:: One People, Many Cultures ::



::Living Together in Respect and Friendship::

Winter starts this week in Bhutan. At least, it does for government workers. The office I share with a growing community in the base of Thimphu is quite bright and warm, getting the sun all day. In winter, particularly because of its southerly aspect (northern hemisphere, remember) and we had curtains installed recently so people could see their PC monitors. But for all the brightness of daylight, it doesn’t last long. At 4pm, we had to turn all the lights on because the sun had gone down. That’s the problem of living in a north-south valley with walls a couple of kilometres high.

In the spirit of Gross National Happiness, the government, being the primary employer of Bhutanese people, lets staff go at 4pm from November to February. Unfortunately for me, my office mates and I are all in the private sector and work under capitalist principles. A reduction of work hours means a reduction of income, so when I work in town, I try to stay until at least 5pm. Somehow, I think I’ll be working at home more often and cycling up to BBS tower in the noon warmth.

It’s taken a few days to get up the courage to write this as it’s not a view I want people to have of Bhutan, but it’s real. One of my old students, who now works for Marie, has a brother in intensive care. Marie went to see him the other day and just made it out without fainting, but that has as much to do with the hospital conditions as the patient’s condition. He’d gone to play pool in town in the early evening and the police found him in the street at 11pm with his head bashed in with what might have been a cricket bat. They took him to the hospital where he’s been in a coma since.

Bhutan is meant to be a country full of friendly, compassionate people devoted to Buddhism. It is, though I don’t think most people understand Buddhism much better than me. But there are regular reports of this kind of violence – in fact there were 6 patients in similar condition (not necessarily all from beatings) in the same critical care room. I see two big questions. Does it happen more here than in other countries? And is this new since Bhutan opened up, created money and started receiving TV and internet?

In my mind, it happens more here than elsewhere on a per capita basis, but I think it’s an illusion. It’s probably just because it’s a small community so we hear about these incidents more than we would in other countries. As to it being new, I doubt there’s a clear answer. RENEW is seeing more cases of domestic violence all the time, but they believe that the victims are more likely to come forward now and the same might be true for the lesser cases of street violence. There is also undoubtedly a new element caused by the materialist motives that are finding there way in from the outside world.

Japan managed the transition from fuedal to industrial society without losing too many of their values or heavy crime, but they destroyed much of their nature in the rush. Bhutan is trying to do the same in a shorter time and it will be interesting to see how well they manage it.

My day was rescued in part by finally gaining the throne in the war campaign of Stronghold2, but mostly by a visit to the handicraft fair in the late afternoon. I’d been watching stalls being erected in the Clock Tower Square for the past week with no knowledge of what they were for. It was a guest at our dinner the night before that told us of the fair and how wonderful it was.

We rugged up against the cold drizzle and wandered down at around 4 o’clock to find a crowd gathered in the amphitheatre waiting for a show. While they waited, we checked out the stalls displaying local crafts from all over the country. Much of it I hadn’t seen before. Marie pointed out a thick felt that the villagers from Mirek wear to stay warm. The Tarayana foundation was sponsoring a group of villagers to make scented candles, supplying all the raw materials and letting the villagers take all the profits. One stall was selling a range of foods and I tried a traditional Bhutanese momo (meat dumpling) that seemed to be made from a stringy plant with a spinachy flavour. Apparently the momos we normally eat are Tibetan.

The show, when we eventually settled in to watch it, standing to the side of the stage, was traditional dancing and music by the Royal Academy of Performing Arts. We’ve seen them before, but this time they performed the dances in the local costumes of the areas they come from. Since I hadn’t seen most of the costumes being worn, that alone was enough to make my day. But then the clouds cleared and beyond the stage, beyond the buildings of Thimphu, beyond the nearest mountains, was evidence that the rain down at 2000m was snow at 4000m – the first of the year. It was one of those moments that you want to bottle and take with you to share with the world. Unfortunately, my camera was at home. I tried to borrow a friend’s (who was sitting in a coffee shop), but I couldn’t work out how to use his professional model. As soon as they come out, I’ll update this entry whether the photos worth it or not.

While I’m waiting for that photo, here’s one I took the following day when skies were blue again. There’s another just before it in the album that shows the first snows, but the thumbnail version isn’t so pretty.

I’ve never seen the Japanese sport of archery, so when I heard it was being demonstrated yesterday on the local archery ground, I jumped at the chance. I was late, but the first 45 minutes seemed to just be a presentation on the history of the sport. When they finally got started, 3 elderly Japanese men that I hadn’t seen around town marched out in slow formal Japanese style. All graceful moves, they were obviously professionals. A Japanese friend told me that 3 archers had been flown in for the demonstration, probably 8th dan, which is about as high as you can get.

Each fired an arrow in turn. These bows are 2.2m tall and fired from 1/3 of the way along the string, which is very different from most bows. The other difference was the fact that the arrows seemed to appear in the target without having travelled the distance in between. That may be that they’re faster than Bhutanese bows or it may be purely because the target was only 20m away rather than the 150m range I’m used to seeing here.

Disappointingly, the professionals only fired two arrows each before passing the bows to the special guests. The Prime Minister was first, his arrow dropping to the ground after a couple of metres. The other guests didn’t fare much better so these bows were obviously very different in style to the local bows. The range was then opened up to the public and a number of us rushed forward to have a turn. I politely waited, watching as a few successful archers managed to cover the 20m. When at last it was my turn and I stood on the mat with a bow in hand waiting for an arrow, the commentator announced that they understood there were more people wanting to try, but due to time constraints they had to stop for the day. It made no sense. They’d paid all this money to bring professionals out only to shoot 2 arrows each and now, with only one person left wanting to try, they were stopping the show. The disappointment almost ruined my day.

Yesterday began cold and wet so we forewent a long walk or bike ride and Marie decided she’d try to join the over 40 run against poverty in celebration of UN day. She joined Michelle to complete the contingent of expats. For some reason (possibly the rain) no UN expats joined. The registered along with 107 other runners of all ages and received a cap and t-shirt. I went to sit in the tent with my friends who were there to represent various aid organisations.

After a couple of speeches by the UN Resident Representative and a Dasho I didn’t recognise, they were sent on their way around the block. It was only 4km, but some women were running in kira and heeled shoes. Smiles adorned every face as they came in. Marie and Michelle came in 12th and 15th respectively, the first two among the women and Marie said that it was mostly a social run. She’d been chatting with an army musician most of the way. Despite the short distance, officials stood at every corner, backed up by police to stop traffic, and there was a water stop half way. The women in kiras arrived near the back of the group, cloth in disarray to the point of looking like a western skirt rather than the neat tube it’s meant to be.

All in all, a great event enjoyed by participants and spectators alike. The only strange aspect was that when trophies were presented, they didn’t even acknowledge the expat participation, let alone the fact that both of them were place getters. Those trophies went to Bhutanese, which is fair enough, but how does that represent the United Nations?

I lost it yesterday. My tolerance finally cracked and I ended up in an loud argument with the driver of a large car. I’d rushed up to Shop No 7 to buy some butter and cream so Marie could make a cake for the French guests we have coming tonight. I parked neatly in their generously sized parking area and entered the shop. When I came out a few minutes later, an obnoxious red 4WD was parked in the parking lot entrance.

It happens to us all the time. Once, early on, I went into a shop to pick up an item already paid for and when I came out less than a minute later, a similar 4WD had parked me in. I waited for 20 minutes for them to come back.

Almost everyone in our building now owns a car and there just isn’t enough space for them all in the compound, so most days we park inside, we find that someone has parked us in. Not knowing who owns which car or who lives in which flat, we have to sit on the horn until someone turns up to move the car. This is fine at 8:30 when people are awake and we have time to get where we’re going, but it’s not acceptable at 8:50 when Marie’s in a rush to get to work. It’s even worse at 4:20am when we have to go to the airport. We’ve taken to leaving the car on the street even if there are spaces available inside.

But this bloke yesterday was incredible. He could have left the car across the road and walked an extra 5m. He could have driven an extra 2m and parked properly. But he left the car right in the entrance, as if to show that he could. Probably a big shot or the son or wife of one. I went back into the shop and asked who’d parked me in. My tone wasn’t friendly. No answer. I went back out and checked that there was no way I could squeeze through. Not a chance. Back in the shop, I shouted out asking for the owner of the red 4WD. Someone pointed to a young bloke, not much over 20. He was just finished paying, looked up and said cockily, ‘yeah, that’s mine. What’s the problem?’ The last was said as he followed me out, as if he couldn’t see that he’d parked badly.

‘You’ve parked me in.’ I spoke as if talking to a halfwit, wondering if I was. I pointed at my car just in case he hadn’t noticed it.

‘How was I meant to know that was your car?’

Words almost failed me, but I managed a final coherent sentence before anger took over. ‘It doesn’t matter who’s car it is. Parked in. Move.’

‘You could be polite about it,’ he said, still not moving.

I should have said, ‘Is it polite to park the way you did?’ but all I could manage was a glare while I waited for him to move.

With the Bhutanese slow lifestyle and lack of experience with heavy traffic, it’s no real surprise that they don’t think of the trouble they cause with actions like this. To me, it’s rude and un-Buddhist, but to them it’s taking it easy.

There was one more interesting person I met last night – they were all women for some reason. Dorji Yanki (I have no idea about the spelling of this) is a young woman who leads the team that manages renovations to all cultural buildings in Bhutan. Her team consists of 2 Bhutanese architects, 2 Japanese architects (one of who is our neighbour) and 3 engineers. Between them, they are looking after 9 projects in Thimphu and 3 in each of the other dzongkhags, making a total of almost 70 projects.

On top of this, she’s flying to Chang Mai today to oversee the final construction of an entry into the Royal Flora Expo. She’s involved because the objective is to use flowers to showcase each country’s culture. The Bhutanese display will include a prayer wheel and other structural items.

But the highlight of the night was meeting Deki Yangzom, who was introduced to me with the words ‘MAG, this is Deki. You’ve probably seen her back.’ It took a moment to realise that Deki played a character of the same name in Travellers and Magicians. The poor girl told me that her back seems to be the only part of her that men know.

She hasn’t let international stardom get to her and though she says it hasn’t hit her yet, I doubt it ever will. More reserved than most Bhutanese women, she is willing to get involved in anything (including a video to help market Bhutan in Australia which she signed up for last night) but has no obvious ego.

Deki told us that she’s not considered particularly beautiful by Bhutanese standards, even with her relatively fair skin, because her face isn’t round enough and her eyes are too straight. She was chosen for her appeal to the western audience and even then had to have her skin darkened with foundation. The difference is so marked that I’d never have picked her without the unusual introduction and having seen the film again only last week. ‘I was fatter then’ she said, though I think fat is the wrong word. Womanly then and gaunt now, I’d say, but still beautiful enough to make me forget if she mentioned what her job is now.

That scene with the back is clear in her memory. It was a closed set with just her, the director, the key grip and two girls there to make her more comfortable. She makes it sound as though the original shot was more revealing. She was naked beneath the kira and bared everything to the girls as she handed them the koma clips, letting the kira fall to the ground. The movie may not have been to Bhutanese taste, but the men remember that scene almost as well as Deki herself.

Another Chimi I met last night worked for almost 20 years in the government, ending up leading (I think) the Policy and Planning division of the Ministry of Agriculture before deciding that she’d repaid the government for her education and left to work in the Tarayana Foundation.
I know little of the foundation and my main interest in our discussion were her plans for retirement. A self-confessed workaholic, she knew that she’d need to stay involved in something like Tarayana for as long as she could, but the big decision would be where to live. She currently lives in the ancestral home in the heart of Thimphu and doesn’t like the thought of spending the rest of her life in the growing town. Thimphu was built to cater for 20,000 people, she told me. All the sewerage, water supply, everything was created for 20.000, but it’s already at 80,000.’ And with the growing human population comes a proportionate growth in the canine population.

But where to go? Chimi had refused any number of opportunities to work overseas and wasn’t about to leave now. Bhutanese are tied to their homeland and to their ancestral homes. She’d have to leave the home to one of her younger sisters, but then where? She’d been making a list of places in Bhutan that might be right, but it had become a running joke in her family that she was crossing places off the list faster than she was adding them on.

And then there’s the issue of family support. She’d have to stay close enough that the 6 siblings could eat together a few times each week. And she fears the loss of that closeness for the Bhutanese culture as the country opens itself up to western influences. Apparently, one of Tarayana’s objectives is to raise awareness about the potential loss of those values and what impact that would have on society, but I think that’s another post.

Last night I was invited to drinks by Cathy Harris, the honorary consul of Bhutan to Australia. Although I didn’t really get to meet Cathy, I met a number of interesting people. One was Chimi who works for Respecting, Educating, Nurturing and Enabling Women, RENEW. We talked about the good work they do in helping women who are poor or disabled, but I was surprised when she said that one of the main reasons the group was originally created was because of night hunting.

Night hunting is the tradition of Bhutanese men to climb in the windows of girl’s bedrooms (often shared with the rest of the family) to sleep with them. The tradition said that if he was still there in the morning, the couple were married. I had thought that it was at least the equivalent of our ‘one night stand’ with both parties giving consent. Hodor, from the Dagala trek, told me it was more than that and that the man would have to spend many nights wooing the girl before she’d invite him in.

But apparently, when one of the queens was touring the country, she was approached by many women complaining about what was, in effect, rape. These women had little say in what happened and are burdened with the resulting baby. The queen decided to do something about it and started RENEW. The practice may soon become illegal. It would be sad to see a tradition that has served for both people’s pleasure and as the courtship / marriage process be thrown away, but if it’s being abused and the people want change, it’s for the best.