Friday was intense. We went to McLeod and talked with Ama Adhe--an amazing woman who spent 27 years as a political prisoner in Tibet. She endured greusome torture and terrible conditions but lived to tell the tale. At one point she was in a prison camp where they literally were fed maez powder sprinkled in water 3 times a day for food. 300 women went into the camp. 4 came back out. She was one of them, and this she attributes to the fact that she prayed to Tara every day. She prayed even though they tied her to the ceiling and beat her and made her kneel on sharpened pieces of wood and told her if she cooperated they'd let her go back to her 3 year old son and infant daughter. She knew they were lying (and when she got out she found out that indeed, what they'd told her for years was rubbish) so she prayed and refused to give them the names they wanted of people who were involved with the resistance. She swore if she survived she'd go to the Dalai Lama and tell him everything. And even though when she was released (during the "soft period" in the 80s) her children told her "Ama, you have had nothing to eat for years but the leather from your own shoes--now you do nothing but sit and eat and pray and we will provide for you," she knew she couldn't stay. She escaped to India and kept her promise. The Dalai Lama listened to her whole story and told her not the hate the Chinese because most of them were following orders. He told her to spend her time now educating people. Though she's illiterate she's had a biography written which is published in 11 languages, including Chinese. She has also traveled to 10 countries to speak about what she's seen and lived through. Intense.
We went from there to go and have dinner and a movie with our roommates--a weekly ritual. Seeing as we'd had some pretty depressing movies in the past, this week we saw "Planet Earth," the desert portion. They were definitely impressed. When the part on Arizona came up I told Chunnit that I drove through that desert between school and home. It was kinda crazy sitting in the Himalayas and remembering that drive, not so long ago.
I was told that Valentine's day is pretty much not a thing in India. As an American, though, I got wished happy Valentine's day last Saturday probably more times than I ever have been at home. People here are fascinated by the taboo topic of a day of affection. Everyone was asking us if we celebrated it. And you know, even though I wasn't with any kind of sweetie, I had a pretty epic day.
We trundled down to a late 8:30 breakfast on Saturday (yeah, that's sleeping in here) and found little valentines on our places. Cynthia, our program director and probably one of the happiest, most positive people I've ever met, had stayed up into the wee hours of the night making overly sparkly cards for us. Adorable. After a breakfast of porridge, toast, and hard-boiled eggs, I went back to my room to wrangle up the troops for our valentine's day mission. Chunnit, Bhuti, Emily and I had decided to head to Kangra Fort.
We started out on a journey to Gaggle--the little town nearest our rural campus--me with my backpack strapped on carrying our essentials. On the way a cab driver asked us if we'd like a ride for 10 rupees, so we took that offer. Gaggle's a bustling bundle of intersections, little shops, advertisements, and fruit stands. We wove through crowds of cows, shoppers, beggars and stray dogs and caught a bus. We crammed into the front--Chunnit and I squeezed into open seats at the front while Bhutti and Emily sat on the platform next to the driver. We bumped and swayed our way to Kangra with the two of them holding our seats for support with every turn and laughing when they started to tip over. Every few minutes a whistle blew to announce someone's wanting to exit. It's funny to me how personal space feels different here. There was a guy practically sitting on my back for part of the ride, but I didn't really notice until I saw someone looking strangely our way. It's funny how fast you get used to that stuff. My roomie Chunnit stood up so a woman with a baby could sit in her seat. Cutest baby EVER.
From Kangra we haggled with a corner full of rickshaw drivers for a few minutes until one of them agreed to take us to Kangra Fort for 70 rupees. We took pictures and videos along the way and everyone tried on my big "American" sunglasses. Emily said she liked rickshaws better than taxis and I agreed--it's easier to see the countryside slide past when it's open air and not windows dividing you.
At Kangra Fort a sign read "Local admission: 5 rupees. Foreign admission: 100 rupees." It's only $2 but WOW. Kinda crazy. I managed to pay for everyone at that stop. The 4 of us are always wrestling with each other to try to pay or wash our tea cups or lunch bowls. My victory at that moment was minimal seeing as I was only really paying 10 rupees for our local friends. We walked up the road to a little shop and bought chips and mango juice while Chunnit joked in Hindi with the shop owner.
Kangra Fort's pretty epic. We climbed stairs stairs stairs, and I felt like we were in the Lord of the Rings. It's a really old fort that survived an earthquake and is still being restored. We sat on a cliff at the top and watched specks in a line of mules being led across the river and the huge birds flying next to and below us. The green on the other side of the river was stunning and the sun was HOT! I couldn't believe it was February. I showed Chunnit that youtube version of "Umbrella" on my iPod and told her it's our song. (For those unfarmiliar with the lyrics, the chorus goes "When the sun shines we shine together. Told you I'll be here forever. That I'll always be your friend--took an oath and Ima stick it out 'till the end. Now that it's raining more than ever, know that we still have each other. You can stand under my umbrella. You can stand under my umbrella). She didn't really catch the words so I wrote them down for her. She said "A-le!" (An addictive Tibetan phrase roughly equivalent to "I see!") Then Emily and I busted out the fancy American chocolates that we'd splurged on for the occasion. (I forget what they're called--those awesome little chocolate balls with all the layers that are wrapped in gold foil...sweetness!)
A few hours of picture-taking, sun-basking, and laughing and we headed back down. We stopped in Gaggle for Chai and I was once again amazed at Chunnit's charisma. She knew so many people passing on the streets, and she joked knowingly with the Chai shop owner, who makes GREAT treats too, we found out. She stopped and got some green beans and red carrots for a friend of hers who had asked her to pick them up as a favor, and Emily and I got oranges for our rooms. (Oranges are the only "safe" fruits for us to eat since we can peel them ourselves and therefore don't risk eating stuff washed in local water. Pretty silly but supposedly pretty necessary).
Back at Sarah finally I treated myself to a hot bucket shower and did some laundry. Dinner was at 5:30 and then Chunnit whipped out her volleyball. We played (or tried) for a while. She's an all-star, I swear--her skinny little self flies across the court in her maroon robes and little black shoes. Some other students and a hand full of kids joined our game, during which we spent just as much time chasing the stray ball as we did actually hitting it. Then the ball actually flew into the drain. It's a big open pit that's easy to see the bottom of, and Emily and I offered to jump down and get it. Unfortunately the sun had just gone down and some bats were flying in and out of it. They all said "careful, they''ll bite your EARS!" Man, I don't know if they were kidding, but we backed off from that hole PRETTY quick. We decided to brave the hole the next day when we had sticks and zero bat-problems. Then the basketball came out! Even though it was dark and the court had no light, me and Chunnit played well into the evening. We didn't make many baskets, and when we did we usually couldn't tell since we couldn't see a damn thing and the hoop has no net--but we didn't care. It was a blast. We got some Chai in the canteen by the court with a friend of hers who lives downstairs. (p.s. the Chai here is served in the smallest cups imaginable, so having 5 cups of Chai a day isn't quite like it would be in America. a cup = like 4 gulps) Her friend's a sweet heart and speaks great English; she had actually partnered with me earlier in a Tibetan class when we were being taught commands like "sit down," "stand up," and "put your hands in the air." Now she drilled me about Valentine's day in America. I told her my Valentine was dressed for the occasion and put my arms around my red-robed roomie, which they thought was hilarious.
I worked the rest of the weekend on my own rendition of the "wheel of life"--a creative project for our philosophy class. I decided to depict the 6 realms within the relationships that women have with their bodies (hungry ghosts as women with eating disorders, animals as those struggling to eat at all, humans as athletes--the potential to do so much good and so much harm to their bodies, etc.) It took me forever because I'm creatively a perfectionist. I had fun, though, and I'll present it tomorrow with performance poetry and a hell of a poaster collage.
So yesterday we met with Palden Gyatso. He's a 78 year old monk who was born in Tibet and because he happened upon the uprising in 59 got sent to a Chinese prison. And because he refused under interrogation to "confess" that Tibet has always been a part of China, he remained a political prisoner for 33 years. 33 YEARS! Like Ama Adhe, since escaping into exile he has made his mission educating the world about what happened inside of Tibet in the prisons--the story that China still doesn't tell. He went to a huge concert in San Fran, for example, and told everyone about the treatment he endured. He brought cattle prods and other things that the Chinese had used to torture him and other prisoners. These things are brutal--one shock and you're out cold usually. They used to bury men alive when they went unconscious if they were trying to get rid of prisoners to make the food spread around more. One day when he was affirming Tibet's independence under interrogation, they said "you want independence? We'll give you independence." They took him to the other room and put the cattle prod in his mouth. When he woke up all of his top teeth were falling out and his tongue was burnt. He took out his false teeth and showed us the scars on his tongue while he told us this. Our translator couldn't contain his tears. He also told us that though it wasn't proper for a monk like him to talk about such things, since it was an important fact he felt obligated to inform us that they also used these cattle prods in women's vaginas. Nun's vaginas. Nuns don't even use tampons. That bit really fucked me up.
He said that he doesn't hate the Chinese because he understands that most of them were working under fear of being punished by the government. Ama Adhe had told us that the Dalai Lama had instructed her not to hate the Chinese but that she hated the government nonetheless. This man, though--though he claimed like the Dalai Lama to be a simple monk who was mediocre in the practice of compassion and wisdom--genuinely expressed his love and compassion for the Chinese. He said that he thinks it's really important for us to go to Tibet if we can because foreigners visiting puts pressure on the Chinese government to make reforms in their treatment of Tibetans. He also advised us that many of the cheap goods that are made in China are made by Tibetan prisoners who stay up all night in order to complete their impossibly numerous tasks so as not to be punished. I asked him if there were any arenas within Tibetan studies that presently need more attention since we are all going to be choosing research topics soon. He suggested the Dalai Lama's plans for autonomy, the recent cases of brutality inflicted upon Tibetans, and a few other interesting topics.
More than anything, this man's presence was most striking. He had a face so worn that you could picture his skull beneath the deeply-creased skin, but his expressions were so jolly and his bloodshot eyes were filled with so much light that you couldn't help but smile when looking at him. He kind of glows. His little apartment has pictures of the Dalai Lama, one of him & Richard Gere and one Tanka on the plain white walls. It's itty bitty and we all sat on top of each other on the seats and the floor in order to fit. He said that he bought the place with the help of foreigners like us, so we were welcome any time. When we go, he said, we should think of it as going to our own home. He blessed our khatas and the malas that some of him presented us with and we took our leave.
Not your average Monday night.
We're going for a field trip on Thursday and I'm sure I'll have plenty to write after that. Stay well and be grateful--every breath is a miracle.
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