CHAPTER 17
The Tibetan Buddhist monk whose turn it was to guide Brother Francis and Andre looked somewhat bedraggled. They were not supposed to play “football” at the monastery for some reason; perhaps monastic decorum or some related rule was broken in the process. It wasn’t really football anyway, but what Westerners would call “soccer.”
Their football adventures went something like this: The monks simply put their play clothes on under their maroon monastic robes and walked out into an open field beyond the monastery property. They disrobed and played up a storm, then robed again and walked back to the monastery.
“Looks like it was a football day,” Andre whispered to Brother Francis.
“Appears so, and I think his team lost!”
Even though it was late morning at this point, Francis felt like it was mid-afternoon and time for a siesta. He woke up spontaneously at three o’clock that morning, so he showered and shaved, and then celebrated the Offices of Vigils and Morning Prayer on the balcony outside the guest rooms below the snow-capped mountains towering in front of him. The whole experience filled him with wonder—wonder at just being in Tibet.
The trio walked to Men-Tsee-Khang Hospital. They took a short cut, which meant that they stumbled down-hill over rocks, trudged back up-hill again, stuck their feet into holes in the earth now and then, and worked up a sweat. No need to exercise later—always a silver lining if one looks hard enough. Sometimes they would meet others on a shortcut and be comfortable enough to chat with them like long-lost friends, say good bye eventually, and probably never see them again in this life.
The medical museum at the hospital housed a variety of ancient medical instruments. Most of them appeared to be made of brass. A few looked fairly frightening. The bookstore housed a wonderful collection of Tibetan medical texts. The doctor monk purchased a few more books by Doctor Yeshi Dhonden, the Tibetan doctor monk who was formerly the physician to the Dalai Lama, to add to his library.
Both Andre and Brother Francis enjoyed good health but wanted the experience of a Tibetan medical examination and clinical treatment. They had their pulses read in Tibetan fashion. Brother Francis was told that his “kidney fire” was low and was given a prescription for some pills. His low kidney fire was simply the result of strenuous travel and nothing to be concerned about.
Andre was given a prescription to help his digestion, another little side effect of travel. Otherwise, he was fine, bursting with energy. Brother Francis thought of the old Mark Twain quote: “The only trouble with youth is that it is wasted on the young.”
The pharmacists in the dispensary were more interested in the “photo op” with the Westerners than in filling the prescriptions but they happily complied after their pictures were taken.
The pills were about half the size of malted milk balls and had to be crushed before consuming. They tasted a bit like sawdust. One might suppose enough sawdust would ignite anyone’s kidney fire! The travelers had great respect for Tibetan medicine but enjoyed laughing at themselves and joking over their experiences.
The next stop was at the main library in Dharmsala. To the surprise of the travelers, the man who manages their rooming house was there, dressed in a suit, and showing folks around the library and explaining Tibetan texts to visitors. The last he was seen was earlier that morning on the roof of their building fixing something. What a versatile gentleman.
We were taken beyond a locked door and shown ancient volumes, many of which were smuggled out of Tibet. Texts older than the Bible were in our hands. God was revealed to these good people in another language and another culture but they were loved just the same as we are loved.
Brother Francis reflected on the Buddhist emphasis on developing compassion for all sentient beings. All of life is sacred to them; that is why so many Buddhists are vegetarians. Their compassion comes across as very Christ-like. Many of the folks he met on this journey were gently strong, a foundational tenet of Salesian spirituality.
Very close to the library was another large monastery. It was the former home of our guides. They were transferred to their present monastery to be assistants to the new Abbot of that monastery, on the grounds of which the Dalai Lama has a little house and the temple in which he teaches. The trio had a quite moment, and a look of home-sickness briefly washed over the face of their monastic guide, then it vanished and his electric smile returned.
After huddling around a small table in a local shop and sipping tea, the trio returned to the rooming house. Brother Francis and Andre rested and then had a late dinner and early sleep. Tomorrow they were scheduled to have a private audience with the Abbot of the monastery next door, at the temple of the Dalai Lama.