Little Woman
By Wendedrolma (Wanda)
Wendedrolma is from Yushu Autonomous Tibetan county, Qinghai Province, China. She graduated in 2005 with an Associated degree in English from Qinghai Normal University Nationalities Department's English Training Program.
A little woman
My mom used to call me little woman, and the villagers used to call me little woman too. I was the oldest daughter in my family. I was born in the year of the wood mouse in a little village located under a rocky mountain named Leba, in Yushu County. My brother is two years older than me. He was learning Tibetan with a monk. There was no school in our village and the monk only taught the boys if they wanted to be monks. In my village it seemed the only reason to study was to become a monk. My father was a village leader and he had to travel, so all the family responsibility was loaded on my mother's back. She had to look after my brother, my younger sister and me. She had to herd the yaks and calves; and she also had to do all the household chores. We also had a small shop that she had to take care of. She got up very early in the morning and she went to sleep very late at night. Although I was very young at the time I always wanted to share my mom's workload.
Every day I got up soon after my mom got up. My mom asked, “Why do you get up so early? Go back to sleep.” My mom never believed that I could do something to help her. “Oh! I don't feel like I want to sleep,” I said, and I followed her out. When she went to milk the yaks, I went inside to clean the house and then I took a small pot to fetch water. When I came back my mom was finished milking the yaks, so I insisted on herding the calves. “No, you are not yet able to do so,” my mom explained. I said, “Mom, please I can do it. Just let me do it today.” My mom still did not agree with me. But I persisted and finally my mom had no alternative but to give in. The task of herding calves seemed very easy for me. I drove the calves to the hill beside my home, and then I came back. My mom was quite glad that I had actually done the task successfully. In the evening I had to drive them back home before the female yaks came back. At the dinner table, my brother, my mom, with my younger sister in her arm and me, were all sitting around a small wooden table. My mom gave me a candle and praised me for my work. I felt proud of myself and I wanted to do more for her. I wished she could always be happy like that, though she never complained about anything, and was never in a sad mood.
The next day, I did the same thing. On the way home I saw one of my neighbors whom I used to call aunty carrying a basket on her back and collecting yak dung. I wanted to do the same thing. After I came back I tried mom's basket, but it was too big for me. Therefore, I asked my mom to make a basket for me, and this time she easily agreed. She thought I could at least bring two or three pieces of yak dung each time. From then on I carried that small basket as other women in the village and sometimes when I was free I would go out to collect yak dung.
One day, my mom washed my hair, which I really disliked. Then we sat in the corner of the yard under the warm sunshine. She braided my hair into a hundred pieces. Then she put a small amber bead in the middle of my head and attached it to my hair. She looked at me and said, “Oh! My little woman, you are so cute today.” Yes, from then on my mom would call me “little woman”.
The subsequent days herding calves were not as easy as the first few days. Sometimes I had to race with them on rainy days and at other times I had to search for them on cold snowy days. But I never gave up. I also went out alone to fetch water and collect yak dung. Whenever I met a village woman, she would call me little woman. It seemed that was my name. Yet I did not know why they would call me little woman or what it meant. I went home. My mother was separating the butter from the milk.
Out of my curiosity I asked my mom, “Mom, everyone was calling me little woman; what is little woman?”
My mother stopped her work and kneeled down and gently stroked my hair. “You are helping mom and you are acting as a grown woman, yet you are so young.”
I was really happy to hear that, though I felt that the name little woman seemed sort of odd; I decided that I liked it. I told my mom and she broke into a laugh.
At night under the dim light of the kerosene lamp, my mom sewed my brother's robe, which he tore during the day when he was playing with another boy. I looked closely at her and I wanted to learn how to do it.
My Student Life
When I was around five years old, my father taught me to write in Tibetan. I never paid much attention to it. My father's purpose was to send me to school. He discussed it with my mother, who refused it as a foolish idea, because sending us to school meant we had to move into town, and we could not herd livestock in town and we had no farmland there. Everyone in the village thought it was a stupid idea to send children to school. They persuaded my father saying, “There is no use to send them to school. Your boy can be a monk and he can learn in the monastery.” “Don't be foolish, soon they will grow up and can labor for the family.” Some of the relatives said in a concerned voice, “How could you possibly survive in the town, you have nothing there.” My mom never wanted to go the town, but my father finally convinced her.
It was soon after the Tibetan New year. Lots of relatives came to my home. They loaded everything in the house on the backs of horses and yaks. Some of our relatives also went with us. As we drove away, they prayed for a good journey and a good life. In the afternoon, we came to a big river, where a big truck was waiting for us. I had never seen a truck before. I was amazed by the sight of this giant machine. They loaded everything into the truck. Then one of our relatives drove the yaks and horses away. Others went with us to the town. Later I learned that father gave away our farmland to our relatives and grandmother was helping us to take care of the family livestock.
I came from a place where we had no electricity and no vehicles. Town was a place that existed only in my imagination. As our gurgling truck jittered through the town, this world of myth became a reality. The first thing that caught my attention was a large three-floored building. I have never seen a building like that before, and I couldn't imagine how they had managed to pile one floor on top of another like that, without the whole thing toppling over. In the slick paved street, lots of people were gathered together; moving about like ants. They were all dressed so beautifully that I thought there must be some sort of festival taking place, but I later learned that it was just another ordinary day in town. I had entered a new world; a sense of strangeness permeated everything. After a while I got used to the hustle and bustle of the town, and that year, in August, I was sent to school with my brother.
My brother was the best student in our class. He was always the first one to go home. In our class the teacher always let the best student go home ten minutes earlier than other students. He was always very proud, but he would wait for me. After school, we went home together.
In winter, after every class we played a game called Tobpoh. We tore out a small piece of sheepskin with wool on it. We left the wooly part and sewed another piece of bald skin on the other side of the skin and attached a small stone between the two skins. We threw the stone into the air and kicked it with our foot. We divided into two groups. We decided that the looser had to carry us around the classroom one time. As I was playing, one of the boys in our class bumped into me and I fell down. I cried desperately. My Tibetan teacher saw me. He asked, “What happened?” I looked at the boy, I knew he did not deliberately bump into me, and I also knew if I told the teacher now, then later he would really beat me up since he was the oldest boy in our class. I dared not say anything about him, so I said, “I fell down myself when I was playing.” The teacher checked me to make sure that I was not injured anywhere and then he left.
My father was very strict with my brother and I. Every day we had to do twice as much as the homework assigned by teacher. So slowly I caught up with the others. When I was in grade three I was awarded as one of the best students in our class by the prefecture Education Administration. When I was in grade one there were around 40 students in my class. Though most of them were boys, I enjoyed the class very much and thought it was fun to play with them. When we were about to enter middle school there were only twenty of us left.
In middle school, I could not really catch up with my classmates. I was especially poor in Math. Despite this fact, the Math teacher was very kind to me. He always praised me as a hard worker in front of our class and he taught me in every possible way. I also then developed an interest in Math; at the end of the second semester I got the highest mark in the class.
Those years in middle school, I did my best to study. I was keen on Math; sometimes I stayed up until to 1 a.m. or 2 a.m. just studying math. On the other hand I never gave up on the other subjects. Every morning at five o'clock, my father, who was being very supportive of me, would call me to get up. I would start the day reciting everything that I had to memorize.
In 1999, I graduated with the highest score in our school. I felt deep gratitude towards my Math teacher who had first inspired me on the path of this success.
My Aunty
The huge rocky mountain above our village looks like a giant man, and my village is located right under his knees. People used to say that because our village is located under his knees, he can't see us. Thus, we cannot get any help or protection from him, our mountain god. Therefore, it turned out that my village was very poor. Villagers no longer wanted to stay there. Some of the neighborhood families moved to the main town, Gyegu. Then, I no longer had a lot of friends. I only had one friend left, my neighbor's daughter, who was the same age as me. Her name was Gensong Chobdon
Soon we became very good friends. Every morning, soon after I got up from my bed, I would look around. If there was nobody in the yard, I would secretly run to her home. I would stay there for the whole day. There I became acquainted with her mother, who was a typical traditional woman. She used to wear a black Tibetan robe, hundreds of small braids, with a medium sized amber bead on her head. She never talked much in the family. However, she was a compassionate woman. Every morning, she would make a big bowl of tsamba for my friend and I. Then, she would boil milk for us to drink. When she was free, she would tell us stories and play with us. She became my beloved aunty, even though we were not blood-related.
Then, one day I was playing with Gensong Chobdon in the yard. It was late afternoon, in winter. Suddenly, I heard a loud cry from the room. I was in total panic and surprise. Both of us rushed into the room. The spectacle in front of my eyes was incredible. It made me blackout. The cry from my friend brought me back to reality. She was already lying on her mother who was lying on the ground. Her nose was bleeding. Tears were rushing through her eyes. Standing over her, her husband was enraged, fierce looking, holding a round, one-meter long stick, that we used to make noodles. It was obvious he had beaten her with this stick.
He shouted to his daughter, "Who told you to come here, go out!"
My friend begged, "Apa! Please don't beat mom!"
He was angrier, "Get out of here, both of you!"
Now I realized that he was a little drunk. The smell from his mouth when he spoke and the alcohol smell in the room told me that he had been drinking.
"Get out of here, you hear? Otherwise I will beat you up too!" he shouted furiously.
"You beast! She is your own child! How could you beat her?" said her mother with tears in her eyes.
"Beast, you say I'm a beast?" This time he was angrier than ever. He grabbed my friend and beat her mother with his stick. He hit her on her back, shoulder and leg. I did not dare to say a word. I looked at him with fear. He was ugly. I felt that he was a demon. How could he possibly treat my dear aunty like that? She did everything he asked. Why was he not fulfilled yet? The room was full of cries, and that disgusting smell of alcohol.
I ran home, tears falling from my eyes. I hated that man. The next day, I dared not go to my friend's home. I was afraid of her father and I did not want to see him again. I was playing alone near the river, and my aunty came, carrying a water bucket on her back, walking unsteadily toward the river. I went up to her. I was shocked. She looked more seriously injured than the day before. Her eyes were swollen. Her face was bruised and covered with different colors, green and red. Both of her hands were swollen. She filled her bucket with water. I could do nothing for her except cry. I cried loudly in her warm arms. She didn't say anything, stroking my hair with her large swollen hand, and crying herself. A while later, she walked back home unsteadily, carrying a bucket full of water.
Later that year, a few days before the Lunar festival, I was awoken by yelling outside. It was my friend's voice. Then I heard my parents shut the door and go out. I quickly went to the window and saw the figures of my friend and my parents descend into the darkness. I wondered what had happened. Later I heard from my mom that my aunty had been beaten by her husband again, so she tried to run away from home. Unfortunately, her husband looked for her and caught her that night. He was enraged because she dared to run away. He beat her again. He was really beating her to death when my parents got there. I never dared to imagine how he had beaten my aunty. Blood and cries filled my head every time I recalled it.
Soon after the lunar festival my family moved into town, because my father wanted us to get an education. Before we left the village, my aunty came to my home. She gave me a fist size piece of bread made of wild yams, which was wrapped in a clean washing powder bag. I cried again in her warm arms. This time she did speak.
She said, "Study hard. After you get an education you will never suffer like me. My life is my Karma and everything is settled. But your life is different. The future is not in your hands to see."
Her words are deeply carved into my mind, though I was not able to comprehend those words completely at the time. After that day, I left my village and I never saw her again. I only heard from my father that she is still alive. Her words have never been erased from my mind. Even now, I still hate her husband, that cruel man.
Now, I understand education is really important. And I actually I think it is the best way out for the Tibetans. However I always wonder, is it really her fate to be treated like that?
Life in ETP
It was still little cold outside, though it was already Spring. We heard that some people were coming to elect some students from our school. We also heard that the students who were selected were going to study English. Our head teacher listed the top ten students names and so did the other head teachers. After three various tests, six students were selected and we were informed that we were going to start the class in late August, in Qinghai Normal University.
We started out with A, B, C…. I was full of curiosity toward this language and I really wanted to master it. However, at first, I was not making much progress. Every time I evaluated myself by the scores that I had earned before, and my scores disappointed me. I cared so much about my scores; I studied day and night. Finally I caught up with the other students. In our class the student's English level was quite similar and the class was quite competitive, therefore, it was challenging. You could never lean back and rest, life was busy and stressful.
Teachers were very helpful and they were patient with me. Some of the teachers taught us extra classes in their free time. I was very thankful to them. As time passed the knowledge that was once obscured was slowly revealed to us. We attended sociology and anthropology classes. The world slowly displayed itself in front of us. Later there was a gender class. The first time I attended it out of curiosity, but soon after the first class I found it was really interesting. Also, with the help of a teacher named Michelle I attended a workshop, where I leaned skills for small-scale social development projects
One day, a visitor came to give a lecture in our classroom. She was a professor from Thailand. She lectured about her life story and her experiences. She was such an independent and knowledgeable person. She always believed in her ability. She applied for good universities by herself, and she got a scholarship for her tuition. She was a linguist. She had traveled alone in many Tibetan areas. I had never in my life seen such a woman scholar. So, she had deeply influenced me. It is very important for women to have a woman model; it empowers us on the path of life. I felt I could also do and achieve the same thing. She had showed me a truth, which was that our role as women wouldn't necessarily hinder us. Women are capable of similar things that men are capable of. Then I had a vision to help my nation with my own ability, because I believed that I was actually capable of those things.
In the year of 2005, I graduated from college.
Projects
I grew up in the company of stories about starvation and war. Though I personally did not experience starvation, I could understand the life of starvation since there were so many examples in Tibetan society. My mother used to tell me stories about the time when they were young. When they were young, it was the time of the big famine in Tibet. They could never get enough to eat. They would eat anything that was edible. They would eat all different kinds of grass, as long as they were not poisonous. Therefore, the mission of helping my nation was deeply rooted in my mind. Fortunately, this dream became a reality when I learned English
In the third year of ETP, during the summer vacation, there was a chance for us to practice teaching. The teaching sites were rather remote, in areas with impoverished living conditions. Lots of students, including me, applied for teaching posts and taught diligently for one month. I was deeply impressed by the student's longing for learning and education, but they could rarely get teachers.
In 2004, I managed a solar panel project, which was supported by the Canada Fund. It was to help a monastery with the lighting problem. Historically, there was no light available in the monastery. They used candles and kerosene for lighting. By providing them solar panels we directly helped the monks with lighting problems and indirectly improved their health and living conditions. During the winter vacation I managed a second hand clothes project in an impoverished Tibetan village. Sue Bishop from the British Embassy supported this project. I distributed the second hand clothes to the poorest families in the village.
In 2005, I did another Solar Panel project. It was for some of the poorest households in Buron Village, Yushu County. The place had no electricity and they were very glad that they could use Solar Panels for lighting. Besides that, I also did another second hand clothes project to help those poor people who were wandering at the edge of starvation and cold in Gyegu Town.
As a Tibetan college student, one of the few, I feel like I have a responsibility to help my villagers who are still struggling with harsh living conditions. Thus, in 2005, I designed a potable water project for my village. It was the first project that I designed entirely by myself. The project provided Zarshi Ke villagers with two wells. The purpose of this project was to reduce women's labor in the home, providing them with more leisure time while improving their social status. As a Tibetan woman, we are expected to take all the responsibility of the all the family house chores. The women and the girls in my village have to go very far to fetch the water. The river where they are fetching the water is seriously polluted. Rubbish and waste float on the surface of the water. With this project, the villagers' health as well as women's life security improved. Women now have more chances to go out to work and find jobs as the length of their leisure time has increased. In this way they could achieve better status in society.
I started this project with a beam of hope that was weighed against heavily by the doubts of my villagers. Because I am a woman, the villagers thought that I would not be able to complete the project, and often voiced these doubts to me. However, from the very beginning, I knew that completing the project would not be an easy job, and the thought of giving up never occurred to me. Something rooted in the depth of my heart urged me to continue moving forward. I faced the obstacles that occurred one by one, and as the project progressed steadily, the doubts of the villagers were slowly erased.
In addition to completing these projects, I have been a medical translator twice. All of these experiences are deeply carved into my mind. I have learned a lot about the living conditions in rural Tibetan areas. I have also learned that the voice of women is deeply buried in silence. This silence continues without anyone realizing what has been lost.
As an educated woman, I have the responsibility to speak for other women, to break the silence. This has always been my most ambitious dream. Generally speaking, in Tibetan places the illiteracy rate is quite high. The enrollment of girls in school is very low. Girls are rarely sent to school. Even if they are sent to school they don't attend for very long, and don't receive higher education. Their families withdraw them from school soon after they graduate from primary or middle school. There aren't many Tibetan women in universities. And there are only handful of Tibetan women who study abroad. To study in a high educational institution overseas has been a dream to me. And actually it is the path to my success, to realize my vision.
Therefore in this June, I will go to Philippines to study for M.S in Environmental Studies. After I return, I hope to improve living conditions in Tibetan areas as an educator and environmentalist. I believe that helping Tibetan people, and especially Tibetan women, will begin with improving the environment that we depend on.
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