Through Unknown Tibet

by M. S. Wellby

We journeyed on till after sunset with no signs of Tankar; we had still followed the Sining Ho, which flowed between precipitous hills, with only space enough for the narrow track on its right bank. We were just moving along looking for a suitable camp when we found a few more Bana tents in front of us. Our reception was anything but civil, and we had some anxiety that the nomads might steal our ponies during the night, for it was impossible for us to travel along in the dark. We chose a spot on the lower ground by the water's edge, out of sight, and met with no mishap. With the first streak of daylight we were drinking our tea, and were soon on the move again. After marching for one mile we had to cross the river, which, by reason of the recent storms, had swollen considerably, and a dry passage could not be made; the water rose up over our ponies' hips, and the bottom of the river was uneven and uncertain, with big boulders.

We then entered what is called the grass country, whither the inhabitants of Tankar send their flocks to fatten. After six miles we passed a compact little village planted on the other side of the river. The land here and all down the river had been cultivated, in fact, every inch of ground. Some of the crops grew close up by the walls of the village, while others grew on the hillsides and slopes, where it looked impossible for crops to grow. Most of them had been cut, and the villagers in their blue garments were busily engaged in gathering them in.

We still followed the stream, the pathway being uneven with rocks and boulders, whilst the hills on our side rose close from the water's edge. After a short while we came to a pretty rustic-looking bridge, which invited one over the river to a snug monastery that nestled amongst the trees and bushes. The name of this monastery is Gompa Soba, and had I followed my own inclination and visited the place, kindness and hospitality would alone have been exhibited, as we afterwards learnt.

From here the road to Tankar, such as it is, passes through a cultivated district with a continuation of straggling villages and tall poplars. Being very hungry, and over-anxious to reach Tankar, the road in consequence appeared to be interminable. Perhaps this is what made Rockhill state that the distance from Tankar to Gompa Soba was thirteen miles, whereas, in reality, it is not much more than half the distance.

As we proceeded, the number of passers-by increased, and they appeared to take as much interest in little Ruby as they did in Esau and myself.

I told Esau to address some of these people in the Tibetan language, to try and find out how much further Tankar was, and any other information about the place. Many were thus accosted, and many without success, till at length we met a nice-looking elderly Chinaman, who was a merchant. He told us, to our great delight and astonishment, that there were two white doctors, one a lady, living at Tankar. He also told us of the little inn where we could get some sort of accommodation.

It was noon when we at length entered the town by the western gate, a great relief to our weary ponies. We began to ride through the main street, busy, dirty, and narrow, with a large crowd of Chinese, and a sprinkling of Mongols and Tibetans too. As we wended our way, observed by all, I told Esau to shout out in the Tibetan tongue for somebody to show us the way to the inn. Without avail we traversed the whole length of Tankar, and then tried a new expediency. We retraced our steps as far as the busiest corner we had seen, and calling a halt there, Esau in a loud voice again and again repeated the question.

This proceeding of ours naturally attracted a large crowd, and so pressed were we on all sides, that I thought it wise to back out of it. As soon as we had almost got ourselves clear, we found a man alongside of us who replied in Tibetan, "I'll show you the way to the inn." I smiled and nodded in acknowledgment of his kindness, and we moved off, followed by a crowd filled with wonderment as to where we had sprung from, especially as we were unaccompanied by any following or baggage animals.

We very shortly entered the door of the inn, which we found consisted of a very dirty square yard surrounded on all sides by stables or tiny rooms void of any furniture. Having been so far successful in finding it, the next thing was to procure food for the ponies and then for ourselves. Curiously enough, I could discover no innkeeper, for I had hoped to find a hearty welcome from the same man who had helped Rockhill, but what I considered of more importance at that moment was the discovery of a small stack of green grass at the further end of the yard. I at once went for it and began pulling out some of the grass, but this operation did not last very long, for I was caught hold of from all sides and was given to understand that the grass was not for my use. Just then our Tibetan speaking friend returned, whom I sent with Esau carrying a rupee to try and buy some grass. Now that I was left alone with Ruby we both attracted much attention from the people, all of whom, in turn, felt my hat, my coat, and my pants, to see of what material they were made, whilst others still more inquisitive felt my knees, for a Chinaman imagines we are blessed with no knee-caps. Esau was not long away, but had been unsuccessful on his errand, for no one would change the rupee because there was a crown on the Queen's head. I therefore selected a crownless one, which was more suited to their taste. This very soon produced a bundle of hay and a handful of small brass coins called "cash." This was, indeed, a windfall, and we felt we already had a firmer footing in the land. As a matter of fact, the few rupees we had left were not sufficient to pay off our Mongols, so without assistance we should have fared badly. Our friend then volunteered to run off and tell the white man of my arrival. He could not have lived very far away, for he was soon back again.

I then ordered Esau to reward the Chinaman for all the trouble he had taken for us, so Esau, straightway pulling forth his coins, offered him a single cash. To our surprise he declined it with a smile, while Esau and I remarked that these Chinese were by no means the money-loving race they were generally represented to be. The narration of our first experience in Chinese money matters caused many a laugh amongst the good missionaries we afterwards came across, for the man we had offered a single cash to was a merchant of Tankar of no small importance, whilst the value of a single cash is equal to about the thirtieth portion of a penny. One might as well have offered sixpence to a head keeper at home after a big shoot.