There is a fine view from the roof of his house of the Dzong, or fort, the stately front of which seems to grow out of the rock. The windows, balconies, roof decorations and streamers have a harmonious and picturesque effect. In the middle of the structure is a red building; all the rest is white, or rather an undecided greyish-yellow colour, which the plaster has assumed in the course of time.
At the southern foot of the Dzong hill lies the open market-place, where trade was carried on two hours a day. There are no tables and stands, but the dealer sits on the dusty ground and spreads out his wares on cloths or keeps them beside him in baskets. In one row sit the dealers in implements and utensils, in others boards and planks are sold, ironware, woven goods, coral, glass beads, shells, sewing thread, needles, dyes, cheap oleographs, spices and sugar from India, porcelain, pipes, figs and tea from China, mandarins from Sikkim, dried fruits and turquoise from Ladak, yak hides and tails from the Chang-tang, pots, metal dishes, covers and saucers manufactured in the town, religious books and other articles for the use of pilgrims, etc. Straw and chaff, rice, grain, tsamba and salt are sold by many traders. Walnuts, raisins, sweets, and radishes are other wares in which there is a large trade. Horses, cows, asses, pigs, and sheep are also on sale; for the last, 7 rupees a head are asked. In Chang-tang we had paid at most 4 rupees, and a sheep can be got for 2 rupees. Every kind of ware has its particular place, but the traders, so far as I could see, were all Tibetans; for the merchants of Ladak, China, and Nepal have shops in their own houses.
| 151. Chhorten in Tashi-lunpo. Sketch by the Author. |
Most of the traders are women, and they sell even hay, firewood, and meat. They wear huge coils of hair with inferior turquoise, glass beads, and all kinds of pendants, which contrast strongly with their faces smeared with black salve. If they would dispense with this finery and give themselves a good washing instead, some of them would perhaps look quite human. What was the original colour of their clothes is hard to guess, for they are now caked with dust, soot, and dirt. But these hucksters are always polite and obliging; they sit in rows parallel to the north wall of the Chinese town, which is little more than a ruin. Now and then a mule caravan passes along the pathway between the rows, bringing new goods to market. Frequently gentlemen partly dressed in Chinese fashion ride past from the Dzong; and among the swarms of customers are seen all kinds of people—clergy and pilgrims, children of the country and strangers, white turbans from Ladak and Kashmir, and black skull-caps from China. In the market all the gossip of Shigatse is hatched; all sorts of reports more or less probable reach us from there. As soon as any one comes from Lhasa he is driven almost frantic with questions, for all take a deep interest in the new Chinese régime. It was current in the bazaar that lamas in Lhasa were organizing a bloody insurrection against the Chinese, because the latter had demanded that half the lamas should serve in the army. It was further reported that I and my companions would soon be compelled to leave the country, and that before very long the English commercial agency in Gyangtse would be closed. Every one who has heard anything fresh carries it at once to the market, where the visitors who come to hear news are as numerous as those who make purchases. In a word the market is Shigatse’s only newspaper.
Gulam Kadir told me that the two gentlemen from Lhasa employed spies, who reported daily all that they could find out about us. These men used to come as hawkers into our tents and sit there by the hour. Ma also encompassed us with spies. With the help of Gulam Kadir I set two Ladakis as spies to spy upon the spies of the Lhasa spies. We could now be on our guard, for we knew what was going on around us.
My own Ladakis enjoyed in Shigatse a very necessary period of rest. I gave them money for new clothes, which they made up themselves; in a few days they appeared in all the glory of a new outfit from head to foot. Nor could I refuse them a jug of chang daily; they very seldom drank too much, after one of them one day under the influence of beer painted his face black, and in this guise made ridiculous pirouettes about the court. Muhamed Isa happened to come home from the market just at the moment, and, catching hold of the dancer, gave him such a thorough drubbing that he never thought of painting himself again. Both Chinamen and Tibetans said that the conduct of my men was exemplary and gave no cause for quarrels. But to hear Tsering’s singing in the evening! It was like the creaking of a badly oiled wicket-gate to a shed in my own country, and therefore I listened with pleasure to his rude song. When he had sung for three hours on end, it became a little too much, but I put up with it—it is so pleasant to have cheerful, contented men about one.
Under February 19 the following entry stands in my diary: “In spite of the windy, dusty weather I have all day long been sketching various types, chiefly women, who sat for me as models in front of my tent.” The first were from Nam-tso (Tengri-nor) (Illustration 155), wore head-dresses decorated with shells, china beads, and silver spangles, and in their sheepskins trimmed with red and blue ribands looked like girls from Dalecarlia. They had large bones, were strongly built, looked fresh and healthy, and their broad faces were remarkably clean. The women of Shigatse, on the other hand, had smeared their faces with a brown salve mixed with soot which looked like tar. This mask makes them hideous, and it is impossible to tell whether they are pretty or not; the black colour interferes with the lights and shadows, and confuses the portrait painter. One had painted only her nose and rubbed it bright as metal. This singular custom is said to date from a time when the morality of the Lhasa monks was at a low level, and a Dalai Lama issued orders that no female should show herself out of doors unless painted black, so that the charms of the women might be less seductive to the men. Since then the black paint has remained in fashion, but seems now to be going out.
The clothes are always black with age, dirt, and soot. The women pay most attention to their head decoration, and the higher they are in the social scale the more profusely they deck their coiffures with bows, pendants, and jewelry. The hair is frequently so closely entwined with all this finery that it can scarcely be let down every night, but only when it becomes so entangled that it must be put straight. Those who are rich wear large heavy ear-rings of solid gold and a few turquoises, but others simpler and smaller rings. On the neck are worn chains of various coloured beads and gaos, small silver cases studded with coral and turquoise and containing amulets. Poor women have to be contented with copper gaos of the clumsy kind so common among the Tsaidam Mongols.
A woman of forty belonging to Shigatse was named Tashi-Buti; she looked sixty, for women age very soon here. Above her ordinary clothing she wore a coarse shawl over the shoulders, fastened in front with brass clasps, plates, and rings.
| 152. Portal in Tashi-lunpo. |
| 153. Group of Lamas in Tashi-lunpo. |