Vivid, brisk account of a young German woman’s efforts to establish a school for the blind in Tibet.
Diagnosed with retinal disease in early childhood and completely blind by 13, the author retains visual memories that help her navigate sightlessly. Tenberken still sees colors in her mind and uses them as a mnemonic device to remember phone numbers and formulas and to visualize landscapes and her surroundings. She also has remarkable parents who have encouraged her independence and sense of adventure—at one point her mother even helped out at the school in Lhasa. Tenberken, who did graduate work in Asian studies, describes how her obsession with Tibetan manuscripts led her to devise a Tibetan Braille alphabet so that she could read texts herself. In the late 1990s, needing more freedom and tired of being reminded of her supposed limitations, she flew alone to China and then traveled by road (an exhausting experience) to Lhasa, where she was determined to found a school. There were no training facilities for blind children; if their parents were poor, they were left on the streets or alone in their rooms without any teaching, diversions, or stimulation. An accomplished horsewoman, the author recalls often hazardous journeys on horseback over some of the most mountainous terrain in the world to find pupils. She describes her efforts to raise funds, to get official Chinese permission for her school, and to find suitable premises and staff. None of it was easy, but the school eventually opened and was an instant success. Then the funding dried up due to bureaucratic bungling back in Germany, her venal landlords evicted her, and the government insisted she leave the country immediately. Though discouraged, Tenberken rallied her forces and, after a tortuous overland journey to Nepal and a visit to Germany, found ways to continue her work.
Impressive, moving, and refreshingly free of sentimentality and self-pity.