Monisha Ahmed,
with Changpas of Ladakh
For the grass that you have just eaten, Oh goat,Give us some good pashmina.For the water that you have just drunk, Oh goat,Give us some good pashmina.Sit down on the grass and be still, Oh goat,So that we can take out your pashmina.
It was a late evening in June and Tharchen sang this song while he was busy combing pashmina out of one of his goats. It was getting dark but Tharchen combed slowly, careful not to hurt the animal. He knew that a sudden harsh yank could injure the goat, pulling at its flesh and drawing blood; such injuries can cause animals to succumb to their wounds. In a land devoid of agriculture, pashmina goats are a precious commodity for the Changpas, their fibre a major cash crop.
The Changpa live at an altitude of over 4,000 metres, moving on the Changthang plateau with their herds of yak, sheep, and pashmina goats. The Changthang is an arid, cold desert, where little grows but the Changpa maintain a delicate balance with nature, forever careful of its scare resources. Over the centuries they have evolved an indigenous and effective rangeland management system that involves regulations of their movements with available pasture.
Goats are cherished amongst the Changpas today as they are the source of a new income and their numbers have increased tremendously, but it has not always been this way. Elders remember a time when they kept far fewer goats as their pashmina was worth even less than wool! Instead, it was the pashmina from western Tibet that the market demanded. Goats were less valued animals, appearing in verbal abuses and disliked by shepherds as they walked fast and were difficult to keep up with.
But when the border with Tibet closed in the early 1960s all this changed. And while sheep continue to be important, as their fibre is needed for weaving a range of textiles, goats are the new status symbol. There are consequences to this also, amongst them a strain on pastureland, but for now the Changpas are not concerned by these.