Losar 2013 – Time For A Tibetan Pow-Wow

My children belong to the third generation of Tibetans living in the West. To keep them interested in the Tibetan language and culture, I use music as one of my most valuable allies. Over the years, the search for child-friendly songs and dances has become something like a creative hobby with Losar, the Tibetan New Year, figuring as a prime motivator and highlight where the children get to perform what they have learned during the year. We would always pep up the performances with beautiful Chupas and accessories brought from our travels to Tibet.

Much like what North American Indians do at their annual pow-wow, Losar is something like our Tibetan pow-wow: We get together with friends celebrating our heritage by joining in dancing and singing, sharing stories and eating Tibetan food that we cook together. In the process we receive a boost for another year ahead of us and the children are able to reconnect with their Tibetan roots. That's why this year too we will celebrate our New Year with all the bells and whistles. Losar is a ritualised event that keeps everyone positive and going.

I know we have been asked to skip festivities. But I believe it is not a wise recommendation. The daily stream of sad news coming out of Tibet is depressing and the hardliner response by China makes us feel helpless. In this situation, being asked to cancel New Year celebrations for the umpteenth time, could easily pull people further down instead of lifting them up. It's like twisting the knife in the wound.

Being continuously asked to cancel celebrations is scoring own-goals because we depend on cultural festivals to keep our traditions relevant. We can’t be in national mourning forever.  It paralyses our society. I don't want my kids to grow up in a morbid and culturally barren environment where all we do is shouting during demonstrations and mourning in prayers. I don't want them to subconsciously connect being Tibetan with negative emotions such as sadness, powerlessness, anger and uncertainty. If that’s where we wind up, then the sacrifice of the self-immolators is 100 % wasted.

Tibetan kids deserve to be happy, enthusiastic and self-confident like all other kids. I want to see them excelling in their Western environments, at the same time, knowing their Tibetan culture inside out. And I want myself as a parent to be able to set the example. For our kids and our culture to burgeon in the communities outside Tibet, I believe it is psychologically important to have something positive to relate to like Losar celebrations.

So here I am, sharing three songs from the broad range of contemporary Tibetan music that are fun and uplifting. I picked them for my Losar pow-wow because they don’t try too hard which is what makes them cool. They don’t have a big message. They don’t tell us: Speak Tibetan! Study hard! Work for Tibetan unity! I like these songs for this year’s Losar precisely because they don’t lecture, don’t plead nor mourn; they simply live it. 

The Losar Evergreen: Lokhor Dawa 12 - "Another Year Gone By"

"Another Year Gone By" is a Losar evergreen because it fulfills all the criteria of a perfect Tibetan New Year song: 1) It's a traditional folk tune; 2) The content of the song is really about the New Year and not something else; 3) The melody is easy, no high pitches, everyone can sing along; 4) There is an uncontrived group dance to go with it, that even little kids can master - the perfect pow-wow dance! Moreover, we can learn about the seasons, fauna, flora, and it tells us something about people's attitude and the local farming almanac. In addition, the blend between electronic music and traditional instruments gives it a contemporary touch. This song was also mentioned in Bashè Forever.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kw93-Br1FoY 

Another Year Gone By

Again it's the first month (of the New Year)

Again the willow trees are turning green in the second month

Here a little dance, hoppedeehopp

There a little dance, hoppedeehopp

Again it's the third month

Again we can hear the cuckoo calling in the fourth month

Here a little dance, hoppedeehopp

There a little dance, hoppedeehopp

Again it's the fifth month

Again the ? are ripening in the sixth month

Here a little dance, hoppedeehopp

There a little dance, hoppedeehopp

Again it's the seventh month

Again the grass is turning yellow in the eighth month

Here a little dance, hoppedeehopp

There a little dance, hoppedeehopp

Again it's the ninth month

Again the leaves are falling off the trees in the tenth month

Here a little dance, hoppedeehopp

There a little dance, hoppedeehopp

Again the twelve months of the year are gone by

Don't forget: It's over in no time, as quick as that.

Here a little dance, hoppedeehopp

There a little dance, hoppedeehopp

The Runner Up: Gakyi Luyang  - "Song Of Joy And Happiness"

The "Song Of Joy And Happiness" is always a good choice and perfect for any festive occasion. I heard other versions but the interpretation by Tseten Dolkar below is my favourite. It's not merely a funky song but has deep meaning. It honours all people which Tibetan society considers worthy of special respect. It teaches a lot about social etiquette and traditional values: Reverence for the Dharma and its representatives, gratitude towards one's parents, the value of studying hard, nurturing our national sentiment, and instilling a sense of responsibility in kids for the future of Tibet. There is a sense of continuation coming out of this song, a feeling that our people will endure. All this is packed into a musically pleasant song. The beat is a plus because kids love funky music. A minus is that it is not Losar-specific.

                                          From the album ser bya'i las dbang, 2010, ISRC CN-G02-10-364-00/V.J6

Song Of Joy And Happiness

To mark the occasion, let us all go to Norbu Lingkha Park for a picnic.

To mark the occasion, let us entertain our parents, relatives and friends with songs and dances

Let the good times roll!

Let us offer the first Khata to the noble and kind root Guru

Let the good times roll

Let us offer the second Khata to the kindhearted and sincere people of the Tibetan race

Let the good times roll!

Let us offer the third Khata to the fortunate and wise ones (i. e. monks)

To mark the occasion, let us all sing a song of joy and happiness that we could all get together

To mark the occasion, let us entertain our parents, relatives and friends with songs and dances

Let the good times roll!

Let us offer the fourth Khata to our kind parents who are always anxious for our wellbeing

Let the good times roll!

Let us offer the fifth Khata to the students who are diligently learning

Let the good times roll!

Let us offer the sixth Khata to our heart's brothers and sisters from the three provinces of Tibet

Let the good times roll!

Let us offer the seventh Khata to the future youth of Tibet

The Bronze Medalist: Sempa Gasong – "Happy As Can Be"

Here's another folksong with a face lift. Whereas "Another Year Gone By" describes farming life in Eastern Tibet and "The Song Of Joy And Happiness" in an interpretation from Central Tibet teaches us about traditional values, "Happy As Can Be" has nomadic roots. We can learn that just like the Drokpa we don't need a whole lot of fancy material possessions to feel happy. It's the simple things in life that count like a sunrise or watching animals or enjoy nature. It's a particularly relevant reminder for people in places that overboard with consumerism. Create a hip dance to go along and your kids' Western pop idols can count on some serious competition!

                                                      From the album "bkra shis dawa", 2004; ISRC CN-T05-04-323-00/V.J6

Happy As Can Be

The moon reflecting on the surface of lake Yamdrok Yumtso illuminated everything around it

As I saw the bright landscape before me, I felt happy as can be.

The sun rising over the eastern mountain peaks brightened up the whole place.

As I saw the land immersed in light before me, I felt happy as can be.

When circumambulating snow-capped Mt. Machen, we saw peacefully grazing horses and white sheep

As I saw the horses and sheep so peacefully before me, I felt happy as can be.

In Tibet, the land of the great snow, there are white Khatas fluttering everywhere

As I saw all the Khatas fluttering around me, I felt happy as can be.

If you are uncomfortable with song and dance at this time, you could use the New Year holiday to improve your Tibetan language skills, read Tibetan comics with your kids or watch a Tibetan movie together or learn more about Dharma. You could also cook a Tibetan meal with your children or teach them how to play Sho and Tibetan card games. The list is endless if we use our fantasy and prepare ahead of time. The main point is not to succumb to grief and end up doing nothing.

I wish us a merry Losar with magic moments that we can draw upon for a long time to come. Gnam lo gsar la bkrashis bdelegs, thugs bzhes lhun 'grub!

Mountain Phoenix

Related Essays

Two Songs About Tibetan Unity
Bashè Forever

Losar And The Chupa Prima Donna

We had a heated conversation over dinner last weekend about what we would wear for the upcoming Tibetan New Year.

Dolma from the baby names story, who is pregnant with her second child, was craving for some fried chicken, so three of us girl-friends took her out for dinner to this restaurant in the country side. The smell of roasted meat makes me feel nauseous but I went along anyway. Who wants to complicate things for a pregnant girl? I’m not crazy, I’d rather feel nauseous.

While my companions were munching on crispy chicken wings, breasts and thighs, I was slurping a liquid, vegetable Lasagne. Had it been served in a bowl with chopsticks, I could have mistaken it for good old Tukpa, it was that liquid.

So what to wear on Losar? Rigzin was fastest to decide. She is probably the only Tibetan female in the whole country who owns only two Chupas – one brown, one grey. No hassle either over finding a matching apron, the Pangden, since Rigzin, a die-hard single, could go without.

No idea why but among Tibetans abroad the Pangden has something to do with your civil status. In the Tsang area in Tibet, all females wear this apron - even little girls. Maybe women wear it as a secret weapon? Western girls carry pepper spray in their handbags ready to spray it at any attacker; Tibetan girls wear their Pangden - ready to flap it at any aggressor while spitting out and exclaiming: “Tui”!

Dolma joked: “Rigzin, you’ll never find somebody if you wear those grandma colors. Guys won’t even spot you in the crowd! Why don’t you wear something brighter? If you like those dreadful grey and brown colours at least opt for dashing brocade instead of provincial wool, please!”

Yeah, the thing about colours and materials! Once we had uniforms made for the staff of a small guesthouse in our corner of the highlands. We thought they turned out beautifully: Tibetan-style, yet modern, washable and practical working clothes. But the staff refused to wear the uniform. They claimed brown and grey are colours worn by elders. Just like Dolma, who grew up in a place tucked away deep on the plateau, they preferred young, sexy colours which were pink, yellow, red and turquoise – the brighter, the more beautiful; and the best is if it’s sequined.

I don’t know whether Rigzin’s simplicity in clothing style had something to do with her family background. Her parents were nomads in Tibet from the Damshung area north of Lhasa. They came to this country via India where Rigzin and her brothers were born and spent their childhood. The whole family was tall, slim and good-looking. Rigzin could have passed as a Prada model, but she wasn’t interested in fashion to that extent. She also didn’t mind if people said behind her back that she was an old spinster: “Why should I? In a way it’s true: I’ve never been married, don’t have a boyfriend, don’t date and still live with my parents!”

Rigzin was a forgiving and generous person.

Married to a Westerner, Dolma would have loved to dress up in shiny brocade and loads of jewellery but she wasn’t sure whether she would get to celebrate Losar at all since her husband would be away on business.

For Pema, the single-parent, true blue Khamo from Ganzi, and our fourth girl-friend at the dinner table, it was clear that she would wear a Lhasan Chupa for Losar. She insisted on adding the apron: The whole world should see that even though she was divorced, she was still a decent woman, which she feared would be contested by the scandalmongers if she didn’t wear the Pangden. For whatever reasons, she also wanted to go in a Central Tibetan Chupa even though she was from the East – as if a Chupa from her hometown would be too provincial or not festive enough. Heaven knows!

I was the only one who didn’t know what to wear for Losar.

Indignantly, Rigzin exclaimed: “Gosh, Phoenix! You own so many Chupas - more than all of us combined - and you still don’t know what to wear?”

Got caught red-handed.

I stammered something about the Wonju being so unpractical with the collar and the sleeves sliding out of place all the time. I didn’t want to be critical of their choice. If they feel alright wearing what they wear - good for them! What else could I have replied? That to me the Central Tibetan Chupa feels like a uniform? That I hate the multi-coloured, Tutti-Frutti apron? That I wasn’t keen on running around looking like the bhömè tsogpa?

Honestly, the way we Tibetans tailor our clothes or wear our accessories sometimes is so unflattering. Take the Kongpo Chupa for instance: Maybe that brown-bag outfit works in the jungles of Kongpo to scare off wild animals but over here those oversized, broad shoulders make the woman look like a wrestler. Add that funny looking hat with the horns and you know where the clownish-looking people in Eddie Murphy’s “The Golden Child” got their inspiration from.

Rigzin and Dolma immediately protested: “How can you say that? The Kongpo Chupa is the most beautiful Tibetan dress. “So and so” wore one at her wedding, she looked so pretty, you should have seen her!”

Okay, okay. I take that back: “Chances are it may look good on some, but not because the Kongpo Chupa is smart but because of the person wearing it. There are people who look graceful no matter what they wear, even if it’s a brown bag from Kongpo!”

Rigzin would have looked good in one, I was sure.

“Oh Phoenix, you are so hopeless! We are talking our own clothes. How can you be so critical about our own culture?”

“Well, do you prefer if an outsider criticises our culture? Better discuss internally in all openness, no?”

And so I started teasing my girl-friends.

Just because something is “our culture” doesn’t mean we have to like it. While it's great to to have clothes distinctively Tibetan, particularly because we have this political problem with China, it doesn’t make them automatically cool. Especially the guys’ Chupa: Most men in it look – sorry to say – clownish.

The exception are little boys who look adorably cute in Chupa, but it’s definitely a no-go for most grown men who want to be taken seriously by the world around them. It seems even our “top diplomats” have instinctively learned this lesson. Not that it has helped the outcome of their dealings in any noticeable way, but none of the Dalai Lama’s envoys ever wear Chupa when they are on mission, have you also noticed?

The female Chupa is a bit better although it can get pretty depressing there too. For instance, Western Tibetan women wear a Kyepdri or “hipwrap”. We know it can become very cold in the highlands but is the only way to keep warm to wrap that dull blanket around your waist and fastening it with a piece of sheet metal above your belly button? What are those grandmotherly kidney warmers doing on young women and little girls?

Not to mention the overloaded way, some Eastern Tibetan ladies dress up. All those fist-size faux corals, turquoises, ambers around the neck, and the Momo steamer lid-sized silver plates hanging from their belts… Maybe there is a weight-lifting competition going on somewhere and we just don’t know?

Amdo women from the northeast dose the accessories better but still: All that bulky, heavy cloak made from felt, trimmed with fur - real or faux – gives me the itch even thinking about them."

 
“Well, dear, people dress to keep warm, that’s their number one concern”, Pema replied, “You should know first-hand that the weather in Tibet can change abruptly so people need to be prepared. You even spent winters there and should know how cold it can get outside and that it’s not much warmer indoors.”

She was right.

How could I ever forget that keeping warm is the top priority? There were winter nights so cold I could see my own breath – indoors. And when I went to sleep, I would keep the down jacket, gloves and cap on before gliding into my sleeping bag.

One night an earthquake struck around 10pm. I had never experienced an earthquake before. Instinctively I ran out of the apartment because suddenly all the furniture around me started to dance. It was a frightening experience. I didn’t learn until a few days later that the epicentre was about 200 km to the south and came down with 7.4 on the Richter scale. Together with the other neighbours I walked around in the courtyard for two hours waiting for the aftershock which never came. After a while, when I was nearly frozen, I decided to go back inside into my sleeping bag and sleep. I decided that it was better to die in an earthquake while sleeping in a warm bed than dying from cold while trying to escape from an earthquake. That night the earth shook again several times. I woke up but was so drowsy with sleep and it was so cold outside of my sleeping bag that I didn’t care anymore if the roof would fall on me and I’d die right then and there.

Boy, can it get cold in the highlands!

My aunts wear their little fur hats all year round and even in summer when working in the fields under the hot highland sun with the sweat dripping down their foreheads. Once they went on a pilgrimage to Lhasa and when they visited the Potala, some locals ridiculed them for wearing fur hats in the summer. My mom got so upset about it, she hurled back at the Lhasans: “Don’t we have a saying? Lungba réré, kéyig réré; Lama réré, chölug réré? So where they come from one wears fur hats in the summer, what’s the big deal?” Where upon those cheeky Lhasans turned silent.

Many Tibetans also wear long johns under their pants year-in and out. And a lot of the women in Chupa wear pants underneath and long johns inside. Conveniently, those day-time long johns also function as night-time pajamas.

And it hasn’t stopped there.

“Right,” I threw back at Pema, “It gets so very cold in Tibet we also enrobe all images of the Buddha, saints and deities in our shrines with tons of brocade so they won’t freeze – and we’ve continued to do so even when our shrines stand in tropical India!”

Pema started to laugh out loud.

But all the teasing and the stories were just to cover up the absurd situation that I didn’t know what to wear for Losar even though I had closet stuffed almost to the ceiling with Chupas.

Normally I would muddle through by opting for a half-Chupa - which only looks half as folksy as a full Chupa, haha! I would also make sure the half-Chupa had such a pattern or colour that it would be hard to match a Pangden. My pre-emptive strike just in case somebody had the face to ask why I, as a married woman with children, don’t wear an apron: “This Chupa has such a crazy pattern, if I added a Pangden it would look so sangi-singi, marè la?”

But on New Year day, I can’t run around in a half-Chupa! It’s got to be the real thing, the festive thing. It had to be traditional garb.

How a life in affluence can be so hard sometimes.

To aggravate my Chupa problem, my mom just came home from another visit to Tibet and brought me back yet another Chupa, specifically tailored for me: Long-sleeved with brocade lining and a matching brocade blouse with a standing collar, golden edging and golden buttons. Here's a picture. Hallelujah!

My mom pointed out happily: “This is the latest style in Lhasa. Everybody wears this now, it’s so fashionable.”

Well, when I saw the blouse I didn’t think it was “le dernier cri” at all. I had to think of a pajama jacket instead. As if that was what I needed! How do I possibly refuse to wear this outfit on Losar day without hurting my mom’s feelings?

I’m afraid going back to my closet and doing a proper Chupa audit won’t bring any result either given that I’m full of prejudices:

I don’t like the shiny brocade: “Cheap Gyamo-style, looks like a Qipao which is the quintessence of bad taste, works only on little girls!”

I don’t like the slippery silk blouse: “It’s tailored like a box and makes you look like an Amala!”

And I’m only willing to wear that useless Pangden over my dead body: “The dowdiest homespun accessory ever!”

Although half-jokingly, if I had continued about Chupas in this way, my girl-friends may have walked out on me that evening. Imagine Mountain Phoenix, the clean and pure vegetarian, sitting there all by herself surrounded by nothing but heaps of chicken bones, deserted, and her Chupa problem still unresolved – woah!

It’s not that the girls’ Chupa doesn’t evolve at all, nor are the cuts and materials stuck in time. Especially in Tibet, the Chupa does undergo fashion trends, which I welcome. The problem is most of those creations look either awkward, are too fussy to put on, or are plain fantasy Chupas made for performance on stage and not meant for real life. Most of the time, the quality of the tailoring is also miserable.

But I still have hope.

The innovative Tibetan youth who tailors the ultimate Chupa for the modern Tibetan woman will appear on the scene one day. In addition to the traditional Chupas prevalent, there will be Chupas "prêt-à-porter" which don’t look like folksy costumes but are street-wear, practical, wearable, washable, wrinkle-free, non-iron, smart and fashionable clothes; and of course there will also be "haute-coûture" Chupas, especially designed for festive occasions such as the New Year. I would never again complain about Chupas ever!

Did somebody just say: “Sweetheart, if that’s what you’re waiting for, you can wait a long time?"

Well, when I think about it, maybe having to wait for a long time wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen: The longer I have to wait, the older I get and the likelier it becomes, I resemble a respectable “Amala”. So in the near future, that slick blouse and that homely Pangden I now find so unpractical, could suddenly become the perfect garment to match my image. Not exactly my preference but conceivable.

Happy New Year of the Rabbit!
Mountain Phoenix






































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