此诗献给狱中的丹增德勒仁波切、邦日仁波切和洛桑丹增。
西藏的秘密
——献给狱中的丹增德勒仁波切、邦日仁波切和洛桑丹增。
1、
细细想一想，他们与我有何关系？
班旦加措[1]，整整被关押了三十三年；
阿旺桑珍[2]，从十二岁开始坐牢；
还有刚刚释放的平措尼珍[3]；
还有仍旧囚禁在某个监狱的洛桑丹增[4]。
我并不认得，真的，我连他们的照片也未见过。
只在网上看到一个老喇嘛的跟前，
手铐，脚镣和匕首，几种性能不同的电棒。
他那凹陷的脸，沟壑似的皱纹，
却还依稀可见年轻时的俊朗。
再美也不属于世俗，因为自幼出家，
外表的美需要向佛陀的精神转化。
十月的北京郊外，秋风萧瑟如换了人间。
我读着在拉萨下载的传记，
看见雪域的众生被外来的铁蹄踩成齑粉。
班旦加措在低语：“我一生中大部分的时间，
都在中国人在我的国家里所设的监狱中度过。”[5]
但还有一种声音，从中可以“辨认出宽恕的话语”[6]。
戴面具的魔鬼不定期地原形毕露，
连古老的神祗也敌它不过，
反倒是一个个肉体凡胎凭添许多勇气。
谁若把深夜里的祈求变成阳光下的呼喊，
谁若把高墙下的呻吟变成传向四方的歌声，
那就逮捕!加刑!无期徒刑!死缓!枪毙!
我素来噤声，因为我几乎什么都不知道。
我一生下来就在解放军的号声中成长，
适合做共产主义的接班人。
红旗下的蛋，却突然被击破。
人到中年，迟来的愤怒几欲冲出喉咙。
纷飞的泪水只为比我年轻却蒙难的同胞难以止住。
2、
但我认识两个正在狱中的重犯，
都是活佛，都是东部的康巴人。
晋美丹增[7]，阿安扎西[8]；或者邦日，丹增德勒；
这分别是他们的俗名和法名。
就像某个遗忘的密码得以启动，
并不遥远的记忆推开在刻意回避时关紧的大门。
是的。最早在拉萨的邮局。他请求我写一封电报。
他笑吟吟地说：“我不知道中国人的字怎么写。”
他应该是我众多朋友中的第一个活佛，
一次藏历新年，我们走进帕廓街的一家照相馆，
在花里胡哨的布景前亲切地合影。
我还把他带到朱哲琴的MTV[9]中，表演优美的手印。
一个戴眼镜的卫藏女子成为他的伴侣。
他俩办了一所孤儿院，五十个孩子都是流落街头的小乞丐。
我也认领了一个，但有限的怜悯很快因突发的意外而中止。
他俩为何被捕，我一无所知，据说与某个早晨，
在布达拉宫广场升起的雪山狮子旗[10]有关。
但我得承认，我并不想了解太多，也从未有过探监的念头。
是的。几年前的雅砻江边，他凝望着在洪水中翻滚的苹果：
“看，报应来了。”他的痛楚让慕名而来的我不知所措。
他当然著名。在这个纷纷变节和沉默的年代，
走遍乡村传扬佛法的他，直面政府批评时弊的他，
是那么多农民、牧人和他抚养的孤儿心中的“大喇嘛”，
更是官员们的眼中钉和肉中刺，不拔除不足为快。
一次次精心设计的圈套，终于在“911”之后把他套牢。
堂而皇之的罪行，要借“反恐怖”的名义杀一儆百。
据说私藏炸药和淫秽录像的他，策划了五起甚至七起爆炸案，
但我记得，身陷囹圄的半年前，他难过地说：
“我的妈妈病死了，我要为她闭关，修法一年。”
一个立下重誓的佛教徒，怎会与杀生夺命的爆炸案有牵连？
3、
我还认识一位喇嘛，他教给我皈依和观想的经文。
但那天在色拉寺，他的学生对我哭诉，
正在修法的他，突然被警车带往有名的古扎看守所，
理由是他涉嫌这个或者那个企图颠覆政权的案件。
我和几个僧人赶去看望，路上尘土滚滚，不像今天铺上了柏油。
酷日下，见到的只是持枪的士兵冷若冰霜的脸。
如同突然被抓，他又被突然释放，结论是证据不足。
在劫后余生的感慨中，他送给我一串奇异的念珠，
是用牢里的馒头、窗外开得黄灿灿的鲜花和亲人送来的白糖捏成的。
每一颗都有密密的指纹；每一颗都彷佛留着体温，
诵念的佛经，九十多个屈辱中的日子。
一百零八颗念珠啊，坚实得像一粒粒顽强的石头。
还见过一个阿尼[11]，她的年纪才是我的一半。
当她沿着帕廓，边走边喊，那藏人皆知的口号，
就被冲上来的便衣蒙住嘴巴的夏天，
我正为二十八岁的生日挑选美丽的衣裳。
而我十四岁时，一心想在来年考入成都的高中。
我写的作文，有一篇献给正跟越南人打仗的解放军。
七年后，被逐出寺院的她替一位好心的商人打工。
她个子矮小，强烈的阳光下戴一顶难看的毛线帽。
“换一顶布帽子吧。”我打算送给她。
但她不肯。“我头疼，带毛线帽要好受得多。”
“为什么？”我从未听过这样的说法。
“因为我的头在监狱里被他们打坏了。”
至于点头之交的洛丹，有着令人羡慕的职业和前途，
却在一次通宵狂饮之后，独自搭车去了甘丹寺。
据说他在山顶抛洒隆达[12]时，喊了几声那致命的口号，
驻守在寺院中的警察立即将他抓获。
党的书记批示“酒后吐真言”，
一年后，拉萨街头又多了一个被关过的无业游民。
4、
写到这，我不愿把这首诗变成控诉，
但被囚禁的人，为什么，穿袈裟的比不穿袈裟的更多？
这显然有悖常识，谁不知道暴力与非暴力的界线？
果然是罗刹女的骨肉，宁肯把苦难交给自己的喇嘛和阿尼。
让他们挨打，将牢底坐穿，甚至赴死。
担当吧，喇嘛和阿尼，请你们为我们担当！
无从知道，那难捱的分分秒秒，那难忍的日日夜夜，
怎样地折磨着一个人的肉体和精神？
说到肉体，我不禁暗自发抖，
我最怕的就是痛，一个耳光都会把我打垮。
羞愧中，我替他们数着彷佛没有尽头的刑期。
西藏的良心啊，不止一颗，在现实中的地狱持久地跳动。
而在那转经路上的甜茶馆，无关痛痒的小道消息满座飞；
而在那转经路上的茶园，快乐的退休干部把麻将打到天黑；
而在那转经路上的小酒馆，腆着肚皮的公务员每晚喝得大醉；
唉，让我们快乐地消极下去吧，总比当一名“昂觉”要好得多。
所谓“昂觉”，就是“耳朵”，就是那些看不见的告密者。
多么形象的外号！多么幽默的拉萨人！
背叛与出卖，在窥探和窃窃私语中悄悄地进行。
干得越多，越能够得到丰厚的赏赐，足以变成一个大人物。
一次走在街上，奇怪地，我一下子紧紧蒙住自己的耳朵，
担心它稍有疏忽，就落入别人的掌心；
担心它也变成“昂觉”，伸向各个角落，越来越尖，
就像童话中那个小孩的鼻子，一说谎就变长。
究竟有多少可疑的“耳朵”就在身边？
又有多少不是“耳朵”的“耳朵”却被错怪？
如此奇异的人间景象，比糖衣和炮弹更容易摧毁一切。
想到这些，我忧伤地、不情愿地发现：
还有一个西藏，就藏在我们生活的西藏的另一面，
这让我再也不能写下一首抒情的诗！
5、
但我依然缄默，这是我早已习惯的方式。
理由只有一个，因为我很害怕。
凭什么呢？有谁说得清楚？
其实人人都这样，我理解。
有人说：“藏人的恐惧用手就可以感触到。”[13]
但我想说，真正的恐惧早已融入空气之中。
就像提起过去和今天，他突然的啜泣令我惊骇。
绛红色的袈裟蒙住他的脸，我却忍不住大笑，
为的是掩饰猛然被揪疼的心。
周围的人们向我投来责备的眼光，
只有从袈裟中抬头的他，当我们双目交织，
微微的颤栗，让彼此觉察到恐惧的份量。
一个新华社的记者，一个藏北牧人的后代，
在中秋之夜喷着满口的酒气，用党的喉舌呵斥我：
“你以为你是谁？你以为你的揭露就会改变这一切吗？
你知不知道我们才在改变一切？你捣什么乱？”
我的确犯规了吗？我想反驳，却从他的嘴脸看出走狗的凶相。
而更多的人，更为严重的捣乱，是不是足以被清除出局？
我彷佛听见她们用诵经的嗓子轻柔地唱道：
“芬芳的荷花，在太阳的照射下枯萎了；
西藏的雪山，在太阳的高温下烧焦了；
但是永恒希望之石，保护我们这群誓死追求独立的青年。”[14]
不，不，我并不是非要将政治的阴影带进诗中，
我仅仅在想，那囚牢里，才十多岁的阿尼为何不畏惧？
那么书写吧，只是为了牢记，这可怜巴巴的道德优越感，
我当然不配，只能转化为一个人偶尔流露的隐私。
远离家乡，身陷永远陌生的外族人当中，
怀着轻微的尴尬，安全地、低声地说：
细细想来，他们与我怎会没有关系？！
而我只能用这首诗，表达我微薄的敬意，疏远的关怀。
2004-10-21 初稿，北京
2004-11-10 修改，北京
[1]班旦加措：西藏的一位普通僧人。1959年3月在“拉萨抗暴事件”发生之后，28岁的他因拒绝出卖上师被捕入狱，随后不断加刑，受尽煎熬，直至1992年他已60岁时才被释放。之后他偷渡印度，在达赖喇嘛居住的达兰萨拉，向世人讲述了记载他苦难一生的传记《雪山下的火焰》。
[2]阿旺桑珍：西藏的一位普通尼姑。1990年因参加拉萨街头的抗议游行，年仅12岁的她被捕入狱，成为西藏年龄最小的女政治犯，9个月后才获释。又因参加1992年的示威游行再次被捕，坐牢长达11年。在狱中，她和另外13名尼姑把关押在扎基监狱（即西藏第一监狱）中的生活编成歌曲，用偷运进来的录音机录下后再偷送出去，在社会上引起极大震动，她们被称为“扎基歌尼”（在扎基监狱唱歌的尼姑）。2003年在国际社会的强烈抗议下，身体状况极差的她提前10 年获释。
[3]平措尼珍：西藏的一位普通尼姑。1989年，因“反革命宣传煽动罪”被判处9年徒刑。1993年，因和囚禁在扎基监狱的其它13名尼姑一起录制向往自由和歌颂达赖喇嘛的歌曲而被加刑8年。2004年2月24日，在国际社会的强烈抗议下，身体状况极差的她提前13个月获释。她也是最后一个获释的“扎基歌尼”。
[4]洛桑丹增：拉萨人，生于1966年，被捕之前是西藏大学藏文系二年级学生。1989年3月5日在所谓的“拉萨骚乱”中，他被指控谋杀了一位中国武警，尽管没有任何证据显示他跟这宗案件有关联，但他被判死刑，缓期两年执行。在国际社会的抗议下，改为无期，后又改为18年。从2004年起，他还将服刑10年，目前被关押在林芝地区波密县监狱。这是一所专门关押重大政治犯的监狱，有25人，一人已疯，洛桑丹增本人因遭毒打，心脏和肾脏都严重受损，直不起腰来，双目出现阵发性失明，头部经常剧烈疼痛。很多人都担心，按照他的身体状况，他恐怕很难捱到2014年。
[5]摘自《雪山下的火焰》（第十一章 在废墟中），班旦加措口述，次仁夏加记录，廖天琪译为汉语，台湾前卫出版社。
[6]摘自米沃什（Czesiaw Miiosz，波兰）的诗《吹弹集》，杜国清（台湾）译。
[7]晋美丹增：西藏康区以北的一位活佛，法名邦日。大概在1997年，他和妻子尼玛曲珍在拉萨开设了一所名为“嘉措儿童之家”的孤儿院，收留了50名在街上当乞丐的孤儿。1999年，他俩被指控从事间谍和危害国家安全活动而遭逮捕，并被分别判处15年和10年徒刑。孤儿院也被迫关闭，相当一部分孩子由于无家可归而重新流落街头。
[8]阿安扎西：西藏康区以南的一位活佛，法名丹增德勒，雅江和理塘一带的康巴百姓习惯称他“大喇嘛”。他深入农村牧场讲经传法，从事众多慈善事业，创办孤儿学校，扶助孤寡老人，修路修桥，保护生态，教育百姓戒烟酒禁赌博不杀生，是一位深受当地百姓爱戴的活佛。但2002年12月，他被当局以“煽动分裂国家”和“制造系列爆炸”的罪名判处死刑，缓期两年执行。而这一黑箱操作的大案存有很多疑点。两年来，国际社会、流亡藏人社区和中国内地的一些知识分子强烈呼吁，要求中国政府遵守法律，重新公开审理此案，却至今不被理睬。此案同时牵连当地许多藏人，其中一位名叫洛让邓珠的藏人已被枪决，还有达提等藏人被判刑入狱。
[9]1996年，因歌曲《阿姐鼓》成名的歌手朱哲琴，到拉萨拍摄歌曲《央金玛》的音乐电视，其中有几个镜头是一个僧人的手印，那僧人就是邦日仁波切。“手印”是佛教术语，在梵文中是mudra，又称为印契，指在修法时，修行者的双手与手指所结的各种姿势。
[10] 雪山狮子旗：西藏国旗。
[11] 阿尼：藏语，出家为尼的女子。
Secrets of Tibet
Dedicated to the imprisoned Tenzin Delek Rinpoche,
Bangri Rinpoche and Lobsang Tenzin
Woeser
10/2004 in Pekin
【译者为远在美国、印度等地的藏人卓嘎（Dolkar）、丹增尊珠（Tenzin Tsundue）、布琼索朗（Sonam）、丹增洛赛（Tenzin Losel ）、吉姆措（Chakmo Tso）、Guru Dorjee、Sangje Kyab，出生在台湾的美籍华人Ms. Susan Chen，以及英国人Ms. Jane Perkins。我们从未谋面，却同声相求，我用汉文写作，他（她）们则从事着将汉文译成藏文或英文、再将藏文译成英文的工作，几易其稿，反复校订。感谢他们！——唯色】
I
When I think of it, what do they have to do with me?
Palden Gyatso(1), imprisoned for thirty-three years;
Ngawang Sangdrol(2), locked up since she was twelve;
then the newly-freed Phuntsok Nyidron(3)
and Lobsang Tenzin(4), imprisoned somewhere.
I don't know them, really, haven't even seen their photos.
I only saw on the web, in front of an old lama,
shackles, sharp knives, cattle prods with multiple functions.
Loose skin, bony cheeks, furrowed wrinkles,
a recognizable handsomeness from his youth,
a beauty that doesn't belong to the mundane.
Becoming a monk early in life,
the Buddha's spirit glows in his face.
October, outside Beijing, chilly wind of autumn, a changed world.
I was reading the biography I downloaded in Lhasa,
seeing the sentient beings of the Snowland crushed
by iron hoofs from outside. Palden Gyatso in a quiet voice:
"I spent most of my life in prisons
built by Chinese in my country(5)."
And through another voice,
one can "recognize the forgiving words(6)."
Once in a while, the masked demon reveals its true face,
frightening even the ancient deities.
Yet, the challenges have emboldened the ordinary birth;
who turn prayers in the deep nights into cries under the sun,
who convert whines behind the high walls into songs spread wide.
They are arrested! Punishments increased! Life sentences!
Executions postponed! Shot dead!
I usually keep quiet because I barely know anything.
Having been born and raised under the bugles of the PLA,
I am a suitable inheritor of Communism.
Egg under the red flag, suddenly cracked and broken.
Nearing middle age, belated anger is about to blurt from my throat.
I cannot stop my tears for the suffering Tibetans younger than me.
II
Yet, I do know two serious cases of prisoners still in jail,
both of them tulkus [(incarnated lamas)] and Khampas from the East.
Jigme Tenzin(7) and Angang Tashi(8) or Bangri, Tenzin Delek;
these are their names from birth and their dharma names.
As if the forgotten password is recalled, these names
push open the high gates of recent memory once closely guarded.
Yes, initially in a post office in Lhasa he asked me
to write a telegram, saying with a smile:
"I don't know how to write the words of Chinese."
He must be the first tulku among my many friends.
One year on New Year's Day we went to a photo studio
on the Barkhor; in front of a tacky backdrop we took a photo together.
I also brought him into Zhu Zheqin's MTV(9) to perform the elegant mudras
[(symbolic religious gestures and movements)].
A bespectacled U-Tsang woman became his partner.
They started an orphanage for fifty kids begging in the street.
I sponsored one, but an incident soon suspended my limited compassion.
Why were they arrested? I don't know.
It's said that one morning something happened,
something about raising the Snow Lion flag at the Potala Ground.
I admit I neither wanted to know too much
nor had any urge to visit him in prison.
Yes, several years ago he stared at an apple rolling
in strong currents of the Yarlung Tsangpo:
"Look, the karmic result is coming."
I, drawn by his fame, didn't know how to react to his pain.
He is well known in this era of shifting sides and silence;
teaching dharma from village to village,
confronting the government on its false policy.
He is "Big Lama" to the peasants,
nomads, and orphans he has raised.
He is also a thorn in officials' eyes
and needle in the flesh; removal, the only relief.
With a pack of tricks, they finally trapped him after 9/11.
Magnificent way to accuse him, in the name of "anti-terrorism,"
punishing one to warn many. They said he hid bombs
and pornography, as well as planning five or seven bombings.
I remember, half a year before he was locked up, he was very sad:
"My mother passed away, I am going into a one-year retreat for her."
Such a sincere follower of the Buddha,
how could he be involved in bombing and killing?
III
I also knew Yoen Lama who taught me the sutras
for taking refuge and meditation. In Sera Monastery,
his students were crying and told me that when he was meditating,
police cars suddenly took him away to the infamous Gutsa prison
for his involvement in this or that attempt to overturn the government.
With a few monks, I rushed to see him;
the road was swirling dust without today's paving.
Under the hot sun, we saw only the icy faces of the armed soldiers.
As suddenly as he was arrested, so he was released
for lack of real evidence. Having survived the catastrophe,
with heavy emotion he gave me a strange rosary
made from steamed prison buns,
bright yellow flowers outside his cell window,
and crystal sugar his family sent.
Every bead is ingrained with fingerprints;
the warmth of his touch can still be felt on each of the beads
from reciting the mantras for those ninety odd days of humiliation.
All 108 beads, each one is hard like stubborn pebbles.
I also know a nun only half my age. That summer;
while she marched around the Barkhor shouting the slogan
known to every Tibetan, plainclothes policeman rushing to cover her
mouth,
I was shopping for pretty dresses for my twenty-eighth birthday.
And at fourteen, I was busy passing exams
to go to high school the next year in Chengdu.
One of my essays was dedicated to the PLA fighting Vietnamese.
Seven years later, after expulsion from her nunnery,
she runs errands for a kind merchant. She is tiny
and always wears an ugly woollen hat, even under the strong sun.
"Why not put on something else?"
I intended to give her a fabric hat. She refused:
"I have a headache, the woollen hat makes me feel better."
"Why?" I never heard such a thing.
"They beat me in jail. My skull was damaged."
As for Lobten, a professional with a bright future everyone envied,
after a crazy night of drinking, he alone got on a bus to Ganden
Monastery.
It's said he threw lungta on the pass and shouted that fatal slogan
several times. He was immediately arrested by police
stationed in the monastery. The Party Secretary decreed:
"True words spill out after getting drunk."
One year later, one more ex-prisoner becomes a vagabond
on the streets of Lhasa.
IV
Having got so far in composing this poem,
I am unwilling to turn it into an accusation.
But among the imprisoned, why do the ones in monastic robes
always outnumber the others? This contradicts commonsense.
We all know the line separating violence and non-violence.
We are indeed the offspring of the holy ogress - Sringmo
preferring to have monks and nuns suffer for us.
Let them be beaten, let their sitting wear out the jail floor.
Endure it, lamas and anis [('ani' is a Tibetan word for 'nun')], endure
it for us!
There is no way to know how they have tortured one's body and mind,
those intolerable minutes and seconds, those unbearable days and nights.
Mentioning the word "body," I cannot but shiver.
I am so afraid of pain, a slap could leave me shattered.
In shame, I count days for them, their endless sentences.
Oh, the hearts of Tibet are beating in the hell of reality!
Yet, in sweet teahouses along the Lingkhor,
mindless gossips fly from table to table.
Yet, in the gardens serving tea along the Lingkhor,
retired cadres revel in playing mahjong until sunset.
Yet, in small bars along the Lingkhor,
plump pot-bellied officials get drunk every night.
Oh, let's be happily passive; it is better than becoming an amchok.
"Amchok" means ear and refers to those invisible informers.
Such a graphic nickname. Such Lhasawa [(native of Lhasa)] humour!
Betrayals by quietly peeping and whispering,
the more one does so, the larger the reward.
It can make one big. Once, in the street,
strangely, all of a sudden I had to tightly cover my ears,
worrying they could fall into someone's hands if I wasn't alert;
worrying they could become amchoks reaching out to everywhere,
growing sharper, like Pinocchio's nose getting longer everytime he lies.
How many suspicious "ears" are around?
How many are wrongly suspected amchoks?
Who is an amchok? Who is not?
Such an absurd scene, it's more destructive than sugarcoats or
cannonballs.
Thinking of these, sadly and reluctantly I discovered:
there is another Tibet hidden behind the Tibet we live.
This now makes it impossible for me to write this poem lyrically!
V
I remain silent. I have long become used to it
for a single reason, because I am full of fear.
Why is it like this? Who can clearly explain?
After all, everyone feels the same, I understand.
Someone said: "Tibetans' fear can be felt through touch(10)."
But, I want to say, the real fear has long permeated the air, everywhere.
At a mention of past and present, he burst into tears
frightening me. His face was covered with the shawl
of his burgundy robe, while I could not control my laughter
to disguise the pain that had gripped my heart.
While people around glared at me with blame in their eyes,
he lifted his head from the robe. We exchanged eye contact.
The slightest shiver made us aware of the weight of each other's fear.
A reporter from Xinhua, an offspring of northern Tibetan nomads,
smelling alcohol-soaked on Moon Festival evening,
scolded me with his Party throat and tongue:
"You think you can find out something?
Who you think you are?
You think you can change anything?
We change everything.
Why you create problems?"
Am I really breaking any rule? I wanted to talk back
but only saw in his face the cruelty of a running dog
[(an allusion to the Chinese who worked for the Japanese during
the Sino-Japanese war and were labelled 'running dogs')].
There are more people, more serious unrest.
Would all of them be knocked out of the game?
I nearly hear them singing in soft chanting voices:
"Fragrant lotus, withering under the sun's rays;
snow mountains of Tibet, being scorched under the burning sun.
O! Rock of Permanent Hope, protect us
the youth swearing to bring independence(11)!"
No, no, I did not intend to overshadow poetry with politics,
I am only wondering, in prison, why the nuns in their teens are fearless.
Thus, let me write, only for remembrance of my pitiful moral pride.
Of course I am not qualified to find out anything, change anything,
I am only admitting to my innermost feelings.
Far from home, amidst foreigners, eternal strangers,
with slight embarrassment, safely and quietly, I say:
when I think carefully, how can they have nothing to do with me?
And this poem can only express my humble respect,
my concern from afar.
Footnotes
1 Ban Dan Jia Co (Palden Gyatso) was an ordinary Tibetan monk. At the
time of the Lhasa Uprising in March 1959 he was twenty-eight. Because he refused
to betray his teacher he was arrested and imprisoned. His sentence was later
repeatedly extended. He was brutally tortured and not released until he was sixty,
after which he escaped to India. From Dharamsala, the residence-in-exile of the
Dalai Lama, he told the world of his life and suffering in his autobiography,
'Fire Under The Snow' (edited and co-authored by Tsering Shakya: Chinese
translation by Liao Tianqi).
2 Ngawang Sangdrol was a nun, and twelve years old, when she was arrested
and imprisoned in 1990 for participating in a street protest in Lhasa. This
made her the youngest female political prisoner in Tibet. After her release
nine months later she again demonstrated and was re-arrested in 1992. This time she
served eleven years of her sentence. In jail she was one of fourteen nuns who
composed songs about their life behind bars. When a tape recorder was smuggled
into prison, they were able to record their songs. The resulting tape shocked the
outside world. They became known as "The Singing Nuns" [(written in the original
text in Chinese as "Da xi ge ni")]. Under strong international presure, Ngawang Sangdrol
was released in 2003 in very poor health. This saved her serving ten more years
of imprisonment.
3 Phuntsok Nyidron was a nun who was sentenced to nine years in jail in 1989 for "spreading
anti-revolutionary propaganda." A further eight years were added to her sentence in 1993 for being one of the fourteen nuns who recorded songs yearning for their nation's freedom and praising the Dalai Lama while inside Drapchi Prison (TAR's Prison No 1). In response to global pressure she was released on 24 February 2004, in a deteriorated physical condition, thirteen months before her sentence expired. Phuntsok Nyidron was the last of "The Singing Nuns" to leave prison.
4. Lobsang Tenzin, born in Lhasa in 1966, was a sophomore student in the
Department of Tibetan Language and Literature, Tibet University, when he was
arrested during the so-called "Lhasa Riot" of 5 March 1989 and charged with murdering an
armed Chinese policeman. Although there was no evidence to prove his involvement he
was sentenced to death with two years' suspension. Under international pressure the death entence was commuted to life imprisonment, which was later reduced to an eighteen-year sentence. From 2004 he still has ten years to serve. The facility where he's detained - Pome County Prison, Nyingtri Prefecture - is for high-profile political prisoners and one of its twenty-five inmates has
become insane. Lobsang Tenzin has serious heart and liver damage caused by brutal beatings
and now has trouble sitting and standing straight, experiences temporary blindness as well as severe headaches. There is concern that he might not survive until 2014 in his current medical condition.
5 From the internet Chinese edition of 'Fire Under The Snow', chapter
eleven, "In the Ruins".
6 From the Polish poet Miwoshi's 'Chui Tan Ji' (Chinese translation by Du
Guoqing, Taiwan).
7 Jigme Tenzin is a reincarnate lama from the Tibetan region of northern
Kham [(eastern Tibet)]. Bangri is his religious name. Around 1997 he and his
wife, Nyima Choedron, founded an orphanage, Gyatso Children's Home, which once
housed around fifty street children. The couple were accused of having acted as
spies and been involved in activities that threatened state security. After their arrest,
and respective sentences of fifteen and ten years, the orphanage was closed and
many inmates became homeless again.
8 Angang Tashi, a reincarnate lama from the Tibetan region of southern
Kham, is also known by his religious name, Tenzin Delek. But Tibetan
inhabitants of Nyagchuka and Lithang Counties refer to him as "Big Lama". He travelled
the heartland of farmers and nomads, spreading Buddha's teaching, setting up charity organizations to school orphans, care for the poor and elderly, repair roads and bridges, protect
the environment and to educate citizens against smoking, drinking, gambling and killing animals. However, in December 2002 he was sentenced to death on charges of "spreading splittism" and "plotting a sequence of bombings". The sentence had a two-year suspension and there is idespread suspicion that this case has been secretly fabricated.[(Chinese: "operated in the black box") There has been pressure on the Chinese Government over the past two years by
international monitors, the Tibetan exile community, and some intellectuals in inland China, to
apply the law and allow a fair and open retrial. The request has so far been
denied. Meanwhile, many Tibetans in the region have been accused of involvement
in the alleged bombings, including Lobsang Dondrub who has already been
executed. Others are imprisoned.
9 Zhu Zheqin, the singer who became popular with her recording, Dajie Gu
(Sister's Drumming), came to Lhasa in 1996 to produce her new MTV, Yangjin Ma
(Yangchen Ma). There are several sequences of a lama performing mudras [(symbolic
religious gestures and movements)] in the film. This is Bangri Rinpoche.
10 From the radio programme in Deutsche Welle (German Wave), 11 June
2002: 'Neue Zurcher Zeitung' in Switzerland made a detailed report on Tibet (...) The
first article is based upon the reporter's visit to Tibet. It describes the street scenes and the way Tibetans feel about themselves. The article then goes on to say: 'Yet, when we tried to get closer to some Tibetans, those confident mountain people somehow became ultra cautious strategists.' One cannot but wonder if this is their way of self denial (...) Many people are in fear; they are
afraid of the trouble that might be invited by mentioning their own nationality(...) The national flag of PRC is everywhere in Tibet. Tibetans' fear can be felt through touch."
11 In 1993, in the notorious Drapchi Prison, Ngawang Sangdrol, Phuntsok
Nyidron and another twelve nuns recorded their songs of resistance to express the
Darkness and brutality they had suffered, and to give voice to the wishes and
hopes hidden deeply in Tibetan hearts. These lines are from one of their songs, which
were to reach the outside world.
图1和图2为丹增德勒仁波切和他办的学校的孩子们（唯色拍摄于1999年6月）。
图3为邦日仁波切夫妇和他们办的孤儿院的孩子们（唯色拍摄于1997年2月）
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