My trip to Pokhara has been outstanding. Provocative life lessons seem to present themselves to me as often as I will allow them.
The seven-hour bus ride from Kathmandu to Pokhara took me through 200 kilometers of beautiful mountains, terraced fields, and small villages where old Nepali men and women sit in the sun and watch watch their grandchildren play badminton and soccer. I met a woman from Australia and a guy from Denmark and by the time we reached Pokhara we decided that we would all look for rooms in the same hotel. By the end of the night we were joined by a wise and adventurous Spaniard who shared stories from eight years of travel in India, Nepal, and the rest of the world.
After a few days of exploring Pokhara, eating Western-Nepali style meals engineered for hungry, homesick tourists, and attending three Rotary events in three days, Safal Ghimire arrived to show me his Nepal. I met Safal at Kathmandu University, where he is studying for his second year in the program that I am just beginning. He spent the first 20 of his 21 years living with his family on a farm in the outskirts of the ever-expanding Pokhara and he promised that if I ever wanted to visit Pokhara, he would be happy to accompany me. I took a taxi to Safal's home and shared a mountainous plate of daal bat with his family, sitting on the floor of his small kitchen and eating with my hands. This beautiful experience was to be repeated many times in the next few days. Before bed, Safal's whole family walked me to the property next door, which belongs to Safal's uncle. Safal's father has 7 living brothers and sisters and Nepali tradition requires that the father divide his land among his sons. So, Safal's father and his four brothers all live on the same large plot of land that has been in their family for over 200 years. The each have their own cows or buffaloes and they each have a small garden plot which feeds the family. In addition to tending his farm, one of Safal's uncles is a Pujari, or Hindu priest. The whole family and I sat in his small room with walls lined with shelves of ancient Hindu texts. Safal's uncle gave me a blessing and painted the small red Tika on my forehead to indicate the blessing. He told stories and read about the position and significance of the stars of the day of my birth.
Safal's own story is amazing. He has won numerous awards in Nepal for being the finest orator of the Nepali language. Whenever he translates for me, I not only trust that my message is being conveyed accurately, I am certain that my words become even more meaningful and beautiful when they reach the people I wish to communicate with. When he was about 10 years old his father asked him to quit school and to work on the family farm. Since then Safal has paid for all of his education by himself. He led an enormous group of young people dedicated to improving the environmental, social, and political situation in Nepal. He published many articles and poems renouncing the despotic monarchy and fighting for a democratic Nepal. He led street protests and was the target of military gunfire during the dangerous times of curfew before the monarchy fell. He organized a reproductive health education program, wrote a proposal to get a bit of grant money, and traveled with 15 of his friends to remote villages to talk with young people about the very taboo subject of sex and reproductive health. He also wrote, directed, and acted in very provocative street theatre performances to teach sexual and moral values and responsibility to his peers. Now he is studying Human and Natural Resource Management with me and his greatest dream is to travel to the USA to study Peace and Conflict Studies at a prestigious university. I would like to connect him to the program at Notre Dame. If anyone has any contacts that might be able to help Safal, I can think of no more worthy candidate.
The day after I arrived at the Ghimire home, Safal and I departed for the village of Ghachowk, where his mother's brother lives. We walked for three hours along dusty roads, across perilous bridges, and up and down the sides of the river valley. The more we walked, the fewer signs of "development" were visible. We stopped along the way to visit the mother of one of Safal's friends. She lives alone, survives on the foods from a small garden plot, and tends her buffalo. When we arrived she was so excited to offer of some peanuts from her garden and milk tea with milk from her buffalo. We sat and talked for awhile and Safal later told me that she was close to tears because her own boys are looking for work in the city.
Safal and I were warmly welcomed in the Ghachowk. After strolling around and visiting Safal's friends and family in the very remote village of about 3,000 people, we returned to his uncle's home for a big meal of daal bat. From morning till night, everyone is busy cooking, milking, and taking care of all the household chores. On the morning after we arrived, I was able to help out by churning butter. I spent about a half hour sitting in the small kitchen, seated in front of a cylindrical wooden bucket, pulling opposite ends of a rope wrapped around the handle of a paddle. The picture should make more sense than my description.
That morning, word spread that an old man had died in the village. All the men who knew him got together, collected some large pieces of wood, and carried his body to the river. There they made a pile with their wood and burned his body. As we walked out of town, we passed the men gathered around the fire. We stopped for a moment, but then had to keep walking in order to get back to Pokhara for an appointment at a local highschool.
Safal's brother, Baman, invited me to speak to his 9th graders about life in the U.S. I had a great time talking with the class of 50 boys and girls and they asked some good questions about school, tests, and dating in my home country. I also cleared up some misconceptions. They asked me if everyone in the U.S. has to move out of their parents' home when they are 17. They also asked if everyone has lots of money. One significant difference between the school systems in the Nepal and the U.S. is the Nepali focus on values. They aren't so focused on tests and standards so they are able to teach kids about respect, kindness to everyone, and living a moral life. Kids here are incredibly respectful to me all the time. I am humbled by their smiles and I only wish that we had a similar practice at home.
After we left the school, Safal and I boarded a bus for the village of Saiswara. I had another very interesting experience on bus, which was so crowded that three people were hanging out of each of the two doorways and three more were standing on the rear bumper, holding onto anything that would keep them from falling off. Inside, a woman with a child had recently boarded the bus and I offered her my seat on the large spare tire that was lying on the floor. She gratefully accepted and she was then offered a real seat to sit in. Immediately after I exchanged places with the woman, a man said to Safal that he could not bear to see a foreigner, a guest in his country, standing on such a crowded bus. The man got out of his seat and insisted that I sit. In all the homes we visited, Safal and I were treated like kings, though the people we visited had very little money. Safal explained that in Nepal, the guest is always considered to be like God and should be treated as such. After we got off the bus, he told me that the old men on the bus began talking about America. The asked one another whether they thought that a foreigner would be offered a seat on a crowded bus by an American citizen. I am glad that I did not know more Nepali at that point. I would not have liked to have answered that question.
That night brought more warm, intimate conversations with Safal's friend Milan and his family while sharing another large plate of daal bat. We also drank many more cups of milk and curd from the family's buffalo. I asked Milan's father if he was happy with his life and if he needed anything else to be happy. He said that he was quite content with his life. He had plenty of fresh, organic food to eat, he had all the clean water he could use, and he had a house for his family. Another common theme that I heard from each of the houses we visited was that the family's were so honored that someone from America would visit their homes and eat with them. They seemed surprised when I explained that the honor was really mine. Many people also asked me about the promised land of the USA. I told them that there are jobs there, and there is money, but that it isn't like the movies. The truth is that I don't know many people in my country who are really happy, despite having plenty of food, money, cars, and giant houses. The truth is (and I may be projecting my romantic ideas of Eastern culture) that the people on those small farms seemed to more fulfilled, less depressed, less restless, and more generous than 99% of the people I've met at home.
I don't know if we all need to sell all our possessions and begin growing all our own food (but it wouldn't hurt). I am certain, though, that the simplicity of the peoples' lives in rural Nepal allows them to live with a peace unknown to most people in the west. They have to work hard to survive, but there is an indisputable purpose to absolutely everything that they do.
In other news, my classes at Kathmandu University begin on Thursday and today I went to a program to celebrate World Wetlands Day. I had never even heard of this day! But I went to a lake about 20 Km. outside of Kathmandu and found a group of about 50 young people who were there to enjoy the natural beauty, the clean air, and to raise awareness about protecting valuable ecosystems. I decided to join a group of about 20 people who were going on a long hike through the rice paddi fields and forests in the surrounding hills. As we began the walk, I noticed that a young guy tossed some pieces of trash on the ground. This is a huge social problem in Nepal and there is literally trash everywhere. The waste management system leaves much to be desired. I had a plastic bag with me and I made sure to be in the front of the line as I began picking up a few pieces of trash and filling my bag. Within 5 minutes I was joined by an energetic young woman named Mona. After seeing me, she had collected a few more plastic bags and then we began making a bigger dent in the polluted country side. By the end of the three-hour walk, nearly everyone was helping out, villagers thanked us and stared in disbelief, and we had together collected about 20 bags of trash. I think that this action really created some new consciousness among those few people. I hope it will spread!
