PLANT HUNTER IN TIBET

Timaru Herald, Volume CXL, Issue 20261, 9 November 1935, Page 12

PLANT HUNTER IN TIBET

experiences of collector GARDENERS ON THE ROOF OF THE WORLD “A Plant Hunter in Tibet,” (Jonathan Cape: London) may not be a book for everyone. The lover of horticulture, of course, will read it with much interest; and those who delight ih stories of unexplored places, of strange customs and people will no doubt reserve it at their libraries. The author, T. Kingstone Ward takes us with him on a journey to Tibet to hunt for plants, to discover beautiful flowers and shrubs capable of being grown out of doors, and to travel over land “at the roof of the world” over which no European had been previous!^. Flowers at the Dawn While his coolies prepared camp, the author went out to collect seeds of the various flowers and plants which grew in the locality. He calls this work: “a penance after hours and hours of climbing.” After sleeping in such a camp, he describes a morning at dawn. “We awoke in a dense mist,” he says, “as though it were June again. The sun came out between showers. Looking towards the snow. I could see vivid patches of Berberis, n autumn scarlet. But the forest below was dark green, except for the red vines which were wrapped around the tree trunks. In the distant valley leaves of Rhus and Ailanthus varied in every shade of red from scarlet to vermilion, brightening to champagne yellow and even changing green. “From the trees came the noise of cicadas, like the grinding of scissors. We breakfasted upon the carpet of coarse leaved yellow-flowered Salvia which spread at our feet.” Menaced by Disease But there were other camps less en* ticing. “The air was fetid ahd sour.” Mr Ward says, “I sat down by the fire. “Where’s Tsering?” I asked. “Dead,” one replied. “Where’s that pretty little girl WhO used to carry firewood ” “She’s dead, too.” "... I said goodbye quickly. The last coolies were leaving with the loads. A boy was picking up my bedding. HIS face -ran with pustular sores. “For God’s sake don’t give him my bedding!” I cried to the head man. “It’s no good worrying about having slept in an infected house, but one must prevent a boy with smallpox carrying one’s bedding!” Sidelights on Tibetan Life During his stay at Rima, Mr Ward repaid a visit to the Governor. A trial for murder was proceeeding ih the courtyard. If replies from a witness were considered unsatisfactory. the witness was flogged until he "spoke the truth.” But no more than a hundred cuts with the whip could be given on the same day. A lama of Dri, a holy man, dressed in a rich red robe, with a purple robe folded round his body, stood before the tribunal, and was cross-questioned. He had watched three witnesses lie naked upon the ground, while “the whips, wielded by powerful arms, whistled through the air and fell with sharp cracks; the raw-hide thongs raised dead-white welts on the dirty flesh. “The lama knelt before the Governor like any coolie. There was a terrible fear in his face and voice as he replied to the questioning . . . “I felt sure the Governor would not flog him but I was wrong. He wag not satisfied with the lama’s answers. Politely he turned to me asking whether I agreed to the man being Bogged. “Please do not beat him!” I pleaded. “The lama’s enormous relief was manifest. He thanked the Governor profusely, swearing eternal fealty. No doubt, after all, the Governor was glad to reprieve him. Difficulties of Collectors Mr Ward explains that there are many difficulties in the collecting of seeds. Apart from the sheer physical difficulty of gathering them, slugs and larvae play havoc with them, birds eat them, rain washes them from their capsules. Others may be buried under a blanket of snow or spoilt by mice. If the seeds were picked before they were ripened they Would not germinate after their journey to England. By the end of June there were in Tibet no less than twelve species of Rhododendroh in bloom in the Alpine region. They ranged in colour from deep Tyrian purple, plum-purple, cherry-red and scarlet to the most delicate apple-blossom pink. A Cambridge blue biennial Poppy fluttered Its petals amongst the boulders, and a mop-headed Primula, clouded with white meal, showed up its mauve flowers. These mixed with shaggy, white-haired Anemones, the nacreous lustre of their white satin petals covering the alpine slopes like moonstones. Intoxicating Beauty But one must read this book in order to get the beauty of the scenes, to feel with the author when he is invited tb dine with people who have never seen a white man before, and to hold one’s breath when his native attendants get drunk and try to murder him. The Tibetans put duty to their religion before everything. “There came a religious troupe,” writes the author, "who demonstrated how to cast out devils, even the most stubborn. The face of the possessed man was concealed behind a paper mask. He gyrated violently, till even I felt giddy watching him. The devil, as susceptible to weird music as a serpent, shook him to the foundations, but eventually emerged leaving the late victim exhausted. The dancers had worked themselves up to a hysteria of gymnastic motion, while the cymbals, drums, and squeaky fiddles gave rise to a medley . . . —Contributed by W-JJf.