ABSTRACT
I Had a two-fold object in staying at Solé. In the first place I wanted to dry and pack the seeds collected since leaving Modung; in the second place I wished to try and collect seeds of the dwarf Iris which I had failed to get at Modung. I soon satisfied myself that all the Iris capsules were empty. Nevertheless, I believed that with patience I might find the seeds scattered in the earth close to the plants, wherever they grew thickly. And so it proved. On bare dusty slopes facing south I managed to pick up a few hundred seeds. It was slow work, but by devoting two hours a day to it, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, lying full length and going through the dust and debris carefully, my efforts were crowned with success. Such is intensive seed collecting! The day after my arrival the headman of Modung came to see me. He presented me with a short Tibetan sword, or dagger, in a metal sheath, and a chunk of yak meat, so palpably noisome that I had to heave it out of the window. Another visitor was the widow of the late Governor of Zayul. She, however, had not come from Rima just to see me; she was out on a financial tour, collecting the interest on agricultural loans issued by her late husband. In the rather bulky clothes of the rich Tibetan woman, wearing a striped apron, and a little fur-lined cap perched on her head, she looked almost chic. She was a merry widow; though her debtors probably did not think so. She called on me, preceded by her servant bearing two half bricks of Chinese sugar and some walnuts, ‘sent with a scarf’. She went about with an armed escort. This orderly possessed a Mauser rifle; for the wily widow had great possessions. However, he regarded his weapon as an encumbrance rather than an asset, and left it behind at my house. Tsumbi was much concerned, no doubt for the widow, and asked me if he should ride after the escort and return the rifle; but I said no, if he needed it he could come back for it. I had already observed that he had no ammunition. The headman of Solé in whose house I stayed was an enormously fat man with a rubicund, even vinous complexion. I never saw him do a hand's turn of work. All day he hung about his veranda, leaning over the rail, telling his beads and muttering prayers. Occasionally he waddled as far as the village shrine, and sat there in the sun, talking to the oldest inhabitant. But he was very rich. He had the dirtiest house, the greediest pigs, the mangiest dogs, the leanest cattle, and the most underfed serfs of any headman in the valley. His serfs, a pleasant looking girl, a crone, and a scarecrow of a man averaged fifty-six to fifty-eight inches high. They were always up before daylight, when a slight frost lay on the ground. Often they were at work by the light of a pine torch at ten o'clock at night. It is no exaggeration to say that they worked eighty hours a week. Their thin clothes were in rags, they slept in kennels. Tired, hungry and cold, they lay down on the wooden floor by a feeble fire, and I could hear them talking and laughing till far into the night. One by one they drop off. The fire goes out. They awake, shivering; dawn is breaking, another day's work begins.
