At last the sacred Mountain and the Kialash Kora

The dirt road from Purang to Lake Manasarovar and Mount Kailash is sometimes a 10 live lane highway! That’s because it’s just stony dirt track and cars take any path they want over the tricky parts. It was incredibly bumpy, hot, and dusty, getting to the heart of the world is a real challenge.

In my tent at the side of the Lake Manasarovar at 5410 metres is another challenge. The altitude made me nauseous and weak. The wind was howling, the lake freezing and my tent started tearing apart, flapping furiously. My expectation was to arrive at the Holy Lake, the true start of any Kailash pilgrimage and plunge into its soothing waters, letting go of all worries and conflict, immersed in the magic of Divinity. My preconceptions once more had to be set aside. What baggage I carry into every situation, tainting what lies in front of me.
While admonishing myself about my strength and ability to approach the power of the holy, I witnessed an old monk wander down to the lake in the wind, remove the top of his robe and wet his head. He then stood up and started his 108 prostrations towards the lake. The Lake where Queen Maya conceived Buddha. The lake whose water cleanses sins. I was humbled completely and tried not to lose heart. My commitment to stand peacefully no matter what I was presented with began to falter.

Some Facts:
To the west of Lake Manasarovar is Lake Rakshastal and towards the north is Mount Kailash, known in Tibetan as Khang Rinpoche. Manasarovar Lake lies at 4,556 m above mean sea level. It is the highest fresh-water lake in the world. Lake Manasarovar is relatively round in shape. The circumference of Manasarovar is 88 km, depth is 90 m and it occupies a total area of 320 km². The lake freezes in winter and melts only in the spring. The Sutlej River, the Yarlung Tsangpo River, the Indus River, and the Karnali River all trace their sources to its close vicinity.

3/7/2007

The day continued to be epic! Our tents nearly blew away, the wind forcing sand into my tent. Within an hour, I and everything else was covered in a thin layer of brown dust and my tent top was nearly on the floor! Paul began to feel really sick and his stomach was bloating like mine. I abandoned my Tibetan herbal treatment for altitude and readily accepted the western cure. Michael said: “How could the Tibetans possibly know anything about altitude sickness when that’s all they ever experience from birth.” Its like wind saying whats the feeling of wind! I started to feel tingly all over, like I felt in the Vipassana! What joy!

We decided to fight our way through the wind go and take a look at the hot spring which is near an old revered monastery built around a hill. The monastery where pilgrims receive a blessing before facing Kailash. Chiu Gompa Monastery

There is a house with little cubicles and baths for each person. There was a large number of Indian folk and we were still the only Westerners. The wind was still howling and dust was still blowing through the surrounding little village which seemed almost deserted. I noticed that the huge Indian party had set up a large well organised campsite.

As it turned out all the baths either had big gaping holes in them, and none had plugs. They had never been cleaned and the hot spring water came trickling through a spout from a wall. Michael managed to stuff up his drain hole and had a happy full bath. Paul and I had no success.

Although feeling sick, I was determined to keep calm as I knew I was extremely privileged to be on the top of the world at one of the holiest sites. I wanted my pride and need to prostrate as well as the old monk.

So I waited for Michael and managed a full-ish hot bath of spring water to wash in. Thank goodness I had brought soap and shampoo. I felt a little revived and set off by foot through the dirty yet quaint Tibetan town of single-story adobe block houses; many with the distinguishing colourful lintels and doors of red, green and yellow of Tibetans.

The old Chui Gompa monastery built as if it has grown from the mountain looked down on the town. It was a busy place for monks and pilgrims and many prayer flags were flapping in the wind. Cairns and Stupas were dotted all around the hill silhouetted against the blue of the lake. The wind and my weakness prevented me from exploring it. It was a metaphor for so many circumstances

I found a quaint Tibetan tea house that was deserted except for the elderly traditional Tibetan woman – in her Chuba (long traditional dress) and stripped apron with long beaded bone, pearl and coral earrings and turquoise with coral around her neck. When I walked in she was combing her long dark hair and looked so alike a native American Indian woman.

She was warm and welcoming although we could not understand each other, we were mutually pleased to see each other. I asked her for milk tea, hoping not to receive Tibetan Yak butter and salt tea. Michael and Paul and our Tibetan guide and driver joined me. Paul was feeling really sick and uncomfortable. I began to relax and reflect. I was going to approach this experience with an open mind and in a meditative frame of mind. It was uncomfortable, very inconvenient, windy, dusty, extremely dry at such a high altitude. The roads everywhere were long and very bumpy and dusty. The car was either hot or filled with dust. I was really out of my comfort zone. The people are extremely foreign and not Western at all. The service was appalling, most things were greasy, dusty or dirty. There were no toilets at all – and feeling sick with a yicky stomach is extremely off putting when squatting around the side of the building in the wind with the dust in your face and flies on your privates!.

I am being challenged to my core. Yet why should I become irritable and complain just because it’s not what I am used to? These people have so little. Many wake up hungry, so hard. Many have lost their houses and there is no Dalai Lama to guide them. The imposing Chinese system is hard and unforgiving, full of rules. Tibetan culture was dying; it was slowly being sucked dry. In the name of development, the Chinese had altered a land that had striven to preserve a natural approach to life. It had destroyed a people who cherished the study of the mind and the cultivation of compassion over technology and material advancement. As a South African I had experienced the hardships of apartheid. Of a people being made to feel ‘less than’. Here I was re-experiencing the same phenomenon.

Here I was, free, in one of the Tibetans holiest places. Thousands of pilgrims have walked here in the most adverse conditions and then go on to prostrate around the mountain. They rise above their prison and instead of hating the warden, they focus on their own salvation. It is as if earthly bonds are not seen. A devotion and submission I could only dream of. The faithful dedication to the Divine was evident everywhere and in every story ever told by Buddhists or Hindis. I respect this deeply and want to show it. My heart was softened and I prayed for the strength to be calm within my altitude sickness and my buckling spirits. Daily Meditation I decided would help. So what if I’m uncomfortable and can’t do any exercise and can’t be outdoors because it’s so extreme? I am going to let it all go and focus just on each moment.

When I was in the tea house alone with the hostess I gave her the mani-repa protective seeds from the Dalai Lama. Her eyes glistened and she bowed, holding the little packet to her head. I was touched and we smiled together. At last I could bring something uplifting to others. I prayed: “May my heart soften and my eyes look beyond the immediate discomfort. May I feel God’s presence and the collective presense of devotion. May my mind open and my consciousness be raised.” At this moment I sensed that I had been lead here and I that at least I had heeded the impulse.

The journey is long and hard with many obstacles – yet somehow it makes sense – to come to the highest plateau in the world, to the earths heart chakra – surely it can’t be accessed easily? The hardest thing in life is to love and be loved and the very beauty we yearn and long for. We go to great lengths to find a relationship or a place that allows us to feel loved and inspired. If the inner journey to love is so hard than surely the outer manifestation of it should be difficult to? Kailash stands for the Chenresig, the Buddha of compassion and its high pass is dedicated to Tara the goddess and mother of nurturing and compassion. The one who is called “crossing over” from one old life to a newness of heart. If this is so, then how can I expect it to enter in so easily? The journey to heart, to open up to the possibility of love and then face the impermanence of it all is the hardest one. Every mythical story about a journey requires that the hero be tested, that no one can just enter in and take the gold. The hero’s heart needs to be softened and tested to see how pure it really is. In ancient Egypt it was Horus, the Jackal headed God of death who had the job of weighing a pharaoh’s heart against a feather, to check if he can enter into the heaven thereafter. So in reality, it should be too. Reality is the reflection of the inner journey. And I am realising that the seen is not the real reality, I am understanding more and more that who we really are is beyond matter. Michael later suggested, that we were being frustrated by our needs not being met. It is for us to take this challenge and see beyond just a ‘hand to mouth’ mentality. A life, my life, of endless taking needed to shift. I discovered that I had also projected so many aspects onto Tibet and the Tibetans. As if they are the humans with the answer to all meaning. Should they hold all our fantasies? I have held a picture of a mysterious ancient culture who have developed psychic powers to their maximum; yet are now victim to a cruel large Chinese civilization. Like a sacrificial lamb. Somehow I imagined all Tibetans to be devoted compassionate young people in Tibet. Yet here they are, many buying into the Chinese way of life, many entrepreneurs and making a living with exploiting the spiritual tourists! It’s really unconscious of me to blame them for popping the bubble of my own projection. That’s the problem with idealization: we get the Prince to hold all those wondrous aspects of ourselves that we are unable to embrace ourselves. We then live half a life; hoping for the Prince to shine and love us. If he falls we are then lost and hate the Prince forever for destroying our belief in integrity or happiness. Yet it is ourselves that we undermined all along.

Tomorrow I would like to approach the day with an openness and drop expectations in an attempt to see beyond the immediate and the obvious; to trust; to surrender once more. “May Life unfold as it will and may some veils be lifted.”

4/7/2007

I woke to a still golden morning with magnificent views over a mirror-blue lake. The red clay of the abode houses golden in the morning sun. I sat for a ½ hour meditating, then completed an hour Kora around the hilltop monastery, only realizing when I passed an old grandmother with her granddaughter that I had completed it in the wrong direction! Clock wise is the Tibetan Buddhist tradition except for Bon believers who will walk anti clockwise. Kailash was now covered in clouds and invisible. How lucky I was that yesterday she revealed herself completely with bright patches of sun illuminating the snow on her South face.

I found myself feeling a little better, yet the nausea was coming and going.

The oddest thing is if I eat it settles. I’ll be the only one in our small group that gains weight after 20 kilometres of trekking a day, altitude, and then 56 kilometres around Kialash. Michael and Paul are already looking skinny. After an hour drive I am in Darchen the entry point to Kialash. There we had to buy tickets and get more permits in our passport! Why do the Chinese turn this into an entertainment arcade? Tickets please! The Chinese side of town is very stale with their concert buildings glum. The Tibetan tea houses still exist in their colourful quarters, yet there is a compound being built which looks like rows of dormitories. The Chinese have decided to cash in on the now popular Tibetan religion after initially trashing it.

Sitting 7 kilometres away from the foot of Kailash is surreal. After thinking and talking about it for so long, it is here, and soon it will be over. As with all things anicca. Impermanence. All desires, dreams, wishes, come and go. Yet this time I believed that I would be much richer from this experience. Every known saint in the last century has walked it. I likened myself for the moment to Francis of Assisi as there was a little bird that kept coming to my door wooing me with song. I had to say goodbye to St Francis when I realised the nest was above my door frame. My timid yet happy birthing?

From the beginning the “base” camp of Kialash didn’t feel spiritual to me – it rather seems like a business or any remote tourist attraction. I responded by going into silence so that my own chatter would not add to the irreverence. Lama Govinda writes a beautiful piece on the pilgrim and in it says: “The pilgrim abandons himself to the breath of the greater life…to an aim already present within him; though yet hidden from his sight.” Peter Mattiesen in the ‘Snow leopard’ said that this restless wandering or the search for the “Holy Grail” is called by Buddhists our TRUE nature. Just then I caught a glimpse of the full face of Kialash with her striations and snow covered cap glistening at 6714 metres high. I felt a stillness fill me to the core and I remembered a quote that jumped out at me a few months ago:

“The pilgrimage leads nowhere and yet in the act of going, the old life is left behind and the pilgrim returns renewed.” From the book ‘Last Seen in Lhasa’. I believed this and I was beginning to believe in the magical essence of this Holy Mountain. She did help us to link up with sacred energy and I hoped I could enter into the meditation of Infinity. The Tibetans believed that the Kora around Kang Rinpoche would purify sins of this lifetime and what a relief that would be! They say that this ‘Axis Munde’, connects earth to the infinite universe, like the metaphysical centre of the world.

I opened my map and reflected on the days to come:
THE KORA approximately 56kms
DAY 1: Leave Darchen 4675m . I would begin at Tarboche Flagpole, and complete the traditional prostration. Cross Lha Chu River and climb to Chuku Gompa at 4820 where there is a monastery and ancient caves. Maybe stay here?

DAY 2: Pass Buddha footprints and find the second prostration point; cross 3 rivers and arrive Diraphuk at 5010m where there was another monastery and a lodge.

DAY 3: Cross a river and climb up Drolma La pass to 5630m (the height a plane flies!)Descend and pass Gaurikuna Lake. Pass Buddha footprints and come to third prostration point at river crossing. Descend to Zatul Puk 4820m Another Monastery here. The longest day

DAY 4: Descend across 2 rivers to fourth prostration point and onto Trungto where there is permit checkpoint and our guide – continue to Darchen.

5/7/2007

No wonder I made such a dramatic exit with my friends and family. Saying goodbye ten times by email from India, telling JP where my will is, trying to speak to my mother but finally having to send an email.Because this is damn hard. Tibet is a hard country and it bites into all my weaknesses. The altitude for one has me in between nausea, headache and heaving for breath. All things that I really can’t stand: the lack of breath makes me feel panicky and I have to continually calm myself down. It alternates between heat and shiver cold within an hour and continues like this through the day. So I’m forever putting on and pulling off jerseys, hats, jackets and gloves! Talking of gloves, my hands look like crocodile skin and I doubt if even 10 exfoliations could sort them out. It is so dry that any exposed skin seems to burn (from heat and cold) and crumble. Thank god there are zero mirrors as my face skin feels like sawdust. My nasal passages ache and my sinuses are blocked.

As a mid-lifer – if I lived here I’d be cooked like an eglatarian! The other thing that gets me is the smell of places and the smell of food – everything inside smells of rancid Yak butter. Even my trusty water bottle smells when I drink from it. This increases my nausea which I try so hard to ignore. I’ve always loved clean and neat – here everything is dirty; I’m dirty too – mainly because of the dust but also because no bathrooms at all anywhere near the Kora nor the base town of Darchen. The only choice is a bowl of water or the ice cold stream. Today I went the cold stream route and washed in patches. When I say cold, I mean freezing water coming from an altitude of 6000 meters.

The Tibetan people are also rough – they are friendly but go against every type of etiquette I have ever practiced. They will come into your tent or room and just stare. They go to the toilet outdoors no matter who is looking; their children always look dirty (yet smiling); they all have dogs that look mangy and hungry and ALWAYS bark all night, and I mean ALL night. No one attempts to quieten a dog; the other thing is that the men who have filthy hands always grab my hand and want to hold it. There are zero trash bins, everything dropped in the muddy streets. And also the altitude here is so high, that the air could never sustain a plane or helicopter! So, yikes, if I was sick, there is no way out except a 4 day drive to Lhasa, on rough roads – as it has the only airport. I only heard and read after this trip the perils and dangers of Kailash. Many have come and been forced back by blizzards, some have died in disasterous conditions and others have suffered severe altitude sickness. Kailash is not for the fainthearted. I do not feel unsafe amongst these people or on the Kora, which began today. They may touch and poke but there is never any harm meant. It would be impossible for a traditional Tibetan to understand how soft, fragile and comfort-seeking I am. I often think of my friends Craig Port or Paul Vd B, both designer chic, and smile and realise I’m doing fine as I know they would never cope, maybe for a day or two, not a month!

So I began the Kora today. I left on my own at around 6am with a pack heavier than usual as I had to carry overnight stuff. Yesterday I walked a little to try and feel how acclimatized I was and I waddled up a slope – Kailash showed herself (she continues to hide and reveal herself through the day as she is higher than the cloud bank). I had been in a meditative state and as I saw her I had the same response as I had to Arunachela. I just began to cry – but this time I howled with a deep yearning. I prayed that this pouring would open my heart and that my consciousness would be raised to the place where I only feel the Absolute, which is true love. It felt as if I was in the right place at the right time in my life. To be able to continually look past my discomfort and look for the good and the pure. And it is here. There is so much innocence and gentleness in the eyes of the peasant Tibetans (not all of course) but generally, I have found it so.

So the first day I set out with an excited and elevated spirit. I was happy to leave Darchen, which looked more and more like a compound, and follow the well trodden path on my own with no one around (Paul was so sick that Michael and him decided they would leave much later and see me at the Gompa – they would have their stuff driven in since a jeep could do the first day). In no time the sweetest black puppy joined me wagging his tail and bowing and smiling. I gave him some of my peanut bar and he walked with me for at least an hour until 4 Tibetan men in traditional dress came by. I walked with them awhile until we got to the top of a hill where many prayer flags were fluttering and I noticed piles of old clothes. This clearly marked the real start for local pilgrims where they leave something old behind – the Kora being a way to purify their life of past “sin”.

I gave these men the mani-repa seeds from the Dalai Lama and they were so grateful they hovered around me and it was clear we would walk together for awhile. Just then an old Japanese man appeared with a bicycle wheel tied to his pack – it looked hilarious. He could speak English and he took a picture of all of us for me. We all continued on the Kora with one of the traditional Tibetan men continually trying to hold my hand, which I had to pull away after being poked in the boob! I chatted briefly to the Japanese man who had cycled in many places in the world, including Zimbabwe and Botswana! He clearly was an adventurer and was sad not to be on his bike on the Kora – but no worries as he was to cycle to Lhasa! He was carrying his wheel to ensure his bike was not stolen.

Start: Tarboche prayer flag circle.

We parted ways and soon I saw the Chukka monastery on the hill and I realised I could have walked much further than this. Anyways, I said I would stop here so that Michael and Paul could begin today as well. I decided to sit awhile by the river “Lha Chu”. It was freezing and a pale greeny-brown. I washed anyways. I had some tea I’d brought along and finished off my health bar. I now had nothing left to eat except almonds and I hoped the monastery would have some rice. I sat and meditated with an amazing view of the top of Kialesh. The Tibetan I met taught me to say Kang Rinpoche and I expect they were off to do the Kora in a day (56 kilometres) as altitude did not faze them. 108 Kora’s around this sacred mountain means certain nirvana if not this life, the next.

After “lunch” I slowly wandered towards the monastery and began to climb about 250-300 metres, that felt like 1000 with my shortness of breath. Just as I started I saw Paul and Michael in the distance and presumed they would follow so I continued. When I got to the top there was bad news – no room and no English. Fortunately a pilgrim came by who could speak a little English and I was told I would have to sleep in the tea house with the whole family! One walk in there – and there it was again but stronger: rancid YAK butter. I felt instantly nauseous. I thought I’d wait for Paul and Michael, yet after hours they did not appeared, so I did not know what to think or do. So I trusted and surrendered and stuck to what I said I would do I will even if it meant sleeping on the bench in the kitchen of the monastery.

Pilgrims climb up to the monastery and go around the temple where there are prayer wheels on the outside. They then climb down and go on their way. I wished I was following, I wanted to keep moving. Instead I sat in the open outside the moanstery with a magnificent view of Kailash, hthen tried to explore the caves further up the mountain, knowing I would have to face the smelly tea house. By about 6pm I went into the room of the family that looks after the monastery. The young wife looked 18 – she was so pretty in traditional dress with many strings of pearls and turquoise around her neck over a coloured shirt with long sleeves. The traditional Tibetan apron and a huge sheep skin coat wrapped over the top. She wore this around her waist when I arrived and then covered herself at night. I noticed when men arrived to join her monk husband for Yak tea, she covered her whole face with her net scarf made of wool. It reminded me of Muslim women. She has applied 2 red spots on her forehead: one between her eyebrows and the other on the centre of her forehead.

The children have been fascinated by me, one boy of about 4 or 5 and a girl of 7 or 8. I tried to play with them by drawing pictures and giving them pens to try. Then the girl insisted that I draw everyone – her mother, brother and herself. I said no to sketching her Dad (as somehow engaging a monk didn’t seem appropriate).

The wife made me Yak tea, which I could not drink and no one took my cup away at any time. We then had bowls with Tsampa mixed with either milk or butter. My hostess poured the liquid over the crushed barley powder and handed me a bowl. I had to mix and eat with my fingers. An hour later I’m starving, no breakfast and an inadequate lunch. I have a few almonds yet I’ll have to share. That means 3 nuts for me!

I played with the girl by teaching her ‘patter-pat’ which she loved and was good at. We then went outside and made animal noises, which are thankfully universal. I followed this with ‘hopscotch’ and drew squares on the dusty ground demonstrating how to hop and jump through the game. The boy got it straight away and loved it – soon learning ‘thumbs up’ as well.

The monk then started his evening ritual – drumming in a room for ½ hour than spending time in the temple, repeating a mantra and lighting and changing the butter lamps. It’s a tiny temple with thankas and hanging cloth symbols; lots of butter lamps and small bronze figures of Buddha adorned with turquoise and pearls in glass cupboards. I had read that an ancient white marble Buddha was housed here, I was not sure which it was. I decided to do the traditional Kora around the temple while repeating holy Buddhist mantras counting them with my mala: ‘om mani pudme hum’ and ‘om tara tetare ture soha’ and spun the 6 prayer wheels which face Kailash.

The monastery has a wonderful view of the south face of Kailash. The wind was freezing which motivated me to join the monk in the temple which he didn’t mind at all. I noticed that the children’s noses run constantly and when the monk’s nose ran he simply blew it on the floor in the house. There is a dung floor in the family room cum kitchen cum bedroom. Everything happens here and there’s even a T.V which thankgoodness was permanently off. The evening came and no one washed or bathed. The children’s clothes were filthy. I worried about catching their cold or maybe even lice again. The evening was very silent I wondered about the sleeping arrangements with all of us in the same room. The tall long haired monk brings out dry Yak meat and begins cutting it. Now what to do? – I don’t eat that either. I did not want to offend my host by refusing everything. The cold tea I never touched was still standing in front of me. The darkness comes closer…

I realise that I am in the home and life of a traditional Tibetan family. The wife is very pretty, quiet and sweet. The children are allowed to play anywhere and although active are good. There is a lot of sitting around in silence and for sure with this life there are few distractions – plenty of time for meditative practice and rituals. The saying ‘the silence was deafening’ can be used here. My ears rang. The family stays up really late. At 8 or 9pm another adult arrives, probably the monks sister and super is still on the flames. There’s a dog out back chained up in the cold – this is the only thing that disturbs me. It seems out of keeping to the tranquil and loving scene in front of me. The lounge/kitchen has benches from wall to wall in an “L” shape with traditional Tibetan handwoven Yak carpets and cushions as covers. Long Tibetan box type tables of red and green extend the length of the benches and from here we eat or drink. In the centre is a wood stove on which water is always on the boil. Every now and then juniper leaves or wild Thyme is thrown in with the wood which smells wonderful.

By 10pm, I decided to roll out my sleeping bag. Then I sat in a cross-legged position and meditated – which brought about much chatting – I heard the monk whispering though. Then I proceeded to creep into my sleeping bag, make a pillow with my jacket and go to sleep – I was tired so it was great lying cuddled up listening to family chatter which I couldn’t understand so it never grabbed my thinking. I was soon asleep. I awoke in the night to the woman chatting again and then I went to the loo outside with my torch which brought on giggles from the women. I came back and managed to sleep – it was so quiet and I could hear the river running by which was soothing. Next minute the light (which is operated by a normal cell battery) went on. It was 5am! Now I noticed that it was only who women slept here with me. The monk and children had the upstairs bedroom which was far more private and comfortable!

5am Chinese time – but I have only been following Nepali time (which the sun seems to prefer and makes sense as we are closer to Nepal, than mainland China). So really, my body thinks its 3am. The women were up dressing in the same day clothes and began lighting the fire and making more Yak butter tea. Clearly it was their job to get breakfast ready while the children and monk slept. I couldn’t just lie here so up I got. They kindly made me tsampa with Yak butter which I managed to stomach.
I completed another meditation and decided to walk around the temple saying mantras – It was freezing cold (can’t imagine winter if this is summer) and still dark. I realized again the usefulness of a monastery: It’s so easy to do spiritual practice when there’s nothing else to do. The major lesson for my little mind was how irrelevant it was to get uptight about manners and etiquette. My English upbringing comes with : “Manners maketh man” This is so misguided, I just witnessed a gentle giant who handled his children with love but had no ‘english’ manners. I’m going to arrive home, go out to supper and burp then blow my nose on the floor and insist on hugs when my hands and body are grimy. I’m too socialized in the ‘clean way’ but manners and cleanliness must have their place – they do not make a person. The meaning of a person is in their hearts – their kindness and openness and generosity. How many times have I missed the in the eye of someone dirty because at that moment I immediately judged that person as “bad” or “common” or ‘lazy’. It’s about looking beyond the surface again. Beyond the clothes and the politeness and learned conditioned manners. Even a clever dog can learn to sit, beg, roll over, bark for hello! This is conditioned, learnt behaviour. This does not make the person we are on the inside. Here’s where the common saying “a wolf in sheep’s clothing” makes sense.

6/7/2007

MY SECOND DAY of the KORA

So after my 3am start, I meditated, stretched, completed a walking meditation, and ate tsampa all before 5:30am. I made it down the mountain to Paul and Michael by 6:30am with a heart overflowing with happiness, only to be faced with really stiff and frightened faces. They had slept with a family in a large tent and between 10pm and midnight there were intermittent screams coming from a young girl in another tent.

Michael had no sleep the night before and was feeling altitude and was exhausted, so he kind of only heard it infiltrating his dreams. Paul saw the Tibetan family get up to investigate the screams returning calm. Then a bit later more screams, more Tibetan talking then calm. Eventually big screams which took the Tibetan family outside to witness a young girl lying on the ground with blood on her face. Paul felt mortified but no one spoke English yet indicated that help was comming. It seemed she was going to be taken to the hospital – or so the gestures made out. Paul’s conclusion was that her father had been trying to sexually abuse her and every time she would scream. He would calm down when the neighbours came round yet would start again. Eventually he beat her. Paul seemed to know that the girl had died but when I arrived at 6am, there was no sign of trauma amongst the Tibetans. Just maybe they did get her to the hospital.? Not a soul spoke English except our Nepali guide, Darwa Sherpa who spoke no Tibetan! Paul and Michael were horrified and overwhelmed. Paul being full of all types of emotions. They walked out early and I wandered off on my own after tea. With our 5 yaks, carrying our gear, following thereafter.

My feelings were all over the show. I was so angry with the father – what heart of man can do this? Do parents know how precious children are? I reflect on SA and its very high sexual abuse statistics: 1 in 3 girls. The only reason I have not heard and seen the crimes is because I don’t live in the townships in SA where there are no walls between shacks and people can hear the neighbours! It’s not Tibet, child abuse and sexual abuse happens anywhere. So many young girls’ lives wrecked before they even begin adulthood. The emotional struggle to overcome this deep betrayal is complex. Tibet has more difficulties though because of the high distances, tiny villages, no decent infrastructure or telephones. Even if a child could call “child line”, it would take weeks over rough roads (sometimes unpassable) for a social worker to get there. Often remote kids don’t go to school either so there is no outside support for the children to turn to. I wondered for the first time about the welfare and happiness of Tibetan nomadic children.

Paul spoke to a few Tibetan men – who regarded sexual abuse rather common amongst the nomads and tent dwellers. I eventually managed to speak to our Tibetan guide, Dawa Tibetan, at the end of the Kora who confirmed that he had heard someone died. He didn’t know if it was the girl or an older woman! Yet someone was taken for a sky burial in the middle of the night, where the body is chopped and left to the crows and vultures. A blatant statement of the acceptance of impermanence. Dawa told me that nomads did not respect the life of their children and in turn grown children did not respect their aged parents. A life of crude survival: a large crack in my image of Tibet! This experience has been horrific for Paul who was the one closest to it. When I heard it I was mortified – where were the adults? The ones that knew what was going on? They were all around but did nothing constructive for the girl. My anger raged as I walked from this community and my sadness for the girl increased until I felt a few tears. I prayed that the father receive his retribution in this lifetime and I felt a peace descend after this. In Buddhist teaching all feelings of outrage should be felt and then I’m meant to release the attachment to the revulsion. So feel it but don’t let it take away peace of mind. I breathed and prayed and found release – if I’m meant to do something about this or similar incidents I will get the impetus spontaneously and then I will go forward. How much am I meant to do? Here it is presented to me; should I take up this cause. Can I or should I motivate anything? I decided that if I ended up writing a book than it would be dedicated to this cause: the Children in Tibet.

It was strange that this was the first night that I slept apart from Paul and Michael. For some reason I was protected from the full onslaught of this suffering. I decided again to trust and hand it over to my highest consciousness and let go and let God. Yet my reality had been adventure playing with children while Paul and Michael were experiencing horror. The polarities of life side by side. During my silent trek I began to practice what Pat my CT teacher taught me: relax the body, clear the mind and have an unfocused or soft gaze. No purposeful thinking or analysing – move into a meditative space. I added a mantra as I had my mala. I repeated: “om mai padme hum” and “om tara tetara ture so ha” over and over, 108 times according to the prayer bead of my mala. I was in awe once more of the state of things. The dramatic shapes, angles and deep colours of the mountain ranges, the extent of the landscape and the way Kailash showed herself suddenly between peaks, from behind her veil.

A group of Europeans and American passed me with a Tibetan nun leading them – she smiled directly at me and we connected again with big smiles. Soon they stopped to rest against a large boulder and as I passed the nun was the only one to give a big smile which I gleefully and shyly returned. I had not walked more than 3 metres, passed her when I felt a wave of sweet but dynamic energy flow over me – immediately tears sprung from my eyes and I felt blissful. My spontaneous thought was that the nun was in a high state of awareness and developed consciousness so as she wished me well I felt it. I calmed and smiled and then took a few more steps and here it was again – a warm and indescribable bliss. I allowed it to flow yet it passed in seconds. I turned and the nun was now walking behind me with her group. Whether it was her or not I will never know unless I found her. What else could it have been?

It was so opening and I was uplifted to receive this unseen gift.

I arrive at Diraphuk at 5010 metres (tomorrow we climb to 5600 metres!) and now I’m coping. I am feeling blissful and spent some time above the tiny temporary village next to a river flowing directly from Kailash which loomed in full view above me. I ate my packed lunch: biscuits, 2 small pea pies and a juice and I had some hot black sweet tea to make up the lack of food. I bathed my feet in the freezing stream and looked down on the activities. There was a monastery opposite across the river – yet somehow I think it had been China-fied. Silver instead of brass, and a modern lodge below it! Had these monks sold their souls? The Chinese obviously has woken up to Kailash being a potential money spinner. There is even a sign post indicating the monastery! (Most unusual to have any signs here – even on the roads). Diraphuk is a tent village for pilgrims in summer with a small dormitory in stone with “cells”. Each tiny cell has 6 beds – you have to climb over people to get to yours! Michael fortunately found the only free room (because he was so early in) with four beds and we rented the lot. Our room has red and yellow table clothes stuck on the ceiling and apparently the beds have foam mattresses thank goodness but so rickety that any of them may collapse during the night. We placed a rock against our door from very many staring Tibetans – especially the older folk: they just open our door and stand there looking and smiling…It’s really endearing but not when altitude and hours of trekking leaves you exhausted.

By 4pm 100s of pilgrims have arrived. A large Chinese or Japanese group and a large Indian group with over 50 yaks and horses between them. They all have their own tents and guides and cooks. The previous Indian group of 15 we saw – drove to the Chukka monastery valley (passed the ritualistic start) and then all set off on their own horse, each being lead by a Tibetan on foot and at least 10 yaks and attendants following. It was somehow an awful sight – they seemed so out of touch with what the Kora means. It’s almost like they wanted to go back to Bombay saying: “been there, done that, aren’t we awesome, God will reward us.” Where they doing it for other peoples admiration rather than for their own respect? Surely if it was heartfelt more sensitivity and care would be involved.

I saw a group of traditional Tibetan women arrive on foot all beautifully dressed in their traditional chubas with little bundles on their back, prostrating themselves humbly to the view of Kailash. The comparison was stark! I tried to withhold judgement as maybe there were some rich Indians with humble hearts in the previous group too. Right now Duraphuk is teaming with Tibetan made-up cowboys with more than a few ‘Brokeback mountain’ versions, with painted nails. Yaks are everywhere, horses, tents and people from all over the world, not what I would have expected. I was assuming there would be more Indian holy men and prostrating Tibetans. This is tour-group time. We plan to leave at first light at 5am to make it up the pass to our highest point of 5600 metres.

I’ll be looking for “sinner’s tunnel” where I can leave all my accumulated sins behind! This day was auspicious to me: the Dalai Lama’s birthday: 6 July and its his best year: the year of the Pig. I bowed and wished him well. I was climbing to the most sacred place, the highest plateau in my life on the Dali Lama’s birthday. I decided I would celebrate Jo’s birthday too which would be 2 days on. According to the Tibetans the year of the Horse is the most important pilgrimage year to Kailash and that’s in 5 years time.

Twelve years ago Robert Thurman, the acclaimed American Tibetan Buddhist circled Kailash. His book tells of impossible roads, landslides, avalanches, and people dying or getting sick in Snow storms. The danger of Khailash was high. Milarepa one of the revered saints of Tibet said a century ago; “Just to leave one’s homeland is to accomplish half the Dharma”. I am filled with new gratitude that Kailash and Tibet has treated me so safely.

While I lay relaxing in Diraphuk, Paul and Michael decided to see how high they could climb towards the north face of Kialash. It is forbidden to climb the mountain but it is possible to get closer to the foot. Holy men have said that the north face of the mountain has the most transforming energies. If a sincere heart wishes for anything, it’s said it will come true. I lay musing ….

There is suffering because life is brutal.
Yet even the sacred requires the crushing of our hearts.

There is no ‘holy’ moment – only those in which we pretend to see; Looking up we climb breathless and we climb to claim ourselves as if there is a new model shop. But how else can we battle with our hearts unless we out-manouver and tame the body, stressing to give in?
Stay at home if you only dream comfort & ease. There you will tear at your heart to hear it’s voice.
There you put aside the sacred that beats to be free.
Pilgrimage at best, offers us the hope of freeing our hearts and breaking its knot that prevents us from seeing that we have always been free.

A Poem for Michael:

I whisper, you whisper
I know your feeling
I grab it hoping I hear your words
Yet in this grasp I have
Lost the moment.
I have unleashed only my need

How can my need
hear your Voice.
And so I start again:
I let go and when you
Whisper I smile and
Allow the sensations to
Fill my body

And then I sigh them goodbye
Only to see you standing here
Looking at me, just you, not me
It is all of you,
How could I wish for more
And thereby lessen you

A POEM FOR ME
I cannot hear the voice of God;
Yet I cry with joy, in the presence
I cannot hear the voice of God;
Yet sometimes I know that my
Actions are not me;
I cannot hear the voice of God
Yet sometimes in a moment, a thought
Will come that is not me

Wait a moment and you will find
The last beginnings of something lost
There is no time at all
So why lament its passing
It is here right now
Everything, not a drop diluted.

Grieving keeps me trapped in
A past that we lived
Not knowing how to live
If today, you drag in yesterday
You only taint the wellness now

We have every second to
Strike the match that
Lights our soul
Every second to look
Anew and see all as we
Never have

No wrong is right nor
Is it wrong
Only if we judge it so
If every second of the
Universe is perfect in it’s
Timing, then who are we
To question the appearance
Of an act. It is all
Cause & effect playing out: The Dharma, the law of nature.

The Tibetan Love on the Kora: 6/7/2007

I look, you look
I know to look at you
Something pulls me in
I smile, you smile
You know too.

Then I pass and your look
Burns in my back
Your look carries with it
Your years of finding love
Your look is love
And it opens my heart.

I radiate your look
For awhile alive with
Your love as if feeling
Love for the first time
A love that only wishes
Me well

I wish you well too
And I know you know.
a letter to my sons…

Dearest James and Jo

This last week I have missed you both intensely. Today I cried because my heart was sore and I felt lonely without you two. I am glad for this experience but now I am ready to come home. Precisely because of you guys! – In fact you two are the only reason I would return now. Since I met dad when I was 23 I have never been away on my own this long. And my whole adult life, I have been a mum – so the longest we have been apart is a month during your holidays days with Dad.

James – with you it’s different because you took your gap year.

But really I think I kind of went into some kind of shock mourning for both of you last year – I was depressed for most of the year in 2006 and my work was minimal. I don’t tell you this to make you feel bad or responsible because you are not. I think all mums who love their children go through this in different ways – most often we don’t even know why. From 27-40 I was very involved with your lives so please understand it has been a tough adjustment. I love you both with all my heart. I write from a shabby little back room in a one horse town in Western Tibet.

I have two candles burning so that I can see and I’m tucked into my sleeping bag with a jersey around my neck. It’s very much like being in Khayaletsha here tonight. People just dumb their rubbish in the street. The street is basically mud with puddles of water. There are broken down cars, old baskets, boxes and things lying wasting in the street. The toilet is sometimes one longdrop normally there is none. I was so cold tonight that I didn’t even wash – just my face and hands and teeth. I have a thermos of hot water and a little bowl – it is so hard to keep warm when you wash with a cup! My nails are engraved with dirt that I can’t get out. My hands are whulled from the dryness and my thumb has split because of the dryness.

I feel really ‘mif’ tonight as I also have a slight cold – and I’m all on my own! The dogs of this township have already started barking and they will go on night! I ate so much food today: a packet biscuits, a packet nuts, yoghurt, melon, a pancake and honey, two bananas. Then still a full night meal. It’s so hard to find decent food so I end up eating bread and biscuits. Comfort food I suppose.
Night, miss you so, all my love Mum
XXX

(Notes: Tibet
Info from Henrich Harrier

1904 Young husband
Remote mysterious plateau;
Veil of secrecy until then penetrated by very few

1943 Harrer escaped from camp and traveled by foot as a fugitive to Lhasa
Met with great kindness;
Highest peak in Kailash area 25 000ft. Gurla Mandhata
Drelung in Lhasa was greatest monastery in the world with 10 000 monks: A city itself
Lhasa 12 000 ft

The life of the people were regulated by divine will – the gods must be continually entreated, placated or thanked p187

Dalai Lama: real name GyALPO RIMPOCHE: he fled for second and last time 1959. Chinese took over 1950; 1989 – Noble peace prize

1.2 million Tibetan died at hands of Chinese
10 000 monasteries / temples in Tibet >99% looted or destroyed

In Lhasa only 2% of original houses left.

Decades of destruction /suppression /genocide /sterilization
political indoctrination has broken the deep rooted religious belief. 329