Over those few days of Sirmo's visit, the tribe were in the middle of a summer picnic. A huge white tent had been erected in the middle of the encampment and all day they played and ate and danced. There were water fights and everyone was thrown into the stream. Everyone except Sirmo and me, of course: we were forced to be more restrained. Although we were permitted to enter the communal tent, since it had no harmful spirits, we were instructed by Annay not to eat anything. We sat quietly together holding hands, as the rest of the tribe rioted in traditional fashion. We compared stomachs and appetites and moaned about our tiredness. It was touching to be able to share the intimacies of our changing bodies. Even Ama-lo-lun, who had fully recovered from her illness, joined the party and teased the young men, waving her stick at them and challenging them to throw her in the water. The crazy atmosphere reminded me of our last Christmas.
Before we left Annay took me walking in the grassland. Tsedup had told me it was something to do with the baby and we would be going as far as the boundary fence, so I was curious as I set off with her. She led me through the grass carrying a bucket containing tsampa. At first she didn't seem to know where she was going and changed direction several times. I followed her, still oblivious to our task. We left the gush of the waterfall behind us, moving silently through the rough grasses and the last few blue flowers of late summer. All I could hear was the rustle of the grass around our shins and the breath of the wind. Annay began sprinkling tsampa about her on the ground and muttering, ' Om mani padme hum,' as we headed for the railway arches, far away from the tribe. I still had no idea what we were supposed to be doing, until I stumbled over a mound on the ground. 'Well done. You've found one!' cried Annay. It was a small raised tuft of earth that looked like the offering site outside the tent. I thought perhaps Annay might start to burn offerings on it as I had seen Amnye do, but instead, she stamped the ground and sprinkled some tsampa on top of the mound. Suddenly hundreds of ants appeared and I realised that we had come to feed them. We were giving back to the earth and the tiniest of sentient beings for the sake of my son. Tt will be good for him,' said Annay.
We wandered deeper into fresh purple- and rose-tinted grasses. The yaks had not grazed this far and the flowers there were still blossoming yellow and blue. At each ants' nest we stopped to feed them, prayed and moved on. Then we reached the fence. But Annay was not deterred by the barbed-wire confines of her homeland. She urged me to lift it, then crawled underneath. I couldn't follow her because of my stomach, but I handed her the pail and watched her wander further into the wilderness, sprinkling around in the fuchsia flora. She seemed so beautiful at that moment. It was not in the awkwardness of her laboured gait, her loose grey hair or her soiled clothes; I was deeply humbled by the beauty of her spirit. Breathing in the fragrant air and blinded by the dazzling sun, I scanned the vast panorama of my Tibetan home: the mountains, the river, the grassland, the tribe. 'All this is for you, our son,' I said. 'All this is for you.'
It was still hard to leave after the six weeks, but somehow Tibet did not seem as inaccessible as it had. It was now part of our lives. We planned to build a house and come back each year. Tsedup and I would witness great changes in the lives of the nomads in our visits to come: those of Tsedup's generation had fewer children, less land, fewer livestock than their ancestors. Now some of the children were going to school and a few of their parents even had mobile phones. Only their unfaltering spirituality would stem the tide of modernisation. It was at the heart of the nomads and would be passed from father to son for ever. Tsedup and I would watch the children grow. They were the future.
A few weeks after we had gone, Sirmo gave birth to a son. He was named Tsering Dhondup. Then, in the winter, our own son was born. Tsedup stayed for the birth along with my mother. It was not the custom for a nomad man, but somehow he defied one of the greatest taboos of his culture to be by my side. I hadn't demanded it. I soon forgot the pain, but I would never forget his tears falling on me.
Our boy, Gonbochab, is the bridge between our two worlds. We hope he will inherit the best of both, for he is loved in the East and in the West. Sometimes I stand with him at the kitchen window and we look out beyond the small yard and the fence and the backs of other people's houses. We look up at the sky and the planes flying east. I rock him gently and tell him that one day we'll take him to his other home.
One day soon.
Glossary
ajay – aunty
arro – Hello
Bardo – the intermediate state between death and rebirth
Bodhisattva – a spiritual incarnate or emanation of Buddha, who cares for all sentient beings
Bon, Bonpo – indigenous shamanic tradition of Tibet and its practitioners
Bourgea – traditional Tibetan hat made from silk and lined with fur
Chadmay – leather belt worn by nomad women, decorated with coral or turquoise and silver discs
Chenrezik – the bodhisattva of compassion
Cho demo – How are you?
Chorten – religious monument of brick or stone, consisting of a dome, a box, a spire and a plinth
Chuba – traditional Lhasa-style pinafore dress
Chukgor – steel weight attached to a long leather thong which is used by the nomads to defend themselves against dogs
dalin – saddle-bag
darchok – prayer flags
djoma – small brown beans dug from the earth
djomdi – a dish of boiled brown beans, rice, sugar and melted butter
dobshair – woven hanging used to cover up the items stored at the back of the tent – sometimes embellished with coloured ribbon and bells
dro – female yak
gamtuk – wooden box containing tsampa, butter and cheese
garchot – non-blood offering
gorji – headband of amber stones worn by pubescent girls
hdir – 'treasure' – offerings to the earth, contained in colourful cloth bags
hornig – the nomads' dating game: young men travel miles at night on horseback or yak to seek out young girls in their tents
jib – fireplace, the heart of the nomad tent, made from turf and clay
jo – wheat husks
kabshat or lazjhee – mountain love songs traditionally sung across the valleys by young boys and girls
kacher – long sheep's hair
kadak – white silk stole representing the purity of the Tibetan heart (sometimes referred to as 'prayer scarf')