Trial by Fire - (Part 1) Fire

When a woman in Tibet self-immolates two witnesses face a dangerous dilemma.

Tibetan women, Lithang Horse Festival  (Photo: M. Griffiths)

 

Trial by Fire

 

Part 1 – Fire

 

********  31 July, pm  ********

 

“It’s not our fight mate. Just enjoy the festival, watch the horse races and bug out in a couple of days like everyone else. Leave them to it.”  Toby’s English accent rose over the noise of the crowded, smoky bar. “Ok, it’s my round, you guys want another beer? Liz, you want another?”

“Yeah, ta.” said Liz smiling at him as he turned and headed off to the bar, his tall, blond physique standing out among the locals.

“I take it modern Tibetan history is not a big part of the curriculum at Business shcool?” said Justin. His mouth curled into a smile.

“He’s sympathetic,” said Liz, “but he’s more conservative I suppose, not so keen on political activism.” She brushed her shoulder length brown hair back from her face.

“Mmm. What do you think yourself?” asked Greg. “Weren’t you quoting some Pope the other day about doing what is right?”

“Not the Pope, you twit.” She laughed, “Jeremy Pope. He said ‘When you are on the side of right, good things happen.’”

“Except no two people can agree on what is right.” said Justin, raising his eyebrows, and taking another swig of his beer.

Near the bar a man began to sing. He was dressed up in traditional clothing of the Kham region of Eastern Tibet, white shirt, grey top with the long sleeves tied around his waist, loose pants and leather boots. His long hair was wound round his head. His loud voice was accompanied by exaggerated drunken movements in time with the song. The bar fell silent with only murmurings amongst the crowd competing with the singing. Many Tibetans in the room looked down avoiding the man.

            “What’s he singing?” asked someone. The eyes of the group turned to Liz.

She bit her lip, looked and frowned, “I think it’s about the Dalai Lama. Not sure exactly.” she said.

Shouts erupted near the entrance of the bar. Two Chinese in dark clothes and short haircuts quickly moved towards the singer. They shouted at him again as they approached. The singer stared at them and sang louder. One grabbed his arm and began to drag him out of the bar. He pulled his arm away and continued singing, almost shouting the words. The second man pulled a baton out of his jacket and raised it. The singer raised him arm and shouted at the top of his voice. The thud of the baton brought silence. The man sunk to his knees and the two Chinese dragged him out of the bar.

 

            The murmurings in the room gradually increased in volume. “This place must be crawling with police.” said Justin.

“Probably,” said Greg, “China spends more on internal security than on the military, and that’s a lot.”

            “That’s exactly why it’s stupid to try anything.” said Toby returning to the table, his hands full of drinks. “There’s no point when the other side holds all the aces. What did he achieve?” he asked, “Absolutely nothing.”

            “What if it was your country being taken over by someone else? Would you just do nothing?” asked Greg.

            “Maybe I’d just have to get used to it. Bide my time.” he replied.

            Greg shook his head.

            “That’s not as bad as it sounds,” said Liz, “Retaining the culture and promoting the language are worthwhile. And the politics might change one day.”

            “Chinese nationalism isn’t going anywhere in a hurry.” said Greg. “The government is scared China will fall apart if they allow any minorities to get too independent.”

            “Why do you live here then, if you hate it so much?” asked Toby.

 Greg looked at him, “I like aspects of Chinese culture and history, the landscape, the food. Just not so keen on the politics. I’ve studied the language and traditional philosophies. Lots of fascinating stuff…”

            “So what would you do to change things?” interrupted Toby. Liz nudged him gently with her elbow.

            “Well,” said Greg, “what Liz said is right,” He looked at her and nodded, “help preserve the language and culture. That’s why I came to Lithang. This annual horse festival is one of the biggest cultural events in Eastern Tibet. And next summer I’m planning to do some volunteer English teaching in an orphanage up in Qinghai province. I met a teacher from there when I was travelling.”

He paused.

“Apart from that, I’m not sure. Who knows, maybe the Tibetans can somehow get the Chinese government to change its approach. Or maybe foreign governments can. I mean the government makes Tibetan high school students study in Chinese right? I read that they did an experiment in Tibet with teaching all subjects in Tibetan. The kids did better, even in the Chinese language exam. They don’t want to change the system though because of the politics of it. Maybe if more people knew what is going on things might change. Even the Chinese don’t get told the whole story.” Greg looked around the table and then stared into his beer.

            “Dozens of them have set themselves on fire and nothing has changed.” said Toby. “Don’t hold your breath.”

“They do change the regulations sometimes. Things might get better.” said Liz.

“True.” Greg nodded. “But mostly they tighten things up. Look at the police here.”

            “I don’t know what they can really do.” said Justin. “The government blocks websites, censors the news, reads emails and blogs. You’ve got a VPN yourself Greg, to get around the Great Fire Wall of China.”

“What’s a VPN ?” asked Catriona, one of several Irish travelers in China for the first time.

            “A Vitural Personal Network.” said Justin “It a computer program that allows you to access the internet via the US or somewhere overseas, so you can get Facebook, YouTube and other websites that are blocked.”

            “Oh.”

“Ok, enough politics for tonight.” Toby raised his bottle. “Let’s party, for tomorrow the festival begins. Cheers!”

 

********  1^st  August, am  ********

 

            Justin picked up his bag and stood by the door. “I’m heading out early to get a good spot at the festival grounds.”

            “Ok. I’ll catch you up later.” said Greg. He rolled over in bed and held the pillow over his eyes.

            The noise outside the hostel gradually increased as the town stirred into life. He reluctantly dragged himself out of bed and into the small bathroom. He washed his face and brushed his teeth. Then he went back into the room thendrank half a plastic bottle of water. He looked at the empty beer bottles on the Tibetan style dresser and rubbed his head. Not such a great idea to buy more booze and invite people back to the room after all.

On the brightly painted Tibetan style chest of drawers the light on the battery charger glowed green. He switched it off and slipped the battery into the camera, pulled out his tablet and hooked up the USB cable. He began pulling on his clothes as the files began transferring across.

When the file download was complete he pulled out a memory stick and transferred them onto that as well. Always have a backup. He’d spent two weeks of the summer holiday from his English teaching job traveling in west China. He had 20 gigabytes of photos and video from his new camera didn’t want to lose it before he got back to Beijing.

After another 10 minutes the copying was complete and he pressed buttons on the camera to reformat the camera memory card, wiping the old photos. He opened the window, mounted the camera on his tripod and pointed it out into the street. The morning light was shining on the buildings opposite and lit up the colourful clothes of the people preparing to head out for the grand opening of the festival.

He took a few shots and then heard a knock at the door. He went to open it. Liz stood there with her day pack over her shoulder.

“Hi, come in.” said Greg.

She smiled and looked around at the room. “How are you feeling?”

            “Not too flash.”

            “Toby and I and the Irish girls are heading out to breakfast soon. Do you want to join us?”

            “Yeah sure. Just a minute, almost ready. Don’t think I can handle yak butter tea this morning though.”

Liz stepped around the mess on the floor to the camera and peered through the viewfinder. “The locals look amazing when they’re dressed up.”

            “Yeah.”

She moved away and Greg peered into the view finder, zooming in to get a closer look. A brightly coloured young woman caught his eye. She was dressed up for the festival in a green patterned traditional long dress. She wore a wide brimmed hat and a long plait hung down her back. She carried a small jerry can in one hand.

He snapped a couple of shots.

The woman looked both ways down the street and began to cross.

He switched the camera to video, focused and pressed record, and panned slowly as the woman crossed the wide main street. At the far side she stopped and put the can down next to a straggly tree planted at the edge of the footpath, one of a row of neglected street plantings. She fiddled with the lid and then lifted it up high and then began to pour something over herself.

“What’s she doing?” asked Liz craning over Greg’s shoulder.

“No idea, looks weird.” said Greg. The woman put the can down and then kneeled on the road. She pulled a long Buddhist rosary out of her clothes and then a small box. She flicked her wrist. Suddenly flames burst into life around her.

“Oh my God.” gasped Liz her hands moving to cover her mouth. 

            “Geez.” breathed Greg. He stared out the window, unable to take his eyes off the fire that engulfed the woman. She shouted some thing over and over and held the rosary in her hands. Around her people stood and stared. A group of Chinese tourists came out of small restaurant and stood transfixed, horror on their faces, as their guide tried to hustle them away.

            “Why would someone do such a thing?” asked Liz

“God knows.” said Greg quietly.

The flames continued to burn as the woman stopped shouting and slumped down. After a few minutes two policemen appeared. They began shouting and one spoke into a radio. They conferred and one ran off into a nearby building. The other spoke into his radio.

The policeman returned a carrying a fire extinguisher. He stepped onto the road and tried to douse the flames.

 Eventually the flames began to subside. The charred body of the woman fell sideways onto the road. People crowded around many fingering beads and murmuring Buddhist prayers.

Two men stepped through the crowd carrying a large cloth. The policemen shouted at them and one pushed them back. The two men moved forward again and one of the policemen drew his baton. Voices in the crowd shouted at the policemen and the crowd pushed forward. The policemen began to swing their batons as sirens sounded in the distance. The crowd surrounded the police and some men began to hit them. One fell and was kicked. More police arrived and joined the melee. Some in the crowd picked up stones and began to hurl them at the police vehicles as they arrived.

In the road the two men knelt and wrapped the woman’s body in the cloth and began to carry her away. More police, armed with helmets and shields arrived in vans. They formed up in a row and began to force their way through the crowd swinging their batons at everyone in their way, shields raised to deflect stones. People began moving aside, some bleeding from their blows. They spotted the men carrying away the body and a group of police detached to stop them, beating them to the ground. More police arrived and sealed off the street at both ends of the block. They began to escort people away to the large black and white vans parked down the street. 

            Greg kept filming, his mouth hung open but no words came out.

            “Oh my God.” said Liz again at last. “I can’t believe I just saw that.”

As the street cleared yet more police arrived. An officer began issuing instructions. Several men picked up the body and carried it to a police van. Others split into groups and began heading into the restaurants and hotels along the street. One group headed towards the hostel.

Greg stopped filming and detached the camera from the tripod. “We’ve got to get this film out somehow. We need to hide it before the police get it and delete it.”

“How?” said Liz, turning away from the window.

“I’ve got a spare memory stick. If I can copy the film, erase the camera memory card and hide the stick we might be able to manage it.”

She nodded. “Quick then, let’s do it.”

“Maybe this can do some good.” Greg said as he picked up the USB cable.

“Yes.” said Liz. “We have to try.”

“We’re on the side of right aren’t we?”

She looked at him and nodded.

Greg hooked up the camera to the tablet and scrabbled in his bag for the memory stick. He plugged it in and began the transfer.

“It’s a big file. It’s going to take a few minutes.” He folded up the tripod and placed it behind his bag, then closed the window.

            Shouts in Chinese sounded down the corridor.

“They want everyone out.” Greg said translating the Chinese. “We need to stall them.”

He looked around the room clothes on the floor, beer bottles, two unmade beds...

“Get into bed and take you clothes off.”

“What?!” said Liz

“We’ve got to give the computer enough time. They can’t drag us out naked.”

She looked at him wide-eyed.

“Have you got a better idea?” he asked. He pulled the curtains closed. “Get under the sheets. I won’t look.” he said turning away, pulling off his shirt and draping it over the camera and tablet. 

Liz slipped off her shoes and began undressing under the sheets. Greg stripped and finally took of his underwear and threw them on the floor.

“Everything?” she asked

“Yes, in case they check. Put on the underwear on top of the pile so they can see it.

She cringed. “Toby better not come looking for me, he’ll flip.”

Greg climbed into the bed. “We better make this look real.” He placed one leg between her thighs and lowered himself gently, trying to touch her as little as possible. Her legs clamped tight.

“Relax.” he whispered. “Lie back and think of Tib...”

“Shut up!” she hissed.

They heard the door handle rattle. Greg lowered his head as if to kiss her neck. Two policeman walked into the room.

Liz screamed.

Greg rolled sideways off her. “Hey what are you doing?” he shouted.

“Qi chuang.” Get up. The policemen looked at the bed and the clothes on the floor.

Liz pulled the sheet to her throat, shaking.

“Ok. Deng yixia. Wo men dei chuan yifu.” said Greg. Wait a minute, we need to get dressed.

“Kuai dian.” Quickly, said one of the policemen and they turned to leave.

“Liz!” yelled Toby, arriving at the door. “Are you ok?” He stopped dead. “What the...?”

“Toby!” shouted Liz.

 

********

Read  Trial by Fire - (Part 2) Air  here. 


PHOTOS
If you want to see some great photos of the Lithang horse festival see Charlie McRae's photo blog here.  We met up at the horse festival in 2013 and he took some fantastic shots while he was there, plus other areas of Eastern Tibet. Ganzi! Ganzi!


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