Next we have a religious lady praying before a tent shrine, turning her back to us and displaying in its full glory her Tchukti—that is to say, three broad bands of three sections each alternately blue and red. These bands of heavy cloth reach from the shoulder to the feet, and they are ornamented with coral or malachite beads, silver coins and bells, and at the lower end a row of little brass or silver bells is generally attached. Nearly all the money earned by the woman (and frequently that of the husband) is sewn on to the Tchukti, so that the family fortune—when this fortune exists—hangs down women’s backs to a number of neat little tresses of the woman’s hair to which it is attached. When the Tchukti is worn the hair is parted in the middle and plastered down with melted butter. [[169]]
Last, but not least, you will find the portrait of a Tibetan old lady, who somewhat resented being sketched and had not her sweetest smile upon her face. Rather bony and toothless, with a wrinkled skin which would put to shame a crocodile, one leg stretched out because she had a rheumatic pain and could not bend it, she used quite bad language when I quickly portrayed her. She predicted and wished misfortunes of all kinds which should descend upon me.
Perhaps you will notice, in most of the illustrations representing Tibetans, that the people depicted in them have their eyes half-closed. This is one of the most characteristic points about a Tibetan face, especially when out of doors and conversing. First of all, as you know, the Mongolian eye is elongated between heavy lids, and does not afford an extensive view of the iris at any time; then, owing to the intensely brilliant light, the severe and constant winds, and plentiful snow, the natives get into the habit of accentuating the squeezing of the eye-aperture for protection. This causes crow’s-feet to appear on men and women at an early age, and a much corrugated forehead and brow.
I had occasion on this journey to pay a visit to [[170]]a quaint tribe of Tibetans calling themselves the Kam-par, or people from Kam (Tibet). They possessed extraordinary features—from intermarriage with some tribe of Nepal, I should think—intensely cruel faces in many instances; others quite refined, especially those of the better class. The young man whose portrait I give, very girlish-looking, with an elaborate hat ornamented with gold embroidery, was the son of the chief, and quite a nice-looking boy, with suave manners and a humble voice. He had long hair in waves upon his shoulders, and a short pigtail behind. But some of the older men, such as the one I portrayed, had brutal faces, and their manner was somewhat coarse, sulky, and blunt. They possessed highly developed cheek-bones, slits of eyes, and prominent drooping lips. The nose, however, was more developed than on other Tibetans.
Woman and Child praying before a Shrine inside a Tent
These people, like most other Tibetans, practise a form of cannibalism which is not at all uncommon in Tibet, especially in their funeral ceremonies. The Lamas, as is well known, often drink human blood out of bowls made of human skulls.
This tribe, a nomad one, was, among other employments, given to a certain amount of brigandage; [[171]]and, in fact, among them I found a well-known brigand—a long-lost friend of mine—whose portrait I also give in these pages. He possessed quite a striking-looking head, with a good deal of determination upon his features, a fierce moustache, and masses of curly hair trimmed straight at the height of the shoulders. He always shouted at the top of his voice whenever he spoke; always heartily laughed at everything you said; and, to show his approval, struck you upon your shoulder with his ponderous hand after each sentence. He was one of the most powerfully built men I have ever met, his strength being quite extraordinary; and, for a brigand, quite an agreeable companion out of business hours.
Polyandry, when the wife is shared among brothers, as is the case all over Tibet, is practised by this tribe also; and when I met them they were employed in conveying salt and borax, from Gyanema over the Darma Pass into India. These Kam-par occasionally travel as far down as Tanakpore, the borax and salt being carried entirely on sheep-back.
When one got over the peculiar expression of their faces, the Kam-par were amiable enough.