By Dhondup Tsering
Like most Tibetans in exile these days, I too believed that I would set foot in USA at one point of time in my life. It could have been earlier but that was not to be. I flunked two selection tests before finally managing to latch on to a one year non-degree scholarship to study in United States of America. By that time, my excitement to go abroad had somewhat died down but it was still nonetheless a golden opportunity and I wasted no time in preparing myself mentally for this adventure. So for a year, I was tagged with this soon-to-leave-for-US label which no doubt creates a certain kind of respect and awe in the Tibetan community, however stupid that sounded as soon as I landed here.
A year after the selection test, all the 17 Tibetan Fulbright candidates were ready with their huge bags containing god-knows-what outside the domestic airport in Delhi. Some had their parents, some had their boyfriends, while some had their wives and child. It was an emotional scene. Much tears, much hugging and I felt as if I was leaving India forever. Certainly people were acting as if that was the situation!
We left Delhi in a somewhat dazed state not knowing that our anxieties would mount as we move on. Our belongings were weighed, x-rayed and dumped on a conveyor belt that carried it noisily into the darkness. Arriving in Mumbai two hours later, we were subjected to delays as our yellow IC (Identity Certificate) could not be recognized by the airport personnel. Calls were made here and there by indifferent looking airport staffs, and we managed to board our Jet Airways aircraft only after midnight.
But for a one-hour stop in Brussels, we flew and flew. By the time we reached New York at around midday, we were like walking dead bodies. Lack of sleep, our ear’s resounding with the plane’s noise, coupled with countless airport security checks and our own inexperience had completely taken a toll on our bodies. Our eyes were sunken, now we almost look Indians, and our hairs were crying to be washed.
At the airport, our scholarship coordinator was there to welcome us and we were straightaway taken in two vans to Hotel Pennsylvania, a huge 1700-something room hotel, right in the heart of New York city. The room was comfortable with a huge big tv, though not a flat-screen, and it had a bath tub. So we cleansed our dirt and fatigue in the tub and we emerged more like humans than aliens leaving behind a black pool of water.
Since we had been informed by I-don’t-know-who that we should only sleep when it is evening or otherwise we might get seriously jetlagged, and so I tried hard to remain awake. The battle with sleep would have been lost had it not been for a wonderful Samaritan. A Tibetan, I thought he was a Latino until he spoke Tibetan, looking for another Fulbright candidate who had been his college-mate back in India came near our room. He also knew my roommate, who had been his student. A gregarious man with a smile that reminded me of a close friend, he had been a Fulbright candidate in the mid-90s. Recounting interesting anecdotes and practical advices, he also treated four of us in a nearby park-like enclosure to tea and doughnut. God! I had never tasted tea and doughnut that tasted so delicious as I had on that day. I was really hungry and thirsty! I didn’t know where to buy anything and so this guy was like a Santa Claus. God bless him and his family wherever they may be now! I feel so grateful.
Then our scholarship coordinator from Tibet Fund (www.tibetfund.org) came and took us to the Chinese fast food restaurant in a mall nearby and I chose sweet chicken, rice and broccoli mixture, something that I regretted having chosen later. It was not good. I ate some and threw the rest away. Then with two other candidates, I went to see the world famous Times Square. I walked and walked and finally saw the Times Square which was really nothing but a square with giant screens and bright lights and a lot of people. That was it. I came back somewhat disappointed and slept like a log.
For the next three days, we were subjected to orientations about life and study in USA, about Tibet Fund, about Students for Free Tibet by a bright young fellow, a visit to UN building and also a tour of Staten Island and Statue of Liberty that had to be cancelled due to bad weather. Oh! Wait! I remember one more thing! A lunch at the Tibet Kitchen, a restaurant located near the office of Tibet Fund, where I found the thanthuk most delicious.
On the very second day of our arrival, we went to participate in a gathering of Tibetans from New Jersey and New York and their expression of solidarity with the TYC’s organized hunger-strikes in Delhi, India. I met some friends there. One close friend gave me $100 dollars but also told me that unless I have nowhere else to go, don’t come to his place! There were also other friends who were friendly but no one invited me to stay with them. Even those who had been here for like seven or eight years! I can understand. They must be living with seven or eight people and I would say the same thing if I were in their situation. And then some familiar faces had aged due to too much physical and mental stress and exhaustion, I am sure.
One thing that really shook my perception of America was the subway in New York. Coming from Delhi and having traveled in the metro system there, the New York subway was almost hell-like. On top of being hot, dirty, and claustrophobic, it runs so close to the surface that it makes a noise that could be heard at night all over the city. Somehow I could not fail to notice the gleaming skyscrapers above and the horrible subway below. I asked myself if life in USA isn’t the same thing, and wished fervently that it be not so. So many millions of people come here, leaving behind their loved ones and familiar culture and environment, spending their years in the pursuit of something very few achieve in the end. For their sake and for the millions who will come in future, I pray that there be a light in this land and in other countries as well who are all marching in the same direction.
While in India, we had been told in advance by Tibet Fund that they would accommodate us from 7 August till 11 August, and from them on we had to make our own arrangements till our classes began. Fortunately the residence halls or hostel as we could call them in India of my own university were to open on 13 August, and so I just had to arrange accommodation for only two days. This was fortunately extended most generously by a friend’s friend whose sisters happened to be my classmates back in India. They were most kind enough not only to extend accommodation but moreover took me and my friend to a tour of interesting places in New York on their expense. They paid for everything, and even gave us some cash to spend on the road. I am thankful to all of them and their family.
On the morning of 13th, I left New York with another candidate, and landed five hours later in San Francisco International airport. Although we were informed that there would be green-jacketed volunteers from the university at the airport to guide us, there was no one. We had to make our own way, jostling through the airport, pushing our baggage outside the airport. Outside we hailed a cab driven by a heavy-set Chinese lady who drove as if we were in a chase sequence in a Hollywood thriller through the maze of highways and flyovers to our residence hall.
Half an hour later, we arrived at this non-descript brick-like building (at least from the outside) and were ushered in. We registered ourselves, and then we were given the keys to our room. Our rooms were small but comfortable. It had one chair, two tables, a cupboard, and a bed. Phone and internet was available 24×7.
The next three or four days were really busy. Making student identity card which could also be used for having meals, printing, copying, opening the entrance door of our hostel. It is called one card because it is used for many purposes. Then we had to activate our meal plans so that we could have meals from the university’s cafeteria. We opened our bank accounts and did this check-in at the International Student’s services office.
Then began orientation program for three days where all the new international students come together. We were informed in detail about our visa status, the teaching system in USA, plagiarism, literally the do’s and don’ts in the university. We were told we don’t have to inform the teacher if we want to go to the toilet, and that we could eat but we cannot eat what is called ‘loud food’ meaning crunchy stuffs. A lot of free juices and fruits were available, and like other students, we also made the most of it.
When classes began, the university campus became really colorful and crowded that it was almost like a mela. So many young people with different hairstyles, clothes, and unique sense of fashion could be seen all around. No one seems to have this thing called tshernang (my translation: unnecessary shyness) in Tibetan which I really appreciated about in these people. At the same time, somehow I felt those loud and brash youths in Indian colleges with their bizarre sense of fashion would fit in here just perfectly. It is just our sense of perspective that we see them as strange and the same thing in the west as something fashionable and worthy of emulation. Look at it this way. When I was in India, I used to think the Indian soldiers who go on their vacation dressed in their complete uniforms were trakpo but here I see young Americans going about in their uniforms all over the city, in the university and even in my hostel. Aren’t they actually alike? Don’t they have the same sense of pride?
Here in the university, food is good, especially breakfast. Lunch and dinner are not really what we would like to have but they are edible and even if you don’t want to eat them, you can have fruit salads, milks, sandwiches, etc etc. If someone wants to come to this country, I believe it is important to give up this idea that for dinner or lunch, you must have either rice or tingmo. You have to eat whatever is available and make the most of the situation. Even back in India, you don’t get to eat what you like all the time. Sometimes you are disappointed and it is same here. Just that now you are in a foreign country.
San Francisco or the Bay Area is a strange place. I was told that it was a great place with great weather. Surrounded on two sides by ocean, it is however too windy for my liking. You could travel for hours visiting all the places in the Bay area in what is called BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) or metros as we would call in India. There are Tibetans living in the place but they all live in different locations occasionally coming together on major festivals, private gatherings, and political expressions.
Some Tibetans are happy seeing us when you sometimes come across them. I don’t know what is so uniquely Tibetan but usually Tibetans recognize one another. But there are also some Tibetans who don’t seem too happy seeing us. Once coming back from the university, I went with my friend to this Indian restaurant because I was really hungry and felt like eating something closer to what I was familiar with. So even though we knew it would be expensive, we went in. Inside we saw someone whom we knew in school with his parents. Usually there would be this rejoicing or at least expression of it like when did you come, where do you live, some smiling but there was nothing. He just got up, asked when did we come, and then left. Maybe he thought we arrived on a tourist visa and would be gate crashing in his house if he smiled too much. Who know? Human instinct for self preservation, I believe.
Amongst the first thing I bought in USA was a laptop and I must inform you that I had quite a bad experience. With internet in our room, the only thing I needed was a laptop and so about ten days after my arrival in the university, I bought a brand new HP laptop with two gigs of memory and all. However a week later, when I tried to switch it on, the screen wouldn’t light up. So I went to this Bestbuy store, which is a chain of store here selling electronic goods, and I asked around and I was directed to go to the customer care counter. I went there and a Chinese-looking young guy took over my laptop. He obviously knew something about computers, and took my laptop inside a lab which was situated just over the counter. After fifteen minutes, he came back and told me nothing is wrong. I said something is wrong but he wouldn’t believe and what could I say? I asked where I could do a return here. (If I am not mistaken, according to the US Federal law, a customer could return an object bought if not satisfied with it within a certain period of time.) He said I could but I have to pay a 15% restocking fee, whatever that means.
Two days later, the same thing happened. Determined not to go out easily this time, I went back to the store where incidentally I met the same Chinese geek, and he went through my laptop once again although this time not in the lab. He tapped around and fixed something from the back. Immediately the screen lighted up. I told him that I don’t want the laptop fixed, I need it exchanged for a new one and this laptop was a defective one. He completely refused to accept anything I said and offered to do a hardware diagnostic test on my computer and if anything wrong comes up, he said he would agree to this free exchange. Then he said this test would take like 1 hour and that I should walk around the store. So I walked around and later sat in front of a huge Sony plasma TV and watched some American football. A long time later, I went back, and another fat Chinese geek who had been watching my whole show earlier said that the test would take like 2 hours. Now I was at a loss where to go. Fortunately my university is located near this store and so I went back to my university, had my lunch and then came back. The test was about to be completed and the result showed nothing wrong. Now I did not trust this laptop, and I agreed, having no options available, that I would like to pay the 15% restocking fee and get a new laptop. In the end, I ended up paying $250-something and returned to my room a disappointed and poorer man.
To add insult to injury, we are not allowed to work and earn some extra cash during the first semester which is like four and half months till mid-December. When my academic advisor offered to give me a nice job on being told that I am a Tibetan, I was delighted. I immediately went to the International Student’s office to get the work authorization letter. To my utter dismay, my request was turned down because they referred our case back to Tibet Fund who objected to the whole idea. Our repeated pleas fell on deaf ears, and so here we are becoming poorer and poorer and looking more like Mexicans with each passing day! (I am sure you will accept some exaggeration!)
Three weeks after landing in San Francisco, I was invited to a party by friend who was living with five other people in an apartment. I left early Saturday, traveled for the first time in the BART, and arrived at my destination with not much difficulty. Everyone was welcoming and although six people lived in this apartment, it was quite comfortable with three bedrooms and one living room. At around 3pm, the party invitees started entering. Sadly not a single familiar face walked in. It was an odd mixture of sort, one that you wouldn’t see in India. A hip-hop rinpoche, a khenpo, an ex-Fulbright, a young RTYC President, several married women and their Americanized children clambering all over the house, followed by some robust looking men. Almost all seems to be born in Tibet, one or two having come straight from Tibet to America. The party started with the men drinking the ubiquitous canned beer and telling jokes but later the conversation had somehow shifted to heated debate on Tibetan politics. That went on till the last guest left. Since I was supposed to sleep in the living room where all the partying and debating was done, I had to wait till everyone left to have a nice undisturbed sleep.
Another weekend I was invited by a college mate in India in the early 90s with him and his brother, the popular singer Techung. Everyone was really informative and I really enjoyed the discussion. We drank beer, ate rice and dal and discussed about the middle way policy, independence, and some other stuffs till late in the evening. The moment was somewhat reminiscent of my younger passionate days in Dharamsala, and I felt quite nostalgic.
At least to me, America is a wonderful place, full of new things to learn, and new foods to eat. Exciting because your senses are being challenged all the time. Helped I am sure by some heavy duty religious ceremonies I performed while I was in India; I am neither feeling lonely, nor homesick. I have somehow become more confident, more frank, and not so fearful anymore as I used to be in India. Sometimes I feel as I am in India and I have to remind myself that I am in USA and San Francisco. I have to look out of the window of my classroom and see the skyline of San Francisco downtown to realize that I am in USA. I think it all lies in the state of your mind. Like Milton said somewhere in Paradise Lost, “The mind is its own place, it can make hell of heaven or heaven or hell”.
Life is strange. I set foot in USA at the ripe age of 36. Like myself, people continue to come with hopes and dreams from all over the world. They work hard, and are able to provide a better materialistic future for their children but what about them and their sacrifices? Who is going to reward them for all their sacrifices? After all, aren’t you born only once and you are the most important to yourself? Shouldn’t you be enjoying life instead of toiling ten hours a day even after living in USA for ten years? Is it worth it? What about the house that you toil so hard? By the time, you finish paying the mortgages, wouldn’t you be like history?
Personally I feel quite perplexed at the age of 36. Now am I young or am I old? I am slim and short and so I look quite young from afar but when up close, age must show because I have had quite a few students asking me how old I am. Although if you look back, you will feel 36 years just whizzed past, but if you look to the future, you think you have still some time. Do I really have the time? Or are my hopes just playing tricks on me? What if I add 36 years, the years spent to my present age, and I would be like 72 which is almost history. Who knows if death embraces me at the age of 60? Then how much year does that leave for me? Isn’t it 23 or is it really 23? Gosh, I really thought I was young. I really thought I should do something or should I? Do I have the time? Where do I go from here?
Dhondup Tsering worked as a translator in the Library of Tibetan Works & Archives and is currently studying Chinese language in the University of San Francisco. He can be contacted at dhondup07@gmail.com.
