Publications

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Fearless Voices: Accounts of Tibetan Former Political Prisoners (1998)

CONTENTS

• Glossary of terms and abbreviations
• Major prisons and detentions centres in Tibet
• Introduction
• Lhundup
• Adhe Topontsang
• Palden Gyatso
• Jamyang Lodroe
• Lhakpa Dhondup
• Dawa Yangzom
• Ngawang Kyizom
• Tendar Gelek
• Tenzin Chokey
• Dorjee Namgyal
• Dawa Tsering
• Ngawang Choedon
• Dawa Kyizom
• Thupten Tsering
• Dorjee Tseten
• Kalsang  Palmo
• Lobsang Gyatso
• Tsultrim Dolma

Glossary of terms and abbreviations

Barkhor - central circumambulation and market area around the Jokhang Temple
                 in Lhasa
Boe: Wooden container with a 14 kg capacity
CAT: UN Convention Against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading
         Treatment or Punishment
CEDAW: UN Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination
              Against Women
CERD: UN Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination
Counter-revolutionary: Legal/political term for an enemy of the state or for any act
          "committed with the goal of overthrowing the political power of the 
          dictatorship of the proletariat and the socialist system" (Chinese Criminal
          Code, 1980, Art. 90). The revised Criminal Law has replaced this term with
          "endangering state security"
County (Tib: dzong): Administrative division approximately equivalent to a
         district
CPL: Criminal Procedure Law (of China); the revised CPL came into effect on
         January 1, 1997
Detention Centre (Ch: kanshousuo): Place where prisoners are held without 
         charge and subject to investigation prior to sentencing. Gutsa is the
         detention centre for Lhasa prefecture and Seitru for "TAR"
DMC: Democratic Management Committee; these administrative organs
         established from 1962 in monasteries and nunneries in Tibet and
         reconstituted under the "patriotic re-education" campaign
Drapchi Prison: Officially known as "Tibet Autonomous Region No. 1 Prison;  the
         only prison in Tibet acknowledged by the PRC
Endangering State Security: Charge introduced in the revised CPL to replace 
         "counter-revolutionary"
Floating Population (Ch: liudong renkou): Used to refer to those settlers who are
         unregistered permanent and temporary residents in Tibet
Gyama (Tib) - Unit of measurement equivalent to 500 grams
ICCPR: UN International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights
ICESCR: UN International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights
Khel - The load that can be carried by a yak; equivalent to 28 gyama
Lhasa City: This municipal area incorporates the city of Lhasa, the capital of Tibet,
           as well as administering eight counties
Mosey: Ten mosey is equal to one yuan
Mu: A measure of land area equal to 67 square metres
Patriotic Re-education: A sub-campaign of "Strike Hard" under which Chinese 
          work-teams have been sent  in to Tibetan monasteries and nunneries to
          enforce Communist ideology
Phing: Ten phing is equal to one mosey (Chinese currency)
PRC: People's Republic of China
Prostrate - Buddhist practice of lying down before any sacred body
PSB - Public Security Bureau
Rukhag: One small unit within a village
Sang: Unit of measurement euivalent to 50 grams (ten sang = one gyama)
Sho: 10 sho is equal to one sang
Splittist (Tib: khadrel ringluk): A term used by China to refer to those who
         advocate the Tibetan  independence
Strike Hard (Ch: yanda; Tib: dungdek tsanen): A campaign targetted at crushing
         corruption and  crime. Within Tibet, Chinese authorities have focused on
         "splittist" actions 
TAP: Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture; 10 of these administrative areas (below the
         level of a province or region) were created outside "TAR" by the Chinese
         authorities and are located in north and eastern Tibet (in the Tibetan 
         provinces of Kham and Amdo)
TAR: Tibet Autonomous Region; formally created by China in 1965, this area of 
         central and western Tibet is the only area recognised by China as "Tibet"
TCHRD: Tibetan Centre for Human Rights and Democracy
TIN: Tibet Information Network; an independent monitoring group based in London
UDHR: UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights
Work team (Ch: gongzuo dui, Tib: las don ru khag): Specially formed and temporary
           units of Party members sent to conduct investigations or give re-education
           in an institution or locality
Yuan - Chinese currency; 8 yuan is equivalent to US$1

Drapchi Prison
Officially known as the “Tibet Autonomous Region’s” No. 1 prison
Ch: Di yi jianyu (“No. 1 Prison”)

The only prison acknowledged by China to exist in Tibet. Known as Drapchi, after the neighbourhood in Lhasa where it is located in the north-eastern outskirts of Lhasa. Over 600 inmates, including some 350 known political prisoners. Drapchi is for judicially-sentenced prisoners only. While Chinese authorities have told visitors that the men detained there are those serving five years or more, many Drapchi prisoners are in fact serving lighter sentences. All women who have been serving judicially in political cases, regardless of the length of their sentences, are sent to Drapchi. There may be a labour camp/s attached to Drapchi.

Sangyip

Officially known as PAP (People’s Armed Police) No. 1 Branch
A military and prison complex located in the north-east suburbs of Lhasa (ten minutes drive) which includes:

• Sangyip prison Occasionally referred to as Yitridu

• Seitru (or Sitru) Also known as “No. 4 Branch” (Ch: Di si chu)

• Outridu  Or Authitu

Note:  A new modern prison has been built in the northern outskirts of Lhasa which may be intended as a higher security facility or a city or prefectural level Public Security Bureau Detention centre. It has two cell blocks and possibly a third with 12 to 14 cells each. It is located about 100 yards south-west of Outridu prison and it seems likely to be part of the Sangyip complex. Its name is unknown but, if part of Sangyip, may be named “liutridou” (Tibetan transliteration of the Chinese word liu zhidui) meaning “sixth unit”.

Sanyip Prison and Seitru are the only sections of Sangyip known to be holding political prisoners, but due to scarcity of information the reality may be quite different.

Gutsa  (or Gurtsa)
Ch: Di si ke (“No. 4 Unit”)

Detention centre for the prefecture of Lhasa located three miles east of Lhasa near the Kyichu river. Holds prisoners who are being investigated. They have either been “arrested” (i.e. charged) or given administrative sentences. Reported in 1990 to have included a kind of juvenile detention centre and there may be a separate women’s section named “Chinyugoa”, located right behind Gutsa, although other reports say women are kept within Gutsa itself. 138 people were listed as detained there in August 1995 for political offences. At present we have details of 64 political prisoners known to be under detention. Many of the political detainees were transferred to Trisam in 1992. Gutsa is also believed to incorporate sections which are used as Re-education-through-Labour centres.

Trisam Prison
Official name unknown. Sometimes referred to as Toelung Dechen or Toelung Bridge.

A new Re-education-through-Labour centre, probably for the Lhasa municipality. Located in Toelung, 10 km west of Lhasa. Opened in about February 1992 and received many of the political prisoners from Sangyip. There are three units; the first for political prisoners, the second for on-political and the third for women. Although the prison seems to specialise in political prisoners, there are currently 11 known political prisoners detained in Trisam.

Powo Tramo Labour Camp
Also known as Bo’b or Laogai No. 2.

 The Chinese Government has acknowledged the existence of a “Reform Labour Detachment” in or near the town of Tramo in Powo County, 500 km east of Lhasa. Powo Tramo is run by the regional authorities for sentenced long-term prisoners and 11 current political prisoners are known to be held there.

Each year Tibetans are arrested for the peaceful expression of their political or religious beliefs. Individuals may be imprisoned for the simple act of carrying a photograph of the Dalai Lama, for speaking the words “Free Tibet”, or for distributing materials calling for respect for human rights. There are currently more than 1,200 known Tibetan political prisoners in various Chinese prisons in Tibet. Thousands more have been detained since Chinese forces first entered Tibetan territory in 1949: thousands of men, women and children deprived of their freedom and separated from their family for inconceivably long periods.

Detention conditions in these prisons are chilling: a monstrous range of torture methods, physical and psychological, are used to obtain “confessions” or simply as an everyday humiliation. Some prisoners have spent decades behind bars and some have been imprisoned many times, re-arrested over and over for demonstrating the same beliefs that years of prison “reform” have not succeeded in extinguishing. Most prisoners are denied visits and contact with the outside world. Some have died in custody as a result of prolonged torture and inhuman living conditions.

Each year since the relaxing of the Tibet-Nepal border in 1980, Tibetans have been fleeing the persecution and repressive policies sanctioned by the government of the People’s Republic of China (PRC). Thousands of Tibetans risk the hazardous Himalayan mountain crossing to make their way to freedom and to recount what is happening in their homeland. Some of these Tibetans are former political prisoners. Their testimonies are a crucial insight into the continuing, systematic cruelty employed in Chinese-administered prisons, detention centres and labour camps.

“Verdict first, trial second” - China’s criminal justice system

Politically motivated prosecution and disregard for due process continue to be sanctioned in the PRC’s judicial system which fails dismally to meet international standards. Despite modifications to the Chinese Criminal Procedure Law (CPL) put into effect in 1997, arrest without warrant or charge, prolonged detention without trial and denial of access to legal counsel are still commonplace for Tibetan political prisoners. Many prisoners report being tortured during interrogation to “confess to their crimes” and closed trials in cases involving “state secrets” are still permitted under the revised law.

A common Chinese maxim sums up the China’s criminal procedure: xian pan hou shen ? “verdict first, trial second”. The guilt of the accused is generally decided during pre-trial investigation by committees made up of PSB or Party representatives. Of the five forms of pre-trial criminal detention, the only one subject to any review by a non-police organ is arrest and numerous loopholes in the original and the revised criminal provisions allow for near-indefinite custody. Administrative detention ? so-called “shelter and investigation” ? has been the most commonly applied measure as it is subject to virtually no outside checks and holding limits may be ignored. If no case can be made then a subject may be released without ever being charged.

A suspect is generally held completely incommunicado during the investigation period. Revised provisions requiring police to notify a suspect’s family within 24 hours of placing him or her in detention may be dispensed with and the right to counsel may be denied in cases dealing with “state secrets” ? a term expansively used in China and particularly invoked in cases of political activism. There is no known case of a Tibetan receiving legal assistance prior to or during trial proceedings.

“Leniency for those who confess”

The internationally recognised right to be presumed innocent until proven guilty has not been incorporated into Chinese criminal provisions. The right to remain silent is also absent. Since the guilt of a suspect is generally pre-determined, refusal to confess is seen simply as a sign of obstinacy and disobedience. “Lenience for those who confess, severity for those who resist” (tanbai congkuan, kangju songyan), officials threaten detained suspects.

Methods of extracting a “confession” from a suspect include extensive interrogation and torture sessions. Suspects, already severed from the outside world, are worn down by hours or days of repetitive questioning; weakened by food, water and sleep deprivation; broken by physical and mental abuse. Their “confession” will later be used against them in sentencing.

Lao jiao ? “re-education through labour”

In March 1996, the Administrative Punishments Law (APL) was passed. While the CPL is the statute governing punishment under the criminal law, the APL governs “administrative sanction”. Administrative sanctions are frequently used against Tibetan suspects and the system of lao jiao ? “re-education through labour” ? has been retained under the new revisions.

While “re-education through labour” theoretically applies principally to those who commit minor offences falling short of “crimes”, it has been widely used against political dissidents and Tibetan nationalists. Such a sentence is determined by a Re-education Through Labour Management Committee made up primarily of PSB representatives. There is no right to counsel or to a hearing and individuals may be detained in labour camps for as long as three years, with a one year extension for “failure to reform”.

Lao gai ? “reform through labour”

The Chinese criminal system in its entirety is known as lao gai ? “reform through labour”. Its basic aim is not simply punishment but also “reform and change for the better”. In addition to intensive labour requirements ? effective both in diminishing individual political zeal and in creating production profits -? inmates of prisons and camps are also required to undergo strenuous ideological training. This includes admitting their “criminal” past and promising to “reform” themselves according to communist doctrine.

The division of Tibetan political prisoners between prisons and labour camps is unclear. Sometimes the more “sensitive”, long-term political prisoners may be sent to prisons where they can be held in isolation. In other areas of Tibet all political prisoners who have been criminally sentenced go to prison. All prisoners receiving administrative sentences, in theory, are sent to separate “re-education through labour” camps.

Ultimately, there  is little real difference between the placements as prisoners in prisons must also work, often in on-site factories. Labour camp prisoners may be involved in heavy farming, mining or construction rock, sometimes in desolate, inhospitable areas of Tibet. “Reform” labour is mandatory for nine to ten hours a day with one day off every fortnight. In certain seasons prisoners may be expected to work 12 hours a day or even more if a particular timetable must be met. Those administratively sentenced to re-education through labour are purportedly paid for their work, but the minimal payment rarely covers more than their food and electricity charges.

In some cases, Tibetan political prisoners are made to continue working even after completing their term. This may occur where the prisoner cannot show he or she has anything to return to, or where it is deemed that the prisoner has “failed to reform”. These workers are still kept largely as prisoners and only occasionally are permitted to leave to visit family.

After release

When eventually released, a former political prisoner will be discriminated against in employment and social services. If they are a monk or nun they will be forbidden from rejoining any monastery or nunnery. They may be watched and followed; their families may also be targeted for suspicion or disadvantage. The chance of re-arrest is great.

Under such circumstances, many former political prisoners make the harrowing choice to leave  their family and homeland and make a new life in exile. Even if they survive the journey, the horror and trauma they have experienced do not cease. There are today approximately 500 former political prisoners struggling to live in exile. Long and brutal detentions have left physical and mental scars: they are haunted by nightmares of their past; some are crippled; some suffer chronic depression; many are alone. Trauma and confusion associated with adjusting to an unfamiliar environment, language, culture and way of life is inevitable.

Upon their arrival in Nepal and India, the Tibetan Reception Centre assist them with temporary provision of food, shelter, medical care and assistance with travel to the most appropriate place of settlement. However, in the period from 1989 to 1996 alone, the Reception Centre received 19,339 new arrivals from Tibet. The massive pressures on the resources of the Reception Centre mean that former political prisoners do not always receive particular attention; it may seem for many that their individual contribution to the Tibetan struggle has been in vain. It wasn’t.

The accounts compiled here tell the stories of twenty remarkable Tibetans who have undergone what most of us could never even imagine. They are stories of great suffering, great sacrifice and great spirit. For each one of these stories told, there are a hundred more untold. These are stories which at present have no end.

During interrogations I was beaten so much that there were rumours in Lhasa that I was dead.  My hands were tied very tightly behind my back and I was pushed over again and again. My knees were hurting a lot and blood came out of my mouth when I was hit on my head.

Childhood years

At the age of four, I was sent to Sera Monastery to become a monk. In 1959, I took part in the Tibetan Uprising and fought against the Chinese. After that I could not continue to be a monk and I attended a Tibetan school for two years. After that I had to stay at home because my parents fell ill. As I was the only child it was my responsibility to take care of them. My father died in 1962 and I then joined a construction labour unit. I did unskilled work like carrying stones and the salary was very meagre. Later I learned carpentry in order to earn better money.

Employment

When I was 17 years old I joined a carpentry co-operative in a commune. Later I became the head of the commune and, as the commune grew, my position rose quickly. At that time there were three co-operatives ? north, west and east ? and  I became the head of the north branch. About 7,000 people were employed by the three co-operatives but, while the co-operatives still exist, they are very small now.

In 1972 I became an official at the chenguanqu (Municipal Affairs Office). One week after my promotion I received a party membership card. It is actually very difficult to become a party member and usually candidates have to undergo a long screening process. For me it was very easy. Although I didn’t really want to become a Party member because I am very religious, I thought that it would give me access to useful information and enable me to inform other people.

Formation of underground organisation

From 1969 onwards I was involved in spreading information among Tibetans. I thought that the kind of information which I would be able to collect as an official and a Party member would be important for Tibetans. In 1979 four friends and I formed an underground group. Our main purpose was to regain independence and we would go to hill tops, pray for independence and hoist prayer flags. We often met and the group soon expanded greatly with members all over Tibet. Today the movement is not very big as many of the members were imprisoned.

I worked at the propaganda department of the chenguanqu, under which there were six bureaux and twelve uyon lenkhangs (Neighbourhood Committees). My work consisted of distributing propaganda documents which came from Lhasa and whenever there was a political meeting my colleagues and I went to represent our department. I never disrupted the office work and the only thing I did was to steal paper from the office for our underground movement.

We contacted all three delegations that visited Tibet from Dharamsala. When the second delegation came, we contacted them secretly and asked them to send us a camera. In return we promised to send them Chinese documents. I had managed to get hold of Document 13 from Beijing, relating to Hu Yaobang’s visit to Tibet and his critical remarks, and I handed this document to the delegation.
In 1981 we introduced the idea of celebrating the birthday of His Holiness the Dalai Lama. I put up two big posters announcing a birthday celebration and many people responded by throwing tsampa (barley flour) into the air and by holding big prayer sessions near the bridge (Lhasa Samchen).

Arrests begin

In 1982 the authorities started suspecting us. In 1983, one of our members was arrested and sent to Seitru Prison. He was detained for almost a year. He must have said something when he was being interrogated and another member from our group was subsequently arrested on his way to India. He was carrying many documents such as letters for the Dalai Lama, the Tibetan Youth Congress and the Tibetan Women's Association. All of these documents were confiscated and he was sentenced to 2 years in old Seitru. I cannot remember what the official charge against him was. If he had not been arrested, our organisation might have become very strong. In the same year (1983) the authorities started to suspect me.

While I was in Shanghai for a medical check up I received a telegram from my office saying, “Take your time, don't hurry, please buy some stationary for our office.” I thought the telegram was quite strange and I had a feeling the intelligence had sent it. When I was approached by intelligence agents in Shanghai I realised my suspicions had been right. The agents asked me to come with them without informing my wife, who was with our daughter at her dance academy. I managed to get word to my wife to phone my friends in Lhasa and ask them to destroy all evidence of the existence of our organisation.

Interrogation in Shanghai

I was interrogated for 13 days about my contacts with the two members who had been arrested and about how the organisation was formed. They kept saying that I should tell the truth. I was prepared for the questions. Just before I had been caught, a colleague had advised me to confess since the evidence had already come out. I decided nonetheless to deny any involvement and told the intelligence that the two arrested members were religious friends rather than political associates. I even apologised for taking part in religious activities.

They told me: “If you tell us the truth, we will give you a lot of money and we will promote you.” They had brought torture equipment which I saw lying on the table when they questioned me. However they did not use it at all and were very polite, saying: “Even party members make mistakes. As long as you repent, there is nothing to worry about.”

For five days I denied any involvement. On the sixth day my interrogators lost their patience and started banging on the table. They showed me a letter which I had written to the Dharamsala government in which I asked the Kashag (Tibetan Cabinet) to send me video equipment, a typewriter and other items. My interrogators said that so far they had not hurt me; “We have tried to reform you because we think that you are a promising man. You are not an aristocrat. You have a very bright future, but you are like a man with very good eyes who throws himself into a ravine. The road to a top TAR position is open to you. You'd better admit your involvement and tell us everything.”

 I acknowledged that I had written the letter, but said that I didn't know anything about the organisation. On the seventh day they became more aggressive and insisted that I should give up thinking about independence, but still they didn’t hurt me. It would have been a disgrace to the party and to the government to hurt an official. Then it became clear to me that they wanted me to be a kind of informer and they started offering me all kinds of facilities. I kept saying that I couldn’t be their informer because I had no connections.

 “Early retirement” and arrest

Finally they released me and I was sent on “early retirement”. At that time Phuntsok Tashi Takla was in Beijing to negotiate with the Chinese government. I was watched very closely and if I went to Sera monastery I would be called by the Public Security Bureau (PSB) the next morning and asked about my meetings with the monks. I could not fully resume my political activities.

On March 5, 1988 I went to the Barkhor to take part in a big demonstration. On March 8, the PSB arrived at my house at 2 a.m., showed me a warrant of arrest and a search warrant and turned my house upside down. They searched until dawn. They found ten pamphlets of His Holiness’ March 10 speech, and A Political History of Tibet by Shakapa.

Interrogations and beatings

I was taken to Gutsa Prison and put in a cell with a few others. During interrogations I was beaten so much that there were rumours in Lhasa that I was dead.  My hands were tied very tightly behind my back and I was pushed over again and again. My knees were hurting a lot and blood came out of my mouth when I was hit on my head.

At first I was not permitted to work but, after pleading for a long time, I was finally allowed to do some construction work. One day I was sent to collect sand. I asked whether I could take Sonam Wangdu and Lobsang Tenzin. I expected Sonam Wangdu would be sentenced to death and I wanted to arrange an opportunity for him to meet his family before he was executed. I managed to send word to Sonam’s relatives that they should come to the place where we would collect the sand.

When the day came to collect the sand we were actually sent to another place, but I managed to convince the two guards who had accompanied us to go to the place where we had arranged to meet Sonam’s wife. The guards were quite sympathetic and agreed. The meeting worked out well but on the way back the truck broke down and we came home very late.

By then the authorities had found out that we had gone to a different place and were extremely angry. I took full responsibility and was tortured very badly. They tied my hands tightly behind my back with ropes. The ropes were so tight that they cut deeply into my flesh and I felt very dizzy. I heard someone say: “Release the ropes, rub him.” When they released the rope, the pain was so intense that I fainted. The next morning I woke up in my cell on my bed. I was bedridden for almost a month and a doctor came to see me regularly and gave me injections. The intelligence people who had interrogated me in Shanghai also came to see me.

Release and escape

On January 15, 1989 Lobsang Tenzin, Sonam Wangdu, myself and many others were taken to court. I was acquitted, to my great surprise, while Sonam Wangdu was sentenced to death and Lobsang Tenzin was sentenced for life. On the way back from the court to Gutsa, Sonam Wangdu was beaten very badly by the army. He never recovered. I was kept in prison for another 15 days.
After my release I opened a small shop in Tagnon Tsongkhang, opposite the Tibetan Medical Institute in Lhasa. One month later a new shop opened next to mine and I was told by an ex-policeman that the neighbours were actually intelligence agents. After two years I left the shop and soon after the shop next door also closed.

I started to think about going to India. I did not feel safe in Lhasa and I wanted to meet His Holiness. In July 1993, I left Lhasa on a Chinese passport, which I had managed to obtain by bribing the right people. I will probably not return to Tibet.

In the prison, young and more attractive women were called by the prison warden, Trang Tsong, to clean his quarters and do his laundry … We were all summoned in rotation and raped.

Separated from children

On October 16, 1958 six Chinese policemen came to Karze Darste-Do Monastery, Kham, (Sichuan Province) and arrested my elder sister's husband and myself. During my arrest my children ? Chime Wangyal, age three and Chimi Khando, age one ? were near me.  As the Chinese police tied me very roughly with rope, my little daughter laughed, thinking it was a game.
My three-year-old son was calling my name and jumping up at me, but was pushed back and kicked by the Chinese each time. Then, when the policemen began escorting me to prison, he again ran to me, crying, but was kicked aside by the police. Soon after my imprisonment he became mentally disturbed and died by jumping in the river.

Sentence of 16 years

I was taken to the Karze District (Sichuan Province) Prison and was thrown into the vehicle like luggage. During the interrogation, policemen kicked me and hit me all over my body with rifle-butts. They also forced me to kneel on two sharpened pieces of wood, with my hands raised.  They hit my elbows with a rifle-butt whenever my hands came down and I became very weak due to heavy beatings.
My husband and I were charged with being the key rebels in the Nyarong area (Sichuan Province). I was forced to watch my elder sister’s husband as he was shot dead and I was told, “the consequence will be the same for you if you revolt against the Chinese Communists”.  I was sentenced  to a 16-year prison term.

Prison, rape and starvation

In the fifth month of the Tibetan calendar, in 1959, I was shifted from Karze Prison to Dhartsedo Prison. Dhartsedo Prison was formerly Ngachen Monastery, the biggest monastery in the Dhartsedo area, but the monastery’s valuable statues, stupas (monuments containing sacred objects and relics) and other religious artefacts had been taken away to China. There were about sixty people, including learned geshes (holding a doctorate of Buddhist philosophy) and lamas, in the cell. Other rooms of the monastery were packed with about 300 women prisoners and 500 laymen. We had to labour every day.
In this prison, young and more attractive women were called by the prison warden, Trang Tsong, to clean his quarters and do his laundry. These women included Ngangtso Wangmo Lithang, Dolkar Chatring, Yangchen Chatring and me. We were all summoned in rotation and raped.

Food in Dhartsedo Prison was meagre of very poor quality. The mug in which we received our food was the size of a tea cup and so, after eating their share, prisoners fought with each other to snatch the bucket for any leftovers. They put their hands in it and licked it. The Chinese officials watched us battle over the wooden buckets and laughed at us. Prisoners also rushed to gobble up used tea leaves, thrown there by the Chinese police to create competition among us. Starving Tibetan prisoners even ate grass and worms. About ten Tibetans died of starvation every day.  On one occasion, Chinese doctors saw Zachukhapa Thubten Thargyal eating a dead prisoner’s leg and he was scolded during a meeting. Thereafter Tibetans were not allowed to go to the morgue.

Three prisoners slept together in a cell measuring one square metre. Every ten prisoners had one wooden bucket as a toilet and prisoners were allowed to go out of their cell once in the morning to empty it. The whole prison complex was like an uncleaned toilet. Prisoners were never allowed to talk to one another and were interrogated if caught doing so.

In 1962 prison supervisor Ma Ku Zhang was replaced by Be Ku Zhang. At that time, according to Ma Ku Zhang’s list, there were 2,319 prisoners, including the dead. This was known by some prisoners who were friendly with a Chinese official, especially Lithang Tenzin Sangpo, to whom the Chinese doctor gave the prisoners’ statistics.

The lead mines

At the beginning of 1960, I was among 100 young, healthy female prisoners and 200 male prisoners selected to go to the Golthok Lead Mines in Chajam district area, a three day journey on foot from Dhartsedo Prison. When we arrived there we saw the place packed with Tibetan prisoners; there were ten to fifteen thousand of them.

We had to work for four hours in the morning and three hours in the afternoon. In the evening there was a meeting and discussion for one hour during which those who had completed their day's allotted work quota were praised while those who had failed were criticised. The next day's work schedule and political education was then discussed.

One day I fainted and found myself in the morgue when I regained consciousness.  A few days later I could move and was sent to look after pigs. There were three other women tending the pigs. My physical condition became a little better then as I could eat some of the food meant for the pigs.

While many prisoners died, new ones kept on arriving. Towards the end of 1963 only thirty prisoners remained and the factory was closed. In one year over 10,000 prisoners died there and a similar number of prisoners died of starvation. It was also known that out of sixty trulkus (incarnate lama) in Dhartse-Do Prison, seven died of starvation. Some of these trulkus were: Choephel Gyatso, son of Lama Sonam Gyal, a religious teacher to the Thirteenth Dalai Lama; Tongkhor Trulku; Babu Trulku and Nyagye Trulku. Of the 100 female prisoners sent to Dhartsedo Prison, all but four died of starvation. The four of us were transferred to the Shi-Ma Cha vegetable farm labour camp in Chethok. There were already fifty women prisoners there, mainly from Lhasa and Kyekudo. I lived there for three years and my physical condition became stronger because of better food and opportunities to steal vegetables.

Forced blood extraction and “transformation”

In 1966 we were sent to a vegetable farm in Ra Nga Gang. The food served there was slightly better and we wondered why we were being treated nicely. Because of the heat from the stove and the drink, perspiration was streaming down our bodies and our faces became red. One hour later Chinese doctors arrived and started to extract blood from us. Being very weak physically, our bodies swelled up and we fainted.

Chatring Rinchen Dolma, Kanze Tsering Lhamo and Nyarong Yungdrung Palmo died from these blood extractions. I suffered from chronic spells of fainting and giddiness. There was a woman named Tikho who also became very weak and even today she cannot work.

In 1968 women prisoners were forced to cut their hair short in Chinese style. Ragged Tibetan dresses were taken away and burnt, and we were given Chinese clothes. Speaking in Tibetan was forbidden. Those speaking in Tibetan were sent for "mind transformation" classes.

“Release” and forced labour

One day in 1974 I was called to the office and told, “Your prison term of 16 years has been terminated. You will be marked as a political outcast, although you are not a prisoner now. You have not undergone proper mental transformation and remain stubborn.” I was ordered to work as a labourer in Ra Nga Gang Labour Camp, a brick factory. Political outcasts were called “capped ones” or “marked ones” and had to sit last in the row or move behind others. I was not allowed to socialise with others and officials could order me to work during leisure hours.

A person placed in a Work Brigade is also a prisoner. However, the Chinese maintained that the difference was that the government paid for the prisoners’ food while the worker in the Work Brigade was given a monthly wage. In addition, labourers’ rooms were not locked at night and we were allowed to go to market and visit our homes on Sundays if they were located nearby. In 1979 I was taken off the list of the “black-capped” ones.

For the first eight months in prison both my hands and legs were manacled. After that I was asked whether I was “mentally reformed” and whether I wanted to work. I only replied that I was ready to work and so my hand-cuffs were removed and I was assigned to work in the prison’s carpet factory. It was very difficult to work with my feet still in fetters. I dug a hole in the ground to put my feet in and was thus able to work. It took another two years for the manacles on my ankles to be removed.

Chinese occupation

On March 10, 1959 I went to Lhasa on personal business. Upon reaching the city, I found the Norbulingka (summer palace of the Dalai Lama) surrounded by Tibetans in massive numbers to protect His Holiness the Dalai Lama from the Chinese. I hurried back to my monastery and found it already being organised into an army. I was elected the leader of a group of 100 monks.
Fighting commenced on March 19. We fired some shots in the direction of the Chinese army, but we could not see our targets: the whole city was smouldering in thick clouds of dust as the Chinese army had started mass bombing it. On March 21 the fighting stopped and I returned to Drepung. The monastery was surrounded by the Chinese army and I had to enter in secret from the back. I found the monastery almost empty; most of my friends had already left.

Arrest and torture

I was arrested and interrogated at Gadong Monastery in Panam. For seven whole days I was kept suspended in the air on suspicion that I too was spying for India. On the seventh day some uniformed Chinese came. They asked me if I was Palden Gyatso and I replied yes, upon which they untied me and took me to Drepung in Lhasa. Later I learnt that some monks of Drepung who had been arrested by the Chinese had confessed, under torture, that I was the leader of the group in which they fought the Chinese.

During the interrogation I was hand-cuffed, kicked and beaten with a stick which had sharp points of nails protruding from one end. Following this, I was taken back to Panam to serve a seven-year prison sentence. Panam Prison had about 200 prisoners at that time. Seven of them were women and two of these were very young. Most of the other prisoners were relatively old and at 28 I was among the youngest.

For the first eight months in prison both my hands and legs were manacled. After that I was asked whether I was “mentally reformed” and whether I wanted to work. I only replied that I was ready to work and so my hand-cuffs were removed and I was assigned to work in the prison’s carpet factory. It was very difficult to work with my feet still in fetters. I dug a hole in the ground to put my feet in and was thus able to work. It took another two years for the manacles on my ankles to be removed.

Attempted escape

Prison conditions were harsh and the ill-treatment intolerable.  So, in 1962, I escaped from the prison. The driving force behind it was a compelling urge to let the outside world know what was going on in prisons in Tibet. There were seven of us and we reached the border town of Dangmo (more popularly known as Dram; Ch: Zhangmu). Unfortunately, we ran right into a contingent from the Chinese army returning from the Border War with India; we ended up being taken back to Panam Dzong Prison.

We were suspended from the ceiling by our arms, which were tied at the back, for several hours and beaten in this position. In the end, my sentence was increased by eight years. The other six had their prison terms increased ranging from one to five years. I got the longest sentence because I claimed to be the initiator and the leader of the escapade to save all of us from suffering prolonged interrogation and torture.

Prison deaths

Prison life resumed. We had to plough the land like human yaks. The food was coarse and meagre ? so meagre that some of my prison mates died of starvation. It was left to one’s own devices and stratagem to keep body and soul together. Unlike many others, I did not resort to eating rats, mice and insects. Instead I soaked my boots in water and chewed them. Due to the harsh conditions most of the elderly prisoners did not survive. Most died from hunger.

When a prisoner died, orders were made for disposal of the dead body. The bodies were piled high on horse carts and taken to the crematorium near Sera Monastery where they were buried en masse. Every morning two to three carloads were taken. Often the burial was not done properly and birds and dogs would pick at the corpses.

When the Cultural Revolution started in Tibet in 1966, prison conditions deteriorated further. All prisoners were made to hand over every single Tibetan item they had with them, including cups, clothes, tsampa bags and prayer beads. The number of prisoners at Panam Dzong Prison had by that time increased to between 2,000 and 3,000 inmates. All of them were from Panam Dzong itself and most of them were political prisoners.

“Confessions” and executions

 In 1966, I was transferred to Outridu (or Fifth Unit), a prison in the remote north-east of Lhasa in Sangyip valley. Our work at this labour camp was masonry: we had to cut stones and carry them on our shoulders. Every so often the political prisoners were called before meetings for thamzing (struggle sessions). At these meetings we were told to speak against the “old” Tibetan society and to condemn the Dalai Lama. We were ordered to trample on the pictures of the Dalai Lama and to denounce him. We were also ordered to confess our guilt for involvement in reactionary activities. Some of us were made to sign confessions of guilt and “voluntary” agreements to be executed. There were cases where prisoners who refused to sign such “confessions” had a pen forced into their hands by the Chinese who then guided it across the paper.

The prisoners condemned to death were informed of their impending execution three days before. On the eve of their execution they were forced to sing and dance in front of the other prisoners and on the day of the execution a large wooden board displaying Chinese characters was strung around their neck. They were thrown into trucks like lifeless things and driven away to Drapchi Prison. The remaining prisoners were taken in other trucks. At Drapchi the condemned persons were made to kneel before a recently dug open pit and listen to the list of their crimes while the other prisoners were forced to watch from a distance. After the reading of their crimes the condemned persons were shot one by one.

I particularly remember one monk from Gaden Monastery who did not die even after being shot seven times. To our greater horror the executioner dragged him to the pit and buried him alive! Some died even before they reached the execution site. While in some cases this appeared to be out of intense fear, in many instances it was out of sheer weakness. Those brought to watch the scene were required to raise their hands after each execution to indicate their approval. During the whole period of the execution no one was allowed to talk, or even to cough.

Labour camp deaths

I completed my sentence in 1975. Though supposedly released, I was sent to a work brigade at Nyethang, about 15 miles outside Lhasa. I remained at this labour camp for eight years, until my second arrest in 1983.

The conditions at this labour camp were as harsh as those in prison. Those who had been imprisoned for political reasons continued to be labelled “black-capped” even after release, indicating they were reactionaries and social outcasts who had no place in society. Members of the public were supposed to shun such people and not be seen talking with them. We, the “black-capped” ones, were told that we should feel grateful for being given a job at all and we were specially targeted for vigilance by the work supervisors.

During my stay at Nyethang I was never allowed to leave the camp alone. The food was hardly better than that in prison. Orders barked by the authorities had to be carried out instantly, upon pain of being kicked or beaten. During my stay at this labour camp 18 people were driven to commit suicide. In one gruesome incident, an inmate simply threw himself in front of a running truck and was instantly killed.

The harshness of conditions at this labour camp led to many other deaths. Often we carried the dead bodies of our colleagues to the river and threw them in. There was a special crematorium to dispose of the dead bodies of the “black-capped” ones, called fulo dhutoe (fulo is Chinese for black-capped and dhutoe is Tibetan for crematorium). For three to four years of my stay at this labour camp I was assigned to work in a brick kiln but from time to time I also worked in the fields.

Political pamphlets

After a few years I was transferred to a carpet factory. I made excuses about the work being too heavy for one person and pleaded for an assistant. The guards took their time before finally telling me to go to the fields and select an assistant. I chose Geshe Lobsang Wangchuk, an eminent scholar and a courageous advocate of Tibetan independence. He was one of my old cell-mates. From that day onwards, we worked together and had a number of discussions about our circumstances. We also talked about planning a campaign and started compiling news reports and writing pamphlets.

In 1979, on the first day of Losar (Tibetan New Year), we managed to paste one of the pamphlets on the notice board outside the labour camp’s hospital. This board was being used to display statements of Chairman Mao and Chinese propaganda materials about progress made in Tibet since its “liberation”. Our pamphlet was probably the first written criticism of Chinese policies since 1959.

We signed the pamphlet with our full names.  We had two reasons for doing this. The first was to rouse and instil courage in the people of Lhasa, who seemed too scared to show any antipathy to the Chinese ill-treatment, as well as providing leadership. The second reason was to test the Chinese authorities’ constant claim that under the Constitution of the PRC there was full freedom of expression.

Immediately after the discovery of the pamphlet we were called to the police station.  Asked why we had pasted it, we replied: “We have not violated the Chinese Constitution.  We, as citizens, have the right to express our views.” To this the Chinese officer replied: “You are right; but we do not approve of what you have done. Your action might affect the masses.” Our action did indeed cause a big stir in Lhasa. We were not arrested immediately, apparently because the authorities were not sure how the people of
Lhasa would react, but we knew that sooner or later we would be arrested.

About one year after the incident, Geshe Lobsang Wangchuk was arrested for a reason which could only be attributed to the pamphlet-pasting incident. I was not arrested then but was put under extra surveillance and constantly followed by two informers. Geshe Lobsang Wangchuk nonetheless managed somehow to send me a letter in which he wrote: “The Chinese are telling me that nobody talks about independence any more since my arrest. They try to convince me that you and I are the only two people who want independence. You should, therefore, try to write more documents and put them on the walls of Lhasa. You should keep the momentum of the protest alive.”

Without hesitation I began to make more posters. One night I got up at 12.30 a.m., when the electric generators were put off as usual, and secretly left the labour camp. I walked all the way to Lhasa, which took me about three hours, put up the posters and then returned. As I arrived at the labour camp the first dawn roosters were crowing and I sneaked back into my bed, pretending to be ill. Late that morning the police came looking for me. They did not say anything about the poster and when I told them that I was ill, they left, recommending that I should go to hospital. This time the poster was unsigned.

Second arrest and 8 year sentence

On August 26, 1983, I was on retreat at Drepung Monastery after having obtained a three-month leave from the labour camp when armed Chinese police ran into my room. I was immediately taken away to prison. When the police searched my room at the work brigade they found a copy of the poster I had put up in Lhasa. There was nothing political in the document: it began with a Losar greeting to the people of Lhasa. Nevertheless, the document was produced as evidence to indict me for “counter-revolutionary criminal activity”.  There was no open, public trial of any kind. I was convicted and sentenced to an eight-year prison term.

I was initially sent to Old Seitru (or Fourth unit), which at that time was a prison. Now it is a detention-cum-interrogation centre, located north-east of Lhasa in Sangyip valley. After one year I was sent to the New Seitru Prison and one year later I was again transferred, this time to Outridu where I spent six years. Old Seitru, New Seitru and Outridu are all part of the Sangyip Prison complex. When I was the only political prisoner remaining at Outridu, I was sent to “TAR” Prison No. 1 (Drapchi Prison), Lhasa.

During my years in Outridu (Fourth Unit) I wrote a number of small notes about prison conditions and the conditions of my fellow prisoners. I tied these notes around my wrists, held by rubber-bands and concealed by my sleeves. I never showed them to other prisoners as there were informers among them and we did not know who they were. Pen and paper were no problem as the prison authorities had given them to me for writing self-criticisms.

I secretly passed these notes to prison visitors, asking them to pass them on to foreigners. When some of these notes reached the outside world, prison authorities suspected that I was the one sending them out and they interrogated me. I insisted that I had written the notes when I was at the work brigade but my sentence was nonetheless increased by one more year. Despite this setback I continued to send out notes.

Prison conditions improved slightly over the years 1985 and 1986. This was obviously designed to show that Chinese policy was being relaxed. Immediately following the Lhasa demonstrations of 1987, however, prison conditions took a turn for the worse. Before 1987, to my knowledge, there were only seven Tibetan political prisoners in Lhasa; after 1987 this increased to hundreds. The prison guards constantly remained on the alert to prevent the old political prisoners from talking with the ones who arrived after 1987. The moment an old political prisoner was seen talking with a new one the two were at once called up and told to explain what they had been talking about.

Prison work

When I first arrived at Drapchi we had to work in a large apple orchard which was fenced by electrified barbed wire. The work was hard and backbreaking and the prisoners were always so hungry that they would often steal an apple to eat. Pema Rinzin, a prison official who was notorious for his cruelty to prisoners, knew this and ordered the apples to be sprayed with a highly-toxic insecticide called zhezhiwu (pronounced tetiwu). After spraying, Pema Rinzin shouted: “Whoever wants to die can come forward now.”

Vegetable growing was another kind of occupation for prisoners.  Vegetables grown by Tibetan prisoners were mostly bought in the market by Tibetans who knew that the prisoners would be punished if they failed to fulfil the quota set by the Chinese authorities. The political prisoners were not allowed to go to the market to sell the vegetables. Instead the Tibetan common criminals, of whom there were about ten in the political prisoners’ section, were sent to the market in rosters while accompanied by a Chinese officer.

One of my main sources of information about the outside world was a small transistor radio which had
been smuggled into the prison. I used to listen to the radio with some trusted friends whenever I felt it safe to do so and hid it in a dongmo (cylindrical bamboo vessel used for churning Tibetan tea). The prisoners were divided into work units and in my unit there were some fifteen informers who came to know about the radio and told the prison authorities. Ngodup, the owner of the radio, was severely beaten and his leg was broken.

The “hundred points system”

The ‘hundred points system’ was introduced after the demonstrations in 1987. Before then, there were only seven political prisoners in Lhasa. After the demonstrations there were suddenly so many prisoners that the system was introduced in order to control the prisoners and increase their productivity. Copies of the rules, written both in Chinese and in Tibetan, were distributed among all the prisoners and stuck on the walls of the prison cells.

In theory, all prisoners had the same right to gain ‘credit points’, but in practice political prisoners were seldom given the points they had earned. Moreover, out of the 100 points, three were given for possessing the “right” way of thinking. As the political prisoners did not, by definition, have the “right” way of thinking, it was almost impossible for them to get the full 100 points.

Those prisoners who managed to get 100 points in six months and another 100 points in the next six months had the chance to win a prize. Every two or three months the scores were announced publicly and if points had been deducted from anyone the reasons were explained. In this way prisoners were continuously prompted to think about their targets and their behaviour.

Every year all prisoners were summoned to a big meeting and the prizes for those who had fulfilled their work quota and “behaved well” were displayed on a table. The smallest prize was a pen and a book. Those who had won three small prizes in a row were given a medium prize: pen, book, towel and bucket. Those who had won three medium prizes in a row received a large prize: pen, book, towel, bucket and thermos flask. After winning three large prizes there was a chance the prison sentence might be reduced, but this would only happen if the person had to spend many years in prison. Those who won big prizes or reductions were highly praised in public. Those who heard themselves being publicly praised for being good, obedient socialists would feel very humiliated and many of them felt they were betraying the Tibetan cause.

Once I happened to gain 100 points whilst in prison, but I never received a prize. The rules of the 100 points system are followed very strictly for ordinary criminals but in the case of political prisoners the prison authorities merely pretend to follow the rules. It depends instead on the mood of the individual prison official as to whether the rules are applied. In many ways the rules are just dzuma (“eye wash”): a way to fool both the  prisoners and the outside world.

Apart from credit points for work quota and “correct” behaviour, there were also credit points for cleanliness. If you give information about other prisoners to a prison official or denounce the Dalai Lama or foreigners you may be rewarded with some points. If you react very quickly and obey very strictly, you might be also be given a few points. If you keep quiet during the “re-education” classes, the officials assume that you agree with the “lesson”. If you show some reluctance in obeying orders, the officials will deduct points.

Work quotas

In Drapchi Prison most prisoners work in the 56 greenhouses which were built in 1990 and 1991. Before 1991, when the trees were uprooted, political prisoners worked in the apple orchard. The greenhouses were covered by plastic and in summer it was extremely hot inside. When you entered the greenhouse, it was as if you were being steamed like a momo (dumpling).

The work targets are very high and prisoners therefore had to use large quantities of chemical fertiliser in order to increase the production. In the big greenhouses, groups of three prisoners were employed and they had to make 18,000 yuan annually. If they could not meet this target points were deducted from their record. In the smaller greenhouses, groups of three prisoners had to make 16,000 yuan per year. Prisoners were given 35 yuan a month for the electricity and water bill in their cell, their clothing and other small items.

Most prisoners worked very hard just to avoid extension of their sentences. As far as I know, although most of the old political prisoners never got the required hundred points, there have not been any extensions as a result of the 100 point system. The reason is that the prison authorities realise that the old “die-hard” will not try to fight for a reduction of their sentence. They no longer care. They are proud, rather than eager to get out. I never studied the rules of the 100 points system carefully. I realised that the system was a way to trap prisoners into a behaviour pattern that was easier to deal with and that it increased the productivity of the prison farm which was very profitable for the authorities. I did not want to play this game.

In 1992 the target was 16,000 yuan for the small greenhouses and 18,000 yuan for the big greenhouses. Every year the target was revised, depending on the price of food and other factors and the target was fixed for a whole year no matter what happened during that year. Prisoners were divided into five rukhag (work units): female political prisoners were in Rukhag 3 and male political prisoners in Rukhag 5.
The vegetables grown in the greenhouses were taken to the market in Lhasa by non-political prisoners, accompanied by the guard of Rukhag 5. This guard counted the money at the end of the day and wrote the amount down in a book. I know of only one incident of cheating: the prisoners of Rukhag 2 were accompanied by a dishonest guard. All prisoners suffered as a result of this.

When I left Drapchi, 50 new, very large greenhouses were under construction. Later I heard from new arrivals in Dharamsala that groups of four or five prisoners were working in these greenhouses and that the target must be somewhere between 26,000 and 28,000 yuan. The greenhouses were built because the number of political prisoners kept increasing and it is very safe to keep them inside the greenhouses where they have no contact with the outside world. Moreover, the prison makes a lot of profit by employing prisoners in the greenhouses.

Torture of political prisoners

It was always very dangerous to exchange information. One day prison guards caught one of the prisoners, Yeshe Tsewang, passing some paper to his relatives during their visit. He was severely tortured and his relatives were also dragged out and beaten. Yeshe’s prison term was increased by nine years. After this incident, we observed that political prisoners were beaten more frequently and thamzing session were also held. Prisoners were mostly tortured with electric cattle prods during thamzing. When a cattle prod broke the officials brought a new one and carried on as before. The Chinese also beat prisoners with thick chains of the type used to cover military truck tyres in slippery driving conditions.
On October 13, 1990 I was transferred to Drapchi Prison. Paljor, whom I had known before as a cruel, heartless torturer, was waiting for me in the interrogation cell. Browsing through my file, he raised his eye-brows and said to me: “I see that you have been imprisoned twice. You must be very bad. Why are you here again?” I replied that I had put up wall posters in Lhasa. Paljor slowly rose from his chair and asked: “So you still want independence?” I stood still, without answering. Paljor took out his electric baton and shoved it into my mouth and then thrust it down my throat. I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I found myself lying in a pool of vomit and urine; I had lost twenty of my teeth.

Political prisoners and ordinary criminals were not permitted to talk to each other but secret meetings nevertheless took place in the corridors. During one such meeting, I asked about conditions in criminals’ units and discovered that they differed substantially from conditions for political prisoners. Common criminals could see their relatives for two to three hours; political prisoners were allowed only ten minutes. Criminals were not closely observed during prison visits; political prisoners were very closely watched during visits by their relatives. Visitors coming to see political prisoners on unscheduled days had no chance of being let in; common criminals were allowed such visits for ten to fifteen minutes. Food for criminals was also much better than that for political prisoners and during political education meetings criminals were allowed to sit on chairs while political prisoners had to sit on the floor. Contact between criminals and political prisoners was generally good. Some criminals, however, behaved badly towards political prisoners. Some of them really thought, as a  result of the prison’s political education meetings, that the political prisoners wanted to revive the old Tibetan society. These criminals used to beat political prisoners whenever they got the chance. By offering to help prison guards beat the political prisoners, many criminals had their sentences reduced for "good behaviour" and for "assisting the prison authorities".

Release and escape

One month before I was to be released, I contacted a friend to bribe a Chinese officer into selling a set of torture instruments. Upon my release the instruments were waiting for me at the friend’s house. The money had been paid by my friends who shared my view that these instruments should be seen by the outside world. One electric cattle-prod cost us about 800 yuan, which is about three months’ average salary.

After my release I spent 13 days in Lhasa during which I made plans to escape to India. On October 7, 1992, I left Lhasa dressed as a Chinese gentleman and for the very first time in my life I was wearing a tie. I reached the border town of Dram after two days where I learnt that the border police had received a report from Lhasa of my escape. They were already looking for me, armed with my photograph and I had to remain in hiding at a friend’s place. I finally managed to escape by hiring a Nepalese guide.
 
 

Every night we were interrogated and asked whether we had any links with a certain underground resistance movement. And every time we denied it we were beaten with rifle butts or suspended from the ceiling by our hands tied behind our backs … Once I got so desperate that I tried to kill myself by jumping on a knife which one of the interrogators was holding in his hand, but I failed and only ended up getting even more beatings. They told me: "We will not allow  you to die”…

Expelled from school

In 1965 I began to attend school. Two years later my uncle was arrested by the Chinese police after they searched our home and found some weapons and old Tibetan currency. Our house was plundered: except for blankets and kitchen utensils, everything was taken away.

That same year some Chinese officials ordered me to shout anti-American slogans but, seething with rage for what the Chinese did to my uncle and my home, I shouted instead: “Long live America”!  For this I was expelled from school. My fellow students were made to go around the Barkhor shouting: “Americans go back”. I never understood what this slogan meant. Go back from where?

Employment

After being expelled from school I was sent to a spinning mill where I was employed in the  production of woollen yarn. I hated this work, but nevertheless was forced to remain there for a year and half. After that I was sent to work at the Toelung Electric Power Station but I knew nothing about electricity. The station manager told me to take driving lessons and I was eventually employed to drive the power station’s motor vehicle which I did until 1974.

I was not very happy in Toelung and earned very little money. I started with a salary of eight mao (ten mao is equal to one yuan) per day which was later increased to one yuan.

First escape attempt and arrest

In 1975 I returned to Lhasa on the pretext that I was ill and had to go to the hospital there. After my permit for staying in Lhasa expired, my Work Unit leader at Toelung wrote to the concerned Neighbourhood Committee in Lhasa, asking them to order me to return to Toelung. I did not want to return and planned to escape to India with four others: Thundup, Norbu, Masasi (a Tibetan Muslim) and Wangchen.

We stole a jeep and drove towards the border but we had an accident and drove into a ditch. We had no choice but to abandon the jeep and return to Lhasa where we were arrested on January 31, 1975. We were handcuffed and taken to the main PSB station in Lhasa and all five of us were then taken to Gutsa Prison.

Gutsa interrogations

On arrival at Gutsa we were severely beaten. I was nicknamed bhutug (son of nobles), which implied that I was a pampered upper-class boy. I was accused of having links with ten other bhutugs but I steadfastly denied any connection. In the end the ten bhutugs were executed.

I was kept in a solitary cell for six months and twelve days. On one occasion my friend Nunu tried to escape from prison with a Mongolian boy but they were caught and taken back to their cells. After this incident all political prisoners were kept handcuffed and manacled for some time.

Every night we were interrogated and asked whether we had any links with a certain underground resistance movement. And every time we denied it we were beaten with rifle butts or suspended from the ceiling by our hands which were tied behind our backs. The same questions were asked each time. Once I got so desperate that I tried to kill myself by jumping on a knife which one of the interrogators was holding in his hand, but I failed and only ended up getting even more beatings. They told me: “We will not allow you to die”.

Prison sentences

On August 12, 1975 the guards read out the names of eight prisoners, including mine. Our handcuffs were removed and we were given some food to eat. We thought we were going to be executed and Nunu and the Mongolian boy began to cry in fear. After we had finished eating we were taken to a large playground with each of us accompanied by two guards. We were put in self-tightening handcuffs and manacles and made to stand on a stage facing the crowd. A wooden board was hung around each of our necks which read “dhengdhü sarje ngologpa” (modern counter-revolutionary) and we had to listen to our “crimes” being read out. We were accused of forming a counter-revolutionary association and of attempting to escape and our sentences were announced.

Nunu was sentenced to seven years of imprisonment. Tenzin was given five years. Onosi was “black-capped” (declared a social outcast) for three years. I was “black-capped” for six years. Wangdu was released without any punishment.

Nunu and Tenzin were taken back to prison and Onosi and I were handed over to our Neighbourhood Committee which made us sign a document stating we must have prior permission before going anywhere. Even when leaving our house we were required to inform our neighbours of our destinations and if we wanted to stay at someone’s home for a number of days we were required to inform our Neighbourhood Committee. Every morning we were required to sweep the surrounding area and we had to report immediately whenever the Neighbourhood Committee called us to do some work. Sometimes we were sent to collect human faeces. We were never paid for this work and only when there was no work allotted by the Neighbourhood Committee could we work at the yarn factory to make some money.

Second Arrest

In 1979 all the “black-capped” ones had their “black hats” removed and many political prisoners arrested in 1959 were released. A new era had begun.  Under the changed circumstances I applied for a job at the Lhasa City Transport Company.

In 1989 I participated in a demonstration in Lhasa. Later I was arrested from my home in the middle of the night. I was kicked and beaten with rifle butts, my hands were tied behind my back and I was taken to the police station where again I was kicked and beaten, especially in my face. After some time I was taken to another police station where again I was beaten. I was asked to give the names of other people in my group.

First I denied that I had taken part in the demonstration at all but the police confronted me with still and video pictures of me participating in the demonstration. I insisted that I had only watched the demonstrators and had not really taken part in the demonstration. At this I was kicked very hard in my kidneys. Since then my kidneys have constantly troubled me. The interrogators also shocked me on may face, my neck and my hands with an electric cattle-prod as well as using  some kind of electric gloves with which they pinched me on the face. This was very painful. I was finally dragged into a cell and left there lying on the ground, almost unconscious, from where other prisoners helped me onto a bed. Around 4:00 am I was taken to Outridu Prison, Sangyip.

Prison conditions

In Outridu I was put in a cell outside the prison compound and was given a mug and a pair of chopsticks. In the morning I was given two hard tingmo (steamed bread) and a cup of black tea. There was no lunch. On the evening of March 12, 1989, the prisoners in my cell were not given any food and I lost my temper and threw my chopsticks in the air. My mug was thrown against the window and made loud noises as it fell on the hard concrete floor. Fellow prisoners felt encouraged and they too threw their chopsticks in the air. The guards came and soon found out that I had started this incident. I was beaten until I became numb.

On March 14, 1989 I was taken to the old Seitru prison, Sangyip. I was put in a cell with four others and left alone for one month without being beaten or interrogated. Then three “TAR” officials ? one Chinese and a male and a female Tibetan ? came to interrogate me again about the names of fellow demonstrators. On the first day I was not beaten but for the next 17 days I was tortured every day.
I was stripped naked and made to sit on my knees on a wooden stick. After some time my knees began to hurt a great deal. Two PSB men applied electric shocks to my genitals. This sort of treatment continued and my health deteriorated considerably after some days.

One day a PSB man came into my cell with a stiletto (a dagger with a narrow blade) and threatened to kill me if I did not give him any names of people in my group. When I refused the man stabbed me in my thighs: twice on the right and once on the left side. I was denied treatment for two days. I could not move my legs. My cell mates started appealing to the authorities to take me to the hospital and finally I was allowed to be taken to the prison dispensary. The dispensary had one Chinese doctor who stitched my wounds and treated me for three months and sixteen days. At first I tried to tell him what had caused my wounds, but he warned me to keep quiet in order to avoid more problems.

Released without trial or sentence

I spent the last seven days of my prison life in old Seitru from where I was finally released without ever having being tried or sentenced. I went straight to my aunt's house where I discovered that she had just died; she was unable to cope with the alarming things she had heard of my ill-treatment in prison.

Soon after my release I was called to the Neighbourhood Committee where I was made to sign several documents agreeing not to take part in any more demonstrations. They took seven passport-size photographs of me and also my thumb-prints. After that I approached the Transport Company where I had worked prior to my arrest. The company head said me he could not employ me officially because I had taken part in demonstrations but proposed to hire me on a casual basis. I turned down the offer and found employment with a businessman from Kham as a truck driver transporting goods between Lhasa and places in Kham.

More demonstrations

On May 24, 1993 my neighbours came to my house and warned me not to take part in the demonstration taking place that day. I decided to stay at home to avoid trouble. However, when my children came home from school that afternoon crying because the police had thrown tear gas bombs in their school yard (Barkhor Junior School), I changed my mind. I convinced my neighbours to also take part in the demonstration and we all went.

The demonstrators had just started shouting independence slogans in front of the Potala Palace. My neighbours and I marched along with the demonstrators towards the main “TAR” Government Office complex. The situation was very chaotic: some people were shouting slogans about price rises, some were shouting slogans for independence, I shouted slogans of “Free Tibet”.

After three days the police came to my house and asked me if I had encouraged my neighbours to go to the demonstration. I replied that I had indeed done so, but that we did not raise any slogans calling for independence. The police left without saying anything and did not return.

Second, successful escape

One day in October 1993 I found myself in Shigatse where I had just unloaded a cargo and was looking for goods to be transported. A Tibetan man asked me if I would transport a cargo of vegetables for him to Dangmo for 1,500 yuan. I did not have the special pass to go to that border town and he soon had one made for me. I told the person appointed to accompany me that I would go to Gyantse to look for cargo and would be back very soon and I left that evening.

I asked a friend in Dangmo to find me a guide who would take me across the border into Nepal and he soon came back with a Nepalese woman who would take me for 1,200 yuan. I wrote a letter to the office which had mortgaged me the truck, saying I was going to India and that they could pick up their truck from Dangmo. At that time I did not think of the risks to my wife and children of my escape and only later realised that my action might have put them in trouble.

I left Tibet with three guides and two other escapees who had each paid 800 yuan. I realised that I should have bargained with the guide. We reached Barabisi without much trouble but it happened to be Diwali (Hindu new year festival) and so we could not leave for Kathmandu immediately as there was no bus. We spent our time learning some Nepalese language and left for Kathmandu as soon as the buses started running again. I reached Dharamsala, India, in November 1993.

I was the youngest of all prisoners at Gutsa at the time but I was not kept in the special juvenile section because it was meant only for juvenile criminals, not for political prisoners. In the juvenile section children could meet their parents very often, whereas in the adult section we could see our relatives only once a month.

Expulsion from school

I went to school when I was nine years old. My school was situated in the Ramoche area in Lhasa. In 1987 I took part in the October demonstrations for two reasons. The first was that my father had advised me to do so. My father, a former monk from Sera, had spent about six years in prison between 1959 and 1965 and he often told me about these years and encouraged me to work for Tibetan independence. The second reason was that I was angry about the system of guanxi, (meaning ‘connections’ in Chinese) without which it was very difficult to get admission to higher education, hospitals, monasteries and other institutions.

I was only 13 years old when I took part in the 1987 demonstrations. On October 3, 4 and 5, I shouted slogans on the street. Together with two other boys I pushed over police jeeps and set them on fire. When one of these jeeps exploded the fire spread to the new police station. I noticed that I was being photographed by a policeman and I grabbed his camera and threw it into the fire.

Detained and tortured at age 13

On the evening of the October 5, 1987 I was awoken at midnight and arrested in my home. I was not beaten inside the house. They wanted to take me to the police station in my pyjamas, but my brother insisted that I be allowed to get dressed after which about 10 policemen took me down and hand-cuffed me. Only after I was put in the jeep did they start beating me and kicking me with their heavy boots. At first they took me to a branch police station where I stayed for only a few minutes. I saw many others waiting to be taken to another bigger police station. The bigger station was close to the post office on the way to Drapchi Prison and here I was beaten very badly. I was hit with an iron rod and given electric shocks on the upper part of my body and they kicked me in the mouth. My hands were cuffed diagonally behind my back while bottles were stuck inside my elbows. After a few minutes my arms became numb. I was asked the same questions over and over again: “Why did you take part?”, “Why did you set those jeeps on fire?”, “Who sent you to the demonstration?”, “Were you sent by the Dalai Lama?” I answered that nobody had sent me. I was not given any food or water and for one day and one night they questioned me intensely. Whenever they took a break I was put alone in a cell.

Released after several days

My older brother approached some policemen and appealed for my release from the police station. Before my release I was strongly advised not to take part in any subsequent demonstrations and warned that I would be sentenced to many years if I did so. I agreed not to take part in any political activities in the future but I didn't mean what I said.

When I got home I learned that I had been expelled from school as had many of my friends who had also participated in the demonstration. My parents gave me some money to do some petty business in the Barkhor market. I bought some socks and other clothes and tried to sell them in the evening when there was less police surveillance as I did not have a special permit to do this work. I usually earned about 5 to 10 yuan per evening.

Adult prison at age 16

I lived like this for three years. In September 1990 I took part in a small demonstration consisting of ten people circumambulating the Tsuglhakhang (Lhasa’s central temple) and shouting slogans on the Barkhor. After circumambulating halfway around the temple the police arrested us and all 10 of us were thrown into a small car where we were beaten a lot. We were taken to Gutsa Prison where we were made to stand upside down against a wall for about an hour. A few Tibetan policemen secretly assisted us by throwing some water in our mouths.

I was interrogated in the evening. During the first interrogation I was slapped on my face and kicked by Chinese interrogators. During subsequent interrogations, I was questioned by Tibetans and they did not beat or kick me and even gave me some tea. I was kept alone in a cell until about six months later when all 10 of us were taken to the Lhasa Intermediate Court. We did not get an opportunity to speak in court and our sentences were bluntly announced. I was sentenced to three years.

Before we were taken to prison I requested to briefly see my father. I was allowed to be taken home but there I learned that my father had just died because he was unable to cope with the worry about my imprisonment. All ten of us were initially taken back to Gutsa Prison but later I discovered that all the others were then taken to different locations.

I was the youngest of all prisoners at Gutsa at the time but I was not kept in the special juvenile section because it was meant only for juvenile criminals, not for political prisoners. In the juvenile section children could meet their parents very often, whereas in the adult section we could see our relatives only once a month. I suppose there were other differences as well, but I did not make any inquiries.

Forced labour in prison

I had to work with a small chisel at a stone carving site. If we did not handle the chisel very carefully we would hit our legs. I worked in a group of eleven people which was called tzug (Chinese for ‘group’) rather than rukhag (Tibetan for ‘work unit’). There were four tzug in total and I worked in the second tzug. Each tzug consisted of 10 or 11 people with political prisoners and common criminals mixed. In my tzug there were four or five common criminals and the rest were political prisoners.

When I was in Gutsa there were about 100 political prisoners and about 300 ordinary criminals. Most prisoners did not work; they were simply waiting for their sentences and their subsequent transfer to another prison. About 50 people were sent to work; there were four tzugs of 10 people each and ten others who worked on a vegetable farm.

I was one of the few people in Gutsa who had not been transferred to another prison after the announcement of my sentence. Some of the people I worked with were still waiting for their sentences. I think that those with cases considered very serious were not sent to work before their sentence was announced. At the stone carving site, which was outside Gutsa, there was a bit more freedom with more food and more contact among prisoners. Most people preferred working to sitting in a dark cell waiting, even if the work was very hard.

I stayed in a cell with about 14 other prisoners, most of whom were ordinary criminals. I think there were only two other political prisoners in my cell. Most of the prisoners in my cell were Tibetan and three were Chinese. Almost all of my cell mates were waiting for their sentences. Sometimes they were called to work outside but they did not have to work every day like me. In the morning we got a small cup of back tea and a tingmo and in the afternoon and evening we got two tingmo and some boiled vegetables.

Caught with letter

In 1992 a fellow prisoner, a monk, asked me to pass a letter on to his relatives. At that time I was working on the vegetable farm. When I returned to my cell, I was searched and the letter was found. The letter, which I had not read, turned out to be rather political and I was taken to the interrogation centre and beaten with a wooden stick. My two interrogators (one Chinese and one Tibetan) threw stones at my back. They asked me who had given me the letter and I answered that I had found it on the floor. The letter had been signed by Pemba and they asked me who he was. There were so many prisoners named Pemba in prison that they wouldn't be able to trace him. I didn't answer.

When the Chinese interrogator started to beat me with a wooden stick I pushed him back and he fell on the ground. He became very angry and tried to hit me on the head with the stick but I protected myself with my arm. When my interrogators saw the big bump on my broken arm they looked very worried and warned me not to tell my relatives about the incident. I was left in my cell without medical treatment.
When my brother came to see me he saw my arm and asked me what had happened. Before I could answer one of the guards stepped forward and said that I had fallen down the stairs. My brother appealed to the prison authorities and they agreed to allow him to take me to the hospital, accompanied by two guards.

Release and political songs

On September 29, 1993 I was released. I was warned that if I took part in any demonstrations in the future I would be sentenced to many years. My mother came to fetch me.

I started to sell clothes in the market again in the evening and I spent a lot of time with “T” and his friends. One evening we met in a small tea-shop and decided to walk around the Potala Palace together. During our walk we spontaneously started singing ‘Tso Ngonpo’ and ‘Soso Lamdo’.
Tso Ngonpo (Lake Kokonor)

In Lake Kokonor there are gold fish
Their limbs are shining on Tibet
A  person who thinks in the right way will think that
His Holiness the Dalai Lama is the parents of his parents

Parents’ parents are parents
Parents’ parents are parents

Tibetan brothers and sisters should work for Tibetan independence
A person who thinks in the right way will think that
His Holiness the Dalai Lama is the parents of his parents

Parents’ parents are parents
Parents’ parents are parents

Those who live in the northern countries
Should struggle for Tibetan independence
A person who thinks in the right way will think that
His Holiness the Dalai lama is the parents of his parents

Parents’ parents are parents
Parents’ parents are parents

Soso Lamdo  (Each person should go his own way)

Each person should go his own way
Rise Tibetans and unite in your struggle for Tibetan independence
Try to turn bitter into sweet
Tibetan brothers and sisters
Don't listen to others
Listen to me
Try to struggle for Tibetan independence

I will tell you a story
Long ago Tibet had its independence
Long ago Tibet was a religious place
Now it's occupied by the Chinese
Let’s starve the Chinese
Tibetan youths have been imprisoned
This is unjust
Pray for Tibetan independence

Independence
Independence
Independence

While singing we raised some slogans shouting for Tibetan independence. Suddenly four of us were grabbed from behind and we couldn't see who was holding us. They turned out to be policemen who took us to the Shol Uyon Lenkhang (Shol Neighbourhood Committee). There we were beaten with a stick and a leather belt. I was beaten with my own belt. When it broke I was beaten with an electric baton, but I was not given any shocks. I had to take off all my clothes except my underwear and they punched me in my abdomen and chest with their fists. Then they slapped me on my back with electric wire.

I was beaten more than the others because I had started the songs. They asked me why I had sung the songs and I answered: “I don't have any work; if Tibet regains its independence I will get a job and rights.” They threatened to take me back to Gutsa. The next day we were released but not  before we were ordered to clean the room where we had stayed. We had been given nothing to eat or drink since our arrest.

Mother advises me to escape

After my release I went straight home. The next day two policemen came to my house and shouted my name. When my mother asked what they wanted they answered: “We want to make some inquiries.” When I came out, I saw that the policemen were holding “K.C.” and “S.D.” and the three of us were taken to the police station. When we arrived K.C. signalled that I should escape and I ran to my home as fast as I could. My mother said I should not stay at home and told me to go to the house of a relative in “K”. I went there and stayed inside the house for 10 days after which  my mother came with clothes and blankets. She had also contacted a guide who offered to take me to India for 500 yuan.

I left on the night of Ganden Namchoe (December 8, 1993), in the back of a truck with many other people. It was about 1 a.m. We drove to Dhingri and from there we started to trek to Nepal. Between Sharkumbu and Kadari we were stopped by 10 Nepalese policemen who detained us for about three hours in a house along the road. When we were released some people in our group took a bus to Kathmandu but I walked to Kodak. I climbed on top of a bus and hid under a pile of blankets. I arrived in Dharamsala on January 14, 1994.

… we were each given a thin cotton quilt which was filthy. This was all we had, for mattress or blanket. We were given as well a bowl which was also very dirty and we had to clean it by spitting into it and scrubbing it with the quilt. Prison food consisted of a strip of vegetable in boiled water and two small tingmo, no more than a fistful, often even less. Some nuns made prayer beads out of the tingmo and when this was discovered by prison guards the nuns were severely punished.

Arrested for demonstration

I joined Shugseb Nunnery, east of Lhasa, in 1989. I remained there for only one year because on September 14, 1990, just after sun-rise, I took part in a demonstration. There were twelve participants in all: eight nuns, three monks and myself. The nuns were almost all from Michungri and Shugseb Nunnery in Lhasa, and the monks were from Tsomonling Monastery, Lhasa. The youngest among us was a fifteen-year-old nun named Yangchen from Shugseb.

We had initially decided to stage the demonstration on September 12, but our Rinpoche advised us against it, saying it would only bring suffering on us. During the demonstration we shouted ‘Free Tibet’ slogans as we marched eastward from Mani Lhakhang along the northern Barkhor. When we reached Dongchen Sur we were arrested by many police and the seven of us were each held by two men. Five nuns managed to escape. We were hand-cuffed with our hands behind our backs and electric cattle-prods were used on our faces, hands and anywhere else the policemen liked. We were pushed into a police truck and taken directly to Gutsa Prison.

Solitary confinement, interrogation and beatings

At Gutsa we were each taken to separate cells and mercilessly beaten. I was again given shocks on my face with an electric cattle-prod. When I tried to cover my face with my hands I was again hand-cuffed.
I was interrogated from the time of my arrival at Gutsa until about midday. The interrogation room had one table and three chairs and there were three interrogators ? two Chinese and one Tibetan ? each holding an electric cattle-prod in his hand. They asked me,  "How many of you were there?", "What did you shout?" and I replied that there were only seven of us. Whenever I refused to talk I was kept standing at the door for about half an hour and told to think very carefully. If I continued to remain silent I would be beaten all over again. After the interrogation I was locked in a solitary confinement cell for two months and fourteen days and I was interrogated after every 10 days. The other six were also kept like this.

The solitary confinement cells and the interrogation rooms were separate and in rows. At the time of my detention, there were 17 people in solitary confinement: 10 in one row and seven in another row. I knew only the seven of us who had been arrested together and four other Shugseb nuns arrested about twenty days before us for also taking part in a demonstration. Apart from the electric cattle-prod, some of us were beaten with a thick rubber stick. Chime Yangchen, being small and light, was hand-cuffed and dragged up and down. One of the monks, Tenzin, had a broken rib after he was beaten with a stick but was not taken to the hospital.

During solitary confinement, I was once caught talking with three other Shugseb nuns through the barred window of our cells. Two prison officials called us out individually. One official, Lin Peng, was cruel and ruthless. He made each of us lie down flat on the floor on our bellies, with our arms and legs stretched out, for a long time while he stamped hard on our hands and feet repeatedly with his heavy leather boots.

On another occasion, while my cell-door was opened for serving lunch, I went out to get water from the nearby water tap. A Chinese woman prisoner, who was serving the lunch, informed the prison guards and a furious policeman beat me continuously for about half an hour. He uttered a lot of angry words in Chinese but I did not understand them. He punched and kicked me with heavy boots and I saw prisoners in neighbouring cells shedding tears as they saw me suffering.

On the day we were brought to the prison we were each given a thin cotton quilt which was filthy. This was all we had, for mattress or blanket. We were given as well a bowl which was also very dirty and we had to clean it by spitting into it and scrubbing it with the quilt. Prison food consisted of a strip of vegetable in boiled water and two small tingmo, no more than a fistful, often even less. Some nuns made prayer beads out of the tingmo and when this was discovered by prison guards the nuns were severely punished.

“Re-education through labour”

We were sentenced two months and fourteen days after the date of our arrest. It was not a court sentence: we were each simply given a piece of paper which, apart from the bilingual title, was written entirely in Chinese which we could not read. We were later given to understand that the four nuns had been sentenced to three years of “re-education through labour” and the three monks were given two years each. After sentencing we were made to work on a vegetable farm in Gutsa.

After more than a year in Gutsa, we were transferred to Toelung Trisam labour camp. We were taken in a batch of twenty prisoners in a truck. When we arrived at Trisam, twenty of the prisoners were female and all but two of these were nuns. During our years in prison we were not allowed to have our hair cut in accordance with our religion and it grew very long.

Release and escape to India

I was released on March 13, 1993 after completing my prison term. Ngawang Kyizom, an unregistered nun arrested with me on September 14, 1990, was also released. There was no question of my returning to Shugseb as I had already learnt from visitors while in prison that I had been expelled by the Chinese authorities. All except 30 of Shugseb’s 200 nuns had been expelled and replaced with new nuns and some were still in prison. After making a pilgrimage to all the holy places in Lhasa I returned home.

I left Tibet on August 14, 1993 in a group of 21 Tibetans, most were monks from Kham. We each paid 600 to 800 yuan to a Khampa guide who took us in a truck up to the border town of Lhatse, Shigatse, and then on foot to Katari in Nepal where he left us to our own devices. The journey on foot took us about one month.

When we entered Nepal we ran into a group of Nepalese police who chased us. Some of my fellow travellers were caught and robbed of all their belongings. After running away, I found myself alone in the forest and began to search for the others. We finally managed to regroup, but five could not be found. From there it took about 36 hours to reach Nepal.

Once, when we tried to exchange a few words through the barred window in the cell’s door, prison guards came running and beat both of us. We were forced to lie flat on our bellies and raise our legs so as to rest them on the door’s barred window. Then the guards repeatedly stamped on our hands and back. Whenever one of us slipped our feet down the window, we were beaten even more.

Interrogated and beaten

After taking part in the demonstration on September 14, 1990 and being taken to Gutsa Prison, I was interrogated. Torture and beatings were an integral part of the interrogation process. Whenever I refused to answer the questions, the interrogators jabbed the electric baton on my neck, head, hands and on my thighs.  Sometimes they beat me with a plastic rod on my back.

After a few hours like this I was led to the three other nuns who had taken part in the demonstration and who were arrested with me. I was asked whether I knew them which I did not since, as an unregistered nun, I had not lived in any nunnery. When I told the interrogators that I met them only on the day of the demonstration, they refused to believe me. They grew angry, beat me on the back and, for the first time since the start of the interrogation, used the thumb-cuff to lock my hands diagonally behind my back. This was kept on for about 10 minutes.

At around 6:00 p.m. all those who had been arrested were ordered to go to the prison guards to give their biographical data. One of the guards asked me how many times I shouted slogans and  when I replied “once” he punched me in the head. Later while the guards ate their dinner we were made to stand and watch. The guards threw food at us and warned us not to move our heads. By the time the guards finished their dinner my face was covered with food thrown by them.

Solitary confinement for over two months

All seven of us were later locked up individually in small dark cells and were kept like this for two months and fourteen days. During this period I was interrogated once about every ten days but I always stood by what I had first told the interrogators. Later, I learnt that others who had said different things at different times were treated much more brutally then I was.

I was put in a cell next to Chime Youdon, the youngest among us. Once, when we tried to exchange a few words through the barred window in the cell’s door, prison guards came running and beat both of us. We were forced to lie flat on our bellies and raise our legs so as to rest them on the door’s barred window. Then the guards repeatedly stamped on our hands and back. Whenever one of us slipped our feet down the window, we were beaten even more. After about one hour the guards left. Chime Youdon suffered more than I did as she was less able to maintain her balance and therefore received more blows.

One day a group of monks from Toelung was brought to our cell block. We were warned that we should not even look at them, however, when the monks arrived, some other prisoners and I  waved at them. In a violent reprisal the prison guards beat us on the face, on the legs and on the thighs. We were made to run around the prison courtyard six times, which took us 15 to 20  minutes. After the second round I could no  longer run first and a woman prison guard, who happened to be a Tibetan, threw stones at me in an attempt to speed me up.

“Re-education through labour”

After two months and 14 days, I was sentenced to three years of “re-education through labour” and was sent to work in the prison kitchen as a cook. This job had many advantages. Sometimes my kitchen mates and I stole food from the staff cupboard. I was often warned by the guards not to put too much oil in the food for the prisoners but I never heeded this and sometimes I also gave hot charcoal or flour to fellow prisoners. Once I was caught doing this and was shut in the toilet for about half an hour.

In 1990 while in Gutsa I met a nun named Dawa Lhazom from Chubsang Nunnery. She was one of the nuns arrested for taking part in the demonstration at Norbulingka on July 2, 1989. She told me that after her arrest, while being taken in a jeep to prison, a Chinese policeman became very angry with her when she answered his questions in Tibetan. He took out a pair of scissors and cut off a good part of her left breast. I saw the large frightening scar which the wound had left. In addition, the big toe of her right foot was almost completely severed with a knife. Although she was bleeding profusely from her wounds, Dawa was made to continue standing for a long time while interrogated and received no medical treatment.

Labour camp

After more than a year at Gutsa I was transferred to Toelung Trisam labour camp, located about 10 km west of Lhasa. When I arrived there I was interrogated but not beaten and I was told that Trisam was not a prison but a school. Every morning the inmates attended a meeting and were  given lectures about the Chinese political system and Constitution. In the afternoon we had to work.  My duty consisted mostly of cleaning toilets and taking the faeces to farms where it would be used as manure. Sometimes I had to grow vegetables in greenhouses. It was very hot inside those greenhouses in the summer, but when sometimes I almost fainted because of the heat the guards accused me of feigning sickness in order to avoid work.

Every evening there was again a meeting during which each inmate was asked to recall what was taught in the morning. Sometimes we were asked to write down what we had learnt. Those who refused were put in a dark solitary cell and given only one tingmo and one cup of boiled water per day. Often we were asked to repudiate the old Tibetan society “where the difference between serfs and serf-owners was very big, and where the hands and feet of the prisoners were cut off as a matter of routine.” The Chinese officials told us many times that the Chinese Government had invited the Dalai Lama to come back, but that he had refused. “You can shout as loudly as you can that the Dalai Lama should return, but he is not coming back,” they used to tell us.

Release and escape

I was released together with Dawa Yangzom on March 13, 1993, after completing my three-year prison term and I went home to Ruthok. All my chances of being admitted to a nunnery were now gone and so, in November that year, I left Tibet, passing through Dhingri to enter Nepal through Solukhumbu and finally reaching Kathmandu through Katari. In Katari we were arrested by the Nepalese police and taken to a prison in Kathmandu but nuns and small children were allowed to leave prison on the same day. The others had to remain in prison for four days.

My hands were tied diagonally behind my back and they put bottles in my elbows. When I didn't give the answer they wanted, they tied me upside down, suspended from the air. Once I was tied to a chair, while my interrogators used me as a dummy to practice their martial arts skills on me. All the time they were laughing at me.

Childhood

I was born in 1973. My mother had been killed when I was still a baby. She was an oracle. The Chinese considered her to be the embodiment of backwardness and superstitious reactionary behaviour. I joined Sera monastery when I was 12 years old. As a boy I was very interested in history and whilst at school I read many Chinese history books which all stated that Tibet was part of China. At that time I never doubted this.

Underground Organisation

In the monastery I soon learned about the ‘Snow Leopard Organisation’ but I did not join them immediately. I was very confused when I read some of their pamphlets because of what I had read and heard at school. The contradictions in “truths” became apparent and I started to question what I had learned at school. I decided to join the group when I was 14 years old but did not tell anyone because I was very much aware of the dangers involved. I worked for the Snow Leopard Organisation until I was arrested two years later.

Fifty of the Sera Monastery monks were members of the ‘Snow Leopard Organisation’. I received many documents through “A” from “X” monastery as A had indirect contact with Dharamsala. “A” is still at “X” monastery and, although the Chinese authorities are aware of his contact with Dharamsala, they believe it concerns only religious affairs. They don't know that he is also communicating political news to and from India. I think the reason that the Chinese haven't arrested him yet is that he is a very high lama and they seem reluctant to arrest people who are very well known.

I was actively involved in the distribution of information from India to Tibet. Among the pamphlets I circulated were statements from the Tibetan Youth Congress and I distributed these in Lhoka, Nagchuka, Shigatse and other places. Mostly I would leave them on the street, hoping that somebody would pick them up. The main purpose for distributing the pamphlets was to inform the people, especially the young people, about the democratic reforms in the Tibetan Government-in-Exile. I think that many Tibetans, particularly the youth, fear that the traditional hierarchical form of government will be installed if the Chinese leave Tibet. I put the pamphlets wherever I thought they were safe and also put them in the mail boxes of Tibetan officials, hoping they would be influenced by the information they contained.

Tortured and sentenced at age 16

On March 3, 1988 I took part in the Monlam demonstration and was arrested, along with many others. Fortunately the authorities were not aware of my involvement in the ‘Snow Leopard Organisation’. I was thrown into a truck like a bag and my fellow demonstrators and I were beaten very badly. We were driven to Gutsa Prison, where our hands and legs were cuffed and we were again beaten. Some of the people detained had broken legs or arms and some had infections on their faces. I was locked in a cell with about 60 people, both men and women, for two days without food or water. A small tin served as our toilet and every so often this tin was emptied into a larger bowl. It was incredibly difficult to go to the toilet with cuffed hands and legs and there was no privacy at all which was very humiliating.

I felt extremely ill but despite this I was sent to a room for interrogation. I felt so sick that I almost couldn't answer the questions that were fired at me. I was asked repeatedly: "Who did you work with?" and "Who gave you the idea to demonstrate?" and I kept repeating that it had been my own decision to go to the demonstration and that I had not been involved with any kind of group. My hands were tied diagonally behind my back and they put bottles in my elbows. When I didn't give the answer they wanted, they tied me upside down, suspended from the air. Once I was tied to a chair, while my interrogators used me as a dummy to practice their martial arts skills on me. All the time they were laughing at me.

After the interrogation, groups of 15 to 20 people were led before the officials to receive a verdict. Everybody was sentenced to different terms and we were not asked any questions nor were we offered any legal assistance. Initially I was sentenced to one year which was based solely on the first police report and my behaviour during the interrogation. Later I heard that ones facial expression during interrogations played a very important role in determining the length of the sentence. I was only 16 years old when I was arrested and I think my sentence would have been longer had I been older. The Chinese officials seemed to think that I was young enough to change my mind about Tibetan independence and thus if my sentence were very long then my pro-independence attitude was in danger of becoming stronger.

Forced labour

From the moment my verdict was handed down I started labouring. I was sent to a work unit which produced rocks for construction. The work was very hard and I never managed to fulfil my daily quota of two cubic metres. The shape of the rocks had to be absolutely perfect otherwise we had to start all over again. I was very young and slightly built and had great difficulties to earn ten points a day for my work and my behaviour. This meant I often had to do extra tasks like collecting firewood, sweeping the surroundings or collecting human faeces. Non-political prisoners who could not fulfil their quota were rarely punished.

The points system was arbitrary. Every few weeks the points were announced publicly and only once a year they were officially allotted. If a prisoner managed to accumulate 10 points every day they received six months reduction on their sentence. If you behaved really well and also worked very hard you had a chance of getting the maximum reduction which was one year.

Behaviour was assessed on the basis of actions as well as attitude and facial expression. One day a nun who had been in prison for a long time advised me to change my facial expression, saying that this would greatly benefit me, but I could not bear to hide my anger under a mask of smiling obedience. I showed great interest in reading and the prison authorities thought they would be able to change my mind by giving me the “correct literature”. I read them but I never changed my mind.

In winter my work unit had to remove snow from the roads. One day a group of school children came walking by and some soldiers started throwing snow balls at the girls. I was also hit by a snow ball. As I was removing the snow from my collar, a soldier came up to me and said: “Why are you not working?” to which I answered, “Why are you throwing snow?”. The soldier kicked me so hard that I fell back about two metres. I was so angry that I took a broomstick and hit the soldier in return and as a result my sentence was extended by one year.

Release and resumption of political activities

After my release I resumed my secret activities, distributing pamphlets wherever I could. Once I received a letter from Ngapo Ngawang Jigme’s son who lives in America and I made copies of the letter and spread them everywhere. I gave them to the children of Chinese and Tibetan officials and asked them to pass them on to their parents. One Tibetan ex-official approached me and said he would help me to distribute the pamphlets. I gave him some leaflets not knowing he was a spy.

One day the police came to my house and asked me about the pamphlets. They did not arrest me immediately and I denied everything. The police returned later and showed me some of the pamphlets which I had distributed. I then confessed to what I had done but again they did not arrest me. When my grandmother heard about what had happened, she tried to convince me to go to India. I kept saying: “No, no ? I cannot leave you here all by yourself”, but she pleaded with me to go and meet His Holiness. She claimed that this would make her happier than if I stayed.

Finally I decided to go. When I reached Nepal, I sent a letter to my grandmother saying that I had met His Holiness. I wanted to make her happy. When I did meet His Holiness a few months later, I had my picture taken with him and I sent this picture to my grandmother.

 One day the prison authorities announced that they would take blood from the prisoners in order to check for diseases. I noticed that they were only taking blood from Tibetan political and non-political prisoners and not from any Chinese prisoners.

Family background

My father died when I was very young and my mother was left with four children and a farm to look after. Every person in our district was allotted 1 mu, 7 fen of land and my five-member family had 8 mu of land. Only 5 mu was suitable for cultivation as the rest was too wet and we cultivated barley and mustard. Each year we had to sell a fixed amount of barley to the local authorities and if we could not produce enough to fill the annual quota we had to explain the reasons to the authorities. If they did not accept our arguments, they would threaten to evict us from the land if the next harvest wasn't better. I don't think that the authorities ever carried out this threat.

Joining a nunnery

My uncle inspired me to become a nun and after waiting for one year, I was admitted to Michungri Nunnery in 1988 with the help of a relative who was already there. Before I was admitted I had to submit my picture at the chenguanqu (municipal) office and sign a paper promising that I would never take part in any demonstration.

When I entered Michungri, I took part in the reconstruction of the nunnery. There was no time for religious or political education then but, after the reconstruction work was completed, officials started to come to the nunnery to conduct political education meetings. There was no place for them to stay in the nunnery and so they usually arrived in the morning and left in the evening. They came about two or three times a month during a year.

During the meetings, which usually lasted two or three hours, they told us that the Tibetan people had helped the People’s Liberation Army and advised us to do the same. They warned us not to follow the path of the khadrel ringluk (the separatist movement) as this would be like “going to the edge of a crevasse and falling down”. We were no longer able to concentrate much of our time to religious studies and the “Work Unit Team” often interfered in the daily functioning of the nunnery.

Whenever I went along with other nuns to collect water or firewood I heard them talking about independence. I spoke about my district where the authorities were collecting more and more money from the village people to feed the officials and where everybody was forced to do construction work and were not free to choose their own livelihood. The elder nuns advised me not to speak about these things inside the nunnery.

Demonstration in Barkhor

On October 13, 1989, I went with five other nuns to Lhasa, and on the next day we demonstrated at Dongchen Sur (a neighbourhood?) in the Barkhor. The situation in Lhasa on that day was very strict as the people tried to celebrate the Nobel Peace Prize awarded to His Holiness. The streets were full of policemen, both in uniform and in plain clothes, and the six of us decided to split up and meet again at Dongchen Sur to start the demonstration.

When I reached Dongchen Sur, only three other nuns had been able to get there. The four of us started shouting slogans close to the Dharchen (big prayer flag in the west) but after we had walked only a half-circle around the Tsuglhakhang (central temple) we were stopped by the police and arrested. The two other nuns had just joined us then but before they could start shouting slogans they too were arrested. Each of us was held by two policemen who kicked us with their boots and hit us with their rifle butts, mainly in our abdomens and on our backs.

All six of us were loaded into a police jeep and on the way to the gong an thing (police headquarters) we were beaten on our heads. When we reached the police station we were thrown from the jeep and inside the police station we had to stand for half an hour before we were interrogated. I was interrogated for about one hour about why I had demonstrated, who had advised me to go and who else had been involved in the preparations. The two men kicked me with their heavy boots and hit me with a stick. They gave me electric shocks on my hands, shoulders, breasts, face and even on my tongue. I kept saying that I had come by myself, that nobody had advised me.

In Gutsa prison

After about one hour all six of us were taken to Gutsa where we were thrown from the jeep. Inside the prison we had to stand for one hour until we were interrogated for the second time. I was questioned by one Tibetan and one Chinese, this time for about three to four hours. I was handcuffed diagonally behind my back and for about 15 minutes I was suspended from the ceiling by my cuffed hands, my feet above the ground. I was asked the same questions again and again and, when I kept saying that I had come alone without anybody sending me, I was beaten very hard with a wooden stick.

Later I learned that the other five nuns were treated the same way. They were beaten with an iron rod instead of a wooden one. After the interrogation I was locked in a cell for 14 days during which time I did not see anybody apart from the guards. Only once a day I was allowed to go out of the cell to empty my “toilet” container. My arms hurt so much after the interrogation that I could not tie my kerag (waist band). In the morning I was given a rice porridge; for lunch I received two small steamed rolls and some dirty vegetables; and in the evening I got two small steamed rolls and a cup of black tea. After 14 days of solitary confinement, the six of us were sentenced. I was sentenced to three years of prison.

One day the prison authorities announced that they would take blood from the prisoners in order to check for diseases. I noticed that they were only taking blood from Tibetan political and non-political prisoners and not from any Chinese prisoners. I pleaded with the authorities not to take blood from me as I felt very weak and thought I would fall really ill if they took my blood. My friends supported me in my please and in the end I did not have to give blood. One other nun who had heart and stomach problems was also spared.

Transfer to Trisam Prison

In April 1992, I was sent to Trisam prison where the conditions were much better. The food was much cleaner and I my relatives were permitted to visit twice a month instead of once. Again I had to clean toilets inside the prison. During “re-education” sessions prisoners were asked about their views on human rights in general and about recent demonstrations. If the prisoners openly supported the demonstrators there would be a public meeting during which the prisoner would be beaten and there were instances where monks were sentenced for speaking in support of demonstration.

Religious restrictions after release

After my release on October 14, 1992 I went back to my home. I was forced to work on a  new construction site but after a