Reflections on HOW projects
Ladakh
"There are few places anywhere in the world more barren and isolated than the mountain deserts of Ladakh. In winter temperatures can go below minus 30 Celsius. Once the snows fall, it is not uncommon for the area to be isolated for seven months until the thaws of spring. At any time of year, the first-time visitor is bound to feel as if, in the words of the local Ladakhi people, the region is not so much in another country as on another planet. When he was appointed to the post, the current head of the local school at the S.O.S. Tibetan Children's Village said to his Director of Education: "You are sending me to the Moon!" - I know exactly how he felt. At heights of over 11,000 feet in a landscape characterised by what resemble lunar craters, landing at Ladakh's capital, Leh, is a spectacular experience. Arriving is a bit like touching down near the Sea of Tranquillity. In the crispness of the air, places known to be six miles away can seem to be within a mile. When night falls, bright clusters of stars sparkle like jewels scattered onto black velvet. More nail-biting than the arrival is the take off on the return flight. Here, the pilot seems to have to negotiate a vertical climb over the mountain threateningly situated directly at the end of the runway.
One of my most intense memories of Ladakh is a very real, tangible tranquillity that marks the lives of Tibetans in exile. You can almost touch their inner serenity. It can be seen in the prayer flags riding the mountain breeze. It is there in the sacred inscriptions of the prayer stones in the middle of the Indus as they are washed over by its churning waters. It can be heard on the wind-borne drones of deeply resonant horns from the temples and lamaseries. Sometimes, the visitor passing a gompa will hear it in the deep, full-throated chanting of the monks offering prayers throughout the day. Occasionally, a ritual offering called a puja is prepared and the traveller will find the nose assaulted by the rich, musky smell of the incense as its dark smoke is carried up to the clouds.
Nowhere is this sense of calm more strongly to be felt and observed than at the celebrations of the Dalai Lama's birthday on 6th July, the high point of the Tibetan calendar. Volunteers for the Ladakh Project usually find the period of their visit includes this auspicious day. Workshop activities are suspended temporarily while celebrations, including traditional dancing, singing and game-playing, carry on for several days. It is a privilege to be present at the feast and to see the Tibetan flag flying proudly in the mountain air of Ladakh alongside a multitude of prayer flags. There in the mountains of northern India, it represents Free Tibet to the devotees and travellers celebrating His Holiness' birthday.
I still recall flicking the rewind button on my Walkman to hear a disbelieving voice repeating back: "Well, I'm sitting here eleven and a half thousand feet up a mountain in the Karakoram range, in the Peace Field by the sacred River Indus as guest of honour at the celebrations of the birthday of His Holiness, Tenzin Gyatso, fourteenth Dalai Lama of Tibet and living embodiment of the spirit of compassion." Even as the utterance left my lips, it seemed unreal. Now, at a distance of years, it can still seem like a dream."
Dominic Williams
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