MY SORROW by GYALWANG

I was just six years old and my older sister was eight years old. It was winter time. We were crossing the Himalayan mountains to escape into India. We had been separated from the rest of our Tibetan group as the Chinese police had arrested most of the others. My sister, I and a monk who was in his sixites were the only who escaped. So we attempted to cross the mountains alone.

There were no trees on the steep mountain and the stones were very slippery. There was nothing for us to hold on to as we descended. Because of the difficulty, the monk told us to wait and he would go ahead and find the way. He did not return. We waited and waited. We started shouting for him. No one answered. Finally, we went ahead and suddenly saw his body below with his fingers still clutching a handful of grass. He was dead. We cried and then we covered the body as best we could.

My sister said that she would stay with the body and that I should search for help. As I climbed, I got lost and could not find my way. Darkness came. I had no food cold night. Nothing. I cried I was so scared. I found a cave inhabited by many vultures. I slept in the cave. In the morning, and for the next four days, I kept shouting and calling my sister's name. No one answered. On the fourth day, I heard hammering and I left the cave and followed the sounds. They led to a power station. And to a carpenter. Then to the police where I was held for two months. Then I was sent back to my old home in Tibet. My father returned to look for my sister but no trace of her was found and she was given up for dead. Great sadness visited my home.

Time passed. I was now twelve years old and once again I tried to escape to India, this time with my younger sister and ten other Tibetans. You see, education is very important to the Tibetan people and I must become educated so I can help my country in its liberation. Our escape was a very long and terrible journey that lasted forty days. I arrived at the Reception Center in Nepal. I was then sent to the Tibetan Homes Foundation in Mussoorie and to my surprise, there was my older sister alive and well.

Four more years passed. My sister has since graduated but was unable to live away from our family. She returned to Tibet and I do not know her whereabouts. I remain at the Tibetan Homes Foundation determined to continue my education.

©2002 FOTWA. All rights reserved.

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