In Nepal’s highlands, climate change threatens Tibet’s Bon faith

In a remote Himalayan valley in northwest Nepal, an ancient spiritual tradition that has survived centuries of upheaval now faces a new and uncertain threat — climate change.

Lubra, a small village in the Mustang region, is home to one of the world’s few remaining communities that still follows Bon, the indigenous religion of Tibet. For generations, its people have preserved unique rituals, beliefs and cultural practices, but worsening floods, changing snowfall patterns and disappearing farmland are now putting both the village and its heritage at risk.

“It has been 20 generations since the great monk Trashi Gyaltsen founded Lubra,” says Lama Tsultrim, the village’s spiritual leader. The 76-year-old monk still remembers the stories of the village’s origins, including the legend of a walnut tree that grew from two planted pine needles and marked the place where Lubra was established.

Today, that ancient tree stands as a symbol of endurance — but the landscape around it is changing rapidly.

A village shaped by Bon tradition

Lubra is one of the oldest Nepalese settlements where Bon remains the central faith. The religion, considered Tibet’s indigenous spiritual tradition, predates Buddhism and has its own rituals, deities and understanding of the natural world.

The village’s monastery preserves Bon practices, including ceremonies dedicated to Tonpa Shenrab Miwo, regarded by followers as the founder of the faith. Unlike Buddhist traditions, Bon followers perform certain rituals differently, including walking around sacred monuments in an anti-clockwise direction.

For centuries, Lubra’s isolation helped protect its culture. Located in the former cultural region of Zhangzhung, an ancient kingdom of western Tibet, the village became a refuge for Bon followers as Buddhism spread across Tibet.

But the same mountains that protected Lubra are now exposing it to climate risks.

Floods reshape an ancient landscape

Over the past decade, increasingly destructive monsoon floods have damaged homes, destroyed farmland and forced families to leave their ancestral houses.

Several homes now sit abandoned, their doors blocked by mud and sediment. Fields once used to grow apples, potatoes and buckwheat have been washed away.

“The floods are ferocious. They bounce off the cliffs across the valley, churning, and plough into everything in the way,” says Yangchen Gurung, a resident whose home was destroyed in the 2021 floods.

Her family was forced to move to higher ground after their house was buried under thick flood debris.

Residents say the weather patterns that once defined life in Mustang have changed. Winters have become warmer, snowfall has reduced and heavy rainfall events have become more intense.

“Before, in winter, there used to be so much snow you couldn’t leave the house,” Yangchen says. “But these days it barely snows.”

Scientists have also documented increasing extreme rainfall events and erosion across Himalayan regions, causing more sediment-heavy floods that can rapidly transform river valleys.

In Lubra, the riverbed has reportedly risen significantly over the last decade, bringing the river dangerously close to homes and farmland.

Losing land, losing livelihoods

The people of Lubra depend heavily on agriculture and traditional water systems. For generations, they have used ponds called zings and small irrigation channels to capture glacial meltwater and supply fields.

But declining snowfall and unpredictable rainfall are threatening these systems.

“There is little water now, little snow, little snowmelt,” Yangchen says.

The loss of farmland is not only an economic challenge but also a cultural one. Agriculture, rituals and community life are deeply connected in Bon tradition.

The local monastery remains the centre of village life, where residents gather for religious ceremonies and prepare traditional offerings. But even these historic structures are vulnerable.

Traditional houses and monasteries built with earth and wood were designed for snowy, dry conditions. Increased rainfall is causing leaks, weakening walls and damaging old buildings.

Protecting a disappearing heritage

Despite the challenges, Lubra’s people are working to keep their traditions alive.

The Chasey Kengtse Hostel was established 25 years ago to prevent children from leaving the region and losing connection with their language, culture and religion. Today, it educates children from Bon communities across northwest Nepal.

“We wanted to prevent our culture and religion from dying out,” says Nyima Dhundul Gurung, a Bon monk who runs the school.

The village also continues to maintain its monastery, meditation caves and rituals that connect the community with the surrounding landscape.

For Bon followers, nature is not separate from spirituality. Mountains, rivers and forests are believed to be connected with powerful spirits that influence everyday life.

“Bon has a strong connection with nature,” Nyima says.

An uncertain future

Many residents understand that climate change may force difficult decisions. Some have already moved homes, but leaving the village entirely is not easy.

The connection to ancestral land, temples and sacred places remains deeply important.

“People don’t want to move far, as the proximity to the temple and ancestral home is really important,” says landscape researcher Dane Carlson.

For centuries, Lubra and its people have survived political changes, religious conflicts and isolation. Now they face a different challenge — a changing climate that threatens the very landscape that allowed their traditions to endure.

As Lama Tsultrim walks slowly toward his new home, he remains hopeful.

“Who can tell? You cannot write of the future,” he says.

But for the people of Lubra, preserving Bon means protecting not only an ancient faith, but the fragile Himalayan environment that has carried it through generations.