2014년 12월 4일 목요일

Among the Tibetan 3

Among the Tibetan 3


CHAPTER IV

 

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS

 

 

Joldan, the Tibetan British postmaster in Leh, is a Christian of

spotless reputation. Every one places unlimited confidence in his

integrity and truthfulness, and his religious sincerity has been

attested by many sacrifices. He is a Ladaki, and the family property was

at Stok, a few miles from Leh. He was baptized in Lahul at twenty-three,

his father having been a Christian. He learned Urdu, and was for ten

years mission schoolmaster in Kylang, but returned to Leh a few years

ago as postmaster. His 'ancestral dwelling' at Stok was destroyed by

order of the wazir, and his property confiscated, after many

unsuccessful efforts had been made to win him back to Buddhism.

Afterwards he was detained by the wazir, and compelled to serve as a

sepoy, till Mr. Heyde went to the council and obtained his release. His

house in Leh has been more than once burned by incendiaries. But he

pursues a quiet, even course, brings up his family after the best

Christian traditions, refuses Buddhist suitors for his daughters,

unobtrusively but capably helps the Moravian missionaries, supports his

family by steady industry, although of noble birth, and asks nothing of

any one. His 'good morning' and 'good night,' as he daily passed my tent

with clockwork regularity, were full of cheery friendliness; he gave

much useful information about Tibetan customs, and his ready helpfulness

greatly facilitated the difficult arrangements for my farther journey.

 

[Illustration: A CHANG-PA WOMAN]

 

The Leh, which I had left so dull and quiet, was full of strangers,

traffic, and noise. The neat little Moravian church was filled by a

motley crowd each Sunday, in which the few Christians were

distinguishable by their clean faces and clothes and their devout air;

and the Medical Mission Hospital and Dispensary, which in winter have an

average attendance of only a hundred patients a month, were daily

thronged with natives of India and Kashmir, Baltis, Yarkandis, Dards,

and Tibetans. In my visits with Dr. Marx I observed, what was confirmed

by four months' experience of the Tibetan villagers, that rheumatism,

inflamed eyes and eyelids, and old age are the chief Tibetan maladies.

Some of the Dards and Baltis were lepers, and the natives of India

brought malarial fever, dysentery, and other serious diseases. The

hospital, which is supported by the Indian Government, is most

comfortable, a haven of rest for those who fall sick by the way. The

hospital assistants are intelligent, thoroughly kind-hearted young

Tibetans, who, by dint of careful drilling and an affectionate desire to

please 'the teacher with the medicine box,' have become fairly

trustworthy. They are not Christians.

 

In the neat dispensary at 9 a.m. a gong summons the patients to the

operating room for a short religious service. Usually about fifty were

present, and a number more, who had some curiosity about 'the way,' but

did not care to be seen at Christian worship, hung about the doorways.

Dr. Marx read a few verses from the Gospels, explaining them in a homely

manner, and concluded with the Lord's Prayer. Then the out-patients were

carefully and gently treated, leprous limbs were bathed and anointed,

the wards were visited at noon and again at sunset, and in the

afternoons operations were performed with the most careful antiseptic

precautions, which are supposed to be used for the purpose of keeping

away evil spirits from the wounds! The Tibetans, in practice, are very

simple in their applications of medical remedies. Rubbing with butter is

their great panacea. They have a dread of small-pox, and instead of

burning its victims they throw them into their rapid torrents. If an

isolated case occur, the sufferer is carried to a mountain-top, where he

is left to recover or die. If a small-pox epidemic is in the province,

the people of the villages in which it has not yet appeared place thorns

on their bridges and boundaries, to scare away the evil spirits which

are supposed to carry the disease. In ordinary illnesses, if butter

taken internally as well as rubbed into the skin does not cure the

patient, the _lamas_ are summoned to the rescue. They make a _mitsap_, a

half life-size figure of the sick person, dress it in his or her clothes

and ornaments, and place it in the courtyard, where they sit round it,

reading passages from the sacred classics fitted for the occasion. After

a time, all rise except the superior _lama_, who continues reading, and

taking small drums in their left hands, they recite incantations, and

dance wildly round the _mitsap_, believing, or at least leading the

people to believe, that by this ceremony the malady, supposed to be the

work of a demon, will be transferred to the image. Afterwards the

clothes and ornaments are presented to them, and the figure is carried

in procession out of the yard and village and is burned. If the patient

becomes worse, the friends are apt to resort to the medical skill of the

missionaries. If he dies they are blamed, and if he recovers the _lamas_

take the credit.

 

At some little distance outside Leh are the cremation grounds--desert

places, destitute of any other vegetation than the _Caprifolia horrida_.

Each family has its furnace kept in good repair. The place is doleful,

and a funeral scene on the only sunless day I experienced in Ladak was

indescribably dismal. After death no one touches the corpse but the

_lamas_, who assemble in numbers in the case of a rich man. The senior

_lama_ offers the first prayers, and lifts the lock which all Tibetans

wear at the back of the head, in order to liberate the soul if it is

still clinging to the body. At the same time he touches the region of

the heart with a dagger. The people believe that a drop of blood on the

head marks the spot where the soul has made its exit. Any good clothing

in which the person has died is then removed. The blacksmith beats a

drum, and the corpse, covered with a white sheet next the dress and a

coloured one above, is carried out of the house to be worshipped by the

relatives, who walk seven times round it. The women then retire to the

house, and the chief _lama_ recites liturgical passages from the

formularies. Afterwards, the relatives retire, and the corpse is carried

to the burning-ground by men who have the same tutelar deity as the

deceased. The leading _lama_ walks first, then come men with flags,

followed by the blacksmith with the drum, and next the corpse, with

another man beating a drum behind it. Meanwhile, the _lamas_ are praying

for the repose and quieting of the soul, which is hovering about,

desiring to return. The attendant friends, each of whom has carried a

piece of wood to the burning-ground, arrange the fuel with butter on the

furnace, the corpse wrapped in the white sheet is put in, and fire is

applied. The process of destruction in a rich man's case takes about an

hour. During the burning the _lamas_ read in high, hoarse monotones, and

the blacksmiths beat their drums. The _lamas_ depart first, and the

blacksmiths, after worshipping the ashes, shout, 'Have nothing to do

with us now,' and run rapidly away. At dawn the following day, a man

whose business it is searches among the ashes for the footprints of

animals, and according to the footprints found, so it is believed will

be the re-birth of the soul.

 

Some of the ashes are taken to the _gonpos_, where the _lamas_ mix them

with clay, put them into oval or circular moulds, and stamp them with

the image of Buddha. These are preserved in _chod-tens_, and in the

house of the nearest relative of the deceased; but in the case of 'holy'

men, they are retained in the _gonpos_, where they can be purchased by

the devout. After a cremation much _chang_ is consumed by the friends,

who make presents to the bereaved family. The value of each is carefully

entered in a book, so that a precise return may be made when a similar

occasion occurs. Until the fourth day after death it is believed to be

impossible to quiet the soul. On that day a piece of paper is inscribed

with prayers and requests to the soul to be quiet, and this is burned by

the _lamas_ with suitable ceremonies; and rites of a more or less

elaborate kind are afterwards performed for the repose of the soul,

accompanied with prayers that it may get 'a good path' for its re-birth,

and food is placed in conspicuous places about the house, that it may

understand that its relatives are willing to support it. The mourners

for some time wear wretched clothes, and neither dress their hair nor

wash their faces. Every year the _lamas_ sell by auction the clothing

and ornaments, which are their perquisites at funerals[1].

 

[1] For these and other curious details concerning Tibetan customs I am

indebted to the kindness and careful investigations of the late Rev. W.

Redslob, of Leh, and the Rev. A. Heyde, of Kylang.

 

The Moravian missionaries have opened a school in Leh, and the wazir,

finding that the Leh people are the worst educated in the country,

ordered that one child at least in each family should be sent to it.

This awakened grave suspicions, and the people hunted for reasons for

it. 'The boys are to be trained as porters, and made to carry burdens

over the mountains,' said some. 'Nay,' said others, 'they are to be sent

to England and made Christians of.' [All foreigners, no matter what

their nationality is, are supposed to be English.] Others again said,

'They are to be kidnapped,' and so the decree was ignored, till Mr.

Redslob and Dr. Marx went among the parents and explained matters, and a

large attendance was the result; for the Tibetans of the trade route

have come to look upon the acquisition of 'foreign learning' as the

stepping-stone to Government appointments at ten rupees per month.

Attendance on religious instruction was left optional, but after a time

sixty pupils were regularly present at the daily reading and explanation

of the Gospels. Tibetan fathers teach their sons to write, to read the

sacred classics, and to calculate with a frame of balls on wires. If

farther instruction is thought desirable, the boys are sent to the

_lamas_, and even to the schools at Lhassa. The Tibetans willingly

receive and read translations of our Christian books, and some go so far

as to think that their teachings are 'stronger' than those of their

own, indicating their opinions by tearing pages out of the Gospels and

rolling them up into pills, which are swallowed in the belief that they

are an effective charm. Sorcery is largely used in the treatment of the

sick. The books which instruct in the black art are known as 'black

books.' Those which treat of medicine are termed 'blue books.' Medical

knowledge is handed down from father to son. The doctors know the

virtues of many of the plants of the country, quantities of which they

mix up together while reciting magical formulas.

 

[Illustration: CHANG-PA CHIEF]

 

I was heartily sorry to leave Leh, with its dazzling skies and abounding

colour and movement, its stirring topics of talk, and the culture and

exceeding kindness of the Moravian missionaries. Helpfulness was the

rule. Gergan came over the Kharzong glacier on purpose to bring me a

prayer-wheel; Lob-sang and Tse-ring-don-drub, the hospital assistants,

made me a tent carpet of _yak's_ hair cloth, singing as they sewed; and

Joldan helped to secure transport for the twenty-two days' journey to

Kylang. Leh has few of what Europeans regard as travelling necessaries.

The brick tea which I purchased from a Lhassa trader was disgusting. I

afterwards understood that blood is used in making up the blocks. The

flour was gritty, and a leg of mutton turned out to be a limb of a goat

of much experience. There were no straps, or leather to make them of, in

the bazaar, and no buckles; and when the latter were provided by Mr.

Redslob, the old man who came to sew them upon a warm rug which I had

made for Gyalpo out of pieces of carpet and hair-cloth put them on

wrongly three times, saying after each failure, 'I'm very foolish.

Foreign ways are so wonderful!' At times the Tibetans say, 'We're as

stupid as oxen,' and I was inclined to think so, as I stood for two

hours instructing the blacksmith about making shoes for Gyalpo, which

kept turning out either too small for a mule or too big for a

dray-horse.

 

I obtained

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