Published by: World Tibet Network News Thursday - September 11, 1997

House Committee on International Relations Hearing on Religious Persecution, September 10, 1997

My name is Tsultrim Dolma. I am 28 years old. I am one of the one thousand Tibetan refugees who came to the United States through the Tibetan Resettlement Program, authorized by the United States Congress in 1991.

I never imagined that I would someday testify this esteemed gathering. Now that I am here, I feel it is both a privilege and responsibility to tell you about my experiences -- among the thousands of Tibetans who flee into exile, very few have their stories heard.

I am not an educated person. I don't know about politics. But I do know what it is to live under Chinese rule. And I know, although I was born after the Chinese came into Tibet, that Tibet is different than China.

I have asked my friend Dorje Dolma to read my testimony because my English is not very good. The Chinese government has publicized that there is freedom of religion in Tibet, but in fact, the genuine pursuit of our religion is a forbidden freedom. So many difficult restrictions are placed on those entering monastic life, and spies are planted everywhere. My experience will enable you to decide for yourself whether or not there is religious freedom in Tibet.

(Pause for awhile)

I was born in Pelbar Dzong, in eastern Tibet, near Chamdo. Prior to the Chinese invasion in 1949 Chamdo was the easternmost administrative center of the Dalai Lama's government.

As a child my only ambition in life was to become a nun and to undertake religious education. However, there was no way I could pursue my studies in my village because the only nunnery there had been completely destroyed by the Chinese forces. Therefore, I took my nun's vow in my home, at age 17 and, soon after, left for Lhasa, the capital and spiritual center of Tibet, which is around a month's journey from my home. Once there, I was able to join the Chupsang nunnery on the outskirts of the city.

Within a year of my joining Chupsang, I could the tension due to the large differences between the Tibetans and Chinese living around Lhasa. On October 1, 1987, China's National Day, I experienced at first hand the consequences of that tension.

On that day, monks from Sera and Nechung Monasteries peacefully demonstrated in Lhasa for the release of fellow Tibetans who had been arrested when they protested, in September, China's denunciation of H.H.the Dalai Lama for proposing the Five Point Peace Plan. Hundreds of Tibetans gathered around in support. Chinese police moved through the crowd videotaping demonstrators. Then, unexpectedly, opened fire on the crowd. The Tibetans responded by throwing stones at the cameras. A number of monks were arrested and dragged to the Police Station.

I joined a large group of Tibetans who immediately converged on the station calling for the release of the arrested monks. We heard gun shots from the rooftopand realised that the police were firing down into the crowd. Many Tibetans were killed and several more badly injured. Outraged at the massacre, some Tibetans set fire to the building. I watched as Venerable Jampa Tenzin, the caretaker of the Jokhang Temple, led a charge into the building to try to free the monks. When he emerged about ten minutes later, his arms were badly burned and had long pieces of skin peeling off. Subsequently, Jampa Tenzin was arrested and detained at Sangyip Prison where he is known to have been tortured.

The Great Monlam Prayer Festival which occurred in March 1988 was the next occasion for a major protest. Chinese authorities had invited journalists from many different countries to film the ceremony as an example of religious freedom in Tibet. The monks of Sera, Drepung, Ganden and Nechung decided to boycott the ceremony, but were forced to attend at gun point.

Under guard, the monks made the traditional circumambulation around the Jokhang, Lhasa's central cathedral. After completing the ceremony, those monks joined together demanding the release of the highly revered incarnate lama, Yulo Dawa Tsering, who had been arrested some months before and of whom nothing had been heard. Security officials immediately fired at the demonstrators, killing one Tibetan. A riot ensued and the army proceeded to fire into the crowd. Soldiers chased a large number of monks into the Jokhang and clubbed 30 of them to death. Eighteen lay Tibetans were also killed in the cathedral. Twelve other monks were shot. Two monks were strangled to death, and an additional eight lay Tibetans were killed outside the cathedral. The news of the deaths spread throughout the city.

After we saw the terror and turmoil in the streets, some of us nuns from my nunnery decided to demonstrate in order to support the monks who had been arrested. On April 16, about six weeks after the massacre during Monlam, four of us demonstrated in the Barkhor in Lhasa for their release.We were joined by two nuns from Gari nunnery. As were demonstrating, eight Chinese soldiers came and grabbed us. Two soldiers took me roughly by the arms, twisting my hands behind by back. Two of the nuns, Tenzin Wangmo and Gyaltsen Lochoe, were put in a Chinese police jeep and driven away. The rest of us were thrown into a truck and taken to the main section of Gutsa prison, about three miles east of Lhasa.

When we arrived, we were separated and taken into various rooms. I was pushed into a room where one male and one female guard were waiting. They removed the belt which held my nuns robe and it fell down as they searched by pockets. While I was searched, the guards slapped me hard repeatedly and yanked roughly on my nose and ears.

After the search, I was led outside to another building where two different male and female guards waited to begin the interrogation. "What did you say in the Barkhor? Why did you say it?" The cell contained a variety of torture mplements: lok-gyug, electric cattle prods, and metal rods. I was kicked and fiercely beaten as I was interrogated until mid-day, and then pulled to my feet and taken to the prison courtyard where I saw the other three nuns from my nunnery.

We were made to stand in four directions. I was near the door so that every Chinese soldier who passed by would kick me in passing. Our hands were uncuffed and we were told to stand with our hands against the wall as six policemen took each one in turn, held us down and beat us with electric prods and a small, broken chair and kicked us. Gyaltsen Lochoe was kicked in the face. I was kicked in the chest so hard that I could hardly breath. We were told to raise our hands in the air, but it was not possible to stay in that position and we kept falling down. As soon as I fell, someone would come and force me up.

We were constantly questioned. All during the interrogation, we were not allowed to fasten our belts and so our robes kept slipping off. We would constantly try to lift them up and adjust them. We were repeatedly kicked and beaten. We were told, "The Americans are helping you! Where are they now? They will never help you! Because you have opposed communism, you are going to die!"

After some hours, a large dog with pointed ears and black and white spots was brought in, led on a heavy chain. The police tried to force us to run, but we simply did not have the strength. The dog looked at us with interest, but did not approach.

Finally, as sunset approached, we were handcuffed and taken into a building. Here and there were small groups of Chinese soldiers on both sides of the corridor. As we passed, we were punched and kicked, slapped and pulled hard by the ears. I was put in a cell, measuring five feet by five feet, which was empty except for a slop basin and small bucket. That night, I quickly passed out on the cold cement floor.

The following morning, I was taken to a room where three police were seated behind a table. On its surface was an assortment of rifles, electric prods and iron rods. One of them asked me "Why did you demonstrate? Why are you asking yourself for torture and beatings?" My knees began to shake. I told them: "Many monks, nuns and lay people have been arrested, but we know Tibet belongs to the Tibetans. You say there is freedom of religion, but there is no genuine freedom!" My answer angered them and the three got up from behind the table, picking up various implements. One picked up an electric rod and hit me with it. I fell down.

They shouted at me to stand, but I couldn't and so one pulled up my robe and the other man inserted the instrument into my vagina. The shock and the pain were horrible. He repeated this action several times and also struck other parts of my body. Later the others made me stand and hit me with sticks and kicked me. Several times I fell to the floor. They would then force the prod inside of me and pull me up to repeat the beatings.

I was put under this sort of torture for more than four months. Initially I was afraid but as time went by and I thought about the monks, and other men and women who were imprisoned, many of whom had families to worry about, I began to realize I had nothing to lose. My parents could lead their lives by themselves. Sitting in my cell, I would remind myself that I was there because I had spoken on behalf of the people of Tibet and I felt proud that I had accomplished a goal and was able to say what I thought was right.

In Gutsa prison in the summer of 1988, there were all together about 32 nuns and lay women. All the women were kept in the ward for political prisoners. During that time, one of the nuns, Sonam Chodon, was sexually molested.

I was released in late summer of 1988. Fifteen days after my release some of us nuns were approached by a British journalist who was secretly making a documentary in Tibet. We all felt to appear in the interview without hiding our faces was the best way to bring attention to the Tibetan issue. The ultimate truth would soon be known so there was no need to hide. We had truth as our defense.

By then we had been formally expelled from Chupsang Nunnery by the Chinese

authorities and sent back to our villages. We were not allowed to wear nuns robes and were forbidden to take part in religious activities. We were not allowed to talk freely with other villagers. I was forced to attend nightly re-education meetings during which the topic of conversation often came around to me as "a member of the small splittist Dalai clique which is trying to separate the motherland." I was so depressed and confused.

I never told my parents what had happened in prison. When word came of the British documentary in which I took part, everyone began to discuss it. Most Tibetans thought I was quite brave, but some collaborators insulted me. It soon seemed as if arrest was imminent. I began to fear for my parent's safety and so decided to appeal again to Chupsang nunnery for re-admission, as I felt that was the safest place.

Arriving in Chupsang, I was denied re-admission. I also found a Chinese police office had been set up at the nunnery and realized that the police there would arrest me if I stayed. Greatly discouraged, I set out to make my way back to Lhasa.

Just below our nunnery is a Chinese police compound. As I passed it, I saw three Chinese soldiers on bicycles. They followed me a short distance before I was stopped. One of them took off his coat and shirt and then tied the shirt around my face, and shoved the sleeves in my mouth to stop me from crying and yelling. I was raped by the three on the outer boundary of the compound. After doing that bad thing to me, they just ran away.

Even as I was in a state of shock and remained in Lhasa for two months under the care of local Tibetans, the release of the British documentary which contained my interview caused an uproar with the Chinese authorities. I now had to live under constant fear of being rearrested. Even if I could stay, there was no way I could continue my lifelong dream of being a nun. Because I was raped, I could no longer be a nun. I had been spoiled. The trunk of our religious vows is to have a pure life. When that was destroyed, I cannot be with other nuns who were really very pure. Thus, I began to think of His Holiness the Dalai Lama in India. At that time, I didn't know there were so many other Tibetans living there as well, but I thought if only I could reach him, if I could only once see his face..." he would provide me with a solution.

Another nun and I found out that some Tibetan nomads were taking medicines in a truck to the remote areas in Western Tibet, bordering Nepal. We got a ride. From there we joined a group of 15 Tibetans to travel to the Nepalese border. In December 1990, I reached Dharamsala, the headquarters of the Tibetan Government-in-Exile.

When I first met His Holiness, I could not stop crying. He asked, "Where do you want to go? Do you want to go to school?" He patted my face gently. I could not say anything. I could only cry as I felt the reality of his presence. It was not a dream. In Tibet so many long to see him. At the same time, I felt an overwhelming sadness.

I have been asked by esteemed persons such as yourselves what makes Tibetan nuns, many very young, so brave in their support of the Tibetan cause. I say that it is from seeing the suffering of our people. What I did was just a small thing. As a nun, I sacrificed my family and the worldly life, so for a real practitioner it doesn't matter if you die for the cause of truth. His Holiness the Dalai Lama teaches us to be patient, tolerant and compassionate. Tibetans believe in the law of Karma, cause and effect. In order to do something to try to stop the cycle of bad effect, we try to raise our voices on behalf of the just cause of Tibet. Thank you.