29 March 2021, a competition was announced for original Tibetan language literature. It is one of several privately funded cultural awards I have heard about recently, and I think this is an interesting new phenomenon worth examining. When people on Twitter asked for more information, I thought I'd just do a VERY rough translation and put it here. The original call from the WeChat account of the Gangjyan Youth Newspaper can be found here:
A note; the name of the award, Thonmi's translation refers to Thonmi Sambhota who is considered the creator of the Tibetan writing system, composed several grammatical texts, and is one of Tibet's great translators Announcement spreading the "Thonmi lotsa " Award National Tibetan Children's Story Competition Because Children's stories For our own Tibetan children, because of the way that good readers are scarce (let alone good children's stories written in the father tongue [Tibetan]), the Tsongon (Qinghai Province) Thonmi Information Science and Technology LLC provided abundant capital and in cooperation without editorial office has first National Tibetan Children's Literature Competition in the Gangjyan Youth Newspaper from May 20, 2021 to May 20, 2022. Firstly, this is aimed at the poor situation mentioned above, and secondly aimed at letting the collaborative ability of Tibetan literature in general and children's literature in particular to emerge. We, with complete sincerity, are welcoming writers to voluntarily enter this competition. Additionally, we have listed below some points to take notice of and heed: 1) All writing new in Tibetan, authors young, old, and middle-aged, may participate 2)As it is said, an image is worth a thousand words, simple language and easy to understand, suitable for children, and should be conveyed by the artistic beauty, the beauty of the images, and the beauty of the thoughts, etc. The contents must be highly stimulating development and educational. 3) [Submissions must be] Not more than 2000 characters, the font must be Himalaya. Submissions must be sent to our editorial office email address ([email protected]) before April 30, 2022 with the subject line: Children's story competition. 4)Because plagiarism is bad behavior, one must not plagiarize another's work, and one must absolutely not translate another country's or nationality's children's story and pass it off as one's own. 5) We will invite judges in June 2022, and complete a fair and careful evaluation. The prizes are one first prize, 10,000 RMB, 2 second prizes each winning 6,000 RMB, and 3 third prizes each winning 3,000 RMB. 6) Later, to facilitate sending prize money, certificates, and royalties, authors must write their names (as appearing on the IDs), address, contact phone number, ID number, bank account number, and the name of their bank in both Tibetan and Chinese at the end of their message.
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I've been a bit snowed under recently and have been unable to finish any of the longer posts I've started writing. So here's a brief post, written without much of the reflection or extra work that accompanies my longer offerings:
Today, on the way home from the from work, I was looking at recent posts on the popular messaging application WeChat, and saw a post by famous Tibetan comedian-poet-intellectual Sman bla skyabs. Since his retirement from performance, he has mostly devoted his creative attention to writing song lyrics. Apparently after receiving some criticism over one rdung len song's lyrics, he took to WeChat to defend it. Without going into all the details (as that would necessitate a much longer post, I was intrigued in particular by his discussion specifically about mdo dbus khams rong bzhi. I had never heard the phrase before, and judging by Sman bla skyabs's defense of its use, I gather that he was criticized for this innovative wording. The grammar makes enough sense. Tibetan speakers commonly list a number of terms and then, at the end, provides the number of terms (a b c, the three). For example, the traditional phrase mdo dbus khams gsum might literally be translated as "A mdo, Dbus gtsang, and Khams, the three." The phrase refers to all three traditionally defined Tibetan regions: A mdo (comprised of parts of Qinghai, Sichuan, and Gansu Provinces), Dbus gtsang (parts of the Tibet Autonomous Region) and Khams (parts of Western Sichuan, Qinghai, the TAR, and Yunnan). In his song lyrics, Sman bla skyabs chose to eschew the traditional phrasing for a novel one (though still based on this traditional formula): Mdo dbus khams rong bzhi, "A mdo, Dbus gtsang, Khams, and [rgyal] rong, the four." The final term, rong, refers to Rgyal rong, a region in present-day Sichuan's Aba (Rnga ba) Tibetan and Qiang Autonomous Prefecture. Long marginal to both Han China and the rest of Tibet, Rgyal rong comprises a geographic and cultural borderland region. Some Tibetans suggest that people from Rgyal rong are not true Tibetans. Others insist that the Rgyal rong language is a very archaic form of Tibetan. Despite this marginal status, when identifying the different ethnic minority groups in China, the people of Rgyal rong were classified as Tibetans. Seen in this light, Sman bla skyabs's phrasing is significant. Instead of bowing to tradition, he chose to discursively incorporate Rgyal rong within the Tibetan cultural sphere. Though Sman bla skyabs may have been criticized for this phrasing, he insisted that his goal was to encourage Tibetans of all regions to thun sgril 'united'. This is an extension of a larger Tibetan cultural concern with ethnic unity. It remains to be seen, however, if the explicit inclusion of Rgyal rong within the Tibetan cultural world is a one-off or the beginning of a new movement. In December of 2014, I sat down with some of the people from the Yushu-based Rewa Clothing Company, a clothing company that makes mid-priced* Tibetan-inspired clothing on the Tibetan Plateau. Though far from the only socially conscious business (several Tibetan-owned travel agencies, donate percentages of their profits to local groups), or the only locally-operated clothing business on the Tibetan Plateau ("Tsampa Eaters" རྩམ་པ་ཟ་མཁན། comes to mind), Rewa's innovative approach to business has generated significant social profile. Intrigued by this new model and curious about the owners' motivations, I scheduled a time to sit down with them and talk. One wintry afternoon, 'Jigs seng, and the founder (who I only know as Eric), and I, sat around a small table drinking coffee in one of Xining's ever-growing number of cafes. In today's post, I reflect on our chat, complementing my own observations with direct quotes from the conversation.** Their thoughts reveal much about young Tibetans' ideas about business and culture in twenty-first century Qinghai.
Firstly, let's start with a brief explanation of the name. Rewa means 'hope.' It comes from the Tibetan རེ་བ། Re ba. Their name Romanizes the term based on pronunciation in their native dialect (Khams). When asked about the name and its logo (in which a Tibetan antelopes head is drawn about the Tibetan རེ་བ། and the English "rewa"), 'Jigs seng told me: Rewa "stands for hope... So then, the second part. Rewa. r-e-w-a, it's, uh, translated from "rewa" Tibetan rewa. And the Tibetan antelope. It's very thoughtful, actually. He [Eric] did a really good job. When people see the picture, it's the Tibetan antelope. Automatically people will say [the word] "Tibet" first. You know? And everyone will know Tibet means antelope. Then "Tibet" comes first. And then second of all, it's, in Chinese as well, it's called zanglingyang 藏羚羊. Zang [the Chinese word for Tibet] always comes first. And people will say it, you know? It's pretty obvious that people can see it comes from Tibet. And third, the Tibetan antelope is a very popular animal. you know. 'Cause It was one of the auspicious animals in China during the Olympics. It was nominated for and selected as one of the best animals in China. Whatever they called it. And so, and then, when it comes to why the animal was looking back instead of forward, it's because we wanted to deliver the message to say 'We all need help, hope,' and, and, it's a calling to human wisdom to the peace of the world. That's the initial idea why it was designed like this." Clearly, the symbolism behind the name, the logo, and their goals in relation to the Tibetan community has been carefully thought-out. Most importantly, the Rewa clothing company is particularly concerned with positively influencing Tibetan culture in the twenty-first century: "So far we've done a lot of charity work. At the very beginning when we were very small, when we were not really developed enough economically, we, we helped random families who are definitely really poor. We supplied clothing to them. We supplied financial help to them as well. And then last year, we moved to another stage of doing charity work. We helped the Rwa rgya school. We manufactured over 1300 schoolbags, and we gave all those to all the students and teachers in Rwa rgya school. And we also had an extra 600 bags given to the elites in Tibet. That includes monks, scholars, teachers, and other people who have made a difference in terms of economic, economics, and other areas. So we gave al those bags to those people. And then second of all, there's an orphanage school in Golok, it has 200 students there, so we supplied winter clothing to them, and it over course had the Rewa logo on it… "Then, um, … we also worked with one of the schools there to produce a book, edit a book, it's all new Tibetan vocabulary translated from English or Chinese. New things like "cup" or "car" or "motorcycle." Because We see the problem in society. We mix Tibetan with Chinese or English. And that's a very sad situation to see, because we do have the potential to make it better. To speak pure Tibetan. But as time goes by, the teenagers lose their ability potential to speak pure Tibetan. It's because they lose the terms. They don't have a common term for specific things. So that's why we worked with the school and published a book that includes all the vocabulary for new stuff, or old stuff that we don't normally use (any more) in Tibetan to help the people speak pure Tibetan. "Then next year, we're planning to launch a project that, we will take several elder, who are abandoned by their families and who are desperately poor, but who are… genuine Buddhists. But they don't have any financial help to get to Lhasa to make their pilgrimage dreams come true. So we're, I think we're working on it right now, that we'll support maybe ten elders from Tibet to help their dream come true. The value of this is because [sic] most Tibetan elders are uneducated. All they know is Buddhism. They're loyal to Buddhism, and committed to it. And coming to Lhasa is one of their biggest dreams is to go to Lhasa before they pass away… you know in tibetan we say "dge ba" charity, it's a work of compassion. And if we can work with some elders and help their dreams come true. It means a lot for them and for us as well." Most recently, the clothing company also joined with Rewa children's home, an orphanage and school in Yushu Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture) to commission a song and music video in Bde skyid tshe ring's new album, supplied the young rapper in his most famous song of the new album. The two groups also combined to host a special, privately-funded New Year's gala. With emcees speaking three different languages, two speakers emphasizing the importance of learning Tibetan language and culture, and a variety of famous singers including their normal endorsers, Nor b+ha ནོར་བྷ།, Lha lung mtsho ལྷ་ལུང་མཚོ།, and Skal bzang yon tan སྐལ་བཟང་ཡོན་ཏན། among others. Finally, the group is interested in encouraging humanitarianism and innovation through endowing a special award for Tibetans, described by the owners as a Tibetan Nobel prize. But Rewa would not have the financial clout to intervene in Tibetan cultural issues without a novel business approach--and most importantly an aggressive marketing campaign--that sets them apart from their competitors. Rewa is one of the first Tibetan brands to actively seek out celebrity endorsers. In doing so, they locked down two of the most recognizable faces on the Tibetan Plateau: Mgo log native and singer Shir bstan (Ch: Xiedan 谢丹) and Yushu rapper/singer/amateur filmmaker Bde skyid tshe ring (on youtube his name is often written as Dekyi Tsering, Ch: 德吉才让). These two famous performers appear in Rewa's advertisements, and even participate in some of their other projects. For this, they get (at the very least) the newest iPhones, and a seemingly endless supply of the newest Rewa clothing. Rewa's clothes combine a very modern design style with images and emblems of the Tibetan tradition. They are designed locally, but made at factories throughout "Inner China," and set at an intentionally high price point to generate the perception of being a luxury purchase. Interestingly, until this year, Rewa only made men's clothing. The reasoning behind this was that, contrary to Western culture, in Tibetan culture, men are the big spenders and generally control a majority of a family's funds. With 2015 have procured an American importer to sell Rewa clothing in the United States and added a children's line, and complemented this by sponsoring a music video on Dekyi Tsering's new (2014) album in which he sings with several children, all of whom sport clothing with the Rewa logo featured prominently on it. Talking with these two young, charismatic entrepreneurs, I wondered whether or not their example might point towards a new trend on the Tibetan Plateau, in which educated, socially-conscious entrepreneurs seek to give back to communities in a variety of ways. All in all, the young men of Rewa Clothing company might be onto a new model. At the very least, their work is making waves on the Tibetan Plateau. Their inventive advertising model has quickly been adopted by other Tibetan-owned companies, and they are also pioneering new forms of engagement between Tibetan-owned companies and local communities from which they come. With increased restrictions on Non-Government Organizations and their operations, socially conscious for-profit companies may be the next wave of social development in Tibetan areas of China, and the owners of Rewa hope to lead the way. *Mid-priced means that they are below the price of most name-brand imports, but much more expensive than the cheaper clothes available in shopping streets. **it's worth pointing out that I have taken liberties with the transcription, eliding over certain pauses for the sake of readability. I've also written some of the answers in an order different to their asking in the conversation. One of the interesting culinary developments in Western China over the last two years has been the decline of the storefront restaurant. In its place, the home restaurant has grown in popularity. Now, before continuing, perhaps it is worth telling you all precisely what I mean by "home restaurant." A home restaurant is located in an apartment that has either been purchased or rented for the purpose of running some sort of restaurant out of it. They are then decorated in the style of many other restaurants--the bed rooms serve as private dining rooms, while the living room may be decorated in some other fashion. Some home restaurants split the living room into several stalls, thereby making room for more customers. One restaurant has a black tent in its living room in which customers can sit and eat. Still another restaurant drapes the walls in black yak hair felt to simulate the experience of the black tent. These home restaurants are rapidly becoming a popular and unique eating establishments for groups of friends to gather for meals. But why are so many restaurants opening in apartments? And why are people preferring these eateries to others?
One probably factor is economic: budding restauranteurs are opting to open home restaurants because of the relatively cheap start-up costs. A home restaurant only costs as much as it takes to rent an apartment. Alternatively, if the owner purchases an apartment, and the venture fails, their family still has a place to live. But there's more to it than this, I imagine. First of all, several of these establishments are (probably, I haven't asked) unregistered and therefore not subject to the same tax regulations. Additionally, to my understanding opening a restaurant with a storefront requires not only paying the rent, but also a zhuanrang fei 转让费 'transfer fee,' (like a subletting fee) for transferring the lease from one tenant to the next. Even in a relatively "small" city like Xining, these regularly cost over 100,000 RMB (over 15,000 USD). That's a fairly sizable outlay for a new business. Thirdly, allows businesses without traditional storefronts to advertise their establishment without spending any money. I think this is called viral marketing. Home restaurants have fewer walk-in clients, but once the word gets out they do a fairly steady business. An interesting side-element to this, is that several of the eateries are actually owned by single families that have turned their enterprise into a family chain. Notable examples would be singer/blogger/intellectual/women's rights activist Jamyang kyi ('Jam dbyangs skyid) whose family now operates three such restaurants in Xining and one in Lhasa. For the second question, as to why people prefer these eateries to others, there might also be a variety of reasons. The privacy these restaurants offer often makes them ideal for groups of people to sit and talk (as opposed to some larger restaurants), the food is often--though not always--excellent, and is handmade. They may appreciate the increased privacy that the home restaurant offers, or the unique ambience. Finally, a restauranteur's mobile number may be used as the restaurant's main contact information, and customers may become connected on WeChat or follow each other on other social networking platforms. Over the course of visits and social media correspondence, restaurant owners often become acquainted with their customers on a more personal level (and vice-versa), and form relationships that transcend the traditional manager-client . One last point worth considering, is that the home restaurant has by no means replaced the storefront restaurant, which remain the dominant style of eatery. Either way, this is an interesting phenomenon. There is a panel at the upcoming AAS meeting on the ways Tibetans inhabit urban environments. I'll be interested to see if anyone is going to report on the rise of the home restaurant, or on the way (as reported in an earlier post) Yushu Tibetans recreate their religious sites, and even the Yushu ritual calendar, in the big city. First off, let me wish a (belated) happy lunar new year to all of you readers out there. I hope that the year of the sheep treats all of you very well, and wish you only the best things in the year that follows.
I had several interesting experiences while celebrating this year's new year, and it's on this topic that I'd like to dwell for today's post. But before I get to the real issue as discussed in the title, perhaps a brief play-by-play of the evening is worthwhile: 3pm: Tsomo's grandfather calls us to come over to his home 3:30: we arrive and help make dumplings. Lots and lots of dumplings. 5: Eating dumplings. Lots and lots of dumplings. 7:55: Qinghai Province's Losar dgong tshogs. Drinking. Lots and lots of drinking. 10:45: Home. All in all, this sounds like a pretty uneventful evening, right? Well, there were several points that made this notable. I'm going to save the most important for last. 1) It's a very strange experience to watch yourself on TV. As loyal readers might recall, I was fortunate enough to play a role in the Qinghai Province Losar dgong tshogs this year. It was a blast, but watching oneself (and how little hair one has left) on television is a very bizarre experience. Reactions were tepid. The Qinghai Province show is less popular than in 2010. The shows produced over the last few years were quite underwhelming. In fact, last year's was probably the worst ever. This year featured plenty of stars, and a decent comedy. it was alright. But perhaps it is too late to regain audience interest. The group with which I watched the show was composed entirely of Khampas. The Khampas were a little bit generally feel alienated by the Show's overwhelmingly A mdo flavor. This year, however, featured a good number of Khampa singers, and the groups commented excitedly any time a person from Yushu stepped onto the stage. In fact, the group generally conversed amongst themselves until a recognizable figure would step on stage. Conversation would resume again after the Khampa had left the stage. 2) Perhaps the most intriguing topic of conversation on the night revolved around our consumption of dumplings. Before going over to my grandfather-in-law's home, Tsomo and I had discussed dumplings. She expressed concern that this year's celebration would follow a tradition that is more Han than Tibetans. In fact, after the question was broached, it became a topic of concern for the group more generally. They didn't stop making the dumplings, but they did feel the need to discuss what it meant to celebrate a Tibetan holiday. No conclusions were reached. Most interestingly, Tsomo was concerned with why her family never ate dgu thug 'Nine Noodles' as is common in Lhasa. Dgu thug, she had decided, was an authentic food for Tibetans. In fact, however, she had never had Dgu thug. When she was younger, her family had eaten mogmog (also called momo a bready sort of dumpling), and boiled meat. She had also reminisced earlier in the week about sheep's heads. Her father, who hails from Chumarleb, confirmed that this is the traditional new year's food for nomadic areas, and this generally coincides with my own experiences. So why, if people had grown up with "nomad food" at the holiday, were they suddenly keen to discuss dgu thug? In some ways the answers become obvious when we look at the expression of larger concerns of being Tibetan. What, many ask, does it mean to be Tibetan in twenty-first century China? Well, there are as many answers to this as there are people, I would imagine, and really answering this question requires a book (if not several) and not simply a blog post. Nevertheless, we start to see answers when we look beyond food or this particular festival, to other trends that have come out in the course of my research/blogging. Schools forcing people to dance "traditional dances" before class regardless of whether or not students want to do these dances (or even traditionally did these dances prior to the twenty-first century) because they are authentic, traditional, and And let's not pretend that these are isolated concerns. Several cultures and places around the world have undergone and continue to undergo crises of authenticity (Regina Bendix's excellent book In Search of Authenticity is a prime resource if you any of you want to take a stroll down German folklore studies' memory lane). In China more general the crisis of authenticity is in some ways compounded by the fact that people are surrounded with foods, medicines, and electronic devices that are considered to be "fake." The concern with authenticity, purity, and nature has exploded in China and particular in the rapidly changing Tibetan areas of Western China. Now, with ethnic minority groups defined as sharing a single language, culture, territory, and economic basis, the hegemony of reified definitions takes on a life of its own. So, now to return to the question that headlines this post, "What does it mean to "be Tibetan" at the New Year"? There seemed to be an intense concern with precisely this question at this year's new year party? Is it food? Language? Is it the festivals and the way people act one day each year? The songs you sing or the people you visit? Is it the date on which you celebrate the new year (less of an issue this year as the Tibetan and Chinese calendars happened to coincide). The next day, the answer seemed (at least to me) to provide some resolution to the question. In the morning, we poured milk-mixed with water on each other's foreheads while praying for auspiciousness in the new year. Then, we went to a small monastery in Xining, and watched several generations of Tibetans circumambulate the structure, burn butter lamps, and prostrate before deities. Perhaps this was the answer my wife sought all along. Perhaps the question should not be so much what is consumed, as the people with whom you consume it... Dear all,
I have much to write but no time for writing at the moment. I will attempt to pick up again in mid-March with a post about this year's lunar new year festivities (albeit a month late). In lieu of all that, I'm putting up a word cloud from my blog as of February 2015. Now, let's remember that word clouds are flawed tools. They provide facts without context. In the case of my blog, they also fail to account for polysyllabic semantic units from other languages (which are most often separated in my romanization with spaces between the syllables). Nevertheless, they are all the rage these years, and I thought I should get in on the action. So without further ado: Every winter, thousands of Khampas descend on Sengze Village, just outside of Skye dgu (Jiegu) the prefectural seat of Yushu Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture, for a religious festival called Sa skya smon lam (locally pronounced as Sakya may nlom). The festival is incredibly important to the Sa skya sect of Buddhism, but (as Dkon mchog dge legs describes in his 2009 article) also is vital to the local economy. In recent years, however, more and more Khampas have begun spending their winters in the warmer and far more comfortable urban center of Xining. What to do? Well, the sheer volume of Yushu natives living in Xining has led Skye dgu monastery to open a branch monastery here in town.
A stone's throw away from the Tibetan hospital, and close to a vast majority of the Yushu-heavy residential areas, the monks of Skye dgu monastery have purchased an entire building in an apartment complex and converted it into a monastery in the city. Permeated with the smell of butter lamps and fumigation offerings, it smells like any other monastery, although the surroundings and noise pollution quickly jolt you back into the reality of Xining. It does not dominate the city in the same impressive way that Skye dgu monastery towers over the town bearing the same name, but it is a center of activity for many from Yushu. This year, the prayer festival began on January 1st. While pictures on social networking sites made it clear that Sengze was the place to be, a small group of (particularly elderly) Yushu Tibetans could be found gathered inside the Xining branch of the monastery, chanting, while others spun prayer wheels, or lit butter lamps. They even have an impressive kitchen in which food and tea are prepared. There were so many worshippers present that people had to sit outside the main prayer hall and chant along as the lead monk, using a microphone, had speakers placed around the area. Here are some iPhone images from the event and the place. It has been quite the year. So much so, in fact, that I have forgotten entirely about maintaining this blog. As there are a few moments today while I'm letting some recent experiences percolate, I've decided to write a little update on what has happened since my last post. First however, let me give some highlights: 1) The first ever evening show dedicated to Tbtn comedic dialogue, hosted in Hongyuan County 2) Pilgrimage around Amyes Rma chen mountain 3) The horse race festival resumes in Yushu! 4) Travel to Lhasa 5) States in October 6) Conference on Yi Studies in Chengdu 7) Performing a sketch comedy for the Qinghai Tbtn television station's New Year Variety Show མདོ་ཁམས་ཡུལ་གྱི་སྐབས་དང་པོའི་གར་ཆུང་དང་ཁ་ཤགས་ཀྱི་དགོང་ཚོགས་ཆེན་མོ། A mdo's First Sketch Comedic and Comedic Dialogue Evening Show At the end of June and the beginning of July, I attended the first ever evening show dedicated exclusively to performances of Tibetan comedy. Although Sman bla skyabs has retired and was not present, there were excellent performances from Sog phrug shes rab (2 of them), Mgon tho, 'Jam dbyangs blo gros, Gnam lha 'bum, and even a unique finale in which Zhi bde nyi ma performed one of the first ever natively written and produced A mdo Tibetan one-act tragedy. Interestingly, three performances featured discussions of the popular social networking application, WeChat. Two others featured discussions of fake foods, and several also included discussions of language purity. Together they suggest the prevalent issues of 2014 A mdo. Pilgrimage to A myes Rma chen རྟ་ལོ་གངས་ར་ལུག་ལོ་མཚོ། rta lo gangs ra lug lo mtsho In the year of the horse, (circumambulate) mountains, and in the year of the sheep (circumambulate) lakes. The traditional saying tells about religious practice in the A mdo region. This year, is the year of the horse, as a result, it is a particularly auspicious year in which to circumambulate Tibet's holy mountains. For A mdo, the most famous is A myes Rma chen (pronounce Amnye Machen) in Mgo log TAP. For five and a half fantastic days, I circumambulated the mountain with three friends, and numerous others we met along the way. On the first day we walked from Tsha nag kha mdo, the traditional starting point, to one a site just short of our first major pass. It began to rain at about midnight, and the rainfly to our tent had not been shut properly (my fault) meaning my boots were pleasantly wet when we woke up and began our walk the next day. The rain continued throughout the morning, and as we rose up towards that first high pass, rta mchog gong ma, the rain turned first to sleet and then snow. It wasn't exactly fun, but it was still fantastic. Then we reached the pass, and found that we had arrived for the 15th of the lunar month. This meant that, far from being the only people there, we met up with about 20 young men who were worshipping at the pass and racing their horses. We ate a hurried lunch, and then walked on through the marshy plain towards west. We trudged all day, finally finding a camp at around six. Footweary, we were all glad to finish up for that second day. For the next three days, we had perfect weather, and were treated to beautiful sites, great travel companions, and a great time in general. I am thankful to Puhua, his nephew (also named Puhua…) and Rose for traveling with me. But no matter how brilliant my powers of description, my iPhone camera (not exactly a photographer's dream device, but good enough) tells the story far better than my words could. Yushu horse races resume! At the end of July, with young Kyle Walsh in town (my high school wrestling coach's son), we travelled to Tsomo's hometown where we caught the first horse race festival held in the town since 2007. It was a great occasion, although the four days is an unfortunately truncated version of a festival that--by all accounts--used to stretch for three weeks. Ah… the sweet sweet workings of capital. This meant that, spread throughout the prefectural seat, and double booked on top of each other, one could see: love song competitions, dance competitions, gesar performances and conferences, gesar opera, horse races, an art and photograph exhibit, yak races, and also partake in the myriad other activities that beautiful Yushu has to offer. In addition to the horse races, we also found time to check out Sengze Village, the valley featuring gorgeous Rewopo and rewomda villages, and Legs pa Gorge (Ch: le ba gou). Good times Lhasa Not content with what had already been a fantastic summer, we also took advantage of a small break in September to knock out another part of the "China Bucket list": Lhasa and the TAR. Although strange rules prohibiting a foreigner and a local from traveling together in the Western TAR prohibited us from circumambulating Kailash (a huge regret, and I guess we'll have to wait until the next year of the horse for that… #kailash2026!), we were able check out the sites around the capital including Yumbulagang, Samye, Ganden, the Potala, Mt. Everest, Shigatse, and more. Check out the photos below. The USofA in October Went home, met with the committee, applied for jobs, and attended the wedding of Samuel B. Johnson and Katy Svatek Johnson. Happy for them. The International Conference on Yi Literature and Culture in the Anglophone World Upon Return to China, I went to an Yi Studies Conference in Chengdu. It was great to see so many old friends, and to be reminded how many Chengdu people I have missed. I talked about Soul-Calling, Zomia, and the Tibeto-Yi corridor. It was well-received, which was a minor shock to me. What's even more, I wasn't the only token international person! There was also a Japanese scholar present. Very cool. In addition to meeting up with Yi poet/scholar/force-of-nature Aku Wuwu, I was able to learn about Yi kunju--a traditional genre of extemporaneously composed comedic verse--and make tentative plans to begin a project of collection and translation with Wuyi, a professor at Southwest University of the Nationalities. Performing a sketch comedy with Zhi bde nyi ma In mid-November, comedian/director/poet/teacher Zhi bde nyi ma approached me with an offer to perform with him at the New Year's show, with recording set for mid-December. In less than a month, a group of us prepared a sketch and performed it. Fantastic. I gained incredible insight into the process, which was essential for my dissertation, and now look forward to my new celebrity as "Tom the Australian" (better puns than "Tim the American). In it, I have to recite a poem, perform part of a bsang mchod and sing a song, all as part of a performance about cultural preservation where I, as foreign researcher, seem to authorize the discourse or preservation. More on that in future publications. The two strange things about Xining. I was talking to a cabbie today, and he mentioned the "two strange things about Xining." As he said it these as follows: 1) There are very few bicyclists in Xining. As opposed Chengdu-- where there is a special lane for bicyclists and scooter riders--or Beijing--where I remember one being more likely to be hit by a bicyclist than a car when crossing the street back in 2002--Xining has no specialized lanes, and though it is not uncommon to see cyclists riding around town, they are not present in the massive numbers associated with other cities. And 2) One sees no window-mounted air-conditioning units marring the external appearances of buildings. It never once occurred to me until he said it, but he's right. Xining's mild summer temperatures and perpetually concrete skyscrapers render air-conditioning unnecessary. Huh.
It's worth mentioning that I had never heard of these before today, but he said it so "matter-of-fact"ly that i felt like it must be part of a bigger discourse. I've been traveling around Western China a bit recently. It means there's much to write,and much less time in which to write it as I continually play catch up. Please bear with me. For now, feel free to go to the media page and click the link entitled "T!betan chess," where I watch a group of (mostly) old men sit on the sidewalk playing this game that looks like "Go" (but isn't) and is exclusive to A mdo (as far as I can tell... my father in law had never seen it before). I hope you enjoy.
I've recently come to the realization that many people digitally alter their photos before putting them online. I'm too much of a luddite, and too busy (perhaps I should have written lazy) to do this really. If you like the photos, take comfort in recognizing that what you see is what I saw exactly. Personally, I don't think photos on the plateau need any alteration. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then I don't see why half of them have to be "I cropped this photo, and add a sepia tone layer," etc. |
About TimAs you can see elsewhere on this webpage, I conduct research on ethnic minorities in western China. This blog offers semi-academic musings on the minutiae of daily life out here--the sort of information otherwise destined for footnotes. Categories |