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January 26, 2018
A great loss to the international mountaineering community: The ultimate authority on Himalayan ascents, Elizabeth Hawley passed on Jan. 26 in Kathmandu. Alpine A-listers know no one will ever fill her shoes. A tribute to her life-long work was published today in Nepali Times. It includes a video and a brief explanation of how I came to work with Elizabeth.
Link to article:
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http://nepalitimes.com/blogs/kundadixit/2018/01/26/from-liz-hawley-in-kathmandu/
Posted by Mikel Dunham in Dunham's "The Nepal Scene", Dunham's books, Sir Edmund Hillary | Permalink
April 7, 2016
Below is my Forward for the English translation of General Rookmangud Katawal’s best-selling autobiography, launched in Kathmandu on April 2, 2016. I also acted as editor of the translation. The book is published by Nepa-laya Publishers and is now available at all bookstores in Kathmandu. Soon, it will be available on Amazon as well.
Foreword by Mikel Dunham
When I first met General Rookmangud Katawal, he was at the height of his career. It was during a pivotal moment in Nepal’s history. Only a few days before, on April 10, the historic 2008 Constituent Assembly Elections had been held. Prior to the elections, the country thrummed with trepidation over regional outbreaks, mob threats and the probability of widespread violence in and around the polling stations. As it turned out, the day came and went with less hostility than predicted. The unexpected victory of the Maoists sparked self-congratulatory dancing in the streets. The defeated parties hung back in shell-shocked silence. The king had not yet made a public statement. Whatever one’s party affiliation may have been, there was palpable relief that – if nothing else – the long-postponed event was finally over. The day I drove to Army Headquarters, there was still celebration in the air, but also emerging sobriety – a kind of election-day hangover. The country had undeniably reached a turning point. But now what? The rollercoaster ride wasn’t over. The opportunities and challenges were multifold; both required ethics and transparency, attributes in short supply among the political parties.
I interviewed General Katawal on the top floor of the sprawling Army Headquarters. Brigadier General Rajendra Chhetri invited me to ink my signature in HQs’ oversized guest book. I signed directly below the two previous visitors: Jimmy Carter and American Ambassador to Nepal Nancy Powell. I then followed Chhetri further down the hallway, windowed on the right side, the panes streaked with late afternoon rain. The view was looking down over Kathmandu. I couldn’t decide if HQs’ vantage point was above the fray or at the very heart of it.
Chhetri stopped at a door on the left, knocked, paused, then ushered me into a dimly lit, expansive, but sparsely appointed conference room. Stretching away in the background was an impressive table that might seat a score of brass. There were two non-military oil paintings – mountainscapes – on the paneled walls and that was about it in terms of visual diversion. Closer to the entrance was a heavy desk and a seating arrangement of crimson stuffed armchairs with matching sofa.
The Chief of Army Staff was alone. Chhetri left us, closing the door behind him.
The ironclad handshake of General Katawal is something one doesn’t forget. Coupled with direct eye contact and upturned anvil jaw, his grip conveys a message that here is a man who once topped the 61-day United States Army Ranger School, and who probably could still carry, without flinching, 40 kilos of weaponry and equipment on his back.
General Katawal asked me to take a seat on the sofa. Cameras and recorders were forbidden so I pulled out a notebook and pen. Before I could ask my first question, Katawal cut to the chase: “What do you want?”
It was meant as a challenge and I appreciated it. It was like pitching a movie to a producer. You had five minutes to either sell your story or get booted. He didn’t care if I liked him or not, which I found refreshing after having interviewed numerous politicians, including Maoists, who seemed to be taking a civilized break in front of the camera before resuming their dogfights. The main political actors in the continually changing governments of Nepal – supporting each other one day, betraying each other the next – offered me pre-scripted answers, with attendants nearby to cut short interviews should their bosses tread thin ice or should I become too annoying. In stark contrast was General Katawal. He was perfectly comfortable being alone with me. He didn’t need backup. Who he was today, he would be tomorrow.
I put my questions aside. Instead, I briefed him on what my recent activities in Nepal had entailed. The Election Commission of Nepal had chosen me to be one of their international observers. On Election Day, I canvassed three districts – Morang, Sunsari and Dhankuta – pinpointing various polling stations that had experienced tampering in the past. I saw plenty of irregularities. I photographed a twelve-year-old boy stuffing “his” ballot into the box with a policeman standing three feet away. I saw entrances to polling stations flanked by scores of sullen but intimidating YCL members, sitting in the shade and monitoring the locals who dared to vote. I took a side-trip to a hospital in Darang, where a man was said to be in critical condition from a beating at the Bhutaha polling station. When I arrived, he had already died. At twilight, on the return trip to Biratnagar, my car was stopped and surrounded in Itahiri by a large group of young drunk thugs. No security in sight. After some fairly aggressive haggling, my international observer vehicle was reluctantly waved through. As I approached Biratnager around 8:45pm, I videoed a squad of armed police retrieving an unexploded bomb. As I entered the small hotel where I was spending the night, I heard Jimmy Carter’s voice blaring from the television mounted on the wall of the dining room next to the entrance. A group of reporters were gathered there, looking up at the screen. The ex-president – who was in Nepal, but never left the Kathmandu Valley – was proclaiming that the elections had been peaceful, free and fair. The reporters laughed at his naïve appraisal. It only then that the general smiled and took over the conversation.
The whole problem in Nepal was misinformation, he told me. His frustration was evident in his tightened lips. Everyone dismissed him as the “adopted son of King Mahendra” and therefore jumped to the conclusion that he was against democracy. Nothing could have been further from the truth, he told me. He supplied me with a thumbnail sketch of his hardscrabble childhood in the eastern part of Nepal, far away from the Kathmandu-centric elite. He told me, in no uncertain terms, that his supposed close connection to the royal family was a fairytale. He believed in the constitution and rule of law. More important, he believed that one of the main duties of the Nepal Army was to protect the constitution and rule of law.
The man spoke from his chest and from his heart. I could take it or leave it. I left Army HQs aware that there had been no interview, per se. I never published a word from that 40-minute meeting. But I came away with something far more valuable: someone to respect.
Although I don’t live in Nepal, I return here frequently and, if possible, touch base with General Katawal. After his retirement in 2009, and the klieg lights moved elsewhere, the general and I became trusted friends.
I was in Nepal during the horrific 2015 earthquakes. Although it was difficult to reach anyone in Kathmandu by phone, I was in contact with Katawal every day. Finally, five days after the first quake, I had dinner with the general and his family at his home. There was a large tent set up in his garden where his wife, daughter-in-law and her children slept. He preferred bunking in his office on the ground floor, with quick exit to the outside when the never-ending aftershocks became too threatening. It was during that typical Nepali dinner – one of the best I’ve ever had – that he asked me if I would be interested in editing the English translation of his autobiography. I pounced on the opportunity.
What man had experienced a more intimate relationship with the broad spectrum of Nepali culture and society – from powerless peasants to the aristocracy of old Nepal? Katawal was like a Nepali timeline incarnate.
He was born in 1948, just when the stage was being set for the demise of the 100-year-old reign of the Ranas. He was a toddler when King Tribhuwan returned to Nepal from Indian exile and re-established Shah rule. The pampered existence of the royal family was as distant from his goat-herding childhood as was Kathmandu from Okhaldhunga, the isolated district where he was born. But local holy men said he was destined for great things and his mother took the prophesy to heart, instilling in him a relentless drive to get a proper education and rise to the top.
It was King Mahendra, assuming the throne in 1955, who gave young Rookmangud his chance to break away from a rural existence. On a royal tour of eastern Nepal, Mahendra heard the young lad recite poetry, was impressed by the boy’s intellect (and perhaps amused by his bravado), and selected him to be taken to one of the preeminent schools in the Kathmandu Valley, Pharping Boarding School. This was one year before a new constitution was written wherein the king accepted the establishment of a parliamentary government.
Rookmangud found himself in classrooms with boys who came from some of the most privileged families in Nepal. It was a challenge to fit in, but he made a name for himself by taking first in most of his classes. Meanwhile, in 1960, Mahendra launched a royal coup, jailed political party leaders and established absolute rule, thus putting an end to the nascent development of democracy in Nepal. In its place, the king established the Panchayat system, basically a one-party system grafted to bolster Mahendra’s rule.
In 1969, Katawal began his career in the then Royal Nepal Army, eventually graduating from the Indian National Defense Academy, receiving a Bachelor of Arts from Tribhuwan University, a Master’s Degree in National Defense from Pakistan’s Qaeda Azam University, the Distinguished International Honor Graduate of the US Special Forces Course, the Gideon Award in the US Ranger Course, and a graduate of UK’s Army Command and Staff College. He had come a long way from his rural years, when, in order to be able to practice writing the alphabet, he had had to make his own ink from soot.
In 1972, King Birendra assumed the throne, continuing his deceased father’s absolute rule in Nepal.
While Katawal was given increasingly key Army staff appointments, Birendra was faced with growing hostility from his subjects. In 1979, a nationwide pro-democracy movement erupted in protest of the Panchayat system. The following year a national referendum was held that resulted in unqualified support for the Panchayat system, although many thought the process had been rigged. Minor amendments to the constitution were announced to mollify the public. But in 1981, when elections to the National Panchayat were held, the political parties boycotted the elections, a process repeated in 1983 and with the same dubious results.
That same year, Katawal left Nepal along with his family. He had been selected for the plum assignment of becoming Nepal’s Government’s Liaison Officer to the Brigade of Gurkhas of the British Army and Government of Hong Kong. The position was for three years and, during that stint, he had numerous opportunities to host the royal family en route to and from their various international tours. Katawal was nothing, if not a careerist, and he made the most of the opportunity by developing relationships with people who, otherwise, would have been beyond his station in life.
In 1988, he was appointed the Chief Military Personnel Officer of the United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon.
While Katawal’s career constantly moved upward, King Birendra’s Panchayat system – ever more dysfunctional and despised – was on the verge of collapsing. In 1989, India imposed an economic embargo on Nepal. It struck a devastating blow to the nation’s economy and, in turn, enraged the people, who put the blame squarely on Birendra’s shoulders. This led to the 1990 People’s Movement (Jana Andolan), which resulted in the promulgation of a new constitution that significantly compromised the Crown’s power and legitimized a multiparty democratic system.
Meanwhile, after serving in the Research and Development Wing at Army HQs, Katawal became Commandant of the Royal Nepalese Military Academy in 1993.
In 1996, Katawal was promoted to Brigadier General. Some of his superiors – all hailing from the rarified background of the ruling class – were fond of telling Katawal that, no matter how well he performed, a poor eastern boy with no pedigree would “never become Chief of Army Staff.” And they weren’t joking. An Army Chief’s last name was either “Rana”, “Shah”, “Basnyat” or “Thapa”. One of the most interesting things about Katawal’s life story is that, the higher he rose in the Army hierarchy, the more he encountered the pushback, the rigidity of the upper class. The discrimination wasn’t universal, but the undercurrent was always there. Likewise, as he rose through the ranks, his direct access to the palace became increasingly restricted. The king’s inner circle, all from the old aristocracy, distrusted this “upstart”, this “easterner” and further stigmatized him – quite erroneously – as an avid supporter of the pro-democratic Nepali Congress political party.
The same year that Katawal became a Brigadier General, a Maoist faction of the Communist Party of Nepal went underground and declared a “People’s War”. At first, most of the politicians in Kathmandu labeled the Maoists as “terrorists”, but otherwise paid insufficient attention to them, tucked away as they were in the western hilly districts of Rolpa, Rukum, Pyuthan and Salyan. Out of sight, out of mind. Besides, the political parties were too preoccupied with their interminable internecine war with one another. Corruption, coercion, lust for ministerial offices and jealousy of each other’s power was the political culture of Nepal. Between 1991 and 2000, there were ten different governments – the perfect storm for political instability – and the crafty Maoists took full advantage of it.
In 1999, Katawal became Director of Military Intelligence. No one in Nepal was in a better position to see the Maoist threat and yet there was little that he or the Army could do, since the palace had refused to mobilize the Army in order to crush the insurgents. That job was left to the police and later, in 2001, the newly created Armed Police Force.
On June 1, 2001, an unspeakable tragedy occurred that rocked the nation: the Palace Massacre. At a private family dinner party, Crown Prince Dipendra apparently gunned down his father, his mother, his brother, his sister and numerous other royal family members before turning the gun on himself. Soon after, without knowing what had actually taken place, General Katawal was ordered to rush to HQs and stay there. As the hours passed, information slowly trickled in. Prince Dipendra was still alive, in a coma, intensive care. Against strict orders, Katawal jumped on a motorcycle and raced to the hospital:
Chhauni Hospital was heavily guarded. Members of the royal family were filing in with stunned looks on their faces. Despite so many people milling about, the hospital was eerily quiet.
After sunrise, he managed to get into Dipendra’s room:
The crown prince’s head was completely covered in bandages. He was unconscious. His motionless body lay on the bed and I gave up hope of him ever coming out of this alive…
Katawal’s account of the aftermath of the Palace Massacre is one of his autobiography’s most poignant narrations. By the next morning, although the palace was ridiculously slow to admit what had happened, the basic facts of the tragedy leaked out to the public and the nation was overcome by grief, suspicion and, above all, anger. Katawal remembers:
… there was no time to grieve. I was assigned to arrange the funeral procession.
That evening, I took my position in the procession and walked beside King Birendra’s body. The streets were overflowing with mourners. The shock of the event was palpable and, in many ways, the cortège was surreal. Hooligans near Swayambhu threw stones at Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala’s car. Their anger was not only directed at the Prime Minister. Prince Gyanendra was being singled out, as well. Many suspected that he was somehow behind the massacre.
Dipendra finally succumbed to his head wound, and his uncle, Gyanendra, was crowned king. Thirteen days later, Katawal was promoted to Major General. It was a ceremony filled with mixed emotions. Birendra had supported Katawal’s career – from the beginning of his reign until his ghastly death.
It wasn’t long after the Palace Massacre that Katawal took over as Adjutant General of the Nepal Army. In November 2001, following a breakdown of peace talks with the government, the Maoists ended a four-month-old ceasefire with a wave of attacks on police posts and army barracks. King Gyanendra declared a state of emergency, erasing a decade of civil liberties including freedom of press and freedom of assembly. The following year, in October 2002, the king sacked the entire cabinet, assumed executive powers and indefinitely postponed parliamentary polls. The “People’s War” intensified.
By May 2003, nearly 7,200 Nepalis had been killed in the Maoist revolt, with no end in sight. Five of the six political parties with seats in the dismissed parliament had had their fill of King Gyanendra’s direct rule and launched the Joint People’s Movement. A new slogan gained momentum: Abolish the monarchy and establish Nepal as a republic. The increased political chaos, coupled with the rising number of dead from the guerrilla conflict was reaching the boiling point. And it was at this juncture, at the end of the year, that General Katawal was selected to command the army’s Western Division – ground zero – the very area where the “People’s War” had begun seven years before. According to the Maoists, it was completely under their control.
The national and international media parroted ad nauseam the Maoists’ claim. Katawal capitalized on his transfer to Western Nepal by revealing a different picture in the hinterlands. For example, he foiled the Maoists’ attempt to block King Gyanendra’s scheduled tour of Western Nepal. The Army cleared the path; Gyanendra made his scheduled stops and Katawal made sure the media was there to cover it. “Where are the Maoists?” Katawal asked the cameras. In addition, Katawal focused on ramping up development projects that increased interaction and trust with the local villages. The Army and Police presence was so great in places that numerous Maoist leaders were driven across the Indian border. Not surprisingly, Katawal was in the crosshairs of Maoist leadership. But since they were powerless to actually kill him, they resorted to a cowardly alternative: Katawal’s wife began getting anonymous phone calls, advising her to buy a white sari – the customary garb for a widow.
In September 2004, Katawal was promoted to Lieutenant General and took over as Chief of General Staff. Being back in Kathmandu was perhaps more contentious than his direct skirmishes with rebels in the West. The king was getting into the habit of dismissing prime ministers on an almost yearly basis. He blamed them for failing to hold elections on time and not being able to bring Maoists leaders to a roundtable negotiation. Finally, on 1 February 2005, Gyanendra declared himself absolute ruler, promising the country that he would return Nepal to normalcy within three years. His announcement was unapologetically heavy handed and he repressed any form of dissent, restricting civil liberties, including freedom of speech. By the time the royal address was over, all of Nepal’s mobile phone networks and landlines went dead. The king had ordered a nationwide communication blackout.
The diplomatic community publicly denounced the move as a “setback to democracy.” But off the record, ambassadors told Katawal:
If peace can be restored by bringing the Maoists to the democratic process, then the King should be allowed to do so. This will also be a major lesson for the political leaders, who have spent all of their time fighting amongst themselves. We think the King’s move is the best solution to rescue Nepal from the present political crisis.
Initially, a surprisingly large percentage of Nepal’s population condoned the king’s move: Nothing else had worked, so why not give the king a chance to turn things around? Katawal also supported the king’s takeover but not necessarily his methods. He was particularly concerned that censorship of the media would come back to haunt the king. And then there was this:
No one objected when the King took steps to bring the parties in line, but now it seemed he was concentrating on consolidating his own power by removing anyone who didn’t agree with him. He excluded the Congress and UML from his Cabinet of Ministers and selected former office-bearers from the Panchayat regime. There was no evidence that these throwbacks to the past would improve governance… Less than a month after the royal takeover, seven secretaries were dumped. People who had served the monarchy were being punished, triggering fear and paranoia among government officials. Their faith in the monarchy was crumbling fast.
Ambassadors were now unwelcome at the palace. To make matters more insular, the King’s inner circle of sycophants never challenged the king’s mulish – if not delusional – decisions. At a time when he should have been exhibiting flexibility, the King became even more rigid. Domestically, he had turned his back on the political parties and they had countered by turning their backs on him. In fact, they had come to the conclusion that it would be far more profitable to dialogue with the Maoists, the king’s archenemies.
For all practical purposes it was Gyanendra, himself, who was destroying the monarchy. Although no royalist, Katawal believed in the merits of a well-managed constitutional monarchy. Even a merely symbolic monarchy, with no real power of its own, offered historic continuity to a nation that was in dire need of unifying assets. From 2005, up until Gyanendra was dethroned and evicted from Narayanhiti Palace, Katawal sought private audiences with the king in order to shed light on the king’s precarious situation. On the few occasions that he did manage to speak to the king in private, Gyanendra either left in mid-sentence or responded with a royal sneer.
The Five-Party Alliance grew into a Seven-Party Alliance and, on 22 November 2005, they officially joined hands with the Maoists. Together, they agreed to resolve the 10-year conflict through political negotiations. Without the palace’s participation, they converged in Delhi and inked a 12-Point Agreement that called for the abolishment of absolute monarchy and addressed a spate of other contentious problems, including those involving class, caste, gender and economics.
It was a game-changer. The Maoists came out of hiding and took to the streets. On 6 April 2006, they and the united parties declared the People’s Movement (Jana Andolan II). Normal life screeched to a halt. The world watched, day after day, as the protestors swelled to the tens of thousands, while security forces in riot gear and tanks blocked the perimeters of the royal palace.
Finally, on 21 April, the King announced that he would restore parliament, thinking that that would solve the problem. He was deluded; it was a case of too-little-too-late. The Maoists and the Seven-Party Alliance gave him an ultimatum: The protests would continue until a Constituent Assembly was formed and the monarchy was abolished. The next day, the streets of Kathmandu swelled to hundreds of thousands of protestors. Finally, on 24 April, the king announced he was stepping down.
Six months later, on 18 September 2006, Rookmangud Katawal was sworn in as the new Chief of Army Staff (COAS). He was the first Commander-in-Chief of the Nepal Army to come from a common family. At a time when much of the public dismissed the Army as aristocratic, reactionary and a stooge of the beleaguered monarchy, Katawal’s unprecedented promotion should have sent a message that the Army was not that easy to stereotype. On the contrary, the streets were rife with the rumor that it was only a matter of time before the Army – in secret collaboration with the disgraced king – would stage a military coup. In fact, Katawal was approached on numerous occasion by leading figures to do precisely that, but he refused to act against the constitution.
The United Nations Mission in Nepal (UNMIN), arrived in Nepal in early 2007 to oversee the scheduled 2008 Constituent Elections and, more important, to monitor the the 28 cantonments, which were set up to house the Maoist ex-combatants until they could be reintegrated into society. Almost from the beginning, UNMIN’s presence was plagued with questions of its neutrality, as well as its ability (or inclination) to correctly cipher Maoist irregularities. Early on, UNMIN conducted a headcount of the rebels to weed out child soldiers and new people recruited after the peace agreement was in place. Their count was just under 20,000 combatants. The Army did everything in its power to point out the headcount discrepancies but UNMIN Director Ian Martin wasn’t listening. (In 2009, however, the UNMIN’s verification process became a source of embarrassment after a secret videotape of Maoist Supremo Prachanda caught him boasting to his followers that he had duped UNMIN by padding the camps with young people who didn’t actually qualify. The real number of the People’s Liberation Army, according to Prachanda, was actually between 7,000-8,000. Even that was an inflated figure.)
The April 2008 National Elections results indicated that the Maoists had won a surprising majority of the seats in the Constituent Assembly (CA). They did not achieve a mandate, but they were clearly in a position to take over the government. In May, the CA abolished the monarchy and pronounced Nepal a republic. Ram Baran Yadav (of the opposition Nepali Congress party) became Nepal’s first President. Prachanda became Prime Minister.
General Katawal spent most of his COAS tenure dealing with army bashing, with Maoist duplicity, and with formulating a practical solution to reintegrating the ex-rebels, while, at the same time, preserving the integrity of the Nepal Army. His job became even more besieged after Prachanda became Prime Minister:
With the King effectively neutralized, the Maoists turned their attention to bringing the Army to its knees. They knew very well that the Army was the only disciplined, well-knitted and professionally united institution in the country. Their goal was to put the Army under their control – a vital step if they were to achieve their ultimate goal: to complete their process of state capture. They were prepared to go to any lengths to accomplish that. [They] had done an excellent job in manipulating the media by portraying the Nepal Army as rapists, murderers, and basically the private army of the ex-King. [On the other hand] …the international community admired and relied on the Nepal Army for its decades of professional participation in UN peace missions. In other parts of the world, the Nepal Army represented the very model of an institution dedicated to maintaining peace and stability.
Nevertheless, Prachanda pushed on, dead-set on forcing the Army to integrate – wholesale – 19,000 “ex-rebels”, a group with far less education, questionable skills and virtually no professional military training or experience on a par with the Nepal Army’s international standards. For Katawal, the consummate military professional, meeting Prachanda’s demand would be the equivalent of allowing the army to be destroyed. That was not going to happen on Katawal’s watch.
Prachanda focused on issues he thought could destroy Katawal: controversy over Katawal’s alleged close affiliation with the ruling class and the Indian government; Army recruiting issues regarding replacing eight generals, who were facing retirement; and the Army’s boycotting of a Sports Tournament that Prachanda had tried to commandeer with members of his youth group, the Young Communist League. Based on these “transgressions”, Prachanda unilaterally sacked Katawal.
His autocratic ploy backfired. The Communist Party of Nepal (Unified Marxist Leninist), a pivotal party in the coalition, withdrew from the government in protest. This was followed by the President of Nepal overriding Prachanda’s bold move and ordering Katawal to continue as COAS. This, in turn, resulted in Prachanda’s furious resignation in May 2009, followed by the collapse of the Maoist government. This final “Prachanda vs. Katawal” battle-of-wills is recounted in the last chapter of Katawal’s autobiography – a political thriller if there ever was one.
Katawal has often been portrayed as arrogant, which is a fair assessment. But after reading his life story, I don’t believe he was ever conceited. He merely took pride in what he had achieved on his own. He had faith in the simple mantra that upholding one’s principles was the only course of action. No doubt this had a lot to do with his soldiers’ deep admiration for him. His unwavering belief in his own abilities and in his prophesized fate of becoming a “big man”, nourished his conviction that his role was to safeguard Nepal’s stability, to protect its constitution and rule of law – no matter who was in power.
Above all, amidst the interminable political intrigue and backstabbing, Katawal emerges as man of self-empowerment – a man who, against all odds, transcended social prejudice and rose to the top of the military at precisely the moment in history when his country most needed him. Decade after decade, his story offers an insider’s view of the machinations going on behind the closed doors of Nepal’s power elite. Reading the general’s autobiography is, in essence, reading the timeline of Nepal’s struggle to emerge as a modern day democracy.
As might be expected, although Katawal has now retired from the Army, he keeps up an exhaustive schedule of reading, traveling, physical fitness, public functions, private ceremonies, and speaking at conferences and media programs.
His most recent project is the launching of Katawal Trust, an organization dedicated to improving the lives of Nepali people through education and supporting social reform to better equip the nation in dealing with the international dynamics of the 21st century.
(Note: katawaltrust.com will be launched in the upcoming weeks, where you can learn more about the not-for-profit organization.)
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December 2, 2014
LINK HERE FOR PROMOTIONAL VIDEO
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December 6, 2011
By Saransh Sehgal
DHARAMSALA, India - Tibet's government in exile says there has been a sharp drop in the number of Tibetans fleeing to join the refugee community in Dharamsala.
According to records provided by the reception center for new arrivals from Tibet in Dharamsala, there have been just 2,500 arrivals since 2008. In the years 2004 to 2007, new arrivals totaled 12,000, while this year there have been only 600.
Continue reading "Asia Times article with Mikel Dunham: “Nepal bends to China over Tibet”" »
August 10, 2011
To Order Link here: PASEKA PUBLISHERS
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June 8, 2011
FOR VIDEO and how you can help: CLICK HERE
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October 31, 2010
Including a new film clip interview with Ray Starke
In my book, Buddha’s Warriors, former CIA instructors at Camp Hale (the top-secret facility located near Leadville, Colorado), talked about the remrkable character and ability of the Tibetan warriors, who they had been tasked to train for reinfiltration into Tibet, thereby augmenting the Tibetan resistance already in full bloom against the Chinese invasion of their country.
Here is an excerpt:
May 20, 2010
One of the most tantalizing aspects of delving into history occurs when a long-buried story suddenly surfaces and sheds light on a key question previously thought unanswerable. It happened to me this week and it unfolds like a labyrinthine detective story with a large cast of characters.
The unsolved mystery was: In the 1950s, how much did Phala, the Dalai Lama’s Lord Chamberlain – who served as the gatekeeper between the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan freedom fighters – tell his master about the CIA connection?
The CIA never discovered the answer, nor did I unravel the riddle during my writing of Buddha’s Warriors: The Story of the CIA-Backed Tibetan Freedom Fighters, the Chinese Invasion, and the Ultimate Fall of Tibet.
Then, two days ago, I posted a four-minute clip from Kefiwork’s upcoming documentary CIA in Tibet, which included some rare archival footage of Phala (uncovered by director Lisa Cathey in Washington DC). In the post, I related the story about the late Roger E. McCarthy, (the architect of the CIA Tibetan Task Force and the top-secret training camp in Camp Hale Colorado,) bemoaning the fact that he had failed to debrief Phala before the Lord Chamberlain’s demise in Switzerland. Roger died convinced that the answer had been buried with Phala.
Continue reading "Mystery behind Dalai Lama’s Lord Chamberlain Solved: Lhamo Tsering’s History" »
April 11, 2010
“Khampas and CIA against Mao and Zhou”
Like many kids growing up in the 1970s and early 80s, Tibet, for me, was a fabled arcane land occupied by China. In my imagination, Tibet was limited to Lhasa, Buddhism, and the Potala Palace.
A few years ago, while flying over the Tibetan Plateau on my way to Beijing, I was intrigued to see vast stretches without any sign of settlement. I wondered how Tibetans in the early 50s were able to find their way around while fighting against the well-equipped People’s Liberation Army.
As a kid, I had heard about the Khampa resistance backed by the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), but there was very little information available on the low-profiled guerrilla war. I had to be content with snippets of news available at times, until I finally came upon Mikel Dunham’s book “Buddha’s Warriors.”
Buddha’s Warriors is a provocative book that tells you about the history, culture and social fabrics of Tibet, Tibetan rule on Tibet, and its relations with China before Mao Zedong invaded it. My initial apprehension to start this book withered as I started reading it.
Mikel narrates the story of Tibet in the 40s and 50s, emphasizing the lack of cohesion among the Tibetans themselves, the timidity of high officials, the lackadaisical attitude of residents of Lhasa and the lack of communication. These were a few reasons, among many, that contributed to the failure of the Tibetan resistance movement.
The author highlights the role of the Dalai Lama without prejudices. Like many Tibetans, HH Dalai Lama, too, was kept in the dark about the imminent problems that Tibet was going to face.
One of the most important issues that “Buddha’s Warriors” raises is the recruitment of Khampas by the CIA to push the agitation further, without the knowledge of India to foster an anti-Communist insurgency. Mikel scathingly attacks India’s first prime minister Jawaharlal Nehru for his indifferent attitude towards the Tibetans, which further made it difficult to internationalize the Chinese aggression against Tibet.
Based on interviews with several survivors of the Tibetan resistance movement and CIA officials involved in this secret operation over the period of seven years, the book is a vivid account of horrors, atrocities and barbarism that Tibetans were (and still are) forced to endure while resisting the advances made by the Chinese Army. Change in guard in the US was a big blow to the Khampa warriors, and it forced the CIA to abandon its operations.
Mikel appears to be emotionally charged in the book and strongly condemns the Chinese. Nonetheless, the writer also criticizes the Lhasans for their nonchalant attitude to problems faced by other Tibetan areas.
The convergence of myth and reality in the present-day Tibet is the indication of what lies inside the Pandora’s Box for Tibet and Tibetans in the future. With the growing influence of China in global politics, many countries may find the Tibetan issue trivial.
The book fails to analyze the future of the Tibetan movement that has protracted despite the disbanding of the Khampa Resistance movement. Even so, the occasional angry outbursts, which come from Tibetans, clearly echo the sentiments of Tibetans for their homeland.
The last paragraph of the book surmises what Tibet is for the posterity: Perhaps Maitreya, the future Buddha, will locate Tibet in people’s hearts rather than on a page in an atlas – thus bringing Tibet’s mysteries full circle to a time, before 1950, when it was just a blank space on a classroom globe.
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September 17, 2009
In Buddha’s Warriors, my history of the Tibetan freedom fighters, I wrote about the 1974 demise of Tibetan armed resistance at Tinker’s Pass from the Tibetan point of view.
A few weeks ago, however, I posted a never-before-published photograph (by Lisa Choegyal) of the Tibetans’ leader, General Wangdu, taken a few weeks before his murder at Tinker’s Pass. (Click here for article) The article had the unexpected result of correspondence received containing many new details about the Nepal Army’s role in nailing the endgame of Tibetan armed resistance – moreover, from primary sources – Nepalis who either took part in the 1974 NA operation or who are descendents of NA officers.
AUGUST 26, 2009
In the 1970s, General Wangdu was the last leader of the thirteen camps of Tibetan freedom fighters hiding out in Mustang. His murder – he was ambushed at Tinker’s Pass in 1974 – marked the end of Tibetan armed insurgency against China’s People’s Liberation Army. When I wrote Buddha’s Warriors, The Story of the CIA-Backed Tibetan Freedom Fighters, the Chinese Invasion, and the Ultimate Fall of Tibet, I sifted through thousands of old photos kept by Tibetan refugees, in search of shots of Wangdu, but I came up with only two. Several years ago, I mentioned to a friend of mine – and longtime denizen of Kathmandu – how unfortunate it was that there were so few images of Wangdu. My friend was Lisa Choegyal, co-author (along with Gautam SJB Rana) of the recently published Kathmandu Valley Style. (click here for review) Lisa looked at me and said, “You know, I photographed Wangdu a few months before his death. I wonder where it is?”
Last week, Lisa happened upon this long-lost and rare image of Wangdu and forwarded it to me. The note attached explained that Wangdu had posed for Lisa “in front of the Annapurna Hotel cacti. He looks so young to have had such a responsibility of leadership on his shoulders. He was a commanding presence, even zooming around Kathmandu on the back of a motorbike, which is what we did together, him never without an armed bodyguard. Maybe that cord you can see around his neck is related to carrying a pistol? His English was not great, but you can see his enthusiasm and the passion for life and his committed cause in the picture. It was March 1974, and my memory was he was in (what turned out to be) the last round of negotiations with the Nepal authorities to cease hostilities with the Chinese - it was a frustrating time for him, as he must have suspected the costs of his decision.”
For those of you unfamiliar with the story, the freedom fighters of Tibet, called the Chushi-Gangdruk had risen in resistance to the Chinese takeover of Tibet in the 1950s. They were estimated to be 80,000-strong at the time of the Dalai Lama’s escape from Tibet in 1959. The sheer number of PLA deployed into Tibet eventually forced the Chushi-Gangdruk to retreat to the Nepali area of Mustang, where they continued to make incursions on the PLA throughout the 1960s. The first leader of the Mustang forces was Baba Gen Yeshi, who proved to be corrupt. Not only did he pocket funds intended for the troops, but bribed Tibetan refugees attempting to escape Tibet through Mustang by having his subordinates appropriate their sacred statues, thankas and other valuables.
Wangdu was brought to Mustang to replace Baba Gen Yeshi. Baba Gen Yeshi never forgave Wangdu and would eventually betray him and the Tibetan freedom fighters.
The story continues with an excerpt from Buddha’s Warriors:
King Mahendra, who, in the past had handled the Mustang question by simply looking the other way, died in 1972. The heir apparent, Prince Birendra, was eager to improve relations with China. He had made a trip to Beijing the year before and – now that he had become king – wanted the Tibetans out of Mustang at all costs. By 1973, 20 percent of Nepal’s much-needed foreign aid was coming from Beijing. Finally, toward the insistence of the Chinese, the young King Birendra publicly demanded that the Mustang guerillas surrender or face the consequences.
One of the commanders under General Wangdu, Tinzing Jyurme, described the Chushi-Gangdruk’s reaction in Mustang:
I had been up there since 1960. What would you do if you had spent the last twelve or thirteen years freezing your ass off? We were ready to fight. We were willing to fight the whole Nepalese army, if we had to. We weren’t afraid of the Nepalese, and they knew it.
It was Wangdu who calmed us down. He reminded us that there were many thousands of Tibetan refugees living in Pokhara and Kathmandu – many were relatives of ours and all of them were guests of the Nepalese government. And there were a lot of Nepalese who weren’t very happy about our presence anyway. If we fought the Nepalese Army, we would only create additional hardships for our families. We knew Wangdu was right, but I also knew that Wangdu would never just give up.
Nevertheless, King Birendra’s ultimatum was temporarily – quite literally – put on ice. A brutal Mustang winter arrived, and the accompanying snowfall closed off passage into and out of Mustang. Nothing could be done until the spring of 1974. But even after the March and April thaws had cleared the mountain passes, Wangdu refused to initiate surrender.
It is possible that he was waiting for some cue from the Dalai Lama’s Government-in-Exile in Dharamsala, India. It is equally possible – during that last, desolate winter – that he made the decision to go out in glory rather than admit defeat. Over the last fifteen years, Wangdu had experienced Tibet’s organized resistance being squeezed and shoved around by every conceivable outside force: First they had been pushed out of their own country by the PLA; then they had been refused sanction while on Indian soil; then they were abandoned by the Americans because, apparently, Nixon wanted to make friends with Wangdu’s mortal enemies, the communists; then they had been betrayed by the vampiric Baba Gen Yeshi – a Tibetan and, even worse, a fellow Khampa; and now, finally Wangdu’s army was being evicted by the Nepalis. One thing was certain: Wangdu was a warrior. To imagine Wangdu simply giving up and settling down in the pacific squalor of a refugee camp was unthinkable.
On April 19, 1974, Lhamo Tsering, a Tibetan who had acted as the go-between the Government-in-Exile and the Mustang troops, was arrested by the police in Pokhara and jailed – to be used as ransom – his life in exchange for Wangdu’s. After Lhamo’s arrest the word went out: Anyone helping the Mustang rebels would now be treated as an enemy of the Nepali government.
In May, Baba Gen Yeshi had a meeting in Kathmandu with the brass of the Royal Army. He announced that he was prepared to identify all the Mustang commanders and provide the army with exact locations of the commanders’ respective magars. (Although the amount is debated, Baba Gen Yeshi was rewarded substantially by the monarchy.) A week later, forty-eight of Baba Gen Yeshi’s followers, acting as guides, led army officiers to Mustang and instructed them where the magars were located. [Note: the RNA officer in charge of the Tinker Pass operation was Brig. Gen. Aditya SJB Rana.]
Wangdu’s spies kept him apprised of movement to the south, but, in the meantime, Wangdu’s scouts also reported that a small contingent of Chinese troops had crossed into Mustang from the north – dangerously close to where Tinzing Jyurme’s group had its headquarters. Wangdu’s worst fear had become a reality: The Royal Army was now working in concert with the PLA. To make matters worse, at Jomsom, the southernmost town in Mustang, the Royal Army built a heliport, while ten thousand troops marched up the Kali Gandaki Valley. It was a Sino-Nepali trap.
General Wangdu held an emergency meeting. He told his commanders that they had no choice but to strike a deal with the Nepalis before the PLA made their next move from the north. They would surrender half of their weapons and ammunition on the condition that the Nepalis released Lhamo Tsering, who was still in the Pokhara jail. Upon his release, they would surrender the rest of their weapons. Two days later, half the rebels surrendered their weapons in Jomsom. Wangdu waited for the news that Lhamo Tsering had been freed. The news never came. The Nepalis reneged on their half of the bargain.
In the meantime, the Dalai Lama’s Government-in-Exile was being pressured by the Indians to intervene. The Dalai Lama recorded a message on a tape recorder, which was then hand-delivered to the Mustang resistance. From magar to magar, the rebels heard the voice of the Dalai Lama asking them to put down their arms.
Tinzing Jyurme described the rebel’s reaction:
Many of us cried when we heard His Holiness’ words. In our hearts we couldn’t go against the Dalai Lama’s wishes, but neither could we surrender after already losing so much. Besides, if we surrendered, what would the Nepalese do to us? They had already betrayed us over the release of Lhamo Tsering.
Rather than go against the Dalai Lama, some of the guys committed suicide. Pachin, one of the five commanders, cut his own throat. He did it with so much power that his head fell off. Tsewang Gyapo, my personal secretary, also killed himself. He climbed up to the top of an old rock building that was high above the river and just jumped without saying anything to anyone. They wandered around crying, like they didn’t even know where they were.
According to Tinzing Jyurme, Wangdu was more afraid of Baba Gen Yeshi’s men than he was of the Royal Army or the PLA: Wangdu knew that if he surrendered, the Nepalese would let Baba Gen Yeshi’s men have their way with him. But I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. At that point, I don’t think Wangdu cared if he lived or died. What was really bothering him was that he had certain things he didn’t want the Nepalese to get their hands on: an American wireless and important documents, including ones that involved the CIA.
Roger E. McCarthy, the man who created the CIA Tibetan Task Force later agreed with Tinzing Jyurme’s explanation. McCarthy told me: “Wangdu did have key documents, including not only records of the Mustang force, but names of those who had helped the resistance efforts in various ways, plus financial records…Wangdu was intent upon reaching India with this valuable cargo. That was his main motivation for making a run for it. He was not the kind of man to concern himself with personal safety. He sure as hell was not afraid to fight the Chinese nor, for that matter, anyone.”
Wangdu sent most of the remaining troops to Jomsom, which he hoped would stall the army long enough so that he could escape to India. He and a small contingent of his closet followers headed west on horseback. It was mountainous and hard riding. On the thirteenth day of his escape, some Nepalis spied him on the move in Dolpo. The news was radioed to Jomsom. Thus, the Royal Army knew he was headed west.
By late August, Wangdu and his men had reached Jumla. In the interim, flight had been hellish. His route darted back and forth over the Tibetan border, including several skirmishes with small units of PLA. At one point, Wangdu pulled up short at a spot overlooking a large Chinese encampment: He was forced to backtrack deep into the Nepali mountains, which cost him time he could ill afford to lose. He and his men had ridden hard the whole way, and his men were near exhaustion.
But in late August, the end was in sight. Wangdu had one last mountain pass to cross: Tinker-La. On the other side was India.
What Wangdu didn’t know was that he was riding into a trap. The Royal Army had correctly intuited that Tinker’s Pass would be Wangdu’s choice for escape. They had set up a large ambush group toward the summit of Tinker-La.
About a mile from the pass, Wangdu’s men requested to stretch their legs before making the final ascent. Wangdu allowed most of them to dismount, but he took six men with him in search of forage and water for the horses. The men who were left behind watched their leader disappear over a small rise. A few seconds later, they heard gunfire. Without saying a word, they remounted and galloped toward the shooting. They got to the crest of hill just in time to see that all of Wangdu’s men were down and that Wangdu – the only one still on horseback – was charging straight into enemy fire.
Wangdu was shot off his horse. His horse continued to gallop without him. Firefights between the Royal Army and the remaining rebels continued throughout the day. Sixteen Tibetans circled around the army and managed to scale Tinker-La from a different direction, where a recess in the mountain hid them from view.
A helicopter was dropped in. Wangdu’s body was identified and flown back to Kathmandu.
Tinzing Jyurme recounts the rest:
King Birendra made a big show of his army’s victory. Right in the center of Kathmandu, he set up a large tent so that the public could see what the Royal Army had done. He had all of Wangdu’s personal effects spread out on tables: his rings, his wristwatch, his gua, his sword, his rifle, the wireless, some personal photographs he had carried with him – everything.
But the big prize was Wangdu himself. The king had his corpse put on display. Thousands of Nepalese came and filed by his mutilated body – this went on for several days before the stench got so bad that they had to close down the show.
Tinzing Jyurme, Lhamo Tsering and five other captured leaders were jailed for the next seven years.
Across town, Baba Gen Yeshi settled into a life of urban comfort, surrounded by a score of ex-rebels who catered to his every need. His business ventures thrived. He even created a little museum open to the public, which housed first-rate Tibetan artifacts. Tibetan refugees could go in and revisited possessions that had once been theirs.
The Tibetan resistance was over.
From Mikel Dunham’s Buddha’s Warriors
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Posted by Mikel Dunham in Dunham's books, Nepal's Military, Tibetan issues - Past & Present | Permalink
November 29, 2008
From time immemorial Tibetans have relished theatrical performances. Even in the more remote areas of Tibet, hundreds of years ago, there was a tradition of traveling minstrels crossing great distances to unpack their costumes and put on shows wherever they could find a crowd. Yak caravans or pilgrims who had seen the minstrels along the mule paths would notify villagers in advance. The actors were a distinctive group: The hats they wore were maroon and conical with pointy tops that flopped from side to side with cream-colored tassels. Their repertoire was based on a mixture of religious teachings and folk tales, with clear-cut villains and heroes – morality plays of good against evil.
After Mao’s People’s Liberation Army invaded Tibet in 1949, the communists brought with them their own brand of theatrical productions, propagandistic in tone and content, and mandatory viewing for the Tibetans. The theme was always the same: The Tibetan estate owners and lamas had kept the serfs in bondage for centuries, but Mao had come to liberate them from the evil aristocracy and the evil monasteries.
Today, theatrical productions written, staged and performed at refugee settlements are still quite popular and a staple of exile settlement existence. The photographs (below) record a political drama recently mounted at a Pokhara camp, illustrating the treatment that Tibetans living in Tibet continue to receive from the Chinese communists, whose ruthlessness remain the same in the 21st century.
On the other side of the mountains, seen from Pokhara, awaits the Tibetan border.
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November 23, 2008
Side Note: Deepak Bhujel, owner of Sahara Nepal Treks and Expedition has, time and again, helped me with my various projects in Nepal. This photography series is no exception. Thank you, Deepak.
click on images for enlargement
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November 2, 2008
On October 17, Tibetan refugees came out in large numbers for a peaceful celebration honoring the day His Holiness the Dalai Lama received the Congressional Medal in Washington. The photos were taken in Boudhanath.
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November 1, 2008
Nuns of Thukjechoeling nunnery at Swoyambunath coming outside after morning mass prayer.
Students of Shree Manjushree Primary School, Paljorling Tibetan Refugee Settlement.
Chenrenzig, Buddha, Guru Rinpoche: Swoyambunath
Tibetans washing clothes at one of two taps of Paljorling Tibetan Refugee Settlement. Most of the time there is a water shortage.
Kindergardeners at Paljorling.
Kyangchak Lama prostrating around the Swoyambunath.
Tashi Palkhil Tibetan Refugee Settlement, one of five settlements within the Gandaki zone, Kaski district, Nepal. Therre are approximately 1200 Tibetans living here.
View from the top of Shang Gadhen Choekhorling Monastery, Paljorling. To the left is Machapuchare (22,943 feet) and Annapurna (26,583 feet).
The old carpet factory at Paljorling, once providing jobs for 150 Tibetans, now closed because of failing European trade ventures.
Marpha apples come from the upper Kali Gandakhi valley and lower Mustang. They are delicious and famous in Nepal. Here Tibetans are buying Marphas in Pokhara.
Tibetan monk doing KORA at Swoyambunath.
Students at Shree Manjushree Primary School, Paljorling.
Making Momos at Sonam Restaurant, Pokhara. Profits from the business go to the Tibetans of the Paljorling settlement.
Flour storage and the making of kapsay.
Making kapsay.
Collecting water.
Tibetan monk reading Buddhist texts for alms at Swoyambunath.
Tibetans having tea and snacks after morning KORA at Swoyambunath at Nepalese-owned stalls.
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October 18, 2008
For those of you who missed the first installment: Last month I distributed digital cameras to numerous Tibetan refugees living in Nepal. Their assignment was to document their daily lives over the next several months. I will be posting pictures taken by these talented men and women in the near future. The names of the Tibetans will not be identified until the project is complete and published as a photojournalist volume.
Hand painted T-shirt and tatoos
Selling hard cheese and making sweaters for tourists, are two livelihoods for Tibetan women.
Vending Tibetan handbags and carpets to tourists.
Some Nepalese earn their living off of the Tibetans by tailoring monks' and nun's robes.
Tibetan making curry for his family.
A priority for Tibetan refugees is taking care of one of their most valuable possessions: their elderly.
Hawking Tibetan language newspaper published in Nepal.
Tibetan youths hangout: poolhall.
Often the lines of religious activity and commerce blend in the Tibetan refugee community. Here, at Boudhanath Stupa, the hub of Tibetan spiritual practice, refugees practice Chora (circling a holy shrine while chanting). As the sun rises, Tibetan farmers also bring their produce to sell once Chora is over.
Gyamchoe: the practice of lighting 100 butter candles for the deceased, believed to be auspicous for the dead relatives next rebirth.
A special altar set up in a Tibetan household where a member of the family is seriously ill. The brightly painted tormas (butter sculptures) are envisioned as wrathful, thus frightening away evil spirits.
Lining up to present a Rinpoche with katags (silk scarves), a traditional Tibetan way to express respect.
Monk with traditional shell mala (rosary).
Lama blesses a newly purchased motercycle, believed to help prevent mishaps on the bike.
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October 16, 2008
Caught in Nepal: Tibetan Refugees Photographing Tibetan Refugees
Last month I distributed digital cameras to numerous Tibetan refugees living in Nepal. Their assignment was to document their daily lives over the next several months. I will be posting pictures taken by these talented men and women in the near future. The names of the Tibetans will not be identified until the project is complete and published as a photojournalist volume. In the present format, titles seem superfluous. Eventually, a book will be created from this project called CAUGHT IN NEPAL: TIBETAN REFUGEES PHOTOGRAPHING TIBETAN REFUGEES.
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From the early 1960s to 1974, Tibetan freedom fighters congregated in Mustang, a high Nepalese principality jutting out over the Tibetan plain. Direct conflict with Mao Tse-tung’s People’s Liberation Party, which had overrun Tibet in the 1950s and forced the Fourteenth Dalai Lama to flee for his life in 1959, was negligible in Mustang. But the Tibetan resistance did stage incursions and lethal raids back inside Tibet, sometimes with significant reconnaissance results. In one instance, Tibetan freedom fighters killed an officer, then confiscated his leather satchel, which later revealed enough communist classified information for the CIA’s flagging interest in the resistance to be somewhat revived. One CIA officer later told me that there was enough information in that bag to supply them with “intel” for the next ten years. Washington assistance for the freedom fighters surged for a short time afterwards.
Continue reading "Dunham’s trip to Tibetan refugee camps in Nepal " »
September 3, 2008
In addition to the English, French, and Japanese versions of Buddha’s Warriors: The Story of the CIA-Backed Tibetan Freedom Fighters, the Chinese Invasion, and the Ultimate Fall of Tibet, TibetTimes (Dharamsala, India) has just published the Tibetan translation. The Tibetan edition was mounted in conjunction with the International Tibet Independence Movement (ITIM). The translation was funded by an anonymous foundation.
The Foreword to Buddha’s Warriors is by His Holiness the Dalai Lama.
Other translations are to follow. The Chinese version is near completion and the Czech translation has just been picked up by Paseka Publishers in Prague (whose translations include works by Vladimir Nabokov, Amos Oz, Salman Rushdie and John Updike.)
The French translation was published by Actes Sud and the Japanese was published by Kodansha Publishers (Tokyo).
The South Asian paperback edition was published by Penguin/India.
For reviews and related articles about Buddha's Warriors, click here: Buddha's Warriors
For more information about the new Tibetan translation, click here: TibetTimes
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July 30, 2008
I've been swamped with e-mails asking about an upcoming Christiane Amanpour documentary, which is being heavily promoted this week by CNN, called "Buddha's Warriors".
For the record, Amanpour's documentary, is not based on my fourth book.
The CNN promo reads:
"How do followers of a religion based on non-violence fight against severe political oppression [in Burma and Tibet specifically], while staying true to Buddha's teachings?"
My response:
"Read Buddha's Warriors, by Mikel Dunham, if you really want to know."
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Posted by Mikel Dunham in Dunham in the media, Dunham's books | Permalink
June 21, 2008
Le Gout du Tibet
Published by Mercure de France, 2008
An anthology of writers including
Mikel Dunham
Pema Chodron
Sogyal Rinpoche
Milarepa
Tenzin Gyatso, His Holiness the Dalai Lama
Henrich Harrier
Alexandra David-Neel
and others
available only in French: click here
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May 1, 2008
On 31 March 2008, the Communist Party of Cuba released a newly penned essay by 90-year-old Fidel Castro. It was brought to my attention because, ironically, Castro cites my book, Buddha’s Warriors, to serve his ideological treatise. The essay, “Reflections on Tibet/China”, is a lengthy and ambitious work intent on proving that China’s rule over Tibet circumscribes thousands of years. Castro praises China for its “legitimate” presence in Tibet, as well as the communist party’s handling of the current resistance inside Tibet. Here is the excerpt leading up to and including Buddha’s Warriors:
I'm not one for censorship, particularly when it comes to my own books. But lest anyone fall into the propaganda trap that the spruced-up "Beijing Olympics" version of Communist China signals a breakthrough for people's rights -- particularly freedom of speech -- here's a cautionary update. Tim Johnson is the Beijing Bureau Chief for the McClatchy Company, the third-largest newspaper organization in the United States. Johnson covers both China and Taiwan. On February 23, he posted the following in his blog CHINA RISES: Stopping 'false' ideas at the airport
I should have known. When I came back to China a few hours ago, returning from a five-week trip to Pakistan and Nepal, I was only concerned about one thing. I had an extra bag with two small Afghan carpets that I had bought in Islamabad. Would customs stop me and charge me duty? My Air China flight took me first to Lhasa, where we went through customs and immigration, then on to Chengdu and Beijing.
Sure enough, the agents stopped me at Lhasa airport even before I could pick up my bags. But it wasn’t the rugs. Instead, it was the little cloth bag with five new books I had bought in a Kathmandu bookstore the night before.
Continue reading "Mikel Dunham's "Buddha's Warriors" Confiscated by Chinese Authorities" »
Intelligence Officer's Bookshelf
Compiled and Reviewed by Hayden B. Peake
Curator of the CIA's Historical Intelligence Collection
May 30, 2006
In 1970, John MacGregor, better known to some at the time as CIA officer John Waller, published a book on the early history of Tibet. In 1997, retired CIA officer Roger E. McCarthy published his book, which describes his role in support of the CIA's assistance to the Tibetan resistance to China's occupation of Tibet, which began in 1950. Now author-artist Mikel Dunham has told another side of the Tibetan resistance story, for the first time from the point of view of the Tibetan participants...
Click
International Praise for BUDDHA'S WARRIORS
Journal of Buddhist Ethics on BUDDHA'S WARRIORS
London, June 2007, Volume XIV
Written by VIBHA ARORA
Department of Humanities and Social Sciences
The Indian Institute of Technology
Mikel Dunham’s Buddha’s Warriors is not a Shangri-La story about Tibet, but a sensitive historical account of the valiant warrior Khampas armed resistance to Chinese colonialism: a tribute to Tibet’s freedom fighters. This heart-rending and gripping account is based on interviews of persons who actively participated in the armed resistance in Kham and are now living in refugee camps and settlements in India and Nepal.
Posted by Mikel Dunham in Dunham in the media, Dunham's books | Permalink
Published by Kodansha International Ltd., Tokyo
Interview with author
Flash Magazine, Tokyo
Continue reading "Japanese Translation of BUDDHA'S WARRIORS" »
Posted by Mikel Dunham in Dunham's books | Permalink
LES GEURRIERS DU BOUDDHA
Just published in France by Actes Sud
Pub date: January 2007. Now available at www.amazon.fr.com
RÉSUMÉ DU LIVRE : Ecrit par un Américain, artiste et écrivain, spécialiste du Tibet, ce livre retrace son enquête sur la résistance tibétaine au moment de l'invasion chinoise de 1959. Le récit chronologique, bien mené et très fouillé, est par ailleurs étoffé des témoignages de ceux qui vécurent cette période et parfois combattirent contre les Chinois. Dunham mène son récit avec une grande subtilité pour insérer les témoignages, qu'il a pour la plupart recueillis lui-même. Ceux-ci couvrent la période précédant l'invasion jusqu'à aujourd'hui : les personnes interrogées décrivent la vie quotidienne à la campagne ou en ville, et rappellent notamment que les Chinois étaient déjà présents avant le conflit, mais seulement pour commercer ; elles abordent aussi la question de l'avenir du Tibet compte tenu de la présence plus que massive d'immigrants chinois, tandis que la diaspora tibétaine vieillit et reste impuissante, en Inde ou ailleurs.
Posted by Mikel Dunham in Dunham's books | Permalink
Posted by Mikel Dunham in Dunham's books | Permalink
SAMYE: A Pilgrimage to the Birthplace of Tibetan Buddhism
With a Foreword by H. H. the Dalai Lama 196 photographs
to veiw photos from "Samye" click here
Posted by Mikel Dunham in Dunham's books, Photography, Tibetan issues - Past & Present | Permalink