January 8th, 2014

1.8.2014

We were supposed to go get Ama Dunmajhet but Karjam felt that there were still a few last touches on sprucing up the house before she arrived. It had snowed about an inch during the night, more than the dusting the previous night, and so I decided to get out from under K's feet and head out for some snowy photos. I headed toward the nearer temple, intending just to take a few photos as soon as I got high enough to have a good vantage point. My feet took me closer, still. As I was setting up my camera, I noticed a herd of yaks cresting the hill to my right, heading to the mountain to the left of the temple. I positioned to get the perfect shot of yaks in a row, stupa and temple buildings behind them, but the herd kept growing and growing until I was surrounded by over 100 quiet shuffling yaks, with a few horses, cows, and cross-bred yak-cow hybrids as well. It felt pretty magical, just me, the temple, a woman herding the yaks with a baby strapped to her chest, and far off in the distance some hardy souls who were already circling the stupa. The yaks didn't bother me in the slightest, as yaks are patient and intelligent animals accustomed to humans. The downside to the entire experience was that each time I turned on the camera, or turned it off, or adjusted the tripod settings, or took the lens cap off, or replaced the lens cap, or pressed the trigger button to take a shot my hands screamed with the cold. I bunched the fingers together inside the gloves, but it was deathly cold-- on my walk out the steam of my breath had caught my glasses and frozen-- I had to use my fingernail to scrape off the ice in a large enough spot to see through.

These look like 'projects' right? Might as well be. Shoddy construction by out-of-town (village) people for the locals who had never previously owned houses and didn't know how to spot shoddy construction. Really a tragedy, but 'settling' the nomads is part of Chinese policy...

Karjam and I had not lit the fire in the morning, but fortunately after a few minutes we headed to Zhyibuk's house, where the living area was, as usual, toasty warm. Tserdin and Hlamo were, however, conspicuously absent (Zhyibuk joked "they're gone so we don't have anything except tea and bread"). Shortly I was informed that they'd gone to Maqu so that Tserdin could get a hysterectomy. I am all for family planning, but this struck me as odd, both that the kids (3 and 5?) knew it (okay, maybe they didn't understand), and that Tibetans who live in rural areas are allowed 3 children under China's family planning policies, and they usually take advantage by having every allowed child.

In the warm house (the fire stoked by Banko in the absence of the women) I tried just taking off my boots and putting my sock feet near the stove, discreetly for a short time, then re-booting. Over half an hour later I realized that this had not worked, although it had brought feeling back to an acceptable level, so instead I had to strip off my socks and try again. In the meantime I goofed around with the kids and drank cup after cup of green tea. Zhyibuk's house is the only place that people ordinarily drink green tea of the places we usually visit. A different kind of tea that looks like it's made from the whole plant (sticks and all) of some bush is the usual type here, it's dark, heavily caffeinated, and often brewed with milk (this time of the year that means milk from pouches from the store, not fresh yak milk). We brew ours without milk and add milk for those who want it, but at many households I just choose to drink hot water.

We were supposed to move onwards from Zhyibuk's with water from the well for Tubko's household, but while we were there Ani Sanko (Ama Dunmajhet's sister) stopped by and asked Karjam to drive her daughter and daughter's family (who were visiting from Linxia, her husband is not Tibetan-- I couldn't tell if he (Ga Ping) was Han Chinese or Hui), with belongings, out to her son's nomad encampment. Karjam couldn't say no, but part of this process had to include hanging around at Ani Sanko's house while everything got prepared. Karjam doesn't like visiting her, because 1) she's a poor housekeeper 2) she's had a depressing string of bad luck 3) the combination of 1 and 2 pulls at your heartstrings. She is, however, fun and lively-- due to the Chinese speaking son-in-law she's picked up a little Chinese (although I can barely understand him, much less her), and she's super generous. I couldn't leave without a new string of prayer beads and a bowl/cup with the 8 auspicious Tibetan symbols on it, with a smidgen of butter (for richness), two apples, and two disks of bread. It took forever to get out of her icebox home, especially since her dog (not tied up) had recently had (at least three) puppies, and was extremely dangerous (except to Ani Sanko, meaning we all had to have her help us across the yard).

Ani Sanko

K and I then drove the family out to their camp, but on the way there Tsebae called. So, instead of heading to Tubko's to get Ama, we had to return to Ama's house, open the gate for Tsebae, help her sort her stuff, then drive her and her eldest to where her (string of expletives) husband was. Then at last we were able to drive out to Tubko's house. When we got there only Rinchin, Rinchin's deaf brother, Jolo, and Ama were there. After a lunch of tsampa, and afraid I wouldn't have another opportunity I insisted on walking out to the sky burial site. Jolo escorted me past the dog zone, then turned back. As I walked, I reflected on how much easier it had been when I rode to the site on horses with April and Karjam. Certainly long before I had arrived I felt toasty warm everywhere, even my fingers and toes. From a long distance away it was apparent that there were not that many new prayer flag arrays, that trends in how to erect the prayer flags had changed, and that the volume of total prayer flag displays had increased significantly. Last time I visited it seemed the newer style was to use a type of parasol or umbrella style, and flag trees were also common, but now there were two types of display dominating-- rows of thickly hung vertical flags, and extremely long flag strings across the gap between the steep hills lining the site. As I got closer I had to pick my footing with care-- tattered prayer flags, human bone, and shards of sutra-inscribed slate littered the ground. Stepping on or even over Tibetan writing is a huge offense, and I was sure without needing to be told that I should treat the bones with respect. Chanting "om mani padme hum" I gingerly explored the site, wondering which of the two newest displays had been erected for Apa Lorae. I took photos of the tattered prayer flags, and the newer ones, trying to do a decent job and leave quickly as I was worried that K and Ama would be waiting. Sure enough, when I crested the hill on the way back I was shortly greeted by Karjam blowing the truck's horn.

The sky burial site from a distance

This is what the parasols that I loved photographing a few years ago look like now

After stopping at Zhyibuk's to pick up two of Karjam's bags he'd been storing there for more safety (now that Ama is home, one of the three of us will generally be home, allowing for less worry about thievery-- a constant concern around here, whether it is of yak/sheep/horse rustling or more standard B&E.), we finally were able to show Ama Dunmajhet what we'd done to her house. Her reaction was as good as or even better than we'd hoped. She thought it was really beautiful and that it felt like a new home. More, she commented to Karjam that the changes meant she wouldn't be constantly faced by Apa Lorae's absence in the surroundings he'd once filled. She's never slept in the room we fixed up, but now she will. The color, the flooring, the hearth for the stove, all these things we did make it feel really different.

As it got dark K went and fetched Tubla and Ahyangtso from the Nyingma temple (the farther away temple). When Apa Lorae died he was not "done" with a series of Buddhist tasks--such as circling various temples, spinning various prayer wheels, and doing prostrations at various sites. The kids, especially the two girls, are finishing a lot of these tasks before the 49 days are up. They circled the large prayer hall at the Nyingma temple 500 times (total for both of them) and have to do another 500 the next day, to finish that task. I would have gone with K to get the girls but I was exhausted after all the activity of the day, and stayed home to cook. I made veggies for Tubla and I (Tubla is being mostly vegetarian these days!!!), and Ama cut up meat that I made into a big meat and noodle soup for the other three. The girls spent the night on Ama's old bed, going to sleep earlier and leaving Ama, K and I up around the stove, talking.

Even last time I came here it was impossible to find so many good veggies in Maqu. Now I dine like this! Nummy!

Death and Mourning in Tibet

All of us could learn from Tibetans and from Karjam's family something about how to handle death and mourning. It was amazing, absolutely amazing to me, as a Western person, how the family was able to deeply honor Apa Lorae, but also continue to be happy and full of laughter, and remember him in a really good way. Of course, each death is different, how a person dies and the life the person has lived really impacts how the survivors handle the death. In Apa Lorae's case he was diagnosed with advanced stomach cancer, already spread to the liver, in September. This gave the family some time to prepare, mentally and practically, for his passing. That time to prepare, obviously, helped everyone. I think Tibetans would kick Western ass at dealing with a death in the family in the case of a sudden death, too, but that was not what happened in this case.

By the end Apa Lorae was in a lot of pain, and very weak, only able to take a few spoonfuls of broth or milk. He had to ask someone to shift his body every twenty minutes or so, and according to Karjam, not everyone was able to do it to his satisfaction, so in those last weeks Karjam was by his side, especially all night long, as Apa Lorae only slept a few minutes at a time, to help him. He retained his mental acuity until the morning of his death, and Karjam had some very touching stories of the things he said. Although he had been living in a house in the village, when he was preparing to die they moved him to Tubko (his second son)'s winter house in the grasslands-- a house where at night the yaks were tied up, and the sheep gathered close. He spent a lot of time on the glassed-in porch, looking out across the grasslands, and soaking in the sun (the Tibetan sun is very very bright and if you're protected from the wind, such as on a glassed-in porch, even with single pane glass, during the day you'll stay quite warm in the sun). As had been his lifelong habit he was able to continue fingering his prayer beads, and spinning a hand-held prayer wheel. Monks also came and visited and chanted with him, a lama placing his hand on Apa Lorae's head and chanting-- in other words he prepared well for his death. The day before his death it was one of those gorgeous mornings where temperature inversion causes a fog to lift off the land and swirl in the sun, making the landscape magical. Karjam told his dad how it looked, and his dad told him "dear one, you must take a photo." This touched Karjam very deeply, because he felt that even as he was too weak to move on his own, his father was thinking outside his own reality (he's never used a camera in his life), and placing himself within Karjam's world and the things that were of importance to Karjam.

On the morning of his death Karjam saw a sudden change in him, physically, and was able to call together most of the family to be there as he took his last breaths (there was a little less than an hour between when they called everyone and the actual passing). At this point he no longer appeared to be mentally engaged with his surroundings, but the family held him and Tubko chanted the long form of the mantra for Tara very loudly, telling Apa Lorae to hold on to the sound of his voice. Karjam was very complimentary about how perfectly his brother did this-- the exact words someone should have in their ears as they pass to the next realm. Contrast that with wailing and crying and you have a very powerful image, just in that moment.

After someone dies there are 49 days during which they have not yet moved onto their next life, and during those days the business of their life needs to be settled (as well as all the funeral processes taken care of). The first 21 days are the most important of those days. I arrived in Ahwencang on the 20th day, so I missed most of this.

The body (after death) could not be touched by any of Apa Lorae's children, because symbolically this is equated with having killed your father. Two people were selected to take care of this process, one of whom was chosen by Apa Lorae himself, Dorsey (son of Zhyibuk, Apa Lorae's first son). Dorsey is full of failings, and I am so mad at him on some levels (as are others in the family), but he had a very close bond with Apa Lorae and his heart is very good. He and another relative prepared the body (and later they had to be specially spiritually cleansed). Karjam described how Dorsey was extremely protective of Apa Lorae's body, making sure that something that might hurt a live person did not happen to him in death (protecting from bumps in the road when they drove the body to Xiahe to be cremated, for example). They did decide to cremate the body, a decision that Apa Lorae made with them, because even though Tubko's house is on the land with the sky burial site in Ahwencang, unlike other areas of Tibet there is no special person who is a "body breaker" to prepare the body to be eaten by vultures, instead in Ahwencang family members (but not children) take this job. It's emotionally not easy. Karjam's family, relatively modern, opted for cremation and spreading his ashes at a lot of sites, including the sky burial site in Ahwencang, where they also ritually erected a prayer flag offering for Apa Lorae (around the 10th day, I'm not exactly sure). That prayer flag offering is the closest thing to a headstone he will have.

According to everyone Ama Dunmajhet cried once after Apa Lorae's death, when something that one visitor said really struck home for her. A large number of people who felt the need continually visit the house (especially during the first 21 days) after the death to offer their support to the family, and express their love of the deceased. It's very bad form if certain people do not visit, certainly the family is not left alone, nor do people just bring a casserole and then quickly leave after an awkward and strained silence. The family is constantly entertaining for those 21 days. People may speak of how great the deceased was, and the deceased can be the topic of conversation, or not.

Although people don't bring casseroles, they can support the family by bringing meat (carcasses, or parts of carcasses) because during the YEAR after his death the family cannot kill or sell any of their animals. They can buy meat, and eat meat, but they cannot kill. This, of course, is quite inconvenient when you have to provide meat for all the guests that keep coming, and all the monks performing different ceremonies (such as that already described on this blog). I was rather fascinated with the no-kill idea, and kept trying to figure out who it extended to. It's a bit of a grey area. Definitely all the households of all Apa Lorae's children (that's 8 households) and the grandchildren who have lived with him (none of those have independent households yet) are included, but whether or not other grandchildren (many of whom do have independent households) are included is less defined. I never asked if his sister's household (he only had one sibling, Jabu's mother) would also be on the no-kill list. I also wondered what happened if then another family member died before one year was up. Would a nomad family with an increasingly large herd be prevented from killing or selling (that's their source of income) any animals for two years? [This is a tangent, sorry.]

After someone dies a special monk (not a lama), who has extensive training will determine what sort of life they've lived and what sort of ceremonies and chants are needed to atone for any problems with their life to help prepare them for a good rebirth. I kept trying to push Karjam to give me more information about how this monk would know-- "do they ask the family if he lived a good life?" but what Karjam knew was that the monk was able to calculate this based on spiritual powers, more or less. Apparently no one ever thinks this has been done "wrong." In the case of someone like Apa Lorae, well known for being generous and unconcerned with material wealth (he never learned to tell one piece of money from another), as well as an extremely ardent Buddhist (taking pilgrimages, circumambulating the temple, chanting constantly), the various ceremonies the monks needed to do were relatively "easy" -- the types of things that many monks are authorized to do (not more advanced and specialized ceremonies). A neighbor died while I was in Ahwencang and Karjam said he heard that family was having a really hard time because the ceremonies they needed monks to do were very hard to find monks for, often needing lamas to lead them, and that was expensive and difficult to organize, and the family was scrambling to get it all done during the 21 days (and might not be able to).

I think that being so busy dealing with guests and ceremonies helps to keep the family from dwelling on loss in a bad way. Western death needs more ceremony! It needs more acknowledgement. Don't just send that family home from the funeral to dwell and fester on what they forgot to say or do during the departed's lifetime! Also Apa Lorae meant to finish certain Buddhist tasks (spinning a certain prayer wheel at the temple X number of times, or circumambulating a certain prayer hall at another temple X number of times, or doing X number of prostrations at X site) and didn't, so these tasks were taken by the family to be finished during the 49 days, as a sort of last gift to Apa Lorae, they were doing these instead of him to help him acquire even more merit for his rebirth. I feel like these actions helped in the mourning process, too. Especially Tubko's children were very active with this (Tubko's family is the family line, the family that has taken over Apa Lorae's herd, etc. and that he's lived with). Having something to do for the dead after they've left is another really good thing the Tibetans have that Western culture doesn't. I do 108 prostrations a day for Apa Lorae. This is not a lot, per se, but it has been tough at times (when I'm sick, when I'm on the road). The prostrations allow me to think on Apa Lorae and actively and intently visualize his wonderful rebirth. Apa Lorae was one of the best people I've ever met, and so close to attaining enlightenment, so just perfectly good, so I've been hoping that in his next life he has the opportunity to really focus on spiritual cultivation.

Final point I want to make, since I've been writing this when I need to get work done now that I'm back in Korea, is that the family is fine. They're still happy. They lost Apa Lorae, but at his age (first half of his 70s), and due to the time to prepare after the diagnosis, they accept it as natural (when first diagnosed Karjam was really upset, because he felt he'd screwed up by not getting his father fully checked in order to detect something in advance). For them death is a serious thing, with ritual and rules that will govern their lives for the next year, but life goes on, not as some tear-soaked tragedy, but with beautiful memories. I spent that time with Karjam's family and never once did I feel an aura of sadness, pain, or grief. Days after they've lost the family patriarch, and no grief. There is a lot we can learn from that.

*   Below, yet more momo are prepared for yet more guests.

Ahyangtso

21st Day Funeral Celebration, Post I

12/30/2013

In the morning as soon as we awoke we proceeded to Tubko (2nd brother, older than K)'s winter house (the family seat, where Apa Lorae died) to get to work. Or mostly I stood around, non-integrated into what was going on, and being more of a pest by asking to be given tasks than just staying out of the way. I did make myself a big hot cup of coffee which expelled a headache that had been threatening to take over my entire noggin. Thanks be for the healing power of coffee.

When we got there Rinchin and Jolo were still collecting Yak dung from the previous night

Damdentso and Ama Dunmajhet at the start of the day

A huge influx of people came to help. I didn't recognize some of them, Karjam said they were the sons of the patriarchs of the 34 households that make up the 'community' (a formal community that one cannot just move into or out of, having less to do with locality than historic ties and including the households of three of Karjam's siblings but not all), because today was going to be so much actual work that the sons were sent by the fathers. They worked on butter lamps (this had been started the day before, when 400 butter lamps were prepared), cleaned, reorganized the Buddhist ritual room, cooked (a heaping pile of momo -- meat filled dough-pockets to be steamed-- were made, meat was boiled on the bone, soup was made) and people spent quite a lot of time talking with each other (more sitting around and talking if they were older). I only had one long conversation with a person other than Karjam-- a relative who is nearing the end of high school (in his early twenties), who claimed a great interest in all things foreign. The people I felt closest to who were there were much too busy to stop and entertain me. The most delightful person present was clearly Tsela's illegitimate daughter who is being raised by Munjer and Darkojhet (Tsela's mother, Karjam's sister who is my age-mate). Reukshijhet is bright, social, very precocious, and cute as a freaking button.

Karjam and Reukshijhet

See how charming she is? 

The hazards of cooking outside. A sheep comes to try to steal food from Rinchin (but she's just pouring off tea)

When the lambs don't survive, they get skinned and given to the dogs. The skins are tanned, wool on. If a sheep dies with a lamb, they try to graft the motherless lamb onto a ewe who has lost her lamb. It sometimes works. 

Norzun (youngest sister), who has changed her name to Damdentso (to avoid her physical ailments, and her youngest son loudly reminds anyone who screws up of the new name, that of a healthy person), came with clothes for me to wear while I'm here, several of the things she brought were totally sweet/necessary-- a lower back-wrap made of lined silk, a fancy belt (mine are on Lopez), and work gloves. I had a chance to talk to Ama Dunmajhet about Apa Lorae, and how much my family and all Karjam's friends in the US are supporting her and sending good wishes. She has been eating only one meal per day as a fast (it's lunch, right at noon, as has Ahyangtso) since Apa Lorae passed.

Damdentso and her youngest son.

All the people (close to 30) spent the day preparing for the monks to come, which they finally did around 3pm. Today is the 21st day since Apa Lorae's death, and a crucial day (the first 21 of 49 days are all important, but this marks the end of the 21 days and hence is special). No one (including Karjam) really understood about the ceremony that day, so when I watched it I mostly understood that it was a day when 1,000 was important- burning 1,000 butter lamps, making 1,000 tsampa statues (I'll explain more in a second), etc. but the entire ritual was overseen by Karsang Danzen, Karjam's double first cousin (Jabu's younger brother), and later I got a chance to grill him about it, so I will describe it here with the extra benefit of that knowledge, not present in my actual diary entry from the 30th.

Tubko's oldest (illegitimate) son, and Zhyibuk's oldest legitimate son. 

Damdentso, Rinchin, and Tsebae

Many guests means a lot of tea and hot water going at once

So, burning the butter lamps was a big part of the day. The family wanted to find 1,000 lamps, but couldn't, so they instead burned 500 lamps twice. The lamps were all burned in the actual room/place where Apa Lorae died, the ante-room to the Buddhist Room, and by the end of the day the walls were nearly black with soot. During the day the heat was so intense, it was hard to walk through the room, but someone (a young man) had to stay inside the room the entire day to monitor the lamps and take care of things (as each first round lamp burned out it had to be quickly cleaned, re-wicked, re-buttered, cooled until the butter was hard, and circulate back into the room). Lamps could not go out before they were done, and the heat could make wicks droopy, so there was a lot of monitoring of lamps. One had to cover one's mouth to do this work, or to go near the lamps, out of respect.

Karjam helps line up the lamps for burning

Butter melting in a teapot next to other teapots on the stove

Before the lamps were lit, they were ritually purified with juniper smoke

Dorsey (1st brother's oldest legitimate son) pouring butter into the lamps

Lamps being lit (using incense sticks)

Ending the first round of 500 lamps

Onto the second round

Monitoring half the candles (the rest are to his left). The barrier is trying to keep drafts from blowing them out and also trying to direct the heat a little. 

[this is the first post of two detailing everything from this day, please read the second post, too]