The Collected Works of Chogyam Trungpa: Volume One (39 page)

There was a small temple in Rigong Kha and the villagers asked the lama in charge of it to invite me to stay with him so that I could perform certain rites on their behalf; they also wanted me to preach there. People from several small villages in surrounding valleys came in order to ask for a blessing and some of them suggested that we could still hide in various remote places in the vicinity where there would be little chance of the Chinese finding us. Since no other refugees had come to Rigong Kha, there had been no inroads on their food supplies and all the villagers were very generous in giving us hospitality after our arduous journey.

Meanwhile, we were preparing for further travels, giving our heavy goods such as rugs in exchange for food, particularly such items as tsampa, dried meat, butter, cheeses, and pork fat. Our porters had been sent back to Nyewo as soon as we reached Rigong Kha; they had been ever so helpful and, though not long with us, we had got to know them very well. We gave them a number of presents such as jewelry, cloth, etc., as we had little money; but they were so modest that we had difficulty in persuading them to accept even that much. As we parted they wished us a good journey and expressed the hope that we might escape the Communists.

We stayed at Rigong Kha for about a fortnight; it was now the end of August and we decided to move to the small valley of Tso-phu, lying due south. There are two high passes at the upper part of this valley, one leading southeast and the other southwest. We had not decided which to take; however, we thought this valley would be on our way and it was not very safe to remain at Rigong Kha for much longer. First we had to recross the river. The group of refugees under Lama Riwa decided to stay on at Rigong Kha saying they would join us later. The rest of us, who included Repön’s group and some other refugees, went down to the river, taking some men from the village to act as porters. The torrent was so turbulent that it had been impossible to build a bridge across it. Instead, a thick hemp rope had been fixed to the rocks on either bank. A pulley on it was attached to a belt to hold the passenger; a long rope affixed to this was held between the men on the opposite banks. The weight of the passenger carried him into the middle of the river, and the men on the farther side hauled him up the rest of the way.

Even while we were crossing the river we were told that some Communists were coming this way. In case they appeared suddenly we were resolved to cut the rope.

Kino Tulku’s eyes had improved under treatment, but now his legs began to trouble him so that he was only able to walk very slowly. He believed his illness to be incurable. His wife, however, was determined that we should all keep together; she was beside herself with anxiety; it was difficult for me to know what to do. However, after the scare that the Chinese were behind us, Kino Tulku himself decided that we were not to stay behind on his account, saying that he would go to a small village in a nearby valley where he could rest—a sorrowful parting for us all. We were still keeping in touch with our friends in Rigong Kha who sent us supplies and gave us the latest news. I sent a messenger to the village to ask them if they knew of anyone with a knowledge of Lower Kongpo who would be prepared to come to India with us and act as guide. They promised to find someone; they had several people in mind and thought it would not take more than a week to send a man. I sent a similar message to Kino Tulku in case there was anyone in his village, but no one appeared, so we started to go farther down the valley. We had yet to decide which of the two passes we should take. A lama came to us from Rigong Kha; he told us that he had brought his party from Nyewo following our lead. The conditions there had grown worse, more and more refugees were crowding into the area and there was a very serious food shortage, also a good deal of illness. Everyone was saying that Trungpa Tulku’s party had shown the way of escape and many people were starting to follow, though others had decided against this course, on hearing what a difficult track we had had to traverse on foot. The people at Nyewo had not understood what direction I would take after Rigong Kha; they thought we would be going further along the Yigong Valley. The lama told me that he had met some groups already going that way. I said, “They must be mad since it is known that the Communists are now in that area.” He replied that it was all right, for the Communists had now withdrawn, so he had heard; he added that the eighty refugees under Lama Riwa, who had intended coming with us, had changed their minds and were going with other refugees by the Yigong Valley.

It was now early September, and the weather was breaking up with frequent storms. It was likely that there would be a lot of snow on the passes and the road might be blocked. It took us some four or five days to reach the far end of the valley, from where we could really study the terrain, and we now concluded that the Tso-phu Pass which went in a southeasterly direction was the one which we should take. It appeared fairly easy, though rain was falling continuously which would mean a lot of soft snow higher up. I sent an advance party to investigate; they were only able to get about a quarter of the way and were then driven back by severe storms. They had found that the fresh snow on the pass was very deep, but thought that if the weather improved, even for three or four days, a crossing would be practicable. No news had come through concerning a possible guide for us. A local man offered to find one within a week saying that, should he fail, he would come back to discuss the situation with us; he added, “If I don’t come, you may take it that I am dead.” The weather now cleared suddenly, but still no sign of a guide or of the local man; we concluded that he must really have died.

There was nothing we could do except wait as patiently as possible. Yak Tulku and I with a few monks decided to go into retreat. I told Ugyen Tendzin to make several coracles while we were away and to train some of the men to paddle them, for we would need them later on when we had to cross the Tsangpo, which is the name given to the upper reaches of the Brahmaputra in Tibet.

The spot chosen for our retreat was inspiringly beautiful, it lay beside a blue lake surrounded by high snow-covered mountains; their peaks were glistening above the clouds and pine trees grew all around. The whole place was utterly different to the country about Surmang; it was more like Himalayan scenery.
¹
Every evening we sat round the campfire for our meal. Once we heard an airplane overhead and consulted whether we should cover the fire, though some said that the airplane was too far off to notice so small a thing. I took this opportunity to tell them how important it was in times of war never to show any sort of light. For a week all fires were carefully concealed, but when no further airplanes were heard we ceased to keep up this discipline. While waiting for a guide to materialize, all the camp busied themselves in repairing boots and making other preparations for the journey. We had expected that Akong Tulku would be joining us with Tsethar’s group, however nothing had been heard of them. Our party was so large that Dorje Tsering undertook to organize the people into groups under separate leaders; he brought me a list with the names and ages of all the party. I was shocked at the numbers: about 170 and among them men and women seventy and eighty years old as well as babies in arms, but very few able-bodied men. I decided to explain to all of them the sort of journey we were facing and how very hard it was likely to be. I told them that we would not be able to visit any villages, so there would be no further opportunity to get fresh supplies of food; we must take all essential provisions, as from now. There would be many high passes and difficult streams on our route. It must be understood that we would be without tents and might have to sleep in the snow. We might well be captured before reaching the Indian frontier, for there were a great many Chinese in all this region. Finally I said to them, “If any of you should be overcome by exhaustion, by long climbs and by trekking through rough country, it will be impossible for the others to stop and look after him. I want you all to realize what you are undertaking and if you think the hardships will be too great for you, now is the time to decide if you still wish to come with us.” I added, “I do not want any definite answers for a day or two,” for I knew that if anyone shouted that he wanted to come, all the rest would follow like sheep. After three days, they all said they wanted to come with me and that they would rather fall by the wayside than fall into Communist hands, for then at least they would feel that they had made all possible effort. I arranged meetings to explain to everyone what rules they must promise to follow, and concluded with these words: “If we are attacked we must not kill any of the Chinese. We must not steal people’s property on the way. There must be no disunity among ourselves; and if anything goes wrong I must immediately be told about it.” Everyone agreed to keep these rules, though Repön’s party and those refugees who had their arms with them were not happy about the nonfighting clause. I told them that they must now provide themselves with the necessary food and train themselves to eat sparingly from the start. Everyone now sent their representatives to make these final purchases, bartering their tents and all superfluous possessions; the porters were sent back to Rigong Kha. I was very distressed at having to leave my books behind. Though the party disposed of their heavier goods, they still clung to their cooking pots and much spare clothing, these things in addition to their supplies of food made the loads very heavy; they amounted to almost twice as much as an average person would normally carry, the weight being chiefly due to the large amounts of food that had to be taken. Those of the party who were unable to carry all their own stuff arranged among themselves that if some of their stronger companions were willing to take a part of it, particularly gold and silver coins and jewelry, they would be given half of these things if they reached India. Since a supply of tsampa was vital, extra bags of it were entrusted to the strongest members of the party. Some people had bartered their possessions for musk which was light to carry and very valuable.

A message came from Kino Tulku that he had found a man who knew all about Lower Kongpo; he was prepared to act as our guide if I did not object to his bringing his wife with him. I gladly accepted their services provided that he was really aquainted with the terrain. He was due to arrive on September 13 but did not turn up on that or the following day. Meanwhile we had completed our preparations and I sent some men up the pass to clear the snow. They found that much of it had already melted and told me that everything was in good condition for the crossing.

1
. While in this place I wrote a poem an English translation of which, by my friend John Blackwood, appears after chapter 19.

Days of Crisis

I
DECIDED THAT
if the guide and his wife did not arrive before two o’clock we should start by ourselves. This we did and reached the snow line without them. The weather was very clear; high up as we were, we could even see the mountains near Nyewo. For the first time I felt a conviction that we were going the right way and would reach India; I was aware of an inner strength guiding me and felt that I was not alone.

We waited in the cold till the next day and when I went around the various groups, I found that they were eating too much of their precious food; so I had to speak to them all very seriously, explaining that the food we were carrying would have to last a long time if we were to survive; also that they must be much more careful when camping to conceal themselves as much as possible and in no case to light any fires unless they could be screened from view. In future I myself would tell them if fires could be lighted at all. Furthermore I said, “Our journey to India must be thought of as a pilgrimage; something that in the past few Tibetans have been able to make. Whether or not India has changed, the spiritual blessings imparted to that country by the presence of the Buddha remain: The places where he lived, freed himself from the bondage of samsara, taught, and died have an eternal value. It is fortunate for us that our way is hard and that we are struggling against greater difficulties than the pilgrims of the past, for by this means we shall learn and profit the more from our journey. We should not be thinking only about the enemies threatening us from without. Each moment we should be aware of ourselves and of the forces of destruction that threaten each man from within. If we fail in this, we are indeed putting the spiritual object of our journey in jeopardy; each step along the way should be holy and precious to us.”

After this talk we all watched for the guide, but there was no sign of him, so I decided to go on without him the following day as the weather was not very good. At nightfall, however, he and his wife suddenly appeared wearing their Kongpo costumes. I had asked for him to bring some more of these garments, but he had not been able to obtain any. The guide’s name was Tsepa, he was a nice fellow and appeared to be intelligent; above all, he had traveled all over the area and knew it from end to end. He said how sorry he was that he had not been able to reach us on the appointed day, but he had had to sell all his possessions; he brought a gun and ammunition with him. I explained to him the route we proposed to take following the suggestions of various local people and he agreed that it was feasible; indeed he considered our prospects hopeful. Early the next morning we set out in a scatter of snow. We found that the pass was not so steep as had been expected and the new snow had turned into ice, which made it easier to walk on. When we reached the top everyone shouted the customary Tibetan formula “
Lha gyal lo!
” (“The gods are victorious!”).

We were now facing toward India and beyond us lay the valley of Tong Gyuk, which appeared to be empty, though we were still apprehensive lest some Communists might be lurking there. Our party was so conspicuous in their dark clothes against the white snowy background, I could only hope that they would not be spotted as they moved down. I told them that at least they must make as little noise as possible. The wind was against us and it was very cold; the sun seemed to give out no heat. If we could go farther down the valley and cross over the mountain range toward Lower Kongpo it would be the easiest way, so I sent some of our people ahead to find out if this was possible. While they were away, we camped at the foot of the pass. On their return they told me that they had not seen any Chinese, nor anyone else, but there were a few footprints of Tibetans, obviously old ones. We had several days of pleasant walking through the valley, though always feeling a little uneasy lest our large party might somehow have been spotted by the Communists. When we camped at night we always chose a small secluded branch valley where there were herdsmen’s huts, for this part was at a high altitude with very few trees and was used in the early summer as a grazing ground. Now, in late September, there were a lot of small yellow berries on the trees near the river which though acid could be eaten. As we went down the slope of the valley we came into a region of fir trees; seeing fresh footprints we decided to halt in the scrub under the trees. I sent Tsepa to investigate and told him to go into the villages pretending to be a messenger from relatives of some of the people there. The villagers gave him a lot of information about the number of Chinese in the vicinity of Lower Kongpo, and told him how strictly they were guarding the place; though people were still able to barter their barley in the surrounding districts the whole district was in a state of persecution, so they said. Anyone who had been sufficiently wealthy to have a servant was ill-treated; servants were encouraged to wear their master’s clothes and the masters made to wear those of their servants. The Communists had established working camps for their prisoners and forced them to labor on road making. A great number of Tibetans had died of starvation and other hardships, so the villagers lived in the utmost terror all the time. Tsepa managed to learn more about the layout of the land and what route we could follow; he also procured a small extra quantity of food.