The Snow Leopard

by Peter Matthiessen

The man with bold earrings and moustache who offered us butter is named Tundu, and his companion is a youth named Tasi Fintso. Helped by Namu and Tasi Fintso, he loads yak meat and potatoes on the four remaining yaks and dzos that stand hobbled in front of the gompa. With their short noses and short fluffy tails, yaks have an appealing air, but they are shaggy brutes of a half-ton or better, with rude temperaments to match. Tasi Fintso is gingerly in their presence, but Tundu is firm and gentle with the balky animals, talking to them in a soft-no-nonsense way as he straps on pack saddles of wood and leather, hoists cargo sacks of striped brown-and-white homespun, and lashes down the lot with braided rope. There is a quiet in his actions that gives him a strong presence, and apparently he is the headman here: he will bring the key to the gompa in five days or so, when he comes back from Saldang. Without a word, he leads his yaks away into the east, leaving behind his little girl, Chiring Doma, who sits on a blanket with Nyima Poti, eating potatoes in the sun. The gompa yard is windy and cold, yet Nyima Poti is naked, while her brother, Karma Chambel, is clad in a rag smock. In her dust and burlap, the red-cheeked Chiring Doma looks like a smiling potato given life. Once Tundu is gone, Namu resumes her work of spreading yak-dung fuel to dry along the prayer walls and abandoned houses.