By Andreas Lorenz and Wieland Wagner
Chinese leaders in Beijing are using police and propaganda in an attempt to defuse tensions in the western provinces of their huge country. The government sees Tibetan monasteries as key potential pockets of resistance, including centers of spiritual contemplation like Xinsi that have not taken part in the recent unrest.
The Xinsi Buddhist monastery lies to the west of Xining, the capital of Qinghai Province, surrounded by a breathtaking landscape of snowcapped mountains. Some one hundred monks live here in mud houses, including many children.
A seriously ill man lies in front of the prayer hall, wrapped in coats and blankets. Inside, lamas are sipping their noon meal from small bowls. On the altar of the temple is a photo of a living Buddha. “He slipped away to India,” whispers a monk. “He was recognized by the Dalai Lama.”
No wonder the authorities eye the monks with suspicion, even though virtually no one would take notice of a protest or demonstration in this sparsely populated area. “They keep us under surveillance day and night,” says one as he glances furtively over his shoulder.
Immediately following the uprising roughly 1,200 kilometers (745 miles) away in Lhasa, the Chinese sent an official to the monastery to keep an eye on the monks. The man introduced himself as a representative of a “working group” from the local party office and referred to recent events in Tibet. “We have to maintain stability here,” he says, adding that journalists are unwelcome in Xinsi.
The party man does permit, however, a short visit with the living Buddha of the monastery. His name is Dorjee Xianbaluosanlongduojiansan and he is 32 years old. If he weren’t wearing a monk’s robe, he would look like one of the wild motorcycle youths in Zeku. Dorjee is crouching on the floor. He has a mobile phone in his robe and is busy working on his computer. A photo of the Dalai Lama has been placed in a cabinet and the room also has a TV. The monks recently tried to set up an Internet connection. But it was too expensive, they say.
A child refills the cups with butter tea. Under the watchful gaze of the party functionary, a conversation cautiously takes shape, and the most important things have to remain unsaid. Nevertheless, the monk clearly conveys what he thinks -- with a smile, a grin, or a quick shake of the head.
“What do you have to say about the events in Tibet?”, the reporter finally asks. The living Buddha shows his white teeth and doesn’t say a word. His assistant glances to the official, the lama, and the guest. No one answers, the interview is over.
A few minutes later, the police arrive: a Tibetan colonel, badge number 030403, accompanied by a plainclothes associate named Dong. “You have to leave the monastery,” says the colonel. “We are here to ensure your safety -- this is a precautionary measure.”
Is the area around Xinsi dangerous? No, answers the officer, but he says that they have information concerning “unstable factors.” Now the monks stop smiling. They are still allowed to give a tour of part of the monastery, but then the colonel loses all patience. He storms into the prayer room and throws the visitor out. The monks glance up from their bowls with a shocked expression on their faces.
The intense edginess of the Chinese government is also palpable in the city of Xining, with its mixture of dilapidated apartment blocks and chic new skyrises. For "security reasons," taxis are no longer allowed to carry Tibetan passengers.
The railway station square is filled with police. In the building itself, in front of the counter where tickets are sold for Lhasa, three officers have set up a table and a computer and are checking all passengers. Everyone who they believe has no good reason to travel to neighboring Tibet is turned away. Their decision is final.
Near the railway station, life goes on as if nothing had happened. Monks and other Tibetans stock up on nomadic tents, prayer wheels, carpets, jewelry and traditional clothing. A nomad in a green fur-trimmed jacked examines a tent.
Tibetans have also protested in his home town in western Qinghai, burning cars and destroying shops, he says. Han Chinese and members of the Muslim Hui community have also been attacked, and he adds that the police have shot 10 to 20 people. “Afterwards, a large number of troops were deployed there from Lanzhou,” he says.
Although he has achieved a measure of prosperity during the past few years, he also feels “oppressed” by the “big country,” as he calls China. He feels that the Chinese take too much money from Tibet. “We have natural resources, medicinal herbs, animals. If we were independent or autonomous, we could handle these business activities ourselves.”
This nomad is also familiar with the allegations from Beijing that the Dalai Lama has instigated the unrest. He thinks that it’s nonsense. “We won't let them drive a wedge between us and the Dalai Lama,” he says.
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