Tibetan knife purchased from the shop in Shangri La, Yunnan Province, PRC. 2004
Setting, elevation 11,000 ft on the Qinghai-Tibetan Plateau in Northwest
Yunnan province, People’s Republic of China. The city formerly known as
Zhongdian, now renamed Shangri-La.
I had been touring around the city for a couple of days. Visited the large
Tibetan Buddhist temple nearby. Looked into the local knife scene. My guide,
a strikingly beautiful Naxi-Tibetan half breed, had warned me of the
numerous knife fights among the local Tibetan community. Ethnic minorities
in China are given special dispensation from some rules. The Tibetans are
allowed to carry knives as a matter of course that would not be allowed for
Han Chinese. I searched out and visited a local manufacturer of knives. The
workshops were primitive and I was not allowed to go in to see the
manufacture. I could see buckets of unfinished forged blades, and a workman
working on a grinder. The knives were of decent quality, heat treated well,
and fixed with silver and horn handles and silver and wood sheaths. The most
popular models had short handles and 4-5 in blades. I bought one and had it
shipped to Beijing, as I was told that there was some trouble flying them
out of the local airport in the checked luggage.
At the airport flying out I was waiting with Danhua, (my Chinese wife) and
my two teenagers in the line to check our baggage. My SAK was stowed in the
baggage in preparation for clearing airport security. I was wearing a
waistpack (reinforced with aircraft cable) that contained our flight
tickets, passports, credit cards, and a considerable sum of Chinese and US
money. There were 4 or 5 uniformed Chinese in the airport who were not
airport security. They were some government security function which I did
not fully understand. I had been having bowel trouble and the line to check
the bags was not moving so I figured that I would take the opportunity to go
to the restroom and relieve my bowels.
As I walked across the room toward the restroom two Tibetans in long brown
coats who were standing in the middle of the room both turned and entered
the restroom about 5 seconds ahead of me. I thought this somewhat unusual,
but I foolishly went ahead and entered the restroom.
There was a washroom immediately inside the door, and then a door to the
restroom. When I entered the restroom I saw it was u shaped, with urinals on
the south and east walls, and presumably Asian style toilets hidden on the
other side of the U. One of the Tibetans had stationed himself at a urinal
at the bottom of the U, and the other one was nowhere to be seen. Although
my plan had been to use the toilets, I decided that there was no way I was
walking around the bottom of that U. I went to a urinal on the south wall
and began to relieve my bladder. Immediately after I started the man at the
urinal turned and began walking toward me. (Remember that he had entered
about 5 s before me, and had not had time to empty his bladder. He did not
seem to zip or button pants.) I figured then that I was going to have to
fight and resolved to do whatever was necessary without worrying about
stopping the flow of urine or packing away my tool. It could have been
messy. I kept eye contact with the advancing man. He walked to me and partly
behind me. I think he stopped when he realized I was going to turn and he
was going to get pissed on. Then he stopped and turned his back to me, at a
point where I could still watch him, but angled between me and the door.
This is a highly unusual position for a person to take, not just in US
culture but in any culture. Standing a couple of feet from a urinating man,
back to back, and blocking the exit, is unusual anywhere. I had a complete
adrenaline dump by this time. I realized that if he turned I needed to turn
and defend, and that if he turned he would in all probability be holding one
of the little Tibetan knives with which I had become familiar. I remember
suddenly appreciating the way my credit cards were lined up in the fanny
pack. I had never contemplated their utility in impeding a knife blade until
that moment.
I’ve gone through a lot of stuff in the past few years and all of the stuff
I used to think I had to protect is gone. My two teenagers were outside in
the airport, and they have shown themselves capable of taking care of
themselves the last few years. My new wife is quite capable of taking care
of herself. The thought of giving the two bastards in the restroom with me
what they wanted in order to survive never crossed my mind. My body was
preparing for a fight and my mental energies were focused on the patterns of
movement and the flow of energy between the people and the room.
The other fellow came out from behind the wall. Little time had passed, not
enough for someone to go through the normal process of defecation. We all
looked at each other. It was evident that if they pushed the interaction
there was going to be blood and piss and injuries, and that it was not going
to be easy for anyone. They decided to exit the restroom.
Upon reflection I think the presence of the uniformed Chinese outside the
room was a factor in their decision. If they could leave without noise or a
disruption they would have no problem, but if they were caught in the lobby
after a noisy and bloody fight in the restroom they were looking at the
possibility of swift and harsh justice from the Chinese.
When I left the restroom and returned to the line I took a minute to let my
heart slow down a little. When the body prepares to fight and then doesn’t
it takes quite a while (hours) for the adrenaline to metabolize. But the
strongest effects are in the first few minutes. The Tibetans had taken up a
position in the lobby again. After a couple of minutes I pointed them out to
Danhua and started to explain what had happened. When they saw Danhua and me
look at them they left the airport, although no flights had arrived or
departed since we came to the airport.
It did take me several hours to come down from the adrenaline rush. I was
able to empty my bowels on the other side of the security checkpoint, where
I was pretty sure most of the people (not just me) had given up their
knives.
Here is the card of the shop where I got the knife. The shop consisted of forges and grinding operations (closed to the public) on the first floor, and showrooms on the second floor.
There were some tacky factory "art knives" for sale in the showroom, as there are in the website. But there were also high-quality handmade knives from the smithy.