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Published: December 1st 2005
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Our last day in Lhasa. We planned to take a jeep and go to Namtso Lake (5 hour journey one way) and come back during the day (10 hour journey total). Namtso lake is the second largest salt water lake in Tibet and is the only one to be sacred (I forget why). Every pilgrim is supposed to walk all the way around it (about 200kms); foreigners are excused of this duty and only have to walk around 2 large stones (about 20 meters). After seeing the jeep and the driver, we decided to cancel the tour as they both looked exceedingly unreliable and prone to cause problems. Instead, we went in the morning to the Museum of Tibetan History. It would be a farce if it were not in the context it is. The museum is full of lucky newly arrived soldiers and party officials, to which the full lecture is given on the past feudal living of the monks, the fact that Tibet has always been part of China (they just didn't know it) and the peaceful liberation of the people of Tibet.
However much I despise the Chinese Communist Party for their brain-washing and despicable behaviour in
Tibet, I have to admit they have also done some good: the country now has a lot of new roads criss-crossing the region, the cities are clean, well lit and safe. There are food hygiene standards, everyone seems to have a house and there is full employment; a new airport is being built, the parks of the city are being redone and even sewers are being constructed. There is a brand new railroad (the only one in Tibet) being constructed to link Lhasa with Beijing. Every kid goes to school (alas a Chinese one) and there seems to be a stable political system (for the better or the worse). I just think that it is a shame that a country with the wealth, resources and manpower that China has, is not using its potential to a better end, instead of erecting large ministeries and building large motorways with lampposts every few meters for the single benefit of a few Yaks and, maybe, a party official or the other.
Should those resources not be used to build hospitals and health care centres? The only decent hospital in town is the Chinese military one, open in priority to Chinese officers, then
soldiers, then Chinese civilians and maybe then, just maybe, foreigners. The civilian hospital is little more than a derelict building, its windows are broken, its ambulance is gently rusting amongst the field that has grown in front of it. It is generally agreed amongst the foreigners here that, should anything at all happen, you are better off taking the next plane to Kathmandu, even with a serious medical condition.
I am looking forward to arriving in Bhutan, as it is rumoured to be exactly what Tibet was like before the Chinese Invasion. Are they better off with modernisation or living in their own secular ways and traditions? In the afternoon, we went and visited the monastery of Sera. It used to be one of the four big monasteries owned by the yellow hats. This monastery was particularly famous for being the home of the soldier monks, the elite forces of the Tibetan government (before the Chinese got there, of course) and it was also famous for its debating sessions.
We were lucky enough to be allowed in the courtyard where the debating took place. The monks formed in small groups of five to eight. One stood up and
made his points of debating, slapping violently his hands in the direction of is opponent at every major points he made. The debating was lively, with every monk taking full part, really debating what is supposed to be theology but we reckoned they debated the best football teams and the merits of their individual girlfriends or maybe even world foods. It was an impressive sight, one that does not seem to fit with the politics of the land but makes for a superb spectacle and an interesting school or education technique. Debating every point with the force of conviction to display such enthusiastic physical strength in one's arguments is bizarre for foreigners, where our education system is to learn and regurgitate. The end of the afternoon was spent on the roof terrace of our hotel, looking at the Potala Palace and talking about our future trips. Packing our bags, paying who needed to be paid; last minute postcard and email writing occupied most of the evening. Bene and I celebrated the end of our 30 day journey together by having a delicious meal in a nearby restaurant.
We worked out some interesting figures during the meal:
If we
take it that an average Tibetan eats Yak meat at breakfast, lunch and dinner for most of his life. We agreed that a Tibetan would therefore (on average) eat the equivalent of an entire Yak every 2 months; this means 6 Yaks a year. If he survives until the tender age of 70, eating half less meat when he is young and old, he would eat about 375 entire yaks in his life. Quite an achievement!
The population of Tibet currently stands at 2.5 million; 70% of that figure are made up of the Chinese colonisation force. This means that there are about 750,000 Tibetans in Tibet (not counting the exiled population in India and elsewhere).
750,000 x 6 = 4,500,000 yaks eaten per year. If, to that, we add the figure of 1 yak consumed per year per Chinese habitant (1,700,000), this means that 6.2 million Yaks are eaten a year. If we are to assume that every year, 1 out of 5 yaks are killed for its meat, this means that there are about 31 million yaks in the country (including the wild ones), more than 10 yaks per inhabitant. I sense a revolution coming up.
Shattered after this week full of emotions and activities, we had a relatively early night but not before one last drink on the roof terrace, bidding our farewells to this city, its sights, sounds and smells we had grown so accustomed to and eventually grown to like (the omnipresence of the smell of Yak was the hardest) and even feel at home in.
I must admit that I am also slightly concerned by the reception my hat will receive in Kathmandu.
In Mongolia, it was terribly popular and all wanted to try it; in China, less so: it was viewed with mild curiosity and was barely tolerated. I achieved a resounding success in Tibet, where there is a cow-boy and dressing up fashion for the Chinese tourists but I fear the Nepalese are not yet ready for my hat. Only time will tell.
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