“As it is a means to deliver your person from death,” said the servant, “I request you by all means to accept the suggestion.”
I ended by giving my consent, but with an air of great reluctance. The inn-keeper was delighted and hurried away; in a short time he returned with another man, who took me to a black-looking house. All the houses here look black; the reason is that they are made of turf cut up, like bricks, into sections of fourteen inches in length, seven inches in breadth, and three inches in thickness, dried and consolidated. It is very durable though not as hard as brick, and houses constructed of this material only are liable to be blown down by the wind. In order to protect them from falling, posts are inserted here and there. With the exception of one stone edifice, nearly all the buildings here are made of this material. It seems to me that, as the mountains are very far off and consequently great expense is required for the transportation of stone, turf is selected as the only material for the construction of houses. With the exception of one or two houses, all are only one storey high, quite the reverse of what I found at Lhasa. In the case of a two-storied building, only the lower storey was made of piled stones, and the upper one of turf: this is owing to the danger of the second storey coming down. I was conducted to such a two-storied house, where I only felt the pulse of the patient, who after a little while felt quite well again. The patient was the daughter of the house, and her disease, as in the first stage of either nervous trouble or consumption, was a feeling of melancholy, which kept her always in her room. Taking out a little quantity of medicine I gave it to her and also suggested to her to go to the temple to worship the Boḍhisaṭṭva Avalokiṭeshvara day and night, and then went back to my lodging. After a little while, the inn-keeper came to my room to express his thanks for the trouble I had taken with the patient, who had greatly improved.
“It is very hard here,” said he in answering to my request for a witness for the passport I wanted. “What do you intend to do, Sir?”
“I am greatly perplexed about it;” answered I, “but anyhow I must get someone as my witness. I am ready to pay a proper amount of remuneration for it.”
“The Government forbids us,” he said, “to act as witnesses for others, so I shall take you to a person who may act as your witness, and tell him the circumstances. If he consents you need have no fear of being made to pay an improper amount of money.”
He then took me to the house of a man who was ready to become my witness. This man was, contrary to my expectation, not a bad man; but it is customary for a Tibetan to extort money from anyone who wears good clothes. Notwithstanding my forbidding my companions to talk of my position and rank in Tibet, he told the other person that I was the venerable physician of Sera, and the Dalai Lama’s physician. As soon as he heard this, he instantly consented to become my witness.
“No remuneration is required,” said the man, “except a rupee and a half, necessary for the process. It may not be possible to get a passport at once. Whether the conference can be held to-morrow or the day after to-morrow, is not known; yet, I shall request them to hold it as quickly as possible. In that case, you may leave here within four or five days; but, as it will cause delay if a written petition is not presented to-day, I shall take you to the official at once.”
The gate-house is constructed among the houses of the common people at the foot of the castle. There was no room in it for holding a conference. There were fourteen or fifteen officials; but I could not tell whether there were any superior officials there or not. In Tibet, delay is the rule, and even though all the officials are present they never hold a conference, and sometimes will delay matters for four, five or even ten days. This is done merely to extort as much money as possible; the passport is given sooner or later according to the amount of the bribe. On the advice of my witness, I handed in my written petition to the most dignified-looking man among the officials.
“Of course to-day,” said he, “no conference can be held; about the day after to-morrow we shall open the conference; and on that occasion I shall give you an answer any way. You need not come here; send the inn-keeper to hear the result of our conference.” The meaning was that, if I should send the inn-keeper on the appointed day, he would tell him that a passport could not be given on that day, but that if I offered so much money, it would be given within five days. Even this is the result of much bribery, as it would otherwise take eight or ten days to get it.