Miyaluo
We arrive in Miyaluo after a fairly smooth ride up a
beautiful valley embraced by wooded mountains. Dusk is falling
and the rain has stopped, leaving a fresh scent in the moist
evening. Gray stone Tibetan houses sit solidly amid green fields
planted in neat rows outside of town. These structures have three
stories. The uppermost floor, which we learn is a shrine,
consists of an open room with a peaked roof that covers half of
the flat roof space and opens into a balcony. Windows pierce the
second-floor walls, encased in beautiful carved and painted
wooden frames. Where shutters would hang in a Western house,
whitewash has been applied. The Chinese part of town is less
attractive; the road narrows, like a diseased artery, clogged
with a plaque of storefronts and rundown buildings. Pedestrians
and vehicles jam the dirty street.
Anne and I wander out of town along the road, escorted by a
half dozen school children who are walking home carrying their
books. They shoot us shy glances as they take turns rolling the
top of a tin can down the road, laughing as they rush after the
spinning metal disk, which clatters noisily down the patchy
pavement. They are careful never to get far from the fascinating
foreigners, but one by one, withdraw to go to their homes,
finally leaving us alone in the cool evening.
There is an area by the river planted with poles
bearing prayer flags - lung ta in Tibetan - which are a
very practical method of generating prayers. Tibetans believe
that when the wind blows, the mantras and sacred texts printed by
woodblock on the flags sail heavenward, the wind carrying their
positive energy. Mantras are sounds or words that, when spoken
aloud or silently, aid in connecting with the deeper layers of
consciousness. The most common mantras are those of the three
main bodhisattvas of Tibetan Buddhism (Avalokiteshvara,
Manjushri, and Vajrapani) and of the long-life deities (Amitayus,
Vijaya, and White Tara). The flags may be made in the five
symbolic colors: yellow, green, red, white, and blue (or black).
These represent earth, water, fire, cloud, and sky or space,
respectively. Erecting prayer flags at high places protects
against hostile forces and assists in the generation of good
fortune; flags at mountain passes help safeguard travelers. The
damp flags on the poles have lost their color, fading to a
gray-white, and hang limply, lending an air of neglect.
After dinner, we collect flashlights and coats and walk to the
Tibetan village, where we have been invited to a performance of
folk dancing. We enter the house through a door protected by
prayer flags and faded square banners printed with guardian
deities. Our flashlights reveal the bottom floor is a single
large room about 15 m on a side, used as a stable in the winter.
A steep ladder-like stair in the corner ascends to the main
living space, which is lit by bare electric bulbs hanging from
the ceiling. The room has a smooth floor made of close-fitted
wooden beams, darkened by smoke and traffic. A cast iron stove
with a black pipe flue sits on flagstones in the center of the
chamber. Another stair-ladder ascends to the roof-top shrine.
During the next 30 minutes, other raven-haired
ladies from the village arrive dressed in beautiful traditional
garb (right). Most of women are young and all are beautiful;
smiles light their faces. They wear bright vests and aprons
embroidered with gold thread over long skirts with tassles along
the hems. Jewelry and multicolored woven belts studded with
brasswork complete their effulgent ensemble. Finally seven
dancers have gathered and all is ready.
The women dance energetically, stamping their feet in
unison with the music (left). Their obvious enjoyment is
infectious and everyone wears broad smiles. The dancers spin and
move clockwise around the stove. Their jewelery, long embroidered
skirts and colorful aprons are lit by flashes from cameras.
