Tashi Rabten (pen name: Theurang) is a Tibetan writer, poet and editor who is serving a four-year sentence in Mianyang Prison, Sichuan Province. He graduated from North-West University for Nationalities and edited the now-banned Tibetan language journal “Shar Dungri” and also published “Written in Blood”, a compilation of his poems, notes and writings on the situation in Tibet following the 2008 protests.
In this essay, translated by TCHRD, the writer condemns the cultural insensitivity of Chinese tourists and the commercialization of Tibetan culture as the number of Chinese tourists continues to rise, exerting immense pressure on the fragile ecology and landscape of the Tibetan Plateau.
They treat us like animals
By Theurang
During the summer, my homeland is filled with swarms of Chinese tourists. The rush of tourists means that elderly Tibetans are having difficulties circumambulating the monasteries. Covering their heads in robes, monks and nuns stand by gaping at the tourists in silence. When I see these images, when I think about them, I suffer from intense pain and despair. Anger and resentment boil in my heart. Today, under the crushing boots of foreigners, my homeland is suffering from degeneration and decay.
Like swarms of ants unleashed by anthills, these increasing number of tourists are making preparations to settle themselves permanently on our lands. What makes me laugh and cry at the same time is to witness the smiling faces of the Tibetan masses lured by hard cash. Even the leaders of the nomadic villages have signed contracts to sell their lands. In the next two to three years, these visitors who call themselves tourists will settle permanently on our lands.
When tourist vehicles arrive, ruddy-faced Tibetan women and snot-nosed Tibetan boys rush into action with their horses. Holding their breath, desperation in their eyes, they carry Chinese tourists on their horses and walk up the mountains. Holding fifty-Yuan notes in their hands, smiles written all over their faces, they kill their time waiting for the arrival of other tourists. When I see them, I wonder how a race that once conquered two-thirds of the world’s territory has now been turned into a bunch of soul-less slaves serving other people. My dear fellow-countrymen, if we cannot paint the bones of our ancestors in gold, the least we could do is not to throw their gray hair in the wind.
Tourists visiting from surrounding areas carry cameras of different sizes in their hands. Crowds of monks, elderly folks and ‘servicemen’ bearing horses gape at the tourists when the latter take pictures of nomadic villages and rivers. One of the tourists pointed his camera at the strange-looking eyes of these Tibetans and took their pictures. When I saw this, I wondered: ‘When the tourist returns to his place, where would he advertize this picture and what sort of caption would he give it?’ These thoughts gave me intense pain and despair.
Why do these tourists point their cameras on the faces of elderly Tibetans and take their pictures? Do these tourists not have a sense of ethics and morality? If we turn around and point the camera on their faces and take their pictures, wouldn’t they run away from us saying we are violating their rights? The fact that they keep taking pictures of our people, our mountains and our villages—despite knowing that such actions are unethical, immoral and illegal—clearly shows what kind of status our people enjoy. They treat us like animals lacking the ability of speech. They treat us as wage laborers who could be swayed in any direction by the lure of hard cash. They treat us as a race of ignorant barbarians. My dear fellow countrymen, as the saying goes, if sons fail to inherit the legacy of forefathers or if the thread fails to inherit the legacy of needles, others would keep trampling on our heads.
What would happen if you visit a Chinese city and randomly point your camera on the face of a Chinese and take his picture? What consequences would you have to bear if you selfishly take pictures of homes, belongings and other precious objects of a city? How would the whip of laws chase you away if you trample upon the rights and liberties of people living in a city? Why can’t the standards of law and ethics of the cities be applied equally in our nomadic grasslands? Why can’t camera-holding tourists riding in cars and masses on horses enjoy equal status if human rights have a universal resonance? Like in the cities, why can’t we put up signboards in nomadic grasslands declaring, ‘Taking pictures, peeing and spitting are strictly prohibited here!’