Help, Pubescent Teenager!

Our first-born has been noticeably moody lately, also impatient and – which worries me a bit – easily irritable. Not like the kid at all. Temper tantrums were alien. Neither as infant nor toddler were there outbreaks of anger or impatience, absolutely never in all the twelve plus years. We parents must have subconsciously got accustomed to it. We were never seriously challenged. The kid was always happy, balanced, obedient and naturally disciplined. Tibetans call such a person Lama Kunchog: good-natured and peaceful - but also somewhat innocent. It's not always used as a compliment.

The contrary of Lama Kunchog I would say is kha gyagpa or "thick-mouthed" – someone who is brazen, talks back and is difficult to control. With puberty setting in, things around our home were becoming a little different: A little louder sometimes; more explanations were necessary, more arguments and also more patience to handle the adolescent mood swings. Sometimes when our offspring would gravitate too heavily towards kha gyagpa we parents had a hard time not responding with anger. The kid had simply made it too easy on us all this time.

My colleagues from work with children in this age range say kids are simply testing how far they could go and that we needed to set boundaries. They said it's good as parents to air the anger so things can clear up and can calm down again. I am not sure that's a good idea at all. Setting boundaries, of course but the more one resorts to anger, the easier anger arises, that's my unholy feeling. It's contagious and pollutes the entire atmosphere. In a peaceful moment I tried to emphasize to my pubescent housemate what the Lama taught: One moment of anger can destroy all the wholesome karma accumulated over time. - Do we want to be the Tibetan Sisyphus creating our own Samsara over and over again?

When the local school invited parents to a lecture on "puberty"I decided to attend. Any clue on what could be going on in the mind and body of an adolescent was more than welcome for a perplexed mother and father. The lecture included an interesting section about biochemical processes in the body of the adolescent triggering unacceptable behavior and "not yet fully developed brain areas" accounting for extreme responses. That shouldn't serve as an excuse but it made us more aware of the things going on in their bodies which could cause behavioural outliers.

Then followed a question round: How did we parents remember our own puberty? One woman said she regularly fought with her mom until the latter cried. It was her goal to make her mother cry, the woman added. I would have been embarrassed to disclose something like that in front of a group of aliens. What could I report? When nothing came up I noticed on the way home that my own puberty or adolescence was a total non-event. I remember sitting in my room a lot because I wasn't allowed to hang out with friends in my free time. My dad disapproved of khyamdepa, the Tibetan equivalent of "roving about" and he didn't tolerate the faintest attempt of back talk. Moreover I, as the girl among the three children, had to be protected from what I guess could only have been an unwanted pregnancy. The best method, my working parents thought, was to restrict my mobility.

There were no computers when I was growing up, only typewriters; there were no games or smart phones and TV was restricted to certain hours and programmes. The highlight of my week was a trip to the library which became my temple and refuge. Reading about Tibet became a favourite pastime or about communism, socialism, revolutionaries, history, oceanography, palaeontology, archaeology, occultism, astronomy – I borrowed books from almost every topsy-turvy topic they had. One day when I borrowed a book about Konrad Adenauer, the first post-war chancellor of Germany, the librarian knitted his brows. Whether that is a suitable subject for a fifteen-year old? He didn't have the faintest idea: It couldn't be more boring than sitting in one's room doing nothing!

My dad kept me on this short leash between twelve and eighteen years. Same-aged friends used their freedom to spend time outside their home experimenting with alcohol, cigarettes and romantic liaisons. With my restriced radius, growing up took place mainly inside my room and more specifically inside my head. Of course my dad knew he couldn't uphold this situation of semi-house arrest forever. But when I was finally granted the freedom of spending the night away in a club or hang out in a bar, it turned out to be boring; dancing was okay for one hour or so but the whole night? And hanging out in a bar was plain torture if you weren't into alcohol. As for romantic liaisons, they just didn't "happen" - probably because all the reading had turned me into an opinionated egghead, who knows. My sobering conclusion after my newly found freedom:  I actually hadn't missed a thing the last five years because I didn't fit in to begin with.

Complete trust from my dad and freedom set in after the sometimes lonely years where books were my best friends. I was his oldest child and after I turned eighteen, my dad began to treat me on par with other adults, even listening to my views and engaging in a serious discussion. Before, discussions were mainly a paternal monologue with the children expected to listen. In post-puberty time however, he never played the Tibetan-father-authority-card again nor did he try to influence me. Certainly our views on many topics diverged more than they converged. With youthful fervor I would argue and he would sometimes exclaim in frustration, "You should become a professional critic! You must always have the last word!" But never again did he try to impose his wish.

He let me run free even if that gave him a hard time. It was the logical result of his education style: Shape their character as long as you can; when they are old enough to think for themselves, let go. To teach us how to think for ourselves was one of his prime parenting goals. When we couldn't explain why we had done something the way we did, our dad would unleash one of his notorious slogans on us. "The Tibetan people are like oxen," was one of his favourite phrases, "the farmer pulls them in this direction, they go in this direction; the farmer pulls them in that direction, they go in that direction." He said it with contempt and it used to make me angry. Among all his phrase-mongering this one was the most annoying because I found it disrespectful of the Tibetan people. As if he were something better. But as with many of his initially annoying comments, with time this one too was not without truth.

Meanwhile all kinds of crazy ideas had got into my head from the indiscriminate reading during my years under "house arrest". I boycotted bananas from big colonialistic and exploitative fruit companies, only eating politically correct "Nica bananas" from Nicaragua which was economically suffering at the time because of what I thought was an unfair trade embargo. I carried my school books in a scratchy bag that had "jute not plastic" written over it to protect the environment and alert others to do the same. And I wore clothes as unfashionable as possible: My friends from school and I were fully behind the women's movement and according to our teenage understanding, fashion was a sign of non-emancipated, brain-dead bimbos.

The other day I saw an article about Emily Lao, a prominent Hong Kong politician of the Democratic Party, who was confronted by students for going to the hairdresser while the youths were holding out in the streets demonstrating for more democracy. How come she had time for a decadent haircut in the face of such anguish? It could have been me asking this uncomfortable question. That's exactly how I ticked as an adolescent. My teenage years were a period of extremes; extreme rejection of situations and views deemed wrong (unfair trade policies, environmental pollution) and extreme acceptance of things deemed right (Nica bananas, jute bags). 

A father at the lecture pleaded, "What rights do I have? Am I allowed to also watch my own TV programme and not always them?" A mother asked, "What can I do if they don't want to join us for a hike on Sunday? What about family time? Am I allowed to make them come?" – And another mother lamented rather helplessly, "My son is gaming every free minute refusing to communicate or interact; when I pull the plug, he gets aggressive, once he destroyed the door!" Whereupon the two teachers went on to explain the physical changes that were going on in adolescents and that certain parts of the brain that were not yet fully developed, could account for some of the erratic behaviours of youngsters such as aggression, apathy, inconsideration, egoism and so on. That only meant parents had to suffer through this, always showing concern but not too much to avoid stressing the youngsters. Withdrawing interest from an adolescent, they warned us, has resulted in suicide in some cases. And if your kid shows signs of an addiction such as excessive gaming, parents should seek professional help. They had all the addresses ready too. The presenters then showed us a slide with a quote that I found enormously telling:

"Today's youngsters are sleazy and dissolute. Young people don't listen to their parents any longer… The end of the world is near."

To what time does this quote possibly date back? We all took our guesses but none of us got anywhere near. It was discovered in Chaldean cuneiform in Ur, a place name I vaguely associated with Mesopotamia, and it was dated to around 2000 ante Christum natum – the quote was 4,000 years old - greetings from prehistory! More quotes followed: One from antiquity by Sokrates, another from the Renaissance and the last one from a family in the 18^th century and all had the same tenor: People through the ages thought their younger generations are the worst. But when even prehistoric parents complained about "today's youth", maybe our youngsters were not as hopeless as parents sometimes thought? I guess that was the intended bottom line of the teachers.

I shared my insights from the puberty lecture at the dinner table the following day. My mom dryly replied parents in the West were too lax on their children and that in Tibet you just had to fulfill your duties. Paying attention to a problem caused by something called "puberty" was kyiptrabä kedscha or "talk that arises because one's situation is too pleasant" - a luxury problem in her view. Children in the West only had school as their duty and were spared from helping around the house or farming and looking after animals. Parents here tended to overdo it sometimes, she said. Too accommodating, too understanding, too egalitarian. My husband then jokingly produced a curious Tibetan gtam dpe or saying in response to my update from the puberty presentation. He solemnly recited it in the earthy Kham dialect spoken by the elders in our Tibetan hometown, sounding almost as archaic as Chaldean. I try to reproduce it as phonetically accurate as possible in the Latin Alphabet:

Phuro song de dheoring guo, drung Kessur shering guo

Phutha song de dheoring guo, thratong thongtong shering guo.

"Three good kids walking along discuss the Gesar story

"Three bad kids walking along discuss food and drink."

You definitely want your kid in the company of the first trio: It is exemplary because these youngsters study. You don't want your kid to hang out with the second group: These guys only think of how to have fun instead of working on themselves – bad company.

And here's another funny saying which I have used on my pubescent child-housemate a lot lately:

Putshaa makyó, threemba kyó!

The kid doesn't grow, instead the liver grows!"

Americans call it guts, we call it liver. It means youngsters get cheeky on you long before they can fend for themselves. It's actually a miracle my dad hasn't used it on me. Oh my, I sound so funny when I hurl this at my teenager. I almost forget I am mad!

The other day, just before going out the door to school, the youngster got checky on me again with my mom witnessing it. Spontaneously I realised it must all be déjâ vu for her: I did the same to her when I was growing up and all of a sudden I felt very guilty. I hugged her and apologized. dgongs tag Amala. Only now as a parent of an adolescent do I understand how hard it must have been for my mom back then. My Amala only gave me a warm smile: All forgiven and forgotten.

Later that day the kid didn't even remember what had happened in the morning. I received a hug and was told "best mom ever". Relief. There is still hope that it's only the hormones playing crazy and no one is walking away with a permanent damage from this age-old ordeal called puberty.

Mountain Phoenix Over Tibet

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

Tibetan For Kids: Let's Play "Sho"!

Mountain Phoenix' family playing Sho

Once in a while I go down to our basement to sort out old clothes and items we no longer use. Warm clothes and sturdy shoes go to Tibet. Old summer wear and kids' toys go to the Salvation Army or I try to sell them at a second-hand place and donate the earnings to a school in Tibet. My children love to accompany me on these cleaning-up operations as all sorts of forgotten toys reappear in the process and they play around with rediscovered toys while I sift through all the stuff.

During their latest basement adventure, our old Tibetan dice game set came to light, which my dad had made by hand. He and my granddad used to play it during happy family gatherings such as Losar, the Tibetan New Year. After they passed away, the thing somehow landed in my basement. With no one in my remaining family knowing how to play Sho I wanted to send the game to Tibet. But before I could put the game on the Tibet pile, the kids spied it: "Mami, di kharé rè? Khandres tsegorè? Ngantso tsenyi trosung – koooocheee!"

I explained that I didn't know how to play Sho. In my eyes it was a boring pastime for old men perhaps comparable to Boccia, which is what retired south European Polas play. - Well, if I didn't know, surely Aba knew how to play Sho? They insisted on taking the game upstairs to show their dad. To my surprise, he knew how to play the popular game from Central Tibet. And so he started to teach the kids.

These are the items you need for the game:

1. A dice cup, the Shophor
2. Plenty of sea shells, the Shobu or Dribu
3. A round pad stuffed with Yak hair wool, the Shoten
4. An underlay as buffer when the Shophor with the dice inside hits the Shoten: usually a saddle rug or Taden
5. Two dice, the Sho
6. Three different sets of coins (9 per set) for each player - the Lakhay

The rules of the game are straightforward: Each player selects his Lakhay, places them in the starting area and then puts the dice into the Shophor, shakes it well (sprug sprug btangba) and slams it on the Shoten. The next player lifts the cup to see what value (Shomig) you got; the highest roller goes first. It's played clock-wise with the player using the value of the dice to move their coin(s) forward. Since the game doesn’t use a board, the seashells serve as the counting stock.

The goal is to move each one's coins "home". On your way you must eliminate the other players by sending their coins back to the starting point or blocking their passage. Basically do things with your Sho Alter Ego that you are not supposed to do in real life as a well-behaved Buddhist, ha, ha! A very good description of the Sho rules is given on the website of Tibet Namchen Restaurant in Lhasa. 

We also found a free Sho App created by a Japanese developer. In order to sharpen their grasp of the rules of the game, the tactics and strategy, the kids are now occasionally allowed to play virtual Sho on the iPad. Here is a demo from Youtube. It’s really cute with the winner being cheered and accorded a good old Tibetan Khatag.

Technically, Sho is similar to a Parcheesi, a game I used to play as a kid. But the real thrill of Sho is not the game itself but the theatre coming out of the players during play. It’s packed colourful and humorous Sho terminology called sho bshas or Shobshè. Herein lies the real cultural wealth of the game because every region has its own Sho parlance, which is basically non-stop banter and witty humour that you unleash onto your playmates while you meaningfully shake the Shophor and let it hurtle down on the Shoten with your pitch getting higher and higher as the dice cup gets closer and closer to hitting the Sho-pad.

If you don’t have a witty saying ready, you simply go “dhig, dhig, dhig” as these guys in this Sho video from Youtube making yourself sound a bit like at cockrow with your voice almost breaking the moment your Shophor hits the Shoten.

Since it's so much fun to listen to Shobshè it draws a lot of bystanders who watch the game and laugh along. If you are really good player, they will say of you sho tshapo rtse gi red ("plays hot Sho") which means besides good gamesmanship you're also good at Shobshè.

In Sho terminology, every Shomig or value the dice show is known by a different name. 3 for instance would not just be gsum but “sugu” and 4 would not be bzhi but “tsigi”; 5 lnga would be “kha”; 6 drug would be “lug”; 7 bdun would be “ri”; 8 brgyad would be “sha”; 9 we don’t know but 10 bcu is "chu"; 11 bcu gcig is “doge” and 12 bcu gnyis is “jangpa”.  

We don’t know yet what these codes signify and they probably vary from region to region but the thing is you have to be able to make up a witty phrase containing the code for the value you are invoking when you shake the dice in the cup and the cup then comes smashing down on the pad. So it’s something linguistically challenging with every region using their own local sayings around these codes.

Since this is what gives Sho its particular appeal, my partner started to call around to find someone who could teach him more about Shobshè so he could then teach the kids. This is when we heard that there are little booklets on sale in Lhasa containing the Sho parlance popular in Central Tibet.  That was great news. These are cultural jewels which need to be protected and people were doing it. So our next goal has become to get hold of such a booklet and appropriate the new vocabulary so we would be in a position to teach our kids the real thing: Sho jargon!

A really nice plus of Sho is that it is a friendly, not very competitive game where the stake is reasonable such as buying the winner a beer, on that level. Camaraderie and having a good time are in the foreground. If you remember that Tibetans are sometimes capable of gambling away entire homes, Sho is very reasonable. Sho is also a mobile game, which can be carried with you wherever you go. It's mainly played outdoors on fine days for rest, relaxation and fun. You often find people sitting under a tree or on a meadow playing this old Tibetan game.

Parcheesi

The other day, the Lhasan lady who lives in our neighbourhood, stopped by to bring us some homemade sweets and share the latest news from the Tibetan capital. When she saw how the kids got out the Sho-set asking their dad to play and she switched the topic exclaiming: "Ta Pala-la rogpa yakpo rashag!"

She obviously thought he taught the children so he would have gambling buddies to entertain himself. Where the lady comes from, gambling and senselessly killing time is so widespread it's considered a normal activity. But when she heard that he taught them the game so they could do simple calculations in Tibetan, she was very amused.

So this is the story how an old Tibetan parlour game called Sho became the latest addition to our collection of Tibetan language training tools for kids. And this particular tool could even be used to teach arithmetic in Tibetan on an elementary level. Once again I was taught better: Sho is not only for laid-back old males after all. It could be applied to teach kids how to work on their Tibetan without a major effort from the kids' side. Brilliant!

The crux is for you as the parents not to satisfy yourselves once your kid has understood the rules of the game. The real challenge is to naturally let the whole game take place in Tibetan language. So focus and prepare ahead. Make sure you have looked up all the words you don't know yourself or ask an authoritative native speaker. Then start to unleash the vocabulary on your kids naturally while playing. They will absorb it without even knowing it.

Some parents worry that asking their kids to retain Tibetan is an additional burden because children are already under pressure from regular school. Some more utilitarian-minded parents are also saying Tibetan is not one of the languages that look good on a CV. It's extremely important to fit in and perform well wherever you live, very true. And something like business administration looks definitely better on a CV than "Tibetan”, that’s clear as daylight. I wouldn't list Tibetan as an asset either when it's not relevant for a job. But I also say it's not a zero-sum game: Most of the time, the Tibetan thing is not something we do for the job; it's something we try to do for the family and the soul.  

Even when Tibetan is not a powerful business language, it can still have a positive effect on our overall ability to perform because multilingualism is said to cause structural differences in brain networks that enhance mental abilities. Just like a musician's brain can be altered by the long hours of practice needed to master an instrument, in people who are multilingual, biological differences in auditory nervous system appear and enhance attention and even working memory. That's a promise worth continuing to work on Tibetan, is it not?

And not only will your kids be multilingual but they are also said to become very good at determining what is and what is not relevant. They have a more resilient brain, are more proficient at multitasking and setting priorities. Perhaps they’re also better at withstanding ravages of age as a range of recent studies suggest. And they delay Alzheimer as they protect memory and are less likely to have cognitive problems.

Are these not very practical, utilitarian reasons for parents and children alike to keep our grip over the Tibetan language and deepen our knowledge from year to year? - Forget about the worry that learning more than one language will confuse a kid. It is an unfounded worry coming from monolingual folks who lack imaginative power.

The dice is cast. I won't send my old man's Sho-set to Tibet. It wasn't a good idea to begin with: They have more than enough gambling material there already. Instead, I will keep the game here letting my partner use it as a language and arithmetic training tool for our elementary age children.

With Losar around the corner the whole family will be together. After many, many Sho-less Tibetan New Years, once again it will be time to zestfully swing the dice-cup while murmuring magic words invoking defeat for the others and victory for oneself. This time around, the players will be a lot younger, but the groove will be the same.

Para sho, Para sho, Para sho!

Happy Losar everyone!

Mountain Phoenix

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Bashè Forever

Tibetan For Kids - 10 Ways To Keep The Language Alive


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