By this time they were certain that he was a dog, of course. The collar and chains proved that. But who had ever seen a dog like this? With the long winter drawing to an end, Kelsang had begun to lose his heavy coat. The fur on his body had matted together like felt, making him look even larger than he really was — like a monster from the wilds.
After preparing a simple breakfast, Han Ma tried calling him.
Kelsang’s hunger was not as fierce as the day before. He could feel that these two men were different from the man with the dark cheeks and his waiter helpers. They had stood watching as he ate but hadn’t tried to force him to do anything. So that night, instead of running away, he had circled the tent, leaving his scent.
“He’s coming over.” Yang Yan watched in surprise as Kelsang stood up and walked toward them.
Kelsang stopped a few steps away from Han Ma. His smell was nothing like the sharp mixture of alcohol and cigarettes that came from the waiters. It was new and different. Kelsang was still keen on expanding his store of smells.
Han Ma was crouching down holding a sausage. But Kelsang had forgotten how to take food from a human hand. He hesitated. Should he teach this eager outstretched hand a lesson?
“Be careful. He could bite your whole hand off,” Yang Yan warned.
“Shhh,” said Han Ma, reaching out a bit farther.
Perhaps this movement overstepped some critical line for Kelsang, because he began to growl with his hair standing on end. He looked like a frightened seal baring its teeth.
“Be careful!” Once again, Yang Yan reached for the knife inside his bag.
“Don’t move.” Han Ma extended his hand farther still and opened it, exposing the sausage in his palm.
“I’m thinking this dog might have come from a nearby slaughterhouse. He doesn’t trust you one bit,” Yang Yan said, with a note of despair in his voice. He was waiting for Han Ma to start shrieking in pain.
There was some kind of force preventing Kelsang from ripping this man to shreds. He watched the two men closely. There was no way he was going to let either of them grab hold of his chains. He wasn’t going to be tied up like that again.
It took forever to get Kelsang to eat the sausage. They’d already been on the road for an hour by this time the previous day. When Kelsang finally felt comfortable enough, he stepped forward and gently licked the sausage out of Han Ma’s palm, letting it drop to the ground. His teeth made no contact with Han Ma’s skin. Then he looked up, his hazy, dust-swept eyes finally showing some warmth. This was a pleasant surprise to Han Ma, who had been whispering to him the whole time. The dog’s bush-like fur also began to settle back down.
Han Ma leaned farther toward Kelsang with an outstretched hand.
“Incredible,” Yang Yan breathed, the sun piercing his eyes.
Han Ma’s hand fell gently onto Kelsang’s bristly mane, which looked and felt like dry autumn twigs.
Kelsang had not stopped growling, but even in that there was a subtle change, as its pitch undulated faintly with the movement of Han Ma’s hand. He was so gentle, it was as if he was stroking a tiny seedling. As Han Ma’s hand moved to his neck, Kelsang surprised himself by letting out a contented snort. It was as if he was back tucked under his mother’s warm belly. He began to tremble uncontrollably. Not even Tenzin had ever stroked him there.
Han Ma felt Kelsang’s matted winter coat and carefully began to pull at the loose tufts that should have fallen out, each one making a squeaking sound and puffing dust into the air. It was like excavating an object long-buried underground. Kelsang’s old fur made a surprisingly large pile. Had it not been for this fur, he never would have survived the minus forty degree temperatures out on the exposed mountainside. The two men were amazed to discover such a magnificent dog underneath. His coat was a glossy blue black, so black that it shone. He was a rare beauty.
Han Ma began to tidy up the long fur that was caught under Kelsang’s broken collar. The metal was digging into his skin, and the screws at the joints had rusted. Han Ma took the Swiss army knife from Yang Yan, but the glinting metal made Kelsang nervous. Han Ma soon discovered that all he had to do was stroke him gently, and the dog would calmly lower his head. Using the small saw, Han Ma began to cut through the metal wires in the collar as Kelsang whimpered in fear and pain. After about ten minutes of careful sawing, the collar fell away.
Kelsang didn’t know what had happened until Han Ma stood up and flung the chains and collar on the ground. He shuffled back a few steps but didn’t shake his head to check that they were really gone. In fact, through some sort of trick of the brain, he could still feel the weight of the cold, heavy chains around his neck. When he did finally move his neck, he was shocked to discover how much lighter it felt. He began to run clumsily toward the open grasslands. It had been so long since he had been able to run freely, and in no time he disappeared over a small hill.
“Gone,” Yang Yan sighed, looking in the direction where Kelsang had vanished.
“So let him. But if he’s always been chained up, he won’t last long.”
The two men packed up the tent, tidied up all their things and loaded the jeep. They looked out again at the grass glinting in the midday sun, but there was no sign of Kelsang.
They drove back toward the road. The only reason they had left it the night before was to find water, and now they were forced to keep stopping to make sure that they were retracing the tire marks in the grass. After about ten minutes, they managed to find their way back.
But just as they started to pick up speed, a black shadow ran in front of them, bringing the jeep to a screeching halt. Everything loosely packed inside fell out of place, and the two men nearly went crashing headfirst through the windshield.
There he was, the black mastiff, full of vitality as the wind blew through his coat. This was a completely different dog from the ferocious gray one in chains they had first met.
“He’s come back!” Yang Yan said.
Kelsang didn’t care that the jeep had nearly knocked him over. He stood confidently, his eyes just half open. He wasn’t going to step aside.
“What does he want?” Yang Yan honked the horn twice, but the dog paid no attention and stayed just where he was.
“Maybe he wants to come with us.” Han Ma got out of the jeep and opened the back door.
Kelsang walked around, hopped in and settled on top of the tent in the back seat.
Yang Yan pulled up at a restaurant in a small town for lunch. Kelsang woke from his deep sleep — he hadn’t budged the whole way — jumped out and lay down in front of the jeep. All the other drivers in the restaurant gasped in admiration when they saw Kelsang. What a fine mastiff!
“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a guard,” said Han Ma, leaving the door unlocked.
6
PROTECTING THE ANTELOPE
WHAT IS IT THAT ENABLES the antelope to survive the plateau’s cruel winters? Beneath their thick fur is a layer of fur nearly seven times softer and more delicate than human hair and probably the world’s finest and warmest. But it is precisely this fur that means the antelope can no longer live in peace the way they used to, or rather man’s discovery of this fur has made it so. And now the entire species finds itself perilously close to extinction.
It didn’t take humans long to realize that these skins, first used as modest coverings, could, in fact, be much more. The fur could be woven into robes embellished with precious stones, and then came cashmere coats and pashmina scarves. It was a magic material, as light as feathers. A shawl two yards long could be pulled through a wedding ring, and yet the making of it meant the sacrifice of three antelope. And if one of these antelope was a mother with young to feed, even more lives would pay for the garment. But it is just this kind of sumptuous, exclusive clothing that draws attention to its owner.
Every year more than twenty thousand antelope are killed, an
d many of those are calving mothers and their young. They are skinned, and their hides are sent to Nepal and India. The smugglers will risk life and limb for the six hundred percent profit they can make on one animal. Then in old workshops, skilled craftsmen take the blood-spattered skins and turn them into beautifully woven masterpieces to be sent off to the so-called civilized corners of the world. There they are sold for as much as twenty thousand dollars as luxurious accessories for glamorous women.
This bloody trade has devastated the antelope population. In 1900, there were some million antelope freely wandering the plateau. Nowadays reports say the number is less than seventy-five thousand.
A response has been mounted. Teams have started roaming the grasslands, protecting the antelope from poachers. Some of these idealistic people came together to form an environmental protection team under the supervision of the Tibetan Autonomous Region Committee for the Protection of Antelope.
They were known across the region as the guardian angels of the Tibetan antelope, and within two weeks of their meeting, Han Ma, Yang Yan and Kelsang became the newest members.
A couple of days after meeting Kelsang, Han Ma and Yang Yan drove the cross-country jeep into the environmental protection station at Hoh Xil. As concerned environmentalists, they were donating the jeep to the cause.
The next day, Yang Yan and Han Ma became the first volunteers of the year to join the Antelope Protection Team’s tour of the plateau mountains. They were driving the very same jeep, but it now had the team’s name painted in red letters on the side. Two other members had joined them, so Kelsang had to be tied up in the narrow space between the rear windshield and the back seat.
Three vehicles drove into the grasslands of Hoh Xil. Stretching more than ten thousand miles across, they were almost empty of people and a paradise for wild animals. No one said much at first as they dealt with the effects of the altitude. The vehicles struggled up the mountains, much like the antelope. Now that the inspection had begun, one or two months of strenuous trekking lay before them, only to be interrupted by encounters with potentially violent poachers. Who knew what lay on the road ahead.
This was Han Ma and Yang Yan’s first inspection. Until now, they had only read about them in newspapers or on websites, or seen programs about them on TV. They were overjoyed to finally be in the thick of the action. Unable to control their excitement, they began to sing all the songs they could remember, resorting to nursery rhymes once they had exhausted their adult repertoire. Kelsang growled in accompaniment, filling in the moments of silence when the two men were catching their breath.
“What do these guys do, exactly?” asked one of the men in the vehicle behind. “They have so much energy.”
“Apparently one of them teaches kids with special needs and the other owns several large department stores. They’ve donated the jeep and thirty thousand yuan.”
“Why have they got that dog with them?”
“They said they picked it up on the way.”
“It’s a nice dog.”
During the first few days in Hoh Xil, the team was relaxed in a way they never had been before. They drove wherever they pleased across the virgin grasslands, without accident or breakdown to hold them up. As they drove farther in, they began to see wild donkeys. From a distance, these Tibetan donkeys looked very much like horses and could disappear with amazing speed, kicking up a cloud of dust.
It wasn’t until the third evening, as the sun was setting, that they spotted their first antelope. They had just driven over a small hill when they saw them. The three antelope ran off in the opposite direction, their shadows sweeping across the landscape like clouds driven by a strong wind. For most humans it’s a struggle to even walk at this altitude without shortness of breath and dizziness, yet these animals were remarkably graceful as they disappeared over a nearby hillock under the admiring gaze of the team.
But Kelsang was less interested in all this and didn’t stare out the window anxiously like Yang Yan and Han Ma. He had seen antelope before, and these three animals awakened a memory in him — that was all. It had been well over a year since he had left his pastures, and he still couldn’t fully comprehend all that had happened. These grasslands were more desolate than any he had lived on before, the spaces more open, with very few undulations in the topography. There was nothing between them and the distant horizon.
Kelsang still thought of his old pastures and his master, Tenzin, from time to time. It was like a reflex. He didn’t need to make comparisons between his birthplace and the streets of Lhasa or the village with the restaurant. Before he had used running to satisfy his hunger for company, but now he had exactly what he had been longing for — a master.
This young man, Han Ma — who had pulled off his old winter fur, who had undone his chains — this was his new master. There is no way of knowing when wolves first began to live with humans, but from that moment on, they took a separate path from all other wild animals. No doubt they sometimes wanted to return to the wild, but what they really needed was a master — someone they could invest all their love and loyalty in, a human soul to whom they could belong.
The moment a dog develops this feeling, it lasts their whole life. Kelsang wouldn’t let Han Ma out of his sight. Bumping along in the back of the jeep was deeply uncomfortable, but as long as he was with Han Ma, he was happy. He only allowed himself the luxury of sleeping after regularly checking that Han Ma was still in the front, gazing out at the landscape with a look of excitement on his face.
He mustn’t, he simply couldn’t, lose this master. Han Ma had been sent to him from heaven.
After choosing the location for that day’s campsite, Han Ma opened the jeep door and Kelsang bounded out. He circled Han Ma’s feet and then took off across the grasslands like a cheetah on the African plains at sunset, the landscape rising and falling like the folds of a giant’s clothing, his glossy black fur fluttering in the wind. Most of the Antelope Protection Team were Tibetan, and some had been herdsmen, so naturally they understood the mastiff’s value. They watched as Kelsang sped off toward the horizon only to return again at the same speed before rushing up to Han Ma, who was putting up his tent.
Kelsang carefully placed his front paws on Han Ma’s lower back, slowing the force of the momentum that had been carrying him forward. He knew that this amount of pressure would make Han Ma lose his balance and fall over without hurting him. He did this after some consideration, even though he didn’t know what would happen next. Somehow he couldn’t control himself. Love burned inside him, and he couldn’t stop it. Kelsang’s previous decisions had come from instinct or the wisdom of accumulated experience, but this time it was emotion driving him. Love. For this man.
Han Ma fell on top of the tent, collapsing it. Yang Yan, who was holding the other end, watched in surprise. Kelsang waited. He had no idea how his new master would react once he picked himself off the ground. If he shouted or told him to get lost, that would be the end for Kelsang.
Han Ma’s first thought was that one of the team had pushed him, but Yang Yan was standing in front of him, and the others didn’t know him well enough for this kind of prank. They didn’t seem the type, anyway.
He sat up in surprise and turned around. Kelsang was standing behind him with a look of expectation and a hint of confused puppy underneath his usual sleepy gaze.
The silence only lasted about a second before Han Ma started howling with laughter. He lunged toward Kelsang, threw his arms around his neck and dragged him to the ground.
Sunlight, the greenest grass, the warmest wind.
A new world opened up to Kelsang. Laughter, he understood. Humans only made this bright, rhythmic sound when they were happy. Whenever he had heard laughter out in the pastures, it meant that he was about to be given a piece of meat. But it was different this time. He couldn’t control the wave of emotion that made him tremble all over. He had never felt like this
before.
He barked in excitement, spinning around and throwing Han Ma off him. He jumped away before pouncing back on Han Ma as if he were a snow leopard or a wolf.
Yang Yan thought the dog had gone mad, and unsure what to do, he started shouting. The other members of the team had already taken their guns out of their backpacks.
But Han Ma wasn’t frightened.
Kelsang pretended to bite Han Ma’s hand, as if about to crunch through flesh and bone, but he just held the hand in his mouth. Underneath his mess of fur, his eyes were as calm as a lake warmed by the evening sun.
And so man and mastiff rolled around on top of the tent. Kelsang untangled himself and leapt to one side before jumping back on top of Han Ma. The spectators quickly understood that it was a game, and after a while, they went about their own tasks — lighting the fire, making dinner, fixing the jeeps rattled by the lack of road, putting up their tents.
“I thought you were being hurt!” Yang Yan exclaimed, as he grabbed one of the tent ropes.
“Stop!” said Han Ma, freezing like a basketball player in mid-dribble.
Kelsang stopped and lay down, panting. The look of pure joy was still in his eyes.
Playing like this was a completely new way for him to show his emotions. He had sort of played with Tenzin’s son, but only out of loyalty to his master. The boy had really just been another duty around the camp. He was like a lamb, and playing with him was no different from looking after the flock. But with Han Ma it was different.
“He looks at you with such loving devotion. It’s unbearable!” Yang Yan said.
After he finished putting up the tent, Han Ma changed the bandage he had put on Kelsang’s neck. The wound caused by the metal collar was healing nicely. A feeling of pure happiness enveloped Kelsang. Feeling completely relaxed, he lay down beside Han Ma, whimpering like a puppy.
The tussling game became an important ritual each day when they stopped to set up camp. One day the convoy came to an impassable section of road, and each car broke down, one after the other. The team members got out and began pushing their vehicles, taking on an armor of thick mud in the process. They were exhausted by the time they reached the campsite, and Han Ma could only think of crawling into his sleeping bag. But he could see the familiar glimmer in Kelsang’s eyes. He was waiting to play their game.
Black Flame Page 10
