Chengdu News

Lhagang Sakyapa Monastery.
Photo: Graham Simmons

Tibetans feared their culture and lifestyle would be threatened when the railway from north-west China to their capital, Lhasa, opened last July. But Tibetan ways still thrive in some parts of the country.

One such area is the Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture of Ganzi, now a part of China's Sichuan province. Until 1949, this region was a part of Tibet, yet the Chinese authorities have treated Ganzi with a remarkable lack of paranoia.

The atmosphere here is totally relaxed: hardly a Chinese soldier is to be seen, a visitor can wander freely without having to worry about permits and images of the Dalai Lama are found in the most surprising places.

Ganzi is the homeland of the Khampa people - wild-looking, fierce warriors who still routinely carry knives. In the Sichuan capital Chengdu, I am privileged to meet Janice Ju, who together with Australian Linda Margrie is helping some Khampa people from the highland town of Tagong set up the Khampa Cultural Centre (www.khampaculturalcentre.com).

Ju shows me around the centre, which sells handicrafts and runs horse-riding tours of the nomadic settlements and the remote monasteries of the grasslands.

Tagong and the Khampa Cultural Centre are a short distance north-west of the prefecture's capital, Kangding, which occupies a difficult but scenically unrivalled location in a narrow valley, sprawling along both sides of the wild Zheduo River.

Just walking the streets of Kangding is a buzz, with its fascinating multicultural mix (Tibetans, ethnic Chinese, Mongolians and others) making for great street theatre. Every night at seven, seemingly the whole town gathers in the main square to dance. The dancers are a mixture of Tibetans and Chinese, but the former call the tune.

Kangding's two main monasteries, An Jue and Kangding Dorjedra, are equally intriguing. The monasteries were built by different sects of Buddhism (Gelukpa and Kagyupa) but in Ganzi prefecture such things mean little. In the 19th century Ganzi was the birthplace of the Rime movement, which unites the different threads of Tibetan Buddhism in a finely woven tapestry.

Tagong, about two hours by road from Kangding, is not just the "Wild East" of Tibet. Its visiting characters from the grasslands look like extras in a John Wayne movie - as well as swords and knives, the men sport Alice Cooper-style hairdos, blood-red hair braids and fearsome scars. Men and women alike, especially those from Derge in the far north-west, wear big wooden earrings; women wear attractive gold-filigree headpieces.
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In Litang, in the far west of Sichuan and for centuries a staging post on the Chengdu-Lhasa tea-trade route, the population is still more than 80 per cent Tibetan, in marked contrast to the increasingly Chinese ethnic make-up of present-day Lhasa.

En route from Tagong to Litang, the road climbs to a 4718-metre pass. The air is so rarefied that my chest seems to be collapsing in upon itself. Fortunately, I stocked up on a plentiful supply of Tibetan plateau ginseng (Rhodiola crenulata) in Kangding; this preparation works wonders in cases of altitude sickness.

At more than 4100 metres above sea level, Litang is said to be the world's highest major city, with a population of about 50,000 permanent residents. This number is swollen by hordes of nomads from the plains buying and selling horses in the main street, bartering for cloth and jewellery or just strutting in local costume and cowboy hats - the latter an absolute necessity against the fierce sunshine.

Litang's Chode Monastery is in the final stages of an extensive facelift. This large building was bombed by the Chinese in 1956, in retaliation for a Khampa rebellion. In the Cultural Revolution a decade later, most of its shrines were again destroyed. Tibetans still call that era "the time when the sky fell to earth."

Litang today is a far cry from those days of mass terror. The marketplaces are thriving and are a great place to buy handicrafts and other souvenirs. A silver-handled dagger with a scabbard engraved with fierce Naga designs - enough to ward off any potential assailant - costs about 150 yuan ($24). Other great buys include copper kettles, jewellery, colourful fabrics and broad-brimmed hats.

Out of town, some 20 kilometres south on the Daocheng road, I pay a visit to the new Zharge Nyenri Monastery. Towering over the monastery are two rocky crags said to be a sacred abode of the Tibetan Buddhist saint Guru Padmasambhava - pilgrims come to make a kora (circular walk) around the rocks. I fear that I've committed an act of desecration by climbing up between the two rocks instead of making the kora.

But karmic retribution comes quickly. I am looking forward to attending the Litang Horse Festival but find myself cruelly financially challenged. I can't find an ATM anywhere in town and have no cash or travellers cheques left. No one will take so much as a sniff of a credit card. Penniless, I'm forced to beat a retreat to Chengdu.

But I may not have missed too much. For the first time in living memory the Litang Horse Festival is called off, less than three days into its usual seven-day program. The cause is an attack on the local police station by Khampa nomads, aggrieved over a disputed race-result decision. Fortunately, the matter is resolved in typically kind-hearted Tibetan fashion.

So, barring unforeseen circumstances, the next Litang Horse Festival will proceed as usual. I'll see you there.

Destination Tibet
* GETTING THERE
Several airlines, including Singapore Airlines, Malaysian Airlines and Thai International, fly regularly to Chengdu, in western China. Flight Centre (www .flightcentre.com.au) has return air fares from Sydney starting at $934. Comfortable buses from Chengdu's south-west bus terminal go to Kangding, and Litang.