Tsampa and Chang... Cup after cup of Good Kharma for a Khampa Couple

Here is an account that I typed up last week, on the 24th of June:

Hey, this is Josh...

I now sit in a Wangba (internet cafe) after a long, wet, and at times
snowy journey on the road eastward, typing up this post, digesting my tang
cu liji and mifan (sweet and sour pork and rice), sipping a cup of tea,
and feeling relieved to be out of the car! We are now in the town of
Dzogang and small sized rural town. We spent all day today in the Landcruisers,
getting here from Rawu, the much smaller town that marked our entrance
into Kham and offered us food and lodging for the last few nights.

RAWU

During our stay in Rawu, we took a day trip to the Ngagong area of Kham,
where we were stopped at a gate and payed 20 yuan (about US$ 3) a head to
walk the 3 km to Lhagu village up a steep dirt road winding through
rolling hills of grazing land, dotted with the occasional mud roofed
wooden house, grazing yak or cow, or pile of mani stones. This short hike
allowed us to gape in awe at the Lhagu glacier, remanents of which were
still visible in the lake below, and if the weather had been a little
better we could have seen on the glacial peak above. Like most of this
wonderous and mountain infested land, we were surrounded on all sides by
enormous and breathtaking hills of lush green with a white snowy trim,
and, as we are quickly becoming accustomed to on this side of Tibet, tried
our best to stay dry as a light rain sporadically fell from the constantly
swirling cloud canopy above.
When we reached the village, we were greeted by a few children running
about, offering us "hu-loo"s, waves, and big smiles. After a short stroll
through the village, and older Khampa women gestured for us to follow and
offered us a few words of which I, not surpisingly, did not understand.
We were informed that she was inviting us to her house, so we followed
excited to see inside one of the small domains that lay all around us.
The houses in these small Kham villages are integrated perfectly with their
surroundings, seeming at times to come right out of the hills. They are
made of mud, wood and st one, and often times have a fence made of an intricate
branch weave. As we reached the lady's home, she extended warm
"tashi-delek"s to us, knowing that was probably the limit of our Tibetan
vocabulary, and continually wore a very inviting smile upon her wrinkled
face. We cleaned off our muddy feet and entered her abode, comforted by
the dry warmth and earthy smell of her fire. She signalled for us to sit,
and we gladly and thankfully accepted.
Soon after we were seated, a pot of water was set on the stove to boil,
and the lady brought out a large wooden cylinder, about 3.5 feet high and
8 inches in diameter. This was a Tibetan tea churn, and after the water
beganto boil she poured it into the cylider along with some tea and a
clump of yak butter, and proceeded to draw a large stick in and out of the
churn. Through the wall, we could here a baby's cry, of which the lady
immitated and let out friendly laughter as she churned the hot water, tea,
and yak butter. She then poured this into another kettle and brought out
2 large bowls of fine brown powder. This was Tsampa... Barley flour, and
the meal we were about to indulge in is the primary source of sustinence for most
rural Tibetans.
The buttery liquid was poured into the small bowl that my three companions
and I had each been given, and with a chopstick we mixed in the tsampa,
creating a thick paste that was surprisingly tasty... Kind of like Cheerio
porridge. The lady went to the next room and retrieved the Baby who's
cries had been drifting through the wall, and brought him before us with a
very proud look on her face. Through body language we learned that this
child was our kind hostess' grandaughter, and her parents were out working
on the land. After we had all finished our first bowl, she insisted that
we have another... and another... and another...
Around the time our stomachs were full and we were discussing amongst
ourselves a polite way to deny another helping, an elderly man walked in
with a smile just as intense as that of his wives. He spoke to us in a
low and tired voice, offering us more "tashi-delek"s and staring deeply
and sincerely at us with very kind eyes. He put a bowl of wild onion
chutes down on the trunk next to the stove, and gestured for us to add it
to our next bowl of tsampa, which, to avoid being rude, we all did after
much hesitation.... By this time we all felt as though we would soon
explode. He then uncovered a litre sprite bottle filled with a clear
mystery liquid that, due to the expression on the man's face, we figured
was not sprite. He filled a 2 ounce glass with the liquid and excitedly
handed it to me. We asked him "baijiu" which is Chinese for vodka and he
shook his head no. He pointed to the barley paste, and we figured out
that this was Chang... fermented barley wine. I took it and sipped, as
did the rest of my group. He tried (successfully) to refill our glasses
again... sip sip... and again, but this being scholastic field trip, we
had to deny...
At this point we decided it was probably time to meet the rest of the
group, and tried as politely as possible to leave amidst their continuing
effort to refill our glasses and bowls. So much hospitality... I couldn't
help but think of how much different the treatment that thisTibetan couple
would find if it were they travelling abroad in the country that I call
home. We tried to offer the couple some money, which they denied, and
left to their sad faces, obviously very dissapointed that we could not
stay for a longer visit. We went out the heavy wooden door, deorated with a sun over a moon, a Buddhist symbol signifying the union of compassion and wisdom, and headed back into the cold rain of
Kham and down the trail to rondezvous with the group, much heavier and
warmer from all of the food, and a little lighter on our feet from the chang:
in much better spirits on our damp and awe inspiring walk back to the gate.