Because she is so good at reaching out to people, my aunt knows a few Tibetans well enough to invite them to dinner. One group was so much fun, and their joy in being together so obvious, that we met up with them twice in the same week.
It was hard to say what was more entertaining: the four Tibetans joking in Tibetan about this and that, or us listening to them laugh and then explain the jokes in their excellent English. Not everything we talked about was light-hearted, but these women had a way of smiling through tough times that made us want to bottle up their high spirits and share them with the whole planet.
They were also proud of their educations and of their country, without ever sounding superior. Out of nowhere one of them said, referring to her computer, “Guess what’s on my screen saver?” Our first thought was a picture of the Dalai Lama. We didn’t say it out loud, partly because that guess was too obvious, and partly because we weren’t sure how to refer to him in a public restaurant. Do you say “His Holiness?” “HH?” “He who must not be named?” She helped us out with a hint: “it’s not what you’re thinking.”
“A picture of your family?”
“Nooo,” she smiled. “Too easy.”
“Your village?”
“Getting closer.”
“A yak?”
She clapped her hands with delight before answering her own question. “You almost got it,” she squealed. “It’s yak shit!”
Of course. What better than dung to symbolize her herder childhood and the struggles of life in Tibet? The women collapsed on each other with laughter.
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