ONE
Something like this really did happen. As soon as it took place I wrote a report and sent it to the county government, who, after marking it with the words “situation verified” and affixing an official seal, sent it on to some Tibetan newspaper. About a year passed, and there was still no response. Later, I found out from a friend of mine that the editor of the paper had buried my report in a corner of the office, muttering, “We’ve been hearing a lot about this sort of thing lately; got to be careful, have to be careful.” For this reason I decided to change the names of the people and places involved and write it up as a story.
TWO
Sökyab, the head of D— Camp, was up early. Riding a black yak, he passed by every family’s door. “Soon as you’ve put the cattle out, the head of each family get to my place for a meeting!” he called out as he went. The yak’s lips had turned completely white from the frost, and it was panting heavily. From a distance, it looked like two columns of white smoke were spouting from its nostrils.
Sökyab took a silver-plated snuffbox from the pocket of his chuba, tipped a little bit onto the nail of his left thumb, and snorted it up into two nostrils that were so small it was hard to tell whether or not they existed. Wiping his thumb on the inside of his chuba, he took a look around. “Right, everyone’s here, we can make a start. I’ll keep it brief today. It won’t be long until the monastery puts up the pillar in the assembly hall. Our camp needs to contribute one hundred yuan per person to begin with, and if you’ve no money you can give a good-quality ram.” He put the snuffbox away and retrieved a greasy notebook from his chuba. “In my family, for example, there are five people, so that would be five hundred yuan, or if it was rams, five rams. In Akhu Tamdrin’s family there are eight people. If he gives cash then it’s eight hundred yuan, if he gives rams then it’s eight rams. In Akhu Zöpa’s family there are eleven people. If he gives cash then it’s one thousand one hundred yuan, if he gives rams then it’s eleven rams …”
The attendees of the meeting, eyes wide and mouths agape, began to whisper among themselves. Sökyab snapped his notebook shut and raised his voice. “You all know how many people are in each of your families, so I don’t need to list them all individually. You ought to know that the building of the assembly hall is for the benefit of all sentient beings, and it’s for your own benefit too. Whoever fails to contribute will be kicked out of the camp. No one in the camp will be allowed to speak to that family, and they won’t be allowed to pitch their tents with us, either. Oh, and one more thing: counting from today, all the money needs to be handed over within a month.”
Everyone was left even more wide-eyed and agape than before. Thus concluded the meeting, the first of its kind since the founding of New China.
THREE
The men of D— Camp had been gathering money for about twenty days. Most of the families had counted up the cash according to the family head count and handed it over to Sökyab, but Akhu Zöpa’s family had only managed to save up two hundred and thirty yuan.
“We still need eight hundred and seventy yuan,” he sighed. “Where on earth are we going to get it?” Old Zöpa was so worried that he even lost his appetite. In the past, his family had been one of the more prosperous in the camp, but recently they’d taken two trips to Lhasa, and, more seriously, the previous summer their flock of sheep had been carried away by a flood. Since then they’d fallen into destitution.
There was also Ama Drölkar and her daughter, who every year relied on the government to get them through the hard times. Normally they couldn’t even afford to buy tea and salt, so how were they going to scrape up a two hundred-yuan donation?
Every day Sökyab did a circuit around the camp, yelling, “Time to pay up!”
When a month had passed, Sökyab got all the family heads together and convened another meeting. He took a good pinch of snuff before beginning. “Right, most of the families with cash have now handed over the cash, and those without have handed over the rams. Yes indeed, very good. If you’re a black-headed Tibetan then that’s what you ought to do. However—,” and here, he raised his voice, “Yes, some families—have not paid up. Yes indeed, very good. Haha! And where will those people end up when they die? Have a think about that. I’ll keep it brief today. What we talked about before—I’m sure you all remember. When we move to the spring camp, those two families will be out on their own.”
Ama Drölkar wasn’t at the meeting. Akhu Zöpa headed home, muttering to himself. “My god, even back in the Old Society and in the Cultural Revolution an old man like me was never expelled from the camp! Snub-nosed Sökyab, death’s too good for you! Not even a dog would eat that corpse. You …!” He was shaking so badly that he fell of the back of his yak and died.
FOUR
Sökyab took the cash from D— Camp and herded the donated rams to the monastery.
“Ah la la!” he announced upon his arrival. “The Dharma protectors look so alive! Old man Zöpa didn’t give any money for the building of the assembly hall, so he fell off his yak and died.”
“Well of course he did, of course he did,” said the monks. From then on, they would mention this to anyone they met: “Did you hear about what happened to old Zöpa?”
Alak Drong, the head of the monastery, praised Sökyab profusely for bringing in the donations by the deadline he had set. “How much can your camp put up for the building of the stupa?” the lama asked Sökyab.
“How much did the other camps say they’d give?”
“The lowest was thirty a head, the highest fifty a head.”
“Then I’ll commit to sixty,” said Sökyab without the slightest hesitation, and headed back to the camp to convene another meeting.
“Alak Drong has conferred great praise on our camp! Hmmm—yes.” Sökyab snorted a generous helping of snuff into his right nostril before continuing. “This spring they’re building a stupa. Hmmm—yes.” He snorted a smaller amount of snuff into his left nostril, and wiped his thumb on the inside of his chuba. He took out the notebook, so sticky with filth it looked like a used handkerchief, and opened it up. “So it’s sixty per person. In my family there are five people, five sixes is thirty, so that’s three hundred yuan …”
Seeing that everyone was whispering among themselves, he snapped the notebook shut and paused for a moment. “You all know how many people are in each of your families. Whoever doesn’t pay up by the time we move to the summer camp—well, getting kicked out of the camp is nothing. If you get on the wrong side of the Dharma protectors, then … I’m sure you all get the idea.” And with that the meeting was adjourned.
FIVE
One morning shortly after they had moved to the spring camp, Sökyab was riding his yak around and shouting like a man possessed. “Time to pay up! If you don’t pay up, you’ll be kicked out of the camp! If you don’t pay up you’ll be out there with them!” Spurring on his yak, he pointed toward the solitary tents of the Zöpa family (now named the Yarpel family, after the eldest son) and the Drölkar family. “If you don’t pay up then you’ll be out there with them!” Though he made eight or so rounds of the camp, only seven families emerged to offer their donations. Sökyab was enraged. “Enemies of the Dharma!” he screamed. “You’re all out of the camp!” And so the majority of the families were sent off in the direction of the Yarpel and Drölkar families.
Sökyab presented his roughly five thousand yuan to Alak Drong. “What the hell is this? That’s it?” he demanded, staring at Sökyab in disbelief.
“Most of the families didn’t give anything.” Sökyab heaved a sigh. “Of course you know how much I urged them.”
Alak Drong too heaved a sigh. “Yes indeed, the people of this degenerate era really are stingy. No piety at all. Noble Avalokiteśvara, how pitiful are the people of this degenerate era! So how much money can your camp put up for the assembly hall?”
“How much did the other camps say they’d put up?”
“Not counting the money for the pillars, one or two hundred a head.”
Sökyab despaired (his family too was now very low on money). “If I promised a lot now then I’d just be racking up the offenses. Those enemies of the Dharma won’t give a penny. But I can do my best to persuade them!”
“Then you’ve got to have the money by May.”
“Yes, of course.”
Returning to the camp, he paid a visit to the few remaining families that hadn’t been expelled. He told them about the importance of building the assembly hall, and how if they didn’t give a donation then being kicked out of the camp would be the least of their worries, that old man Zöpa is an example of what happens when you get on the wrong side of the Dharma protectors, and plenty more besides. Finally, he laid out his solemn conclusion: “So, this time, if you can’t get the money from the earth, get it from the sky. If anyone comes to me saying they haven’t got the money, I’ll have only one thing to say to them: when we move to the summer pasture, you’re out of the camp.”
SIX
When D— Camp moved to its summer pasture, it consisted solely of the tent of the Sökyab family; everyone else had been “kicked out of the camp.” At first he refused to speak to anyone at all, and they refused to speak to him. There’s nothing wrong with one person refusing to speak to everyone else, but everyone else refusing to speak to just one person, well, that’s a truly unbearable state of affairs. Sökyab, unable to take it any longer, jumped on his yak and rode around calling out, “Everyone come back to the camp! Everyone come back to the camp!” But no one paid him the least bit of attention.
Sökyab took his complaint to the township government. “I’ve been kicked out of the camp,” he informed them.
“How can a thing like that happen in this day and age? Impossible.”
Sökyab took his complaint to the county government. “I’ve been kicked out of the camp,” he informed them.
“Impossible. Seems like there’s something wrong with your brain. Get yourself to the hospital.”
It seemed like there really was something wrong with his brain. He spent the whole day riding around madly from door to door shouting, “Come back to the camp! Whoever doesn’t come back to the camp will be kicked out of the camp!” In the end his yak’s tongue was sticking out of its mouth by a whole foot and a mixture of blood and sweat dripped off its back. No matter how much he whipped it, it wouldn’t move an inch.
SEVEN
“Everyone come back to the camp!” The next day, and for many days after, Sökyab continued to run about shouting, “Come back to the camp! Whoever doesn’t come back to the camp will be kicked out of the camp!”
“Eh, snub-nosed Sökyab really has gone nuts.”
“Completely nuts. What a shame.”
“A real shame. Even more so for his wife and kids.”
“Well, what’s past is past,” said Yarpel. “As long as you don’t object, I think we should do something about it.”
“…”
The masses are indeed compassionate. Everyone invited him to come back to the camp, and his family was restored to the community. They sent Sökyab to the hospital to receive psychiatric care, and he is turning back into a normal person. As long as that “old affliction” doesn’t flare up again …