THE MANCHU NEWSLETTER
The first issue of the Manchu Newsletter was published in 2009. see below.
Long Winters Night (Part 1)
The Ulan Story
By: Fan Yun Tsing
I had grown up on the southern banks of the Heilongjiang River, it was not a village I grew up it but the ger. Many of the men in our group had fought many battles for the empire as I too hoped to do. My father had spent years fighting in the Turkmen region and Tibet and my mother was always very sad. When I was in my sixteenth winter of breathing an emissary came from Peking to tell our tribe that our soldiers fell in battle and that the empire was in need of the sons. We young men gathered and gathered the men from surrounding tribes. The emissary told us to meet in two weeks time in Haryan were we would be added to our banners.
I and my friends were excited because we could now be called warrior and soon heroes to our people. Within a week we had gathered a full turmen of brother and off to Haryan we rode. All of us were ready and we dreamed of the glory awaiting us. We rode our horse two days without rest because of our great excitement and then on our fifth day of travel we reached Haryan. It was a lonely place in the middle of the vast barren wastelands and upon the walls waved only one flag of deep blue silk. Then we understood that we were being place with the greatest warrior of all the Blue Banners, fear and held in awe by all under the Manchu‟s banners. But our surprise was yet to come. The Blue Banner was controlled by seven great generals of the Khitan people.
When we entered the fortress of Haryan we were greeted by one of the general, a man of grand stature, whom wielded a booming voice like a spring thunder. His name we would later learn was Kwu Khai Yongur the second highest general in the Blue Banner. He told us to dismount and to wash up then to move our thing, what few we had to the barracks and to get some rest for the next day we would be assigned to our groups.
That night many of us could not sleep as we watch the veterans move back and forth. Also that night we witnessed the grandest sight. Nearing the hour of the tiger the fortress gates opened and let enter 20 riders dressed in black. When they entered everything had gone silent in Haryan, it was like everything was frozen and moving in slow motions.
The next morning we were lined up and told which corp we were being placed in, I was the last to be chosen. Most had gone to light cavalry. The officer told me I had been chosen for the Dakhar and that I and them were leaving tonight for the Yanyu (Sayan) Mountains. Thus I would become more than a Warrior I was going to become the demon wolf of the Manchu people. A black robed rider.
(To be continued)
Manchu in Hong Kong (Part 1)
By: Scarlette Sheung
I have always been looking for people who I can share my feelings about Manchuria with. I know I found the right people to talk to when I met Dino, Yuri and Linda on facebook via a Manchurian group. We are all Manchurians, although we live in different parts of the world, we are united through a common goal – the four of us (I am sure more will follow) care about our brothers and sisters who are living under the Chinese Communist rule, in very poor environments and in some cases, as second class citizens.
I was born in Hong Kong, where I had my early elementary education before moving on to a boarding school in the United Kingdom. While I was in Hong Kong (I still return home for my school holidays, my family‟s based there), I live among those who despise and undermine the Manchurian people. I attended history classes that taught distorted history where Manchurians are described as "Barbarians" or in some cases "Dogs" and the Manchu Qing dynasty did nothing but harm to the overall development of China. TV series often portray Manchus as the „ultimate baddies‟, and Manchus are often referred as "Mun Kao" meaning "Manchu Dogs" or "Qing Kao" meaning "Qing Dogs".
Then a question sprang up to my mind – "Why the Manchurians are always the baddies?"
When I asked this question about 12 years ago, I didn‟t know I was indeed a White Banner Manchu until my parents told me, "We are Manchurians, descendents of the White Banner. History is history and let‟s not bother about it, the TV is making Manchurian the baddies because it adds more interest to it. But we are living in Hong Kong and we are „Hongkongers‟, let‟s not worry about this Manchu issue so much."
Then the question became – "Why are we always portrayed as the baddies?"
I didn‟t really try to find a resolution to this question until I reached 12 when the Hong Kong curriculum said I had to do a subject called „Chinese History‟. I read the chapters about Manchurians out of interest and what I read was disturbing, my first thought was – oh god this book is so biased! I then tried researching on my spare time and found some other materials online. I spent some time reading them as a hobby. I tried to engage my dad into a meaningful discussion about our Manchu identity but he kept on saying "Let‟s no worry about it! Get on with life and spend your time wisely on school work!" Obliviously this failed and I continued my own spare time activity.
Then the real time came when the Tibet issue was widely spread in the news early 2008, months before the Peking Olympics. What I saw at that time was Tibetans being treated like second class citizens on their own land where the Han Chinese had annexed into. I was outraged; I feel shame for being "Chinese" (I am classified as Chinese in school). Then I looked at materials about life in Manchuria.
In the Beginning (Khitan Legend)
Unknown
Translated by: Kavajecz Yurhak
In the beginning all were called people and this is how our people came to be. Near the waters of the god Baigal live the Nui (Wolf) people and their chief was the strongest wolf named Balsul. Over the years Balsul had led his great people against the other people of the Bear and Fox. But even a great warrior tires and becomes lonely. Then in the year of the red moon Balsul entered the great Taiga seeking solace when he met a radiant young woman. When their eyes met they fell in love but they also knew the painful truth that they could never be joined in their current forms. For Balsul was nothing more than a wolf and this beautiful woman was the daughter of the great Baigal.
They would meet during the dark moon deep inside the Taiga were they knew that only the god Taiga would hear. You see Taiga is the god of secrets. But as time went on the two grew deeper and deeper into love. Until one day Balsul could stand it no longer and went to the shore of Baigal‟s waters. There for three days and three night Balsul begged for Baigal‟s daughter.
On the third night Baigal appeared to Balsul and said this, "what would you do for my daughter, what will you give?" Balsul returned, "my life and my people." Baigal replied, "in two moons time go to the peak of Atai there we shall speak once more."
Later in that day Baigal approached his daughter, "my flower do you truly love Balsul the wolf?" "I do father and would give anything to be united with him." She cried. "You would give up your godhood?" Baigal asks. "Yes and with no regret. How can I live if the one I love would die?" "My daughter in two moon go to Ulgens home on the peak of Atai."
Upon the second moon both the daughter and Balsul reached the peak of Atai were the gods Ulgen, Umai, Erlik, Baigal, and Taiga were gathered. Baigal takes his daughter in hand and kisses her upon the cheek then turns to Balsul and says, "she is yours treat her right for should you harm her Ulgen with his arrows shall strike you down, Umai will never allow your rebirth and Erlik will damn you in the underworld." "Yes I will." Balsul humbly states. At that the gods disappear and the daughter is left with her husband.
As in the ways of this marriage between gods and mortal as the moons passes its first night the change to join is to happen. But in this case it happened not for the next morning the daughter was a beautiful human woman but Balsul was still a wolf. The now daughter of Balsul ran crying to her father‟s holy water were her tears became our Holy River. Her sorrows would be heard by Grandfather Raven. Grandfather Raven is the god of shape-shifter but he would not take action yet for now was not yet the time.
Part 2 will be printed in the next issue.
The Northern Manchu
By: Kavajecz Yhebira (Yuri)
I remember growing up as a nomad between Chita and Irkutsk Russia. My family always spoke of the Manchu way and how we were from a great clan the Niuhuru (Wolf Clan). The stories my grandfather and uncles would tell would mesmerize me and keep me in awe. Many days while riding with the herds I would imagine myself as one of these long lost warrior. But there was a story my grandfather told that would frighten me. The story was about a Shaman who had been killed by himself, not suicide but who was two person and one rising his bow and firing. The arrow not seen until it impacted and killed. I was afraid but I always comforted myself by knowing my grandfather was a very powerful Shaman. But every time my grandfather would tell the story he would add in more detail of how the Shaman of his story was tattooed and what types of tattoos he bore. Grandfather also explained how these types of Shamans were the Emperor‟s Shamans and warrior. They were black Shamans follows of the Underworld god Erlik Khan.
Then on night my dreams worked and I was taken back to a older time. There was dance and music. The camps were overjoyed with the spring and the babies of livestock being born. As I walked in this dream I found a raven feather in the path in which I was walking, so many colors and so beautiful. I bent to pick it up and as my fingers touched the feather a man appeared before me with his body tattooed and to me he said only one word, "Dakhar." When I woke I found my grandfather standing over me and my grandmother putting cold wet towel on my forehead. I tried to speak but my voice was gone but my grandfather nodded to me telling me he knew. One of my uncle was making Shang (Ginseng) tea and gave it to me to drink. Again I fell into the world of dreams, where I was riding alone across the steppes. As the sun reached its zenith I looked to my right to see another rider dressed like me. He raised his bow a fired. I saw no arrow but I felt in enter and fell from my horse. The rider approached and then I seen my face. I killed myself, when I died I woke up and I understood my grandfather‟s story. To live I must died and be reborn. My grandfather then whispered to me, "rest boy for you are the last of the Dakhar. You will be alone, but will hold our people spirit in your hands." My grandfather would die two years later. This Newsletter and the work I do is in his honor. May he be drinking with the gods.
Manchu Words
Gurun = country
Gisun= language
Bithe = script
Mangga = difficult
Niyalma = person
Inu = also
Gemu = all
Ulhimbi = understand
Sarku = not know
Gisurenbi = speak
Dahame = because
Special Thanks to Fan Yun Tsing, Scarlette Sheung and my cousin Yurhak for their articles. Also a great thanks to Kwu Khai Jinlong (Dino) for the pictures and Micheal Han.
Beautiful Manchuria
