Women appear to be playing a role in the local economy -- you see shoeshine girls and women cab drivers, and beauty parlours are their exclusive domain. Typically, shop owners tended to be Chinese and the staff, largely Tibetan. Chewing gum is a trademark; an enigmatic giggle no matter what is asked is almost a national characteristic.
Our attempts to engage local shopkeepers in the downtown area in conversation meet with a mixed response. Most of them are afraid to talk at any length; the few who do, once the ice is broken, are uniformly uncomplimentary about the Chinese.
One driver, red-faced with rage, showed me his license -- which was entirely in Chinese. For any official dealings, Chinese is a must, and the Tibetans hate it. They clearly believe language is the most lethal weapon for subjugating minds. Interesting, English is not in common currency, even the angry cabbie communicated via a mix of Tibetan, Chinese and evocative hand gestures and facial expressions.
A Tibetan owner of an Internet cafe opened up to us. He apparently figured that as Indians, we could be trusted with his angst. He spoke, in suitably hushed tones, of the Dalai Lama, and of how Potala, the palace on the eponymous mountain that was formerly home to the Dalai Lama, had lost its religious significance after the Chinese took over.
The Han Chinese are present in large numbers, and own most of the businesses. They settled here in large numbers ostensibly to provide good government and to improve the economy. Locals however see the large-scale settlement as a Chinese ploy to swamp, overwhelm the local population and deprive them of their unique identity.
Image: A view of Lhasa market
Also see: Tibetan ire rages as dragon spits fire
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