The amusement which always causes much mirth among Tibetans is tobogganing. They do not always indulge in it as a sport; but when opportunity offers, for instance, to save themselves the trouble of long and steep descents on snowy mountain slopes, they greatly enjoy the fun. I have seen Tibetans slide on their backs at a terrific pace for a hundred or two hundred yards down precipitous inclines, laughing and yelling, with their heavy sheepskin coats collected in front, and their legs up in the air except when required for steering purposes.
Tobogganing made easy
With the exception of the above, I do not recollect seeing any other national sport; nor, as a matter of fact, do Tibetans indulge much in sports of any kind—partly owing to the great altitudes which they inhabit, where violent exercise leads to considerable personal discomfort and suffering; partly because of a somewhat depressed nature. Although not always devoid of considerable humour, [[163]]the Tibetan can seldom be roused from his normal sulkiness and made to put forth superfluous exertion either for his own delectation or that of others.
Also, the nomadic existence which he leads from one end of the year to the other, is full of ever present wild excitements and surprises. He often travels over snowy passes several thousand feet higher than the highest mountains of Europe, where precipices and avalanches and land-slides or falling rocks are of daily occurrence, and any devised sport becomes in comparison rather tame and uninteresting.
Naturally, there is no such thing in Tibet as training to be an athlete, nor are the few sports and games specially taught to the children. They are merely picked up from one generation to the other by imitation. The Tibetan is extremely hardy and wiry.
Amusements which are the result of prosperity and happiness are not plentiful in Tibet. Playing cards and dice and a primitive sort of chess, and one or two more elaborate games imported from China and Nepal, are occasionally to be seen; but perhaps the most interesting to us is their dancing, notably their war-dances, curious in people so little martial. With a sword in one [[164]]hand and a kata in the other, and with the knees bent, the dancers keep time to the beating of a double drum and the clapping of hands from the spectators. They attempt some more or less clumsy revolutions on their heels, but the movements of their arms are quite graceful. Alternately each bent arm is raised in front of the head, while the other is held far back, and they manage to give a pretty semi-rotary twist to both forearms and hands when they have reached the highest and lowest points respectively.
As the dancers and musicians get excited the movements of the arms and legs are greatly accelerated, and some of the best dancers can move their limbs so quickly that on looking at them one’s eyes get confused to such an extent that only a shapeless moving mass is distinguishable. Owing to the rarefied air, they cannot, however, keep this up very long, and, panting, their lungs in convulsion and eyes bulging out of their sockets, they abruptly end the dance with a suggestive and humorous—often too humorous—posture, or else with a leap in the air, doubling up the body and resting the head upon the knees before the feet touch the ground again.
Tibetan Dance with Sword and Kata (Veil of Friendship)