Tibet's Occupation: A Tragic Story

So far, I've had the opportunity to watch two documentaries about China's invasion and occupation of Tibet: Escaping Tibet and Cry of the Snow Lion. If you can get your hands on them, please watch.

With both films, it was incredibly hard to fight back the tears while watching them. To give some context, Tibet was once a mighty military force whose conquers reached as far as Central Asia. The king at the time then converted to Buddhism, disbanded the military, and since then the country has been devoted to non-violence and peace. Monasteries in Tibet were institutions of higher learning, like libraries and universities are, as well as being pillars of spiritual knowledge and practice. The entire country was devoted to spiritual enlightenment. Was it perfect? No. A hierarchical class structure left an aristocracy and monasteries benefiting from the labors of peasants who remained poor. Yet, ninety percent of the country's wealth was devoted to monastic education, which if one were to compare, is what the U.S. spends on its military budget. It would be similar to the U.S. diverting it's military budget and applying it to education instead.

Since the Chinese invasion of Tibet 1.2 million Tibetans have died, that's one out of every six Tibetans dead. A campaign of genocide is in full effect while Chinese settlers are given incentives to immigrate to Tibet. In the capitol city of Lhasa, traditional Tibetan homes have been demolished to make way for housing settlements for Chinese settlers. Tibetans are being displaced from their homes and Chinese is the official language of occupied Tibet. Not all Tibetans speak Chinese and Tibetans are institutionally excluded from jobs, so many are forced into poverty on top of being displaced. The Chinese population is quickly outnumbering the native Tibetan. This is a classic case of colonization that has been played out with Native Americans in the U.S. and Canada and many other formerly colonized countries in the third world.

Since the occupation, thousands of monasteries and nunneries have been destroyed and religious freedom stifled. The Dalai Lama is labeled a splittist and it is illegal to own his picture. Many monks and nuns must undergo re-education camps where they are forced to denouce the Dalai Lama, which completely violates their vows. Otherwise they face torture. Monks and nuns are very active in the resistance movement, staging protests demanding a free Tibet or publishing literature that accurately documents accounts of the Chinese occupation. Such acts of dissent are met swiftly with military force resulting in death and/or torture. Lhasa is covered with surveillance cameras and high sensitivity microphones to spy on any "dissenting" activity.

The accounts of torture are horrific. Both films had accounts of monks and nuns who had been imprisoned for 22, 28, 33 years and others who had been imprisoned for less. There were many accounts of prisoners being beaten and denied medical care and food. Some were released close to death so the Chinese could avoid the embarrassment of a death on their hands. Many prisoners were tortured to death and then made to look like a suicide. One monk was imprisoned for 33 years and for some time he was hung by his hands so he can no longer extend his arms properly or fully. He was able to smuggle torture instruments used on him out of Tibet. They included electric cattle prods, handcuffs and other electro-shock instruments. One nun's account of torture included being shocked with an electric cattle prod in her vagina. The effect of being shocked with this instrument is being knocked unconscious. The stories go on and on and get worse and worse. One touching account is of a woman who was imprisoned for 28 years where many of her friends died. While in jail she collected a piece of each of her friends' clothing who died and made a quilt in honor and remembrance of them. So she would never forget their faces she said.

With all these accounts, these Tibetans have such compassion for their torturers absent of any hate. That's how evolved Tibet is. And how brave these survivors and resisters are to continue telling their stories. Some readers may already be familiar with what I've written and for those not, while I have the forum of this blog, I have the responsibility to share this information.

Tenzin, the Tibetan, has offered to take me to Tibet. I refuse. I'd rather visit a free and sovereign Tibet. It may not be during this lifetime AND it is fully possible for the sovereign nation of Tibet to be free during my lifetime. I hope so. In the meantime, the grief I feel for Tibet during it's occupation would be too much for me to witness in person.

A Red String: My First Audience with the Karmapa

The purpose of my trip to India is to see His Holiness XVII Karmapa, the supreme head of the Kagyu lineage of Tibetan Buddhism. While I was in Southern India, he was giving teachings in Sarnath, Varanasi, with the Dalai Lama, where the Buddha gave his first teaching after attaining enlightenment. It turned out that the day he returned to Dharamsala was the same day that I arrived in Dharamsala. It turned out that airfare for my flight from Chennai to Delhi went down right around the time that the Karmapa was returning home. A funny coincidence or not. Who knows.

A week after being in McLeod, I went to the Karmapa's first public audience since his return. Tenzin, the Tibetan, accompanied me to the Karmapa's temporary residence, Gyuto Tantric University, where the audiences are held. Gyuto Gompa is a beautiful monastery in the lower Dharamsala area with the stunning backdrop of mountains.

To attend the audience, Tibetans and foreigners must register and then go through security before they can await His Holiness in the main temple. Everyone also has a kata, a white scarf, to give to His Holiness. We all waited for a half hour or so and then the moment arrived, His Holiness came into the main temple. Everyone bowed and then the order of events was as follows:

Everyone lined up. People had their kata and money in hand. His Holiness was accompanied by several monks and security. First there was a monk to whom the kata was given. The monk then put the kata back around the person's neck. Then came the Karmapa who stands behind a table. People humbly placed money on the table and the Karmapa doled out a red string. He didn't look at anyone directly. Some asked the Karmapa for blessing. The money isn't a requirement, it's a voluntary donation. Afterward, each person was directed to the temple exit and left the temple. For me it was very short, and very impersonal. I felt very discouraged and thought my whole context for being in India was shot. I came here from the guidance of some dreams and ended up feeling no connection to His Holiness.

I went again to his next public audience a few weeks later. To prepare myself energetically, I did compassion meditation and chanting, especially toward myself. I don't want a negative thought further degenerating my karma. This time, I figured fuck it. If there's no connection to the Karmapa, the compassion meditation is really all that counts and if he inpires me to do it, then that's what's important. This time I had no attachment to hope, outcome, or any connection. For my second public audience, it was the exact same thing as the first time. This time I was fine with it all. No attachment. That evening I could feel the Karmapa all around me.

I emailed a wise friend back home about these accounts and she generously gave me a very wise question in return to contemplate: What is the Karmapa teaching me by giving me a red string?

My New Home

A few weeks ago, I moved into my new home, an apartment in McLeod Ganj. I love it. It has a full kitchen (which in this area does not include a fridge) and attached bathroom with hot water. It's VERY clean and located further up a road in McLeod that's away from the hustle and bustle of town. It's owned by a Tibetan couple who are expecting their first child shortly. They take good care of me and feed me every now and then with delicious momos, pancakes, and porridge.

After I do my morning meditation and hygiene ritual, I open the door and drapes to let in the sunshine. Between 8:00 and 9:00 or so the sun shines directly through my door and whenever I'm home, I leave it open to warm up my room and enjoy the beautiful view. After I cook breakfast, I enjoy eating it in the sun on my apartment floor balcony walkway. Since my apartment is higher up, I have a beautiful view of the mountains and the town below, especially from the rooftop.

When I first moved in, the husband owner gave me some cautionary advise: when I go to the bathroom, shut my apartment door because the monkeys might come in and take something. And if I'm in the apartment while I have the door open, have a stick handy to chase them away. Monkeys are a problem in this area and they get blamed for everything. I understand now why everyone here has a pet dog - because of the monkeys. The wife owner of my place has a slingshot with an arsenal of rocks that she shoots at monkeys who get too close as do many people in the surrounding apartments.

When I first moved in, the owners gave me a bowl, plate, one set of silverware, a pot and a pan. That day I went to the market in lower Dharamsala to complete my kitchen. My Hindi teacher in Bellevue would be proud of the full Indian kitchen I've set up. I'm damn proud of it too. My kitchen is equipped with a pressure cooker, belen and chakla (a short wooden platform and rolling pin for making roti/chapati), roti pan, a dabba masala (Indian mult-spice container), and a variety of stainless steel containers and plates. I love my heavy bottomed pot for deep frying, something I always wanted in the States but was reluctant to buy for one reason or another. These are all things I'll send back home when I leave because they're costly back home. Naturally, the first thing I put on the stove my first evening in the new apartment was a pot of chai. A wonderful housewarming.

The Indians that I've met so far get a kick out of me because I can read and write Hindi (although like a little kid), I cook Indian food, and I know all the Bollywood actors. They ask me what I cook and when I tell them, roti, parotha, gobhi ki sabzi, egg curry, veggie cutlet, cilantro and tamarind chutneys, they chuckle. They're surprised when I read the newspaper, but I don't understand what I'm reading. They ask if I speak Hindi. Toda I say. A little.

Since arriving in Northern India, I try to read as many signs as possible so I can become faster at reading. I also track my expenses, so now I do it in Hindi to practice even more with writing, especially numbers. It's also good for building my vocabulary. When I get better at Tibetan, I'll do it in that language too. Right now I'm still learning the alphabet. While shopping, I also talk in Hindi as much as I can, even if it's just asking "Kitna yaha?" over and over again. How much is this?

When I was in Delhi, I was surprised at how much I could say in Hindi to the guys at the tourist office who helped me out. It wasn't much at all, but more than I expected with the many lengthy lapses I've had in my Hindi study.

Being in a predominently Tibetan town, I miss being around Indians. There are Indians here too, but McLeod is a predominantly Tibetan enclave. Going to lower Dharamsala is refreshing. The Kotwali Bazaar is there with a variety of shops and markets. It's where Tibetans and Indians in this area do most of their shopping.

I love the stainless steel store. It has a variety of pots, pans, plates, cups, containers, pressure cookers, urns and more. I'm like a kid in a candy store there and often have to practice self restraint. It's my new fetish. I buy fresh produce at Kotwali Bazaar as well or at the market in Mcleod every few days.

So gradually I am settling in. I am exploring my options for learning Tibetan and volunteering. All my options are like separate puzzle pieces that haven't quite yet come together to create the context of my life here, but it will in due time. It's also winter season, so all classes and many restaurants are closed until March. Many people go away for the winter because it's so cold. Right now there isn't much that I can plug into, but Losar (Tibetan New Year) is just around the corner, which initiates the tourist season. It is also followed by teachings by the Dalai Lama. I'll have much to look forward to very soon. Until then, I'm enjoying, savoring really, my alone time.