THE DIRTIEST PLACE ON EARTH.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLI, Issue 12602, 17 June 1904, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE DIRTIEST PLACE ON EARTH.

CRIME AND RELIGION ON THE ROAD TO LHASSA: . ~ Icy winds and suffocating smoke are not conducive tc literary style, writes the special correspondent of the Daily Mail, who is now with Colonel Youiighusband's mission on the road to Lhassa, though they sometimes inspire a rude eloquence that is quite unfit for publication. :•. ; %

As I scribble this by the messroom bra—our youngest optimist would not call it a firel catch an occasional and incisive phrase that exactly expresses the situation. Then. I envy the freedom of, speech of those who come in from a spell of fatigue duty, and can say what-they like for the rest of the evening, while I, who write for an enlightened public, must sacrifice force to euphemism. -- " A week at Phari dispels all illusions; only a bargee could adequately describe the place. Yet the elements are trusty councillors, who feelingly persuade me what 1 am, and they may perhaps inspire me with some of the eloquence of discomfort.

I'HAftl JONG. In my last letter I described the sylvan valley of Gautsa, where the air is scented with the fragrance of warm pine trees, and there is no indication of winter save the ie« •» the Ammo Chu. The torrent roars Wkterously beneath its frozen surface, and throws up little tentacles of frozen spray, which glisten fantastically in the sun.. Three miles further up the stream the wood-belt ends abruptly; then, after another three miles one passes the last stunted bush. After that there is nothing but brown earth and yellow withered grass. All the plain is undermined with the warrens of marmots and voles, who sit on their thresholds like a thousand little spies, and curiously watch our approach, then dive down into, their burrows to tell their wives of the strange bearded invaders. One envies them their warmth and smugness as one rides against the bitter winds that penetrate to the bone.

Twelve miles from Gautsa, a turn in the valley brings on© into view of Phari Jong. At first sight it might be a huge isolated rock, but as one approaches the bastions and battlements become more distinct. Distances are deceptive in this rarefied air, and objects that one imagines to -be quite close are sometimes found to be several miles distant. INSIDE TUB FORT. ( The fort is biylt on a natural mound m the plain. It is a huge, rambling building, six storeys high, surrounded by a courtyard, where mules and ponies are stabled. As a military fortification Phari Jong is by no means contemptible. The walls are of massive stonework, which would take heavy guns to demolish. The angles are protected from attacking parties by machicoulis galleries, and three enormous bastions project from each flank. These are crumbling in places, and the pioneers might destroy the bastion and breach the wall with two bags of guncotton. On the eastern side there is a square courtyard like an Arab caravanserai, "where cattle are penned. The fortress would hold the whole Tibetan army and provisions for them for a year.' It was evacuated the night before we reoccupied the valley. The interior of the Jong is a warren of stairs, landings, and dark cavernous rooms, ; which would take a whole day to explore. The walls are built of stone and mud, and coated with century-old smoke. There are no chimneys or adequate windows, and the filth is indescribable.

When Phari was first occupied 80 coolies were employed a whole week clearing refuse.' Judging by the accretion of dirt a newcomer might class the building as medireval; but filth is no criterion of age, for everything left in the same place becomes coaled with grime an inch thick. The dust that invades one's tent at Chumbi is clean and wholesome compared to the Phari dirt, which is the filth of human habitation, the accretion of centuries of foul living. It falls from the roof on one's head, sticks to one's clothes as one brushes against the wall, and is blown up into one's eyes and throat from the floor.

A STRANGE LITTER. : The fort is most insanitary, but a military occupation is necessary. The hacking coughs which are prevalent among officers and men are due to impurities of the air, _ which /affect the lungs. Cartloads of dirt are being scraped away every dav, but gusts of wind from the lower storeys blow up more dust, which penetrates every; nook and cranny of the draughty rooms, so that there is a fresh layer by nightfall. To clean the lower storeys and cellars would be a hopeless task; even now rooms are found in unexpected places which emit clouds of dust whenever the wind eddies 'round the basement.

Yesterday I explored the ground floor with a lantern, and was completely lost in the maze of passages and dark chambers. When we occupied the fort " two months ago they were .filled with straw, gunpowder, and old arms. The danger of a fire or explosion at Phari was more serious than the danger of a possible attack.. The labyrinth.was explored thoroughly; a hundred and forty maunds of inferior gunpowder, made 'locally, were destroyed, and the arms now litter the courtyard. These the Tibetans themselves abandoned as rubbish. The rusty helmets, shields, and breastplates are made of the thinnest iron plates, interlaced with leathern thongs, and would not stop an arrow. The old bell-mouthed matchlocks, with their wooden ground-rests, would be more dangerous to the Tibetan marksmen than the enemy. The slings and bows and arrows are reckoned obsolete even by these primitive warriors.

Perhaps they attribute more efficacy to the praying-wheels which one encounters at every corner of the fort. The largest are in niches in the wall to left and right of the gateway, rows of smaller ones are attached to the balusters, on the landings, and the battlements of the roof. The wheels are covered with grime, the grime of Lamas' hands.

PIETY AT riIABI. Dirt and religion are inseparable in Tibet. The Lamas themselves are the most filthy and malodorous folk I havr met in the. country. From which it must not be inferred that one class's is more cleanly in its habits than another, for nobody ever' thinks of washing. Soap is not included in the list of sundries that pass the Customs House at Yatnhg. If the Lamas.are dirtier than the yak-herds and itinerant merchants, it is because they lead an indoor life, whereas the pastoral folk are continually exposed to the purifying winds of the tablelands, which are the nearest equivalent in Tibet to a cold bath. i I once read of a Tibetan saint, one of the pupils of Naropa, whe was credited with a hundred miraculous gifts, one of which was that he could dive into the water like a fish. Wherein the miracle lay had often puzzled me, but when I met the Lamas of Phari Gompa I understood at once that it was the holy man's contact with the water.

Phari is eloquent of piety, as it is understood in Tibet. The better rooms are frescoed with Buddhistic paintings, and on the third floor is a library, now used as a hospital, whei>. xylograph editions of the Lamant Scriptures and lives of the saints are pigeon-holed in lockers in the wall. The books are printed on thin, oblong sheets of Chinese paper, enclosed in boards, and illuminated with quaint coloured tail pieces of holy men in devotional attitudes. Phari Fort, with its casual blending of East and West, is full of incongruous effects; but the oddest and most pathetic incongruity is the display on the roof, from which, amid praying flags and pious offerings of coloured raiment, flutters the Union Jack.