谷运龙《羊》

The Qiang people are bound as humble servants to the sheep. For millennia, stretching back ten thousand years or more, we have domesticated these creatures, elevating them to the status of our masters, totems, and deities. In grand sacrificial ceremonies, we present them as offerings to the gods of mountains, rivers, trees, and the heavens. Just as parents nurture their children only to see them offer sacrifices for their offspring, we have raised sheep to be both our sustenance and sacrifice. In the annals of the Qiang people, and indeed in the broader chronicles of China and humanity, sheep hold a place of immense significance. They nurtured ancient civilisations and catalysed the extraordinary advancements of the modern industrial era.

In his work Wolf Totem, Jiang Rong eloquently extols these gentle and adaptable animals, imbuing them with maternal tenderness and revering them as the primordial progenitors of agricultural civilisation. He juxtaposes wolves' ferocity with sheep's docility, weaving this dynamic into the tapestry of Chinese history to unearth cause and effect. The zeniths of Chinese history, he concludes, were epochs where the humility of sheep and the ferocity of wolves coexisted harmoniously, citing the illustrious eras of the Wenjing Reign, Kaiyuan Prosperity, and Kangqian Flourishing. In the realm of civilisation, he ascribes wolf-like fierceness to the nomadic cultures of the grasslands and sheep-like docility to the agricultural societies, positing that the fusion of these disparate ethnicities led to profound transformations and upheavals.

The omnipresence of sheep is starkly evident throughout the annals of Chinese cultural history. In the lexicon of beauty, "big sheep" epitomizes the ideal. In taste, "sheep and fish" symbolise the pinnacle of freshness. In classifying ethnic groups, "sheep children" denote the Qiang people.

Thus, it is clear that the ancient Qiang were shepherds, a truth reflected in their hieroglyphics and the very sound of their names. The pronunciation of "Qiang" closely mirrors the bleating of sheep, though "Qiang" is a monosyllable while a sheep's bleat is a symphony of complex sounds. Hence, the "Tai Ping Yu Lan" section of the "Historical Records" asserts that "sheep is also the sound."

The Qiang people are akin to sheep. Their veins course with the bright red blood of gentleness, kindness, patience, dedication, and resilience. In their hearts, they carry the simple and generous tree of life. In their beliefs, they unfurl the banner of reverence for life and the spirituality of all things.

Aba Shibi stands as the cultural emblem and spiritual beacon of the Qiang people. For millennia, he has steadfastly upheld his green philosophy with the unwavering strength of a vajra pestle. The sorrowful gaze and plaintive bleating of the sheep etched upon his staff serve as sacred reminders of the tribe's profound reverence and awe for nature, forming an invincible divine majesty alongside leopard claws, tiger teeth, lion bones, and eagle beaks.

In May 2018, Erlizhai Village was a blossoming paradise, simple yet pristine, with a fragrant aroma. As the sun shyly emerged from the peak of Jiangjun Mountain, casting a watery red glow, the villagers gathered for the sacrificial ceremony, joyfully enveloped in the sweet scent of flowers. They had crafted paper flags, prepared incense, wax, paper money, and pig fat, and solemnly marched towards the sacrificial tower.

The previous night, Aba Shibi had lit incense, wax, and paper money before his family altar, informing the gods of heaven, Mubita, and his ancestors Abaxila, as well as the deities of trees, water, and land, about the impending mountain sacrifice. Now, adorned in a monkey-head cap and a leopard skin coat, he led the sacrificial procession, staff in hand. Behind him, a robust and beautifully-furred sheep was led. Its sacred solitude filled it with fear, causing it to dig its front legs into the mud and lean backwards, occasionally emitting a soft, mournful bleat, "Baa, baa, baa."

As an ethnologist once explained to me, the character for "sheep" was not only present in oracle bone inscriptions but was depicted multiple times, sometimes with an extra line around their necks, indicating sheep destined for sacrifice, tied with a rope and led to the sacrificial grounds. The oracle bone inscriptions recorded only one ethnic group, the "Qiang." From the portrayal of sacrificial sheep, we can infer the profound relationship between the Qiang people and sheep in their worship of the gods.

Beneath the sky's vast expanse, a resplendent sheep stands tethered to the Nasa, the sacrificial tower, by an eternal, divine rope, as inscribed in ancient oracle bones. It watches serenely as nine poles are lovingly placed around the Nasa, encircled by vibrant five-coloured flags. Sun-shaped bread offerings, crafted with reverence, are presented to the gods. A bewitched peach branch, adorned with three talismans sanctified by Shibi's sacred texts, is prepared. Its top, facing the heavens, is carved into a flat rectangle with seven horizontal slits, into which delicate turmeric wood pieces are inserted. The scene is animated by the scent of incense and the fluttering of paper money before the Nasa, as the central piece of the bread offerings is cast into the flames.

Having invoked the mountain gods from Xuebaoding's lofty peaks to Jiangjun Cliff through three sections of sacred chants, Shibi anoints the sheep's left horn with pig fat. He fills a basin with water, breathes into it while chanting, and drops three red-hot white stones. He then uses cypress incense to fumigate, sprinkling the water onto his eyes and those of others and finally onto the sheep's body. The sheep, now baptised, shivers with a divine revelation. Its clear, yellow eyes fill with tears, not of fear or sorrow, but pure as morning dew caressed by sunlight. Blood flows from the incision, and people eagerly reach out, holding their unburned paper money towards it, even dipping the cursed peach branch in its blood.

Those lucid, yellow eyes witness all. The sheep, content in its sacrificial role, carries the fervent hopes of this bustling human world to the gods. Its head is placed atop the Nasa, its curved horns directed towards the mountainous wings as if embarking on a celestial journey. Its entrails, liver, and lungs are meticulously cut and solemnly placed on stone slabs. People hold these slabs, ascending the mountain behind the tower, calling "Dia Dia Dia" to the birds, imploring them to forsake their malevolence in wasting food. The blood-soaked peach branch is firmly planted into the earth and the sacred knife gleams with divine radiance. Aba Shibi, his face fierce like a lion-tiger, grips the knife, his ancient scriptures flowing like a pristine stream. He declares, "Now, let us curse together before the Nasa! Let no one cut trees, steal, sow discord, or quarrel. What if someone breaks their vow?" Shibi thrusts the sacred knife forward and roars, "Eliminate!" The people, united in wrath, chant thrice:

"Eliminate! Eliminate! Eliminate!"

Subsequently, the heads of each household step forward to swear and vow before the cursed peach branch. For millennia, the sacred mountains, rivers, trees, and lands of the Qiang people have been governed by mystical forces through these rituals. Through this intimate and harmonious coexistence, we have thrived peacefully with nature, with each other, within our villages and ethnic groups. We think of the sheep in moments of harshness and brutality or when on the brink of surrender or indifference. While I cannot elucidate the scientific essence of these mountain and river offerings, the beauty of the community that blossoms from such rituals is vividly clear.