"Kumbum On A Journey" - A Poem About Kumbum Monastery

High Peaks Pure Earth has translated a poem titled "Kumbum On A Journey" by a Tibetan blogger whose online name is "Madman". The poem was written on July 22, 2011 and posted on his TibetCul blog on August 17, 2011.

Kumbum Monastery featured here on High Peaks Pure Earth in July 2011, we translated an open letter written by the monks and local residents to the authorities appealing for action to be taken over the lack of clean drinking water in the area, brought on by intensive mining activities.

The poem conveys the rather sad thoughts and feelings of the blogger as he visits Kumbum Monastery, mourning what he sees as the loss of the greatness of past, both historic, Tsongkhapa, as well as more recent, Tenth Panchen Lama. Interestingly, this sense of Kumbum's decline was featured in a Wikileaks Cable from the US Embassy in Beijing in September 2009, read more by following this link: http://wikileaks.org/cable/2009/09/09BEIJING2719.html

"Is it A Hotel or Is it A Temple?" by Woeser

The following blog post was originally written for Radio Free Asia by Woeser and published on her blog on August 22nd 2007. For High Peaks Pure Earth readers who are curious about Laurence J. Brahm, read about his books on China Tibet Information Center's website and more about him on China Today's website.


Following the opening of the Qinghai-Tibet railway, the House of Shambhala hotel has opened as befitting the times. It is situated in Lhasa’s old Barkhor district in the middle of a residential area, the area is mostly made up of new houses replacing old ones.

House of Shambhala is a kind of not big but very exquisite boutique hotel and inside, the construction imitates Tibetan courtyard-style architecture.

The hotel also emphasises “Tibetan culture” and it is apparent that the "Yarlu Tsangpo Hotel", which is like an upstart, can not be comparable to the House of Shambhala. The latter looks much more authentic, especially in the sense that much attention was put into details, as is the case of the splendid designs of Tibetan-style window frames, the carved stone images or carved scriptures which are placed on the walls, or pleasantly asymmetrical Tsatsas (miniature statues) etc. All this makes the House of Shambhala the most authentic Tibetan hotel.

However, the problem lies in the fact that its appearance highly resembles a temple. Hotels are not temples, just like hotels are neither Christian churches nor mosques. Everything in the world originally has its proper place, if there is a tendency insistently to make hotels look like temples then is this not a kind of ignorance and arbitrariness? At the House of Shambhala, I saw an old Tibetan Buddhist pilgrim mistake the place for a temple, entering whilst respectfully bowing her head, turning the tall prayer wheels at the door of the hotel with her hands, her mouth mumbling away but she quickly stopped to look around the courtyard in bewilderment, her face expressing confusion, not knowing what to do, as she turned around and ran away.

I still to this day remember the expression on her face, which is bewilderment as a result of one’s pious aspirations have not been settled but does not know where to place them.

House of Shambhala was opened by an American called Laurence J. Brahm (Chinese name: 龙安志, Long Anzhi), who is well-known in Lhasa now. He is not only a very successful western businessman in China, but also a writer who has written a dozen books about China. And what the Chinese government likes most about him is that he often writes for English publication articles in which the fundamentals are very similar to those of the People’s Daily. Recently, he nurtured a keen interest for Tibet, and wrote several books whose main topic is Tibetan culture. His documentaries have been used by the Chinese government as a propaganda tool, he shakes hands with government officials and was the first foreign disciple of the CCP’s Panchen Lama. It’s even said that his son recently became a tulku (reincarnated Lama) at a Tibetan monastery overseas.

Visiting his hotel, you would note that he uses the concept of Shambhala to build a new Tibet which has nothing to do with Tibet as it is known now. ‘Shambhala’ is originally an ideal world of Tibetan buddhism but he turns the concept into a hotel; therefore he intentionally has the hotel look like a temple in order to provide strangers with the feeling that they are staying in a ‘harmonious Tibet’, without suffering or risk. It does not matter much if this ‘harmonious Tibet’ only is an imitation or legend, however, books written by him are displayed in every room. In his books, he skilfully carries out misinterpretations about Tibet today which lead to spreading misconceptions. The aim is to ingratiate himself to the ruler of this piece of land. Tibet in fact has been turned into a symbol of consumerism; it is more a tool for him to earn more money. He is a true cultural imperialist. Tibet represents not only a money-making tool but also a garden and a stage on which to fulfil his imperialist interest.

I once saw Laurence J. Brahm at Lhasa’s Gendun Choephel Gallery at a lecture about art. There were painters, art lovers and foreigners studying Tibetan culture present. The little room was completely full. Amid the lecture, a foreigner wearing elegant clothes, sunglasses, and latching a big dog as white as his hair suddenly appeared and quickly disappeared after saying goodbye in a very fluent Beijing-accented Chinese. The entire process was carried out in a very theatrical, exaggerated and artificial way.

A hotel resembling a temple - House of Shambhala

Laurence J. Brahm
(in the centre, the silver-haired man wearing sunglasses)

Two poems about the Panchen Lama by Woeser

These two poems about the Panchen Lama by Woeser were written ten years apart. The original poems (written in Chinese) can be read here on her previous blog. The translations of the two poems are taken from "Tibet's True Heart", copyright 2008 Ragged Banner Press and are used here by kind permission. Below is a short introduction by Woeser.


Introduction:

One poem was written one day in December 1995. It was a day when I was working at my first position at the Tibet Autonomous Region Cultural Association when I received news about the new Panchen Lama being recognized, whereupon I immediately wrote this poem.

One poem was written one day in October 2005 when I’d finished reading "The Search for the Panchen Lama" by a female British journalist.


The Panchen Lama

If time can cover up a lie,
Is ten years enough?
A child matures into a clever youth,
But like a parrot, mumbles by rote
The phrases that will please his masters.

The other child, where is he?
The scar-like birthmark on his wrist recalls
His previous life, before, when for ten years
He sat trussed with tight handcuffs
In some Beijing cell no ray of light could reach.
What bruises mar him now,
The child no one hears from?

If there are nine levels to the darkness,
At which one are they trapped - he, and the other?
If there are nine levels to the light,
To which do they aspire - he, and the other?
Perhaps, in each phase of darkness and of light,
Where one is trapped, the other aspires.

Kunchoksum! The world's turned upside down,
That the pain of impermanence,
Of samsara, has struck home to the Panchen Lama!

12 October 2005, Beijing


December

1．
"Hear ye!" The big lie shall blot the sky,
Two sparrows in the wood shall fall.
"Tibet," he says, "Tibet is fine and flourishing!"

The furious girl will not bite her tongue.
Everywhere the monastic robe has lost its color.
They say: It's to save our skin.

But that one, oh,
The steaming blood poured out, the hot blood!
In the next life, who will grieve for him?

2．
Storm clouds! Doom!
In my mind's eye I see.

I know if I don't speak now
I'll be silent forever.

Sullen millions,
Lift up your hearts.

He was sacrificed once,
That man of deep red hue.

But as the tree of life is evergreen,
A soul is always a soul.

3．
A worse defeat!
Thouands of trees, blighted as never before.
The little folk are quiet as a cricket in the cold.

The pair of praying hands
Was chopped off
To cram the bellies of kites and curs.

Oh, that rosary unseen,
Who is worthy with a firm hand
To pick it up from the slime of this world?

December 1995, Lhasa