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My Sufferings and New Life

Aeneas

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应广大读者的要求,特将《我的苦难与新生》一文翻译成英文,请各位朋友多提宝贵意见。



My Sufferings and New Life

——Narrated by Maga, formerly a Tibetan slave and at present

a retired worker at Nakin Power Plant, Tibet Autonomous Region



 

For half a century since he fled abroad in the military rebellion of March 19, 1959, Lama Dalai and his clique have been trying all means to undermine the Tibetan security, unity and happiness so as to split Tibet from China and restore feudalistic slavery system. He has told various lies to beautify the cruelest and most savage feudalistic slavery system and poison people’s mind into assuming that the Old Tibet before his escape was really as happy as heaven. Is that true? If you read the article “My sufferings and New Life” narrated by Maga, a retired worker at Nakkin Power Plant, you may know what lama Dalai’s so-called “heaven” turns to be.



1.



My home was located on the Ruli prairie of Nagqu Region with high snow mountains, warm spas, clear rivers, green grasslands, and crowds of cattle and sheep. What a fertile and beautiful land!. But before the democratic reform of 1960, the temples, local government, and feudal nobles owned all the land while the slaves lived a poverty-stricken miserable life.

Take our family for an example, my grandfather had been a feudal lord’s errand runner who owned some cattle and sheep and enjoyed the limited personal freedom. Thanks to the hard work of my grandfather, my parents Yariah and Jiangcuo, our family could fairly keep our body and soul together. But later on, all my family’s cattle and sheep were looted by Cirenlangpei, our feudal lord, which enraged my grandfather too hard and he soon died. But Cirenlangpei still didn’t give up. One day, he came to our home with his several men and bellowed to my father, “Your father has owed me a sum of debt. You must pay it off today!” We knew that it was he who had looted away Grandpa’s cattle and sheep and took away Grandpa’s life. Now he came here to pick holes with us. We didn’t know what new tricks he would play on us. Dad held back his anger and said, “I don’t know whether my father had owed you any debt or not, but I’m sure that you have driven away our cattle and sheep. What else can I give you?” Cirenlangpei said angrily, “If you won’t give me anything, let’s go to the government office. I’m only loaned you credits for the government.” Apparently, he intimidated me with the local government. With his words, his several men bound Dad to the horseback. Mum fought herself to scramble him back but she was kicked and fell to the ground.

Dad was taken away. We kids cried and shouted. The miserable voices echoed on the earth. Mum picked herself up and felt extremely anxious about Dad and us. Suddenly Mum held our youngest brother in her arm and dashed to the slave owner’s house. We rather older children followed her with unsteady steps. When we got to the slave owner’s place, we saw Dad bound to a stone slab near the cowshed with a big stone on his back. We were so sorrowful as if many knives were stabbing our hearts. But Cirenlangpei laughed viciously: “Aha, since all of you have come, I needn’t send for you. See how I treat the man who won’t pay back my credit.” Then he wielded a cane as big as an arm and beat Dad on the hips. Immediately the blood and flesh flew in all directions. Mum was so upset as to lose consciousness and we kids cried so hard to lose our voice. When Cirenlangpei stopped beating, we found the flesh at Dad’s hips was completely mushy and two white big bones have come out. All over the ground and walls were Dad’s blood and minced flesh. We can hardly bear such a wretched sight. But Cirenlangpei didn’t stop his punishment to Dad. He put Dad into the damp dungeon with no ventilation and sunlight. Dad’s wounds festered and maggots grew. Only several days later, Dad died miserably in it.

In the feudalistic slavery society, if a slave was killed by a feudalistic slave owner, even a complaint would invite vengeance let alone to sue him. Only because of her complaint in private “Now their father has died. How can these kids live on?” Mum was scolded by Cirenlangpei that she “violated the will of heaven” and disobeyed the “Buddha’s” punishment. She was caught and done a good beating. Her stomach was seriously wounded. Soon the wounds got inflamed and festered. The flesh outside the wounds decayed so the ribs and small intestines appeared. Flies were humming around her. Thus like Dad, Mum also died in the hands of the serf owner.

Dad and Mum’s death left us nine orphans aged from one year to thirteen years. If that happened today, the orphans could be adopted and brought up by the government and go to school at school age. But in those days, the orphans had no choice but to die of hunger. Could we older brothers and sisters not care about our skinny younger brothers and sisters? Of course not. When they cried pitifully with their anxious eyes and mouths, “Sister, I am hungry. I want to eat!” My heart was deadly hurt and my tears were endlessly streaming. I am the fourth eldest of us brothers and sisters. My two elder sisters, one elder brother and I went out to the grassland to look for the dead cattle and sheep. We dragged them home and cooked for my younger brothers and sisters. Once on the hill we found a calf which had just died. We dragged it back home, skinned it, cut off the flesh on the legs, and cooked the beef in the pot with the cow dung. The flame is dancing under the pot and the beef is bubbling in the pot. Smelling the sweetness of the beef giving off from the pot and picturing that a delicious meal of beef was soon ready, my younger brothers and sisters sang and danced happily. Suddenly, Cirenlangpei appeared from nowhere. Seeing us cooking the dead cattle’s beef, he said coldly, “All these dead cattle and sheep are the sacrifices for the God of Birds and all the cow dung is dried on the grassland. Who told you to cook it and burn it?” With these words, he kicked and overturned the pot. The soup splashed onto the younger brothers and sisters around the fire. They were seriously burned and cried with sharp pain. Seeing Cirenlangpei so fierce to us, I hated him so much as to stab him to death.

After Cirenlangpei left, we picked up the beef on the ground but we dared not cook again. We cut the raw beef into small pieces and feed them. How could their little stomachs digest the raw beef? But if we did not do so, where can we find zanba (the roasted qingke barley flour)? So the two little sister’s stomach swelled and died soon. After their death, I discussed with my elder sisters. We wouldn’t any more feed our younger brothers with raw meat. We decided to dig on the hills for the wild vegetables for them. But they are too young to live on with the mere bitter and astringent wild vegetables. Soon afterwards, two little brothers also died.

Thus in more than one year, owing to the herd owner’s mistreatment, our family members were reduced from 11 to 6. If only we’d found a place where the poor would not starve and suffer from any mistreatments.



2.



Owing to the death of the four youngest brothers and sisters, there were only five older children in our family. We were all more than seven or eight years old. We could work a little. Cirenlangpei decided to make a prey of us again. He distributed us five brothers and sisters among his sons as their slaves and ordered us not to talk and see each other. From then on, we five brothers and sisters were drowned into the sea of hardship.

I was taken into the home of Duomujie. He was even fiercer than his father. He would kill anybody any time with his knife. I went to his home at eight and broke free at over twenty. During that period of time, I was beaten for countless times and seriously chopped for five times with seven wounds. Every day when I opened my eyes, the first thought was the concerns over whether I would be beaten

When I first entered Dumomujie’s home, he asked me straight, “Do you still remember how your mum and Dad died?” At the thought of the death of Dad and Mum, I was filled with rage. But since I was too young to understand what he meant, I answered honestly, “ Yeah.” Then he groaned, “ That would be OK. If you disobey me, you may end up in the same way as you Mum and Dad, Got it?” I stared at his fierce and ugly face and said nothing.

He shouted inside the house. came in a gentle fully-grown girl. “Take her to the doghouse.” he rasped out. The girl waved to me and I followed her out of the courtyard. “Why do you come here?” He whispered and went on without waiting for my answer, “From now on, you may suffer endlessly.” With these words, her tears were rolling down the face. I was about to console her when I heard a cough behind us. She wiped off her tears hurriedly. I looked back quietly. Duomujie was glaring at us fiercely at the gate.

We came into the doghouse. It was a pen built with pebbles too dirty for a dog to live in, let alone a human being. I stared agape at the doghouse. The girl had read my mind clearly and said to me in tears, “You might clean the inside at first. Later I tried to fetch you a broken woolen blanket.” When I looked around the doghouse, I found the ground was nailed with many timber piles used to tie the cattle and sheep. I understood completely. What I had to do later on was to herd cattle and sheep in the day and look after them in the night. My life before me would be filled with endless sufferings and sorrows.

The kindhearted girl looked at me for a while and then said to me gently, “My name is Baiji, If anything happens, you can tell me. I must be going otherwise I might be beaten.” Baiji went away so I was left alone. From then on, I lived in this doghouse and herded the cattle and sheep for him. I had never steped any farther away from his home.

At the age of ten, the ewes had given birth to too many lambs so I was too busy to look after all the sheep. One day, when I came back home, I noticed\ one lamb was missing. The next day, Duomujie found the fur of the lamb on the hill. At dusk when I drove all the sheep back home, he called me to go to his place. Without forethought, he snatched my queue, drew out his waist knife, stabbed into my left thigh, scooped out a piece of flesh, carried it at the blade of his knife, and said with his teeth clenched, “ You fed the wolf with my lamb so now I feed you with your own flesh. Eat it and taste it yourself!” Then he crammed it into my mouth. I shouted with the sharp pain and soon fainted. But he wouldn’t give up until he crammed the flesh into my mouth. It was quite rare for a ten-year-old kid to suffer from such a barbarous mistrreatment and persecution but it was so commonplace in the Tibetan feudalistic slavery society. I lay on the ground bleeding but Duomujie left as if nothing had happened. On hearing this, Baiji hurried to take me into the doghouse and put some cow dung on my wound to stopped bleeding. I leaned against her tightly and she held me pitifully. We said nothing. In that miserable old society, what was worth saying? To whom could you say? and what is the point of saying? We stayed together for a while. Then she left in tears.

Soon the wound suppurated and gave off a stinky odor. When the cattle and sheep came back, they crowded around my shelter unwilling to leave. But Duomujie didn’t feel guilty of it at all. On the contrary, he decided to desert me on the hills to feed wolves and wouldn’t give up this idea until Baiji and other slaves begged him not to do so. With the good care from Baiji, my wound healed gradually. I could work again. “You have recovered enough. Now you should herd cattle for me. You should not eat zanba without doing any work.” said Duomujie. Who had eaten his zanba? It is a sheer nonsense. Without Baiji’s great efforts to take good care of me, I would have starved to death a long time before. But the detestable serf owner usually did lots of bad deeds and paper over them with fine words. Though you knew he was lying, yet you couldn’t say so. You had no choice but to curse him in your heart. Duomujie asked me to herd more than ten calves and another male slave called Dunchu to herd cows. Then I had to herd calves lamely every day. In order to prevent calves from eating the milk of cows, we had to herd cattle in two separate pasturelands and for every minute I should stop calves from running to cows. For this reason, I got deadly tired every day.

One day, we were grazing cattle in two different pastures when it hailed. The cows and calves started to run and bellowed and in a mess they mixed together. We tried to separate them from each other, but we failed, so the calves ate the cows’ milk. As a matter of fact, that didn’t matter for both calves and cows were Duomujie’s. But he flew at rage and scolded that we were of no use. He picked up a block of stone, chased Dunzhu, hit him in the eye so that his left eye was blind. Dunzhu couldn’t get up from the ground. Duomujie run toward me and snatched me. He drew his waist knife and cut a long opening in the lower part of my left knee. Blood was coming out like running water. The serf owner scolded and beat us mercilessly just because he could get a little less milk from cows. But seeing us bleeding, he didn’t care. As a girl of twelve years old, I cried with my hands protecting my wound but nobody would reply. I cried all the time until I swooned. Baiji knew it and came up to me stealthily. He took me to my doghouse. In those days, Every time we met, we might cry. I didn’t know when my sufferings would end.

Due to my wound, I couldn’t herd sheep so Duomujie told me to look after the milk dregs sunbathed on the ground all day long to stop the crows and livestock from stealing them. But that was a very difficult task for me because the milk dregs were spread in a wide stretch and with no fences enclosed. Besides, I could not move about very quickly at that time. Once, an wild ram ignored my shouts and intruded in to eat several milk dregs. With the help of Macuomu, my little friend, the ram was driven away. But that was noticed by Duomujie’s wife. She rushed towards me with a sharp knife. Knowing that I was about to suffer some misfortunes, I was so scared as to ask Macuomu for help. But Macuomu, a girl of the same age as me, was afraid of her like a tiger and ran away hurriedly saying nothing of saving me. Duomujie’s wife, as fierce as a man-eater, soon caught me. She knew that my both legs had been wounded with cuts. If she chopped my leg again, I could not do anything for them. If she let go of me without any punishment, it couldn’t satisfy their desires to mistreat their slaves like livestock. She glared at me and chopped me a hole on the left wrist. Then she left angrily

My parents had died and my elder brothers and sisters were not here. Whom could I pour out all these sufferings? I pressed my wound hard and wait anxiously for Baijin, my only “kinsfolk”, to bind it up. This time I didn’t shout nor cry. I harbored my hatred at the bottom of my heart.

Over time, my hatred towards the serf owner’s hatred deepened. One spring, when a mare gave birth to a colt. Caiwangrenzeng, Duomujie’s younger bother, came to see it. He was almost of the same age as me but he always played around and wore fine clothes. In contrast, I ete and wore so poorly but I had to work so hard. Moreover, any slip in my work to the serf owner’s dissatisfaction would invite a cruel beating or killing. At thought of this, I couldn’t help releasing my anger by saying to myself, “ I am always herding cattle and sheep the whole day. But I didn’t have enough food to eat and enough clothes to wear. I even got beaten and suffered wrong. How can I live on?” I didn’t know that this scoundrel was deeply influenced by his parents. He went back home and reported this to Duomujie. Then Duomujie came to question me, “You family didn’t pay off my credit but I adopted you. How come you didn’t thank me but said I mistreated me and you couldn’t live any longer?” Since he knew about it, I decided to pour out to him all my complaints in my heart. But hardly had I opened my mouth when Duomujie wielded a stick and beat me like raindrops. Blood splashed out of my mouth, ears and nose. At night, my whole body was swollen and ached intolerantly. Baiji fetched me some earthen alkaline and instructed me, “I have much hard work to do so I can’t come here to see you very often. If you ache very hard, melt the earthen alkaline with water and eat it.” With her care, my pain had been relieved very much. Later on, I employed this method to stop the pain. Up to now, my whole body may ache when weather changes, which is the sequel of this beating.

I had suffered so much. Was it the end of my hardships? No. In the serf system, the slave’s hardship would be endless unless he or she was eaten by the wild birds. After that beating, I couldn’t herd sheep in the day but in the night I had to stay in the doghouse to look after the livestock. On one tempest night, the cattle and sheep tied around the doghouse became separated in flight. Owing to the serious wound, I couldn’t move about to bring them back. I was extremely worried about that. When the rain stopped, other slaves took the cattle and sheep back for me. Generally speaking, since all the cattle and sheep were fetch back and no loss had been suffered from in this matter, it was unreasonable to scold me seriously. But lying on the bed, I felt nervous and creepy and imagined that some misfortune might befall me the next day. I stayed up that night. I thought, If I were a eagle, I could fly to the heaven; if I were a mouse, I could got into the earth; If I were a fish, I could swim in the river and sea. But I could not be so free as these birds and animals. I was just a kid in the lion’s lair with cuts and bruises all over. At the next dawn, Duomujie shouted at my door, “ Come out, Maga!” Though his voice sounded gentle, I was so frightened that my soul had vanished into the heaven. I dragged my wounded body with the support of the stone wall and came to the door. He dashed to me, snatched me out of the door and threw me onto the ground. He treaded me on the neck with a leg and drew out his waist knife with a hand. He chopped me twice in my lower leg and blood was streaming like water. He went on to stab me through the left foot from the back to the bottom. My miserable cries broke the silence of the dawn. Baiji, my only kinship, woke up and hurried to my shelter. Seeing Duomujie mistreating me and me bleeding all over, she was so frightened as to fall to the ground. My dear Baiji, even though you’d come here, what could you do to Duomujie. The same disaster would happen to you anytime. As Duomujie didn’t go away, Baiji dared not come towards me. She had to turn back and left in tears. Another three wounds were left in my body.

After I recovered this time, I had grown up into a girl of eighteen years old. One day, when I washed my head by the Luohe River, at the sight of my face, I felt puzzled: I had my own nose and eyes just as those feudalistic slave owners. Why should I be mistreated by them? I was a human being just as those serf owners. Why should I bow and scrape to them while they lord it over me? I couldn’t bare such kind of miserable life any longer. I was getting more and more grieved. I would rather end my life in the river.

I was still thinking to myself. Baiji came up to carry water on the back. I wasn’t awakened until she noticed the tearstains on my face and called me kindly. I also felt surprised I had the idea of ending my life at such a young age. I cried to the heart’s content. She held me in her arms and said kindly, “Don’t cry, my dear sister, what’s the point of crying? …” But she couldn’t help herself crying bitterly, too.

I couldn’t bear that any longer. I decided to look for the chance to run away. Once, I heard Duomujie was going out the next day. I decided to flee at that time. On the previous night, I got everything ready and waited for the chance to run away after he went out. The next morning, I saw him going away on a horse. I took the luggage and went down along the Luohe River. But as the grassland was too open, he noticed my figure and chased me on the horse. I hurried to jump into the Luohe River.

I was caught back. He called in his wife and younger brother who threw me to the ground and stamped one of my both hands each. He drew out his knife and scolded me, “Don’t dream you have grown old enough to run away freely. Now I’ll tell you: I cannot control you but my knife can. Cut off your legs and see how you can run away.” He wielded his knife and immediately I felt a great pain at my right ankle and then I fainted. When I woke up, I found myself lying at the doghouse. Baiji was tending me tearfully. “How’s my leg?” I sat up hurriedly and asked, “Never mind. It would be well again gradually. I have wrapped it up for you.” Baiji consoled me and let me lie down for a rest.”

During the period of those ten years, I had been chopped seven times by Duomujie. He said to me openly and shamelessly, “I’ve chopped you for seven times. You still survived. It shows that you are lucky enough to have been blessed by the Buddha.” It is hard for a youngster in the new society to imagine a person would be slaughtered like cattle and a sheep. But the slave’s life was really like this in the Tibetan serf system. A large number of scars left by the knife-cuts make a clear proof of this. That system was the one that Lama Dailai is always planning to restore. That is the “human rights” wanted by Lama Dalai.



3.



All sufferings had come to an end at last. In the winter of 1951, the exciting news was spread all over the grassland: The red Hans had got to Lhasa.

The red Hans! What kind of people were the red Hans?

The pilgrimage goers said, there was red light (i.e. the red five-pointed stars on the army caps) on the red Hans’ heads and a broad smile on their faces; they were auspicious people.

The fur salespersons said, the Hans wouldn’t take anything free; if they did, they paid with silvers.

The tramp artisans said, the Hans were Tibetans’ friends. They gave sugar to the kids and zanba to the grownups.

Duomujie said, the Hans caught kids to cook as food and caught grownups to slaughter.

Anyway, I think, the Hans were not so cruel as Duomujie.

On a night with the bright moon and few stars, Baijie came to my doghouse and whispered mysteriously in tears, “ I’ve heard Duomujie telling his wife that the Hans were the rivals of the rich and friends of the poor. Now the Hans have come. The rich would suffer and the poor would benefit!”

I embraced Baiji excitedly and said, “If that is true, our hard life will come to an end.”

From then on, I waited every day and hoped the Hans to appear on the prairie very soon. If any stranger came up from afar, we might greeted him and see him clearly for fear that we might overlook any person with the red light.

I waited and waited. Time passed by, day by day, month by month. But I couldn’t see the Hans with red light on the heads appear on the prairie. I was so anxious about it.

At one fine noon, I was grazing cattle and sheep at the foot of Mount Pagalalong when a little older girl appeared from nowhere. I felt she was a little familiar to me. It seemed that we had seen somewhere but I didn’t know her. She came up and sat beside me. She took out two baked pancakes, one for herself and the other for me to eat. I accepted the baked pancake and studied her carefully. I thought to myself: How come a strange girl gave me something to eat? Seeing my puzzled look, she smiled, “Eat it!” I felt difficult to deny her kindly offer so I did so.

She talked to me as she ate the pancake. She asked me what my name was, for whom I was grazing sheep, what family member I had. These questions made me feel sad. My tears rolled down my face. She felt sympathetic to me. She told me not to be sad and could say anything to her. She would help me. I had lived an inhuman life in the mercy of Duomujie so I had much faith in those who cared about me. Then I told him about my life story and sufferings. She listened to me attentively in tears and felt more sorrowful than me. “Have you had a lot of sufferings like me, Sister?” I asked.

She wiped off her tears and said to me happily, “I’m Danzhu, your elder sister!”

We embraced tightly and cried heartily. How excited we two sisters were after we had been separated from each other by serf owners for more than ten years.

My elder sister told me some stories about Hans. I listened to her with much fascination. “I come here to want you. Let’s run away together.” She said.

Her words reminded me of my experience that I failed to run away and was caught back. I was not sure about it so I asked, “Where can we flee?”

“To the place where Hans live in.”
“ What if Duomujie has noticed and run after us?”

“Don’t be afraid of him. We have Hans to help us.”

My elder sister’s words reminded me, in the recent days, Dumuojie had restrained himself a little and hadn’t chopped slaves so often as before. I felt my elder’s words are reasonable and decided to run away with him.

I left Duomujie’s cattle and sheep behind me and ran with my elder sister upward Mount Pagalalong. Half way up the mountain, a man stopped us. Assuming that Duomujie’s men had come, I felt greatly shocked and was about to defend myself. That man said with a smile, “Is this Maga, our younger sister?” “This is your sister’s husband.” explained my sister, “He was waiting for you here.” I felt released and rejoiced that I had left the hell of Duomujie.

We walked hurriedly southward for seven days and got to Santa in the district of Gongbu. Here we met the Hans in the army uniforms. There was really a star giving off the red light on their heads each. My sister’s husband told me, “These are Han’s liberation army men. We call them ‘Jinzhumami”

At the sight of Jinzhumami, I was too excited to say anything. I felt a warm wave surging in my heart and the tears was streaming. The liberation army men asked us to sit down for a rest and drink tea. They asked us where we came from and where we wanted to go. I didn’t understand Han language, but from their expressions and gestures, I could completely understand them and answered in Tibetan. The communication between hearts had exceeded languages. They also understood us and then brought a basin of rice and two dishes and asked us three to have a meal. Knowing that both my sister and I didn’t wear shoes, they presented us a pair of shoes each after we had the meal. Before we left, they sent us a small bag of rice and said a lot to us. But we couldn’t understand them completely. On the way, we were recalling this unforgettable sight and thought to ourselves: They were really auspicious people.

Having seen the liberation army men, we felt that everything was filled with hopes. We decided to go back to Maidika, my sister’s husband’s home town and waited for the liberation army men.

We had walked continuously for another three days. At the fourth noon, we were climbing a big mountain when a gang of rebels appeared. Having noticed my sister and me wearing the new shoes of the liberation army men, they insisted that we were “Hans’ spies”. I said the shoes were picked up on the way but they didn’t believe me. They forced my sister and me to take off the shoes. But as soon as we did so, several bandits fought to take them. I said them angrily, “we wear them to become ‘Hans’s spies’. Now you have worn them, aren’t you Hans’ spies?” Then those who didn’t get the shoes laughed at the two who wore the shoes. One of the bandits got angry about it and threw the mane scissors at me. Thanks to my quick dodge, I was injured a little.

After these two events happened, I was sure Hans and liberation army men were good persons. I wouldn’t believe Duomojie’s outright lies. I looked back time and again hoping that the liberation army men would overtake us, go with us to Maidika, northern Tibet and kill all those devils like Duomujie.

We settled down at Maidika and made a living by my sister’s husband’s iron forging work. Though we still lived a poor life, compared with the slave life at the herd owner’s home, our life was much better.

On March, 1959, Dalai’s clique launched the armed rebellions at Lhasa and Shannan. The liberation army men were ordered to put them down. More than ten days later, the rebellion at Lhasa was put down. The rebellion suppression work in other areas also went on very well. One day, a gang of rebels fled to Maidika. From their embarrassing pell-mell look, we could guess that they had retreated from the battle. One day later, they ran away and the liberation army men came up. I have seen the liberation army men and knew that they were good persons, so I came over to welcome them with my elder sister, my sister’s husbands and other herdsmen. The liberation army men were so happy as to raise their thumbs to praise us.

After the liberation army men came to the prairie, the herd owners dared not slaughter their slaves as before. But we were sure that they would unite with the rebels to oppress us unless we completely killed the rebels. Knowing that the liberation army men would go on attacking the rebels, my sister and I offered to act as the guide for them. They found that my sister was more familiar with the Northern Tibetan pastureland, so they asked me to stay and let my sister go. My sister had been away for more than a month. She accomplished the task successfully, set up the class-three merit citation. When she came back to the prairie, she brought an honorary credential with Chairman Mao’s image.

After the suppression of the rebellions, the government sent the work teams to lead the poverty-stricken herdsmen and slaves to establish the herdsmen committee and begin the democratic reform. Under the Party’s leadership, the oppressed ordinary herdsmen stood up, overthrew the counterrevolutionary herd owners, got the cattle and sheep and built their own homes. In the past, they were herdsmen and slaves who had to work like dogs for their lords, but now they had obtained the real freedom and lived a new life. All the members of my family who had been broken up by the counter- revolutionary herd owners were reunited. Baiji, who had always been sympathizing me, loved me and saved me, had married Anga, her beloved person. Vicious Duomumjie and his son were arrested by the government.

The emancipated ordinary herdsmen sang and danced heartily on the pastureland to celebrate the liberation army men’s success in helping us to shatter the fetters of slavery, save us from the abyss of the sufferings and live a really fee life.

4.



After the democratic reform, happy events came up one after another on the pastureland. We are living happily like a dream. In 1961, the Nagqu Chemical plant was put up to employ the emancipated herdsmen as workers. Some herdsmen and I jumped to sign up for it. At this time, some rumors spread up: “The plant life was bitter; you should go hungry to work.” “Workers have to carry stones on the back and in breast”; if the belly is broken, it’ll be patched with the iron sheet.” Hearing these rumors, I got very angry. I decided to investigate who had told these lies. I traced the rumor spreaders one after another. Finally, I found out the liar was nobody but Erkang, a counterrevolutionary herd owner. With the lies exposed, we successfully got to the plant.

At the plant, the leaders handed out some butter, zanba and tea to us and put us up in the new tents. Unlike in the homes of the serf owners where we had to work under the supervision of the housekeepers, here we could work as we were willing to and were able to. If the strong wind blew or it snowed, we might stop our work and stay temporarily in the tents for rest. If anybody was not well enough, he or she could go the clinic and take medicine. All this is very common today but it was rare to us slaves who had just been emancipated from the prison of the serf system. Since it was the first time for me to find the happy work at my own will, got so much care from so many people and lived a decent human life with enough dignity, my heart was as sweet as honey and as warm as flame. I worked very hard.

Having worked for a month at the plant, I was called by the team leader to get my wages. I thought it was okay to eat enough. Why should I get any wages? So I didn’t do it. Later, the team leader hastened me again, “Get your wages early enough, Maga. Don’t keep the wages distributor waiting for you!” Seeing the team leader saying it so seriously, I seemed to have made any mistake and went there with others. At the office, the wages distributor asked me to press a fingerprint and then handed me a pile of white silver coins totaled 76 yuan. I had never dreamt of receiving so much money. Even my several generations hadn’t seen so much. I was greatly surprised and asked others how many years’ wages that was. They told me that was one month’s wages. I didn’t believe either. I asked the wages distributor about this, the wages distributor assured me that was really one month’s wages. I was at a loss what to do and I didn’t know how to hold this sum of money. I pulled out my apron to accept the money. 76 big silver coins gathered in my apron. I felt it was very heavy. I didn’t believe that was my money. With wages, I bought some clothes, a quilt, a sheet, a basin, a towel, a toothbrush and some other daily necessities. There was still some money left. I brought all this back to my tent. I went over all these things I’d bought one after another. I thought and thought. Then I recalled many, many things. My tears were streaming like running rivers. I knelt before the photo of Chairman Mao Tsetung. Looking at his face, I called to myself, “ Long live Chairman Mao! Long live Chairman Mao!”

Soon afterwards, I was chosen as the production team leader. I’d never imagined that a slave who had suffered from the greatest hardships in the world would live like today. I had thought it would have been enough that I could survive. But now I was received so much respect and training. I could hardly believe all of this. After working at the chemical plant for a year, I was transferred to Lhasa Lakin Power Plant. I knew the power plant was a place to bring about light. I would work with my hands and wisdom so that Lhasa would be bright enough forever. Owing to my wonderful work and good relationship with other workers, I was often praised and rewarded.

On the National Day of 1964, I was invited to Beijing to attend the celebration of the fifteenth anniversary of the founding of New China and interviewed by Chairman Mao Tsetung, which was my greatest glory to an average worker like me.

In my life, I had suffered enough humiliation and oppression for the first thirty years. While in the latter half of my life, I enjoyed the infinite warmth, happiness, dignity and glories of the socialist big family. Which society is better? Which society is worse? It was as clear as the day to me. It was utter a fond dream for the Dalai rebels to attempt to separate the New Tibet from China, a socialist big family. Let him daydream forever.
(Written by Yang Feng)
(Translator: associate professor Huang Mingfei)
 
. . .
There are reasons why I hate Chinese dramas:

1. They usually instigate political outrage

2. They are generally historically inaccurate

3. They don't provide pleasure, but argument

4. They don't have any purpose and their story has no life

This is a prime example.
 
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The Myth of Tibet

How a dictatorial regime of monks is romantically transfigured

by Colin Goldner

Translated from the original article as it appeared in the German humanist journal diesseits under the title "Mythos Tibet" [# 49/1999, pp. 14 - 15]. Reprinted and translated by Eunacom Secular Publications with permission from diesseits

This is about the people in Tibet, about their social liberation and individual self-determination. Tibet shall be free from Chinese military dictatorship. But it ought to be just as free from the violent religious fundamentalism of the Tibetan Lamas.

The "old Tibet," as it is pictured in uncountable books and writings that are common in the west today, is shown as a Paradise on earth–the mythical Shangri-La, that permitted a happy and satisfying life for her people in accord with themselves, nature, and the gods. The Dalai Lama himself gives a wordy description of the cheerful and carefree life the people had lead there. The continuous influence of Buddhism produced a "society of peace and harmony." With the occupation of Tibet by the Chinese in 1950 this paradise was irretrievably destroyed.

Modern recorded history has known for some time that the "old Tibet" was in no way the peaceful, harmonious society as the Dalai Lama constantly conjures it up. For the large majority of the people, life was indeed the "hell on earth" of which Chinese propagandists always speak, and that was used to legitimize the invasion of 1950 as a revolutionary obligation to liberate the Tibetan people.

Merciless Exploitation

The ruling elite of monks exploited land and people without pity with the help of a wide spread network of monasteries and strongholds. Bitter poverty and hunger dominated everyday life in Tibet; there were no educational or health facilities. Similar to the Hindu society of India, Tibet maintained a strict caste hierarchy, including a caste of "untouchables." Privileged and, respectively, underprivileged living conditions were pronounced and justified via the Buddhist Karma dogma which postulates that the present life is always a result of accumulated merits, and, respectively, faults in an earlier life.

The Tibetan penal code was marked by extreme cruelty. Some of the usual punitive measures that lasted far into the 20th century consisted of public floggings, amputation of limbs, gouging of eyes, pulling skin off the flesh of living convicts, and the like. Because Buddhist principles prohibits the killing of living beings, delinquents were often tortured close to death and then left to their own fate. If they died as a result of the tortures, it was considered to have been caused by their own Karma.

The Dalai Lama lately admits that the feudal Tibet was "certainly not perfect." But thereby ends his self-critique. He completely fades out the wretchedness of the mass of the population under the joke of the regime of monks. He still glosses over these conditions and thereby nourishes the romantic transfiguration of the old Tibet.

This transfigured view of Tibet, particularly in the west, is based mainly on a glaring ignorance of historical facts. Tibet’s theocratic feudalism existed in its 1950 predominant form since the middle of the 17th century, when a militant sect of the Gelugpa ("Yellowcaps"), with the aid of the Mongolians, succeeded in eliminating all domestic political opponents. This resulted in the leader of the "Gelugpa" of that time, recognized as the "great fifth Dalai Lama," pronouncing himself as the highest spiritual and secular authority of the land. Even though Tibet was assigned to the military protectorate of the Manchu in 1720, and was completely transformed into a vassal state of China in 1793, the regime of the Lamas maintained unrestricted internal power.

Occupying Power China

The 1950 Chinese occupation of Tibet was founded in this historically derived–and inherited from the empire, so to speak–self-conception of the Peoples Republic of China. From Beijing’s view Tibet counts, and counted since always (at the latest since 1720), as an inseparable part of Chinese territory; if the occupation is therefore legitimated by the law of nations or not cannot be clarified with any finality. There will probably be irreconcilable views about this even in future.

The acts of violence and destruction carried out by the peoples liberation army, particularly those carried out in the name of the cultural revolution in the years of 1960, cannot be justified or excused in any way. Nevertheless, one cannot trust, in principle, the pronouncements of the exiled Tibet supporters-scenario: These are, if not totally invented out of thin air, as a rule hopelessly exaggerated and/or refer to no longer actual happenings. The contention of the Dalai Lama’s exiled government that "the daily life of the Tibetans in their own land" are dictated by "torture, mental terror, discrimination and a total disrespect for of human dignity" is pure propaganda meant to collect sympathy points or monetary contributions; such accusations do not reflect today’s realities in Tibet. Likewise, the accusations of forced abortions and blanket area sterilizations of Tibetan women, of a flooding of the land by Chinese colonists, of systematic destruction of the Tibetan cultural heritage do not agree with the facts.

Nothing legitimizes democratically the Dalai Lamas as "King-Gods" of Tibet; rather they are, similar to the other Great-Lamas, chosen for their role on the basis of astrological and other chance-predictions by the Gelugpa. The present Dalai Lama, who sees himself as the fourteenth reincarnation of his predecessors, was chosen this way at the age of two and a half years.

Ghosts and Demons

The Gelugpa doctrine is an abstruse collection of beliefs in ghosts and demons, combined with degrading rituals of subjugation. Like all religion it is based essentially on the exploitation of shrewdly targeted fear of the hereafter. The teachings of Tibetan Buddhism are steeped in horrifying depictions of monsters, vampires, and devils. Who will not obey the divine laws of the Lamas will find himself inevitably in one of the sixteen hells. One of these consists of a being immersed to the neck in a "stinking swamp of excrements," while, at the same time, being "picked at and gnawed to the bone by the razor sharp beaks of the huge insects that live there." In other hells one is burnt, smashed, squashed, and crushed by boulders or cut into a thousand pieces by huge razor knives. And that is constantly repeated over eons. What this kind of pathological Karma craze causes in the heads of simple structured, uneducated people–not to speak of the heads of three or four year old children who are saturated with this–one can only guess with a shudder.

Tibetan Buddhism systematically raises people with crippled minds and souls. A significant component of the ritualism, to which also belong various–as a rule deeply contemptuous of women–sexual practices, is the ingestion of "unclean substances." These include five kinds of meat (bull, dog, elephant, horse, and human meats) as well as five kinds of liquids (excrement, brain, sexual fluids, blood, and urine). The in-depth reasoning for this kind of tantric rites is to obtain knowledge that "no thing in itself is clean or unclean and such notions are simply based on false abstractions." Consequently, even human flesh has to be eaten.

A whole society is victimized by such collective acts of delusion under the joke of this madness that is passed on from one generation of monks to the next. In the end, even the monks and Lamas themselves are victims who, drilled since earliest childhood, having been robbed of any chance of independent thinking and acting, cannot themselves recognize this psychopathic lunacy in which they are caught; they who, contrariwise, take their hidden and crippled self-consciousness, their spittle licking and feces eating as an expression of a higher consciousness, indispensable for the "road to enlightenment."

Note: Colin Goldner is director of the Forum of critical psychology in Munich, an information center for those injured through psycho cultures. He presented numerous published critiques of esoterica and occultism. His latest publication is entitled: "Dalai Lama — Decline of a God-King" (Alibri Publishers, Aschaffenburg, 1999).

Terror against critics of the Dalai Lama

Munich: The Munich sect and occultism critic Colin Goldner is being massively threatened. This is triggered by his new book about the Dalai Lama and Tibetan Buddhism. Among other items, sexual practices of the Lamas with children are exposed. An anonymous letter was received by Goldner’s publishing office in September [1999] in which it was stated that "he must pay for this," if his book is not withdrawn. The note was signed: "Death to the Traitor."

The Alibi publishing house received a parcel addressed to Goldner in October [1999] and it was suspected to contain explosives. In the end, it "only" contained an evil smelling mixture of feces and paper. Colin Goldner: "Here we can see how far the supposedly peacefulness of Tibetan Buddhism is going. Violence runs like a red tracer thread through the history of Vajrayana-Buddhism, even though the Dalai Lama projects a different picture.

The "review" in the Scene-Magazine Tibet Forum fits this picture; in it the Goldner book is equated with the anti-Jewish combative Nazi paper "Der Stürmer" (The Storm Trooper).

[© Translation by Eunacom Secular Publications]

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