by Kate Karko
Both our families were overjoyed. When we phoned to tell Tsedup's parents, we learnt that Sirmo was pregnant too. I was thrilled to know that our child would have a cousin the same age and I couldn't wait to see Sirmo. A hospital scan revealed that I carried a son, and in the summer we took him for his first trip to Tibet. He was five months old in the womb. When we arrived the whole family ran out of the tent to greet us. I was euphoric as I went inside. Everything was just as it always had been, but the tent seemed bigger somehow. Shermo Donker smiled warmly at me. She was more beautiful than I had remembered. Tsedo looked wilder, with long, tangled hair and a beard. I hardly recognised him. After the first few tentative moments, everyone fell back into the old familiar humour, joking and laughing together. The children jumped all over me again, although they were told to be more careful this time. Dickir Ziggy was at school now and came back to see us one weekend, boasting to her brother and sister of her accomplishments. Dickir Che and Sanjay examined the contents of her satchel methodically and fought over the coloured pencils. It felt good to be home. Somehow the grassland looked different, strangely autumnal for this time of year. There were fewer flowers and it was not as lush as I remembered it last summer. The stream had cleaved a new path in the bank and a small waterfall gushed close to the tent. We lay and listened to it each night, inside the new tent that Amnye had made for us.
Being pregnant in the grassland was a revelation. I was treated differently this time. There were new rules. Annay explained carefully to me that I was not allowed to visit any other tents in the tribe apart from Rhanjer's and Annay Urgin's. Even in their homes I was not allowed to eat anything. I was baffled as to the reasons for my confinement, but Tsedup told me that it was a custom here: the nomads believed that the unborn child might be harmed by malevolent spirits associated with other families. He told me to be especially careful in Annay Urgin's tent, as the Kambo household had powerful deities. I bore it in mind. Also, on a practical level, Annay wanted to protect the baby and me from contamination by food. Only she would cook for me, she said. Sometimes I felt like an invalid, but at least it saved me from the hectic Tibetan social whirl.
I had to wear my costume differently too. Shermo Donker showed me how to tie it below my swollen stomach, which made me seem even more voluminous, but despite the discomfort, I was happy to be pregnant here. The women were always gently touching my bump and asking if I was all right. The scan picture, which I had brought especially to show them, provoked amazement. They had never seen anything like it. 'The western doctors are incredible,' they said. Annay asked if she could keep the image of her grandson.
'When will you bring him to Amdo?' she asked.
'Next year, when he's a bit bigger,' I replied. 'Maybe a year and a half old.' I wanted him to know them all, to learn the language, to ride yaks and run naked in the grass as his father had when he was a child. And to be proud of his nomad heritage. That summer was the first time I felt our son move. On hot days I lay in our tent watching the sheep shimmering in the midday heat. The children sat around me staring at my stomach, as the baby kicked inside. They put a stick on my belly to see if he could knock it off. 'He moved! He moved!' cried Sanjay, each time the stick quivered. Our boy was already part of the family.
I wanted him to be named in the traditional Tibetan way. A lama usually performs a divination to determine every Tibetan child's name, so Tsedup asked our monk friend Aka Tenzin for help. We waited anxiously for a few weeks as the monk went to consult the boy lama, Jarsung, in Labrang Monastery. You might think it reckless to leave the naming of our son to a thirteen-year-old child, but we felt it was the right thing to do and spent the time fantasising as to what the name would be. It was a bit of a lottery. When he returned Aka Tenzin sat us down and smiled broadly, as was his fashion. He looked at me as I grinned with anticipation and then he simply said, 'Gonbochab.' I turned the name over. It would be a mouthful for his relatives in England, that was for sure, but I loved it. 'It means "Blessed by the Saviour",' said Tsedup.
That summer, Sirmo was allowed home at last. The joy of our arrival seemed to have prompted Amnye to relent and he gave his permission for her to visit. It had been ten months since her elopement and her father hadn't seen her since she had left. The residue of those angry days still remained. Everyone was nervous as to how he would react to her and her husband. We all ran out at the sight of three horses in the distance, straining to see them, and as they rode closer, the children flocked around them laughing and shrieking. Sirmo smiled weakly and her husband, Chuchong, was silent as they dismounted with the mediator. The goblin man had come again to offer his diplomatic assistance, but after his last encounter with Amnye he looked a little nervous. They were ushered into the tent, where Chuchong took his place of honour on the carpets by the fire. I was shocked at how young and vulnerable he looked as he listened politely to the elders' talk. He cast furtive glances at Sirmo as she stood on the women's side of the fire in her old place. She looked splendid in her finest clothes and jewellery, but also tired. She was heavily pregnant and her skin was discoloured with the dark patches women sometimes have, but she was ecstatic to be home.
It was clear that Amnye was moved to see her again. He remained calm and even smiled once or twice. Goblin was visibly relieved. Once the formalities of the reunion were over, Tsedo took Chuchong off to play volleyball and Sirmo busied herself with serving tea and bustling around the tent. Amnye spoke softly to her, calling her 'Babko', her child's name, and fussing over her. We were relieved that everything was back to normal. In his own quiet way, he had mellowed and forgiven her. Time was a great healer.
Over those few days of Sirmo's visit, the tribe were in the middle of a summer picnic. A huge white tent had been erected in the middle of the encampment and all day they played and ate and danced. There were water fights and everyone was thrown into the stream. Everyone except Sirmo and me, of course: we were forced to be more restrained. Although we were permitted to enter the communal tent, since it had no harmful spirits, we were instructed by Annay not to eat anything. We sat quietly together holding hands, as the rest of the tribe rioted in traditional fashion. We compared stomachs and appetites and moaned about our tiredness. It was touching to be able to share the intimacies of our changing bodies. Even Ama-lo-lun, who had fully recovered from her illness, joined the party and teased the young men, waving her stick at them and challenging them to throw her in the water. The crazy atmosphere reminded me of our last Christmas.
Before we left Annay took me walking in the grassland. Tsedup had told me it was something to do with the baby and we would be going as far as the boundary fence, so I was curious as I set off with her. She led me through the grass carrying a bucket containing tsampa. At first she didn't seem to know where she was going and changed direction several times. I followed her, still oblivious to our task. We left the gush of the waterfall behind us, moving silently through the rough grasses and the last few blue flowers of late summer. All I could hear was the rustle of the grass around our shins and the breath of the wind. Annay began sprinkling tsampa about her on the ground and muttering, ' Om mani padme hum,' as we headed for the railway arches, far away from the tribe. I still had no idea what we were supposed to be doing, until I stumbled over a mound on the ground. 'Well done. You've found one!' cried Annay. It was a small raised tuft of earth that looked like the offering site outside the tent. I thought perhaps Annay might start to burn offerings on it as I had seen Amnye do, but instead, she stamped the ground and sprinkled some tsampa on top of the mound. Suddenly hundreds of ants appeared and I realised that we had come to feed them. We were giving back to the earth and the tiniest of sentient beings for the sake of my son. Tt will be good for him,' said Annay.
We wandered deeper into fresh purple- and rose-tinted grasses. The yaks had not grazed this far and the flowers there were still blossoming yellow and blue. At each ants' nest we stopped to feed them, prayed and moved on. Then we reached the fence. But Annay was not deterr
ed by the barbed-wire confines of her homeland. She urged me to lift it, then crawled underneath. I couldn't follow her because of my stomach, but I handed her the pail and watched her wander further into the wilderness, sprinkling around in the fuchsia flora. She seemed so beautiful at that moment. It was not in the awkwardness of her laboured gait, her loose grey hair or her soiled clothes; I was deeply humbled by the beauty of her spirit. Breathing in the fragrant air and blinded by the dazzling sun, I scanned the vast panorama of my Tibetan home: the mountains, the river, the grassland, the tribe. 'All this is for you, our son,' I said. 'All this is for you.'
It was still hard to leave after the six weeks, but somehow Tibet did not seem as inaccessible as it had. It was now part of our lives. We planned to build a house and come back each year. Tsedup and I would witness great changes in the lives of the nomads in our visits to come: those of Tsedup's generation had fewer children, less land, fewer livestock than their ancestors. Now some of the children were going to school and a few of their parents even had mobile phones. Only their unfaltering spirituality would stem the tide of modernisation. It was at the heart of the nomads and would be passed from father to son for ever. Tsedup and I would watch the children grow. They were the future.
***
A few weeks after we had gone, Sirmo gave birth to a son. He was named Tsering Dhondup. Then, in the winter, our own son was born. Tsedup stayed for the birth along with my mother. It was not the custom for a nomad man, but somehow he defied one of the greatest taboos of his culture to be by my side. I hadn't demanded it. I soon forgot the pain, but I would never forget his tears falling on me.
Our boy, Gonbochab, is the bridge between our two worlds. We hope he will inherit the best of both, for he is loved in the East and in the West. Sometimes I stand with him at the kitchen window and we look out beyond the small yard and the fence and the backs of other people's houses. We look up at the sky and the planes flying east. I rock him gently and tell him that one day we'll take him to his other home.
One day soon.
Glossary
ajay – aunty
arro – Hello
Bardo – the intermediate state between death and rebirth
Bodhisattva – a spiritual incarnate or emanation of Buddha, who cares for all sentient beings
Bon, Bonpo – indigenous shamanic tradition of Tibet and its practitioners
Bourgea – traditional Tibetan hat made from silk and lined with fur
Chadmay – leather belt worn by nomad women, decorated with coral or turquoise and silver discs
Chenrezik – the bodhisattva of compassion
Cho demo – How are you?
Chorten – religious monument of brick or stone, consisting of a dome, a box, a spire and a plinth
Chuba – traditional Lhasa-style pinafore dress
Chukgor – steel weight attached to a long leather thong which is used by the nomads to defend themselves against dogs
dalin – saddle-bag
darchok – prayer flags
djoma – small brown beans dug from the earth
djomdi – a dish of boiled brown beans, rice, sugar and melted butter
dobshair – woven hanging used to cover up the items stored at the back of the tent – sometimes embellished with coloured ribbon and bells
dro – female yak
gamtuk – wooden box containing tsampa, butter and cheese
garchot – non-blood offering
gorji – headband of amber stones worn by pubescent girls
hdir – 'treasure' – offerings to the earth, contained in colourful cloth bags
hornig – the nomads' dating game: young men travel miles at night on horseback or yak to seek out young girls in their tents
jib – fireplace, the heart of the nomad tent, made from turf and clay
jo – wheat husks
kabshat or lazjhee – mountain love songs traditionally sung across the valleys by young boys and girls
kacher – long sheep's hair
kadak – white silk stole representing the purity of the Tibetan heart (sometimes referred to as 'prayer scarf')
katsup – the gap between the fabric in the middle of the tent roof, which allows the smoke from the fire to escape
kirchi – tube of brightly coloured, knitted fabric used as a hat or a face-covering in winter
kirok – sash worn around the tsarer
korlo – prayer wheel
langwha – washing basin
laptse – holy mountain
long had – 'wind horses', small paper squares with pictures of horses printed on them which carry blessings when thrown to the wind
lu/luma – male and female demi-gods of the subterranean world; serpent spirits of earth and water
mandala – the 'Wheel of Life' – a symmetrical picture made from coloured sand. The simplest mandala is an empty circle and the centre represents 'emptiness', the pure awareness and limitless space of the Buddha mind.
marcho – blood offering
merdach – spun sheep's wool
momos – traditional dish of steamed parcels of meat
Nam Nyeur – 'Sky Man' or ancient man
namma – bride or daughter-in-law
ndashung – wooden spear, about six metres high, with a brightly painted flight for pegging the earth at spiritual offering sites
nyen – sky gods, of a warrior-like nature, who live on the mountain peaks
Nyon Nyi – a religious ritual dedicated to fasting, contemplation, prayer and self-purification
phurba – ritual dagger
piju – Chinese word for beer
ratcho – pipe
rawa – head ornament sewn into pubescent girls' hair, made of heavily embroidered silk fabric, silver and precious stones
rungpizz – ribbon rice noodles, served cold with garlic, vinegar, chilli and tofu – favourite dish of the nomad women
samker – broth of tsampa, salt, and milk with ginger or aniseed
seeto – wicker basket
shabala – meat fritters
shangtee – traditional Tibetan boots with pointed upturned toes, made from felt or leather and usually only worn by old people
shermo – girl
shinlab – literally 'wave of grace': the feeling experienced after receiving the Buddha's blessing
shogshung – 'Staff of Life' – the main spear which marks the site of mountain worship
shugndot – knotted protection cord given by a lama, which is worn around the neck
shyee – child
sockwa – shoulder blade
sonnam – religious merit
tanthuk – soup of meat and small squares of cooked dough
thanka – religious painting, usually on a silk scroll and depicting the Buddha
thib – small brass cups for filling with water as an altar offering
tolla – three-wheeled tractor-like vehicle, which is sometimes hired along with a Chinese driver, to transport the nomads to the grassland
tranger – prayer beads
tsa tsa – small triangular clay icons, a few inches high, formed from a bronze mould and sun-dried, depicting the Buddha
tsampa – ground barley flour
tsarer – traditional Tibetan dress resembling a large wrap-around cloth coat with woven or leopard-skin trim and embroidered detailing
tsokwa – thick sheepskin tsarer with leopardskin collar, worn especially in winter
tuckpa – soup or rice noodles and meat
tugh – colourful woven hem of tsarer
turnkor – churn
tzorgin – yak/ cow half-breed
yarsa gunba – grass worm – this particular phenomenon is a worm which grows fungus on its head and dies in autumn. The nomads say the worm turns into grass. It is highly prized by the Chinese for its medicinal properties and the nomads collect them in the grassland to sell.
yucka – beautiful
Illustrations
All photographs fro
m the author’s collection. Chapter illustrations by the author.
The family tent