Photo: The motorcycle has been replacing the horse on the steppe among Mongolian and Tibetan herdsmen. In the Henan Mongol Autonomous County, where Sander and I spent 11 days, we saw Mongolian and Tibetan herdsmen on both horses and motorcycles ... but mostly motorcycles in the town of Henan.
During a bumpy bus ride between Zeku and Heri, Sander gazed out upon the steppe and watched Tibetan women in chubas filling large green bags before asking, "Dad. What are they harvesting?"
Squinting out the window in the direction Sander was looking, I said, "Just as people in Vermont are collecting firewood for their winter, so the Tibetans here are collecting yak dung for theirs. Eventually, they'll pile it into a mound and probably, later on, mix it with water, make it into round fistfulls, flatten it into circular patties, then slap them against a south-facing wall. There the patties will dry in the sun. Once dried, they'll peel them off and stack them away for the winter."
We've been smelling the smoke of yak dung fires lately. Not only from cooking fires but ceremonial ones from below our room in Heri, neaby residences, and Buddhist sites. I've actually taken a liking to the smell, almost as much as I did to the pinon pine on the Navajo Indian Reservation. It's a smell we find most everywhere here.
Everywhere, the Mongolians and Tibetans have taken a liking to Sander. Tall, chuba- and sash-wearing, rough-looking men with weathered faces, would stop or walk over to Sander on the street and lock eyes with him. A bit startled at first, Sander would look toward me. Only a couple times did I have to say, "Meet his gaze, Sander, and hold onto it. Look deep into his eyes the way he's doing to you. Then, when you're ready, flash him a big smile." Unlike the Chinese, who consider it disrespectful to lock eyes for most any length of time, the Mongolians and Tibetans love it. They meet eyes and capture you. It's as if they read who you are in how you respond. Sander, from then on, would meet their gaze, and hold onto it in a long intimate exchange. Then curl his lips into a huge smile revealing his braces. Without fail, the Mongolians and Tibetans of Amdo, who value any form of generosity or act of kindness, even a smile, responded with an even bigger one and often one decorated with many gold teeth. As the the Mongolians and Tibetans of Amdo captured Sander, Sander captured them.
Photos: Captured in an Amdo gaze: 12 people we met.
We were also captured by more than a few monks between Henan and Tongde. They would so often approach us, grab us by the hands, lead us to a certain spot, ask to be photographed with us, and we with them exchanging cameras, and then we would go our own ways. Although sometimes there were other requests. In Tongde, after such an exchange, a group of monks invited us to eat with them. Since we had just eaten, we declined and told them that we were going to climb the mountain. They liked the idea, especially, I think, because they had just climbed it themselves. They then invited us to drink together after we returned. We thanked them but, even though hardly any of the monks we encountered since Hong Kong tried to solicit us for money, declined to take them up on it. But the gesture itself was like another Tibetan smile.
After visiting the monestary in Heri, Sander and I were walking back through town when it was crowded with people from the steppe. Horses were being traded and huge bales of sheepskins as well. Utensils, tools, and food were being purchased. Motorcycles, the new horse of the steppe, were everywhere. A Tibetan on a motorcycle locked eyes with me as he drove slowly past. I locked eyes with him. He looked as if he could have played the lead role in a film about an Amdo fight for independence. I flashed him a big smile. He, to my suprise, stuck his tongue out at me! I told Sander.
"Yeah Dad. It's a sign of respect or admiration. I've gotten it a lot. Actually, I've started doing it back."
Sander and I left Tongde on the Amdo steppe by bus and rode to Guide (pronounced: Gwee de).
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