Imagine a place where every home has paraphernalia for distilling spirits, where there is a toast for nearly any occasion, and where your taxes – paid in grain, not cash – are deposited straight into a communal still.
Welcome to Nubri.
A valley in northern Nepal, Nubri is home to roughly 3,000 Tibetan Buddhist highlanders. Over the course of three decades, I have spent a lot of time in Nubri studying the interplay of demographic trends and social change. Often that has been in the company of an ethnomusicologist colleague, Mason Brown, who studies local musical traditions.
While conducting research, we both became aficionados of the local intoxicants chang and arak, and we were taught how to brew and distill them by Nubri resident and research collaborator Jhangchuk Sangmo Thakuri.
Other scholars of Tibetan and Himalayan societies have commented on the importance of chang for ritual purposes and as a social lubricant. In Nubri, which is predominantly ethnic Tibetan, we learned firsthand the integral role both drinks had in maintaining local rituals, the economy and developing social relationships.
The basics of brewing
Let’s start with the basics. Chang is a fermented, noncarbonated beverage made from corn, barley or rice. A starter culture, partially derived from a previous fermentation, is added to warm, boiled grain, which is then stuffed into a container with water and sealed. The fermentation process takes a few days to two weeks, depending on variables such as temperature and one’s preference for the brew’s strength.
To make arak, the mash of fermented grain is transferred to a still that is placed over an open fire. The evaporated liquid – essentially concentrated alcohol – condenses and drops into a catch basin when it contacts a vessel at the top filled with cool water. The distillation process takes roughly an hour.
Chang is unfiltered and often contains a fair amount of sediments. It is low in alcohol – roughly 3% to 6% ABV, or equivalent to a European lager – and is considered a refreshing drink, especially while working in hot weather. Although it varies by brew, chang is generally slightly sweet, with a tinge or sourness.
Arak, by contrast, is clear and dry, similar in flavor and mouthfeel to Japanese sake. Based on taste and effect, we estimate that most batches clock in at 15% to 25% ABV – stronger than a glass of wine, but less potent than, say, whiskey.
All but the poorest households in Nubri own a still; those who don’t borrow one from neighbors when they have surplus grain.
To hell … or glory?
Evidence suggests that chang has been consumed by Tibetans for centuries. A story purportedly from the seventh century describes how court officials were dispatched by an emperor to find a boy with magical powers. When they encountered a child and asked where his parents were, he responded, “Father has gone to search for words. Mother has gone to search for eyes.” The father showed up carrying chang and the mother bearing fire.
Despite chang’s antiquity, Tibetans have their share of teetotalers and prohibitionists. For example, 15th-century Buddhist lama Ngorchen Kunga Zangpo argued, “Since one (who drinks) created and accumulated the karma of a mad person, one’s body will come to ruin, and after one has died, one will be born among the hell-beings of the lower realms of existence.”
The message is elegant in its simplicity – drink and you’ll go to hell!
Geoff Childs, CC BY
Kunga Zangpo’s warning aside, intoxicating beverages have long been valued in Nubri society.
Writing in the mid-18th century, Pema Wangdu, a Nubri lama famous for composing songs of spiritual realization, recounts how when seeking guidance from a local lama, he needed to present an offering, so he filched chang from home while his family members were working in the fields.
Pema Wangdu’s main teacher, Pema Döndrub, also from Nubri, describes a visit to a neighboring valley in which an official asks local villagers to bring the lama and his entourage some chang. Apparently they brought more than enough, because Pema Döndrub retorted, “We kept the tasty chang and sent the unappealing stuff away.”
Geoff Childs
Chang is also commonly mentioned in Nubri’s folk songs, which have been passed down for generations. In one, the singer rejoices that he has had multiple windfalls of good luck: He lives in a civilized country, inhabits a golden chamber and has an elegant foal and many sheep. Proclaiming that his prosperity is deserved, the singer commands his wife, “Don’t even think of giving me less chang!”
A drink for all occasions
Nowadays, people in Nubri prefer the more potent arak over chang. This is evident during Buddhist rituals where arak provides some participants with stamina and a bit of levity. Others, especially monks, abstain.
The drinks are procured through the local temple’s tax system. When a couple form a new household, they accept a mandatory loan of roughly 100 kilos of grain from the village temple. Every subsequent year they are required to repay one-third of the loan as interest.
Each ritual has an associated “Loan Document” that specifies what percentage of a household’s annual repayment is used to support that event. The system ensures that a tremendous amount of the harvest is acquired so that it can be fermented and then processed in the temple’s stills.
An associated document titled “Rules (Made By) the Monasteries” specifies when, how much and to whom arak should be distributed throughout the ritual.
Each serving event has a name. There is “connection chang” honoring the auspicious first gathering of ritual participants, “commencement chang” to mark the beginning of each day, and “bedtime chang” for the end of each day.
During an offering to the deities, participants are served “victory chang,” signaling a wish that their entreaties are successful, and “good fortune chang” in anticipation of positive outcomes.
Geoff Childs, CC BY
One more for the road
A final vignette helps illustrate how chang and arak are woven into Nubri’s social and religious fabric.
In May 2023, we departed Nubri after completing a long research stint. Dorje Dundul, an old friend, accompanied us to a religious structure marking the outer boundary of his village. From the depths of his tunic, he extracted a flask filled with arak, inserted the stem of a medicinal herb into the liquid while chanting prayers, then sprinkled droplets into the four directions as an offering to ensure our safe passage.
Afterward, he handed us the flask and urged, “Chö, chö” (“Drink, drink”). We each took a long draft of the warming liquid.
He then capped the flask, placed it into the side pocket of our backpack and said, “This is lamchang (road beer). Travel safely.”
During the grueling descent to the lowlands, the parting gift fortified us while providing a constant reminder of Dorje’s concern for our well-being. “One for the road” never felt so good.
Ethnomusicologist Mason Brown and Nubri researcher Jhangchuk Sangmo Thakuri contributed to this article.
