XVII. Nag-chu-ka
George Roerich — Trails to the Inmost Asia
Sharugön, January 4, 1928. A cold night, the thermometer at -30° C. Toward morning the cold became still more intense, and we shivered under the canvas of our summer tents. At about half-past seven the sun appeared from behind the mountain opposite our camp and relieved us a little. The day promised to be sunny. We took our usual walk in the morning along the bank of the frozen river and noticed lammergeyers sitting on the rocks about the monastery, as if expecting some prey and indeed, toward evening one of the local guardsmen brought the news that the Major's wife had died that morning. "Sir," he said, "the Major has been oppressing the poor people of the place and did much harm to Your Honor and therefore the protecting gods of the monastery punished him." Several days before I had told the Major that pneumonia could not be cured at such an altitude and in such dreadful conditions.
Rumors were current that the Joint-Governors of Nag-chu on arrival at Tsom-ra had again returned to Nag-chu. A local headman, a short man with a sly face and quiet manners, came to see me in my tent and repeated the usual local grievances. He told me that the region had been taken over by the Government of Lhasa some twelve years ago. "Under Chinese rule we lived much more happily," said the headman, "but now are suffering from heavy taxes levied by the Tibetans, who reduced our people to utter poverty. Do not believe the Tibetans. Since the time we became Tibetan mi-ser (peasants or subjects) four chyi-chyab or High Commissioners changed, but we did not see any justice from them." Our conversation was interrupted by a soldier from the Major who came to tell us that the Joint-Governors of Nag-chu were due to arrive the next day.
Everybody rejoiced, seeing in this the probable end of our detention. The local people were particularly pleased as they were tired of serving us and the Major and his soldiers. In the evening, when the moon rose above the rocks, the new guards sang the Kesar saga and accompanied their song by a weird dance. "Today Kesar's horse arrived, today the sun will rise, on the glacier the lion will walk about," sang the Hor-pas, – a passage from the song about the war of Kesar against the King of Hor. Their shrill voices rose high in the solitude of the night. In singing the Kesar song they wished us good luck on our way to far distant India. Their song was abruptly stopped by a Kham-pa. "Do not sing so loudly," said the man, "otherwise the Tibetans in the monastery will hear you and will be angry with you." The song stopped abruptly and the audience dispersed, each going to his tent. We stayed outside for some time, speaking of the strange fascination that the Kesar saga has on these simple-minded nomads. We slept little that night. The Major ordered the camp for the Governors to be erected during the night, and there was a continuous going and coming the whole night. Next morning at about ten o'clock two Tibetans arrived: the do-nyer, or representative, accompanied by the cook of the Governor. They were dressed in the usual Tibetan style, with enormous fur caps, and carried ga-u or incantation boxes. They had Russian rifles adorned by khatags and multicolored flags.
About noon a general commotion announced the arrival of the Joint-Governors, who proceeded at once to their tents. An hour later the Governors sent a message, informing us of their visit. We all assembled in the dining tent. The Governors came in procession, followed by a number of retainers, who carried presents for us—two bags of barley for one hundred animals, tsam-pa and tea of very inferior quality! The Nag-chu khan-po was a middle-sized man of about sixty, dressed in the usual red and purple lama dress. He was considered a very able diplomat in Tibet, and was known under the name of Gomang garpön. In his youth he entered the Gomang da-tshang of the Dre-pung Monastery, but left the monastery for China, where he led an errant life, visiting different parts of China, Mongolia, and even Siberia. Afterward he spent five years in government service in Peking, where he met Rockhill, and seven years as Tibetan trade agent at Sining in the Kansu Province. He possessed a very fluent knowledge of Chinese and some knowledge of Mongolian. He was a square-jawed gentleman, and had the reputation of being extremely arrogant and difficult to deal with. He wore black Chinese spectacles, trying apparently to intimidate us by his ferocious appearance.
According to his own words, he had been living in retirement for several years at Lhasa, when the most lofty Government of the Holy Protector, fearing a Chinese advance from Kansu, appointed him, the faithful servant and diplomat of the Government, possessing detailed knowledge of "eight great countries," to the Governorship of Nag-chu-ka. Notwithstanding his being married, the Dalai Lama himself conferred upon him the rank of tse-drung, given usually only to celibate monks.
His colleague, the Civil Governor or nang-so, was no less distinguished in the government service. He was an elderly gentleman, wrinkled in the service of his Government. He appeared before us attired in a dress of Chinese yellow brocade, and a Manchu hat. His name was Gong-kar, and his son had studied military science in India with a Gurkha battalion. The Governor spent most of his life in different dzong-khas or provincial districts in Tibet. When Tibet was fighting the Chinese, he mobilized troops in Nam-ru. In 1918 he was attached to the Teichman Mission in Kham, and saw some service under the Kalön Lama, the Tibetan Commander in Chief during the Sino-Tibetan war of 1917-18. Before his coming to Nag-chu, he had been dzong-pön or governor in Kong-po, where he had met Colonel Bailey and Captain Morshead. From this list of their distinctions we could be sure that we had to do with experienced diplomats, fully trusted by their Government.
On learning of the objects of the expedition, the khan-po exclaimed that he was very pleased to hear all this, but since Tibet is a religious country, unconcerned with affairs of the outside world, the Government of the country does not permit foreigners to visit Tibet proper. We pointed out to him that they had admitted foreigners in 1904 and that there was a British detachment stationed at Gyangste. The Governor only smiled and assured us that all British subjects had been driven away from Gyangste, and that he never heard of British troops in that place. We asked him for permission to send a wire from Lhasa to Sikkim, but the Governor insisted that there was no wire communication between Lhasa and India. "When Minister Bell negotiated the treaty, there was a need of telegraphic communication, but now since the treaty has been concluded, the telegraphic line has been broken down. The British did not keep their promises and did not teach the Tibetans how to make gunpowder."
The Governor further informed us that his government does not permit British, Russian, Chinese, and Japanese subjects to enter Tibet proper, that is the Ü and Tsang Provinces, and although there is no such provision against Americans in existing treaties, to which Tibet was a signatory power, they could not allow us to proceed because the British, Russians, and Japanese would take advantage of this precedent and penetrate into the country. The Joint-Governors told us that the usual way of dealing with foreign subjects arriving at the Nag-chu border was to send them back either to Sining or to Ladak, but in our case the authorities were ready to consider our demand to let us cross Tibet to India. The khan-po added that according to instructions received from Lhasa, he and his colleague would give us caravan animals to replace ours, and supplies as far as the frontier of India.
In replying we informed the Joint-Governors, that treaty provisions could not be applied to us in any case, as we were no intruders and were in possession of an official passport delivered to us by the Tibetan representative in Mongolia. We insisted that we be allowed to visit Gyangste, in order to confer with the British Trade Agent stationed there, and mentioned that many foreign subjects had lately visited the Tibetan capital, especially General Pereira, who crossed Tibet in 1922 to India. The Joint-Governors declared all this to be lies, for according to them no such person as General Pereira ever existed! They again and again referred to the general rule, that foreigners were not allowed to enter inner Tibet (Pö-nang) but were free to travel in outer Tibet (Pö-chyi) comprising all the provinces east of Chamdo, and the Province of Thö-nga-ri kor-sum in the west. We continued to insist that we be allowed to cross to India by the shortest route, if necessary avoiding Lhasa, Shigatse and Gyangste. The Tibetans asked us to show them our proposed route on the map. We proposed the route across the Dam La Pass, which crosses the territory of inner Tibet between Lhasa and Shigatse, and then joins the Treaty Trade Route Lhasa-India at Phari dzong.
This route had the great advantage of being much shorter than any of the circuit routes, only some twenty days by pack to Phari dzong and it crossed rural districts of Tibet, where supplies could be easily obtained. We again reminded the Joint-Governors that we were no intruders, and possessed passports granted by the Tibetan representative in Mongolia. "Why do you pay so much attention to a piece of writing given by this miserable beggar?" exclaimed the khan-po. He was losing his temper and the servants standing by impudently laughed into the sleeves of their fur coats. We continued to insist on our point and advised the khan-po that if the Tibetan Government did not recognize its official representative in Urga, it should immediately notify the Chinese and Mongolian Governments of the fact. The Governors rose in tumult and declared that they had to go and draft a new letter to Lhasa about us. We accompanied the Governors outside the tent, and they at once retired to their camp. Clouds gathered toward evening, indicating a probable change in atmospheric conditions.
Snow fell during the night and a strong southwest wind violently shook our tents. The day was miserable and the gale continued till about midnight. The Governors came again to see us. We could not be allowed to proceed by the Dam La past Gyangste, but their government was ready to arrange for our passage to Sikkim via Nam-ru, Nag-tshang and Saga dzong. The whole journey would take only one month, for Saga dzong is only six days from the Sikkim frontier! Poor Governors, did they try to deceive us, or was their knowledge of their own country so deficient? Nothing was to be done and we had to agree but asked that we should be allowed to cross the Trans-Himalayas into the Tsang Province south of Nag-tshang. The Joint-Governors promised to transmit our request to the Government. The khan-po asked us to come and visit him, as he would like to have the list of supplies required by the expedition on its way to India. Three men would start at once for Lhasa to buy them.
At five o'clock in the afternoon we paid a return visit to the khan-po. The Governor had his temporary headquarters in an ordinary ba-nag or black nomad tent. We found him squatting on a low seat near the fireplace. The tent pole in front of him was literally covered with firearms—several Russian cavalry rifles and German Mauser automatic pistols, rendered harmless by excessive silver ornamentation. We again tried to persuade the Governor to send our wires to Lhasa for further transmission to New York and to Colonel Bailey, British Political Officer in Sikkim. The Governor again refused to send the wires as the line between Lhasa and Gyangste had recently been damaged and all British troops withdrawn from Gyangste and Chumbi Valley, which was now under full Tibetan control. We told the Governor that we were rather surprised at this change in the attitude of the Tibetan Government toward the British and asked him to explain the situation. The answer was quite unexpected. The Governor accused the British of introducing Bolshevism into the Tibetan army!
Having settled the question of supplies, we returned to camp. The wind was howling, driving sand and wet snow into our faces. Next morning the Governors left for Nag-chu and we began our preparations for departure. We were now allowed to proceed to Nag-chu and the local headmen left Sharugön to collect yaks and horses for us.
