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We were in the land of Shangri La, a place of overt beauty on the
southwestern edge of China. It was a land of huge skies and tribes
that had their own history intertwined with the Chinese Dynasties
for a thousand years. Bai, Naxi, Akha, and Tibetan tribes had
occupied these lands, trading skills and bartering with 20 other
tribes making it an unparalleled cultural place in the world. Gems
throughout this area rested in valleys, sitting in the mountains
offered a pure taste of a vibrant and physical life. Day to day life
is carried out at a pace that is dictated by the
fundamentals—weather, hunger and tradition.
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"[A] collection of men, old,
ancient and young gathered with their lean and eager horses for
a display of horsemanship..."
(Jeff Fuchs) |
Trinyi was one such place. The population was entirely Khampas
(the fiercely independent people of Eastern Tibet). Local dialect
and dress were distinct and the women’s pink and red turbans could
be seen bobbing amidst the fields. Days began at 5:00am and by
8:30pm lights were out and only the mountain winds were heard.
This little town of 50 households was at least seven centuries old
and built according to traditions in this part of Kham and Yunnan.
An outer wall protected an inner courtyard, and the ground floor was
the dwelling for the raucous pigs and chickens. The inner sanctum
was protected by a dog of massive proportions that seemed totally
unconcerned with the food supply so close at hand. These dogs feared
neither yak nor horse nor human, but they feared Ma and Alo. In fact
I had learned to mimic Alo’s sounds so that the dogs might, if only
briefly, rest easy around me. It was a minor success every day when
the dogs cowered slightly as I made soft “cha” sounds.
For two days a collection of men, old, ancient and young gathered
with their lean and eager horses for a display of horsemanship. Lean
bodies hovered upon horses without saddles as they streaked over the
green flat valleys. Bodies would lean out grazing the ground as
hands collected silk ribbons on the green floor while the horses
flew. The old men with their creased faces delighted that the young
had not lost this primeval expertise. Time did not exist and for
these afternoons under the moving clouds, it was an old world.
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"A long phalanx of women would
cut with medieval scythes..." (Jeff Fuchs) |
Seven days a week the morning ritual was the same: Milking
yaks in the faltering dark, with only the sudden squirt sounds
of milk in the tin bucket and little laughs and snips of sing
song conversation. As the harvest time approached the families
prepared. It was the women and their no nonsense approach who
did most of the organizing. The night before we started the
annual harvest, I was slapped on my back and pointed to my room
by Ma. On my little black clock the time read 7:40pm. She knew
what lay ahead while I remained happily ignorant. Sleep came
easily with the cool silence and woody smells.
Families however distant worked together in teams. A long
phalanx of women would cut with medieval scythes bending and
dipping as a few of us would trail behind collecting the barley
and putting them into piles. Then the last team would heave,
stack and ease these masses onto a massive wheeled trailer. A
tractor would show up, driven madly by a local teenager to take
away the barley stacked up 30ft to dry. The women sang joyous
tunes while working at a ferocious rate and seemed able to work
while chatting, singing and resting. My hands were being
shredded by work as I watched them. I consistently lost ground.
The turbaned heads would peak back and the air would light up
with laughter. I didn’t want to embarrass Ma. I plodded on with
muscles starting to hint of something uncomfortable and when
break time came with warm yak milk, I looked at my watch. It
read 7:30am! Lunch arrived an eternity later, and we sat and
drank tiny cans of tamarind juice between bites of buns and the
omnipotent Zhamba. We moved from one field to another with all
of the contributing members’ fields being similarly cut and
stacked.
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Twelve Dawns in Trinyi
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