The Young Chieftain of the Himalayas: A Tibetan Tale Published in France
The tale unfolds in Dobu, a secluded district within Nepal's northwestern Himalayas, where powerful winds sweep the land and plant life barely endures. The soil is unproductive, precipitation is sparse, and the cultivation window is short, making it hard for the local people, who depend on barley farming to sustain themselves. This narrative bears the title "ཧི་མ་ལ་ཡའི་ན་གཞོན་ཚོ་དཔོན་ཞིག་གི་གཏམ་རྒྱུད།" ("The Story of the Himalayan Young Chieftain") and includes "The Dobo Salt Shipping Team.
The people of Dobu keep yaks, which are large, furry, and slow-moving animals prized for their resilience in the harsh, cold, rugged, and high-altitude mountain areas where vegetation is sparse. From these animals, they obtain essentials like yak wool, leather, yogurt, cheese, and dried yak dung used as fuel. Each year, they travel to the northern parts of Tibet to gather rock salt, a vital resource for communities whose meals are based on grains.
While young Tsering collected a large armful of barley, the golden grains swayed gently in the breeze. "Grandfather, look!" he called out. The salt-trading caravan, made up mostly of yaks, made its way through Nepal's valleys to barter salt for grains. That journey took several weeks as they crossed high mountain passes, often facing harsh weather. A sudden blizzard could bring disaster to the entire caravan. Lhapka had met a tragic end while traveling to transport salt.
Lhapka, Tsering’s father and the village’s young leader, has spent several weeks guiding a salt-collecting team across mountains and valleys. When a villager optimistically insisted that the gathered harvest would last everyone a lifetime and keep them from hunger this winter, Grandfather Tinle smiled. He replied that although the crop was indeed abundant, it would still fall short; to carry the entire village through the winter, they would have to travel to the settlement on the far side of the mountain and exchange for more grain.
The earth trembled beneath young Tsering's feet as he hurried home. "Grandfather, the salt caravan is returning!" he called out, "The salt caravan has come back!" Dust swirled in the wind as the villagers assembled at the village's edge, the approaching sound of running cattle growing louder with each moment. The pounding of hooves seemed to shake the very air. Tsering had been eagerly awaiting his father's arrival, missing him deeply. Yet once his father returned, he would need to depart again with the team to barter for more grain.
Karma led the lead cow toward the villagers. He explained, "Lhapka lost his life because he wanted to find a shorter route. I warned him that the road was too dangerous, but he didn't listen." Grandpa Tinle angrily interrupted him. After the dust had settled, young Tsering saw the most tragic sight: his father's body was hanging on the lead cow, and his mother was in despair.
He shouted, "You are a fraud! You have always been jealous of Lhapka. You wanted to be the new leader, so you killed my son!" Saddened, Karma shook his head and replied, "Lhapka was my best friend! I would never harm him." At home, Grandpa Tinle told the entire family, "Since Lhapka is dead, his son Tsering must inherit the position of leader. Until he becomes of age, I will take charge of the salt caravan myself, but I need a strong young man to help me." Yet Tinle could not persuade any of the village's young men to join him.
Tsering felt afraid when his grandfather led him to the blacksmith's tent outside the village, and he wondered why he had been brought there. He knew the village oracle had decreed that the salt caravan must leave in ten days, which he considered enough time. In the meantime, Tinle was making preparations with the salt-carrying team for their departure. As for who should lead, some argued that Karma ought to be the new leader, since he was the bravest among them and frequently hit the target during archery.
Was it truly necessary for him to assume his father's role as leader of the salt caravan? "Come here, child," the blacksmith said. Tsering walked over, his steps hesitant. Once he was seated, the man took out a pendant strung with a tiny iron hammer and anvil, and fastened it around his neck. "Keep this with you—it will guard you against evil spirits and demons and ensure your safety along the way," the blacksmith told him. Tsering felt his unease settle as he tapped the small anvil with the iron hammer. His grandfather Tinle stood nearby, smiling.
Norbu had been studying at a monastery, where as a monk he spent most of his life painting a mural of the Buddha. The monastery was a two-day ride from the quiet village; grandfather Tinle set out on horseback at dusk on the second day and arrived there. "I have come to take you," Tinle said to his son Norbu. "Your brother has passed away. You must lead the salt caravan until Tsering comes of age." Norbu started to answer, "But father... I know nothing of the mountains, yaks, and salt.
Tinle asked whether he was afraid. Norbu answered firmly that he was not afraid to refuse, adding that his hands were intended for painting rather than hauling salt. Tinle left in anger and disappointment. Meanwhile, before Tinle even reached the village again, Karma had already prepared himself for the journey. He did not want to wait another ten days, since winter was drawing near and heavy snowfall would soon close the mountain passes.
Two days went by in complete stillness throughout the village. On the porch, Tsering stood and watched the group until they were mere specks in the distance, a deep sorrow weighing on his heart. Before that departure, the villagers had been divided in their views; the elders hoped Karma would delay, yet he succeeded in convincing the village's young men to join him. Together they chose the finest yaks from the grassland and placed sacks of salt across their backs. Once all was ready, Karma gave the word, and the young men moved out with the animals, the clatter of hooves resounding along the stone-strewn trail.
The villagers poured out of their houses to welcome Tinle, whose return was announced by a voice that suddenly cut through the night's stillness. They told him that Karma's salt caravan had already departed, taking the village's young people with it. "What? Where is the salt? Where is it?" Tinle roared. An old man answered, "Our salt was kept here. What are we to do now?" Tinle replied, "We'll do it the old way—depart on the days the gods indicate." A whisper spread among the people.
To get the salt caravan of elderly men and women across the Himalayas, they could take a shortcut along the cliff. On the second day, when the caravan departed, the village elders stayed close behind Tinle. Little Tsering and his mother brought up the rear, doing their best to match the yaks' pace. Since it was his first time with the caravan, Tsering felt overjoyed, but his small body soon found the long, grueling route too demanding.
Tsering, my foot hurts—will we keep walking like this tomorrow?" the boy grumbled. "We will, child. Plenty more days like this lie ahead, but before long your legs will grow tough as yak horns, and you'll be a genuine Dolpo-pa," his grandfather answered. The small caravan pressed on behind Tinle, day in and day out. "We've walked so much and never reached anywhere—I just want to go home," young Tsering griped. "I beg you, let's turn back; he's only a child," Tsering's mother urged.
The older members of the caravan shouted, "Tinle, do you want us to risk our lives?" as they found it increasingly difficult to match the group's pace. Tinle gestured toward Little Tsering, who had unexpectedly darted ahead, and said to his mother, "He is only a child now, yet one day he will lead the caravan from the front. A true Dolpo-pa never looks back; he is learning his instincts." (Note: Some names and terms have been left in their original form because they may not have exact English translations.)
Tsering pointed to the mountaintop and called out to his grandfather, "Look, Grandpa! That's Karma and his caravan up there!" His grandfather replied, "No, they're only pilgrims." Tsering asked what pilgrims were, and the old man explained, "People with faith who walk around the mountain." Tinle was saddened to learn from those pilgrims that Karma's caravan was already five days ahead of them. Suddenly, a bold idea crossed Tinle's mind.
Norbu, the Khenpo at the temple always advises that whenever you reach a fork in the road, you should pick the hardest path. Did he really say that? If so, then tomorrow we’ll take the cliff-side shortcut by the lake! "Go across the lake?" his teammates asked in disbelief. "But the lake is full of demons—we can never make it through." Little Tsering asked excitedly, "So would we get to see the demons?" His grandfather replied, "Yes, the lake does have demons, but since it’s a shortcut, we’re certain to catch up with Karma’s team.
At dawn, with Tinle leading the way, his caravan approached the lake, attempting to traverse the narrow cliff road. But they soon had to stop, for the road was blocked by fallen rocks. The yaks, trapped on the cliff edge, snorted angrily, and the caravan could no longer turn back on the narrow path. When the villagers had expressed their opposition, Tinle angrily retorted, "What are you going to eat this winter? Just your salt?" Lama Norbu hopelessly remarked, "Talking to Tinle is like talking to a yeti.
Tinle and an old man were close to the cliff, repairing the road by themselves. Once finished, Tinle led a leading white yak forward and said, "If you can come over, the rest of the yaks will follow." After a short pause, the white yak moved forward warily, and the other yaks did follow. But the fragile road base shook with every step. When the last yak had crossed, the road suddenly collapsed, and that yak fell into the steep cliff lake below. Little Tsering, terrified, held his mother tightly.
Tinle died after predicting a snowstorm. Before his death, he had turned and said, "One yak with two bags of salt can get us through this place, even this devil's punishment is worth it." When Tinle's caravan at last reached Karma, Karma was taking a rest in a temporary camp, with little Tsering on the lead yak. Karma said openly, "Tinle, if I had known you were following behind, I would have waited for you!" Tinle answered with pride, "I left according to the instructions of the gods!" Astonished, Karma shook his head to show he was confused.
Karma alone stayed behind with his yak team after everyone else chose to follow Tinle. Earlier that night, Tinle had tossed a handful of salt into the fire pit to ask the gods when the caravan should depart. The salt burned soundlessly in the damp air, and Tinle solemnly proclaimed this a sign of an oncoming snowstorm, insisting they must resume their journey at dawn despite being exhausted. Karma found the old man's prediction hard to accept, arguing that the grass was green and the sky clear, so there was no need to abandon their rest plans over a handful of salt. In the end, however, the others all sided with Tinle.
As the caravan moved onward, snow began to fall from the sky. Glancing back before departing, the villager murmured to himself, "In fact, Tinle and Karma are the same person." Little Tsering mumbled, "Grandpa was right!" Soon a powerful wind arose, making the snowfall even heavier. The group found it hard to advance, and Tsering could no longer walk. Norbu placed him on a yak and wrapped him in a thick blanket, saying, "Don't stop moving forward.
Upon reaching the camp, Tsering looked around anxiously and asked where his grandpa was. Lama Norbu was also deeply worried. Earlier, Tinle had shouted that if the caravan did not finish that leg of the journey that day, they would be trapped by snow. However, the caravan's exhausted members were already lagging behind. He then said he would go to the rear to make sure no one was lost and urged everyone to keep going. As he headed toward the back, he collapsed in the snow, and no one noticed.
Karma had found Tinle buried in the snow behind the group. Carrying Tinle on his back, he struggled through the blizzard. As the man turned back into the storm to look for his father, he spotted a familiar figure approaching. It was Karma with Tinle. Everyone hurried over to help, and Tinle slowly opened his eyes. He was alive, though no longer able to walk. The following day, when the caravan reached the mountain’s summit, Tinle was exceedingly weak and close to death.
Tinle passed away mid-sentence, and Tsering sobbed in grief. A prayer flag was held out so Karma could hang it at the mountain top, a gesture of devotion to the Buddha. Karma said, "I wish you were my father, Tinle." Tinle answered, "You are like a son to me. From this point forward, you are a leader of the Montepul people. Remember, when a chief guides his tribe, he has been entrusted by the spirits..." The young Tsering then sets out on his journey as a chieftain. "Tinle was right—he predicted the blizzard, but I did not," Karma remarked.
After the long and difficult journey finally concluded, they managed to trade their salt for enough food to sustain them through the winter. As the caravan made its slow way into the gorge, Norbu sat beside Tinle's body, chanting scriptures for him. "Had you not remained to assist, you would have been unable to save him," said Lama Norbu. Taking in his surroundings with curiosity, Little Tsering noticed how vastly different this place was from the environment where he had been raised. He wandered over to a verdant meadow and paused beneath a tall tree.
Never before had he seen a genuinely enormous tree. He desired to climb to its summit, from which he could gaze out over an extremely long road leading home. He felt ready to become a chief. About the author: Danzen Norbu, a lama, was born in 1971 in a small mountain village in Dobo. Growing up in a monastery, he studied painting in preparation for his life as a lama. One of his works, over eight meters in size, required six months to complete. Danzen Norbu is believed to be the incarnation of Norbu.
His illustrations are included in "The Story of the Himalayan Young Chief." He lives at present in Kathmandu, the capital of Nepal, yet each year he spends three months in Dolpo.