The Calm After the Storm

We spent an enjoyable day hopping between the islands which lie off the coast of the Jaffna peninsular. We boarded a bus which teetered across a small sliver of raised land within the shallow lagoon. The water lapped gently below as the locals inspected us with curiosity. Inquisitive eyes searched for clues about the outside world, which for many of these people has remained a mystery for decades.

 

Palm trees dominated the landscape, joined by sporadic clusters of housing. A large proportion of these buildings remain uninhabited; reclaimed by nature they stand as overgrown, dishevelled monuments to the number of displaced Tamils. Most are without roofs and scarred with bullet holes. Once homes and schools, these organs of society have ceased to function, ravaged by the cancer of war. Yet humanity prevails on the islands. Although still far from previous levels of occupation, local communities operate peacefully and gleefully within previously unimaginable levels of freedom. 

 

The most populated stop on our exploration was the island of Nainativu (Tamil) or Nagadipa (Sinhala). This island is home to the ancient Hindu shrine of Sri Nagapooshani Amman and the Buddhist shrine Nagadipa Purana Vihare. Flocks of Sinhalese Buddhists and Tamil Hindus make the journey to this previously inaccessible site of worship. It is here that the Buddha is said to have stayed during his visit to the island, while the Hindu Kovil is of immense importance for the ancient, snake-worshipping Naga inhabitants of the island. We boarded a boat with many Sinhalese Buddhists dressed in the customary white outfits of pilgrimage. There was an uneasy atmosphere as the inhabitants of the south explored an area of their own country so alien to them that they clearly felt insecure. As the boat approached the jetty my chest tightened. On first impressions it appeared that visitors docked and departed from an area next to the Buddhist place of worship, entirely bypassing the important Hindu Kovil further up the coastline. Thankfully it became clear that visitors enter through the former and depart via the latter, therefore avoiding unnecessary provocation.

 

The sites are of little architectural interest, having taken their current form in recent years. Far more interesting was the interaction, or lack of, between the two sets of cultures. The Sinhalese would pay their respects at the Buddhist shrine and then shuffle quickly past the Hindu Kovil, largely ignored by the Tamil contingent. Eyes would dart side to side and pilgrims would avoid making direct eye contact. Hazell and I were the only white faces and seemed to add a third party outlet for the tension. Unexpectedly, outside the Hindu Kovil, I ended up on the lap of the campest Tamil man I had ever met. I laughed nervously as he tried to make me comfortable on his slight frame.

 

On the boat journey back I was prevented from taking photographs of a sensitive docking point, a firm reminder that restraints are still operational in the area. We bumped into an interesting German named Walter who was stunned to discover we were tourists rather than NGO workers. Walter had been working in Sri Lanka for 25 years, so could be classed as an aficionado on the Sri Lanka conflict. He spoke fluent Sinhala and Tamil, conversing fluently to all Sri Lankans he met. He described his relationship with Sri Lanka as ’love/hate’, which was not the first time we had heard this term used. After so many years he felt his time to leave had come. I was struck by the tone of frustration which underpinned his description of a career dedicated to a single country. We blagged ourselves a lift, as characteristically, we had no idea where we were going. In the comfort of a company owned 4WD car we discussed the role of the Sri Lankan government, the UN and NGO’s in general. Walter concluded that many lives have been lost unnecessarily in Sri Lanka over the past thirty years; with better intervention the number of fatalities could have been reduced enormously.

 

We left Jaffna full of adoration for the locals and the environment. As we bounced past the minefields on the A9 towards the south, we discussed ways we might be able to help the area. A man next to me asked us where we were from and I explained our situation. He introduced himself as a Major of the Sri Lankan army; his regiment were currently developing infrastructure in the Jaffna area. He asked what I did, presuming I was an NGO worker, and I explained that I had previously worked in television. Mention of the media changed the tone of the conversation and his thick black moustache seemed to take on a firmer line.

 

He told me the Sri Lankan army are ’rebuilding these peoples lives’ and aiming ’to win their hearts and minds’. He showed me some picture postcard images of the south printed in his army issue diary. I flipped the pages and read the message from the Sri Lankan General written in English on the inside cover. The words were the exact same ’official line’ that had emanated from the mouth of my companion on the bus. I wondered how much money had been spent on issuing one of these diaries to every member of the Sri Lankan army. Passively, I enquired about reports in the western media of human rights abuses by the Sri Lankan army. He smiled and said, ’you’re reading the wrong media’. The Major invited us to dinner at his house just outside Colombo when we were next in town. He gave me his telephone number to which I later sent a text containing my email address and a friendly request to ’stay in touch’. We haven’t heard from the Major since.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Meeting an Old Friend

Nearly six months in India had left its mark both emotionally and physically on us both. It truly is ‘Incredible India’, as the tourism board proclaim, though perhaps with an unintentional breadth of meaning. Having been entirely consumed by a single country for so long, we were shocked, saddened and joyous upon leaving. We were also slightly frustrated at having to take our first flight since departure from the UK. In previous years a boat service was available between Tamil Nadu and Sri Lanka but the outbreak of war saw an end to the route which has yet to be resumed. My suggestion of swimming however fell on deaf ears.

Our first taste of Asia had been in Sri Lanka in 2006, and we were therefore very excited to be reuniting with an old friend. We were particularly interested in our personal reactions to the country given our greater travel experience this time around. There was also the added bonus of freedom to travel to areas that were previously off limits during the war.

We touched down in Negombo in the middle of the night and gained some comfort from familiar sights as we walked through arrivals, namely the bright white of a welcoming Buddha statue closely followed by the equally radiant duty free fridges and washing machines. No buses were running at that time, so we jumped in a taxi with two bizarre Flemish guys who fell asleep on Hazell. My change in perception was immediately apparent, (not of Hazell, people always fall asleep on her). The main road leading towards Colombo had seemed so exotic, hectic and dishevelled five years ago, unlike anything I had seen before, but having just left India it seemed utopian, and it was me who displayed the former characteristics. Bleary eyed, we stumbled around on arrival in Hikkaduwa looking for a guest house, taking the first offer that emanated from the 5am darkness.

I had recently finished Ghandi’s autobiography, an inspiring read that tells the story of his life up to the point of his independence movement in India. In Sri Lanka we were to spend time volunteering for the Manacare Foundation, and it was with Ghandi’s words fresh in my mind that I proceeded:

‘Such service can have no meaning unless one takes pleasure in it. When it is done for show or for fear of public opinion, it stunts the man and crushes his spirit. Service which is rendered without joy helps neither the servant nor the served. But all other pleasures and possession pale into nothingness before service which is rendered in a spirit of joy.’

We were both a little nervous about offering our services, especially as we were unsure what our tasks would involve. These fears were allayed later in the day when we met the Chairman of Manacare, Joy. She picked us up next to the beach in a small red car and welcomed us in with a ’Hello darlings!’, before taking us to her home within the greenery, away from the coastline. There we met a friend who was visiting named Gaye, and we were offered tea and biscuits by a Sri Lankan maid. At this stage we were starved of sleep and feeling a little disoriented, so transmigration to the days of the British Empire came as quite a shock. This aside, we felt immediately at home and Joy informed us of her worldwide activities and current projects in Sri Lanka. Manacare has projects in Uganda, South Africa, Siberia and the Philippines to name a few; all of which Joy has developed during her ’retirement’. She takes no salary from any of her work, instead living on the money she made from diamond mining, a previous profession which she did ’relatively well in’. Other side projects have included digging up dinosaur eggs in the Gobi Desert and selling them to Japanese collectors.

The following day we visited the Manacare Village in Telwatta, a community that was devastated by the 2004 Tsunami. Soon after the disaster donations were received to start building and soon there was a crèche, pre-school, health centre, community hall, therapy centre and workshops for producing small scale goods. The core of the model is ’sustainable employment’, and local women and men are employed to run the site and manufacture goods such as soap, candles, and anything that can be produced with a sewing machine! These goods are then sold to hotels, private buyers and shops, with the profit paying salaries to the employees and contributing towards further developments.

The warm, welcoming atmosphere is immediately apparent on meeting the beneficiaries at the site. We were told that post tsunami the area was a mess of brown sludge, but today the wonderful Sri Lankan jungle flourishes and those working at the village take pride in their surroundings. There were plenty of jobs Joy needed help with, so we got stuck into tidying and organising the material shelf in the workshop. The next few days were spent white washing walls, and then our best effort, a lick of ‘Manacare Purple’ for the front gate. Jumping straight into the sea after a days work in the sun was particularly pleasant, and we joined many Sri Lankans cooling off. We did however refrain from undertaking the local custom of rolling around in ones pants in the sand before running full throttle into the sea.

It was wonderful to interact with the locals and we met many inspirational individuals. Cali is a middle aged Sri Lankan who lives in a house provided by Manacare; she is full time carer for her brain damaged daughter Themmi (Demi), who is soon to turn twenty. Previously, Cali worked in the Lebanon in hospitality and lived with her husband, a time which saw the birth of their daughter.

When Themmi was two years old bombs were dropped on the neighbourhood; the noxious contents left both parents unscathed, but the young brain of Themmi was permanently damaged. Initially Themmi was cared for by Cali’s family in Sri Lanka, while she worked in Spain to raise funds, but over time her husband developed arthritis and severe depression and is himself now in permanent care in Europe. Cali returned to Sri Lanka in order to care for Themmi and then the Tsunami struck, leaving the local area devastated and without adequate services for her daughter. Manacare began developing in the Telwatte and now they live in a nice house, with suitable conditions which Cali keeps impeccably!

It was an honour to sit and talk to Cali and listen to her experiences, and she told us she enjoys having guests to chat to! Many an afternoon were spent discussing all sorts of things over a cup of tea! Though Themmi is unable to converse, she listens intently to all conversations and recognises familiar voices when she hears them. She particularly enjoys music and radio programmes and listens in both Sinhalese and English. Cali is able to comprehend her daughters communication as only a mother can and is amazingly responsive to Themmi’s needs.

Most of the beneficiaries at Manacare have a harrowing story to tell, and the destruction of the Tsunami left most individuals bereft. Charitable construction has provided an enormous amount to the inhabitants of Telwatte, and we were learning all the time from our surroundings and from Joy during our stay. We certainly empathised with her and the vision she has for Manacare, (as does another, slightly higher profile supporter, Mr Cliff Richard) and this connection lead to the next phase of our travels.

Joy had planned for some time to develop a similar project in the war effected areas of the north; people in Sri Lanka had seen her project in the south and pleaded with her to replicate it. Even though we had only helped out so far with a couple of bad paint jobs, Joy asked if we’d like to be involved in this future project, starting with a ‘reconnaissance trip’ to Jaffna. We had planned to travel to the north, but this gave the journey an extra dimension, and it was with an added sense of purpose that we headed to what was previously forbidden territory.

Further Delights in Dharamsala

6.00am, the alarm sounds. Climbing slowly out of bed we get dressed and roll our yoga mats out on the hotel balcony. The air is crisp and refreshing as we start the first round of ‘Sun Salutations‘. I watch across the hillside as others mimic our actions on a mosaic of rooftops. Numerous devotees perform an early morning Kora of the Dalai Lama‘s residence to my right, while below the landlady lights the ‘Potala Incense’ and the aroma drifts up through the hotel. Like clockwork, on the fourth sun salutation the warm rays burst out from behind the spine of the Himalayas. As I moved into a shoulder stand, my legs straight up in the air, I thought to myself, ‘wow, this must be that thing they call a “healthy lifestyle”’.

 

Our days in Dharamsala were full and rewarding. Once the sun was up and we’d showered, it was down to the local Tibetan café for an enormous serving of Muesli and Yoghurt. Every day at this time the place was full with fellow travellers, volunteers, teachers, spiritual philosophers and locals. We would normally meet a regular crowd there doing similar things to us; from all over the world people had been drawn together to help the Tibetan cause. Of course the area was also well populated due to a certain ‘Dalai Lama’ arriving in town, and even those who have little interest in Buddhism were excited about seeing this spiritual superstar.

 

People had come from all around to hear His Holiness teach, and the town exuded an air of excitement in the days preceding his appearance. The whole experience was strangely like attending a football match or a music gig; we went and registered beforehand and received our ’passes’ before heading up to the temple to reserve our seats with a carefully placed sheet. He entered the ’arena’ past all his followers, taking the time to wave and greet as many people as he could. It was quite moving to be in the Dalai Lama’s presence alongside all the Tibetan monks and laypeople to whom he means so much. He symbolises everything Tibet stands for and the struggle they continue to endure. For decades his country and its culture have undergone systematic destruction at the hands of the Chinese, yet his message has remained consistent; violence will only lead to more violence, and all those involved should strive to negotiate through peaceful means. His political acumen is what the Dalai Lama has become renowned for, and it was therefore incredibly refreshing to hear him in the role of ’teacher of Buddhism’, rather than politician.

 

As the Dalai Lama taught in Tibetan, we listened intently to the English translation on FM radio. The teachings were being given at the request of a large group of Taiwanese Buddhists, and it was pleasing to hear His Holiness interact with the Chinese speaking contingent. The topics covered provided good fuel for discussion in our English classes. A monk student of Hazell’s asked if she had understood all she had heard, to which she replied, ’erm yes, I think I grasped the basics’. ’No. No. No,’ he replied, ’you may have understood intellectually, but you haven’t realised with the non conceptual mind. You must go home and meditate upon the teachings until you realise for yourself’. So that we did, but it turns out the ancient teachings of the Buddha take a little longer than one meditation session to sink in; it would seem one must start thinking in lifetimes rather than years.

 

The rest of our time was filled with numerous other activities. I took on a second student named Dolma, a shy Tibetan refugee with only very basic English, but unfortunately her sister became ill during our stay, so we only met on a few occasions. I was looking forward to helping her tell her story in English, as it was this part of the interaction which proved to be most rewarding. Gradually, as a students vocabulary improves, the richness of their tale reveals itself in full colour and further communicates the plight of the Tibetans to the rest of the world. We also attended a number of events with ’guest speakers’ who had their own story to tell. One such man told his story to a room full of people at the LIT centre, and the tale culminated in him displaying the wounds inflicted by Chinese soldiers during the 2008 uprising in Tibet. The Chinese military had begun shooting indiscriminately into the protesting crowd and had badly wounded a monk, who eventually died. The speaker had attempted to move the injured man out of the crowd and was shot in the arm. He fled as the Chinese gave chase and was wanted as an instigator of the protests from then onwards. He knew he couldn’t return to the city so he escaped to the hills where he received no treatment for his wound, and his arm eventually became infected with maggots. His friends cut out the rotten flesh and luckily his arm began to heal, and it was at this point that he decided to make the dangerous journey through the Himalayas to Dharamsala. The Tibetans love a tall tale, but this man desperately wanted to relate his story in the hope such efforts would increase awareness of the continuing Chinese brutality.

 

I also attended a number of interesting screenings and discussions given by the ’Active Non-violence Education Centre’ (ANEC). ANEC provide the local community with training in using non-violent means to bring about positive change, with the teachings of Buddhism, the Dalai Lama and Ghandi acting as guiding principles. The workshops they run in the Tibetan transitional school are of particular importance; recently arrived refugees are educated in non-violent techniques with which to protest against the Chinese occupation. Many of the students choose to make the dangerous trip back to Tibet after education, and therefore the work ANEC do is of huge benefit inside the country as the inhabitants continue to contend with Chinese oppression and brutality.

 

At one discussion a representative from the Tibetan Youth Congress was present; this organisation are known for a more aggressive approach to protest, and his belief was that the media only take notice if protest is forceful. This opinion is prevalent, particularly among young Tibetans, as they feel the passive approach is not working and force must now be utilised. I explained that I had worked in the British media and believe the Tibet issue is woefully underrepresented; this is a concern as the support of the major world powers is crucial to Tibet. I commented that in Western media there are images on our screens every day of conflict and violent protest and viewers are anaesthetised through overexposure; another news article with burnt out cars and smashed shop windows is unlikely to shock or change opinion. I asked the Youth Congress member what the most powerful and enduring image of the 1989 Tiananmen Square protest was; he replied straight away that it was the unarmed man stood in front of a Chinese tank, protesting peacefully. I therefore suggested that the most powerful thing the Tibetan population, monks and laypeople, could have done in the protests of 2008 was to congregate on mass in front of the Jokhang temple, sit down, and begin reciting prayers as the armed Chinese military looked on. In my mind this would have been an immensely powerful image of peaceful protest and any unprovoked violence from the Chinese would have been immediately apparent and condemned globally.

 

During these discussions I became a little frustrated and disheartened by the idealistic and unrealistic opinions of how the Tibet situation could be resolved; ’Ghandi did this’, ’Martin Luther King said this’, ’When Soviet Communism collapsed this happened.’ Nobody could really offer a workable, ongoing solution to their specific difficulties. In other discussions we had been involved in, the advent of Chinese democracy was proposed as one of the most likely catalysts to a free Tibet. The young in China are miseducated about Tibet and it is taught that it has always been a province of China and that the Chinese have done immense good there by ‘liberating’ the area from regressive feudalism and a tyrannical, separatist in the Dalai Lama. Therefore, an accurate education through freedom of information would enable an intelligent population to vote democratically for a mutually beneficial resolution to the Tibetan situation. Another suggestion is to utilise the classic non-violent tactic of non-cooperation; boycott all Chinese products and services and use only Tibetan produce. I commented that having been to Lhasa recently, the Tibetan population are so dependent on Chinese products and services these days, that to boycott everything would likely leave the Tibetans in a state of impoverishment. Furthermore, the more successful the Chinese economy becomes in the world arena, the more likely it is to bend towards democratic principles. As stated, this could be beneficial to Tibet, so by attempting to harm the Chinese economy, they may inadvertently damage their own chances for autonomy.

 

This jostling of political ideas could have continued all evening, and ultimately we all became aware of just how difficult the Tibetan situation is. There is certainly still hope that Tibet will be free in the future or at least achieve a level of real autonomy, but unfortunately this appears to depend upon the attitude of the stubborn Chinese government. I was also very disappointed to discover that the UK have recently decided to shift their position and define Tibet as a part of China. This is a cowardly response rooted in the fear of upsetting the modern superpower of China. If you take only one thing away from the words I have written here, let it be this: Tibet is a country illegally occupied by Chinese forces. It is not a province of China.

 

Nobel Peace for Tibet?

During our stay in Dharamsala, we had the good fortune of being in the same guest house as an American named Erik Zelko. Erik is currently working as the Editor for ‘Contact’ magazine, a local English language publication which focuses on all things Tibetan. He was looking for volunteer contributors and I said I would help him out. At the time Liu Xiaobo, an imprisoned Chinese democratic activist, was controversially awarded this years Nobel Peace Prize. I felt this development could have an impact upon the Tibet situation and therefore I submitted this article which was published in the November issue of Contact. The awards ceremony will take place on Friday and so far China and eighteen other countries have declared they will not be attending. 

Nobel Peace for Tibet? by Carl Chapman

“We support the Dalai Lama’s appeal for peace, and hope that the ethnic conflict can be dealt with according to the principles of goodwill, peace and non-violence. We condemn any violent act against innocent people, strongly urge the Chinese government to stop the violent suppression, and appeal to the Tibetan people likewise not to engage in violent activities.”

Taken from ‘Twelve Suggestions for Dealing with the Tibet Situation’, a petition which Liu Xiaobo co-wrote in the aftermath of the Tibet protests of 2008.

On December 25th 2009, human rights activist Liu Xiaobo was jailed by the Chinese authorities. He was sentenced to 11 years in prison and an additional two years deprivation of political rights for “inciting subversion of state power.” Liu is one of the leading advocates of peaceful democratic reform in The People’s Republic of China and was involved in the Tiananmen Square protests of 1989; he is also a committed campaigner for Tibetan freedom.

On 7 October 2010, during his 4th prison term, Norwegian TV networks reported that Liu Xiaobo was a candidate for the 2010 Nobel Peace Prize, and on 8 October 2010 the Nobel Committee awarded him the prize “for his long and non-violent struggle for fundamental human rights in China”. The Chinese Foreign Ministry responded with anger and issued a statement proclaiming, “Liu Xiaobo is a criminal who has been sentenced by Chinese judicial departments for violating Chinese law. Awarding the prize to Liu runs completely counter to the principle of the award and is also a desecration of the Peace Prize.”

In receiving the award, Liu joins an esteemed list of previous winners such as Barack Obama, Nelson Mandela and of course, His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, who himself is a firm believer in democracy. If campaigners such as Liu succeed in their aims, China will move into a period of increased freedom in both personal expression and information. This could have a profound affect on the electorate who, empowered with new knowledge, may be ready to cast a vote for Tibetan freedom. It is difficult to predict whether this would mean ‘full independence’, or a ‘middle way’ approach, as proposed by His Holiness The Dalai Lama.

Lhakpa Tsering is Director of McCleod Ganj based ‘Volunteer Tibet’, and he feels that Liu’s award is unlikely to have an immediate effect on the Tibet issue.

“In my opinion even a democratically governed China will never vote for an ‘Independent Tibet’. However, if a large scale democratic movement does take place in China, then during the transitional period the country will be very unstable. It is at this stage that Tibet can claim its independence, in much the same way that the Post-Soviet states did after the Soviet Union collapsed.”

Liu Xiaobo has requested that his wife Liu Xia collect the award on his behalf. However, she currently remains under house arrest and fears that the Chinese government will prevent her from attending the award ceremony in December. In a recent interview with the UK’s Guardian newspaper, she voiced her concerns stating, “I can’t even get out of my home, how could I go out of the country?” Chinese authorities have continued to protest against Liu’s award by blocking the Nobel Peace Prize website along with other independent news sources.

The aftershock of Liu Xiaobo’s achievement may take some time to be felt within Tibet, but the future of the country is inextricably linked to the political climate within China. The power of democracy lies with an informed electorate, free to make decisions and to vote on the basis of their knowledge. If these freedoms are made available to the Chinese public, then as the Dalai Lama states, “truth and justice will ultimately triumph.”

The Nobel Prize award ceremony will take place in Oslo, Norway on December 10.

Me and the Man From Bhutan

I was slightly nervous before meeting Ngawang for our first English tutoring session together, (and yes his name is hard to say. It’s pronounced ‘Ng’, as at the end of ‘thing’, a -wang). The previous day we had visited the ‘Volunteer Tibet’ office in Dharamsala to offer our services, and we were both excited about helping people from a culture we had come to love. There is always a long list of people looking for English tutors in the community, so Lhakpa the Managing Director of Volunteer Tibet soon found us some ’students’. The first young man who came into the office could speak next to no English; he did all the communication that was necessary by choosing the pretty young female as a teacher rather than myself, (yes I do mean Hazell). My victim was a humble, maroon robed monk, who introduced himself and asked if we could meet the following morning at the nunnery he was staying at. Inwardly I was chuffed that I had been given the opportunity to work with a practicing monk, and I was looking forward to a rewarding exchange. He was on ‘holiday’ from his Tibetan monastery in South India and was in Dharamsala to learn English and hear the Dalai Lama teach.

The following morning I made my way to the Nunnery and tentatively knocked on his door. In my mind I had planned to use the hour as a ‘getting to know each other session’ and to understand his motives for learning English so we could have a focus. His English level was good enough that we could have a reasonable conversation, and he told me eventually he would like to travel to Europe and teach Dharma in English. He was very self motivated and had his own English grammar text book and ‘Tibetan to English’ dictionary. It was at this stage that I realised my A-Level linguistics studies had hidden themselves under a rock in my mind. ‘So I’m up to the ‘Present Continuous’ chapter in my text book’. ‘Er, OK. Sterling work Ngawang; full steam ahead. We’ll look at that next time OK.’ He also showed me a short piece of written work he had done, which he wanted me to correct. His handwriting was better than mine, but bar this knock to the ego, I enjoyed helping him with his work. It was particularly nice to have a student who was so eager to learn, and for the first time in a while I felt as though I had an asset that I could utilise in helping others. The respect Tibetan monks are taught to hold for any ’teacher’ also became apparent, as Ngawang addressed me as such and even gave me an apple at the end!

Our meetings continued throughout our three week stay in Dharamsala. As we got to know each other better, we spent a lot of time discussing each others cultures and backgrounds. Ngawang’s parents are Tibetan and from the Tsang province, but fled to Bhutan under the Chinese occupation. He is the second oldest of ten children and he suspects his parents had cultural preservation in the face of the Chinese as a motive for the number of offspring! All the major Tibetan monasteries have active counterparts in the exile community in South India, and Ngawang is undertaking the final three years of study in a Gelug monastery for his ‘Geshe’ degree, (the culmination of roughly 25 years study). He has been unable to visit his ‘homeland’ Tibet for his entire life, and the discovery that we had seen more of Tibet than many Tibetans became a distressing theme while in the community.

A reliable method in challenging ones own customs and beliefs is to compare them to those of an alien culture; the comedic value of explaining what are often just habits to a bemused listener really helps to broaden the mind. Ngawang told me he had recently asked a ’western’ English teacher how old she was and had been met with a rather cold response. Understandably, he was a little perplexed at why such a basic question had caused such offence, and in all honesty I had no rational explanation. ’Erm, because….we‘re British. Ngawang, talking man to man here, there are many things about the British female we will never understand, so we just stopped asking. But next time why don’t you ask her how much she weighs, that’ll cheer her up. You know that Buddhist teaching on the habit of protecting the ’illusory ego’? Well here is your chance to see it in full effect.’

In the more structured elements of the tutoring, (there were some), I showed him my CV and we discussed how he might structure his. Admittedly the details were slightly different; my ‘fifteen years in education culminating in work as a television tea boy’, would have to be replaced by Ngawang’s ’25 years of scriptural and experiential study into the ultimate nature of reality and wisdom.’ We also discussed how he might approach Buddhist institutions for work, and in particular how he could structure a formal letter. This again required a rummage through the memory banks, ’now is it ‘Yours Sincerely‘ or ‘Yours Faithfully?’ Trying to uphold the traditions of the English language in the age of e-mail and Facebook is rather difficult it would appear.

In later lessons we started to discuss Buddhist teachings a little further, as Ngawang’s overall goal is to teach Dharma in English. He recommended a succinct piece called ‘The Thirty-Seven Practices of All Buddha’s Sons’ by Thogme Zangpo. It was very interesting to discuss the intricacies of the language used and especially the meaning that was sometimes lost in translation. It became apparent that to fully appreciate any scripture, it is of most benefit to learn the native language. Ngawang also really enjoyed sharing what he could with me in English, though I think it was a little frustrating for him when he realised he didn’t have the vocabulary to explain the finer points! This would usually end up in him bursting into fits of contagious laughter while rubbing his shaven head. I always enjoy being around people who are able to laugh at themselves and their mistakes; it’s certainly a habit I could benefit from developing!

At the end of our last meeting I was rather sad to be saying goodbye. After a photoshoot, Ngawang had kind words to say and thanked me for ’spending my precious time with him.’ I told him that the values of his culture and religion are an inspiration to me, and therefore not to think of our time together as having been a burden. The Buddhist teachings Ngawang has spent twenty-five years studying place selfless, compassionate action at centre stage; he could therefore understand my motive for volunteering and that my ‘payment‘ was far greater than any financial reward.

Positive Karma in Dharamsala

After travelling Tibet and witnessing the oppression of the Tibetan people at the hands of the Chinese Government, we felt a cold shadow of guilt softly surround us on our journey. The money we had spent in Tibet had gone back to the very government that was tormenting the culture and the people that we had come to love and respect. We decided to re-address our karma by volunteering in Dharamsala, home of the Dalai Lama, the Tibetan Government in exile and thousands of Tibetan refugees, many of whom had braved months of walking through the freezing Himalayas to get there. Many refugees arrive with severe frostbite, many without toes, feet or hands, while others arrive without the loved ones they’d begun their journey with. One of the goals of these refugees who’d fled their homeland was to get educated. They refused the Chinese education that has now fully established itself within the schools of Tibet, in favour of skills such as languages and IT; skills which will help them spread their Buddhist message, and establish a voice within the world.

Carl and I arrived in Dharamsala on Saturday and on Monday we had joined ‘Volunteer Tibet’ as tutors, teachers and office helpers. The volunteer community here must be one of the most advanced in India. We joined many travellers, some with similar experiences to our own, who were all here to help the Tibetan people. We met some very inspiring volunteers as well as students. Gerry, an IT expert from Holland, had come over with computers and set up daily computer skills classes for beginners and advance level students. He was in Dharamsala for 4 weeks and in that time he trained Tibetan students to take over as teachers and run the classes themselves. He left behind a new, fully functioning institution offering free computer classes to refugees and locals to gain new skills. This man wasn’t a traveller or rich philanthropist, he was a normal working man in his fifties and had collected the computers by asking friends for old equipment. Then he’d persuaded his workplace to give him four weeks off, and when they found out about his plans they also donated some equipment.

Well, Carl and I didn’t bring computers but we did bring our native English, which in Dharamsala is considered gold dust, (even if my native English is a Welsh-English). I jumped straight in and began teaching a class and helping out in conversation classes both at Volunteer Tibet and another organisation called LIT (Learning and Ideas for Tibet). In ‘conversation classes’ teachers are sat with a group of 4 to 7 students and given a topic along with some questions to discuss. Through introducing new themes the students, (whose age ranged from 11 to 70) learnt new words and ideas. The topic would usually relate somehow to their situation or their religion; topics that the Tibetans wanted to discuss and investigate with the outside world. I really enjoyed going to these classes and meeting new people everyday. More than once I found myself sitting outside the classroom or walking around Dharamsala chatting with students who were keen to continue their practise outside the classroom. The students who attended the conversation classes were a little more advanced than my individual tutee, Lobsang.

Tutoring was a very daunting but very necessary task. Volunteer Tibet had a waiting list full of students who were either too shy or knew too little English to attend any of the formal classes. My student, Lobsang came from a Tibetan family who lived in Shangrila. He spoke both Tibetan and Chinese fluently but only knew very basic English. I didn’t really know where to start – how do you teach someone when you don’t speak a common language? I bought a Tibetan phrase book to help me but I was usually able to explain things to him by pointing and with drawings (which made him laugh a lot!). We started with pro-nouns and basic phrases and through these we exchanged information about ourselves and got to know each other. I wanted to find out about him so that I could teach him the kind of English that would be useful for him. We talked about goals and the future. He told me that his goal was to become a famous actor and teach the world about Buddhism and give all his money to poor people. And this was why he wanted to learn English. So I thought we’d start with question words…

Lobsang had fled with other refugees to Dharamsala when he was a young boy and had then moved on to Karnataka in South India to become a monk. His Uncle is a High Lama who had also fled Tibet to study in South India. Lobsang studied Buddhist philosophy under his Uncle and other Lamas. Lamas are currently unable to teach in Tibet under the Chinese occupation, so universities and centres of Buddhist teaching have been established elsewhere by the refugee community to enable Tibetans to study their religion. Lobsang showed me photos of his past life as a monk. I didn’t really find out why he’d left monkhood, but he did express an interest in having a family so that could have been significant in his decision. He wasn’t as politically involved in the Free Tibet campaign as many other young Tibetans I met. He had grown up in Shangrila which is half Chinese and half Tibetan and he told me that in Shangrila they lived together in peace. Although I cannot be sure of his political stance he seemed to favour peace and togetherness over freedom.

Other Tibetans I spoke to were not so laid back about the situation. Those who spoke decent English wanted to talk to me about three things. The first was politics and their experiences of oppression under the Chinese occupation. The stories they related with such enthusiasm were often about losing loved ones or being violently beaten. But more distressing for them was the seeming loss of their culture and heritage. The second topic of conversation was Buddhism. In no way were these conversations given as single pointed lectures. The students were especially keen to know what Westerners thought of the Buddhist concepts and how these can apply to the Western world. The third topic was me. They were all so keen to know about my life, about Wales (an obscure small country that no-one had ever heard of), about my family, friends and work. In a conversation with one monk I started to talk about my job at Azza working with Sudanese refugees. He was in complete shock and called others over to listen. The question on all their lips was ‘how did the refugees walk from Sudan to London?’ It was this question that really made me realise how ignored the Tibetans have been by the international community. While other refugees had rights, and flights, over a sixth of the Tibetan population have been killed by the Chinese communist regime and more now continue to die as they risk their lives fleeing over the Himalayas into Nepal and India. But back to blogging about teaching…

After 3 weeks with Lobsang we’d covered much ground and I could really see a difference. He was even using the correct verb tenses (I’d introduced 3 new verbs a day), writing simple sentences and using conjunctions to link his sentences. I was very proud. I’d put a lot of effort into making various materials for his learning and to show how grateful he was he spent hours everyday after our tutorials memorising new words and learning the grammar for the next lesson. He also took me for lunch a few times and gave me the white scarf that he had personally received from the Dalai Lama when he first arrived in India as a refugee. He wanted me to have it to keep me safe on my travels and I was very humbled to receive it. Although I never got given an apple like Teacher Carl did.