Dr. Susie J. Rijnhart, a spunky Victorian-era Canadian
missionary, spends a few years (1895-1899) in Tibet, being spectacularly
unsuccessful in converting the heathen and complaining about Tibetan
hygiene. Still, her notes on Central
Asian lifeways and record of political unrest make interesting reading. Her recollections of her baby boy, who is
born and dies in Tibet and is buried in an unmarked grave, are tender, as are
her memories of her husband, a displaced Dutch ne’er-do-well who was,
apparently unknown to her, on the run from a rape charge.
Rijnhart’s frank notes on Tibetan culture are in decided
contrast to Blavatsky’s fanciful Theosophical view of the plateau as the abode
of floating lamas bathed in eternal celestial light. You can almost smell the rancid butter that
is generously offered to her by poor villagers at every turn and which she, to
her credit, graciously accepts. On an ill-fated attempt to reach Lhasa, her
small expedition is turned back and, abandoned by her guides, she and her
husband are beset by bandits. He goes
off to reconnoiter and is never seen again.
Whether he is killed by the bandits or simply decided that this was a
good opportunity to skedaddle is never established, but he was never heard from
again. Desperate, she puts her fate in
the hand of some decidedly unsavory characters and, in veiled Victorian
language, describes her stressful efforts to evade sexual assault (the pistol
comes in handy) as she attempts to reach some outpost of civilization.
She eventually did reach safety and, after a period of
recuperation, returned to China a few years later to continue her missionary
work. She remarried (another missionary) and bore another son: she died soon
after childbirth, in 1908. In this
adventurous memoir, she shows immense fortitude, bravery and compassion for the
people she encounters, despite her biases against Lamaism, the Tibetan
world-view, and disregard of basic hygiene.
My copy is the 1902 edition published by the Fleming H. Revel Company,
via the Bible School Library of the Congregational Church in Binghamton, New
York. My copy warns that “This book is on loan to you – it is not yours!” I
suppose that, in the broad scheme of things, this is quite true.
