by Marco Pallis
A message came from Kino Tulku that he had found a man who knew all about Lower Kongpo; he was prepared to act as our guide if I did not object to his bringing his wife with him. I gladly accepted their services provided that he was really aquainted with the terrain. He was due to arrive on September 13 but did not turn up on that or the following day. Meanwhile we had completed our preparations and I sent some men up the pass to clear the snow. They found that much of it had already melted and told me that everything was in good condition for the crossing.
1. While in this place I wrote a poem, an English translation of which, by my friend John Blackwood, appears in this text (see Song of the Wanderer in Powo Valley).
SEVENTEEN
Days of Crisis
IDECIDED THAT if the guide and his wife did not arrive before two o’clock we should start by ourselves. This we did and reached the snow line without them. The weather was very clear; high up as we were, we could even see the mountains near Nyewo. For the first time I felt a conviction that we were going the right way and would reach India; I was aware of an inner strength guiding me and felt that I was not alone.
We waited in the cold till the next day and when I went around the various groups, I found that they were eating too much of their precious food; so I had to speak to them all very seriously, explaining that the food we were carrying would have to last a long time if we were to survive; also that they must be much more careful when camping to conceal themselves as much as possible and in no case to light any fires unless they could be screened from view. In future I myself would tell them if fires could be lighted at all. Furthermore I said, “Our journey to India must be thought of as a pilgrimage; something that in the past few Tibetans have been able to make. Whether or not India has changed, the spiritual blessings imparted to that country by the presence of the Buddha remain: The places where he lived, freed himself from the bondage of samsara, taught, and died have an eternal value. It is fortunate for us that our way is hard and that we are struggling against greater difficulties than the pilgrims of the past, for by this means we shall learn and profit the more from our journey. We should not be thinking only about the enemies threatening us from without. Each moment we should be aware of ourselves and of the forces of destruction that threaten each man from within. If we fail in this, we are indeed putting the spiritual object of our journey in jeopardy; each step along the way should be holy and precious to us.”
After this talk we all watched for the guide, but there was no sign of him, so I decided to go on without him the following day as the weather was not very good. At nightfall, however, he and his wife suddenly appeared wearing their Kongpo costumes. I had asked for him to bring some more of these garments, but he had not been able to obtain any. The guide’s name was Tsepa, he was a nice fellow and appeared to be intelligent; above all, he had traveled all over the area and knew it from end to end. He said how sorry he was that he had not been able to reach us on the appointed day, but he had had to sell all his possessions; he brought a gun and ammunition with him. I explained to him the route we proposed to take following the suggestions of various local people and he agreed that it was feasible; indeed he considered our prospects hopeful. Early the next morning we set out in a scatter of snow. We found that the pass was not so steep as had been expected and the new snow had turned into ice, which made it easier to walk on. When we reached the top everyone shouted the customary Tibetan formula “Lha gyal lo!” (“The gods are victorious!”).
We were now facing toward India and beyond us lay the valley of Tong Gyuk, which appeared to be empty, though we were still apprehensive lest some Communists might be lurking there. Our party was so conspicuous in their dark clothes against the white snowy background, I could only hope that they would not be spotted as they moved down. I told them that at least they must make as little noise as possible. The wind was against us and it was very cold; the sun seemed to give out no heat. If we could go farther down the valley and cross over the mountain range toward Lower Kongpo it would be the easiest way, so I sent some of our people ahead to find out if this was possible. While they were away, we camped at the foot of the pass. On their return they told me that they had not seen any Chinese, nor anyone else, but there were a few footprints of Tibetans, obviously old ones. We had several days of pleasant walking through the valley, though always feeling a little uneasy lest our large party might somehow have been spotted by the Communists. When we camped at night we always chose a small secluded branch valley where there were herdsmen’s huts, for this part was at a high altitude with very few trees and was used in the early summer as a grazing ground. Now, in late September, there were a lot of small yellow berries on the trees near the river which though acid could be eaten. As we went down the slope of the valley we came into a region of fir trees; seeing fresh footprints we decided to halt in the scrub under the trees. I sent Tsepa to investigate and told him to go into the villages pretending to be a messenger from relatives of some of the people there. The villagers gave him a lot of information about the number of Chinese in the vicinity of Lower Kongpo, and told him how strictly they were guarding the place; though people were still able to barter their barley in the surrounding districts the whole district was in a state of persecution, so they said. Anyone who had been sufficiently wealthy to have a servant was ill-treated; servants were encouraged to wear their master’s clothes and the masters made to wear those of their servants. The Communists had established working camps for their prisoners and forced them to labor on road making. A great number of Tibetans had died of starvation and other hardships, so the villagers lived in the utmost terror all the time. Tsepa managed to learn more about the layout of the land and what route we could follow; he also procured a small extra quantity of food.
From here I sent a second messenger to Tsethar’s group to tell Akong Tulku where we were and the probable route that we intended to take. We went on down the valley and camped by a lake. It was so beautiful here that in spite of possible danger we could not resist choosing this site; the weather was however becoming colder. Our journey the next day was uphill; we gradually reached barer ground with more rocks and fewer trees, and the valley was becoming narrower; for several days the same sort of country lay before us. One morning we heard a man’s voice; some of our party rushed off rifle in hand as far as a small bridge we had just crossed. It turned out to be Bursar Tsethar with another monk. They told us that Akong Tulku was following close behind. Their party had sold most of their possessions and had been joined by about 120 more refugees who had insisted on coming with Akong Tulku. Tsethar said that they all wished to join our party. He approved of our plans and agreed that we had chosen the right route; on the other hand, he thought that a rescue operation might be organized from the Indian side to include all the refugees, so perhaps it would have been better if we had waited for this to happen. Since the weather was still good, however, we decided to go on. The valley proved to be longer than we had expected and we camped again in the shelter of herdsmen’s huts where we could have really good fires. We made the attempt to cross the pass over the high mountains very early the next morning, but were only able to get about a quarter of the way when it started to snow; the storm was so severe that we were brought to a standstill. However, we found some more huts where we could stop for a day and a night. In the afternoon some of our men struggled on to see how far up the pass they could go. They reported that the snow was terribly deep, much worse than the Tso-phu Pass. I arranged that eight of our strongest men should hand over their baggage and try to make a track through the snow which we could follow. They found that they could make no headway when walking and the only way was for a man to lie prone so as to push the snow down with his weight. This was extremely exhausting and each man could only do this particular job five consecutive times, then it was taken over by the next man, and so on as each man’s turn came round again; the others followed to tread down the track. The actual incline of the mountain was so steep tha
t we almost had to turn back, for it did not allow of our making a zigzag track. As it was, the rest of our party managed to struggle after the leaders. When we had nearly reached the top, we saw a large group coming behind us in the valley; we took it for granted that this must be Akong Tulku’s party. By the time we reached a plateau, it was midday. We found ourselves surrounded by further rocks and making our way between them came suddenly upon a yet steeper gradient. However, at this great height the snow had hardened and this made the going slightly easier. It was difficult for the leaders to keep to the right track; several times they strayed off the path followed by the rest of the party, which meant that we all had to retrace our steps. However, at last we saw the prayer flag showing that we had reached the summit. The sun had already set and only a red glow remained; the wind was piercingly cold. The valley below seemed uninhabited, though we could not see very clearly as there were so many rocks in the way. Some of our party had fallen a long way behind; I felt anxious for the older people in case they had to spend the night in the snow. I knew that they could not have climbed any quicker, they had done magnificently by keeping up such a regular pace. We checked the list of families and felt sure that the younger members would look after their parents. All those who had reached the summit now started to walk down in the twilight. We saw a path of even ground below us, but had some difficulty in finding a way to reach it, being continually confronted with sudden rocky outcrops. A lot of loose stones got dislodged and the people in the rear had to shout a warning to those who were pressing ahead, for we had scattered in all directions, with each man trying to find his own way down. It was all but dark when the leaders reached a level piece of ground where we could stop for the night. There was an overhanging rock which offered shelter for some of us and my people insisted on giving me the best place; many others were forced to lie down in the snow. At sunrise we watched for the rest of the party. I feared that there might have been some casualties among the older members and was very happy to learn that everyone had survived. Once we were all together again we started down the valley, though everyone was pretty well exhausted after the hardships of the night before, but we felt we must struggle on since time and food were running very short. I sent a man ahead to see if the way was clear; he reported that he had not seen anyone and that the valley was a good one with no wild animals about. The wind had fallen and the sun was shining.
Now that we had crossed over the pass we were no longer in the Tong Gyuk Valley; we found ourselves on a plateau across which a river ran fed by streams from small surrounding valleys. Tsepa directed us to go by one of these valleys running southeast. There were ranges of mountains on either side of it so we could only keep to the valley bottom until we found a turning point. One day, as we were traveling particularly slowly, Akong Tulku suddenly came striding along ahead of his party to overtake us. It was a most joyful meeting for us both: He said that the pass had not been so difficult for his people, as we had already trodden down the snow. The rest of his party soon followed and we all went on together and camped in herdsmen’s huts. Akong had a great deal to report about happenings from the time when he received my letter telling of our intended departure from Nyewo with its details about getting rid of our animals and going on foot to Rigong Kha. Both his brother and Bursar Tsethar had thought that there must be some way to Rigong Kha which could be taken on horseback with the baggage on mules and yaks, and they had managed to cross the Alado River at a point near their camp, after which they went southeast by a temporary bridge built by some of the Resistance. From there they changed direction and went across several very high passes toward Rigong Kha. The track was so broken up that in many cases they had had to put three trunks over chasms between the rocks, and once they had to build a whole bridge themselves. Hard work like this could only be done by the able-bodied men while the rest of the party waited with the animals: It caused a lot of delay. In spite of all their care three of their horses were lost on these fragile bridges, also owing to lack of good feeding some of the horses were on the point of breaking down, so those which seemed too weak to continue the journey were sent back to Jigme Rinpoche’s group to recuperate. The party finally reached Rigong Kha with some three hundred yaks and twenty horses, to the great astonishment of the inhabitants, for they had never seen such animals before; and as there was little available grazing the beasts had often to be fed on grain.
When Tsethar and his companions heard that we had left about a fortnight previously for the Tso-phu Valley, they arranged to leave their horses and mules in the care of some of the villagers near Rigong Kha. Some of the refugees, however, could not bring themselves to part with their animals, so when they started on the further journey they took them with them, hoping they would be able to swim over the river at the cable bridge; but the current was so strong that many of the beasts were swept away by the flood.
By the time our friends reached the Tso-phu Valley our own tracks had become obliterated and some of the refugees, fearing that they would never find us, decided to stay in the valley with what animals they had left. Akong Tulku and Tsethar, however, were determined to carry on; incidentally they were also able to visit Kino Tulku whom they found to be very ill. He told them that he was very lonely without us, but was glad that we had gone on, for he thought our decision to try to get to India was a wise one, though it might bring us into danger.
The following morning as I looked down on the camp I was amazed to see so many people, for Tsethar’s group had added some 120 to our numbers, thus bringing the total up to nearly three hundred. We all went on together and as I looked back, it seemed more like an army on the march than a party of refugees.
The ground was still rocky with sudden steep slopes. At last we reached the junction of two valleys where the local trading road from the Powo Valley to Kongpo runs beside the river. Our scouts told me that they had seen a man with four loaded yaks going along it, so we waited for two hours, hiding among the rocks, while two of our men crossed the road and climbed the rocks above it, whence they could see about three miles of the road in either direction. Once they had given us the all clear the whole party crossed the road and forded the river beside it. Here we entered a small valley where we found several herdsmen’s huts, though no one was about. We spent a very disturbed night; several people thought that they heard men approaching and with so many women and children in the newly arrived party there was a great deal of noise in the camp with the babies crying a lot. At daybreak Tsepa and I held a consultation. He now recognized where we were and thought that we should leave the valley where we had spent the night in order to cross a high pass to the south; though he did not know what we would find on the farther side of it, he felt sure it would be in the right direction and we would be getting nearer to Lower Kongpo. No one else in the camp had the least notion of our position; they simply put their trust in the leaders and said they would follow them wherever they went. I felt that we could no longer take any risks and should avoid the more open valleys with so large a party, not to mention the many noisy children. Few of these people had any idea of how to hide themselves in an emergency and they were mostly wearing light-colored clothes, conspicuous against a dark background. They had so little imagination that it never entered their heads that the Communists might capture us. However difficult it might be for the older and the very young members of the party to go over this rough ground, Tsepa and I agreed that it was the only safe thing to do.
Before we set off again, I called everyone together. I explained that we were now likely to enter more dangerous country, for the land here was more thickly populated. It was important for everyone to realize that the Communists had control of this area, so no one could be trusted. If any of us should meet villagers it would be impossible to disguise the fact that we were a party of refugees. We must give them no clues about the direction that we were intending to take. Anything we bought must be paid for and everyone we happened to meet must be treated with the utmost courtesy. It
was most important that we should make as little noise as possible, and if anyone felt ill, he must inform me at once.
We were still able to travel by day and crossed a low pass. Our guide was sure that from this point we should see some part of lower Kongpo. We all felt excited about it. However, when we reached the top, all we saw was another range of rocky mountains, with no sign of life. Tsepa was puzzled, he did not know where to go next, but decided that we should proceed down to a little valley that could be seen below. When we reached it we found that there was no outlet, so that it was necessary to traverse another mountain. Beyond this we found that we had three more ranges to cross at the last one of which we were faced with a near precipice. It was covered with flat slippery grass; the descent was dangerous and some of the older people fell. Yet another chain of mountains lay ahead of us. We followed tracks made by wild animals and when we reached the summit of the next col we found a deep round hollow with trees growing in the grass, large enough for us all to camp there for the night.
