RETURNING TO OMBU
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From the southwest of Nyima, a wide and flat road crosses over extensive grassland. It is the road to ombu-a high-altitude and very remote area in Tibet Autonomous Region(TAR).
This road offers many challenges to the traveler.
From the southwest of Nyima, a wide and flat road crosses over extensive grassland. It is the road to Ombu-a high-altitude and very remote area in Tibet Autonomous Region(TAR). This road offers many challenges to the traveler.
Dust rose from passing vehicles but soon settled to rise again in a new wave of dust. Our car, speeding onward like a spear, remained just ahead of the dust. In front of or on either side of the car wild Tibetan donkeys, antelopes, foxes, and rabbits suddenly appeared, but then either dashed away or stayed to observe us and judge the development of the situation.
Passing over the grassland, we gradually slowed down. In front of us there was a widemountain valley. The road became rough and sometimes was crossed by icy rivers. On encountering these rivers, we had to stop and carefully get out checking that we could safely cross. This was because, depending on the season, the ice was perhaps not thick enough for a car to cross over. One mistake and we would surely sink into the icy water. In such a remote area with few cars or people, the outcome was unpredictable. We needed to be highly vigilant.
Having climbed over a mountain and crossed a lake, we found Ombu waiting before us. The closer we came, the more anticipation we felt and the more hope that we w o u l d e n j o y Ombu. It seemed we were all nerves while controlling our excitement.
We arrived at Ombu Village before dusk. A crowd of villagers greeted us at the outskirts of the village. In recent years, Ombu’s fame has spread as a result of visits by uncountable vehicles. Still, whenever fresh vehicles arrive, the villagers like to give their passengers a jolly time.
It had been several years since my last trip here. Ombu village had not changed much;except perhaps that there were more houses. I was quite familiar with the village, and the earthen houses built by the villagers were shining brilliantly in the sun. Three different colours (black, red, and white) were universally adopted for the walls to indicate their religious beliefs.
We stopped just at the front of the house where we planned to stay. The owner had kindly agreed to let us stay. The family prepared buttered tea and hot water for us. Mutton and blood sausage were also being cooked. As we unloaded the car, the host’s family members lent us a hand. Though we had tried to bring as little as possible on the journey, the little car was still full without any space left. To make things worse, everybody had big cameras. Everything was moved into the host’s room but half of the room was alreadyoccupied. It soon looked packed tight. Nevertheless, we believed this might be good because the distance between the host and us was reduced.
When tea was ready, we started to drink. The taste was so amazing that the first sip made you think you were sipping nectar.
The mutton was well cooked. On lifting the boiler’s lid, a fragrant aroma suddenly filled the whole room along with the rising steam. Having spent a whole day traveling, my stomach was so empty because I had only eaten biscuits and drank iced mineral water on the way. However, the household soon made us feel welcome. The smell of cooked mutton excited our appetites like a pack of hungry wolfs waiting impatiently for fresh meat. Everybody picked up a small Tibetan knife and sliced cooked mutton and sausage into small pieces andquickly ate them.
With the first food in our stomachs, we felt our whole bodies had been warmed and soon we felt full. Then, we picked up our cameras to go for a walk.
Ombu is situated on a mountainside, overlooking Lake Dangra Yutso. This is the fourth biggest lake in TAR. On the opposite bank it is the famed holy mountain Dargo. In TAR, holy mountains accompany many sacred lakes. The holy mountain and lake in Ombu are referred to as a couple. There are many current stories about them. My guess was that Lake Dangra Yutso is the wife of Mountain Dargo. I did not question the locals about this because I was afraid to destroy my dream. Although it might be not important at all, it was, at least, a nice idea.
I believed it was so because I wanted to believe it.
I wandered into the village. No matter where I went, the holy lake and mountain were always in sight. I was followed by a group of children, so I gave them candies, small mirrors, toy parachutes, and small balloons that I had brought with me for this trip. The children showed their pleasure in their happy faces.
And what lovely children they were!
Suddenly, my eyes were shining: I saw an elderly man with bare arms sitting in a small lane; he was taking sunbath. He looked about 70 years old with a white mustache. A fox leather hat sat on his head and two tiny pigtails hung down casually on both sides of his neck to his chest. Against the yak leather robe around his shoulders, his bare skin looked like fired copper. Though he was slim, he still looked fit and well; I believed he was an honest and attractive old man.
He said: “If you want to photograph me, you must first pay me.”
I was overjoyed. This was the first person in this village to ask me to pay for photography. Though it was not much, only five Yuan, it was fair. But what I felt was interesting was that, in such a small village in Ombu, the first person to charge me was the last I would have expected. As matter of fact, on this trip, no one had charged me for photographs.
After I gave him what he asked, he immediately positioned himself in different poses. He looked like a giant puppet, which made me laugh so that I could not keep shooting him. Seeing me so cheerful, he was happy too. He became excited and looked like a small naughty boy, which was actually quite delightful. His happiness made me feel dissatisfied with my own life. The purpose of a human being to live in this world is to be happy. He might even be a better man than me because of his more profound understanding of the importance of happiness.
I was not yet aware that a middleaged woman was watching us from the mountainside. Maybe she had been there for long time. People frequently came to visit from outside of the village but the locals always, to some extent, accepted strangers. forgotten what she was holding in her hands (a teapot) and just stared at me and spontaneously burst out laughing. Of course, I did not actually hear her laughter. In fact this did not matter to me because when my camera targeted her she did not evade it-many women dislike being photographed. What really attracted me to photograph her was the old-fashioned military hat on her head. In urban areas this kind of hat had not been seen for decades. However, she clearly cherished it by putting on her head. All of a sudden, I felt that this was history disappearing and that it was necessary to record it. My camera focused on this woman.
Children followed me and asked me to take their photos. Some children were keen at first but became embarrassed and ran away; others might have been mimicing their mothers in refusing to allow me to photo them. I often hear that the reason why people dislike to be photographed is because they are afraid that the camera would steal their souls (particularly, women and old men). Of course, facing such opposition I would definitely not force them; one reason is because I respect them and the other is because I also believe in natural poses. Without this natural approach, everything becomes rigid and surely results in unsatisfactory images.
The sun was hanging over the west side of the mountain and the lake had already frozen. The lake was not blue and even the west sky was not transparent. Lake Dangra Yutso and Mountain Dargo were caught in the shadows of dusk. It seemed that they were all captured in a huge black net and could not escape. Only the last sunlight on the edge of the sky was still trying to light Lake Dangra Yutso through a tiny slit.
On visiting Ombu again, everything was so familiar- like an old acquaintance of mine. It was all so amicable and I was touched. I have not visited Ombu for long time yet it made me feel again the warmth of human kindness and also the splendor and beauty of the land.
When it was dusk, I walked to the host’s house along a narrow lane. I suddenly had a feeling of loss though I had no idea why. Maybe it was just because again I must soon leave the holy Mountain Dargo and Lake Dangra Yutso.