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June 28th, 2015: Arrival
Two years have passed since I last called China home. In those two years I intentionally tried to put some distance between myself and everything China. Two years of living in rural China necessitated a break and a re-orientation of my perspective. My respite took the form of graduate school where I studied China’s impact from an international development standpoint and its global environmental impact. This time away has me yearning to return to see what has changed or remained constant. Our plane’s descent this morning over the innumerable factories of Guangzhou brought back memories of my first arrival in China that were fraught with shock, curiosity, stress, and self-doubt, but what remained consistent was the excitement and exaltation of arriving in a truly foreign place.
I will never forget my first arrival in China. I was giddy to begin Peace Corps training and was unable to sleep during the 15 hour flight. When we touched down in a dark and gloomy Beijing, I assumed that it was either before day break or late evening. Nope. It was 2:30pm. I had previously heard stories and seen pictures of Beijing’s pollution, but was utterly shocked at not even being able to distinguish taxiing planes through the thick haze.
My arrival in Chengdu, where Peace Corps is headquartered, immediately exposed me to the dynamism of China. Tea house lined rivers, never-ending construction with cranes and scaffolding hugging rows of new buildings, men eating spicy hot-pot and then rolling their tank tops over their protruding bellies in what I like to call a “Beijing Bikini” fashion, and much more that I certainly failed to notice. I was hooked. Even the stress induced by my inability to feed myself with chop-sticks, speak Mandarin, or understand Peace Corps TEFL pedagogy could not deter my curiosity and motivation.
Unlike my arrival in Chengdu, the dust-covered road that led to my Peace Corps site in the rural and windswept Northwest produced immense terror and self-doubt. With only a basic understanding of Chinese culture and intermediate Mandarin skills, how was I going to make an impact? How was I going to survive??? I keenly remember my first time walking through the city center where crowds gathered to fixedly stare and chat about what this tall, white, and blonde headed creature was doing in such a backwards place. I will never forget the toothless gaping mouths and the expression of utter shock on the faces of the elderly Chinese upon seeing me. I was terrified and became filled with a sense of doubt. Would the staring continue? How could I ever find happiness in such a place if I always felt harassed and devoid of personal privacy?
It is these emotions and feelings of potential hardship at arrival that I hope the students take time to understand and document. Taking stock of one’s emotions, stereotypes, and intentions at arrival will serve to provide a baseline to look back on. Without having assessed my initial feelings upon my various arrivals in China, I would have never been able to appreciate the small victories and opportunities that were presented to me, despite living in a rather bleak area of the country. I look forward to reliving my first arrival in China through my students eyes. I eagerly anticipate them losing themselves and then finding themselves throughout our travels, during the course of which their worldview and complacency will be shaken. Above all, I hope that the students can get a sense of all that they have the potential to bring to the places that we will be visiting and develop a greater degree of solidarity with their fellow humans. Renowned travel writer Pico Iyer states, “arrival puts us back, ideally, in a child’s sense of everlastingness, a future without boundaries”, I could not agree more…
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July 8th, 2015 – A Great New Perspective
I have always felt better on the move. My parents have told me that as soon as I learned to walk, I was running. In many ways I have come to define my life and daily routine through running. A life motto, coined by my cousin, that I passionately live by is, “always attacking, never surviving”. It is this motto that motivated me to twice run the Great Wall Marathon and that has launched me into a life of travel, adventure, and inquiry. Rarely do I willingly slow down this fast paced nature, as complacency terrifies me. It is through my current experiences on this course that I am obtaining a greater understanding of my past self.The recent student orientation and camping adventure on the Great Wall allowed me the opportunity to fully comprehend my past experience on the Great Wall, as well as my prior life in China in a way that I would have never expected.
I usually find running to be a mind clearing and relaxing activity. However, running in China is a cause of stress, more so than a release. You get stared at as a foreigner here. These are piercing stares that know no shame. Stares that you can feel without seeing. They are usually honest and curious stares, but can crack even the kindest of people. But a foreigner in shorts? Running? Why would anyone do such a thing? A typical training run in China usually involves some combination of acrid smells from children’s fecal matter, unknown food by-product sludge that people throw into street drains, and nearly being turned into road kill by an overzealous taxi driver. All of which are the last thing you need when trying to let off steam.
In all of my training runs and preparation for the Great Wall marathon I ran angry. I was frustrated by the corrupt English department staff at the university that I taught at, the constant harassment that I had to endure walking the streets, and the loneliness that I felt as an outsider. As an immature 22-year-old I failed to cope with these emotions in a proper manner and allowed the tumultuous situation that I was in dictate my perspective on China and my life as a whole. I put up walls, turned inward, and became a cold person that was nothing like my former self.
I raced as I had trained, angry and attacking. The Great Wall marathon inflicted upon me the greatest physical and mental stress that I have ever experienced. At mile 22 I started to crumble mentally. I stood at the foot of a mountain, eyes closed, breathing heavily, trying to summon up the mental strength to convince myself that I could put one foot in front of the other and finish. For the majority of mile 23 I crawled up the stairs on all fours. Leaning into the mountain and using my hands to pull myself forward took some of the pressure off my cramping calf muscles. I even went a bit crazy, yelling at myself in the third person, “You are a COWARD Brendon, a coward!!!”. I finished fifth overall. I hobbled away proud of what I had accomplished, but failing to consider the greater historical, cultural, and personal significance of what I had just done.
I find it extremely difficult to leave a place that I really connect with. I always tell myself that I will be back some day, but I know that there is a good chance that I never will. This was my relationship with the Great Wall in 2013. I had assumed that my business with the Great Wall was complete. I had hammered the race, made lasting memories, and had a connection to the place that few others could identify with. Yet my perspective was shortsighted and selfish. I was running for myself and for my own benefit, without thinking about the bigger picture.
I was able to get a glimpse of the “bigger picture” through a shared group experience hiking and camping on the Great Wall. I was able discover what I had overlooked in my previous rushed anger. I found solitude, beauty, and an area for potential personal growth. Watching the sun rise from the top of a guard tower at 4:30 in the morning, while in a daze of meditation and semi-consciousness, a plethora of questions arose. Why was there a need to construct a wall in a location where the natural environment provided sufficient blockades to militaristic advance? What kind of supply chains were constructed to allow for the creation of this wall? How many forests were chopped down to fuel the brick making furnaces that were required to construct the wall? How lonely would life be as a guard in one of the smaller towers?
My thoughts then turned to viewing the wall as something greater that could be applied to my own life and personality. What about the walls that I have put up in my own life to mask my insecurities? I found myself deep in contemplation about how I could potentially do away with the coldness and shyness that I occasionally exude. I sincerely desire to tear down these walls (as I write “tear down these walls” I imagine Ronald Reagan yelling at me as emphatically as he had yelled at Mikhail Gorbachev), so that I can become a warmer and more compassionate person. A person that is emotionally capable to feel and give more.
After the Great Wall Marathon, I hobbled and waddled gingerly back to a shuttle bus without giving much thought to the location or significance of what I had just experienced. It was a time in my life at which I was numb and merely going through the motions. I had attacked, barely survived, and did not bother to search for any greater meaning. This time on the Great Wall was different. I found myself provided with a fresh and new perspective. Watching perhaps one of the most beautiful sunsets that I have ever seen, with the Great Wall of China as a backdrop, fellow instructors/friends and students by my side, I thought to myself that I wouldn’t mind slowing down and staying in this moment…
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July 22nd, 2015 – Changes in Xia He: Economic vs. Spiritual Development
Xiahe 2012: While serving in the Peace Corps I had heard the more senior volunteers talk about Xiahe as a place that you must visit. I knew it was a Tibetan area, but I had very few expectations besides beautiful scenery and open country, which one comes to crave after months in a claustrophobic Han Chinese city. In 2012, Xiahe was on the foreign tourist route through Northwest China, while Han Chinese tourists were few and far between.
The northern part of Xiahe where the bus drops off is little different from other Chinese cities. The paved roads, sound of construction, and formal economic activity stops abruptly as one moves further south. When looking down at Xiahe from the mountains above, the border between Han and Tibetan areas could not be more distinct, as concrete buildings and cranes give way to mud houses and golden topped monasteries.
I remember feeling dizzy when observing the sheer number of Tibetan pilgrims walking the kora for hours on end. The flow of worshippers seemed never-ending. The click of prayer beads, creaking sound of wooden prayer wheels turning, and several individuals doing prostrations in which their chests and forehead lie completely flat on the dusty ground had me mesmerized. Xiahe felt otherworldly. The atmosphere of unrelenting devotion to the Tibetan Buddhist faith and tradition gave way to emotions of sincere reverence and respect. Several days in Xiahe had me feeling spiritually uplifted and I knew that this place of Tibetan pilgrimage would always hold a special place in my heart.
In 2012 I departed Xiahe feeling high on life. I left wishing that everyone could find something in their lives that they are devoted to and passionate about. At that time I did not know what I would devote myself to, but I hoped that I would have the courage to throw myself entirely into whatever the endeavor may be, just as the Tibetans of Xiahe passionately devote themselves to their faith and traditions.
New Developments in Xiahe 2015: The Xiahe that we found earlier this month still has the Tibetan pilgrims and a lesser degree of spiritual reverence can still be found, however, much of the recent development and changes have left me increasingly concerned for Xiahe’s future.
In what was previously a part of the Tibetan community, an area of simple mud houses for monks and lay people, there is now a massive tourist center and parking lot. The tourist center’s design was meant to blend in with the surrounding Tibetan monasteries, but it looks very much out-of-place. The structure is sleekly modern in an area of traditionally handcrafted buildings. I asked around amongst local Tibetans as to how this development had occurred. True to Chinese Communist Party form, the Tibetans previously living in this area were forcibly resettled and given ‘adequate compensation’.
The tourist center serves as the arrival point for the bus loads of Chinese tourists that are now travelling in increasing numbers. I found myself wondering what these waves of Han Chinese tourists were getting out of their travel to Xiahe and other Tibetan areas? Were they in search of greater meaning in their lives or something entirely different?
While sitting at a cafe looking over the Tibetan part of town with a former Tibetan student that hails from Xiahe, we were exposed to the reality of what the majority of Chinese tourists are seeking. We looked on in disgust as a Han Chinese family set up a video camera and then choreographed the kids and adults walking the kora and spinning prayer wheels, all the while blocking the path of Tibetan pilgrims trying to go about their spiritual rituals. When the Chinese family finished its photo shoot and blocking the path of the devout, they boarded a tourist bus without speaking to a single Tibetan or doing anything remotely authentic/genuine. I would be able to draw some solace out of the tourist center if the Han visitors were in search of meaning or a spiritual awakening, but it appears that they are not. The majority are in search of a photo opportunity, that they can then post on 微信 (WeChat=Facebook). Xiahe deserves better than being a cheap photo opportunity destination.
Economic vs. Spiritual Development: During a hike with Hakan, we revisited the stark difference that Xiahe displays between the Chinese priority of economic development and the Tibetans focus on spiritual development. China’s economic accomplishments over the last 30-40 years are unprecedented and the fact that nearly 600 million people have been pulled out of absolute poverty is astounding. Despite these accomplishments and greater prosperity for Chinese citizens, it is clear that many people, despite being more well off economically, are feeling empty and are compelled to search for something more. On the other hand, many Tibetans in rural areas and harsh environments live in extreme poverty and endure what we might consider a “material suffering,” yet they are often supremely happy and content with their lives because of their faith and spiritual development.
With that said, I found myself pondering what is the optimal level of economic and spiritual development? Does an optimal level even exist or is it entirely context/culturally dependent? What is clear to me though, is that the Tibetan’s centuries long focus on spiritual development is far more sustainable than the breakneck economic growth that the Chinese are promoting. Our environment can support Tibet’s continued spiritual development; I doubt it can support China’s continued economic growth.
Is There Hope for the Future of Xiahe? Leaving Xiahe a few weeks ago, I found myself questioning whether it was selfish of me to want these Tibetan areas to stay the same, unchanged, and in the idealized vision that I formulated in 2012. Who am I to tell Han Chinese travelers that they cannot frequent Labrang Monastery or that my vision for Xiahe’s development is superior to the status quo? Do I merely want Xiahe to stay the same because of the Western views that I hold with regards to preservation of culturally sensitive areas?
I believe that there is hope for the future of Xiahe. The Ganjia grasslands and the surrounding Tibetan communities that we visited are unchanged and exactly as I remember them from 2012. These outside locales that are more difficult to reach and require rugged travel have not yet started to be frequented by the masses of Han Chinese tourists. The environment in these areas has been preserved and the pace of life is as slow as I remembered. Sarah and Parker have both remarked that Lhasa has been –in some ways – ruined by tourism and other development projects. In fact, Lhasa is often referred to as “Little Sichuan” by many Han migrants and some visitors often remark how much is it beginning to resemble other Chinese mega-cities. I wonder if the preservation of the Ganjia grasslands and other oases of pure Tibetan culture will be saved at the cost of sacrificing cities like Lhasa and Xiahe to Han Chinese and Communist Party inspired development models. In the end, I hope that Tibetans are afforded a voice in the development of their communities and holy lands. They deserve it…
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July 31st, 2015 – Climate Change’s Impact on Tibetan Nomads
Our journey recently found us transitioning from the relative comforts of an agricultural Tibetan homestay to that of a nomadic Tibetan homestay. Reaching the nomad’s summer encampment required a lung burning and air sucking hike to their location at close to 4,000 meters in elevation. The welcoming atmosphere, cheerful smiles, and caring warmth remained the same amongst the Tibetan nomads, however, the livelihoods that sustain nomadic people has little in common with the Tibetan families that comprised our village homestay. These differences provided a unique perspective with regards to human dependence on the environment and the uncertain future that these people face.
I take pride in being an environmental steward and strive to limit my impact upon the environment. Whenever I travel to new places I always seek to understand the locals relationship with their environment and any problems that confront the region. Usually I am the one asking prying questions to determine whether issues of environmental degradation are being addressed, but before I could inquire into what these nomads are doing to preserve their environment, our guide pointed out a sign that displayed a local environmental protection organization’s rules and regulations for traveling on the grasslands.
Our guide discussed at length how in the Qinghai Lake region climate change is already having a significant impact on the local environment. The number of rivers that feed into Qinghai lake have decreased from 49 in 2012 to less than 40 in 2015, with many of the remaining rivers under stress from development and erratic water levels. In addition, climate change is degrading the quality of the grasslands. The guide commented that more land is now required to support the same amount or fewer yak and sheep because of the grasslands rapid degradation.
Tibetan nomads are keenly aware of any changes in their environment. The nomad’s dependence on their flocks of sheep and yak require them to be cognizant of grassland conditions, as the quality of these grasslands directly influences the amount of animals that each family can maintain. In order to ensure the sustainable use of the grasslands Tibetan environmental organizations are forming in an effort to protect their environment in the face of a changing climate. These organizations are comprised of members from the local area that are in charge of monitoring and evaluating environmental conditions, and when necessary, enforcing the agreed upon rules within the community.
Sadly, the efforts of Tibetan nomadic communities and their environmental organizations to protect their grasslands and livelihoods is undermined by Chinese government policy. The Chinese government is in the final stages of a 15-year campaign to settle millions of pastoralists and nomads. This massive experiment in social engineering is based partly on the official view that grazing harms grasslands, yet most ecologists believe that the scientific foundations of nomad resettlement for the sake of grassland protection are dubious. I am of the opinion that this policy is a sad excuse to resettle and gain greater control over people who the communist party views as backwards barbarians and are enacting this policy with environmental protection as their means. The grazing of animals on the Tibetan plateau has been occurring sustainably for thousands of years, but now, according to the communist party this practice suddenly threatens the source off the Mekong, Yellow, and Yangtze rivers. This claim by the communist party, among many others, screams of hypocrisy.
If measured by the accumulation of material possessions, these resettled nomads could be considered better off, but when looked at in any other respect the reality is much different. Government-built relocation centers are notorious for their chronic unemployment/underemployment, alcoholism, and the fraying of ancient traditions. Relocations are often accomplished through coercion, leaving former nomads stranded in grim, isolated locales. Protests by displaced herders occur almost weekly, which prompts increasingly harsh crackdowns by security forces that contribute to the rising number of Tibetans that find themselves unjustly incarcerated.
Looking over the pristine beauty of Qinghai lake, I said goodbye to my host father and found myself wondering for how many more years his family will maintain their nomadic lifestyle. I truly cherished the unique experience of being able to experience a way of life that may cease to exist within my life span. I will never forget my host father leading Parker, Sonjay, and myself out to our “sheep guarding” tent to protect the flock against wolves and then the laughter that ensued after our host father vigorously tucked us in under a pile of blankets. The memory of my host father’s smile while explaining the cancer healing benefits of tsampa (a combination of roasted barley flour, butter, dried cheese, and sugar) will forever hold a special place in my memory.
What I struggle to imagine though, is the anger that my host father will one day feel as he reflects on the loss of his independence. I fear that the demands of a cash economy and the belief that his family was displaced with false assurances will be too much for him to cope with. For centuries Tibetan nomads have managed to avoid a tragedy of the commons scenario and live a life of minimal environmental impact because of their deep connection with and respect for the land. The current tragedy is not of the commons, but that the communist party is managing to wipe out entire indigenous populations within the span of a few years…
Profiles of the Orient: Peace Corps China, Post Grad Pursuits, and Beyond... 