Preface I

TangWang

(Tea planter)

InJanuary2013,Kashgarwascoveredbywinterfog,coldandsilence.Onmywayfromtherailwaystationtotheoldtown,Icouldoccasionallyseeflocksofblackcrowsflyingupanddowninthesky.Withoutmuchdifficulty, Ifoundthe MaitianYouthHotel Ihadreserved online.Asthe ChineseNewYear drewnear,thesecond floorofthehotelwasveryquiet.Ayoungmanwithahappysmilehelpedmecheckin.Asanewcomer,Iaskedhimaboutplacesworthvisiting.HepointedtotheruinsbytheTumanRiveroutsidethewindowandsuggestedIvisitthelocalhousesonthehighplatform,saidtobeover600yearsold,butbeingtorndownsoon.Thenhecontinuedtypingonalaptop.

AfterIhadstayedinthehotelforseveraldays,webecamemorefamiliarandbeganchatting.HesaidhewasXiaolong,hadriddentoKashgarfromQinghai Lake,andwashelpingrunthesparsely populatedhotel whiletheownerwashomefortheChineseNewYear.Xiaolongwasbusyeachdaywritinghisfirstbook,whichdescribeshisexperienceandpersonalunderstandinggainedwhileridingalongtheway.Afterrestinghereforawhile,hewantedtoexitthroughtheKhunjerabPassandheadwest.Iaskedhimhowhecouldgetfinancialsupportforthistravel.Heansweredthathedidntknowhow,butjustwantedtoearnsomemoneythroughwriting.Also,hisfamilythoughthewasstillstudyinginBeijingandcouldsendmoneytohim.Ireadhismanuscriptandwastouchedbyhiswords.Hisexperiencediffersfrommanyotherpeoples,whichendowedhislanguagewithasenseoffreshness.

WalkingalongtheTumanRiver,ItalkedwithXiaolongaboutTheBookofSongsandTheIliad.Literaturehasalonghistory.ThoughtherearedifferencesinliteraturebetweentheEastandtheWest,itoriginatesfromsomewherejustlikethesourceofalongriver,withstreamsflowinginalongthewaybeforefinallyconvergingintoonevast,mightyriver.Weareluckytobeexposedtoliteratureinourshortlives.IinvitedXiaolongtomyhomein Yunnan.My study wasopen tohim. Literature isa craftthat needs sufficienttraining, meaning extensive reading.Iearnedlittleduringthefirsthalfofmylifewithmostofmymoneyspentonbooks.So,althoughXiaolongsmanuscriptimpressed me greatly, I still felt he needed to drawmorenutritionfromextensivereading.

InJuly2014,Xiaolong,whowasunabletoexitthroughtheKhunjerabPass,visitedmeinYunnanwithhisgirlfriend,Lijun,whomhemetwhileriding.Theyearbeforelast,hewenttoLhasabyhimselfalongtheXinjiang-Tibet LinefromKashgar.Talkingaboutthedangerheencounteredalongtheway,hesaidwhilehewasgoingaroundKangrinpoche,themountainwasblockedbyheavysnow.TheTibetansadvisedhimnottoclimbthemountainalone.Itwasbettertogoinagroupsohispartnerscouldbringhisbodybackifhefrozetodeath.Thesewordsleftmewithaspecialimpression.Isclimbingamountainsoimportantandsacred,whilelifeanddeatharesofragile?

WhenXiaolongandhisgirlfriendarrivedinYunnan,Igavethemmystudyfortheiruse.Itoldthem,You dontneedtogointothemountaintoworkwithme.Youcanalwaysfindworktodowhereveryouare.Youcanreadasmuchasyoulikewhenyouareatmyhome.Apartfromthetwoyoungpeople,aneducatoralsocametoourgathering.Thus,wecouldonlytalkaboutliteratureatthedinnertable.Once,afterdrinkingliquor,Ibecameveryhappyandsaid,Literatureisthegreatestfreedomhumanshaveachieved,whichisthevalueithastothem.Hearingthis,Xiaolongwasveryhappy.Xiaolongandhisgirlfriendstayedinmyhomeforhalfamonthbeforesayinggoodbye.LijunreturnedtouniversitytocontinueherstudiesandXiaolongwenttoErhaiLake, Dali, ofYunnanProvince,founda deserted cabin, and began writing his second book. He wanted to get hisworkspublished.Whenhetalkedtomeaboutthis,Itoldhimwritingwasasolitarybusiness;whetherhisbookscouldbepublisheddidnotmattertoomuch.

Weseldom contacted each other after that until one day in 2014 when he said he was on the way to ChamdoofTibetwithLijuntoteachasavolunteer.Iknewthathavingattemptedtowritenovels,hewasalsowritingmanypoems.Occasionally,hesentmesomeforcomment.Itwasnoteasytocommentonpoetry.Ifoundinhis poemsthatXiaolongobstinatelystayedwithbinaryopposition,eitherthisorthat,brightnessordarkness.Ihadheardtoomuchpreachinglikethissinceyouth,soIdonotacceptsuchadichotomyoftheworld.Literatureblendsmulti-levels,whileexpressionofemotionisoftenoverused.Italkedwithhimabouttwoissues:Onewastheself-disciplineofliteratureandtheotherwastheimportanceofrestraintintheuseofthewrittenword.Ifthereisaliterarycountry,Ibelievepeopletheresincerelytalkaboutliterature,tendingtobemorecriticalandlesscomplimentary.Inthewinterof2015,followingayearofvolunteerteaching,XiaolongandLijunvisitedmeagaininYunnan.Iwasgratifiedtoseethemeventuallymarry,astheirrelationshiphadseenmanydifficulties,butitturnedoutasfortunateforthetwoloverstocometogether.However,literature,whichboundustogether,hadbecomelessconspicuousduetothecamera.Infact,XiaolongdidntbuyanythingforhimselfexceptablackLeica.Thechildreninhisphotoswereimpressiveandstorieshetoldabouttheprotagonistswereunforgettableandunexpected.XiaolongandLijunhadfacedthepessimisticrealitywithgoodhopescherishedwithintheiryounghearts.YetI had adifferent view on volunteerteaching.Giventhis,we tried to avoidtopics about literature.OneyearofvolunteerteachingmadeXiaolongmoremature,butlesstalkative.Hewasfullofoptimismandpassionforphotography,ashehadpreviouslybeenforliterature.

IwassurprisedthatXiaolongcontactedthepresstopublishhisbook,anddidnotexpectthathewouldaskme,wholivesinadeepmountain,towritethepreface.IknewIcouldnotevadeitanddidntknowhowtowriteit.Aftercarefullyreadinghisarticlesandlookingathisphotos,Ijustwroteabouthowwegottoknoweachotherandsomebitsandpiecesofourstory.Hislanguageissimple,butradiatesthewarmthofaheart.Hisbook providesdeepinsightintothesympatheticnatureofhumanbeings.Itisabookonthehumanmind,andisaninterpretationofcompassionthatmanyliteraryworksendeavortoexpress.Thisprefacemaybedisappointing,butpleasetakeitonlyasanotherinterpretationofhisworks.

August 20, 2016

Teacher, Can I Get Out of the Mountain?

I often stood with the children on the slope outside the school to envision the world beyond the mountains. This slope was our paradise. We read aloud as if to be heard by the childrens parents at the foot of the mountain. After school, we would come to the slope to play. Sometimes, Id rush out and see their backs vanishing out of sight. Even though we said goodbye on the slope every day after school, I would still stand there each time. Goodbye, Mr. Xiaolong! GeleGele. (Tibetan for take it easy.) Some children said goodbye while running; others shouted See you, Mr. Xiaolong! even after they were out of sight.

There were a few nights when we werebrave and sang aloud on the slope. The Milky Way rambled silently in the night sky. Our singing echoed between the valley and villages, and seemed to bring joy to the people at the foot of the mountain.

Whenever I stood on that slope with the children, I felt extremely relaxed and hap- py. There was an impenetrable wall be- tween this school and other strict schools. Here, outside the wall, we happily breathed fresh air. As children of Kham, growing upon the free land, they couldnt stand a tense classroom.

In this school, however, teachers not only imparted knowledge, but in most casesalso acted as strict and fair judges. Stu- dents in Kham were very naughty, some even fought fiercely. If teachers were not strict with them, their performance at school couldnt be improved. More im- portantly, their personal safety could not be ensured. I saw a child kneeling in front of his teacher, pleading, Please, dont ask me to go to school! He was a child of the Village Head, often scared into wak- ing up because he was afraid his teacher would beat him. Before we left the school, the top student in the class wrote to Ajun: Miss Ajun is the best teacher because she has never beaten me. All the teachers laughed when they saw this note.

In Sangan, Kham (on the border between Sichuan and Tibet), family power was stressed, so people could be brutal and warlike. Several times, students from strong families bullied students from weak ones, even throwing stones at each other. When students were bullied, they didnt dare tell their parents since their family power was too weak to fight back. The only person they could tell was the teacher. Once, a student was hit on the head with a stone. When he arrived at school the next day, having noticed his wound, I grabbed a large stick. The boys who had beaten the student saw me with the stick and were so frightened that they cried. After that, they did not fight again.

Perhaps they could never get out of this mountainous area and see the outside world. What likely awaited them was this tract of land and herds of cattle and sheep. Yet most of the children admired books and knowledge. When the teacher gave dictionaries to them, they all held the dictionaries in their hands for the entire day, treating the dictionaries as their friends. Many children were still in second grade despite being nearly 13 years old, and the school only offered courses through third grade. To continue their education, stu- dents had to attend school in a township 20 kilometers away. Even before I finished my volunteer teaching, many children had dropped out of school and began their life as cowboys or cowgirls with their elderbrothers and sisters. Given these unfortu- nate circumstances, many villagers repeat- edly requested that I help their children.

To us, this destiny was pathetic. Educators tried to encourage their students to get out of the mountain or get out of the countryside to pursue personal devel- opment in big cities. However, as a result, many of them changed their true nature in big cities or even forgot their roots, another kind of loss.

We did experience the happiness of pas- turing as well. Children were in pairs and seniors in groups, singing ballads, laughing, and talking. Still, as their teacher, I hoped from the bottom of my heart that my students had dreams, hopes, and expecta- tions. When I heard someone reading the text of Lets Get Out of the Mountain, it seemed I was even more excited than the children.

My home is on the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau,

Where you can see herds of cattle and sheep,

Beautiful snow-capped mountains and pretty girls.

My teacher told me that along the crooked path,

I can get out of the mountain.

How much I expect to see the fantastic world outside.

There must be one day when your dreams come true!

Later, students not only learned to sing the song, but tried to chant words and texts.

Tibetans in Kham were good at singing anddancing by nature. When walking along a path, I often heard people singing from the mountain, melodious and sweet, lingering in the valley. Sometimes, I would sing along. Then, I would hear laughing and more reso- nant songs.

To me, life here was full of surprises and happiness at every moment. However, I was not born here, so I could neither guard the mountain ranges and rivers nor tear myself away from my dear familys deep love.

Going into the Mountain

This is a tract of land with hope,

Just as on the hopeless sea,

The first glimmer of dawn you see.

Home, is the endless field,

That is silent in water

To serve you at home like a bowl of green tea.

Trodden by broken hooves

Was the hometown of green grass.

When meeting after a long separation,

You are like a fearless army,

But I am like a timid deserter,

Hiding myself in your fatherly arms,

Like them-

The children you brought up including me.

Oh, the Earth,

Whoever can grow up without your nurture?

Going into the mountain,

We are like newborn babies,

Trying to find the homeward journey of our life.