Excerpt



In the deepest part of my heart I remember my family nestled into our huge black yak-hair tent. Inside butter lamps flickered in each corner and a fire crackled in the center. The whole family would gather there to recite mantra and do puja (Buddhist prayers) in the morning and evening, but especially in the evening. There within the warmth and intimacy of the family tent, we would do special group practices together. Afterward, wed tell stories and share our thoughts and dreams with each other. These evenings were very special.

Anywhere from two to five families traveled and lived side-by-side with us. You can imagine a small valley dotted with these 5 families, where wed have our yak hair tents spread out. Let me tell you, yak hair is 10 times stronger than cotton or any other material, and if I remember correctly, a yak hair tent lasts from 5 to 10 years. It can handle rain and snow, but you do need to clear the heavy snow off the tent before it collapses.

My familys warmth extended beyond the inside of the tent. Outside, hundreds of yaks slept peacefully on one side of the tent. Their dark shaggy bodies covered the earth, and there the landscape seemed to be painted blacker than night itself. On the other side of the tent slept hundreds, or sometimes thousands, of sheep, their bright, white bodies dotting the earth like a gigantic mosaic. At night, in the glow of the crystal moon, a plush white rug seemed to spread for miles.

Our dogs kept an eye on everything. Every family had several dogs, who were depended on as unfailing guards and protectors. Some were completely fearless when it came to protecting their camp. They werent bloodthirsty or anything, but they would jump at an unknown person approaching the camp even if he was holding a knife. Dogs were such beloved and valuable parts of the family that losing one was very difficult. I remember falling asleep to the patter of their paws and even to their barking and yelping as they patrolled our camp through the night.