Lobsang Lungtok was formerly a political prisoner in Tibet. When he was released he escaped over the Himalayas to India. There he worked for several years for the Tibet Information Network. He recently arrived in Australia and has agreed to share his story.

Lobsang Lungtok’s Story

“I’m Lobsang Lungtok and arrived in Australia in December last year with my wife and small daughter - travelling from Dharamsala in India where I lived in exile. I was working for the Tibet Information Network.

I was born in a village called Chang Kya, which means brown willow, or Gyan Kya, meaning brown wall. This could be because, in the old days, willow trees used to cover the area, or because the houses were built with brown walls. It is in the province of Amdo, in North East Tibet, which is called Qinghai by China.

The village is below a mountain called Mog Ri and there is a river called Gu Chu. The river is an indispensable jewel for our village - our history comes from this river. There are about 150 homes in my village and farming is their main livelihood. In the old days, the area around the village was surrounded by forest and there were wild animals including tigers.

I always remember my mother, but I never knew my father. I have seven brothers and one sister - two brothers died when they were young. We grew enough food to feed our family - wheat, barley and vegetables. We kept four or five Dzomo - animals like yaks - they gave us meat and butter. I still do not know how my mother was able to feed us all.

I went to primary school at the age of seven. Our classrooms were not in good condition and we wrote on the earth until class five. At the age of twelve I went to middle school near Rebkong where I learnt Chinese - and that my nation is China, my flag is the five stars flag, I love China. However a sense of nationalism, of being a Tibetan, loving Tibet, grew in my mind. One of my brothers was detained for political reasons and was kept in prison for six months. After that the police always watched my family.

In 1991 when I was fifteen, I entered Rongpo monastery and became a monk. In March 1995, I heard on a short wave radio that the Tibetans in India were organising a peace march from Dharamsala to Tibet so I put up posters in support of the march and accused the Chinese of destroying Tibetan culture. Usually, when Tibetans put up posters they use only simple words that say ‘Tibet is independent.’ But I wrote a poem about the meaning of independence.

I had a pen and paper in front of me. I will spread the information with these small supplies, but no one knows how they will cause a tremendous difficulty in the future.

When you are looking back at the history
Pride and anger come into your mind
Your heart always jump for your homeland.
At the curve of the century
Thousands of heartless wolves came into
A land of peace and mystery, unaware.
They have been roaring with arrogance,
They started the bloody performance
Where the weak, honest beings escape.
Stand up Come together
You should march for your rights
Truth is the weapon for us
Come with truth weapons
Show your heart for your future
Open the eyes of the world
Truth always stand by our side
By the side of countless victims
Victory comes from victim

A short time later the police picked me up in the market and detained me - the shop owner where I photocopied the posters had betrayed me to the police. When I first went to prison, I was interrogated for about ten days until I became sick. Before I went to prison, I was young and active, and found it easy to study and memorise things. But when I came out of prison I had changed completely and felt like an old man, and my memory has been affected.

The health and medical conditions were bad for all the prisoners. One of them had a very bad back - he was in pain and could only walk bent over. Eventually it was difficult for him to walk, but he did not get any treatment.

When I became sick, I had bleeding from my nose for five months - I became very weak and had a problem with my heart beat - giddiness with headache, sickness like cold, and serious pain in the joints of my feet and hands. There was a prison doctor, but she never came to check me - she just looked in the window and said ‘He is OK, he is not sick.’ Eventually they called me to see the doctor and she gave me an injection. I thought they were going to treat my illness, but they sent me home. At home I became stronger as I could eat good, nutritious food - the food was not good in prison. While I was at home the police checked on me a lot and when I was better they re-arrested me. I then had a trial and was sentenced to eighteen months prison, and moreover I was deprived of my political rights for two years afterwards. There are four main points that included deprivation of the right to elect and deprivation of the right to freedom of speech. However even if they took away my political rights it would make no difference, as I had no political freedom as a Tibetan.

I was accused of ‘promoting and publicising counter-revolutionary ideas with the evil intention of sabotaging the unity and solidarity of the nationalities, and harbouring the empty hope of Tibetan Independence by following the separatist clique of the Dalai’

The People’s armed Police guards tortured and beat the prisoners without any reason and I still think and dream about these times. One time some prisoners had tried to escape by digging a hole. After two days a lot of soldiers came inside our prison and started to beat us. They made us stand with our faces to the wall and they beat us from behind - they kicked me in my back and in my ass, and when I fell down, they shouted “stand up” and beat me with their fists. They twisted every part of my body and untied my monk’s robe. After this I couldn’t walk properly and had to lay on my bed for a few days.

After I was released from prison, I still had health problems so stayed in my room a lot and went to teachings sometimes. I was always being watched - under surveillance. One day I had a secret message that my papers were being re-investigated and the Chinese Authorities would probably recapture me. I went to say goodbye to my mother, and this was very hard. I felt extremely sad and all my tears dropped in my heart.

I rushed to Lhasa, which I had always thought of as ‘Heaven’. It was the capital of Tibet, and now it is just a city, the dirtiest city on top of the world. One part - around the Barkor - has countless beggars, while the other is a modern society - modern buildings, bars, drinking and prostitution. The Potala palace still dignifies Lhasa, but it is like a dead person who doesn’t have his soul.

I then escaped to Nepal, travelling through the snow, across the Himalayas. The Chinese called me a separatist; in fact they are separatist, as they separate me from my mother and my country. When I was in exile I missed my family and my country so much that I wrote about them. This is something I wrote:

In Exile

A person in exile sunken in tears
My mind rushed to the motherland
And embraced the white cloud.
The cool, slight, rain of poetry held in my heart
Has moistened my heart of misery.
With great strong desire
My heart crosses thousands of rivers and mountains
To see my mother who has become the meaning of my dreams In this way
Even though, pressed down by heavy years and months
How far I have travelled
From my beloved mother, hair painted by snow.
The night a white crane flew under the moonlight
The pure, clean, clear lake beach, has emptied
Except tonight,
I did not recognise that the night view is the recollection of memories
Each time I see the full, smiling face of the moon.
Where have you flown, have you hidden my mind under your wings

This is my story - it is not so important, as many Tibetans have had much greater sufferings. But I call on all of you to support Tibet and be active for the cause of the Tibetan people.

Thanks”