The Book of Joy

discover that freedom is actually cheaper than oppression.” The children
burst into applause.
“I am very deeply honored to be the friend of the Dalai Lama. I show
off when I’m in other places. I pretend that I am modest, and don’t tell
too many people that actually he is a very, very dear friend. I just say,
well, you know, he’s mischievous. He’s troublesome. When I’m wearing
my cap, he takes it off my head and puts it on his own.
“You know what? The world supports you. The world loves the Dalai
Lama. I want to also add my thank-you to the Indian government, the
Indian people who opened their arms to welcome you, because they have
preserved for us a great treasure. They preserved for us a great treasure
that would otherwise have been lost. And so I want to say to you, all of
you . . . ooh, look at how beautiful you are. Oh, yo, yo, yo, yo. Ooh, ooh!
One day, you will be dancing and singing in the streets of Tibet, your
home country. God bless you.”
The children now cheered even louder. They were trying to be polite
and respectful, but you could see how their hope had been awakened. I
scanned the faces of the children, from the older boys and girls who were
really almost young men and women, the next generation of Tibetan
leaders, down to the very young children, whose memories of leaving
their families must still be fresh, the wounds of separation still healing. I
felt like my heart was in my throat. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I
recalled the anguish we had just witnessed in the library, imagining the
children’s equally brokenhearted parents. It was not hard to imagine what
dancing in the streets of Tibet—reunited with their families—would
mean to them. Everything.
After a few questions from the older students, a huge multilayered
cake with our trick candles burning was brought on to the stage. At the
same time teachers began to pass out little square pieces of cake to all the
students. It was an ingenious way to distribute the cake, since we would
have been there all day if we had to cut each child a slice.
A group of older children took the stage—this time a band of boys
played guitars and drums as the chorus of girls began to sing “We Are the
World.” Soon the whole school was singing with them: “We are the