The Tibetans of McLeod Ganj, Dharamsala have successfully overcome the stigma of being a refugee. Upon my arrival, I was absolutely shocked at the economic status and success of the town. Contrasting the bamboo huts of Noh Bo, McLeod Ganj is a bustling city in the foothills of the Himalayas. The Welfare Office of the government in exile has appointed us with home-stay families, which to say the least has been more comfortable than the Ladies Venture hotel we stayed in the first couple days of being here.
The first day of our home-stays, Erika and I were invited by our host-mother, or amala, to her niece's house in the town of Galampur, a 45-minute drive away. Her niece lived in the Tibetan Children's Village (or TCV) in Galampur. TCV is an organization that provides Tibetan children with schooling of math, sciences, or the arts through sponsorship programs. Every single student that attends is sponsored by foreigners or Tibetans of higher economic status. This is the nicest boarding school I've ever been to. It is reminiscent of Western Washington University: with its red bricks, mountainous scenery, and bustling excitement of children. There are about 30 homes there, each pertaining 30 children and a house mother. Amala's niece is a house mother, providing the children with the supervision necessary. Upon our arrival, we were fed Tibetan butter tea (which tastes exactly like drinking a stick of melted butter) and a plethora of delicious Tibetan food. The celebration was Lhosa, the Tibetan new year which usually prolongs for 15 days in Tibet but only about 3-4 in India. Due to the conflict and violence occurring in Tibet right now, the Dalai Lama has advised the people to not celebrate openly in respect to the ones in Chinese prison and murdered. Tibetan hospitality is amazing and at times, a bit painful. Every bit you take, you are bombarded with extra helpings. I will become obese upon my exodus from India.
After the lunch, we went back to the house spent time with our host family. Our host sister, Paldon, is the craziest 4-year-old I've ever met. She is never without a moment's rest. When our energies collide, it is as an explosion of love that goes beyond all borders of language. If there were to be a reincarnation of myself, she would be it.
Every morning we have been taking a language course taught by a renown Tibetan linguist of the government in exile, Dr. Chok. He is absolutely comical. The 20-minute walk down to the library and his humor wakes us up every morning. Tibetan is a difficult language to learn. There are 3 phonetic sounds that do not exist in any other language therefore our native American syllabic tongue struggles to pronounce the difficult -dh and the -ng. Even with this difficulty, Tibetans are much more welcoming when you make an effort at learning the native language. I have noticed that every place we've been, there is much more welcome and warmth when you show an effort to learn the language of the people.
Two days ago, we went to the Norbulingka Institute in lower Dharamsala. It is a school in which Tibetan refugees are sponsored to learn the ancient art of Thangka painting, stitching, woodworking, and all other forms of Tibetan art. It is an impressive display of the strife of cultural preservation amongst the people. Time after time, it seems as though the grasp of globalization is taking ahold of the world but there are places like these that convince me of the beauty of tradition. Although there is a large western prominence in the area due to His Holiness's presence, Tibetans are really trying hard to retain their culture through art and practice. There is no place in Dharamsala one will go without seeing a religious icon of some sort: whether it is a monk, Buddha statue, prayer beads, or prayer flags. The Tibetan influence of the area is hard to miss it is clear that there are influences for the lives of Indians living here also.
Dharamsala is a puzzling place. The dichotomy of the clashing cultures of the Tibetans and Indians is apparent and easy to see. It is a rarity to see groups of interracial friends. There is a tension that exists between the groups and one can definitely feel it. Dharamsala is a relatively young town and there is a distinct divide between the Tibetans who have immigrated here for aid from His Holiness and the Indians who have immigrated here for job opportunities due to the prospering tourism. Indians who work in Dharamsala are in the lower-economic level of income, working construction jobs, kitchen jobs, shoe cleaning, and other jobs with a meager income. The Tibetans, however, seem to be much better off receiving aid from the dozens and dozens of NGOs with foreign investors.
We went down to the Rajasthani slum down in lower Dharamsala today. Working with the Tong Len Organization, we helped refurbish the tiny preschool before the imminent monsoon. This preschool is the only eduction opportunity for the young slum children. This slum formed due to the influx of Rajasthanis into Dharamsala for the construction opportunities and income from tourist-related jobs. It is disheartening to see Indians at the bottom rung of the ladder in their own countries. But it is also liberating to see that a Tibetan organization is willing to lend a hand to the society that welcomed them in with open arms. Being in the Indian slum reminded me of how interesting and hilariously curious Indians are.
I already miss India.
J.
The first day of our home-stays, Erika and I were invited by our host-mother, or amala, to her niece's house in the town of Galampur, a 45-minute drive away. Her niece lived in the Tibetan Children's Village (or TCV) in Galampur. TCV is an organization that provides Tibetan children with schooling of math, sciences, or the arts through sponsorship programs. Every single student that attends is sponsored by foreigners or Tibetans of higher economic status. This is the nicest boarding school I've ever been to. It is reminiscent of Western Washington University: with its red bricks, mountainous scenery, and bustling excitement of children. There are about 30 homes there, each pertaining 30 children and a house mother. Amala's niece is a house mother, providing the children with the supervision necessary. Upon our arrival, we were fed Tibetan butter tea (which tastes exactly like drinking a stick of melted butter) and a plethora of delicious Tibetan food. The celebration was Lhosa, the Tibetan new year which usually prolongs for 15 days in Tibet but only about 3-4 in India. Due to the conflict and violence occurring in Tibet right now, the Dalai Lama has advised the people to not celebrate openly in respect to the ones in Chinese prison and murdered. Tibetan hospitality is amazing and at times, a bit painful. Every bit you take, you are bombarded with extra helpings. I will become obese upon my exodus from India.
After the lunch, we went back to the house spent time with our host family. Our host sister, Paldon, is the craziest 4-year-old I've ever met. She is never without a moment's rest. When our energies collide, it is as an explosion of love that goes beyond all borders of language. If there were to be a reincarnation of myself, she would be it.
Every morning we have been taking a language course taught by a renown Tibetan linguist of the government in exile, Dr. Chok. He is absolutely comical. The 20-minute walk down to the library and his humor wakes us up every morning. Tibetan is a difficult language to learn. There are 3 phonetic sounds that do not exist in any other language therefore our native American syllabic tongue struggles to pronounce the difficult -dh and the -ng. Even with this difficulty, Tibetans are much more welcoming when you make an effort at learning the native language. I have noticed that every place we've been, there is much more welcome and warmth when you show an effort to learn the language of the people.
Two days ago, we went to the Norbulingka Institute in lower Dharamsala. It is a school in which Tibetan refugees are sponsored to learn the ancient art of Thangka painting, stitching, woodworking, and all other forms of Tibetan art. It is an impressive display of the strife of cultural preservation amongst the people. Time after time, it seems as though the grasp of globalization is taking ahold of the world but there are places like these that convince me of the beauty of tradition. Although there is a large western prominence in the area due to His Holiness's presence, Tibetans are really trying hard to retain their culture through art and practice. There is no place in Dharamsala one will go without seeing a religious icon of some sort: whether it is a monk, Buddha statue, prayer beads, or prayer flags. The Tibetan influence of the area is hard to miss it is clear that there are influences for the lives of Indians living here also.
Dharamsala is a puzzling place. The dichotomy of the clashing cultures of the Tibetans and Indians is apparent and easy to see. It is a rarity to see groups of interracial friends. There is a tension that exists between the groups and one can definitely feel it. Dharamsala is a relatively young town and there is a distinct divide between the Tibetans who have immigrated here for aid from His Holiness and the Indians who have immigrated here for job opportunities due to the prospering tourism. Indians who work in Dharamsala are in the lower-economic level of income, working construction jobs, kitchen jobs, shoe cleaning, and other jobs with a meager income. The Tibetans, however, seem to be much better off receiving aid from the dozens and dozens of NGOs with foreign investors.
We went down to the Rajasthani slum down in lower Dharamsala today. Working with the Tong Len Organization, we helped refurbish the tiny preschool before the imminent monsoon. This preschool is the only eduction opportunity for the young slum children. This slum formed due to the influx of Rajasthanis into Dharamsala for the construction opportunities and income from tourist-related jobs. It is disheartening to see Indians at the bottom rung of the ladder in their own countries. But it is also liberating to see that a Tibetan organization is willing to lend a hand to the society that welcomed them in with open arms. Being in the Indian slum reminded me of how interesting and hilariously curious Indians are.
I already miss India.
J.