bore wittiness to a fast paced funeral procession, an aggressive snake throw, a tooth vendor, and were nearly crushed by a two horses that stutter stepped into us and pushed us against the wall. The first day of the new year and it is not business as usual.