Wisdom of gods in a village called Tormashong

(Author’s Note: This article is an attempt in understanding the indigenous practice of sustainable human coexistence with nature. It does not reflect or indicate any improper management or highlight any issues related as improper. Nor does it indicate any management practices as excellence per se. The names and positions of the persons are not.)

Memay[1] Sangay Dhendup had a gloomy look in his face. He was packing the bamboo baskets to move his cattle once again. This time it was south to the lowlands. He had woke up early, let loose the cows, restocked the calf pen with grass and looked around making sure that no calf had sneaked out at night. He contemplated. By 10 o’clock they would have finished breakfast and would have milked the cows. An hour or later, they would be on the way south, to the lowlands. He thought, once again the day and the following would be very hectic till they come back to the uplands after more than three months in the lowlands.

The neighbors Kezang and Dorji, three days ago had moved their cows to the lowlands. Yesterday a group of four had moved, Karpo, Sangay, Nado and Nachen. Others were soon to follow. The migration was compulsory. All cows in the uplands had to migrate south by the end of March. This was an annual practice.

The spring cattle migration to the lowlands was an order from the religious community. The religious community considers spring to be a crucial season in the calendar. They believe that the five elements, Water, Fire, Earth, Iron and Wind all awake after the winter hibernation. The head lama of the community justifies the religious community’s decision… The upland deities are the guardians of all five elements. They are active during the spring. We need to appease them.

The religious community believes that the upland deities should be invoked during this season. The deities must be left to themselves with no disturbance. The community fears harsh consequences if the deities are proved. These consequences manifest in the form of strong winds, early rain and drought. Crops would be burnt by sun possibly leading to famine. The deities may even inflict diseases both to people and cattle. Such is the fear among the community of provoking the upland deities called Tsen[2] during their retreats.

The spring cattle migration therefore is a must. The community herders sharing the upland grazing areas must leave the area. There should not be any disturbances. The deities are to be all by themselves. The upholding of these beliefs is so strong. The cattle migration dare not be questioned.

For Memay Sangay Dhendup it has been an annual ritual moving cattles up and down for many losars. But he always had a second thought moving down to the lowlands during spring. Memay worryingly says, “Taking cattle down to lowlands during spring, I always don’t feel comfortable. Fields are cultivated with early crops as maize, buckwheat, paddy seeds and many more. Shoots are already out. Keeping cows away from them is a tiring job.” True to his words, there is reason to be worried. Topographically the fields are all scattered with patches of uncultivated areas and woodlands in between. These uncultivated areas and woodlands are used for grazing during spring. It is not much preferred in comparison to highland areas. Reasons are aplenty for preferences but more worrying is that everyone has their cattle in the area. There is a rush for better pastureland. To make it worse, fields are cultivated limiting the area for grazing. These urge the herder to take cattle even further south, in search of better fodder to areas ungrazed during other seasons.

For herders like Memay Sangay its been always safer to keep the cows away from the fields. The closer they are more likely is the trouble. “We have a patch of grazing land here and next is a huge maize field with no proper fence. After it again is a patch of grazing land. Just taking cattle across the field from one grazing land to another is a big headache. Imagine guarding them against those tempting green shoots!” says Memay.

For an agrarian society spring is a busy season. Every family member is engaged in preparing the field for cultivation. With no help around, grazing cattle indeed is a tiring job. Memay Sangay shyingly mentions of the failure to perform duty sometimes, “Last year, I paid to Kencho, forty gayl-tse-kha-lo[3] of maize as compensation. That cow of mine had sneaked into his field and ate almost one-third of his maize field at Dogang.”

Reasons of failure to guard cows against the fields are aplenty too. During the season, the herder is all by himself and is unable to manage. Sometimes cows are too aggressive to be controlled. At other times, its ara[4] to be blamed. And occasion for ara is frequent. One such occasion is the day the family plants its fields. During the meal its customary that ara is served well. Next day is a D-day explains Memay Sangay, “You have headache, body-ache, all sorts of aches depending on the amount you consumed yesterday. And grazing cattles in such condition is absolute disaster.’’ He regrets the maize lost in compensation to Kencho. The other common occasion is when neighbours invite the herders for an ara session when they are home. People at home pity the herders for being in the jungle for most of the time. Drinks are usually offered to share the distress of the herders. But for some, ara always taste good, just as the stray cows relish the tender shoots of crops.

Memay Sangay reflects that it has been just two months since he moved to the uplands from winter grazing in lowlands. During winter, cattle were kept in all fields owned by the family at various places. Cows were tied in a particular spot for three to four days so that the fields are manured. There were no winter crops around. Children were home on holiday from schools. They help to graze cattle. Winter is the time for the family to get together, sit around the fire with no worries of cattles straying. And there is plenty of ara. Winter, despite not having much fodder, is always easier to graze cattle.

He wonders why in the spring when buds are blossoming and grasses growing greener, they have to migrate once again to the lowlands. The lowland grazing was never pleasant for him, nor was it for any herder.

The spring cattle migration is a difficult concept to be understood by the community. The Mang Ap remarks, “Memay Sangay was born in the year of horse, I in the year of Ox. I am much, much younger than him. This spring migration is to appease the Tsen. That’s what they say (religious community). It has been practised since my great grandfathers’ time. And we must too.” Memay Sangay has a second thought on the necessity of the practice against the present realities such as increasing population, expanding cultivation area and decreasing grazing space.

The Mangi Ap[5] feels it is modern times. The village now has a primary school, a basic health unit, agri-extension office, a gup’s office in the middle of the village and a motor road that runs through the lower part of village. “We never had these facilities before. It is development,” says Mangi Ap. “Its modern time and the Tsens should give way too.” He relates an example of community belief. A Naypo residing at the bottom of village is believed to have left the cliff during construction of motor road. Mangi Ap explains dramatically how engineers came with Indian labourers and blasted their way through the cliff. The dynamites and dozers proved too strong for the Nyapo to reside there any longer. The belief is…it just left. But no one knows in which direction it left or where it resides now. But community as a whole agrees that the Nyapo[6] has left. The young Mangi Ap wonders, “Why shouldn’t the Tsens be accommodating as well?”

The gup agrees that it is difficult to continue the practice of spring cattle migration. However, he strongly insists that the spring cattle migration must be practised. It is the part of the community culture and people must respect it. He explains there are plenty of spaces for grazing and the herders’ complaints are not genuine. Moreover, it’s only for duration of little more than three months. The gup acknowledges the herders’ reservation of the migration. He proudly praises the wisdom of forefathers. They had developed a system to ensure the migration is complied by all. “The system of ensuring that all follow the order is as old as the migration itself. And no one knows when the migration was first initiated.”

The gup explains the village is divided into two zones, the upper village and the lower village. Further, each zone is divided into two groups. In total, it has four groups. From each group, one person is nominated to be the Tshab-tashi, the caretaker of crops for a certain period. Any disputes related crops is settled by the Tshab-tashi[7]. If the dispute is not resolved, it is brought to the gup who further refers to the dzongkhag court, then to the High Court.

The four Tshab-tashis are also entrusted to ensure that the community to the spring cattle migration. Community holds them accountable if the Tsen is provoked. Tshab-tashis make round of the highland grazing area a week before the deadline for migration. They inform herders of the last day to be out of the area. They make another round after the last day. They make regular rounds to ensure that there is no encroachment. Except for a cow or two straying into the highland area there has been no other disputes. The community reveres the Tsen highly and so is the cattle migration practice.

The gup authoritatively says, “Herders must definitively migrate. During the season not even people are allowed to visit the areas till the Tsen’s retreat is over.” Only when the religious community declares that the retreat of the Tsen is over, herders move their cattle gradually to highlands. Cattle reach the highest grazing point by mid August. Herders take the migration gradually because they fear the immature higher altitude fodder would cause indigestion for the cattle. Moreover, there are abundant grasses in lower area. Some herders say the taste of ara is too strong to move hastily far away from home.

But like Kunimo, household ladies are always optimistic of the spring cattle migration. She says shyly, “When I need my husband’s help most, he brings cattle closer to home. My old father swaps the job. It helps a lot. If it was not for the compulsory migration, SomTen would not most likely come home.”

The forester, who is in-charge of the region’s forestry management, has a different opinion of the spring cattle migration. He considers it an effective indigenous method of sustainable forestry management. During spring when there is a natural growth of forest, absence of cattle in highland permits the forest to revive densely. The natural revival of forest helps to sustain catchment area and balance the eco-system. Herders move cattle upland when the forest is once again replenished. The forest is able to sustain the cattle for four months. After four months nature takes its own course. It becomes cooler and herders are forced to migrate once again to lowlands. This time it’s the autumn season migration. A rejoiced migration for herders after spending summer in the mountains amidst clouds, mist, rain, leeches, flies and wild animals.

The forester has an opinion of the village topography too. The village is said to be located on a fragile topographical feature. The presence of boulders is abundant. Pebbles are prominent in the fields and there are sharp steep features of landscape to confirm the fragility of the village landscape. The forester, with a strong reason regards the spring cattle migration enforced by religious community very crucial in balancing the delicate eco-system of the community. He wonders it must be “wisdom of gods in a village called Tormashong.” But community folks like Memay Sangay Dhendup, who had celebrated as many as 66 losars still wonders the wisdom of spring cattle migration, an annual obligatory event, a bit mystifying too.