Bhutanese Tales of the Yeti
Page 12
Part 4
Merak and Sakteng
Brokpa Beliefs about the Yeti
In the north-eastern region of Bhutan, there is a community of nomads, or Brokpa. They are a proud people who trace their origins to a bold band of herders who fled the tyranny of a local chieftain in Tsona in southern Tibet. Under the joint leadership of their patron saints Lady Jomo and Lama Jarapa, the Brokpa settled in the “Plain of Bamboo,” or Sakteng, and the plateau of Merak, which literally means “set on fire.” While Brokpa is the term used for all nomads, the nomads of eastern Bhutan are known as the Brokpa of Merak and Sakteng and they constitute an ethnic enclave that is culturally and linguistically distinct. Not only are they different from the rest of the country with regard to dress but their traditions and culture are also quite unambiguous. They live at elevations ranging from 2,500 meters to 5,000 meters amidst the sublime starkness of alpine grandeur and have developed a repository of oral tradition that is as varied as it is fantastic. Many of their stories naturally evolve around the yeti which they call the mirgoe.
The Brokpa do not question the existence of the mirgoe, which for them is as real as their mountains. The questions they are likely to ask are “when” and “where” one encounters these co-inhabitants of the Himalayas. Like the other people of Bhutan the Brokpa regard these creatures as supernatural beings who occupy a definite place in their world of beliefs—they are seen as nydag shidag, or guardians of certain areas. Moreover, they have been entrusted by Penden Lhamo, Merak and Sakteng’s main deity, with the custodianship of the kuten-sungten (statues, scriptures and religious objects). It is taken for granted that the mirgoe live within the reach of human settlements in both their invisible as well as their rare visible and tangible forms. Sightings and encounters are often regarded as ominous omens heralding sickness, natural calamities and catastrophes or even death.
It is said that the footprints of the mirgoe are very human-like but naturally much, much larger. According to the Brokpas, what makes the footprints distinctly mirgoe is the size and the fact that the ridge over the arch of the foot is extremely narrow. The Brokpas of Merak and Sakteng swear that the almost human feet of the mirgoe are reversed so that the heels are in front. This of course explains why curious yeti chasers and watchers have never caught up with it, the yeti is actually heading off in the opposite direction and probably with a knowing smirk on its face!
Human-mirgoe encounters, though they may be rare, are possible and Brokpa children are raised not only to expect chance meetings but also to exhibit the appropriate behavior in the eventuality of such an encounter. On meeting a mirgoe the human must prostrate in reverence and keep very still and quiet. One can also feign being dead, but most important of all one must never, but never, defy or show disrespect to a mirgoe. The mirgoe are not carnivorous, bloodthirsty predators as we are misled to imagine. They are herbivores living on tender leaves and shoots. A mirgoe, therefore, never attacks a human to whom it is a guardian unless defied or provoked first.
The Brokpa Who Forgot
The Brokpa of Merak and Sakteng claim that they migrated to the south, settling in the areas they occupy today, sometime during the reign of the Tibetan king, Songtsen Gampo (AD 617-98), and they brought along with them their most valued assets including of course their herds of yaks. To this day the herding of yaks remains their most important occupation. The pristine environment they inhabit is breathtakingly beautiful and offers little else but pastures for yaks. It is only this hardy animal that can make the most of the limited grazing resources and extreme climatic conditions prevalent at elevations above 4,000 meters. The Brokpa are known to tend their herds in pastures as high up as 5,000 meters during the summer months, moving to lower regions for part of the winter when a frigid reign is ushered in, accompanied by freezing temperatures, snow, ice and bone-chilling winds. These Brokpa live their cyclical lives moving south every winter with their livestock and closing down their houses for several weeks of the year. During this time their animals graze in the temperate areas while the Brokpa conduct a brisk trade with the Sharchokpas, the people of eastern Bhutan. They barter their milk and woolen products against essential commodities required in the summer months when they live at their high altitude habitats. A sense of desolation descends upon the high valleys as most of the houses are locked up for the winter with metal chains secured with heavy padlocks. Very few people remain in their summer homes in the winter time.
Many years ago the family of Lama Guru Rinpoche, as he was popularly called, decided to break away from tradition and brave the winter in their gompa, or monastery residence. It was befitting for the most revered and respected personality of Sakteng to live in the gompa, his ancestral home, on the plateau overlooking the entire village of Sakteng. The gompa is set against the mountains and clumps of oak, rhododendron and spruce were scattered all over the plateau. The people looked upon this family with respect and they sought the advice of the lama both in spiritual as well as worldly matters. He always had a stream of visitors in his home during the summer months. In the winter, people seeking his counsel followed him to his retreat in Tawang, which is in the north-eastern region of India.
This particular winter was quite different, for the lama was in his summer residence and it was bitterly cold. The chilling and blustery winds were accompanied by snow drifts that turned into a steady fall which quickly blanketed the whole area. The one-storied houses in the valley were literally buried under the snow; streams froze and the vegetation became indistinguishable from the blurred contours of the stark sea of snow. Lama Wokpo’s three-storied house stood steadfast in the bleak landscape. His family members could actually scoop up the snow from the windows of their house and melt it for drinking water.
It was on one such bitter winter’s day that Ap Rinchen from Sakteng village had struggled through the snow to request an audience with the lama. The lama’s family warmly welcomed him into their home and pampered him with food and drink in the customary manner. Ap Rinchen was nervous and edgy; soon after his meal he begged to see the guru immediately, although the lama had said that he would only see him after his daily prayers and chants. The family could hear the hushed but harried tones of Ap Rinchen’s voice which were subdued by the lama’s calm words that seemed to soothe and pacify the anguished man. The conversation went on for a long time and when Ap Rinchen finally took leave of the lama and emerged into the smoke-filled kitchen he looked calmer, though his eyes seemed to sparkle in a strange way. He politely but obstinately declined the family’s invitation to spend the night in their home and dashed out into the cold as they anxiously watched after him... night had already fallen and there was only a faint glow from the waning moon that barely lit his path.
The few people who had remained in their summer homes gathered around what they quickly recognized as a human body.
The next day began with the sun emerging from behind the snowy mountains in its full glory and the whole valley seemed to sparkle in the brilliant sunlight. The ever hungry ravens had boldly surfaced from their hiding places and flew around creating little cascades of snow falls every time they perched on the branch of a snow covered tree. The worst snowfall in several years was finally over. Suddenly the serene tranquillity was shattered when a piercing human voice that cried shrilly resounded throughout the entire valley. The cry was one of shock and fear. The few people who had remained in their summer homes gathered around what they quickly recognized as a human body lying in the snow just a few meters from the village. The man was dead and he was completely naked. His body was covered with gigantic paw-shaped bruises that had turned black and blue. But the impressions left were clear: they were not of an ordinary human being or a bear . . . they had to belong to an enormous creature! There was much confusion and a babble of suggestions when someone suddenly pointed out the unmistakable footprints that seemed to have walked away from the scene of the crime. Some brave souls followed the tracks. But they suddenly stopped a few meters short of
where the victim lay. The virgin snow appeared undisturbed for as far as the eye could see. The mirgoe had definitely been there and made its presence felt. But it was now beyond the reach of mere mortals. The crowd was at once somber and stood in silent reverence as all present felt a shudder run down their spines on the realization that, “it must have been the mirgoe.”
Before long, the news of this cruel and despicable incident reached all four corners of the village and everyone gathered together to prepare for the cremation. Finally, a messenger reached Sakteng gompa and informed Guru Rinpoche’s family of the mysterious death. Stunned, they clicked their tongues and shook their heads in disbelief and sympathy, but the lama, with a knowing half-smile, simply said, “I told him to stay with us for a few days, but he did not listen to me.”
When the cremation and death rites were over, and the people once again resumed their daily routine, various theories of what might have happened to poor Ap Rinchen were postulated. It was known that the late Ap Rinchen had been greatly disturbed by recurring bad dreams and that he had been so distressed that he had struggled up to the lama’s residence for advice. However, he foolishly ignored the warnings. After his meeting with the lama he had hoped to return to his home in the valley. As he was on his way he was confronted by a mirgoe. Preoccupied with his thoughts and nervous he had forgotten the most important taboo of the Brokpa belief system: he drew his dagger against the nydag shidag...something a Brokpa must never do. Realizing his folly and overcome with fear he then ran frantically in front of this great creature who seems to have followed him and methodically stripped him of all his clothes, for they were found strewn all the way down into the valley beginning only a few meters away from the gompa. There were two sets of unmistakable footprints in the snow, one Ap Rinchen’s, small and round, for he was wearing leather boots, the other huge with a clear impression of the toes, the heels and the narrow arch. There were smudges and body prints where the victim must have faltered, struggled and fallen. Then the creature must have indulged in what the Brokpa refer to as “cat and mouse tactics.” The mirgoe claws the victim, tosses it into the air repeatedly and plays with it, exactly as a cat does with a mouse it has caught. The game lasts for as long as it amuses the mirgoe, after which it ambles off to some other distraction. The bruises and crushed limbs were identified as the typical signs of a victim who has suffered the cat and mouse tactics of the defied and angered mirgoe.
This man had paid with his life for forgetting a basic Brokpa taboo.
The Novice
The stories and legends that surround Lama Wookpa of Sakteng are nearly as famous as those of the patron saints Lady Jomo and Lama Jarapa, the founders of Merak and Sakteng. The difference is that while the legends of Lady Jomo and Lama Jarapa are placed in history around the reign of King Songsten Gampo of the seventh century, Lama Wookpa, also known as Guru Rinpoche, lived only about three generations ago. He was nicknamed Lama Wookpa, or Lama Owl, because he would spend all day performing prayers and rituals and traveled in the night like an owl. The lama lived with his family in Sakteng gompa, a sprawling monastery located on the tableland above the valley of Sakteng. Expeditions up and down the spurs, to and from the monastery, were activities the lama had to engage in to satisfy his many devotees from all over...they would invite him to give blessings, perform rituals and conduct divinations.
Lama Wookpa was known to possess mystical powers. His knowledge was immense, his powers unlimited. He was endowed with the rare ability of a “lhathong dethong,” or one who can see gods and demons—such people are also said to be able to communicate with the supernatural. The lama would not confirm nor deny these attributes. There were those who believed that the powers of the lama were beyond all doubt. Yet, there were others who were not so easily convinced, like a particular young and skeptical novice who was an attendant of the lama and dismissed what he heard, saying, “People will come up with anything!”
Tales thrived in this place. For instance, there was supposed to be the mysterious koinyer, or keeper of the temple. Everybody feared and respected the large, shadowy figure who was sometimes seen carrying what resembled a bunch of keys and wandering in and out of the temple. It would disappear as suddenly as it had appeared. Some said it was the play of shadows in the dark on tired eyes, many others staunchly believed that it was a lhaende, something that was definitely not human. Perhaps it was a guardian, appointed by the choesung, the guardian deities, to look after the temple.
One evening the lama asked the novice to go to the temple and fetch the large incense burner which was usually housed in the main chapel. The sun had already set, the last light of day was just disappearing over the hills, and darkness was beginning to descend quickly. The ravens had already settled in the branches of the poplar and the burning butter lamps cast a yellowish-red beam in the dark interiors of the temple. The novice hurried into the chapel, swiftly made three customary prostrations in front of the altar, picked up the incense burner and walked towards the door. Just as he was stepping over the threshold he felt a curious urge to look back over his shoulder. As he did so, he saw a dark movement in front of the altar. He stopped and turned to have a better look. It was a huge shadowy formation that seemed to have quickly vanished behind the image on the altar. He thought he actually heard the jingle of keys. The nononsense, down-to-earth novice smiled to himself, thinking that the shadows had strange effects on the eyes in the dark!
The incident was soon forgotten as he immersed himself in the rigors of monastic life, study and prayers. Then one day the lama was invited to perform special prayers in honor of the village’s deity, Penden Lhamo, in the village of Sakteng. The young novice was one of those chosen to accompany the lama. When the rituals were concluded it was already dusk and the cattle were returning home from the pastures. By the time dinner was served and the many farewell drinks consumed it was approaching midnight. The patrons pleaded with the lama to stay in their house, but the latter, who was cheerfully intoxicated with numerous cups of ara, teased, “Am I not Lama Wookpa? I travel in the night like an owl,” and took his leave. His attendants had to hurry to catch up with him and they hastily saddled his horse, which the lama stumbled on to with their assistance. He held the bridle and sort of slouched over the neck of the mare who snorted and took off with a light trot. The tingle of the bell around the mare’s neck and the hard breathing of the travelers themselves were the only sounds to be heard in the stillness of the night. The attendants, who now had to carry all the books, drums and other objects for the ritual, in addition to all the gifts which they had received as their fee from the patrons, found the climb back to the gompa strenuous and exacting. Soon they reached the tip of the spur that was lined with hundreds of prayer flags. There was a gentle breeze and the flags fluttered lightly. Suddenly the lama brought his mare to a standstill as he pulled the bridle. The lama was looking into the darkness as if he saw somebody or something he recognized. He turned to his attendants and gestured to them to move on. He was smiling into the darkness and talking in low almost inaudible tones to somebody. The language was distinctly Tibetan. But there was nobody. The attendants looked at each other in quiet surprise and continued up the hill in silence. The air seemed to be suddenly filled with strange vibrations of many voices talking in unison. Finally, they heard the lama saying, “Ya, ya, I must go now.” At this everybody turned around and no one could miss the most fantastic sight of the huge shadowy figures that were heading in the opposite direction. In the faint moonlight they saw the immense monkey-like creatures that resembled men. They walked in a subdued orderly file down the hill.
In silence the men trudged up the hill, each one puzzled with the strange incident that had just taken place. The novice was most perturbed: “I have seen this before.” It was a déjà vu experience that left him feeling strange and uneasy. The silence was almost unbearable and the young novice dared to raise his voice and ask the question that was in everybody’s mind, “What were those things?”
So, that’s where he had seen those shadowy figures, in the Lhamo’s chapel on the night when he had gone to fetch the incense burner! Mirgoe, nydag/shidag, or custodians of certain places. The Brokpa from all over Merak and Sakteng knew that—it had just taken longer for this novice to find out a fact that was so innate in the belief system of his society.
The Mirgoe’s Bride
Marriage in Brokpa society is not a sacred institution, but rather a matter of economic convenience. Fraternal polyandry, in which several brothers share one wife, is common and generally preferred to monogamy. Kesang was soon to become the young bride of two brothers called Karchung and Tseten. The sixteen-year-old girl was the family’s sheep herder and had enjoyed a carefree life in the outdoors. Now she was a little apprehensive about entering into a marriage which would keep her indoors and around the family hearth most of the time. She calmed her turbulent mind by saying to herself, “Karchung and Tseten are the two most eligible men in the village.” Most of all she did not want her parents to be looked down upon. Her refusal to marry would force her family to offer the gyachang, or the “return drink,” to annul the matrimonial agreement and this would naturally mean that they would be the subject of shame—besides, the whole episode would not be conducive to peace and harmony in the village, and Kesang was a dutiful child.