There were no trains to Tibet in 1994, so we drove to Lhasa from Qinghai. Both the van and its passengers struggled for breath as we crested the 5200-m Tangula Pass into Tibet. Today, however, Tibet not only has excellent highways but also trains, so in 2019 we decided to take the train from Qinghai to Tibet rather than drive.

I was surprised at the steady stream of traffic on the highways we passed—especially the express freight trucks that were hauling e-commerce goods both into and out of Tibet. Even villagers in China’s remotest areas now buy and sell online.

But the best part of the train trip was the people I met—especially the children. And to my delight, I shared a cabin with Mr. Wang Zenghao, a young man from Xining of Qinghai Province who had just graduated from Fujian’s Huaqiao (Overseas Chinese) University and volunteered to serve in Tibet with the Tibet Program of the West China Volunteer Project (Fig. 12.1).Footnote 1

Fig. 12.1
The image displays a conversation between Professor William Brown and young man Wang Zenghao.

Prof. William Brown interviewing young volunteer Wang Zenghao in Xining, Qinghai on July 19, 2019. Photo by Zhu Qingfu

Full size image

Since China launched the University Student Volunteer Service Program for West China in 2003, thousands of college graduates have volunteered for Tibet and over 1500 of them stayed on in Tibet to work longer term.

The program benefits not only Tibet but also the volunteers themselves, as they cultivate their character, compassion and talents, while performing grassroots service in education, health, agricultural technology and poverty alleviation. To prepare these youths, Tibet has created preferential policies and provided specialized training in high-elevation health care, Tibetan history, etc.

“Why volunteer for such a difficult place as Tibet?” I asked.

Mr. Wang smiled broadly, “I visited Tibet in the summer of 2016 and had a special encounter. When the train arrived at the Nagqu train station, I saw a Tibetan herder who thought he had bought a ticket to Lhasa but the conductor told him it was only to Dangqu. He had bought it from a ticket vendor, he was illiterate and could not speak Chinese, and the conductor told him he had to get a new ticket. This story really touched me deeply because I suspected that there were many other people like him in Tibet, and we should find ways to help them. Once I arrived in Lhasa, I took a bus that was very crowded, and after two or three stops, two Tibetan grandmothers boarded. Many people stood up to give them their seats, but they didn’t just sit down immediately. They carefully chose which seat was most convenient. And the bus driver waited patiently until everyone was again seated safely or gripping a handhold before he started off again. I was impressed by the Tibetans’ respect for the elderly and their friendliness. I also liked the colorful Tibetan costumes that people on the streets wore, and how the Tibetan grandfathers would nod and smile at me. Their optimistic attitude toward life was so appealing to me.”

“You made your decision then to help Tibet?” I asked.

“Well, I taught previously in Guizhou during two college summer vacations. Those experiences also impressed me deeply. I helped support education in a village with many ‘left behind’ children. They did not lack money, but they lacked the care of families who were working off home. I think all of us should visit such places to see what life is like for so many people.”

It’s one thing to visit Tibet but quite another to live there, and I wondered how this city boy would hold up, but it turned out he was well prepared. “During my four years of university,” he said, “I deliberately put myself in difficult situations because I wanted to develop my ability to endure hardships. I was only 20 at the time, and I felt that to only think of such things as marriage, a private car, housing, etc. was of little value. I wanted to do something meaningful, such as helping Tibet. But my teachers said it was not worth it, and even my own family did not support me—but I was determined to go.”

Once he arrived in Tibet, he was temporarily assigned to the Tibet Autonomous Region Federation of Trade Unions as a clerk, but “I wondered if they’d consider reassigning me. I hoped to go to the villages, meet face-to-face with herders and farmers, and experience the ups and downs of their lives. I wanted to go and take a look, and if possible, apply for grassroots work.”

“How long will you be in Tibet this time?” I asked.

“At least one year,” he said. “If it works out, I’d like to stay here. When I came here in 2016, I really liked Lhasa. My parents are both young now, and they don’t need me around to take care of them all day, so I want to do something meaningful when I am young.”

“When I drove to Lhasa in 1994,” I said. “It was very poor, and life was very difficult. Do you think it has improved very much since then?”

He nodded yes. “In fact, by Tibetan standards, people in Lhasa are relatively wealthy, but in some remote places, especially pastoral areas, their lives are still not very good. It is not as easy to carry out some policies in the remotest areas. I want to visit those places. In Lhasa, after all, development is very good because the state and central governments are concentrating on supporting this autonomous region capital.”

“In a place as big and inaccessible as Tibet, I’m sure it is difficult to implement policies in all areas,” I said.

“Yes, that is true,” he said. “But the country is doing its best to take care of this place. And during my two summers teaching in Guizhou, I gained a better understanding of the operation model of the teaching support team, I wanted to bring this teaching support model to Tibet. The education here is okay, but it still needs teaching support to supplement it. I want to find a suitable place to do that. This kind of support is not just to teach Chinese and mathematics during the winter and summer vacations, but a high-quality support that can help overcome some shortcomings in local education.”

I said goodbye to Mr. Wang at the Lhasa train station, but I hope to meet him again soon to see how he has fared. Even since the 1950s, China’s fight against poverty has relied on compassionate volunteers serving for years and even decades in the most remote places—people like the Xiamen University (XMU) graduate we met in Lhasa in 1994.

When Sue and I married in Taipei in 1981, the pastor gave us as a wedding present a signed copy of the book he’d written about his experiences when he rode a horse into Tibet in the 1940s. In 1989, Sue loaned that book to a Chinese student, who then loaned it to another student—and we never saw the book again! Though I did not complain, I was not happy about losing the book.

Five years later, the day after we drove into Lhasa, a young man ran up to us and said, “Are you Professor Brown? I am a XMU graduate, and I volunteered to serve here in Tibet because I read your book that a friend loaned to me!”.

Yuanfen! I was amazed—and also ashamed that I’d been upset about a book when, as it turned out, it had spurred this young man to serve in Tibet—and given the conditions in 1994 were not that good, even in Lhasa!

And, happily, when we shared this story with the book’s author, he gave us another signed copy—his last copy. I still have it to this day as a reminder of just how much Tibet’s development has depended upon courageous and compassionate young Chinese volunteers.