Day 274: Nomads of Eastern Tibet

My informants unanimously agreed that birth in Zilphukhog was a simple business. They were astonished by the apparent fuss and ado women in their new exile home of Nepal associate with child birth. During much of their pregnancy, women in Zilphukhog performed the normal daily chores, and only weak or under-nourished pregnant women took extra nourishment in the form of milk, tsampa, butter, etc. A quotation from an early 20th century Khampa man might give an inkling of the pre-modern Tibetan view of the casualness of birth: “The Tibetan woman is fortunate above others in accomplishing her childbirth easily. She may go to the mountain for wood and bring back a child in her gown”. This may be a far-fetched statement, but it does give a rough idea of the manner of and attitudes towards childbirth in pre-modern rural Kham. Despite the fact that birth was welcomed, especially the birth of boys, child delivery was considered to be somewhat defiling, thus efforts were made to separate it to a degree from the domestic space.

Delivery in Zilphukhog usually took place in an improvised hut for the well-to-do women, and under a simple shelter for the less well-off women. Yudrug-tsang, Druchung-tsang, Gechung-tsang, and other households of means usually built a dung-hut for the expectant mother in the winter camp, or pitched a small tent in the summer camp. When Sokey’s first child was born while working for Gechung-tsang, she delivered it under a yak wool blanket that was tied to one side of the tent. When she had established an independent household, she delivered her children in the household tent, but she had to cut the umbilical cord herself without her mother’s assistance. Delivering children in the household tent entailed two things: that (a) the family had neither the means nor the necessary manpower to segregate the mother when she delivered children, which in turn necessitated her to overlook the pollution element; and (b), because of (a) the mother could not afford to rest for many days unless she had grown up children who could take care of the family herds.

A dependent woman’s midwife was usually her own mother, and then perhaps only for the first birth, as was the case with Sokey. However, Yudrug-tsang, Gechung-tsang, and other affluent houses had a professional midwife. Such women advised the expectant mother what to do at the delivery, and they cut the umbilical cord and buried the placenta. The baby was rarely washed, but it was cleaned with a piece of soft cloth.

Those women who could afford it remained in bed for about a week to recuperate after delivery. However, they were not allowed to enter the main domestic space of the household tent until five to seven days had passed. On the seventh day, a ritual ceremony was performed by a monk to cleanse or purify the mother and the child from any birth defilement. The ceremony consisted of citing religious formulae and sprinkling tru-chu (khrus chu) or “cleansing-water” on the mother and the child from a silver vase. Now they became unpolluted members of the family. Some months later, the baby was usually taken to a high lama or a trulku (sprul sku)—an incarnate lama—to receive a name. Some fresh butter was applied to the crown of the child’s head which, apparently, was meant to invigorate it. The lama or trulku gave religiously inspired names, such as Chimi (“Immortal”), Sangye (“Buddha”), Tenzin (“Doctrine-Holder”), or Namgyal (“Victorious”) and Dolma (“Saviouress”). The average dependent could not afford to purify and name his child in the above manner. Consequently, many dependents never had lama-given names, and were known instead by the nick names they obtained. For instance, these were names like Shigo (“Birdhead”), Keyga (“Happy”), Pulu (“Round like a ball of butter”), which described the physical features or dispositions of the referent persons. Inviting a lama or going to him not only necessitated presenting a gift or donation, it entailed a break in the routine of domestic production, which dependents were often ill-prepared to do.

When a baby was able to eat solid food, it was given a mixture of tsampa, milk, and butter thrice daily. A mother might also chew tsampa first and then feed it to her child with her index finger. A baby was not weaned until it was approximately 2 or 3 years old. Goat’s milk and curds were given to the child, and he was not given meat, nor was he allowed even to look at it. The rationale behind this was to discourage children from becoming “addicted” to meat, as it was incompatible with the tenets of Buddhism. Although the mother did not use any kind of nappy to dispose of the wastes of the child and keep it dry, a very practical alternative method was employed. She made a triangular or v-shaped felt sleeping bag for her baby. The bag was half-filled with very fine dung-powder on which the child slept or sat. Every time the child soiled the dung-powder, the part that was made wet was taken out and the bag was replenished with fresh dung-powder. Shifting and replenishing the dung-powder aptly ensured that the child did not suffer from sores on its buttock. A well-to-do mother might use soft cloths for the same purpose. The baby’s felt sleeping bag could be moved around according to the mother’s convenience, as she had to be vigilant lest the baby fall out, get trampled by animals, or be suffocated by the pet animals living around the tent, such as dogs or cats. As the baby grew up, it was given more solid food, and when it was able to crawl or walk it was tethered to a rope so that it might not move beyond a given area, which could be dangerous as the mother might often be preoccupied with her daily domestic chores. During seasonal movements between camps, the baby was tucked in a spacious pocket of a gown (paktsag), or loaded on a harmless and hornless yak in a pannier whose weight was counterbalanced by another pannier containing an object of equal weight on the opposite side of the yak saddle.

At the age of five or six, children already began contributing to the household work, as can be seen clearly in figure 19, “Phases of pastoral working life in Zilphukhog”. These very young children were given the task of looking after cheese being dried in the sun, and helping to separate lambs from their mothers at milking time. Grandchildren and grandparents were jointly delegated the task of driving away crows, goats, sheep etc. from cheese and other food products which were being processed around the camp. As children grew bigger, the nature of their work became tougher and they had to become more responsible. In their early adolescence, they no longer dealt with lambs and cheese and instead they herded fully grown ovines such as sheep and goats. Children in their mid-teens were responsible persons who herded the main pastoral livestock, the yak and dri. At the age of 18 or 19 adolescents reached adulthood, which meant that they became marriageable.

Infanticide was not practiced in Zilphukhog. This is understandable in view of the fact that both Yudrug-tsang and the dependents were determined to increase the population. However, a discriminating attitude to the sex of the child was prevalent. The birth of sons was celebrated and that of girls was not equally appreciated. The birth of three, five or seven sons was prestigious and auspicious because the three numbers had religious connotations. The number three is associated with at least two triadic concepts in the Buddhist doctrine. One is the “Three Jewels” or Konchok Sum, which refers to the Buddha, his teachings known as the Dharma, and the Sangha or monastic community. The second derives from the Buddhist pantheon where three patron deities or gompo (mgon po) are identified together as a set, being Chenrezig, Chagna Dorjee, and Jambeyang, and collectively called Rigsum Gompo, meaning the “Three Protectors”, or more literally, “Lords of the Three [Buddha] Families”). The number five reflects the image of Gyalwa Ringnya (the “Five Dhyani Buddhas”), while seven is also sacred in the Buddhist pantheon. The assumed superiority of brothers born in the above numbers was related to such popular number symbolism among Tibetans.

I have already outlined above the reasons for the perceived and actual importance of men, and here I shall discuss why women were relegated to an inferior status. Giving birth to many girls was scorned, and being an infertile woman was stigmatized. Infertile women were considered to be innately threatening or defiling. They were not allowed to be in the vicinity of human or animal birthing. Their presence was believed to jeopardize the success of the event in progress. Neither were they allowed to enter the tent of a sick man for their intrinsic harmful nature would only exacerbate his illness. Infertile women were known as rab-cheg (rabs chad) or “lineage cutters”. The stigmatization of infertile women reflects a philosophical predicament or paradox of Tibetan society. They theoretically found themselves in a sort of double bind situation, where the precepts of Buddhism and the exigency of societal necessity were diametrically opposed. The former advocated the discontinuity of humanity, that is, the attainment of Nirvana through non-rebirth, while the latter demanded the perpetuity of society through successive reproduction. The paradox can be seen in the stigmatization of the infertile women whose sterility logically complies with the Buddhist tenets.

~~Nomads of Eastern Tibet -by- Rinzin Thargyal

Day 47 : Book Excerpt : The Silk Road In World History

From the time Eurasians started using polished stone tools to plant and harvest crops and to keep domesticated animals, they began to split into two distinct societies divided by the Tianshan, Altai, and Caucasus mountain ranges. To the fertile south, people became farmers. But on the Eurasian steppe, people continued to herd livestock such as cattle, sheep, and horses. Their herds fed in the cool mountains in summer, where the grass was lush, and were shepherded in winter to warmer valleys and plains. Each group of nomads grazed its animals according to a fixed annual pattern. However, climate changes and political conflicts with other nomads or with agricultural societies to the south often forced nomads out of their normal rounds. The movements of nomadic populations and their livestock continually threatened the settled lives of farmers, whose crops could be quickly destroyed by herds. Sometimes these displaced people and their herds moved westward in search of more fertile grasslands in western Asia and eastern Europe.

Some time around 600 BCE, horseback riding had begun to spread on the Eurasian steppe, and by the 400s BCE, nomads on the north border of the agricultural zone had learned to combine horsemanship with archery to become masters of the horse as a military machine. It is about this time, when these cavalries emerged, that our story of organized trade and communication along the steppe thoroughfares begins, for it was nomads on the Central Asian steppe who brought West and East together.

In the fifth century bce, seven agricultural states in what is now eastern China were fi ghting each other for supremacy. In addition to fighting with each other, three northern states, the Qin, Zhao, and Yan, also had to cope with frequent incursions of nomadic cavalry. Nomads from the steppe raided villages and towns, looting millet and wheat, the major grains of north China, and silks, which were common in China but considered rare and precious among nomads on the western steppe. Sericulture, the process of raising silk worms and extracting silk yarn, had appeared in China in the third millennium bce; Zhou Dynasty folk songs of the early first millennium bce frequently refer to silk weaving and textiles.

The mounted archers of the steppe had the advantage of speed and surprise. In an effort to defend themselves, the three northern states built walls along the mountain ranges to divide the agricultural and pastoral zones. Realizing the advantage of the nomads’ tactics and horseman-ship, the state of Zhao, under King Wuling, reformed its army in the fourth century bce. His troops began to master the bow and arrow and began to dress in trousers and tight-sleeved robes as the nomads did. The members of his court heaped criticism on these reforms, since they considered the nomads “barbarians” and unworthy of any emulation.
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Nevertheless, the Zhao state’s adoption of its enemies’ military practices continued and improved its defenses.  Once the superiority of nomadic tactics and weaponry to the traditional horse and chariots and infantry was demonstrated, other northern Chinese states followed Zhao’s example.

Such reforms increased the need for horses. The agricultural societies did not have the knowledge or the pasture to produce good horses, especially military mounts. Only the vast grassland could breed large numbers of fast, hardy horses with great endurance. Obtaining such horses was not easy. During the third century bce, the Yuezhi, who lived in a region relatively near China, northwest of its western borders, between the northern foothills of the eastern end of the Tianshan Mountains and the Turfan Depression, had emerged as a powerful confederacy on the steppe. They maintained a friendly trading relationship with agricultural China. The minister and economist Guanzi (?–645 bce) in his treatise on the economics of the Qi state argued that jade supplied by the Yuezhi should be the most highly valued currency of the state. “Our ancestor kings attributed the highest value to jade, as it came from a long distance. Gold is the second, and copper currency is the third.”

~~The Silk Road In World History -by- Xinru Liu