【双语阅读】喜马拉雅幕后直击：在中国西藏的现场采访报道

 　　喜马拉雅幕后直击：在中国西藏的现场采访报道
　　【原文标题】WITNESS: Reporting from behind China's Himalayan curtain
　　【中文标题】喜马拉雅幕后直击：在中国西藏的现场采访报道
　　【登载媒体】路透社网站
　　【来源地址】http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSTRE52001M20090301?sp=true
　　【译者】tenderstorm(清溪照影)
　　【声明】本译文版权归Anti-CNN及译者所有，未经许可，切勿转载
　　【译文】（路透社记者艾玛—格拉罕-哈里森发自中国西藏）我刚下飞机，正在大口呼吸西藏的稀薄空气，中方政府陪同人员就走过来告诉我：取消了休息一晚以适应高海拔的安排。
　　于是，在西藏最神圣庙宇行色匆匆的参观，一直拖到深夜的新闻发布会，为这次围绕中国最敏感地区的采访报道之行定下了艰苦的步调。
　　一年前的严重骚乱和五十年前达赖喇嘛的叛逃使这个三月初气氛凝重。这两件事都是潜在的不安定因素，也考验着中国对这个与世隔绝的喜马拉雅高原地区的控制能力。
　　虽然自从举办奥运会以来，中国承诺外国媒体可以不受限制地进入中国绝大多数地区，但西藏例外。外国游客现在也禁止进入西藏，除非得到为数极少的特别许可。
　　所以，作为几个月后首次进入西藏采访报道的12名记者之一，确实机会难得，也不免让人沮丧。
　　中国之外的读者希望得到不受中国官方媒体过滤的新闻报道，而中方的陪同官员也同样期望我们能从北京的角度看待西藏这个地方和当地的诸多现实困难。$ 采访行程大多对我们事先保密，也安排的很满，弄得我们筋疲力尽，从早上一直忙碌到深夜，所以我们也无暇溜出去采访普通藏民。
　　喜马拉雅高原地区矿藏丰富，其高山雪水是亚洲众多河流的源头，在战略上对中国至关重要。自从达赖喇嘛在全球四处活动为西藏造势以来，北京对这个地区的管辖也成了敏感的外交议题。
　　因此，中国政府对拉萨这个不安分的地区的管控是松是紧，当地普通民众对即将到来的特殊日子如何看待，因骚乱引发的民族间的紧张气氛有否消除，这些问题我都有兴趣一探究竟。
　　而这四天来近乎忙乱而编排有序的采访之行使我很难主动了解西藏的真实情形。
　　我几乎花了一半时间要求不去那些样板村庄和寺庙景点，因为在这些地方，想偷窥一下普通民众的生活状况都机会渺茫。
　　百般无奈之下，我还是按部就班地参观采访了油料加工厂和当地占星家，而对那位举着奥运火炬登顶珠峰的妇女的采访我干脆就没去。
　　我们的陪同人员也运气不佳，我不断地要求他们，并威胁说，如果再带我们去采访一家藏医医院，我们就都不去。
　　这些陪同官员的工作饭碗将维系于我们的报道内容，可他们仍然愿意表示些许弹性，这让我有点吃惊甚至感激。他们甚至让我溜到藏民的集市上去，而不是去达赖喇嘛的夏宫。
　　虽然地处高原，西藏大多数地方都美得让人窒息。采访之中，也不乏意料之外的乐事，比如一位年迈的女信徒笑眯眯地拍了一下我的屁股，要我拍下她朝拜的样子。
　　但是我们心中那种让人不安的杂念仍然挥之不去，那就是，在西藏，你也许不能总是相信自己的眼睛。
　　当地人告诉我说，几百名武警一直在拉萨维持治安，而为了我们这次采访，官员们没让他们现身。而我还以为自从毛泽东之后，那种大规模的掩盖现实的形象编排已不再有。
　　“真奇怪，你们一来，拉萨一下子就又平静了，”一位出租车司机诙谐地说道。
　　在我们被带到一个地级市的路上，沿路的许多村庄都站着警察，他们背对着我们，以便密切注意聚集在一起的当地民众。官员们不愿意解释为什么有警察。
　　在参观拉萨寺庙的匆匆行程之中，我要求和一些普通僧侣，也就是近来数起骚乱的那些肇事者见面，可那些身披红袍的高级喇嘛们说他们正在闭门学习，或者不知去向。当时一位同行的记者不小心撞见几位僧人在附近做饭，就被马上支开了。
　　看来北京想传达的信息是西藏是稳定祥和蒸蒸日上的。可那种小心翼翼地限制我们的所见所闻的做法只会导致我们产生相反的印象。
　　站岗的警察、消失的武警、隐遁的僧侣、以及几天来排得满满却毫不相干的采访行程使我确信，中国认为西藏是个危险的不安分的地方，也很担心能否掌控西藏和国际舆论。
　　虽然我极力探究，可带领我们四处参观的政府官员之外的普通藏民的真实想法我仍然捉摸不透。
　　没有人愿意开口多谈，只有讶异的眼神、抑郁的愁容。这里很难办。我们不敢说。”我最多也只能得到如此回答。（翻译：清溪照影）  　　WITNESS: Reporting from behind China's Himalayan curtain
　　Sat Feb 28, 2009
　　By Emma Graham-Harrison
　　LHASA, China (Reuters) - I had barely stepped off the plane, gasping slightly in the thin Tibetan air, when our government minder wandered over to tell me plans for an evening of rest and adaptation to the high altitude had been canceled.
　　Instead a dash to see Tibet's most sacred temple, and a news conference that dragged late into the night, set the gruelling pace for a reporting trip around China's most sensitive region.
　　The one-year anniversary of deadly riots and 50th anniversary of the Dalai Lama's flight into exile are looming in early March. Both are potential triggers for unrest and key tests of China's control of the closed-off Himalayan plateau.
　　While China has promised the foreign media unfettered access to most parts of the country since hosting the Olympics, Tibet is an exception. Foreign tourists are also banned at present, except for a lucky few given special permission.
　　So being one of a dozen journalists taken on the first media visit to the region in months was a rare but daunting opportunity.
　　Readers outside China are eager for news not filtered by China's state media, while officials escorting us were equally keen to ensure we saw the region and its troubles from Beijing's perspective.
　　Our stamina was strained by an agenda kept largely secret from us but packed from morning until late at night, busy enough to keep us from slipping out to meet ordinary Tibetans.
　　The area is strategically vital to China for its potentially rich mineral reserves and its snow-fed highlands which are the source of many of Asia's rivers. Beijing's rule of the region has also become a sensitive diplomatic issue after a globe-trotting campaign by the Dalai Lama raised Tibet's profile.
　　So I was curious to see if the government had relaxed or tightened its control on volatile Lhasa, what ordinary people thought about the upcoming anniversary and whether any of the ethnic tension generated by the riots had dissipated.
　　Getting a handle on what was really going on in Tibet turned out to be difficult in a hectic, stage-managed four-day visit.
　　I spent what seemed like half my time arguing against visits to model villages and tourist sites such as palaces, where there was little chance to catch even a controlled glimpse of ordinary life.
　　I tapped my feet in frustration through trips to a walnut oil processing factory and local astrologers, and simply skipped a meeting with the woman who carried the Olympic torch up Everest.
　　We were only taken to a second Lhasa monastery after I harassed our unlucky minders and threatened to boycott an unwanted trip to a traditional medicine hospital.
　　But I was surprised and grateful that officials whose careers could be put on the line by our reporting were willing to show some flexibility. They even let me slip off to a Tibetan market instead of touring the Dalai Lama's summer residence.
　　TRUSTING YOUR EYES
　　Tibet was often breathtakingly beautiful despite the stress and I had a few moments of the unexpected interaction that can make reporting such fun, like when a grinning old pilgrim gave me a slap on the bottom for taking a photo of her devotions.
　　But we were stalked by disconcerting reminders that in Tibet even our own eyes could not always be trusted.
　　Locals told us that for our visit, officials had hidden hundreds of paramilitary police who had been keeping order in Lhasa for months. It was the type of large-scale stage-management of reality I thought had been abandoned along with Maoism.
　　"It's amazing. The day before you arrived, Lhasa became suddenly peaceful again," quipped one taxi driver.
　　When we were taken to a provincial town, police lined many of the villages along our route, their backs to the road so they could keep a close eye on clusters of locals. Officials would not explain why they were there.
　　And as we were hurried through the halls of Lhasa's monasteries I asked to meet some rank-and-file monks, the originators of many recent protests in Tibet, but their red-robed superiors said they were locked away in study or otherwise unavailable. A colleague then stumbled across a group of them cooking nearby, but was hurriedly ushered away.
　　The message Beijing seemed keen to convey was that Tibet was stable and prospering. Yet the careful attempts at managing our perceptions served only to create the opposite impression.
　　The watchful police, disappearing soldiers, sequestered monks, and days packed with irrelevant visits left me convinced that China thinks Tibet is dangerously volatile, and worries about both its grip on the place and international opinion.
　　The one thing I am still unsure about, despite my best efforts, is the opinions of ordinary Tibetans outside the government apparatus that showed us around.
　　Beyond a raised eyebrow or an unhappy grimace, none wanted to open up.
　　"It's difficult here. We don't dare talk" was the best I could get.
　　(Editing by Nick Macfie and Megan Goldin)