Letter about Lhasa

I remember a time not so long ago when one could pick up T-shirts in the markets of cities in India and Nepal embossed with a very colourful flag and the words “Free Tibet”. The markets are still there, as is the clothing and the flags, but the word “free” seems largely to have been replaced with the word “save”. Now, more than a month after the brutal Chinese crackdown in Lhasa, the very survival of the occupied country seems at risk.

It’s a cool Wednesday afternoon in Mcleod Ganj, the upper part of Dharmsala, and seat of the Tibetan Government-in-Exile. I arrived only yesterday afternoon after a particularly nasty five-hour bus ride that followed an overnight train journey from Delhi. Situated at about 1800 metres above sea level, the place is a welcome respite from the scorching heat in the union’s capital. It’s also worlds away from – although an integral part of – India.

I awoke to the predictable news of Hillary Clinton’s win in the Democratic primary in Pennsylvania. A short – but challenging – walk up to Dharmkot, a small town some 400 metres higher, followed. There, to my disbelief, I came upon a couple of ultra-orthodox Jewish men, a woman wearing a wig to cover her hair, and a scattering of children. According to the owner of the place they apparently rent, these tenants have been in residence for a few years.

Their presence is surprising. While Dharmshala and its surroundings are particularly popular with Israelis, who seem to descend on such places in massive packs, religion is the one thing they seem to leave at home. Evidence of their strong presence is everywhere – signs written in Hebrew, posters advertising Passover events, restaurants offering Israeli salads and loud, guttural voices everywhere. But while they may be Jewish, most of these travellers could hardly be described as religious.

Many do, however, seem to have come here for a spiritual experience. Home to a large Tibetan exile community, orange- and purple-clad monks and nuns walk up and down Dharmsala’s narrow streets and alleyways. They spin the prayer wheels of the temple that sits right at the town’s centre, move their wooden rosaries through their fingers with great dexterity, and mutter what appear as prayers to themselves. A large number now also carry Tibetan flags wherever they go.

Reduced to a minority in their own land, Tibetans are now only free to express their religious and political lives in exile. Their story is simply and movingly told by an exhibition at the Tibet Museum, which abuts the Dalai Lama’s temple and residence. It recounts a proud history of independence, occupation in the early 1950s, the 1959 rebellion that gave rise to the Government-in-Exile, and the ensuing campaign of “civilising the savages”. Freedom has long been lost – mere survival is now at stake.

But the urgency of the current crisis, which follows decades of cultural genocide, is not included in the exhibition. Instead, images of the March crackdown are everywhere else. Alongside strident calls for action, loud banners include horrific photos of injury and death. Buddhist nuns, as part of a hunger strike, sit almost motionlessly as they chant. Hand painted posters describe ongoing human rights violations. The evidence is overwhelming.

And yet other than the Olympic flame’s perilous global journey, the international media seems to have lost much interest in China’s abusive conduct. Granted, its arms shipment to Zimbabwe is currently getting some coverage – but that’s more about Robert Mugabe than Hu Jintao. Much the same can be said for recent coverage of China’s military support for Sudan. And while we focus attention on these important events, as well as the Clinton-Obama duel, Tibet’s future hangs in the balance.