Most western liberals are fascinated by Tibet. Many of them are also strong supporters of Tibetan independence. As an immigrant from China, I have encountered many uncomfortable situations when my western friends appeared rude during social occasions because of Tibet. It was painful for me to handle such situations. I do not want to lose my friends over something that was not really their fault. But on the other hand staying quiet is not my style either. Motivated by such difficulties, my good friend Mei provides a translation of a little story told by Sasu, that can perhaps give you the other side of the story in a gentler way...
The whole story is available on Mei's website, Tales Across The Sea. I will give some excerpt below.
Her introduction:
This translation was motivated by a rather inconspicuous comment a good friend of mine made in her blog. She watched the 2009 Chinese New Year Gala on TV in a friend’s house, and made various observations about the gala, in her usual humorous style. I was all itching to leave some comments of my own on her blog, when the last sentence of her article jumped to my eyes – it was an off-hand remark: "... at least three hours in, no mention of Tibet; but then you’re only supposed to think happy thoughts during Chinese New Year."
It was an innocent remark that nevertheless stung, as if a dear friend suddenly started to joke about my family problems in a party. She was of course not the first one of my friends who talked about Tibet, since the issue has practically become a fashion statement in the west. But taking a side in someone else’s family dispute is one thing, joking about it like enjoying a comic show is another. I was so put off by the comment that for a couple of months I couldn’t find a way to talk to her.
The thing is, I really like my friend, and see her as one of my best friends, so this state of affair wouldn’t do. It’s also not nice to leave my friend wondering why I suddenly went silent on her. This little essay by Sasu, which I hastily translated here, is my attempt at bringing up the issue and getting it out of my system, without pretending it didn’t matter to me.
One thing I wondered about in the last few weeks was: why do I care at a personal level? After all, I have never personally known a Tibetan, nor have I visited the land. The only connection in my experience – at a personal level, not at a "talk over a newspaper" level – was taking a smaller allocation of meat and eggs in the lean times of 70s, by policy, so that my ethnic minority friends from far away could have more. As kids, we were thus connected, like brothers and sisters in the same family who shared what little food we had and survived the worst of times. In more hokey words, we are struggling to hold the family together because we are connected by love. Even if the love might have been "brainwashed" into our minds, it was tested and proven under pressure of survival, a love much stronger than the convenient passion for Tibet proclaimed by any western celebrity, including Dalai Lama himself (who is, no doubt, more a western celebrity than a Tibetan).
So here it is, a little essay by an internet writer Sasu, who lives in Japan and makes his living as an IT engineer. Sasu mostly writes about interesting events and characters connected to his life as a Beijing native. He has published several books, and now writes regularly for printed media as well. The piece I translated here is a rather "light" essay about his Tibetan friend Adan, and things he learned about what kind of people Tibetans are. I had always felt that taking the overseas Tibet Independence movement as a representation of the Tibetan people is practically an insult to the true Tibetans. That was the sentiment that partially motivated the choice of this piece.
The story of how Tibetans settle a dispute between two villages:
My journalist friend stayed in a village near the center of Ali. The whole village population was Tibetans, as were the village leaders. Government jobs are simple in such places: hospital, communication, disaster relief, stores. There is no need, nor manpower, to do anything else.
The local Tibetans are like Tibetans in any other village, who are, needless to say, honest and kind.
But the honest and kind villagers did a little something not quite so honest or kind.
On the other side of the hill, opposite this village, was another village.
One day, a yak from the other village ran over to graze on this side of the hill. A few fellows from this village shot and cooked the yak.
A few days later, the other village sent someone to look for the yak.
The Tibetans in this village simply shook their heads — no no, we didn’t see it.
Despite this adament denial, the other village was not fooled. They traced the yak, and concluded that yes, "you took our yak".
So, the two villages decided to hold a negotiation session.
The location of the negotiation was chosen to be the hilltop between the two villages.
On the day of the mediation, my journalist friend saw that the village leaders all put on their best traditional attire, hopped on their best horses, and took off for the meeting site.
Out of curiosity, my friend followed. When she saw the scene at the meeting location, she was shocked — the leaders from the other village were also in their best clothes and on their best horses. Behind them were a milling crowd. Apparently the whole other village had arrived!
Just as my friend was recovering from the initial shock, she heard footsteps behind her as well — all villagers from this side of the hill had also come!
Was a fight going to break out?
But when she saw the faces of the villagers, she thought her eyes were failing her.
The villagers, old and young, all had the same expression on their faces — joy!
Carrying her bewilderment, she followed the crowd to the top of the hill.
The negotiation lasted only 10 minutes. Translated to our language, here is the essence of the negotiation –
Village A: Our yak was eaten by your people ...
Village B: No, it was not us.
Village A: There is nobody else around here. It could only be you.
Village B: Did you see us eating it?
Village A: If you put it this way, obviously our perspectives on this matter are quite different.
Village B: So it seems. Do you think this negotiation can solve the problem?
Village A: I don’t think so.
Village B: Neither do I.
Village A: Alright, we will send someone to your village later to arrange a time for the next negotiation session.
Village B: OK.
Ten minutes? If you count the time spent on greetings.
In order to reach this beautiful common understanding, the next 3-4 hours were spent by villagers from both sides singing, dancing, drinking, and eating. Village A slaughtered a yak for this occasion, and Village B agreed to contribute a yak for next time ... my journalist friend were dragged into several dances in that day’s joyous celebration.
The Tibet problem is a complex one. There are some very good books written about the problem. One good book is Sky Burial by Wang Lixiong (<天葬>王力雄). It is also a recommended reading by pro-Tibetan-independence people. I'm in fact linking to a pro-TI website. But reading it would be a first step in trying to understand the complexity of the problem.