My three hour trip to the village by taxi, courtesy of KEEP, the in country agent, was an insight into Nepali life; being bogged twice, having to get out of the car and walk so the car could traverse the hill, and then endure the journey as the car bounced along, on what could be described loosely as a goat track. Augmenting this was the beautiful scenery and clean air which was a nice change to Kathmandu.
The 50kg of donations from my school consisting of flash cards, posters, picture books, puzzles, pens, pencils, rulers and the like and a brand new portable DVD for each school was divided and distributed at the first school's library, which was by far the most affluent of the three schools I was to visit. Little did I know it then, but I was in culture shock! The poverty was opaque and hung heavy like the Kathmandu smog around the city which at times suffocated the senses.
At the second school I met Nicole. Three months is a long time for a doting father.The third and last school was the poorest. Yet in time it turned out to be the richest.The Principal's office resembled a war torn bunker out of Afghanistan.
I was then introduced to my family where I was to stay for the next few days. My "room" next to the stables ( for the cows of course) and clay carved kitchen/dining area gave me a good feel for village life. As I ate my meal with my right hand I was joined by the family cat for dinner; rice of course. I asked did the cat have name. "No. He is only here to catch the rats". I bade goodnight and went to bed. Next morning I could hear Mum around 5.30 washing down the clay walls of her kitchen, then start the fire, gather the grains and prepare lunch (dahl bat) to be served at 9.00 am. This process was to be repeated at night and each day and every day of her life.
On the second morning I asked about showers and they pointed to a tank full of water with a jug in full view of the neighbors and where all the family cleaning would take place. I decided that showering would have to wait. The village was not quite yet ready for my "beautiful body"! And as I washed my hands with the eroded Cussons Imperial soap that lay above the squat toilet I knew I was in Nepal.
My next two days were teaching the teachers. Prior to this, I had asked the other Antipodean girls for some advice: Two simple things they said: " Tell the teachers to actually come to class" and "Tell them not to hit the children".
It was the last piece of advice that stung deeply. I listened to one of the girls recall a moment in class when one of her students was repeatedly hit by the teacher for behaving badly. Here was a young Australian volunteer caught up in a cultural firestorm and clash of values.What should she do?
Notwithstanding it was privilege to hear the struggles of Nepali teachers: poor status, poorly paid, poorly trained and with a ratio of 1 teacher to 45 students. I was heartened to see that some of the women resonated with the importance of knowing your students and were at least willing to try my not so new ideas like group work!
At night in my room I would be visited by the teacher with whom I was staying and his friend who was
the Vice President of the Management Committee ( Like a School Board) of the same school. Both were young men in their mid to late twenties, spoke good English, were well educated and highly critical of the present Government yet also highly idealistic and optimistic for the future. We would speak for hours about Philosophy, Politics, Religion, Customs and the caste system. Every Night the light would go. Blackout. Pitch black conversation. Then candlelight. This was a regular occurrence every night for at least two hours in the morning and two hours at night. No money. No Power. They also explained to me that in their village their surname 'Dulal' denoted their caste. So every one in the village had the same surname. They were a higher caste then the village below them but the first affluent school I visited, that village was of the Brahman caste. On my last night there they said they wanted to add me to Facebook! What a juxtaposition of Village life.
Embedded into my consciousness by these young men was that they saw the teaching of English, which is compulsory language in all schools in Nepal, as the Holy Grail, the yellow brick road and the way out of poverty and oppression.
On my last day the poorest school showered the girls and me with flowers, a framed certificate and a "Token of Love" wooden ornament of Nepal in a beautiful farewell ceremony of dancing and singing that lasted a few hours. They were poor but they sure taught us lesson of what is really important in life.
I has asked, no begged, Nicole to come to Bhaktapur with me after we left the village.For the next two days she showed me around and it was only on the last day when we visited Potters square, an ornate tapestry of clay pots and figures draped against old buildings that I first saw the beauty of this ancient town. I had at last begun to breathe.
The Poverty was abject. Mangy dogs perched against a sea of rubble, dust and pollution from noisy motor bikes, homeless kids and begging. This was brought into sharp relief when Nicole and I were sitting in a restaurant facing out onto Durbar square, a beautiful vista of temples and ancient buildings. In the foreground was a hunched man with withered lower limbs being supported by a stick feebly hoping after tourist to tourist begging for money. The sad irony from where I was sitting having lunch was not lost on me. I recalled a comment made by an American teacher and his Japanese friend with whom we had breakfast one morning. On reflecting on the poverty of Nepal he said: that " Nepal is where the Bangladeshis come for holiday"
Yet there is spirit in this land and people that transcends the thick cloak of poverty and mask of sheer desperation. But it takes time to be able to see beyond one reality to see another.
Last night I had the privilege of being part of the farewell KEEP ( The Kathmandu Environmental and Eduction Project who are the in country agent for the girls). As I sat next to one of KEEP's founders and in between the "Mr John please have some more Everest beer" I was struck by how proud, hard working, resourceful and resilient the Nepali people are and how hard KEEP is working to build a better life for rural communities. The nine girls from Australia.who volunteered for three months and who were such fine ambassadors for their country bore testimony to that.
And beyond the countless photos of truly beautiful scenery and ancient temples there is etched in my memory something much more endearing: that in the fragility of life there are always seeds that take root and bring forth life for others.
Until next time
good tidings and God's blessings
Janika
No comments:
Post a Comment