Bound for Africa

Well, I am almost out the door to Africa. Quite literally as all my tickets indicate that today is the day I leave. So before I go, I thought it best to wrap up a loose end, a few final words from my Tibetan experience in India.
Here is an excerpt from my journal dated 5/21/2008...

"I'm emotionally exhausted. Day after day speakers, reputable ones from the Secretary of this to the Secretary of that, individuals who work closely with the Dalai Lama, including an individual who was part of the delegation to China 2 weeks ago. Day after day, they tell their story, the plight of the Tibetan people. It's harrowing and horrific. The human rights violations cannot be denied. Having a voice means life imprisonment, taking pictures = 10 years. People are shot/killed, women sterilized against their will, others forced off their land under the guise "that their farming has caused erosion and floods" then the Chinese build shops where fields of sorgham once were. Phone lines in monasteries are tapped. Never mind the number of monasteries that have been destroyed since the Chinese occupation. Individuals who speak to the media "disappear." With the construction of a road connecting Beijing to Lhasa, Han Chinese are being shipped in by the thousands. The Chinese outnumber the Tibetans on Tibetan soil 7.5 million to 6 million people. Chinese is the language of instruction in schools not Tibetan, not the native and known language of the people. Not surprisingly, literacy rates among the Tibetans hovers around 25% (or 40% as the Chinese claim). In the markets in exchange for goods, natives must speak the langauge of their invaders. Pictures of the Dalai Lama must not be seen and words of him and his 'clique' not heard. It's cultural genocide. It's sad and it's happening and I don't see an end in sight. At least not an optimistic one.

The Tibetan people are one of such graciousness and warmth. When running one day, I, for just a moment, lost my way (imagine that... :) and a Tibetan woman directed me to the path. Not a word was exchanged (except many thank yous from my end) just a knowingly pointed finger. Another day a group of us were shopping in town when it began to rain. A woman ushered us over to provide us with plastic bags for formely purchased paper-wrapped goods. Once more no words were exchanged, just a smile and what seems to have become my favorite phrase "tu che" (thank you)..."

And now I begin my next journey...