The Valley of the Black Foxes

Tsering Dondrup

Translated by Tenzin Dickie
and Pema Tsewang Shastri

1.

About sixty kilometers north of Tsezhung county was a mountain pass with a stone cairn and some prayer flags. If you looked northward from that pass, you saw a green valley thick with vibrant vegetation. In the middle of the valley, there was a swamp as large as a cattle ranch with many streams merging together to form a clear river that ran through the
valley.

In July and August, the valley was filled with flowers of all kinds. High up in the valley, there grew flowering shrubs such as meadowsweet, cinquefoil, silverweed, and rhododendron bushes. The middle ranges of the valley were covered in heaps of edelweiss and stellara, with gentian blooming all over in the autumn. Along the river running through the valley, there grew yellow aconite, also known as monkshood or wolf’s bane, many kinds of louseworts including louseworts with yellow-golden flowers, and snow lotuses. Meanwhile the valley floor was filled with blooming sheathing groundsels and meadow bistort, rotating Jerusalem sage and white snow lotuses, Himalayan asters, dandelion, and wormwood. There were many other flowers and plants that even botanists would have had a hard time identifying. Every few days the meadows changed color and new fragrances filled the air; the valley might well have been the famous Tsara Pema Tongden of the Gesar epic, the Meadow of a Thousand Lotuses.

Now a nomad family lived in this valley with some five hundred horses, yaks, and sheep. Hearing their neighing, lowing, and baaing or seeing the animals at their quiet and peaceful rest immediately brought to one’s mind the phrase “Beautiful and Prosperous Pasture!” This valley had an unusual name. It was called the Valley of the Black Foxes.

This was because all the foxes of the valley were black. In fact, it was not just the foxes but also the marmots of this valley that were black.

Even though the people of Tsezhung county hadn’t paid any attention to this fact, when the pasture lands were divided and this valley became the lot of Sangye’s family, Sangye had plucked at his beard and said, “Ah, it’s a bad omen. Everywhere else the foxes are red, so why are all the foxes of this valley black?” When Tsezhung county’s Alak Drong came to visit the house, Sangye kneeled in front of the lama and said, “Rinpoche, everywhere else the foxes are red but the foxes in our family pastures are black. Now people are even calling this place the Valley of the Black Foxes. Are there any rituals and mantras to dispel this bad luck?” Sangye said “our family pastures” because when the county officials were marking their measurements on the map, they had given Sangye a document titled “The Proof of Pastureland.” Here written in both Tibetan and Chinese were the dimensions of the land, the number of acres it contained, and a notation that said that Sangye’s family had the use of this land for fifty years. Alak Drong gave Sangye a piece of paper on which was written two lines of text. Sangye went to Tsezhung Monastery, found a monk he knew and handed him the piece of paper along with a hundred-yuan note.

2.

Sangye, thin and dark, was fifty years old. His jaw was entirely covered by an uneven beard. Some years ago, when he owned a pair of scissors embossed with the figure of a bat, his beard wasn’t quite as extensive. But at one point, either he or his wife Ludron or one of their kids had stepped on this pair of scissors or perhaps used it for some other purpose until it stopped trimming his beard so well. Then, one day when they were moving camp, the pair of scissors went missing. Since then, Sangye’s beard had grown thicker and longer. Whenever Sangye had any free time, he thumbed his rosary with his right hand, while with his left hand he helplessly plucked out hairs from his beard. Whenever he was lost in thought, whenever he was in a hurry, he plucked so fast that it was difficult to see the plucking. Yet unfortunately, compared to the teeth of his missing scissors, his fingers could only trim a negligible amount of his beard.

Sangye was usually a man of few words and he had a very gentle nature. But he could also be an eloquent and aggressive speaker. Before Sangye took the lease for the pasture land, he hung out with the town’s young men, telling tall tales and jokes and teasing each other.

Gonpo Tashi, who was very dark-skinned and very fat, said to Sangye, “Oh, Bridegroom Sangye, Aku Jamyang has tanned your groom’s hide and he won’t even let you eat your food. How will you pass this spring? Poor man!” Everyone laughed.

Sangye replied, “Oh Gonlug, you defeat both yourself and your friend. I find it hard to bear your yak’s belly. If only you were a thin yak, then if your belly were cut open with a knife I am sure some yellow fat would come out but even so it would be such foul smelling fat that other people wouldn’t be able to eat it!” Everyone laughed again.

Gonpo Tashi tried to interrupt but Sangye didn’t give him the chance. “Ah Gonlug, are you still singing love songs to your sister these days?” The men laughed even harder than before. Gonpo Tashi realized that he would not get the better of Sangye today and he gave a small laugh. “Alright, alright, today I’ll bow down to you.”

The joke of “singing love songs to your sister” came from an incident involving Gonpo Tashi. Sometime soon after Gonpo Tashi had taken a wife, he was coming back from the county seat when he saw a woman riding a yak ahead of him. He immediately began singing a love song about how he was a single man and did the woman have a lover and did she want to be with him. The woman, who was very frightened, kicked at her yak to make it go faster but how could a yak outpace a horse? When Gonpo Tashi easily caught up to the yak, the woman turned out be a sister of his who had gone as a bride to another town. He was so embarrassed that he lost his wits, turned his horse around, and ran away.

Sangye’s wife Ludron loved to talk until she fell asleep. She said that the son of the Tipu chief family had become a monk, that the chief had bought a small car, that the money the Ruyong family received for fifty sheep turned out to be counterfeit money, that Ama must have some new clothes this year, that they should give an answer to the Kasho family about whether they were giving them their daughter for a bride. As she kept talking, Sangye finally snapped at her, “Hey, do you think you can shut up for a bit? Even if your mouth is fine, my ear is in pain.”

“I have a mouth and I should have the freedom to speak. If your ears are hurting, then you don’t have to listen.”

Not wanting to fight with her, Sangye just plucked his beard and stayed silent. Ludron continued, “When we took the lease for the land, didn’t they say that there would be no changes for fifty years? What is this ‘removing animals to grow grass’? How can we get meat, butter, and chura from an empty animal pen? Aku Sonam’s family said—”

Sangye grew even more irritated. He said, “Oh, what’s the use of saying such things? We have already sold off a lot of animals, and paid up our contribution. We took the government housing. Most of the families have already moved to the county center. They did say that pastures need to lay fallow for a few years but that nomad families still own these pastures as before. If we really cannot make a living, we can always come back. When Aba and Ama return, we’ll move down to the center.”

“What, aren’t we moving after the new year?”

“Most of the families have already moved to the center, no one will even come for the new year. Besides, I have heard that the houses are very nice. It will be nice to spend the new year in the new place, won’t it?”

“. . .”

Ludron’s Aba Jamyang was seventy-two years old and her Ama Yangzom was now seventy years old. Even though both of them were still in good health, they had turned over the reins of the household to Sangye and now most of the village called the family Sangye’s family instead of Jamyang’s family. Sangye’s son Lhagon Kyab had been sent to school, but after middle school, he had left school to become a monk at Labrang Monastery. He was now called Gedun Gyatso. Some days before, he had gone on a pilgrimage to Lhasa with his grandparents and his sister Lhatso Kyi.

Sangye had nothing to worry about, nothing to do. Restless and uneasy, he started plucking out the hairs of his beard more quickly than ever.

3.

On a very cold morning Sangye went and borrowed two trucks. In one truck, he put sacks of dung and piled containers of dried meat with a skinful of butter on top, in addition to neatly folded squares of sheepskin robes, animal rugs, pots, pans, bowls, and other household stuff. In the other truck, on top of sacks of pellets, went the family altar, followed by the family members and the family mastiff. Amidst the din of engines and the black dust raised up by the trucks, they travelled through the valley. Everyone in the family raised their heads, as if heeding some unheard call, and looked back for one last long look at their home in the Valley of the Black Foxes. When they reached the bend in the mountain, Sangye suddenly took out a sheaf of lungta from his chupa and flung them to the wind, sending the paper wind horses into the sky for merit and fortune. As he did so, he shouted “Kyi kyi so so lha gya lo! Victory to the gods!” with all his might, but just then the truck accelerated and Sangye’s victory shout was hardly discernible over the din of the engine.

It was only around 3 p.m. in the afternoon that they reached the Tsezhung county seat. Here they had to memorize the phrase “Xingfu Shengtai Yimin Cun,” which was the name of the place they were searching for. They asked a man where they should go, and told him they were coming down from the pasturelands to resettle in the town.

The man said to them, “Then you have to go to ‘Shengtai Yimin Cun’ but there are a number of these. Which valley are you from?”

“We are from Tsezhung valley.”

“Tsezhung valley, Tsezhung valley—I believe most of the yimin of Tsezhung valley are to the north of the county seat. If you ask for ‘Shengtai Yimin Cun,’ you’ll get there.”

“What was that—” Sangye pulled his beard and said, “Ximpo Trin..”

“Xingfu Shengtai Yimin Cun.”

At that point, the driver of the truck said they must get off. If they wanted to go and look for the house, they had to pay extra.

“How much extra?”

“Ten more yuan for each tractor. I can drop you off at Xingfu Shengtai Yimin Cun.”

“Ok, let’s go then.”

As soon as they turned the trucks around, a police officer signaled for them to stop. The truck drivers’ faces instantly turned pale. They braked immediately and the trucks ground to a halt. But the policeman ignored the two drivers and peered hungrily into the back and said, “Do you have anything old to sell? Pots and pans, lima and thangkas, old rugs and old tinderboxes? The older, the better.”

“The saddle—” Ludron said when Sangye interrupted her to ask where the Xingfu Shengtai Yimin Cun area was.

The policemen paid no attention to Sangye and said to Ludron, “Do you have a saddle to sell? Is it silver-plated? Is it old?”

“Kan—hmm,” Ludron pointed to Sangye’s saddle resting on one of the wheels and continued, “What are you going to do with a saddle without a horse? Someone wants to buy, we should sell, don’t you think? It’s of no use to us.”

The policeman looked closely at the saddle and said, “Five thousand.”

“We’re not selling the saddle,” said Sangye.

Now the policeman’s gaze fell on the mastiff and said, “How much for the old dog?”

“We’re not selling the dog!” the whole family answered as one. Again, Sangye said. “Xingfu Shengtai . . .” The policeman ignored him, paid no attention to the two drivers, got back on his motorcycle and rode off. After two or three miles, the drivers stopped the truck and said, “This is Xingfu Shengtai Yimin Cun. Give us the money.”

4.

Seen from far away, the rows of houses looked like rows of bricks drying in the sun at a brick factory. The houses were each the exact same size and color. Around each house was an identical fence with a large banner hanging over each gate on which were written the words “Xingfu Shengtai Yimin Cun.” If you were looking for a house here, you couldn’t use the traditionally backward and ignorant way of wandering around and asking, “Hey, where is the house of Sangye from Tsezhung village?” You had to know Sangye’s house number. For instance, if Sangye lived at House Number 04, Row Number 17, Fence Number 21, then you had to look for the numbers “211704.” Of course this was not easy for an illiterate nomad. But luckily that day they had their monk son Gedun Gyatso with them. They also met with a friend from their own camp who had moved there some ten days before.

The friend took them to see a female staff member with hair as red as blood, a face as cold as winter, and hands as slow as a tortoise. Without too much hassle, they received a bunch of keys along with a sheet of paper on which their house number was written. Each family was to have a three-room house with a small yard, called a flower garden, surrounded by a fence. Each house had an iron-plated gate with iron pipes and a five-starred red flag hoisted on top. The walls were made with hollow cement bricks, then plastered over and white-washed. Maroon pentoks with white borders decorated the walls. Sangye’s family members were moved to see that the house design and decoration incorporated national characteristics. As they surveyed each room, Jamyang was so moved that he said with tears rolling down his face, “How can we repay the kindness of our leaders? Even Drong Rinpoche’s bungalow is not better than this. Can our karma handle such affluence?”

The house was partitioned by walls into two rooms, one room for the kitchen and another for what must be the bathroom. There was a big white ceramic basin in the corner of that room. Both Sangye and Ludron exclaimed that it must be the wash basin, causing Gedun Gyatso to laugh and say, “That is the toilet.”

“What! If we use such a beautiful basin for peeing and pooping, our merits will diminish and our anuses will block up, won’t they?” Jamyang said.

His wife Yangzom agreed and said, “Just leave it there, if we don’t know what it is for. But if you tell me that this is for pee and poop, it’s a joke for this old woman.”

“Azi! Kunchoksum, this is a toilet,” swore Gedun Gyatso. “These days, such toilets are found everywhere and I have used them many times.”

Just then he felt the need to relieve himself and so pulled up his robe and sat down on the toilet seat. He felt much more comfortable after relieving himself. But unbelievably, when he flushed the toilet afterwards, there was not even one drop of water. He found after a careful investigation that there were no water-pipes whatsoever attached to the toilet. So his sister Lhatso Kyi had to clean the stool with her right hand while covering her nose and mouth with the other hand.

Though there was a toilet bowl in the house, there was no stove or oven. So Sangye went to the county seat to buy an iron stove. He also bought a bottle of milk and returned in a small three wheeler cab that he had hired.

When Ludron went to the door to make a tea offering to the gods, it was almost dark. The old dog, tied at the corner of the yard, barked unhappily as she came out. Only then did she realize that the poor dog hadn’t eaten anything for the whole day. Feeling very sorry, she went inside the house and without a second thought brought out a whole kilogram of sausages and fed the dog. For the last six or seven years, the dog had been like a member of the family, the only difference being that it couldn’t speak and mostly lived outdoors. Alas, this was to be the dog’s last supper. The next morning, the dog was nowhere to be found, as if it had disappeared into the earth, along with its chains. All the family were distraught over the missing dog. Their only consolation was that at least the dog had a good supper the night before.

5.

The nomads called a dog that stole food a “dog thief.” Likewise, a shameless thief was also called a “dog thief.” But a shameless thief who stole dogs really deserved the name.

So Sangye plucked his beard and wondered, “Who could be this dog thief?” while thinking about all the items they needed to buy such as a TV, beds, thermoses, door curtains, etc. The Gregorian New Year had come and gone but the Tibetan New Year was soon approaching. The county and village authorities made their visits to extend their greetings for the “Two New Years” or “Two Festivals” and distribute such items as rice, flour, sugar, tea, and calendars. The authorities also brought compensation money to the nomads for leaving nomadic life and adopting city life. If there were any problems or requests, the leaders promised to handle these in a timely manner. Sangye’s family was profoundly touched by these gestures. Jamyang and his wife couldn’t hold back their tears of gratitude. They nearly prostrated themselves as they said, “Our leaders are so kind, our government is so kind. Getting so much money and necessities without any work at all, isn’t this like a dream? Thank you, how kind of you, how kind of you. Now we have no problems. We have absolutely nothing to request.”

When the leaders went away, Jamyang told his family, speaking in particular to Sangye and Gedun Gyatso, that they must never forget the kindness of the Communist party and that they must abide by the rules and regulations of the camp. He also said they should go to the market to buy a photo of their leader. Jamyang meant Chairman Mao’s photo but Sangye went to Xinhua Bookshop and bought photos of not just Chairman Mao, but the other leaders as well. He went so far as to buy a faded photo of Stalin that had lost its color from remaining in the bookshop all these years. When Sangye put these photos up above the altar, which was filled with photos of Alak Drong and other lamas, the whole household seemed to acquire a new air of majesty and brilliance. Thereafter, whether Jamyang was spinning his prayer wheel or Sangye was plucking his beard, their glances went respectfully and automatically toward these photos of the leaders.

Even in their wildest dreams, they never thought of making a living without work. And so this Dekyi Keykham Pobang Village or Happy Resettlement Village indeed appeared to be a happy place to live. However, one day, soon after they had moved in, Jamyang wanted to make a visit to town, to the county seat. He thought he would also see whether he could get any information on his missing mastiff. Many years ago, Jamyang had been an ordinary official and even attended a Level 3 meeting at county headquarters. At that time he knew the county seat like the palm of his hand, but now the place had changed completely, developing as rapidly as a horse trot. It had turned upside down. He didn’t even know whether he would be able to find his way home. And if he were able to find his way back, would he be able to remember those all-powerful house numbers? He was crestfallen.

Unable to go out into town, Jamyang began to feel as if he were imprisoned in that settlement. He began to spend his days sitting by the door, his view blocked by the rows upon rows of other houses. One day, as he stared at the corner where they had tied the dog, the Valley of the Black Foxes appeared before his eyes. Then he heard the sound of his dog barking. After that Jamyang began to speak less and less.

Sangye purchased a color TV, a refrigerator, and a sofa set for the house. Watching the Tibetan programs on the TV brought a new joy to their lives. They found the New Year’s Concert on Losar eve especially entertaining and exciting. It was their first time seeing Menla Kyab on TV. They talked about Menla Kyab as if he were a member of the family.

During Losar, Sangye’s family fulfilled two big missions. One was giving their daughter, Lhatso Kyi, as a bride to Kasho the bachelor. The other was keeping Lhatso Kyi’s daughter at home, as per Yangzom’s wish, instead of sending her with her mother. Lhatso’s daughter was born out of wedlock. The family decision was that, instead, they would enroll her in school when the fall session began.

6.

Spring came. Caterpillar fungus harvesters, construction workers, and road builders all descended upon the county seat and the peaceful grass plains changed into a chaotic scene. The stores of meat, cheese, yak dung, and sheep droppings that the family had brought with them from the Valley of the Black Foxes were now being depleted. Ludron and Sangye found themselves visiting the market, turn by turn, at least once a day, to buy some necessity or another. The price of groceries began to rise daily. Sangye now looked around for a job in town, three or four kilometers from his settlement. This meant he had to buy a motorcycle to get around. If they didn’t want to offer their motorbikes to thieves, they had to keep their motorbikes in the house day and night. That three-room house, which they had previously found so large and spacious, now felt small and cramped. Fed up with the lack of space, Sangye pulled up the useless toilet bowl and left it out by the door.

“Ah ma ma!” It was the red-haired woman who had given them the house number and keys on their arrival. “What are you doing, pulling out the toilet bowl like that?” she cried. “Tomorrow the shicha will be here for inspection! Oh no, this is terrible, this is terrible. These people are barbarians!” She began walking up and down in agitation. When he heard about the inspection tour, Sangye became so frightened that he just stood there with his mouth open.

It was Ludron who said, “This thing is useless and it just takes up the space . . .”

“Even though it’s useless, we need it to show the shicha when they come for inspection. Ah ma ma, this is awful, now it is finished!”

Ludron was about to say something when Sangye blurted out, “Ah zi, ah zi! Now what’s the best thing to do?” He looked at the red-haired woman as if asking for her protection.

“The best thing to do . . . my foot! Go look for a plumber immediately and fix it. If the shicha finds out, then we are finished.”

“A plumber.”

“Yes, go get a plumber quickly.”

Sangye immediately went into town on his motorcycle and without any haggling gave a hundred yuan to a plumber and brought him home. The plumber mixed a handful of cement
and two handfuls of sand and attached the toilet bowl back where it came from. When Sangye remembered the facial expression of the red-haired woman, he felt that the shicha who was to come tomorrow must be a terrifying person. Restless and uneasy, he went in and out of the house plucking his beard.

Jamyang found it difficult to keep his eyes open in the sandstorms but he continued to sit outside the door, spinning his prayer wheel and staring at the spot where they used to tie the dog. He hardly spoke anymore. When Yangzom sat beside her husband and tried talking to him, he gave a one-word answer. But he wouldn’t talk any further. Not knowing what to do, Yangzom sat beside him for a while and then went back inside the house to watch TV. Whether the programs were in Chinese or Tibetan didn’t matter to her. She just watched the images. She didn’t even seem to understand the highly formal Tibetan language that was spoken on the screen. She enjoyed watching the pictures, and so found it easier to spend her days than her husband.

The “shicha” that Sangye had been so concerned about arrived at last, surrounded by a number of county and village leaders, followed by journalists and photographers. But the man was not at all as frightening as Sangye had imagined. On the contrary, fat and jolly, he seemed like a compassionate man and reminded Sangye of a Chinese Laughing Buddha. Whatever people told him, he responded by saying, “Ha ha ha! Ho ho ho! Good, good.” Even when he saw the useless toilet bowl from afar he just said, “Ho ho,” which was a big relief to Sangye. After the friendly and loving inspection tour went away, each family, one after another, threw away their toilet bowls. The red-haired woman didn’t say anything. So after a few days, Sangye too confidently threw away his toilet bowl once again.

7.

After two months of continuous sand storms, a mixture of rain and snow came at last. Then it rained without stopping. All the settlement houses started leaking and became quite unlivable. The most serious thing was that the bricks had been cemented not with cement but with mud. With rainwater seeping through the four walls of the house, from outside as well as from within, the black mud began to sludge, the whitewash washed away, and the houses were stripped naked so that one could even see through the crevices in the foundation bricks. Even the photos of the leaders, pasted on the walls of Sangye’s family, were in danger of getting damaged. Sangye was compelled to take them down.

“After paying so much money, what kind of house did we get? The government says it even spent so much extra money on this project,” Ludron said angrily. She continued, “Even though our house in the Valley of the Black Foxes looked ugly, at least it never leaked and it was warm. Now Aba and Ama are going to freeze.” She was suddenly struck with a thought, “Hey, wouldn’t it be better to just pitch a tent in the yard, bring the stove out there and live in the tent?”

“We might just have to do that . . . but what would the red-haired woman say?” Sangye said plucking some hair from his beard.

“That is right. It looks like the red-haired woman is responsible for our welfare. If we called her and let her see the condition of the house, she would have something to say. I can’t imagine the house is in such condition after we paid such a huge amount of money for it.”

“Oh dear, I am nervous of that red-haired lady,” said Sangye.

“There is nothing to be afraid of. If you’re afraid, then I will go!” said Ludron as she stood up and walked out the door.

Truthfully it was doubtful whether Ludron really had enough confidence to talk to the red-haired woman. But since she had made this boast to her husband, she had no choice but to follow through. Luckily, when she arrived at the red-haired woman’s office, the Secretary of Tsezhung settlement, along with other officials and many nomads, were already there. According to a Tibetan-speaking official, “The issue has already been taken up before the county committee and the county government, and the county committee and county government are treating this issue very seriously. All the houses will be repaired within two or three days soon as this ugly rain stops. Until then we ask the public to have patience for the time being,” he said.

“If that is the case then we have nothing to complain about. We are very thankful to the Party and the government,” a young man with a very loud voice told the officials on behalf of all those present. One after another, they left the office. Ludron returned home with a smile and said, “The leaders told us to have patience for a few days and said they would do the house repairs very soon.”

Jamyang broke his long silence. With a joyful expression on his face, he said, “The Party and the government are just like our parents.” Sangye stopped plucking his beard and said, “I’ll go to the town to purchase some meat. The town is really very strange. You can get fresh fatty meat even in March.”

The rains stopped at last. Every house facing the sun had about four inches of weeds growing at the edges of its walls. The repair work finally began in the settlement. This repair was very simple. First they removed the slates from the roof and laid down a sheet of plastic. Then they applied a half-inch thick mud paste on the plastic, after which the slates were put back again. They also plastered a thin layer of cement on the walls. After white-washing the walls, they drew the Pentoks and Dungtreng with maroon and white paint and voilà, the work was finished. A prefectural level delegation came to inspect the repair work, pronounced it “great” and left.

The house didn’t leak again that year, even when it rained torrentially. But unbelievably, when the spring rains came the following year, the leaks began all over again. The nomads again assembled at the office of the red-haired woman. Some of them wanted their money back and wanted to return to the grassland. Again the county government and the county committee regarded the issue with the utmost importance and repaired the houses free of cost. But the irony was that they repaired the houses in exactly the same way as last time. The nomads said they were just “throwing mud on shit.”

8.

Now there were fewer and fewer yak-dung sellers in Tsezhung county. But people began to see another fuel called coal. Previously, only the high officials of the county and the rich offices could afford coal. Now there were more and more coal sellers, and it wasn’t as unaffordable as before. But the coal was still expensive enough that the nomads called it “expensive black stone.” The coal was not only expensive, but also dangerous. In the Happy Resettlement Village alone, nine people from three families died of carbon monoxide poisoning. Four government workers drank too much at the county seat and went to bed drunk. One man woke up thirsty at midnight, and went over to the stove to pick up the pot. He forgot to close the stove. In the morning, they were all found dead. The news scared a lot of people in the settlement.

Due to the grace of the Triple Gems, Sangye’s family did not suffer such tragedies and obstacles. But they had their difficulties. Their money was running out. On top of that, one third of their recently purchased coal turned out to be ordinary beach stones and rocks. So while Sangye was thinking about all these issues, with his hand on his beard, Ludron said, “The butter you bought is very, very old. Yesterday Aba ate some tsampa pudding and he had stomach pains for the whole day. This morning he only ate tsampa without any butter. You didn’t even check whether the butter was fresh or not.”

Sangye interrupted her, “I did check, but the price of fresh butter is sky high.” Upset, he kept pulling at his beard.

“I think it is time to sell the saddle,” Ludron said. “What’s the use of a saddle without a horse?”

“Haven’t you heard the proverb, ‘A horse is easy, but a saddle is difficult’?”

“Don’t they also say, ‘If one has a horse, getting a saddle is easy’?” replied Ludron.

“Maybe it’s easy to get an ordinary saddle but my saddle is not an ordinary one.”

“Whatever it may be, if we don’t get fresh butter, it’s a big problem not just for Aba and Ama but for us as well.”

“However big the problem may be, unless they give us the compensation money for the grassland, we have no other means,” said Sangye.

Ludron sighed, “The tea is black, and the butter is old. Poor Aba and Ama.”

“I’ll go and get some milk.” It was hard to say whether Sangye felt sorry for the old folks or was simply irritated by Ludron’s nagging but he stood up to go shopping. When he opened the door, their son Gedun Gyatso had arrived in the yard.

As if Gedun Gyatso could read his parents’ faces, he asked his grandparents what was going on as he kissed them. Then he took out two thousand yuan notes, crisp and new, and put them in his father’s hand.

Many monks disrobed these days. Young boys were beginning to gamble and steal. Young girls were selling their bodies. In just their settlement alone, five or six young boys had been arrested and three or four girls had disappeared. Five monks had left the monastery and disrobed. One of the ex-monks even returned to the monastery and attempted to steal a sacred Thangka painting of Palden Lhamo, a Thangka that had a history older than the monastery itself. The thief was arrested while trying to make his getaway and remained in police custody. Such things were happening all around them. But happily, Gedun Gyatso remained busy and engaged in his spiritual practice. Unlike the other monks, he did not spend his money extravagantly but saved all the offerings he received from the public and helped his family instead. As these thoughts passed through Sangye’s mind, he felt a great desire to embrace and kiss his son. But he had not done either since Gedun Gyatso had grown up and he didn’t know how to start now. Deeply moved by his son’s gesture, Sangye said, “I’ll go buy some meat” and he left the house.

Ludron came to the door and said, “Don’t forget to buy a bottle of milk. Don’t buy it from the Industrial and Commercial Bureau store. They sell fake milk.”

There were many kinds of this fake milk. Some of the milk was adulterated with water. There was also cow milk being sold as yak milk. Worst of all, chemicals were added to the milk in summertime to keep it from spoiling at all. Even a demon wouldn’t have thought of that. Sangye’s motorcycle roared to life. He probably didn’t hear his wife’s words.

“He’s going to come back again with fake milk,” Ludron said to herself. Her father Jamyang was sitting outside, staring at the spot where they kept the dog. She grabbed his chupa sleeve and pulled him saying, “Aba, let’s go inside.”

9.

As soon as Jamyang came inside the house, Gedun Gyatso stood up. Jamyang glanced at his grandson’s face and asked, “Who is this monk?” Gedun Gyatso was dumbfounded. He just looked helplessly at his mother. “Grandfather’s lost his mind,” Ludron said in a low voice. At that time Yangzom said, “Ah zi, what happened to this old man? Isn’t he our grandson? Didn’t he greet you just this morning?” But Jamyang just became upset and asked angrily, “Ah zi, grandson, when did you arrive? Why didn’t you tell me that you had come?” Gedun Gyatso didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He embraced his grandfather and kissed him, and Jamyang sat down mollified.

“Your grandfather’s fine now,” Ludron said in a low voice to her son. “Every evening he comes to the door and says, ‘Have you fed the old dog? Has that old Gyatho been returned to the corral? Tie the horses Kyalo and Nagur together.’ I don’t even remember these animals. But according to your grandmother, Gyatho, Kyalo, and Nagur were animals they kept when they were young a long time ago.”

Suddenly Lhari Kyi yanked opened the door and, breathing heavily, asked, “Has uncle arrived?” Before Gedun Gyatso could say anything, Ludron asked, “Ah zi, has your school closed this early today?” After putting down her satchel, Lhari Kyi gave them some bad news. She spoke in a mixture of Tibetan and Chinese. Lhari Kyi’s first news was that the roof of their school had collapsed, killing two students and injuring four. The second was that the day before, after a student had stolen some money from a teacher’s house, the teacher had beaten the student and badly injured him. Today the elder brother of the student had brought some friends to take revenge. The teacher was now bed-ridden.

“So the Xiaozhang said no shang ke today,” said Lhari Kyi, explaining the events that led to the school closing early. Yangzom embraced Lhari Kyi and said in a decisive manner, “Ah ho, what would we do if my girl were to get crushed under the debris of the fallen roof? We can’t send her to school anymore. From tomorrow, no more school!” Lhari Kyi was Yangzom’s favorite. She had not allowed Lhatso Kyi to take her daughter along to her new husband and her new household, and had even been reluctant to let her go to school. Now she had a pretext to keep the girl with her twenty-four hours a day.

They heard a motorcycle outside. This was followed by Sangye’s arrival. With him was his sister Youdon, a young woman, carrying a heavy load on her left shoulder. Youdon’s household had not been resettled yet. They had no need to buy their dairy products and in fact they produced a surplus for sale. Every time she visited, she brought meat, cheese, butter, cream and other things for her brother’s family. Being of a generous nature, she shared as much as she could. This time Youdon’s load consisted of a whole sheep carcass, two kilos of preserved sausages, five kilos of butter, three kilos of cheese wrapped in a black plastic bag, a can of yoghurt, and a bottle of milk. She asked after Jamyang and Yangzom’s health, and then gave them a ten-yuan note each. She also gave one to Lhari Kyi. Sangye’s purchase turned out to be three kilos of dried meat and some bottles of juice. Ludron immediately minced the meat and kneaded some dough to make momos for their dinner. They heaped the coal on the fire, excessively, so that the stove turned red.

The house was warm and filled with chatter. Every now and then, there was a burst of laughter, a sound that had been missing in this house for a while now. The worries that Sangye and Ludron had been discussing just a few hours ago, and the fearful tragedy that Lhari Kyi had told them, were temporarily forgotten. Jamyang went to bed early and soon after Yangzom and Lhari Kyi also went to sleep. The others prepared to go to bed about two hours later than usual. Finally as the night was ending, they went outside to relieve themselves. This was when Sangye burst out crying, “Oh no! Oh no! My motorcycle, my motorcycle! Those bloody dog thieves...those bloody dog thieves.” Devastated, he walked back and forth, back and forth.

10.

The female staff, whom everyone in Happy Resettlement Village called “the red-haired woman” behind her back, came to visit the house. She told them that if they didn’t pay their electric and water bills immediately, then she was going to cut off their electricity and water. Sangye, who had grown braver and also more temperamental, said to her, “As soon as you give me my grassland compensation money, I will pay the electricity and water bill. Otherwise, if you cut off my electricity I am just going to install solar energy. As for water, well, we’ll go and fetch water from the Tsechu.”

“Ha ha ha,” the red-haired woman laughed and said, “Don’t you know that Tsechu has now become contaminated and not even pigs drink that water?” When Sangye was about to say something Ludron took three or four steps further and then suddenly gave an ear-piercing shriek. She turned and stood there with her mouth open as though she had lost her soul. Sangye immediately turned back and saw that Jamyang had fallen on his stomach. He ran to Jamyang and tried to pull Jamyang’s head but the body was stiff, almost frozen.

According to Ludron, he had been sitting up straight. She wanted to take him inside and when she pulled him by the sleeve, he fell down on his stomach. When she touched his head, it was as cold as stone.

“I was near him and I couldn’t even support his head when he breathed his last. How unfortunate am I . . .” Ludron said, weeping.

“Now don’t cry . . . Say some mani, say some mani,” Sangye said trying to console her.

“I couldn’t give him even a cup of milk tea. I couldn’t even give him a bowl of tsampa with fresh butter, this morning also he just had plain tsampa. Poor Aba, what a pity . . .” Ludron cried louder than before.

Sangye couldn’t control himself: tears rolled down his face as well. He deeply regretted that he wasn’t able to give Jamyang a cup of tea and fresh butter before the old man died. He felt a deep pity for him and was embarrassed by not being able to fulfill the duty of a son-in-law. Nevertheless, the past was gone and there was no benefit to regretting the past. They could at least do a proper prayer ceremony for the old man. So instead of continuing to console his wife, he unwrapped his studded saddle, put it on his back and readied to go into town. At the last moment, he thought that it would be unconventional to leave two women near the body, so he put the saddle down and went to the door.

Their neighbor heard the crying. Both the husband and wife came to check on what was happening. “The old man has suddenly died,” Sangye told the neighbor. “My kind friend, please stay here for a while with mother and daughter, while I go into town to inform our relatives and to see whether Drong Rinpoche is available.” After that, he picked up the saddle again and went out. But remembering something else, he came back to the house and pulled off the sheep-skin chupa from the dead. The old man had a rosary in his left hand and a prayer wheel in his right. When Sangye tried to take them out, the neighbor, who was older than Sangye, said, “Ah zi, ah zi, he is a lucky man, he is an extraordinary man. I think we shouldn’t take them out right now. Even if we do that, I think it is better if a lama were to take them out.” Sangye left the rosary and prayer wheel as they were, and also put back the sheep-skin chupa on the body.

The owner of the shop with its “Hih Pris for Old Antigs” sign board, written in a very ugly Tibetan handwriting with atrocious spelling, meticulously evaluated all the parts of Sangye’s saddle, and then held up his finger. Sangye shook his head no. Then the shop owner said in broken Tibetan, “Then you tell me, how much is the price.”

“Eight thousand,” said Sangye.

“Eight thousand,” repeated the shop owner.

“Eight thousand.”

“Eight thousand, eight thousand.”

The owner didn’t laugh or cry. He shook his head but then immediately counted out the money and gave it to him. Sangye was somewhat satisfied as he left the store. At that very moment, he saw Alak Drong Rinpoche getting out of a car. He quickly approached Alak Drong and invited him to his house for a prayer ceremony as his father-in-law had just passed away suddenly. Unbelievably, Alak Drong got into the car again and said, “Let’s go, let’s go now.” That response made Sangye nervous. “Excuse me . . . ah . . . we haven’t made any arrangement as of yet. Can you come tomorrow?” he said.

“Tomorrow I need to go to Xining. Do you have a vehicle? If not, come in the car,” Alak Drong said. Sangye did as he was told.

Fortunately, when Sangye arrived home, many people from Tsezhung living in the Happy Resettlement Village had already called each other and were assembled at Sangye’s house. The old folks of the camp figured everything out for Sangye. Consulting with Alak Drong, they even decided the day of the funeral. Alak Drong said the necessary prayers and transferred the old man’s consciousness to the desired realm and prepared to leave. At that moment, the neighbor lifted the sheep-skin
chupa from the body and said, “Rinpoche, please check this out.” He showed the rosary and the prayer wheel still in the hands of old man. But the disappointing thing was that Alak Drong only said, “Why are these things still in his hand? Take them out.” Other than that, he made no comments on this auspicious sign.

11.

After Jamyang’s death, Yangzom began to get up from her bed very late in the morning. She no longer watched TV anymore but just went out and sat in the spot where her husband used to sit. Staring at the gate, she waited for Lhari Kyi to return from school. When Lhari Kyi came back, she often had more news than the news anchors but most of her news was bad news. Just the other day she had brought home two pieces of news. One was that all of the boarding students at school were sick with food poisoning and had to be hospitalized. The hospital couldn’t save five of them, who died. The other one was that one of the endless coal delivery trucks, which were as big as mountains, had run over a car with four people in it and flattened the car like a plate. When Yangzom heard such news, she closed her eyes, clasped her hands together and murmured, “I pray to the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha that such tragedies do not befall sentient beings.” But who could have predicted that such a tragedy was approaching their own family.

One very cold and windy morning, Lhari Kyi went to school early. Yangzom was still in bed. Sangye and his wife were outside cutting up an old cloth belt and filling up the holes in the walls with it. Sangye wasn’t concentrating on the task in front of him, he was instead thinking about the security guard recruitment office in town. All of a sudden both of them felt that they couldn’t keep their feet on the ground. At the same time, all the houses started collapsing one after another. All they could see was a cloud of black dust rising into the sky. The two of them were stunned and petrified. Suddenly a man nearby ran past crying, “Earthquake, earthquake!”

Now both of them, as if awakened from sleep, cried out in one voice, “Ama!” They began to remove the bricks and slates as quickly as possible, as if they were crazed. When they removed the wooden beams lying on the rectangular folded tent, the couple was very happy to find Yangzom without even a minor injury. In order to make sure that she was fine, they helped the old woman stand up and asked again and again whether she felt any pain. When they realized that she really was alright, they couldn’t stop saying their prayers and expressing their gratitude to the Three Jewels. Then another man came running and shouting, “Oh no! Oh no, the students have been crushed!” Sangye and Ludron both cried “Lhari Kyi” and started running toward the school.

It felt to Yangzom as if a year passed, when in reality it was just an hour. Then they came back. Sangye carried the small and blood-smeared body of Lhari Kyi in his arms. He kept saying, “The gods have no eyes. The gods have no eyes.” Ludron didn’t cry and wail as she had done when her father died. She breathed deeply and her eyes glimmered with tears that did not fall. Later they learned that it was only a 4.0 magnitude earthquake on the Richter scale. Except for the Happy Resettlement Village and some schools, the buildings held up and there wasn’t much damage. The government immediately provided the earthquake victims with tents and food and compensated the families of the dead and injured. The government also promised to build stronger and better houses, as soon as possible, free of cost. The nomads were again moved to the point of tears by this kind gesture.

But Sangye’s family no longer wanted to live in the new settlement. They had lived there patiently so that Lhari Kyi could go to school. Now that Lhari Kyi was no more, they didn’t want to continue their lives in that place. So, one morning they hired a truck, packed all their belongings, and embarked on the journey back to the Valley of the Black Foxes. Along the road, the endless coal delivery trucks were so busy running to and fro that they nearly ran them off the road. Ludron, suffering from a heart problem, took long breaths and continuously rubbed her chest. Sangye didn’t look too well either. He kept plucking hairs from his beard and did not speak a single word. They were compelled to go very slowly because of all the traffic on the road. As it had been a slow journey, the sun was now nearing the western horizon.

When they finally reached the pass leading into the Valley of the Black Foxes, the sight that met their eyes shocked them even more than the untimely death of Lhari Kyi. The whole of the Valley of the Black Foxes had been excavated. The entire valley was dug out. There were cranes, conveyer belts, tractors, and machines everywhere. The place was crawling like an ant’s nest. The sound of machines and motors and the chaos of laborers filled the valley. There were so many new roads built from the pass to the valley that the truck driver had to brake and ask Sangye for directions. But Sangye just sat there stunned. He had even stopped plucking his beard. When he slowly came back to himself, he looked around to confirm what had happened. Was it possible that they had come to the wrong valley? But the cairn and the blackened prayer flags on the pass showed him that they were on the right path. “Now I understand why the foxes of this valley are all black,” Sangye said. Ludron, who had been silent the whole day, finally spoke. “All that expensive coal came from here, from the Valley of the Black Foxes.”

I I I