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Letter from China: monk machismo | Letter from China: monk machismo |
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Langmusi is little more than a cluster of terracotta-tiled buildings that straddle the border of Sichuan and Gansu provinces. The main street bustles with Tibetan herdsmen on horseback, Hui Muslims selling yak burgers, and red-robed monks from the two monasteries that overlook the township from the slopes of Huagai Mountain. | Langmusi is little more than a cluster of terracotta-tiled buildings that straddle the border of Sichuan and Gansu provinces. The main street bustles with Tibetan herdsmen on horseback, Hui Muslims selling yak burgers, and red-robed monks from the two monasteries that overlook the township from the slopes of Huagai Mountain. |
Jason, a Tibetan student who acts as translator, leads me across Langmusi's only bridge, which spans the White Dragon, a river whose name implies a foaming torrent but is closer to a steady stream flowing down from its source on Mount Huagai. As I look down into the water a game springs to mind: pooh sticks. | Jason, a Tibetan student who acts as translator, leads me across Langmusi's only bridge, which spans the White Dragon, a river whose name implies a foaming torrent but is closer to a steady stream flowing down from its source on Mount Huagai. As I look down into the water a game springs to mind: pooh sticks. |
We each drop a stick into the stream. My forked vessel shoots out first while Jason's floats harmlessly after and settles beside a woman washing clothes downstream. | We each drop a stick into the stream. My forked vessel shoots out first while Jason's floats harmlessly after and settles beside a woman washing clothes downstream. |
Our activities attract the attention of some local children. With Jason's assistance, I explain the game and they are soon scouring the undergrowth for branches to fashion into timber yachts. A group of teenaged monks cross the bridge and also enlist. As the entrants grow, so does the competitive spirit. | Our activities attract the attention of some local children. With Jason's assistance, I explain the game and they are soon scouring the undergrowth for branches to fashion into timber yachts. A group of teenaged monks cross the bridge and also enlist. As the entrants grow, so does the competitive spirit. |
The bridge now holds around 20 competitors and the wood stocks are running low. Fearing I will be held responsible for widespread deforestation, I change the format. I unearth a red plastic bucket from the banks of the White Dragon. The new aim is to land a small pebble inside when it pops out downstream. | The bridge now holds around 20 competitors and the wood stocks are running low. Fearing I will be held responsible for widespread deforestation, I change the format. I unearth a red plastic bucket from the banks of the White Dragon. The new aim is to land a small pebble inside when it pops out downstream. |
Few successfully find their mark in round one. I release the bucket once again. Before it passes under the bridge I witness a young Tibetan monk, his maroon robes hitched above his knees, brandishing a brick high above his head. When the target comes into range he hurls the projectile. It shatters the bucket. Shards of red plastic bob to the surface. They are met by a volley of fist-sized rocks from his monk brethren. | Few successfully find their mark in round one. I release the bucket once again. Before it passes under the bridge I witness a young Tibetan monk, his maroon robes hitched above his knees, brandishing a brick high above his head. When the target comes into range he hurls the projectile. It shatters the bucket. Shards of red plastic bob to the surface. They are met by a volley of fist-sized rocks from his monk brethren. |
Buddha speaks of pacifism but the peaceful brothers of Langmusi ended the competition with a barrage of building materials. Perhaps it's better the game ended there – lest I damn a monk to hell. | Buddha speaks of pacifism but the peaceful brothers of Langmusi ended the competition with a barrage of building materials. Perhaps it's better the game ended there – lest I damn a monk to hell. |
In the end, the only thing we dammed was the town's water supply. | In the end, the only thing we dammed was the town's water supply. |
• Every week Guardian Weekly publishes a Letter from one of its readers from around the world. We welcome submissions – they should focus on giving a clear sense of a place and its people. Please send them to weekly.letter.from@guardian.co.uk | • Every week Guardian Weekly publishes a Letter from one of its readers from around the world. We welcome submissions – they should focus on giving a clear sense of a place and its people. Please send them to weekly.letter.from@guardian.co.uk |
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