Learning

Namaste!

My classes at Kathmandu University began on February 5th and since that time I have been presented with some startling and disturbing perspectives. I met Ravi Bhandari, a professor from St. Marys College in California who is doing research in Nepal. I have attended a couple of his informal lectures on inequality, post-modernism, and the role of development agencies and NGOs in contributing to Nepal's poverty. I have been forced to reexamine many of my perceptions of such development agencies and my own aspirations of working for them. I am also reading a book called, "Confessions of an Economic Hit man" by John Perkins. The book is truly eye-opening and the author's story tells much about the dubious nature of traditional U.S. foreign policy. I am about halfway through the book and I highly recommend it.

I am currently taking four classes at KU. They are: Natural Resource Economics, Human Dimensions of Development, Natural Resource Systems Management, and the Environmental Impact Assessment. I have a great group of classmates who offer some good discussion and a diverse range of views. I am one of two international students in the school. All of my classes are taught with through PowerPoint and I'm not crazy about this format. However, I am learning. Class goes from 7:30-9:30 every morning except Friday. In Nepal most people only have Saturday as a holiday and they work six days/week. I don't mind this schedule because my whole day is free to explore the city, read, study, and learn more about Nepal. I finally figured out how to link a web-album to my blog, so more pictures should be on the way.

Just before coming to the Internet cafe today, I witnessed something. It was incredible, terrifying, sad, and inspiring. Two brothers, the oldest 10 years old and the younger probably 7, were doing a street performance on Patan's Durbar Square, the ancient plaza down the street from my house. It was probably the most outstanding street performance I've ever seen. Their bodies were like noodles. I watched as the older brother wrapped the younger in a cloth, bent over backwards, and picked him up the cloth with his teeth. He was holding all his brother's weight with his teeth! They walked on their hands as easily as they walked on their feet, and then, while standing on their hands, they put their feet on their heads. Try to imagine that. They danced and played a traditional drum with incredible skill. The highlight came when the 10 year old strapped two six-foot poles to his legs. They were home-made stilts fashioned from sticks that were not particularly straight. He had someone from the large crowd help him to his feet and he began to walk and dance around, far above the crowd. At the end they asked for donations and I gladly contributed.

Then they packed up their belongings and headed down the street. I had a million feelings about this. Of course, I wondered about their guardians. They said that their brother was waiting for them in a nearby suburb. I felt that their lives must be so difficult, that they must know more about suffering than I will probably ever understand. Strangely enough, one of the strongest feelings I experienced was envy. I am certain that they know more about survival that I ever will. They are stronger than I will ever hope to be. They are free in a way that I am not. They have so few attachments in the world and they are able to roam about, wherever they want, without worrying about classes, meetings, schedules, or much of anything except their own survival. They earned enough during their 20 minute performance to eat for a day. And they looked like they were having some fun doing their work. They have opportunities to travel and experience life at such a visceral level that my wealth and attachments will never allow. I am certain that they would trade their life for mine in a heartbeat, and at this point, I would not be willing to trade my lifestyle for theirs. But I realize that this isn't because I am completely satisfied with my life. I still have desires and fears and attachments. The reason I wouldn't trade this lifestyle is fear. I am afraid of not having security, despite the knowledge that my security is an illusion. We like to create lives that feel safe and that appear safe, but we cannot control the universe and this sense of security is constantly threatened by a million different worries and circumstances and possibilities. The boys I saw today readily acknowledge what most people will never admit: we are not in control of anything in this world.

After the boys left the square, I saw a toddler playing with a toy while his mother watched from a distance. The child was having so much fun, not caring at all about money, and not worrying about anything. This child will probably have a safe life, an education, and a loving home environment to grow up in. This must be the way that children should grow up. I say this because this is the way I grew up. And my readers will say this because this is the way they grew up. And this is the way that all children should grow up. Right?