THE ENIGMA OF TIBET
A documentary about the "Schäfer" expedition 1938/39
Hans-Albert Lettow
In the heart of Asia lies the greatest highlands on our earth:
Tibet.
Surrounded by ice blockades of the wild high mountains,
sealed off by the sand dunes of enormous deserts.
The surrounding countries are locked in dispute.
West of Tibet native autocrats attempt
to reconcile the millennial culture of their peoples
with modern civilization.
To the north of Tibet the Soviet imperialism has taken possession of
the ancient silk roads,
expanding it, and widening it
to disintegrate the established daily life of Inner Asia.
Once upon a time in the East
the British brutally invaded this small middle kingdom
and thus caused today's struggles
creating a new order in East Asia.
To the south of Tibet, Britain also imposed
a foreign government, and a new economy upon the ancient people of India.
Unaffected by these events, and unlike other nations, Tibet remained firm,
maintaining their ancient lifestyle and a territory enclosed by nature.
The people of this country as well as its leaders
attempted to defend their ancient laws and their individual culture
against foreign influence through xenophobic seclusiveness.
Thus only a few dauntless explorers managed to enter those areas.
Particularly the biota of humans,
animals and herbs remained unexplored.
Therefore our expedition, the German "Tibet-Expedition Ernst Schäfer"
decided to fill this gap. We were underway for 1 1/2 years.
In order for our expedition to be successful
our leaders had to engage in difficult negotiations
with the rulers and dignitaries.
But despite these problems,
the flora and fauna, the lives of people of Tibet need to be documented.
The technical leader of the expedition was Edmund Geer,
he was responsible for the organisation of the grand caravans,
for delivering food to man and animal,
and for the storage and transport of extensive samples.
Dr. Karl Wienert was assigned to take care of land surveying
and geomagnetic fields, as well as meteorological observations
which are essential
when ascertaining the origins of many species in this mysterious country.
The exact measuring of body and skull shapes was carried out
by anthropologist Dr. Bruno Beger
who studies human races in this area of scientific research.
The observation of small animals was part of Ernst Krause's assignment,
he also made a number of important scientific discoveries.
Ernst Krause was our photographer and cinematographer.
With help from all participants he created this cinematic work.
From the East the road to Tibet was blocked due to the Chinese-Japanese War.
Thus we had to try entering the Tibetan highlands through India.
But the first significant opposition had already started there.
There was an attempt to force the expedition to return,
making use of political intrigues and a sheer flood of defamation.
That was because the British-Indian rulers
were jealous and were determined to not allow any relation between Tibet
and other great powers.
Only after long-winded negotiations Dr. Schäfer finally persuaded them to
allow us to advance to the enormous bastions of ice of the Himalaya
which has remained entirely unexplored.
The deep canyon valley of Tista
formed our entry port into the wild, untouched realm of the high Himalaya.
Everywhere in India we passed by witnesses of Western civilization,
having found their strongest base in the big coastal metropolis of Calcutta.
From the plain alluvial deposits of the Ganges and the Brahmaputra
we used a modern express train in order to reach the submountains of the Himalaya.
A local railway weaves through the overgrown jungle valleys of the outsiders.
The march into the wilderness begins.
Here, at the southward slope of the Himalaya,
climate and surrounding area is dense and without air.
The same climates which usually extend from the tropics to the arctic regions
can be found together here, the altitude is between 100 and 8000 metres.
The lowermost climate exists in the greenhouse-sticky rain forests,
the air and soil steam due to moisture.
Giant trees and climbing plants, parasites live here
everything struggles for survival,
dangerously and beautifully,
silently and murderously.
Icy floods of the majestic glaciers fall into this tropical world.
Eastern floods ravage while Southern winds carry the evaporating water
from the Indian Ocean toward overlying rocks,
where it cools down and falls as a rain into the valley.
This is the dreaded monsoon, the big rain,
throughout the evening and night downpours rush toward the earth,
every single drop turns into a wild river and drags cliff debris
as well as entire mountain sides along into the deep.
Amidst the uproar of nature our pack animals kept walking unperturbed.
With bloated nostrils, their eyes close to surrender,
they diligently consider each single step.
A monsoon shattered a bridge again.
Quickly our carriers begin to work. They're Lepchas,
shy jungle inhabitants of the dark
mountain woods that surround the Himalayas.
Their only tool is a knife, their building material is the bamboo of the forest.
With it they tie the trunks for the bridge together.
In addition a couple of branches get used
as cutwater in order to tighten the bridge.
Only the monsoon knows for how long it will last.
At the arduous southern slope we tackle heights of thousands of metres each day.
Leaving behind the tropics and subtropics we then enter the third part of our mission,
the so-called Palearctic, which very much equates with our measured latitudes.
After that we witness a huge battlefield of nature,
where spruces, icicled with lichen, stand like icy grey warriors
as the last outpost of life against the bastions of eternal snow.
Above here, all growth, all life ends,
and even here the monsoon reaches its insurmountable limit,
this is where Gods and demons live.
The trails of smoke of holy fires rise up to them
as do the passionate prayers of the natives.
Relentlessly the prayer wheel whirls the enclosed dictums.
Ad infinitum the lips murmur the mysterious syllables:
"Om mani padme hum, om mani padme hum".
The unreachable throne of the Gods is our only destination.
Even for our mountain-experienced pack animals the path goes no further.
Thus we and our party return to the ice stream of the Himalaya.
With never-ending ridges, debris sliding down below
of the skyscraper-like Kanchenjungha.
Its glaciers takes us back to ancient times.
The ice river is split into gigantic fissures and chasms.
Only a handful of European men have ever entered this wild valley
and stood in front of this mountain.
It is beyond reach. A patron of the natives,
the ghostly ruler, the powerful God.
Once a year Kanchenjungha is said to appear before the natives,
They show their obedience with a great war dance.
With the clangor of the tubes and the rumbling of the tabors
the warrior kings
celebrate their ruler and God in a sacred dance.
And now Makhala also reveals himself to the humans.
He is the patron God of the southern passes,
the terrible judge.
Celebrated as the dark judge of the shining work of God,
as the blood-drunk demon among the demons.
In majestic combat Kanchenjungha unfolds his grandeur and power
and once again transforms into the luminous, unreachable mountain
that rests above the clouds for the entire year.
There's an ancient sage among the Lepchas with knowledge in the wild
areas of the mountain slaves from Kanchenjungha:
When the great God of the mountain once gave his daughter's hand in marriage
to one of the vassals, he gave her a wild animal as a wedding gift.
Concealed from the people it still lives on a secluded fort.
And the Gods will curse anyone who tries to discover
the secret of this mysterious being.
After months we gained the trust of the superstitious Lepchas,
only then we could attempt to approach to the realm
of the mythological animals of the Schapis.
The rocks pile up inaccessibly around its world.
No researcher therefore has had the luck to discover one of these animals.
Our ascent lead us through dangerous, arduous jungle walls
until reaching the border of eternal snow,
rising up beside canyons alongside dizzying slopes.
After many days of straining,
the magic realm of the unknown animal lay ahead of us.
But it was as if the mountain Gods wanted to conspire against us
and deny us their secret through fog, rock slides and snow.
Our Lepchas became distrustful and wary,
they feared the curse of their God and wanted to mislead us and retreat.
When that attempt failed they tried to convince us to return home,
but our will was stronger than the power of the mountains.
After days of pointless rock climbing
we were able to hunt down the unknown animal
and liken it to its closest relative,
the strange Tahr of the Western Himalaya.
The success even made the tremulous hearts of our natives beat faster
and full of pride we returned to our encampment.
Our camp was at an altitude of 4,600 meters, an altitude
that in Europe is only reached by the highest peaks of the Alps.
Our poor pack animals were suffering due to thin air and lean willows for food.
Despite the concentrated feedstuffs they visibly got thinner.
The wild pigeons that brood among the steep cliffs
have lost all shyness against us.
At the last ridge of vegetation snow lotuses and Sikkim rhubarb
unfold their fantastic flowers around the highest peaks.
High above the camp nearby a deserted carcass,
a well camouflaged observation position has been built.
Here the lives of the most splendid and largest birds of the Asian
high-altitude mountains are documented.
A lot of caution and patience is necessary
in order to deceive these cagey and sharp sighted gigantic birds
so that they won't notice the presence of the birdwatchers.
Still the huge birds seem suspicious
A common raven is the first to dare approaching the open corpse.
Then a second one joins him.
Their frenzied and desperate movements of the pair of ravens
clearly express their anxiety and hunger,
gluttony and fear.
Their meal doesn't last long,
their mission as frontier men is accomplished.
There they are,
aside the condor the largest bird of prey in the world,
the bearded vulture and the Himalaya vultures.
Between them a heated fight begins.
The stronger Himalaya vultures reign victorious
and the bearded vulture has to be content with the bones.
Further outside the camp
the geomagnetic scientist makes his observations.
His notes form the basis for all of our research work.
Arduously he gathers all his data,
and through them we get a clear picture of our position
over and beneath the ground of our research area.
An equally complex compound of equations is used by our anthropological researcher.
He measures the skulls and the body shape of the natives.
Length of feet, length of arm and hand,
the color of the eyes and skin,
all document this accurately.
For the natives our expert is always a helpful friend.
The anthropologist can even redeem them from their worst ailments,
toothache, which brings him foremost respect
and great trust.
They soon trusted us so much that they even
let us take moulds of their faces.
A soft, resin-like substance which doesn't really bother while breathing
and is applied, and thus a lifelike mask is created.
In the moments of helpless darkness though
the ancient fear of demons lie like a nightmare on the native's naïve mind.
Soon the substance congeals.
It's a refreshing moment for all involved
when finally the mask is taken off.
That way piece by piece
a collection of human profiles of High Asia is created.
After the work is done we join together in the camp.
Beggars and nomads from the Tibetan plains came over to us
and became our friends.
Yet the mountain range of the Northern Himalaya
separates us from the higher plains of Tibet.
It lies, in between rugged rocks,
close to the border to the eternal snow,
the realm of the precious wild game:
the realm of the blue sheep.
One morning we found ourselves on the high mountain
in dense and thick snow.
Hardly a hundred kilometres away from the subtropical jungle
we are surrounded by a desert of ice,
snow and rocks.
Like lichen the hanging glaciers are attached to the huge mountain sides.
An image of Greenland and the Arctic,
isolated lakes
are lying ahead of us,
freeing themselves from the shimmering, ice mountains.
We left the Himalaya behind in the South
and are stood at the border between two landscapes.
To the South there is the ominous lofty mountain,
in the North there are endless high plains.
We face the incalculable vastness of Tibet,
the forbidden country.
Our most beautiful dream,
our main goal that hasn't been reached by any previous scientific expedition is:
The mysterious capital Lhasa.
We neither could nor did we want to respect the will of the
British government to stop at this border.
In a well-calculated and quick border cross at Doghra
for which we had absolutely no permission,
we succeeded in reaching our goal and finding the Tibetan sovereign.
Thus diplomatic relations with the rulers of the forbidden country were established.
Through the symbolic gesture of handing a white veil of friendship
a difficult, diplomatic game began,
which lasted for months due to the Asian formalities,
until finally a letter from the government of Lhasa brought
hope for great success.
With a newly acquired huge caravan
we headed for our ultimate goal.
"Lha gyalo!", the Gods have won, that's what the Tibetans shout
when they reach the highest point of the pass.
Through sacrificing petition pennants
they invoke divine protection against upcoming dangers on their journey.
Due to the lack of nourishing meadows
we need to switch the caravan animals.
The tenacious mule gets exchanged for the bulky yak,
Tibet's very own animal.
Whether it be the biting cold or icy snow storms,
there's nothing which can harm the cloddy and thick-skinned fellow.
Our yaks are the true children of their age-old homeland.
While loading them up in the morning
their disobedient, fractious savagery runs riot.
Not until arranged in order of the caravan
do they begin to agree to carry their load above the demanding terrain.
Obscured from the caravan road the higher plains begin to fascinate us.
Its sublime solitude is mirrored through its creatures.
The argali lives on the mountain range.
In the low-lying land cannonades the hoofbeat of the wild horses of Tibet,
the proud kiangs.
The alpha male has spotted us and chases off with its pride intact.
During the toughest part of our journey
we encounter one of the many treacherous swamps in the area.
The animals' hooves sink into the black, gurgling swamp.
We need to aggressively propel them forward,
because otherwise they would meet a cruel death in the swamp.
The swamp desert troubles us throughout the entire day.
Then the night falls
and we are forced to pitch an emergency settlement.
With an empty stomach and wet clothes which are encrusted with mud and gunge
we spend a bitterly cold night.
Fresh-fallen snow covers the plain
and makes it shimmer and shine in the light of the early morning.
The warm early light encourages the mouse rabbits to leave their subterranean dens.
And the snowfinch also appears.
It uses the den of the mouse rabbit as a hatchery and a temporary home.
The lack of nesting sites probably gave way to this strange symbiotic community
between bird and rodent.
As a remuneration for living place and warmth
the sharp-eyed snowfinch warns its landlord against all kinds of enemies.
The threatening hoofbeats of our cavalcade
is a warning signal for all animals of the plain.
Suspiciously the corsa fox sneaks off.
Finally there arête kiangs again.
Ahead of us on an altitude we see the first pride.
There over in the valley, a second pride.
And yet another one.
They are the most beautiful animals of the Asian highlands.
Such a noble gait, such an ordered pride
supports the claim that these animals lead their realm.
They easily venture far distances,
they, the true owners of the endless plain.
At the height of 4,000-5,000 metres
our caravan wears on in an monotonous rhythm.
With each day we're travelling deeper into Tibet.
During the day the sun relentlessly burns upon us.
At night the icy winds freeze rivers and lakes.
Often fatigue slows us down to a standstill
because of these unusual fluctuations in temperature.
The first people of Tibet the begging nomads approach us.
According to the traditions of their country
they pay us honor with a lengthy chant.
The first residential area of the forbidden country lies ahead of us.
We as Europeans strike the inhabitants with terrible awe,
the entire village is shaken.
But soon the first fear vanishes.
The religion called Lamaism rules over the entire everyday life of the Tibetans.
Since the day Tibet was converted to Buddhism
about 13 centuries ago
the prayer wheels of all sizes rotate from morning till evening
Relentlessly the prayer beads glide through the fingers of the devoted.
Only that way can they achieve reincarnation.
After the long and lone marches
the caravan herders are happy to again be among people of their kind
They savor the tsamba, the Tibetan national dish.
It's a mixture of fired barley flour,
musty tea, and brownish toned rancid butter,
seasoned with salt and soda.
The country is so poor.
Our donkeys paw the stones to spawn puny roots.
It is always a big event in these remote settlements if a travelling rider arrives.
A regular courier service connects the Southern border locations of Tibet
through the wide highlands - with India.
Only selected, robust mules and horses are capable of enduring such exertion
of this the toughest mail delivery service in the world.
The animals had to get used to unnatural concentrated feed.
It's coagulated blood of sheep that is mixed with Zamba flour.
There's also mail for us, mail from Germany.
On the huge caravan road we move on to the Northeast.
A courier from the Tibetan government appears.
His bell-spear's jingle protects him, and he's admired even by bandits.
Through long daily marches
we approach the river basin of the Brahmaputra,
from which once originated the culture of God's country.
We advance as far as the heart of Tibet.
The entry port is a savage canyon which is littered with rock fragments.
A gigantic Buddha statue welcomes us.
The mysterious ruins show signs of an eventful history
and a militant past line our solitary path.
Chuvash Tatars, Khans Golden Horde
and wild Gurkas once roamed
the fertile ground of Tibet in order to pillage.
But our most significant discoveries are the ruins of Yalung,
the ancient, pre-Buddhist capital.
In the crumbled watchtower the northern raven,
Tibet's national emblem, hordes it treasures.
We try to get a picture of
the ancient king's palace through piecing our findings together.
Once great kings and a courageous, fighting people ruled this place,
until in the 7th century according to our calculations.
Indian Buddhism found its way into Tibet,
It replaced the belief in demons of the ancestral Tibetans
and vanquished their magic rites.
The king Songsten Gampo roamed the plains
in order to fund a new capital in Lhasa for the new Lamaistic religion.
Their high priest, the almighty Dalai Lama,
is still dreaming
of spreading their religion across the world as the cradle of mankind.
Thus they want to dislocate the origin of mankind to Tibet
in order to make it become the spiritual centre of the world.
On an arduous cliff hill
there can be found a house from the earliest Tibetan people.
As the legend goes
there lived a creature by the cross breeding of an ape and a devil-woman.
The time of the kings is forgotten,
Lamaism triumphantly shaped the country.
These gigantic relic shrines,
tower to heaven as its holy symbols.
They fill its believers with fear
of the dreadful deities and countless demons,
which only the priest, the Lama, is able to summon.
The ritual is strange and haunting, and filled with an air of death
Perpetually the lips of the laymen murmur their strange chants,
while the conjurer priest becomes
increasingly entranced and at one with the spirits.
He subdues their will using symbolic gestures,
and through magical help, spiritual daggers,
thunderbolts and magic bells.
The corpses of the deceased lie outside the gates.
On the sacred cliff
the fumes from the fires rise.
The fleshy remains are destroyed in a strange way.
For only through complete decomposition of the body can
the soul be freed for a new, fortunate rebirth on earth.
This decomposition is carried out by the holy vultures.
But before that the body gets cut into pieces and the bones get crushed,
so that no bloody remains lie on the hill.
Now the priest makes gestures to begin,
and for a short while the air quivers due to the wings of gigantic vultures.
While the body is destroyed,
the magic powers of the Lama accompany the soul
which prior to its new rebirth
needs to wander aimlessly, in between countless
demonic appearances, through the intermediate realm of the Bardo.
Throughout his life the Tibetan
is constantly acquainted with the visual nature of these ghosts
through masks, murals and temple adornments.
Evil powers, and thousands of Gods and demons
endanger and distress these earthly being in all phases of life,
through eternal reincarnation from rebirth to rebirth,
until at last the soul has found its way to its highest possible knowledge
into the redeeming realm of Buddha.
That's how the Lama influences the people of Tibet.
His power finds its expression in the countless temples and convents.
From small groups of fanatic sectarians
to the huge convents followed by the masses,
they all leave their imprint on the ancient cultural land.
An uncountable group of Lamaistic monks gather.
More than one third of the country's male population are taken
from the main body of people, and join the laborious life of the convents.
Only few get involved with the hardships and duties
of the hieratic life,
the vast mass are deprived.
In dirt and poverty they lead a life
which is regulated by outside forces,
while their abbots hold the population to ransom,
and snatch up the few riches of the country.
5,000-10,000 monks are sheltered in one of these convent towns.
Trashilhünpo became well-known because of Sven Hedding.
Here the Penchen Lama is based, in his human form
the deity of eternal shining light returns to earth.
Early in the morning the timber drum
summons the monks for their ritual daily work.
The eerie sounds rise from the Lama's chapel
to the courtyards and halls to hail Gods during daily prayers.
Then the convents and temples the districts and towns,
the cottages and houses
are surrounded by the obscure murmuring of praying monks.
Twice a day this routine is interrupted,
when young convent students bring the tea in heavy copper tankards.
Most of the mundane practical work is done
by the youngest members of the convent community.
At the early age of 8-10 they get brought to the monastery.
After a couple of years they learn the secrets of herbal pills,
medicinal herbs at the medical school.
In the largest convents the young monks
have to able to demonstrate diligence
and make an effort to replicate the holy scriptures.
There it is still being done as in the early years of the printing guild.
The wood-cut characters are manually put into black ink
in order to make the copies.
Page after page and sheet after sheet: that's how the classic writings of Lamaism
are being produced and multiplied
thus the culture of Tibet and the power of its people
are linked to the convents.
one of the few stone walled cities left today
that echoes the early kingdom's ancient wartime spirit
is Xigaze, Tibet's second-largest city.
In order to maintain separate power from the medieval clergy state
the predecessor of today's Dalai Lama
deployed a small guard of about 10,000 men
which he trained according to European standards.
Serving their time in India the Tibetan army officers learned
all about precision and the modern art of warfare.
Now they teach the small troops in the plains of High Asia
what they themselves had been taught from beyond the Himalaya.
We ride on, above high, vast plains, toward our ultimate aim.
Large herds of goats and sheep pass by, stamping their feet on the soil.
They search the scarce, leaves and grass and paw out roots.
The herds are often the sole assets of the dislodged settlers.
They produce milk and meat, and can be used for leather and wool.
The wool of Tibetan sheep and goats is a much sought-after commodity at markets
in the neighbouring countries because of its density and robustness.
But in its own country it also gets used in many crafts.
As once upon a time in our country
the spindle is still regarded as a sign of domestic necessity in Tibet.
Without the warm coat made from animals
man wouldn't be able to exist here, at the frontier of all life.
And yet Tibetans don't just produce goods
they need to withstand the life-threatening forces of nature,
but also wish to make items with beauty and for decoration.
Even if the technique of weaving carpets is primitive,
the style and overall look is attractive and delicate.
One of the most frequently seen Tibetan images
is the age-old Indo-Aryan sign of the swastika
which for the Tibetans means imperishable fortune.
Barren mountain banks interrupt the wide plains.
We need to conquer and climb them despite already being exhausted.
When we reach the arduous road we look down to the desolate mountain lake.
The thin air makes our journey even more difficult.
The flanks of our sorely tested horses tremble.
We need to abandon some loyal animals.
There the big river of Tibet lies ahead of us,
the Brahmaputra.
It's the last obstacle on our way to Lhasa.
Sluggish boats made from fur and leather carry us to the other shore.
Deep down on the bottom of the river lies, according to Tibetan faith,
a vengeful demon who is disguised as a snake.
They fear him more than licking the planks of the ferries.
High above the hills black-neck cranes are passing by.
According to the myth they carry the Dalai Lamas through the air
on their robust wings, from one convent to another.
From late autumn till early spring
the holy animals swirl around in the large valleys around the Holy City.
At 3,700 meters lies the highest and largest agricultural zone of Tibet.
Even at that enormous height we see the age-old, respected
picture of the farmer ploughing and reaping his crops.
When the pilgrim from the high plains of the North
catch sight of these fertile fields
he knows that he's close to his destination
the Holy City, Lhasa.
In its nest the black-neck crane
is shy and suspicious,
but here it flounces impartially in between the peasants,
as if being aware of its own sanctity.
This is the promised road
on which millions of faithful Buddhists have already pilgrimaged to Lhasa,
to, once in their lives,
witness and rejoice in the high-ranging temple castle of the Holy Land, the Potala.
They measure the long march with their suffering
by throwing themselves countless times to the ground
and touching the ground with their foreheads.
Now that only a few hours separate us from our great destination,
a tense agitation fills the air.
Over there on a distant hill, a temple appears from the lowlands:
the Potala!
At its feet a gold plated cauldron serves as a gate to the sanctuary.
Endless cohorts of pilgrims swarm the street.
One of the most beautiful and noble buildings of the world towers above us,
the stronghold of Northern Buddhism,
the three hundred-year-old Potala.
compassed by cottonwood groves and gardens,
Lhasa lies in the fertile wetlands of the Kyi Chu.
25,000-30,000 monks and inhabitants live here.
But during New Year cohorts of pilgrims and Lamas arrive.
Then 50,000-60,000 people fill the houses and streets of the Holy City.
Throughout the centuries only a few Europeans have entered
the walls of this city, as Christian missionaries, camouflaged as pilgrims,
or violently, during a military attack.
Despite countless, courageous, hard fought attempts
many great researchers from all nations failed
to accomplish this high goal.
As the first Germans we were welcomed
by the four highest dignitaries of the country.
We summon all our knowledge of Asian courtesy and Tibetan etiquette
in order to not violate any basic acts of courtesy.
The smallest mistake is enough to upset our hosts.
We would lose face,
and thus suffer the loss of any kind of help or support.
In exact order compliments and phrases need to be used.
For instance like this:
"Did Your Honor have the luck to produce a child?"
"For how many years has Your Honor lived in this land of happiness."
"Your Honor's smooth face equates that of a blooming youth."
"We are very much indebted to Your Excellencies for allowing us
to experience the great philosophy and the religion of Buddha
in the Holy City."
A government house is assigned to us
as our lodgings to demonstrate their goodwill.
Due to our research mission our lodgings did not resemble a place
for Buddhist meditation,
but rather a true zoological laboratory.
There skulls were dried, stuffed birds were prepared,
and the largest collections were classified and wrapped up.
The delightful collection of animals we wanted to bring home alive
completed the picture of idyllic domesticity in the heart of High Asia.
One day a long queue of carriers approached us.
They brought along generous gifts from the government.
We get tonnes of butter portions, stored in sewed bags made from furs of yaks,
which also contain flour and zambas, peas and beans,
herbs and tea.
The gifts pile up ever higher.
Among them is an entire slice of mutton.
And then eggs and more eggs.
As a special delicacy, a smoked
pig arrives.
At last the Lama hands over the white veil of friendship
and asks us to accept these gifts.
In well-put words the leader of our expedition
expresses his gratitude and reiterates our friendship and assurances
for His Holiness and the minister, with the wish
that Gods and demons may bless the bond of heartfelt understanding.
In order to protect us against attacks of unfriendly, untrusting Lamas
the government placed servants armed with truncheons at their disposal.
Under their protection we can travel unharrassed through Lhasa.
We listen to the relentless singing of the bricklayers,
which banish malicious spirits from the work place.
Walls are laid with rough, unshaped stones
and filled up with brickearth as a wet binding agent.
The rhythm of the song pounds with the noise of hard rocks.
At the margin of a city street a thief squats with his head
locked in the stocks.
After a conviction criminals are sentenced and given this punishment
for several days, until they disappear in the large dungeons of the capital.
Next to us; a criminal trapped in an iron collar and leg irons cowers.
Despite abusive denunciations his relatives stand at his side
and provide him with zamba and tea.
As in all Asian cities the entire
life in Lhasa takes place in front of the houses.
Blacksmiths, masters of a little respected craft, are often women.
Poor but undemanding, as most people in Tibet, are the inhabitants of Lhasa.
They know no abundance,
the only thing they have is plenty of free time.
Thus their work is carried out in deliberate calm.
For hours the Tibetans meet outside to cleanse and scrub each other down.
Aside from this activity intimate family life can be
seen taking place on the street everyday.
New Year's Eve brings agitation and excitement to street life.
Fortune telling beggars appear.
Pilgrims, from far away outside the province,
observe the big-city life with much curiosity.
The followers of these pilgrims become larger in number, each time bigger.
Convent communities march together.
As with the Muslims and their pilgrimage to Mecca it is the highest aim in life
and the of foremost luck for Lamaists
to experience the beginning of the new year at the sanctuary of Lhasa.
With reverence and amazement,
the pilgrims look at and bow to the monumental walls the Potala
that was erected by the Dalai Lamas to honor the Gods
and as a visible sign of spiritual and all conquering power.
Dazzled the believer stands in front of the golden grandeur of the housetops.
A religious shiver runs through him
and makes him recognize the visualized fantasy of his belief.
Lhasa and its surroundings
have become one giant temple these days,
filled with the pilgrims' prayers.
From the early morning till the late evening
they stroll from one sanctum to another.
With the hollow sound of the prayer drums
the monks try to increase the enthusiasm of the believers.
These days devoted Lamas
are the unconfirmed leaders of the Holy City.
Even the ministers have been unseated
and all governmental power has been transferred to two main abbots.
The city can no longer shelter the masses of monks and pilgrims.
Thus outside the city an enormous camp has been constructed.
Even the citizens of Lhasa celebrate the greatest of all feasts here.
The Gologs and Kampas,
predacious nomads from the Northeast of the country
are allocated to a separate camping site.
They travelled to Lhasa in order to atone for theft,
rape and manslaughter,
and to appease the Gods regarding future atrocities.
New Year's Eve is also a time for celebration.
According to ritual at New Year's, we also set up a pavilion,
and here, in the open, we invite government representatives for
an Asian-style feast.
Before Chaang, the traditional New Year's beer is drunk,
the ritual demands us to offer
our drinks to the spirits of the region.
The wild fervor of the Highland people
reveals itself during the frantic moves of the folk dance.
The festival really starts to liven up.
At the banquet a shooting match between servants and dignitaries takes place.
The arrows buzz while flying toward the target.
The long distance bows are made from a special hardened wood.
Horsemen ride wild horses beside targets with enormous speed.
They fire their rifles while galloping
and outdistance their enemy to win the game.
Riderless horses dash through the streets, cheered on by the masses.
On their backs the Gods are supposed to ride into Lhasa.
Obstacles and barriers are scattered around the Potala palace.
Solemnly the Lamas march to the dance.
At the end of the year
the worshippers again face the terrible grimaces of the demons.
They remind man of his mortality
and reveal the shape and outline of the creatures
that expect him in the Bardo, between death and reincarnation.
A bewildering dance of masks and faces greets us,
signalling the end of the old year.
A hundred Lamas ride through the gate of the holiest temple of Lhasa,
the great living place of the Gods,
accompanying the greatest conjurer priest of Tibet,
in solemn procession.
All evil elements,
devils and demons,
all ills that have taken possession of the city during the past year
are now banished
and their spell, destroyed.
A pyramid possessed by the devil is taken out as a gift to the spirits.
The sounds of drums and cymbals echo. A magic drink is drunk which,
throws the masses into ecstasy.
The masses can't be restrained anymore,
for now arrives the great guard of destiny, the hero of the day,
in demonic intoxication, possessed by supernatural powers,
and gifted with the magic potency to dislodge and destroy
the spellbound devils and ill-omened forces,
he dashes through the streets.
The Lamas gather around the high priest
who collapses in between them.
The great act of exorcism is done,
the fight against supernatural enemies
has been brought to a victorious end.
Now the masses turn to the heroes of the battlefield.
They pay homage to the generals,
showering them with thousands of white veils
that signify purity and earthly fortune.
For it was the ancestors of the generals
who once, under the leadership of the mighty Mongol ruler, Gushri Khan,
formed this land now known as Tibet.
A glorious parade of crowds and soldiers
now march through the streets of the capital.
Warriors from all parts of the country take part,
and are equipped with glorious weapons,
body armour and helmets from their victorious ancestors.
The proud parade heads toward the holy temple
to honor the Gods in order to
gain their protection and support.
Excited anticipation can be felt all around the camp outside the city.
Ministers, dignitaries and notables
arrive at the camp in sumptuous silk robes.
As representatives of the Dalai Lamas
the members of the Cabinet take a seat in the tent
and receive a full report from the troops.
Like a vision of Asian history,
like an image from heroic Asian times,
they ride along.
A medieval cavalcade in a medieval state.
They head toward the festival.
The warrior offers a silver plate and toasts his drink to the Gods.
The public servants announce the strength
and readiness of their troops to the dignitaries.
Their weapons glisten and are razor sharp.
Their shields are unbreakable and hard.
Their horses are huge beasts and lightning fast.
The warriors are brisk and battle-scarred.
They turn around the horses.
This great feast of Gods and men
reaches a climax.
A last dance from centuries past beckons, the new year begins.
Tibet remains untouched
in the midst of a war-shaken world.
There its armored warriors ride,
fraught with the fanatic will to maintain their country's peace and isolation
by virtue of their own strength and their own belief in
whatever the future may bring.
Subtitles: Empedokles, Nine99, africaiwillfleeceyou, Corvusalbus
For more infomation >> 次のバスは来る…辛抱強さが大事な理由（動画） - Duration: 1:45. 
For more infomation >> Shadow: 3D Motion Capture
For more infomation >> L'IMAGINARIUM #3 - Les lutins - Duration: 9:50. 
For more infomation >> Hamilton Academical v Inverness Caledonian Thistle (Tue 31 January 2017 Match Summary) - Duration: 2:46. 
For more infomation >> Nous somme nature avec Anthony Daumont et Sparrow - Duration: 3:51. 
For more infomation >> BODYBUILDING MOTIVATION CALUM VON MOGER - NEW LEVEL | Bodybuilding motivation 2017 | Iron House #88 - Duration: 4:01. 
For more infomation >> Peugeot 208 STYLE 1.2 PURE TECH 82 5-D - Duration: 1:48. 
For more infomation >> Peugeot 208 STYLE 1.2VTI 82PK 5-D NIEUW BINNEN!!! - Duration: 1:27. 
For more infomation >> USS Enterprise (CVN-65) & USS Dwight D. Eisenhower (CVN-69) - Duration: 4:44. 
For more infomation >> Evan Ross draws spoton likeness of mother Diana Ross - Duration: 1:45. 
No comments:
Post a Comment