12-July-2006*Bolo

Today, Tashi Namgyal escorted Jra Wu, Benpa, Tamdrin Wangmo, Tara, and me to Bolo. We wound our way 15 km down the Tsang Chu canyon, enjoying the spendor of rocks, trees, mountains, and livestock. In many areas, the mantra Om Mani Padme Hum Hri has been etched and painted into the stone cliffs.

Our first stop was the rag-tag Bolo Gompa. This small monastic village, decorated everywhere by thousands of faded prayer flags, is a scattered complex of little cabins and aging rammed clay and wood temples, intersected by narrow alleyways full of nettles, meandering cattle, and scruffy dog packs.

We went, with a small gathering, to the shrine of Gönpo Chödrak. The outer room, dusty and dim, contained heaps of barley grain offerings, snow leopard skins, and 20 or more broken rifles, tied to a pillar with silk sashes. We made a several hundred yuan offering to pay for entry to the locked inner shrine, which is open only to men. The four men of our party entered, offered prostrations, and had the chance to glimpse the most sacred object at Bolo Gompa. The inner room was grimy but amazingly fragrant. Mixed aromas of burnt butter and floral incense permeated the cabinets and walls of the room. The floor was covered in old cheap linoleum upon which thousands of grains of barley were scattered. The lama in charge then spread a canopy of offering scarves for me to view a small statue, rimmed with gold and orange flames. This was an object of great spiritual power, I was told, and I did feel strong vibrations permeating the room. I suddenly remembered the natural and direct state of unborn awareness. Oh yeah, I thought, this is the main point!

Departing from Bolo Gonpa, we made our way to a beach next to the confluence of the Tsang Chu and the Dri Chu rivers. It's a power place, surrounded by tall round peaks and even loftier granite crags. The ruddy Tsang Chu merges into the green-brown Dri right at the apex of a large bend in the latter. The water there flows strong and deep, rushing on its way toward Shanghai and the South China Sea.

The beach is composed of an amazing and rich array of water-smoothed stones: black, green, red, white, striated, speckled, striped, and stained. We spent an hour or so picking through the stones and choosing a collection of nice ones for Tara's therapy work. Whither these stones…near or far? Did some tumble here from distant upper reaches of the mighty Dri? Perhaps some tumbled to this beach from Nongte as well.

Bolo itself is a strange, junky, disjointed, melancholy town with crappy dirt dog streets and small rammed earth houses, drab and dim. Dominating the town are the county government buildings, the school, and the hospital. Beside this latter outpost, a vacant lot was filled with scattered trash and broken glass. Four ponies and a colt were tied up against an earthen wall.

Midst the impressive confluence of mountains and rivers, this downtrodden town left me with the impression of a setting sun trailer town, broken and sullen.

12-July-2006*Dang Kong / Nongte

We've had an eventful series of days. On the 9th, we went to Tara's eldest sister's home, Dang Kong, 3 km up the valley. There we were feted by Tashi Chödrön (Tara's sister), Jra Nam (her husband), and Be Zha (his brother). It was a challenging two days of negotiating endless meals and beer toasts. Be Zha held court, offering up toasts and puffing his way through cigarette after cigarette.

Be Zha is quite a presence, dressed in his fine suit and perfectly pressed white shirt. Wearing his short black hair and Jiang Ze-Min glasses, he looks every bit the party old boy. Thanks to him, Kutse Valley boasts a serviceable road, a handful of sturdy bridges, a working medical clinic, a school, several small hydro-electric plants, electricity to many households, and also running water in many places. Be Zha certainly knows how to work the system and play all the games of Sino-Tibetan politics. But it appears he's also a simple country boy at heart, relishing this relaxing respite down on the farm.

During our visit to Throng Zam, we also visited the elementary school that serves this valley. The school is attended by around 250 pupils, many of whom reside at the school, living in dorms with 10 beds to a room. The kids were milling about the central courtyard when we arrived; the teachers gathered them together and grouped them by grade. Then it was time for the track & field award ceremony. Top finishers for the different races and age groups were called forward and presented with pencils, pencil sharpeners, notebooks, and such. Some of the high-mountain kids with their rosy cheeks, strong eyes, fluid movements, and broad smiles truly carried the air of champions as they stepped forward to receive their prizes.


After the award ceremony, we visited the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd grade classrooms. They were spare and simple, with desks in rows and blackboards at either end, displaying Chinese and Tibetan writing, and arithmatic tables. The kids, as everywhere we go, were excited about me and my camera, some of them hamming it up to get into the picture.


The following day, we returned home to be greeted by Tara's sisters Gadrön and Tsering Chöntsok, visiting from Jomda. It was a festive evening of stories, jokes, mo-mos, and Tibetan music videos. After two days of porking and drinking, I was stuffed to the gills and felt like someone had opened my gut and filled it with huge piles of oil, flesh, stones, and excrement. I was extremely uncomfortable and made my way to the roof for a zaftic and heavy movement contemplation under the lovely waxing moon, stars, and scattered alabaster clouds.

By pre-dawn, though, my fortunes had begun to turn. I was awakened by a particularly juicy fart, and shortly thereafter found myself dumping a gusher down the Tongo crap chute. Returning to bed a queasy feeling began to invade my guts and I realized I would be sick. After tossing and turning for hours, I finally heaved up a stomach-full of gastric juice, which provided a short reprieve. But, this was followed by a bilious eruption, and I spent the day in bed. Tessa and Tsultrim Dorje also discovered the malaise and found their stomachs coming back up.

Some Tibetan medicine and a lot of rest cured the ailment and by the following day, I had made a recovery.