Nangsa Obum and I
By Dawadrolma (Britney)
Dawadrolma is from Tianzhu County, Gansu Province, China. She is currently pursuing an Associated degree in English from Qinghai Normal University Nationalities Department's English Training Program.
"When the sun stops shining I will stop desiring to practice the Dharma, and stay at home. If the sun keeps going, I will go also, to the Dharma. If the moon stops waxing and waning, I will stay at home. But if it continues to wax and wane, I will go to the Dharma. If the lotus flower stops blooming in the summer, and dying in the winter, I will stay at home and not practice the Dharma. But if it continues, I will not stay at home, I will go to practice the Dharma…”----Nangsa Obum, the Biography of Nangsa Obum.
Nangsa Obum lived the life of an ordinary woman: she got married, had a child, and dealt with her in-laws. She did not ask for this life, rather it was thrust upon her by her family and society. But despite of all the obstacles in her path, she did not give up her goal—to practice the Dharma. She was determined. She knew what she wanted. After a life of struggle, she reached her goal---practicing the Dharma and becoming enlightened. Like Nangsa Obum, my life has been a steeplechase that has presented me with challenges from the day I was born. And like Nangsa, I know what I want and refuse to give it up. The obstacles that I have faced have not stopped me, but instead have deepened my determination to become educated.
Background: poor village, rich family
The first thing that I learned from my life experiences is the importance of freedom for every human being. I am from a remote Tibetan village in Gansu Province, in the west of China. Mountains with large forests surround this village of more than 60 households composed of Tibetans, Mongghul, and Han Chinese. Most people make their living raising wheat, barley, and corn, and a few people also herd yaks, cows, sheep, and goats to augment their agricultural income. The farmers do not have enough land, and the land that they do have is usually infertile. Many people face extreme poverty and starvation due to their limited harvest and income. On an average day, the men of the village can be seen sitting on the steps of the villages monastery, watching the old women circumambulating, waiting for the sun to set. They have nothing else to do—there is no construction work or any jobs that can give them extra income.
Before I was born, my family did not suffer from this kind of poverty. My father owned a small gold mine, and he was one of the richest and most well respected men in the village. My mother, a quiet and hardworking woman, used to watch him walk to work carrying an exquisite suitcase full of money. Our house was built in the latest Tibetan style: the columns were painted red and there were five white rooms, enough for everyone in my family to have their own. While most of the villagers ate on the tables made of stones and soil, each room in my family's home was furnished with finely crafted wooden tables and chairs. While his playmates were barefooted, my older brother had enough clothes to change outfits almost everyday. When reminiscing about his childhood, my brother has told me that life was quite comfortable.
Unlucky birth
But misfortune came with my arrival. Two days before my birth on August 1st, 1986, my father's small gold mine collapsed. To make matters worse, my family already had three children (One boy and two girls) and was expecting me to be another boy. When the mine collapsed, some workers were buried and killed. In the chaos, two workers stole my father's money and ran away. The worker's families came to our house for restitution of their dead and the workers who had survived came for their salaries. Our household crumbled under the pressure of angry mobs cursing threats at my father.
My father did not have money to pay them, so our grain, livestock, and furniture was all either sold or taken away, until there was almost nothing left. We had no food, and my older brothers and sisters fought over bread like cats and dogs. The entire family had to sleep together on one small bed made of mud and stones, and there were no blankets to cover us. My mother could not stand the loss and fell sick after giving birth to me. After so much worry and malnutrition, she had no milk to breast-feed me. I grew very thin and wailed day and night for food.
Father's decision, grandmother's intervention
Such difficulties can make people lose their minds. Seeing me, an extraordinarily thin creature who screamed all day long, my father decided to cast me off. My mother had no objection, for the empty house had no space for my eating bowl. My parents decided to give me to a rich family who had only one son and wanted a daughter. They promised that they would take good care of me and send me to college later on. My parents were happy to give me to a rich family, because they knew that it was much better than leaving me on the river bank, like many people did with their unwanted baby girls.
But the idea enraged my grandmother, who was staying at our home to take care of my mother after my birth. She told my parents that their decision was inhumane and volunteered to take care of me by herself. I was saved!
Although my grandmother was also poor, she treated me like her treasure. She forced her hens to lay eggs so that she could trade them for powdered-milk to feed me. I grew healthier and stronger under my grandmother's care, but this happy life only lasted until I was five years old.
My new family
It was a bright morning. My grandmother combed my hair into two little braids and gave me powdered-milk for breakfast. I was playing happily with my uncle's small pet dog when it suddenly turned towards the door and began to bark. I also turned toward the door, and saw my father enter smiling, carrying the morning sun on his back. He greeted me warmly and asked where my grandma was. “Please wait here, Uncle. I will find her.” I said hospitably, and went to tell my grandma that my “Uncle” had come. She put down the stick that she was using to stir the pig's food and came with me immediately. They exchanged greetings and talked for a while until my father said that he had to leave and wanted to take me with him.
“Why? Am I not treating her well?” asked my grandmother, sounding angry
“No, that's not what I mean. We think she has been a burden for you, and we can take care of her now” explained my father.
I looked at my “Uncle” and my grandma, not knowing what was happening.
“Why do you want to take her? It is not reasonable! Do you want her to go to school? We can send her!” said my grandma.
“No, mother. You just let her go. We don't have time to argue. Dawa, come with me!” my father grabbed me. I held my grandma 's hand tightly, and begged him to release me, but he put me under his right arm and headed towards his house.
“Dawa, maybe your mother and your sisters miss you. You go with your father. I will send your uncle for you tomorrow, ok? My good girl, go with your father , ” said my grandma innocently.
I screamed as loud as I could, hoping my grandma would come for me. She did, but she just stood in front of the gate, like a statue, watching me vanish from her eyes.
As soon as we arrived back at my parents' house, I was put into a jeep beside a well-dressed woman. My mother and my two older sisters asked me to call her Aunt. Still choking with sobs, I wiped my eyes with my wet sleeve and looked at the woman next to me. She was wearing a loose white sweater that barely covered her waist. Her hair was quite long, reaching her upper thigh, and her bangs were made into small curls like the petals of a flower. Her cherry-red mouth reminded me of the cannibals that my grandma told me stories about when I refused to go to sleep. She was wearing leather pants; and her white teeth shined brilliantly through her exaggerated smile. She put me on her lap and asked me many questions that I did not bother to answer. Soon the jeep started moving and as I looked through the glass, I saw my family wiping their eyes with their sleeves. My new aunt sang songs to me and I was soon in a deep asleep after such a struggle.
“Dawa, wake up!” said my “aunt” in a shrill voice. I jumped up, wiped my eyes, and looked around. I had no idea where I was. “This village is really strange” I thought to myself “the houses all point toward the sky and there is no dust on the roads. They seem so smooth enough to skate on!” “We are home! Let's go!” My “aunt's” voice brought me to reality.
“Home? My home is…there! Oh, no, over there!” I said, confused, as I tried to point in the direction of my grandmother's house. “Come! I will bathe you before your uncle and your older brother come” she said, and urged me to follow her. I soon realized that I had arrived at the place that would be my new home, with the same family that my parents had wanted to give me to five years earlier. My father did not tell my grandma that he was giving me away, because he knew that she would worry. But both he and my mother thought that I would have a better future living with this new family.
At first, I was happy to be there. I had never seen a house like this one. The floor was like ice, so clean and smooth. And I had never before seen such delicate furniture: there were leather sofas scattered around the sitting room, all surrounding a big TV. The walls were made of a soft yellow wood and every few minutes I encountered objects that I had never seen before.
That day, my aunt gave me the third bath that I had ever had in my life. The small baby tub where I laid was full of fragrance that came from the baby soap. I felt the water lifting me up and my whole body seemed weightless. After my bath, I was given many kinds of food that I had never eaten before. Soon my new uncle and brother came and greeted me with warmth and curiosity. We were all very happy, eating exotic food that my uncle had bought for the occasion. I soon forgot my bitter departure from my grandmother and my parents, and became determined to have a good time with my new family.
But these warm feelings didn't last long. My new older brother soon told me that I was just a parasite under their roof. He was 13, much older than me, and he wasted little time in using his strength and authority to bully me. His every action was filled with disdain for me. When his parents were away , I had to mop the ice floor again and again until he got tired of watching me; He bruised my arm with hard pinches, and cut my long hair because he said it looked backwards. He said that I stank and threw away all of the clothes that I brought with me. He invited all of his friends to his home to watch him torment me, and worst of all, he lied to his parents that I was bad and convinced them to scold and beat me.
One day, after one month of living at my new home, I was wiping the tables in the kitchen when he came in, with a mouth full of cake. “Dawa, you are working really hard today, and I decided to take you out to play. What do you think?” he surprised me. I dared not to say that I was really dying to play. I had been working so hard at my new home that I hadn't had any time to act like a child while I was there. He said that I could come with him to fish. I was overjoyed, and sprinted out of the kitchen to change my clothes. He took my hand and led me to a small river. He ordered me to hold his fishing rod and started preparing. I was very curious and watched him with curious eyes. After several minutes spent concentrating on fishing, he suddenly asked me if I felt hungry . I was not hungry, but the when he mentioned ice cream my stomach rejoiced and I nodded my head. He gave me one Yuan and pointed me in the direction of the store.
After I bought two ice creams, retraced my steps back to the small river. But my older brother was nowhere to be seen. I thought that I might have gone to the wrong place, so I walked around until I saw the fish bait that he had left behind. I called his name many times but there was no response. “He has probably gone to get something, I will just wait for him , ” I thought to myself. I sat on the ground, and licked my ice cream as I waited for his return. I ate it as slowly as I possibly could. I waited and waited until mine was finished and his was melted, he still did not come. The sun had nearly set behind the tall buildings in the west. My stomach started complaining as I watched people pass by.
I began to shake when an appalling thought popped into my mind—he had abandoned me! I decided to find the way home myself but soon got completely lost. I wandered around the streets until it was so dark that the lights came on, and I felt terrified. Luckily, I saw one of my uncle's friends riding by on his bike, and he brought me home. When I arrived, I saw all of my uncle and aunt's friends sitting around them. They began scolding me as soon as I walked through the door. I did not know what I had done wrong.
“Pa!” my right cheek began to burn after my uncle slapped it. “Father, beat that evil girl! I tried to stop her but she pushed me away and said that she wanted to leave this place” yelled my older brother from the corner of the house, sounding innocent. Now I understood. He had planned the whole thing. He had started this scene to embarrass and punish me. My heart trembled, as I looked his way. “You cruel person! You told…” I collected all my bravery to defend myself, but before I could finish speaking my aunt, dragged me into a bedroom and shut the door behind me. I went to bed early and no one came to bother me. I lay in bed with my eyes open for the whole night.
While I lay there, I remembered my grandma, my pet dog, and even my parents and sisters. I suddenly realized that I had not thought about them for a long time. I wondered what they were doing, and tears poured down my cheeks. I looked around the room where I was laying—it was so strange to me. In my head, I recounted the stories that my grandma had told me. The yellow cow and the old granny, the father and his three daughters, the Amqao and the goat… How much I missed my grandma! “I will go and find her tomorrow. She must be waiting for me. She said that she would send my uncle for me” I told myself. Thinking about the sweet times that I had with my grandma, and comparing those to the life that I was weathering now, I felt something inside calling me to act, to find a life where I was appreciated as a human being.
The escape
So next day, I really escaped, after the family went shopping. After a year and a half of playing Jane Eyre, I took my own freedom. I ran as fast as I could away from my new house and soon got lost in the township. As I walked aimlessly around the central square, trying to figure out what to do, I saw a man I knew was from my grandma's village. I asked him to take me back with him, and in the beginning, he refused, saying that he was busy. I followed him everywhere he went and ultimately, he decided to take me. He dropped me off at my parents' front gate and left without turning back. I knew what was waiting for me—a scolding, and a beating. But I did not hesitate; because I knew that I had made the right decision. I walked through the gate with my head held high and called out for my mother and father.
My parents decided to keep me, because my “uncle” and “aunt” did not want me any more. They said that an evil girl like me would bring disgrace to them some day. I have been considered a bad girl ever since, but I have never regretted what I did, because I knew what it was like to lack the freedom to be yourself. I knew that no matter what the consequences may be, relying on myself was the only way to survive.
My parents put me in the village primary school when I turned seven. My family didn't have high expectations in me, because their attention was focused on my younger sister. Like any family, they gave me what I needed for school, but they never asked whether I did my homework, or how my grades were going. I wanted them to notice me, but I didn't know how to make it happen. I heard them praise my cousin who was good at studying; saying that she was a really good girl because she got high marks. When I heard that, I decided to be a good student so that they would like me more. This decision pulled me through primary school, where I finished with the highest marks in the township. Soon, I was preparing to go to the middle school in the county town.
The girl in red
The first lesson that I have learned in life is the importance of freedom, and the second is the importance of success in school. After graduating from primary school, I insisted on continuing my education. Six years of studying in primary school had changed me from a girl yearning for my parent's attention into a young women thirsting for knowledge. It gave my parents a very difficult time finding the money for my tuition. My parents allowed me to continue attending school, and I appreciated the chance with my whole being. I told myself “You must get good grades to pay your parents grace back! If others can do well, you can too”. When I first arrived at the middle school in the county town, I felt disorientated. Compared with the students from county town, my clothes were pale and worn, and my village dialect sounded funny. My perfect grades were no longer impressive, because the other students had scored much higher at better schools. I wondered if I had come to the right place.
“Hey, you, the girl in red, are you sleeping?” my math teacher demanded of me on our first day of class.
“no” I said as I stood up reluctantly.
“If you are tired, go to your dorm and sleep there! Surely you haven't planned to study here but to enjoy yourself here, right?” he continued.
T he whole class laughed.
I forced my tears back. I had not been sleeping. I was just having a hard time understanding the new dialect. I could not stand such a terrible accusation. “Wait and see” I swore in my heart.
I studied harder than I ever had before. While others were hugging the heaters in their rooms for warmth, I was outside reading under the lights of school's small. While the little forest behind our school was a paradise of romance for some, for me, it was a place to memorize long texts. My grades soared to the top of the class and stayed there. I began to write articles for the school newspaper and soon became the Head Editor. When test day came, I passed the junior middle school graduation exam with the highest marks. I was determined to attend a good high school and prepare myself for college.
Unfortunately, my high grades could not change my family's poverty. My family did not have enough money to put me through high school, and they suggested that I attend a less expensive normal school so that I could one day become a teacher. Just like Nangsa Obum, I could not escape the circumstances that shaped my life, so, with a boiling heart, I relented.
"Long Live 60"
In 2001, I went to Tianzhu Normal School. There were sayings among the students in that school , ‘When you arrived at school, you were square, when you leave, you will be round…Long live 60!” When students said this they meant that when you first entered the school, you were a confident, responsible student. But after being there a while, you would lose your determinat ion and your highest hope would be to receive a 60 on every test. I did not believe the sayings and continued working hard. I continued to have the highest grades in my class. One Friday afternoon, I was representing my class in a math competition when the head teacher called the entire class out and told us to meet him at our former middle school.. We asked why we were going, but he just kept silent along the way.
We were soon put into an empty classroom, and we had no idea what was going on. A man in his 30s came in and said that people had come to choose students to study English in their school, and we had to take exams in order to qualify. Suddenly, a large man with a strange long beard came into the room. I had never seen anyone like him in my life. His eyes were green and his hair was long and brown. At the sight of this foreigner, I felt scared. He began talking to us, but we did not understand a word, becuase he was speaking English. The young man translated: He said that the man's name was Kevin, and that he wanted us to write a Tibetan article for 30 minutes, and a Chinese article for 30 minutes.
I did my best to calm my nerves. As I looked at the test paper I thought to myself that it was just another exam, and there was no need to be nervous about it. I started my article with a peaceful heart. O ne our later, I was chosen along with other 5 students to enter the English Training Program at Qinghai Normal University. So after my stubborn hardworking, “Long-live 60” failed, on me. I could have been like the many of my classmates, waiting for the school-bell to set them free, but the desire for good grades, and a better life urged me to go against the majority.
The bottom of the barrel
I had a very difficult time adjusting to my new school because I did not know any English and I could not understand most of my classmates' Tibetan. The notion of being Tibetan was not that strong in my hometown, or in me, and some of my classmates suspected that I was Chinese.
Although this was difficult, my first desk mate, Caitlyn, helped me adjust. She was very good at English and she did not laugh at me when I could not understand the English and Tibetan teachers. She encouraged me to speak Tibetan with her, which I did and slowly my Tibetan became better. I will remember her kindness for the rest of my life.
When I began in the ETP, I was at the very bottom of the class, and I fought with myself to regain the Dawa Drolma of her parents. Every time when I called my family, I lied and said that I was doing well. I got up at 5 o'clock in the morning to memorize new words and went to bed at 1 o'clock in the evening, after reading the short stories. I got a tutor from another school to teach me Tibetan. After two years, my English and Tibetan improved quickly, I could communicate well.
Although I had done well, the two years' of studying in the ETP was the end of my high school-level education. To become university students, w e have to take an entrance exam. I passed the exam with the highest mark in English.
The end?
However, my family asked me to give up my studies because the tuition was out of their reach. I refused to accept this at the beginning, because I had worked hard for this opportunity and had already begun to plan for my college-educated future. But over the long summer holiday, I came to terms with my family's poverty. I looked at my family's rickety house and the wrinkles on the faces of my aging parents. The walls of the house were blackened with age; and the original color of the mismatched furniture that my uncle had given us could hardly be guessed. My parents' handmade bed was covered with a quilt as old as my 18 years old sister. And my parents, one 60 and the other 61, looked limp from sickness and old age. Seeing this, and thinking about the seven thousand Yuan school fee per year, I trembled. How could it be possible? What about my younger sister who was also attending a college?
After taking all of this in, I told my parents that I had decided to quit school and was happy to find a job. My world was devastated. I swept my family's house relentlessly to pass the time. After making my decision, I decided to write a goodbye letter to teacher Kevin and other foreign teachers who have taught me in the passed two years. I told them that I was unable to come to the school next semester and thanked them for teaching. My hands were shaking as I wrote , because I knew it would be the last time that I would ever be able to call Kevin my teacher. Two days later, I went to check my email and saw my teacher's response. He said it was not a wise decision. He let me to think what was down the road—a child? A husband? A messy house? I trembled as I read. He asked how much money I needed and said he might be able to help. I was overjoyed.
I told my parents, but they were not very happy. They didn't want me to bother my teachers. They asked me to stop communicating with Kevin and forget the whole thing. Although I knew that they had good intentions, I did not follow their advice, because I knew that writing to my teachers had been a good decision . I continued writing to teacher Kevin until one he called me on the phone. He said that I was a special student with special abilities and that if I were not in ETP, the teachers would be very upset, that I would have a more promising future if I continued. He said they were many people willing to donate money for me because they thought I had earned this chance to go to college. In the end, my kind teachers gave enough money to cover all of my tuition for two years.
That was how I am arrived back in the ETP, with my teachers' help and my own determination. I knew that I must not stop where I was, becuase like teacher Kevin said, I knew what was waiting for me if I did--a child, a husband, a messy house—and I knew I could do more than that. So I continued and like Nangsa Obum, never gave up.
I know that studying here is a very precious chance for me, so I work very hard, in order to make my teachers, my parents and myself proud. Besides putting all of my strength on the courses that I am taking, I take other extra classes like Gender, and Ethnography. I used to be very shy and dared not to speak loud in the classroom or argue when my opinion was disregarded because I am female. But taking the Gender class has given me new ideas and new courage to speak up. It was inthis class that I first read the Biography of Nangsa Obum, and realized that even superhuman women have hardships in their lives. But what makes Nangsa special is her determination to reach her goal. I was moved by her unwavering resolve. When I read stories like Nanga Obum's, I feel a powerful ambition growing in me.
I am no longer ashamed of being a female. I speak without hesitation in front of people; I play with boys, I joke with girls, I treat everyone the same. I know that it is important for me to be myself. It might be true that some people are happy with where they are, like some women would be glad to be quiet and shy, but not me. I have found that and determination and ambition are the center of one's existence, without them, you are like an empty Tsampa sack. |
