Contratos petroleros para la exploración y explotación

Aside from my interviews with Nepali spirit-mediums, which were conducted entirely in Nepali with the aid of a translator, interviews were conducted in a mix of Tibetan and English, depending on interviewees’ and my own linguistic abilities. Conversation with the momo-la, the majority of whom spoke no English, were predominantly in Tibetan, and these were frustrating and rewarding in turn, as a result of my initially rather ‘intermediate’ language skills, which improved gradually over time.

In Darjeeling, Nepali is the majority language, and many young Tibetans

predominantly spoke Nepali. In addition, many attended private English language schools in the area, or in one of the bigger Indian cities, and had a high level of English. As a result, some formal interviews and general conversations were

conducted in English, whilst others were conducted entirely in Tibetan (occasionally with the aid of a Tibetan friend, who translated when the conversation got too fast or technical), or a mixture of the two. Several key informants frequently helped with Tibetan language, discussing possible English translations of Tibetan words and medical terms that I had heard spoken.

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This, of course, raises several points. The presence of another person undeniably alters the dynamic of an interview (whether positively or negatively), and it is likely that the translator himself adds a layer of his own interpretation to the translation and thus the interview. One such example was when a friend from south India (with similar research interests) translated for me when we met a number of local Nepali spirit-mediums together. His help was invaluable, but his manner – quite different to mine – on occasion made me slightly uncomfortable. A common question from local Nepalis present at temples when we interviewed spirit-mediums was ‘Do you

believe?’ Bearing in mind both the fact that these people were present to pay for the services of the spirit-mediums for help in some problem or illness and my own opinions on the subject, when visiting alone, I generally answered in what I felt to be both a fairly accurate representation of my thoughts on the subject, and quite a diplomatic response: ‘I’m not sure – I believe it works, and I think I believe in spirits’. I thus found it hard to listen to my friend (answering for himself, but frequently, due to the language barrier, effectively answering for both of us)

unfailingly replying ‘I believe that you believe it’, which sounded to my western ear, patronising, if not offensive. Whether any of our interviewees were offended by this I cannot definitively answer; certainly, no-one ever responded with any obvious offence, and my friend assured me that this was not considered a rude response in the local culture. However, it is a good indication of some of the complexities of

working with a translator which can, at times, lead to a feeling of being slightly out of control of the interview situation.

In addition to this, one Tibetan informant, Gyaltsen, who became a good friend – and helped me out immeasurably – held an official job in the community. Whilst this was hugely helpful for me, due to his vast array of knowledge which he was happy to share with me, on the few occasions I made use of him as a willing translator, this obviously had an effect on the interviews. Despite his informality during these encounters, because of his position, he was held in high esteem within the Tibetan community. This sometimes appeared to alter the dynamic of the interview, and when possible I conducted follow-up interviews with the interviewees to circumvent this issue. This was particularly noticeable during my initial interview with Dechen, whose condition is discussed in Chapter Eight. Here, the presence of Gyaltsen

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encouraged Dechen’s father to discuss issues related to Tibetan politics with him which came to dominate the conversation, making it very difficult to hear Dechen’s story. Interviewing her again two weeks later without a translator was much more successful, with her father leaving the two of us alone to converse in a combination of Tibetan and English, and Dechen speaking without interruption.

Moreover, translation from one language to another, of course, often brings forth as many questions as it answers. A cursory look at a couple of Tibetan dictionaries will provide an insight into the complexities of this, including some widely divergent acceptable translations of many Tibetan terms. This is especially the case with regard to Tibetan medical terms, which may have multiple meanings, may be more or less known by lay Tibetans and sometimes understood quite differently by amchi and lay Tibetans, and may be translated differently by non-Tibetans who have studied Tibetan Medicine to a greater or lesser degree. During my fieldwork I embarked on the translation a few chapters of the rGyud bZhi relating to spirit-caused mental illness. Armed with a dictionary, an online translation tool and a willing Tibetan friend, Tenzin, we spent hours over several weeks discussing possible translations of the Tibetan terms, and trying to find an acceptable way to express them in a coherent manner in English. This was not helped by the vast differences between modern spoken Tibetan and the Classical Literary Tibetan verse which the rGyud bZhi is written in. Tenzin (a student midway through his second Masters degree conducted entirely in English, and with an impressive knowledge of written Tibetan, having received his schooling in Tibetan) appeared to find it no less frustrating or difficult than I did. How do we navigate the ‘no-man’s land’ between Tibetan and English concepts which do not translate easily, and come up with acceptable translations? There is no easy answer to this question of course, only an awareness of its complexities, and a system of trial and error, which hopefully over time, will improve our understandings. I have thus included a Glossary of Tibetan Terms, which aims to further elucidate the meanings of Tibetan words commonly used in the thesis. Whilst the English translations of certain Tibetan terms related to health and illness, such as nyes pa (humour) and rtsa (channel), are commonly used by both Tibetans and non-Tibetans, I have discussed in the text where these are particularly problematic. Tibetan concepts such as these which do not easily translate into

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English – particularly those related to health and illness – can highlight important areas of divergence between these different Tibetan and biomedical systems. As I mentioned above, the concept of ‘belief’ recurred throughout my fieldwork, from Tibetan informants frequently explaining the importance of this in the efficacy of healing therapies and religious rituals, to attendees at spirit-medium rituals regularly asking me ‘Do you believe?’ My own attempts to decipher what I ‘believed’ to be going on during the rituals I witnessed was – and is – ongoing. Moreover, the concept of ‘belief’ is problematic itself, as I discuss in some detail in Chapter Seven. It is not possible within the scope of this project to surmise what might be occurring (either within or outside of the minds and bodies of the

participants) during such rituals of possession and mediumship (for an examination of this subject see Samuel 2001a), and whether or why they may or may not ‘work’, in terms of the successful management or treatment of illness. I would note only that perhaps Shanafelt’s three differing levels of ‘truth’ might (and should) bear upon this question. Here, he suggests that ‘[e]xperiences may be real, functionally important, and true at distinct levels of psychosocial analysis. ‘Truth’ at the levels of

psychological state, speech act, or social practice may have criteria of evaluation that are distinct from any ‘etic’ truth that must be based on consideration of the total preponderance of all available evidence’ (2004, p. 331).