In times where the Dalai Lama is thinking of resigning of his political function, here is a selection of our recent work about the current situation of Tibetan refugees in Dharamsala, Northern India.
This bustling little settlement is the heart of the Tibetan Diaspora. Situated in the pine-covered mountains of Himachal Pradesh, it hosts the official seat of the Central Tibetan Administration and the residence of the Dalai Lama.
In 1959, His Holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso, followed by more than 80,000 Tibetans, fled Chinese oppression and came to India. According to the latest census of the Tibetan Demographic Survey (TDS) in 2010, there are 13,701 Tibetan refugees living in Dharamsala, 109,015 in the Indian subcontinent and 127,935 worldwide.
Over the years, Dharamsala has become a major pilgrimage and tourism centre where fluttering prayer flags and saffron robes meet cappuccinos and souvenir stalls. While all Tibetan refugees are very thankful to India, many of them live an uncomfortable situation: a feeling of transitory status, in limbo.
“Here, we have everything we have been fighting for, except the freedom. But we are in India and it is not where we belong. In everyday life, I feel that I have a responsibility,” explains Kunsang Tenzin, 24, the director of the Tibetan Hope Centre. In May 2007, he co- founded the centre to provide English conversation and grammar lessons for all levels. “Being in exile is a unique opportunity for Tibetan people to learn about Tibet and about the world. Here, we have access to information.”
Lobsang, (assumed name), in his mid-forties, has another point of view: “I feel very ashamed. When I was in Tibet I took high risks to inform the tourists about the situation. I was politically involved. I thought that in India, Tibetan refugees did the same. In fact, they just come here to be sponsored by foreigners and dream to go abroad. Once away, they forget about the cause. They should come back to share their knowledge. We are lacking of specialized people. We produce nothing.”
From dawn till dusk, hundreds of small souvenir stalls invade the narrow streets of the settlement selling cheap jewellery, woollen socks and Tibetan artefacts. The average income of a refugee is hardly 60USD a month, just enough to pay the rent of the room amongst other expenses. Despite a busy daily life, people of every age accord a great importance to religion. Fancy-looking teenagers, women wearing the traditional chupa robe are joined by elders making offerings or prostrating themselves at the Tsuglagkhang Temple.
The Tibetan community’s major concern today is safeguarding its traditions. Actively involved in preserving this heritage are various organizations as the Tibetan Children’s Village, the Library of Tibetan Works and Archives, the Tibetan Institute of Performing Arts, or the Tibetan Handicraft Centre.
“I want my children and the future generation to know about the real Tibetan history,” said Dolma, a dynamic 22-year-old woman wearing a hoodie and a pair of stonewashed jeans.
The principal reasons for Tibetans to escape from Tibet are educational, religious and political. Braving the snow-capped mountains of the Himalayas, they often walk up to one month on hazardous paths until they finally reach Nepal. Yet their fleeing has been made even more of a struggle. The Tibetan Reception Centre of Dharamsala is almost empty. Built to host up to 600 people, this brand new US sponsored complex, shelters today only 38 persons.
“The decrease of incoming refugees is partly due to the consequences of the dramatic events of March 2008 in Tibet. Chinese authorities have intensified the controls of the moving local population, making the journey to Lhasa and a future escape from Tibet extremely difficult.
Moreover, the situation in Nepal is not as safe as it used to be. The outcome of the refugees is uncertain until they have reached the Tibetan Reception Centre of Kathmandu,” explains a Tibetan government-in-exile official.
“How long will the exodus last? My deepest fear is the passing of His Holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama. What will happen to us? Will India still accept our presence? Our future is more than uncertain…” The anxiety of Thopchoo, 37, former political prisoner, is a dominant feeling within the Tibetan community.
Summing up this angst, Karma Tsetan, 67, cannot hide his sadness and disillusion. This old man is now staying at Jampaling Elders’ Home. Arriving in India in 1959, he was full of hope. “When I was young I thought that Tibet could be an independent country. In fifty years nothing has changed. I will never see my family again. Everything is over.”
The younger generation, however, tries to find alternative solutions. Many young Tibetans apply for an Indian passport – expensive and hard to get – which brings them the security to stay in India whatever happens in the future.
In a bright yet cosy room, Nyima, 24, answers the phone. Her husband, Justin, an American Buddhist is calling from Boston. In May 2010, this young couple got married. The desktop of her MacBook Pro displays a colourful image of the newly-weds wearing traditional Tibetan clothing.
“I grew up with the yaks!” tells this forthright woman. “I come from a nomadic family. We were nine children and only two of us could go to school. At least now I am learning Tibetan and English. Every day, I try to improve my skills.” Nyima will move next year to America. She hopes to raise enough funds to set up a school in her village in the U-Tsang province.
“Thanks to my new citizenship, I will be able to visit my family.”
