Lobsang Rabsel changed his life by walking. This was not just any walk; this walk took him illegally across borders, had him dodging soldiers and pitted him against the legendary Himalayan Mountains. This walk was the most difficult 27 days of his life, but Lobsang felt he had no other choice.
He was leaving Tibet, where life under Chinese occupation had become unbearable for him. According to Tibetan exiles, over 1.2 million Tibetans have died from fighting, hunger, executions and from working in forced labour camps since China occupied Tibet in 1950. Exiles claim that over 95 per cent of the 6,000 monasteries that once graced Tibet have now been destroyed by the Chinese government and that Tibetans in China struggle daily with famine and torture and are denied freedom of speech. And, as millions of Chinese migrants are being lured to Tibet by monetary incentives, Tibetans are fast becoming a minority in their own lands.
The Dalai Lama, spiritual and political leader of the Tibetan people, was the first to cross by foot from China, through the Himalayas, into Nepal. The journey is the only way to escape Tibet, which the Dalai Lama was forced to do after perceived death threats from the Chinese government. From Nepal he was sent to India, where citizenship is automatically granted to all Tibetans arriving from Tibet in proud recognition that India was the birthplace of Buddhism. From his new home in Dharamsala, India, the Dalai Lama implores his people to mimic his journey. Heeding his call, over 85,000 Tibetans have crossed the world’s most inhospitable mountains in search of better lives.
Lobsang followed in their footsteps in 1993. He had heard of a group leaving in the next few days and decided that this was his chance. He packed his few possessions and paced around the bag anxiously, having no idea what life in India entailed. He sadly said goodbye to his family. The difficult journey meant that his aging parent’s would never be able to leave Tibet and most likely would live out their days in their village with no running water, electricity or telephones. Lobsang knew this would be the last time he would ever see or talk to them.
He met up with his group at nightfall. Their final moments in Lhasa were spent placating anxious parents. Mothers and fathers, too weak to make the journey themselves but desperate to give their children better lives, begged the group to take their children along, reasoning that life as orphans in India was better than a life of persecution in Tibet.
Long, dangerous journey takes place at night
Outnumbered by teary children, the group began their journey. Their February start date had been carefully chosen, as the dead of winter meant fewer Chinese soldiers standing guard at the border. The group walked only at night, under the cover of darkness, and spent their days hiding in Tibetan villages along the way. In the freezing cold, they walked. In knee-high snow, they trudged. Among the wails of fierce winds and cold children, they continued the exhausting repetition of walking. And every morning they gave thanks for having survived one more night of brutal physical exertion, extreme cold and high altitude.
Villages along the way lessened the toll of the journey by providing vital supplies, houses to warm them and food to sustain them. Still, five of the children in their group suffered severe frostbite, losing fingers or toes to the chill of the Himalayan Mountains.
After 27 days of walking, all of Lobsang’s group arrived safely at the Tibetan Reception Centre in Katmandu, Nepal. They collapsed into the centre’s welcoming doors, elated to know they had made it safely past the Chinese border guards and out of China.
From there, they were put on a bus to Dharamsala, India. Their new lives began with tears and screams of joy; not for the new country, which they tepidly stepped into, but for the man who greeted them as they stepped off the bus and into the chilly, mountain air of Northern India. The Dalai Lama, whom no Tibetan in China has glimpsed since his exile over 40 years ago, makes a point of personally welcoming every Tibetan who accomplishes this treacherous journey.
He welcomed them into one of the most unique villages in the world.
There, holy Indian cows roam alongside Tibetan prayer wheels, monks in deep-red robes haggle with women in sparkling saris over the price of spinach at market stalls and restaurant walls feature as many portraits of Buddha as they do of the Hindu god Shiva.
Home to more Tibetans than Indians, Dharamsala is a sanctuary for Tibetan culture. Here Tibetan schools impart Tibetan history to children, Tibetan monasteries overflow with devotees openly practicing Tibetan Buddhism and Tibetan is the dominant language. Organizations cater to the constant inflow of refugees from across the Himalayas, offering them everything from job training to orphanages for the many children who arrive alone.
Led by the Dalai Lama, Dharamsala has become a meaningful space from which the Tibetan community-in-exile can address the world. From this village in the mountains, they call for an end to the suffering of Tibetans in China and network with over 300 Tibet support groups worldwide.
Thirteen years after his incredible journey, Lobsang now publishes a magazine called Contact. This magazine, printed in English, seeks to educate and involve Westerners in Tibetan culture. Every month, when the printer delivers his next issue, there is a gleam in Lobsang’s eye that explains his final thoughts on his 27-day journey. “I am really free now,” he explains, smiling shyly as he fingers the pages of his magazine. “I can speak anything I like. We have freedom here.”
