The First Monpa Day Festival
Dec. 10, 2019
by Dawn Alexandra Murray, M.S., Ph.D.
We arrived in a small van around 4:30 pm up the windy, forested dirt road the afternoon before the festival. A decorated and painted yellow arch with the seven lucky symbols was gracing the roadway, eleven young boys in ghos and plastic slip-on shoes still laying out pine needles on the dirt road for our welcome. The van could not squeeze through the arch, even with the mirrors folded in, so we parked and embarked on our journey from there, bowing and greeting the boys on the side.
On the drive from Bumthang to Trongsa we crossed the Yutong La (la here meaning pass) of 11,300 feet and yelled our, “Hagelo” three times to pacify the demons as we summited the peak. The road has been paved since I visited last four years ago, making the journey faster by several hours. From the major town in Trongsa, I noticed the first of three banners announcing Monpa Day, welcoming people to join in the celebrations, and naming Tribal Trust, Tarayana, and x as sponsors. There were three large canvas tents set up in the field below the school and green mesh fencing held up with sticks designating the different areas for the next day’s festivities – a food stand, crafts for sale, items foraged from the forest, and the dancing celebration main stage. The entrance to the main area was a path lined with pine needles on the ground and tall tree branches with foliage on top to mark the formal entrance. Tarayana Foundation staff had been here for a few days already setting up the next day’s events.
We had seen a troop of majestic golden langurs on the way up playing, jumping and relaxing in the broad-leaved trees. The golden langur is one of the most endangered primate species and they live only in western Assam, India and the neighboring Black mountains of Bhutan. The troop was a group of about 10 individuals foraging in the tree tops overlooking the beautiful valley and river below. They were a beautiful cream color with a dark face and fluffy tail, thicker at the tip then at the base, and the tail is longer than their whole body.
We walked along the dirt path about 20 minutes from where the cars park to the Jangbi’s Monpa community main area. The sun was going down over the chirr or blue pine forest and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. The tops of the mountains were glowing in the distance as the sun still shone brightly on the peaks. I could see towers along the far mountains coming down the hillside with power lines connecting them. Since I had visited last, the village has electricity now. The banana trees all looked very healthy broad waxy leaves darker on the side facing the sky and lighter on the bottom.
We were welcomed with Monpa people singing and dancing, toasts of crystal clear, warm ara, made from fermented or distilled high-altitude barley (or rice or wheat), legally produced and consumed privately – I have not seen it for sale in stores. We were given bowls of bananas and oranges, rice and fresh eggs and homemade ara in Black Mountain Whiskey plastic bottles. They welcomed us into their village and homeland and Karma la translated that a beautiful message from them that now we have danced and sang and drank together, their house is our house and we are welcome to feel free here. We sat under the round awning in camp chairs with tables that had white table cloths covered in a light brown plaid sipping on warm tea with snacks of popcorn and crackers. We were shown our orange low tents placed beautifully in the rice fields that had already been harvested, paid with carpets in the entryway and the whole area was covered in pine needles so when you walked, you absorbed the beautiful smell of the trees. The bathrooms on either end of camp were a stand-up tent with a toilet seat raised on a stool bottom and a hole dug deep in the earth below. Once you went, you used the toilet paper waiting for you on a stick perfectly placed in the corner of the tent and then buried it all with the spade and sandy dirt on the other side. My hope was that this hole was deep enough so that when the tilled the field next, it would not be dug up until it had time to decompose. As the sun set over the high peaks behind us, the tops of the mountains in front of us turned a beautiful pink and the almost full moon started to rise.
As darkness set upon the village, we ate dinner in the round center pavilion with wild red poinsettia trees surrounding us as more and more Monpa families came to sit around the roaring fire to stay warm. The fire was blazing in a 3-foot-deep pit with a diameter of at least six feet, many people could feel the warmth of the fire. We then got organized to serve the sixty to seventy people who showed up to eat a warm meal, a thank you to the community for welcoming us. Enormous metal bowls came out from the kitchen. It took two men to carry each full bowl, walking awkwardly holding the side handles. First, we distributed red rice, a hearty and flavorful variety probably from the local area, into small bows, plastic bags, cloth sheets, and cups – anything they had brought to transport and hold food. Then there was a green vegetable soup and a meat dish with potatoes and red chilis. We went around to give seconds and then joined by the fire as people ate and spoke to each other.
As the Monpa with young children started leaving about 40 minutes later another group started dancing and singing. We were brought hot drink tea and coffee and also a sweet and tangy Dragon Warmer, a warm alcoholic beverage. We soon joined in the line dancing and learning the songs people were sharing with us. At one point we were asked to sing and dance something from our culture – with laughing stares we thought and thought and I recall doing row your boat and maybe YMCA to much happiness of the Monpa. At some point we all retired to the tents to discover warm water bottles in our sleeping bags and lovely padding underneath us. We were lulled to sleep by the people in the house closest to us singing, laughing and telling stories – obviously friends and family who have come to visit to witness the first ever Monpa Day.
We woke to hot water outside our tents and coffee/tea being offered to us. At the pavilion we had eggs, rice and tea/coffee. We were led to the head tent in the front and I was introduced to the front row of men – the head of the cup (neighborhood), the superintendent of the Trongsa Police, the head monk of Trongsa, the Deputy Governor Karma Bhandup, Gyem Dorji (member of Parliament), joint managing director of the hydropower plant. The grey-haired shaman from my last visit does a small ceremony in the far-right corner of the festival arena. He has a wreath of artemisia on and a small fire going he has made. He is singing and banging on a drum and white smoke is rising up around him. People are also leaving cash with him as he chants. Offerings to us of tea, coffee, butter tea, crackers, rice, and more keep coming out to us. Karma la addressed the crowd in Dzongkha and English – for our benefit – talking about the Tribal Trust and Yangphel partnering with the Tarayana Foundation and the Folk Heritage Museum, along with the Tourism Council of Bhutan, bringing this auspicious celebration of Monpa culture to Jangbi. He mentioned that TTF or TT as they call us there, has been traveling to Bhutan and Monpas land for 6 years laying the groundwork and forging the collaborations for this day to happen. This community was the first indigenous group of Bhutan and they all feel privileged to have us there with hopes that TT continues to look after the interests of all the other indigenous people. The Chief Abbott of Trongsa Dunlop expressed appreciation for this wonderful day. Then the Governor addressed the crowd in Dzongkha (the national language of Bhutan dzongkha – dzong means place and kha is language) talking about how to live in the 21st century (ask Karma la what he said).
Fourteen Monpa men and women came out and danced and sang in the nettlecloth full kiras and ghos. A group of the young children from the local school danced in white sheets – we need to raise money for nettlecloth for them. There are three Monpa villages, one an hour away by foot and the other xx away. A teacher from the school spoke about a writing competition to have the children write about their aspirations and the teacher announced the winners from 4th, 5th and 6th grade, who came up to the podium for a wrapped gift and a photo together. The Monpa then did another dance and song about planting crops and sowing seeds.
We then all got up and walked to a grouping of houses on a terrace over and slightly above where we were having the festival where there were demonstrations staged. The first was a woman sitting cross legged in front of two large rocks that fit perfectly together creating a flat surface (like a hamburger bun) where grains could be put in a hole at the top and spun with a small piece of wood in her hand. The husks would come out the sides and in between the rocks the fine flour would gather. The next woman had a metal stick with etched lines on it and a weight, showing how she weighed her butter or cheese, which was wrapped beautifully in banana leaves. The back-strap loom was set up with nettlecloth being woven by possibly the last woman who knows how to – I know her name written somewhere – and she is willing to teach people. Then the tall circular case that holds milk and your raise and lower the poll to make butter. Then the popped rice that is just one grain popped – similar to what we have had in tea. There is a woman making ara with a pan full of liquid on top of a big pot on a fire and a woman making an earthen clay pot bending over on top of a tree stump and rotating around it so curve the shape into it. A Monpa man is wearing a woven flat-topped hat but not demonstrating how to make them. We walk back to the tents and the Governor and another head man are sitting on a small carpet in the shade with Ap Tawla talking. Over at the booths there are baskets for sale, hats, bamboo cups, a man with a collection of several roots and shoots and tubers that he has foraged for in the forest. A strange mushroom and some fungus look like they have been harvested off the side of tree trunk. There is some food for sale and we are told it is lunch time. As honorable guests, we cut to the front of the line, unwillingly, and get some of the rice and vegetables but most of the dishes have chili.
Bringing the food with us to our seats, we relax in the shade and the first bite of the rice and a little spice make me realize it will all be too spicy. Just then, some Yangphel staff bring several metal containers of food they prepared, with the proper spices. After lunch, tea and crackers, with the wind picking up and some darker clouds rolling in, we hiked 20-25 minutes up the hill above the school and reach the site of the afternoon activities – watching a plowing with ox demonstration, a woman sitting on a woven matt, two people with long poles taking turns to crush grain (which one la?) in a tall wooden stump, then a hunting demonstrating with two men setting up a bow and arrow hidden in bushes to ambush prey was triggered and shot at a tree. After that, we walked down the slope to the Monpa Museum they are starting. A small one-story building on a ledge overlooking the beautiful valley and rice fields below. You can still see the mud that makes up some of the walls and what looks like blue and red electrical cords hanging on the side of the building. Inside there were examples of many baskets the Monpa make for sifting grain, storing food, carrying items, and matts to sit on. The side of the building is very black with soot. After touring the museum, we walked back down to the festival set up for tea and soon after starting dancing and singing together in a very large circle of people – Monpa in the nettlecloth, the dignitaries, and all of the students and guides. We danced for two songs and then said our goodbyes. The day was clouding up and starting to get cold.
We gathered at the fire at the pavilion to talk about the events and what everyone had learned about the Monpa culture. Mon means mountains or dark and pas is people.