The following day, November 13th, we passed over two long slopes, and the night was spent at the foot of a steep and rugged mountain. On the morrow we proceeded about seven and a half miles in a south-easterly direction, along a river flowing between rocks. A gentle slope of about twelve miles was then accomplished, and the night was spent on the bank of the river. On the 15th we proceeded further to the south-east along the river-side route. When five miles were covered, we came out upon a plain, which we crossed in an easterly direction. A journey of about seven and a half miles over the plain brought us to a post-town called Gyato Tazam, where I found a far greater number of stone buildings than at any other post-town I had visited en route. I was informed that the inhabitants of the town numbered about four hundred, representing sixty families. The people differed much from the nomadic population found in the Jangthang which we had visited before, something of urbanity being visible in their manners. While the nomads are so rude and vulgar that, whenever they speak, they speak bluntly, without any regard to the persons addressed, the inhabitants of Gyato Tazam have a more refined tone in their language, though it is of course modified by the local dialect. After making some purchases in the town, we resumed our journey. Wending our way about five miles into a mountain region, we reached the bank of a stream, where we decided to pass the night.
Being the middle of November it was pretty cold, but fortunately my companions proved themselves so obliging that, on our arrival there, they went to the trouble of gathering a great mass of yak-dung, which was burnt within the tent throughout the night. As I gave them lectures on Tibetan grammar, the head priest of the party and a junior Lama were very hospitable towards me and provided me with bedding, so that I felt no cold at all. The following day, after proceeding a little less than fifteen miles over two long steep slopes, we found ourselves on the edge of a plain. We went about four miles further, and found in the centre of the plain a temple standing upon two large pillar-like rocks, which stood together and towered high into the sky. As these rocks alone are 360 yards high, the entire height may well be imagined. The temple is called the Sesum Gompa, and belongs to one of the old schools of Lamaism. Passing under the temple, we proceeded further and reached a marsh lying to the east, where we stopped for the night.
The following day we made a journey of about twenty miles through a mountain district situated to the south-east, at the end of which journey we found ourselves at a post-town called Sang Sang Tazam. We did not take lodging in the town, but encamped upon a plain in the eastern suburb, where we made as big a fire as we could, and yet felt pretty cold, especially late at night. We awoke in the morning to find ourselves completely frost-bound; indeed I wondered, at first sight, if it had not snowed during the night. Thereupon I produced a short uta, which may be rendered into English thus:
How beautiful
It is to see grass dead, but blooming yet
With frost, upon a high plateau.
[CHAPTER XXXVIII.]
Holy Texts in a Slaughter-House.
Heading in a south-easterly direction as before, we proceeded about four miles, now over hills and then across moorland, and arrived at the base of a mountain, where there stood three buildings. A strange sensation came over me when I saw dozens of sheep’s hides dangling from the eaves of these buildings. Nor was that all. They were also in the habit, so I was told, of butchering yaks on the premises. It is the custom of the Tibetans, I was told, to butcher cattle towards the latter part of autumn, and dry the meat for preservation, there being no fear of decomposition, owing to the cold climate of the country. The Tibetans esteem this dried meat as quite a luxury, and claim that it is the best food in the world. Not infrequently I heard people speak anxiously about their stocks of preserved meat in summer. I was told that autumn was the best time for killing cattle, because they yielded excellent meat after their feast upon the rich summer grass. Tibetans, however, dare not slaughter animals in their own villages, or near their tents, and the three buildings in question are used as a common slaughter-house by neighboring inhabitants. Generally the slaughter is not carried out on behalf of a single individual or family, but of the whole village. The beasts butchered on the day we visited the place included two hundred and fifty sheep and goats, and thirty-five yaks. Of the latter, fifteen were despatched after our arrival there. They told me that the cries of the yak were very strange, and invited me to witness the scene of the slaughter. What cruelty! how could I bear to see it? Desirous, however, of knowing something about the operations, I stood and watched the spectacle. Sadly and slowly a yak was conducted into the yard, two men pushing the animal on from behind. As soon as the proper point was reached, the legs of the poor creature were tied, and tears were seen standing in its eyes, as if it were conscious of its impending death as soon as it found itself in the pool of blood left by its companions. The scene was indeed unbearable. I wished I had money enough to redeem their lives, but I could see no help for it. Just then a priest came in, Holy Texts in hand, and read them for the doomed animal, on whose head the book and a rosary were placed. The natives believe that this religious proceeding will enable the poor yak to enter into a new state of existence and also absolve the doer of the cruel deed from the evil consequences which might otherwise follow. I hoped so, too, but even the Holy Texts read by the priest were now too much for my endurance. A flood of tears came into my eyes, and I could no longer stand the ghastly spectacle, but ran indoors. Presently, thump! something fell outside the doors; alas! the poor creature was beheaded. The natives handle a sharp knife so dexterously, that a single blow with it is said to be sufficient to finish the deadly work.
The blood gushing forth from the body of the dead beast was received in a pail, and afterwards boiled down into a kind of food said to be very delicious. When desirous to obtain this food, the Tibetans often draw blood even from the bodies of living yaks; this is done by means of a gash made in the neck of the poor beast, wide enough to cause a flow of the blood, but not to kill it. The blood taken in this way is said to yield much less delicious food than that obtained from the slaughtered animal. I then thought that the scene was the very extreme of cruelty, but afterwards found that I had been miserably mistaken, for I observed during my subsequent residence at Lhasa that more than fifty thousand sheep, goats and yaks were slaughtered there during the three months ending in December every year.