The more ancient wheels have prayers written by hand instead of being printed. Charms, such as rings of malachite, jade, bone, or silver, are often attached to the weight and chain by which the rotatory movement is given to the wheel. These praying-machines are found in every Tibetan family. Every Lama possesses one. They are kept jealously, and it is difficult for strangers to purchase the genuine ones.
Besides the rosary, which is used as with the Roman Catholics, one prayer for each bead, the Lamas have a brass instrument which they twist between the palms of their hands while saying prayers. It is from two and a half to three inches long, and is rounded so as to be easily held in the hollow of the two hands.
In Tibet, as in other Buddhist countries, there are nunneries as well as Lamaseries. The nuns, most unattractive in themselves, shave their heads, and practise witchcraft and magic, just as the Lamas do. They are looked down upon by the masses. In some of these nunneries strict confinement is actually enforced. The women of the nunneries are quite as immoral as their brethren of the Lamaseries, and at their best they are but a low type of humanity.
The only Lamas who, at certain periods of the year, are legally allowed an unusual amount of freedom with women, are those who practise the art of making musical instruments and eating-vessels out of human bones. The skull is used for making drinking-cups, tsamba bowls, and single and double drums. The bone of the upper arm, thigh-bone, and shin-bone are turned into trumpets and pipes. These particular Lamas are said to relish human blood, which they drink out of the cups made from men's skulls.
When I left the Gomba—my new friends, the Lamas, bowing down to the ground as I departed—I walked about the village to examine all there was to be seen.
Along the water's edge at the east end of the village stood in a row a number of tumbling-down Choktens of mud and stone. These structures consisted of a square base surmounted by a moulding, and an upper decoration in ledges, topped by a cylindrical column. Each was supposed to contain a piece of bone, cloth, or metal, and books or parts of them, that had once belonged to a great man or a saint. Roughly drawn images were occasionally found in them. In rare cases, when cremation had been applied, the ashes were collected in a small earthenware urn and deposited in one of the Choktens. The ashes were made into a paste with clay, and then flattened into a medallion on which a representation of Buddha was either stamped from a mould or engraved with a pointed tool.
The interior of the houses at Tucker was no better than the outside. Each habitation had a walled court-yard. The top of the wall, as well as the edge of the flat roof of the house, was lined with masses of tamarisk for fuel. In the court-yard sheep and goats were penned at night. The human beings who occupied the rooms were dirty beyond all description. There were hundreds of flying-prayers over the monastery, as well as over each house. The people, laughing and chatting, stood on the roofs watching us.
While I was strolling about some fifty or sixty men armed with matchlocks and swords appeared on the scene. I looked upon them with suspicion, but Kachi reassured me, and said they were not soldiers, but a powerful band of robbers encamped about half a mile off, and on friendly terms with the Lamas. As a precaution I loaded my rifle. This was quite sufficient to cause a stampede of the armed crowd, followed, in the panic, by all the other villagers who had collected round us. Like all Tibetans, they were a miserable lot, though powerfully built and with plenty of bluster about them.
Early in the morning I had made inquiries about provisions, and had arranged for the purchase of two fat sheep and some four hundred and fifty pounds of food—flour, rice, tsamba, ghur (sweet paste), sugar, salt, and butter. Several Tibetans stated they could supply me with any quantity I required. Among others was a Shoka trader from Buddhi, who promised to bring me, within an hour, a sufficient quantity of food to last us ten men twenty-five days. I noticed, when these men left, that two of my Shokas ran after them, and entered into an excited discussion with them. Some two or three hours later the traders returned, swearing that not an ounce of food could be obtained in the place. The way in which these men could lie was marvellous. I reprimanded my Shokas, threatening to punish them severely if my suspicions of their treachery proved to be well founded.
The Shokas, finding themselves discovered, and through fear of the Tibetans, were now again demoralized. It was no use keeping them by force, and I decided to discharge them. From the moment I had entered the forbidden country I had been compelled to protect myself against them quite as much as against the Tibetans. I reflected, however, when I made up my mind to let them go, that these fellows had stood for my sake hardships and privations which few men could stand. In paying them off I therefore rewarded them suitably, and in their gratitude they undertook to bring back safely across the frontier part of my baggage containing photographs, ethnological collections, etc. This promise was duly fulfilled. With infinite trouble I then managed to purchase enough provisions to last five men ten days.