Page 2720 - Church of God Publications

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port in the Paro Valley, it had to
wind its way through the mountains.
Beneath us (and sometimes above),
little houses perched impossibly on
narrow ledges, and precipitous
slopes had been carefully terraced
into improbable rice fields. The
lndian pilot landed carefully and on
schedule, and when the little air–
plane's engine shut down, total still–
ness enveloped us. Here indeed was a
place that is different.
We were introduced to Kinley
Dorji, the man who would be our
host. He was a friend ly, educated
you ng man who spoke flawless
English.
The first two days of our visit
were spent in the Paro Valley. Paro
is one of the country's two main
centers of settlement-densely
populated by Bhutanese standards,
a quiet rural village by nearly
everybody else's. Neat little farms
dotted the floor of the valley, sur–
rounded by small fields of red rice,
wheat, corn (maize) and vegeta–
bles-especially peppers.
The people were harvesting their
grain, carefully, with hand scythes.
One woman straightened her back
and proudly showed me the fruit of
her labors-an armful of golden
wheat.
With gestures, 1 asked if 1 could
take her photograph. She beckoned
for me to come into the field, then
rebuked me sharply. 1 had acciden–
tally trodden on tbe heads of sorne
harvested wheat lying on the
ground. In Bhutan, grain is to be
respected. This harvest is the result
of months of dil igent labor. Only an
ignorant Westerner, whose daily
bread comes from a supermarket,
would tread so thoughtlessly on it.
1 apologized profusely, and her
fl ashing smile showed that 1 was
forgiven.
Not far away, her husband was
making mud bricks to repair the
farmhouse. Bhutanese houses are a
masterpiece of design-cool in sum–
mer, warm in winter-roomy and
serviceable, and yet beautifully
designed to blend with their environ–
ment. They are elaborately deco–
rated- as was nearly every building
in Bhutan- with traditional designs.
We never saw an ugly one.
1 thought of my own modest but
nevertheless complicated home in
California. It's comfortable enough
24
when everything is working well,
but bow belpless we are when it
isn't. Many so-called civi lized
people are just an extension cord
away from the Stone Age. Wbat
artificial lives we have to live!
Because real estate prices bave
skyrocketed, owning even a modest
home has become an impossible
dream for many in the industrial–
ized world. They must settle for a
few rented rooms in an apartment
block. Contact with nature is
restricted to a parakeet or bamster
in a cage, and a few plants putting
up a brave fight against pollution
on the balcony, while the changing
seasons are marked only by spring
or fall sales at the shopping mall.
1 admired this self-sufficient lit–
tle Bhutanese fami ly, as she gath–
ered their food and he built their
borne.
lf
tbey envied me, an alien
from the frantic, materialistic,
progress-mad and pleasure-crazy
world outside, they didn't show it.
Klngs and Prlests
For centuries Bhutan kept to itself
in its Himalayan hideaway. It
signed a treaty of perpetua! peace
with the British Empire-which it
renewed in 1949 with India. The
British learned to respect the tough
and independent Bhutanese.
Henry Bogle traveled to Bhutan in
1774, and gave this account of the
people. "The more 1 see of the Bbu–
tanese, the more 1 am pleased with
them. The common people are good
humored, downright, and 1 think,
thoroughly trusty ... they are the
best built race of men 1 ever saw.
"The simplicity of their manners,
their slight intercourse with strang–
ers, and strong sense of religion pre–
serve the Bhutanese from any vices
to which more polished nations are
addicted. They are strangers to false–
hood and ingratitude. That and
every other species of dishonesty, to
which the lust of money give birth,
are unknown. Murder is uncommon,
and in general the effect of anger and
not covetousness."
That is still an accurate descrip–
tion of the Bhutanese today.
In the days when Bogle visited
Bhutan, tbe country had a two-tier
system of government. Power was
shared between the Shabdrung- a
religious leader-and the Debs,
wbo managed the civil and tempo-
ral affairs. Government was admin–
istered through a chain of
dzongs,
or fortified monasteries. In time of
peace, these great buildings were a
focal point for spiritual and tempo–
ral authority. When danger threat–
ened, the dzongs became formida–
ble and impregnable fortresses .
Power was consolidated in a line
of hereditary kings in 1907, when
Sir Ugyen Wanchuk was crowned.
He died in 1926, and was suc–
ceeded by bis son, Jigme Wanchuk,
who reigned until 1952.
The third hereditary ru1er, Jigme
Dorji Wanchuk, reigned from 1952
to 1972. He was aman of clear vision
and great foresight. During his
reign, Bhutan began to edge its way
cautiously into the 20th century.
Roads were built, where before there
were only winding yak trails.
Schools and hospitals were opened,
and departments were established to
modernize farming and animal hus–
bandry. Sorne small-scale industry
was begun.
Bhutan has a major resource in its
fast flowing rivers. Two hydroelec–
tric power stations provide electric
power for the Paro Valley and the
capital, Thimphu. Bhutan is also in a
position to export surplus hydroelec–
tric power to its neighbors.
Bhuta n 's king, Jigme Singye
Wanchuk, has continued bis father's
policy of careful modernization. He
and his advisers know that if the
nation plunges headlong into mod–
ernization, the values of the tradi–
tional way of li fe would be
destroyed.
Bhutan's rulers have realized that
their country has missed three cen–
turies of progress. They have also
had the wit to see that sorne of that
progress was well wortb missing.
Foreign ai d from friends is
received with gratitude, but Bhutan
has refused to mortgage its future
with massive debt. The government
prides itself on paying all its bilis on
time.
Guardiana of Tradition
The Bhutanese have preserved
their unique form of government,
in which religious and temporal
Jeaders work together to administer
the nation's affai rs.
One morning Kinley Dorji drove
us along a winding road through
the Paro Valley to the Druk Gyel
The PLAIN TRUTH