Dear Friends and Family,
The last month has been full of travels, adventures, and profound life lessons. A good friend came to visit and we took a three-week trip to India. After my return to Kathmandu I went to directly to a 10-day Vipassana meditation course that was extremely challenging and rewarding. I feel more and more at home in Nepal and I can’t believe that 7 of my 12 months here have already passed. I anticipate that returning to an Indiana winter will be a challenging transition, but I look forward to catching up with my home community and sharing many lessons, experiences, and photos.
My first semester classes at Kathmandu University finished at the end of June and, in keeping with my secondary title, “Casual Scholar,” I didn’t spend much time worrying about exams. I strongly agree with Rotary’s philosophy that, while I am here in Nepal, my primary job is to be an Ambassador or Goodwill, which means that my time is much better spent creating friendships, serving this community, and traveling around this beautiful, ancient land. I don’t know what the future will bring, but I am certain that I won’t be receiving a degree from KU. I am very comfortable with this, and although my professors would like me to work harder to pass their classes, they seem to understand that my studies are not my primary purpose in Nepal. My second semester classes will begin in 4 days and I look forward to exploring new subject matter with four new professors. I will be taking courses on Nepal’s environmental and development policy, Statistical analysis, and macro and microeconomics.
I left for India on the 1st of July with my Australian friend, Casey Deng, and an Indian friend, Deep Sedai. Deep is from the town of Kalimpong in West Bengal, India. I recently read a novel called, “The Inheritance of Loss,” much of which takes place in and around Kalimpong. The town was a beautiful mix Indian culture with British architecture, all nestled up in the foothills of the Himalayas. In addition to giving us a tour around his home, Deep took Casey and I to his brother’s wedding. The wedding was an amazing example of ancient Nepali traditions and it took place at a rural temple on a hill right on the border between India and Bhutan. Because there was no security or fence, I can now add Bhutan to the list of countries I have visited, albeit for five minutes. I hope to upload some photos very soon.
After Kalimpong, Deep returned to Nepal and Casey and I traveled on to Darjeeling. Because this part of India was recently “acquired” from Nepal, nearly everyone speaks Nepali and I observed many similarities between these two areas. I developed a fever in Darjeeling and stayed in bed for about four days. I was planning to rest for a few more when the hotel manager frantically knocked on the door and informed us that, because the police had just shot a member of the Ghorkaland National Liberation Force (GNLF), a political separatist group, there would be a strike that would leave us without food, transportation, or anything else. Therefore, we had to leave at that moment. I staggered out of bed, packed my bags, and we searched for the elusive jeeps that all seemed to be full of people fleeing the town. When we finally found one, I was happy to be moving again, on our way to a train station for my first Indian train ride.
Unfortunately, there were no seats left on the train to Benares, the next stop on our journey. We had to make the 18-hour journey sitting on the floor of the train. I didn’t mind the ride, but I was relieved to finally reach our destination. The Indian landscape seen from the train door was breathtaking and thought provoking. I saw so many expanses of rice paddies and other agriculture land that was being ploughed with ancient, handmade ploughs and oxen. These scenes looked as if they could have been from one or two hundred years ago. As Casey and I sat in the open door with our legs hanging over the ground flying below our feet, we wondered about safety and regulations. In developed countries, there are many fewer opportunities to die. There are guardrails, flashing lights, laws, people to enforce the laws. Life is very safe and comfortable. In developing countries, there seem to be many more opportunities to die. Safety is not a priority. This results in more unnecessary deaths, but it also lends itself to a more intense and visceral experience of life. As we travel around these countries, everything is always unknown, exciting, never boring. This is a bit exhausting at times, and I appreciate people like food inspectors and police offers in my own country. It seems that as countries achieve greater levels of development, they have more rules and restrictions and, in some respects, life becomes a bit duller. An interesting paradox.
The town of Benares was incredible. The expansive, winding maze of tiny streets is full of cows, religious pilgrims, and vendors of everything from tea and t-shirts to haircuts and hashish. A doctor quickly diagnosed me with an upper respiratory infection and I started my daily regimen of antibiotics. The city of Benares is famous for the massive Ganges River that flows slowly by the dozens of ancient temples and burning ghats on the eastern bank. The ghats are where two to three hundred Hindus are cremated every day and they are burning from morning till night. Casey and I took an early morning boat ride on the Ganges and, despite the fact that the river is the only sewage management plan for many cities along the banks, and the bodies floating in the water, we decided to go for a swim. This is an ancient tradition that all religious pilgrims must perform in order to wash away their sins. I’m pretty certain that we were dirtier after the dip. In many developing countries, waste management is a very serious problem. The Bagmati River running through the center of Kathmandu is also supposed to be a holy river, but it, too, is the cities only sewage management plan. The sewage from most of the houses in the valley runs directly into the river, untreated. When approaching the river from any direction, you can smell the stench from half a kilometer away. A number of factors are impeding progress on these issues. First of all, due to a collective feeling that it must be the responsibility of someone else, few people are willing or interested in taking action on these issues. The sheer size of the problem is also overwhelming: in both the Ganges and Bagmati, the waste of millions of people is pouring into the rivers every day. Additionally, weak environmental policies, political instability, and giant, corrupt, and bureaucracy-laden governments make the design and implementation of effective policies very difficult. As they dismissively say in Nepali, “Ke Garne?” (What can be done?)
My time in India ended with a 12 hour train ride to Delhi, and on that ride we actually had beds in a sleeper car! As soon as our train arrived (an hour late) we hopped in a taxi for a mad rush to the airport. Although I missed my flight, a friendly woman at the airport put me on the next one for no extra cost. Thank you friendly lady! Casey and I had a fast and tearful goodbye as I quickly filled out my customs form and ran to the plane. She headed back to Australia and I went to my meditation course in Kathmandu. The course began that afternoon and I had to go directly from the airport to the meditation center.
As soon as I arrived at the Dharmashringa Vipassana Meditation center, I had to turn in my passport, paper, pens, books, phone, camera, and any other valuables, forms of entertainment, or snacks I might have. I could only have my clothing. On the second morning I and the other 150 meditators took vows of silence and agreed to abide by five precepts: no killing, lying, stealing, sex, or intoxicants. Easy enough. From the first day we began meditating for 10 hours per day and I quickly understood that this would be a very difficult experience. My legs and back began aching, but as the teacher explained, this is exactly the same experience that every meditator has had throughout history. The purpose of the technique is to learn to observe all sensations objectively and with equanimity. After 10 days of practicing this technique I feel that I am much more peaceful and that I am better prepared to deal with life’s challenges. I am now sitting to meditate for one hour every morning and every evening. These Vipassana centers are all over the world and there are a few in the U.S. I would highly recommend the course to anyone interested in learning more about the nature of suffering and mind.
Now I’m back in Kathmandu, sitting in the kitchen of my friend, Paul Sparks, preparing for a short weekend trip to the town of Nagarkot. I've been missing all the great people I was meditating with, and who I didn't get a chance to talk to until after 10 days of sitting together all day every day. But as they repeat over and over in the course, everything is Anicha (Impermanent). Everything in the universe is constantly changing. Thanks all for reading my blog and sending your love. I can’t wait to get back to the US to share more photos, lessons, and experiences.
May everyone be happy!
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Educational School Trip or Wild Party?
My life here is becoming routine. This brings a sense of ease and comfort, but it also carries with it a feeling of restlessness. My classes will wrap up this month, but because I don't have to pass the classes, I cannot share in the frantic, end of semester-oh-my-god-I-have-to-study hysteria. I have enjoyed most of my classes and I've learned much about the dynamic and confusing field of international development. My most important lesson has been that this field is so complex and difficult to understand that it will take years for me to get a handle on it. I have also realized that in order to understand the nature of development I need to have a much better understand of economics and statistics. Daunting.
A couple weeks ago my classmates and I were very excited for our first class trip/field visit to learn about hydroelectric projects, landfills, a proposed airport site, and each other. We left Kathmandu early one morning and drove for about 12 hours to the Kaligandaki Hydropower Project. The bus full of 17 students and one advisor wound its way through the mountains, along narrow roads that sometimes dropped sharply down 100s of feet to the rocks and rivers below. We sang songs, danced, and napped until we finally reached the small town where we would be staying. The "organization" of the trip was hilarious and very characteristic of Nepali society. When we arrived, the sun was setting and no one was sure where we would stay, what we would do, or if there was food available. But nobody worried. Instead, we found a little tea shop, ordered snacks, and danced to cellphone MP3s until some of the senior members of our class informed us that everything had been taken care of.
The next morning we traveled 10 minutes down to the Kaligandaki River, home to Nepal's largest hydropower project. The facility was incredible. I gained an entirely new appreciation for engineering projects and I'm actually looking forward to going back to the U.S. to visit the Hoover Dam. This project provides Nepal with most of its electricity, which is certainly a great advantage. However, we were approaching the dam with our Environmental Impact Assessment and Natural Resource Management classes. As the dam diverts nearly 50 kilometers of the river and leaves it bone dry for half the year, the environmental impacts are considerable. Unfortunately we didn't have a lot of time to spend at the site, so we didn't get to ask many questions about the actual social and environmental impacts of the dam's construction.
After having breakfast (dal, bhat, tarkari, the usual) we began traveling back toward the giant tourist town of Pokhara. We were supposed to visit a number of different projects in and around Pokhara, but since none of our professors showed up for the trip and the only advisor was really just a secretary who has no background in our courses, we spent the rest of our time boating on Begnas Tal, a beautiful, clean lake, and dancing at some of Pokhara's famous bars in the evenings. The trip was a lot of fun, but we didn't learn much. The only complaining I heard was from a girl who drank too much wine one night. I'm told that future trips will be much better organized and that we will spend most of our time learning. I'll let you know.
Paul Sparks, a good friend from my days at Manchester College, arrived in Kathmandu about two weeks. ago. He has been staying with me as a settles into the city and begins his internship with an NGO (non-governmental organization). From the first day I met him, Paul shocked and inspired me with his Los Angeles vernacular (What's up homeboy?) and endless, memorized recitations of poetry from Rumi, philosophy from Camus, and his own inspring songs and poems. His atheist, marxist, Church of the Brethren perspectives gave a special flavor to me early college years on the first floor of Garver mens' residence hall. Four years have passed since Paul and I lived in the same state and I am amazed at our common thoughts on development, economics, spirituality, and life. I'm so relieved to finally understand what he's talking about and even to offer him some food for thought.
That's all for now. Thanks for reading.
PS: I'm becoming conversational in Nepali, more tolerable while practicing my flute, and my family just purchased plane tickets from Chicago to Kathmandu for August 15. Right on.
A couple weeks ago my classmates and I were very excited for our first class trip/field visit to learn about hydroelectric projects, landfills, a proposed airport site, and each other. We left Kathmandu early one morning and drove for about 12 hours to the Kaligandaki Hydropower Project. The bus full of 17 students and one advisor wound its way through the mountains, along narrow roads that sometimes dropped sharply down 100s of feet to the rocks and rivers below. We sang songs, danced, and napped until we finally reached the small town where we would be staying. The "organization" of the trip was hilarious and very characteristic of Nepali society. When we arrived, the sun was setting and no one was sure where we would stay, what we would do, or if there was food available. But nobody worried. Instead, we found a little tea shop, ordered snacks, and danced to cellphone MP3s until some of the senior members of our class informed us that everything had been taken care of.
The next morning we traveled 10 minutes down to the Kaligandaki River, home to Nepal's largest hydropower project. The facility was incredible. I gained an entirely new appreciation for engineering projects and I'm actually looking forward to going back to the U.S. to visit the Hoover Dam. This project provides Nepal with most of its electricity, which is certainly a great advantage. However, we were approaching the dam with our Environmental Impact Assessment and Natural Resource Management classes. As the dam diverts nearly 50 kilometers of the river and leaves it bone dry for half the year, the environmental impacts are considerable. Unfortunately we didn't have a lot of time to spend at the site, so we didn't get to ask many questions about the actual social and environmental impacts of the dam's construction.
After having breakfast (dal, bhat, tarkari, the usual) we began traveling back toward the giant tourist town of Pokhara. We were supposed to visit a number of different projects in and around Pokhara, but since none of our professors showed up for the trip and the only advisor was really just a secretary who has no background in our courses, we spent the rest of our time boating on Begnas Tal, a beautiful, clean lake, and dancing at some of Pokhara's famous bars in the evenings. The trip was a lot of fun, but we didn't learn much. The only complaining I heard was from a girl who drank too much wine one night. I'm told that future trips will be much better organized and that we will spend most of our time learning. I'll let you know.
Paul Sparks, a good friend from my days at Manchester College, arrived in Kathmandu about two weeks. ago. He has been staying with me as a settles into the city and begins his internship with an NGO (non-governmental organization). From the first day I met him, Paul shocked and inspired me with his Los Angeles vernacular (What's up homeboy?) and endless, memorized recitations of poetry from Rumi, philosophy from Camus, and his own inspring songs and poems. His atheist, marxist, Church of the Brethren perspectives gave a special flavor to me early college years on the first floor of Garver mens' residence hall. Four years have passed since Paul and I lived in the same state and I am amazed at our common thoughts on development, economics, spirituality, and life. I'm so relieved to finally understand what he's talking about and even to offer him some food for thought.
That's all for now. Thanks for reading.
PS: I'm becoming conversational in Nepali, more tolerable while practicing my flute, and my family just purchased plane tickets from Chicago to Kathmandu for August 15. Right on.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Political Unrest and Rice Planting
On May 3rd Nepal's Prime Minister, known by his Maoist code-name "Prachanda", fired the Army Chief due to a disagreement about incorporating Maoist Rebel Fighters into the country's national army. The army was engaged in a violent battle with the Maoists for a decade and only recently is the country enjoying peace. However, the next day the Army Chief was reinstated by the President of the country, who actually has power over the military. That day the Prime Minister stepped down. Now the country has no clear leader and since then, busloads of Maoists have been coming from the rural areas of Nepal to demonstrate and protest in the city. I am amazed at the response of the Nepali people. I imagine that in a similar situation in a Western country, there would be some kind of chaos. We like to know who is leading our country. But perhaps people in Nepal are very accustomed to chaos and, prime minister or no prime minister, everyone goes on with business as usual. I asked my friends about this and they said that it happens all the time. The don't have any expectations of political stability.
There is a lot of infighting amongst the political parties, many of whom seem to be very self-interested, while many others are trying to satisfy the very diverse needs of their constituents. Thus far, the protests have been peaceful, but there does not seem to be a clear end in sight. I will keep you updated as I learn more.
I recently took a trip with three Nepali friends to a small mud and stone house in a small, mountain village north of Kathmandu. We had to walk uphill, carrying all our rice, lentils, and potatoes for about five hours to reach the house, which is owned by Guru Dev. This spiritual teacher used to be a wandering holy man who spent 22 years of his life living alone in this hut. Now he runs an ashram and school and he has a large following of devotees in the Kathmandu area. He allows anyone to go and stay in house in order to practice meditation in a peaceful environment, far from the city. It was a difficult experience and it made me realize that I am quite weak and reliant on others for so many of daily needs. I don't think I would survive for long alone up in the mountains. I was very appreciative of my Nepali friends' expertise in cooking on an indoor, open fire. Every meal was a delicious, heaping mound of hot rice, lentils, and curried vegetables. We spent our days collecting firewood, walking down the mountain about 15 minutes to buy buffalo milk from an old woman twice a day, and digging a big hole as a compost pit for the hut. I had some amazing conversations with the villagers in the area and I even visited a school that had received a lot of benefit from Rotary!
Three days ago I had another unexpected vacation from school, so I took a three day bicycle trip to different towns around the Kathmandu valley. I went alone so that I could more easily make friends and interact with local people. This decision turned out to be very fruitful. Everywhere I went I was greeted with smiles and invitations for tea. I saw so many beautiful scenes of mountain and village life and I even spent an afternoon planting rice with women in the small village of Soontan. After a long and bumpy ride down a mountain road that was paved with small jagged boulders, I was so happy to finally see pavement again. I quickly rode past the women, dressed in their bright red traditional clothes, knee deep in mud, quickly but carefully pushing plant after plant into the muddy water. I have long been interested in the cultivation of rice, so I turned my bike around and rode back to ask about the process. Two minutes later my boots were off and I was knee deep in mud, clumsily trying to plant a handful of the small starts. The women thought it was hilarious and they immediately began asking if I was married and if I wanted to marry a Nepali girl. After finishing that field and planting one more in a rainstorm, the women took me back to their home, where they live as a joined family, with all the uncles, aunts, and cousins in the same block of houses. I enjoyed a wonderful dinner with them and I slept in the room of a boy named Kedar. His family is from one of the higher castes in Nepal, and they seem to be having some great success with their agriculture. They own a lot of land and now all of the cousins are studying in good schools and going on to higher education. The family's prosperity will most likely lead to an end of their agricultural practices as they transition into the modern age. We spent about an hour that night trading MP3s of my American songs from my USB drive and in exchange I received several hundred Nepali and Hindi songs! That is not what I expected to find in a small, farming village. I promised that I would definitely be back in four months for the rice harvest.
The next day I rode down into the ancient town of Panauti. The town was full of beautiful Newari architecture and elaborate wooden temples. I found a Saddhu sitting on the steps of one temple and he beckoned for me to come and sit with him. I was surprised to find that he spoke English quite well and I spent the next couple of hours learning about his life as a wandering, ascetic holy-man. He said that he was orphaned in India by his mother, who was presumably a prostitute, and that his whole life has been very difficult because he has no people to call his own. He just wanders around the world, surviving on the charity of people who believe that they ought to give something to these holy men who sleep at the temples. This man really changed my perception of Saddhus and helped me realize that, despite the long dread-locks, big beards, and lack of any attachments of material possessions, they are still humans that suffer from the same fears, desires, and pains as the rest of us. In fact, this particular Saddhu begged me to take him to the U.S. This was a common theme on my trip through the country. I was asked by at least four different people to take them or their family members to my home. I wasn't sure how to respond to such requests, so I mostly kept silent.
During a slow climb through the remote villages between Panauti and Kathmanu, I gained a clearer perspective on the beauty and hardship of living in such a rural area. Although the houses in that area are connected to the electric grid, many of the children must walk along the muddy dirt road for nearly an hour to reach their school. Access to transportation is limited to maybe one or two buses that pass each day, and it would be extremely difficult to get any kind of emergency medical services. After reaching the rim of the Kathmandu valley, I began the adrenaline-ruch of a downhill ride toward the city. The road was muddy and steep and my brakes were in poor condition. I survived the ride and rode into Kathmandu feeling exhausted but gratified.
Classes are wrapping up soon and on Thursday of the coming week I'll be taking a four-day class trip to learn more about Natural Resource Management and Environmental Impact Assessments. My good friend Paul Sparks, who graduated from Manchester College one year before me, will be arriving in the city on June 1st and he will be staying with me for a few days. Around the beginning of July I'm planning to spend about two weeks traveling around India!
That's all for now. Thanks again for reading. I just posted 10 new pictures.
There is a lot of infighting amongst the political parties, many of whom seem to be very self-interested, while many others are trying to satisfy the very diverse needs of their constituents. Thus far, the protests have been peaceful, but there does not seem to be a clear end in sight. I will keep you updated as I learn more.
I recently took a trip with three Nepali friends to a small mud and stone house in a small, mountain village north of Kathmandu. We had to walk uphill, carrying all our rice, lentils, and potatoes for about five hours to reach the house, which is owned by Guru Dev. This spiritual teacher used to be a wandering holy man who spent 22 years of his life living alone in this hut. Now he runs an ashram and school and he has a large following of devotees in the Kathmandu area. He allows anyone to go and stay in house in order to practice meditation in a peaceful environment, far from the city. It was a difficult experience and it made me realize that I am quite weak and reliant on others for so many of daily needs. I don't think I would survive for long alone up in the mountains. I was very appreciative of my Nepali friends' expertise in cooking on an indoor, open fire. Every meal was a delicious, heaping mound of hot rice, lentils, and curried vegetables. We spent our days collecting firewood, walking down the mountain about 15 minutes to buy buffalo milk from an old woman twice a day, and digging a big hole as a compost pit for the hut. I had some amazing conversations with the villagers in the area and I even visited a school that had received a lot of benefit from Rotary!
Three days ago I had another unexpected vacation from school, so I took a three day bicycle trip to different towns around the Kathmandu valley. I went alone so that I could more easily make friends and interact with local people. This decision turned out to be very fruitful. Everywhere I went I was greeted with smiles and invitations for tea. I saw so many beautiful scenes of mountain and village life and I even spent an afternoon planting rice with women in the small village of Soontan. After a long and bumpy ride down a mountain road that was paved with small jagged boulders, I was so happy to finally see pavement again. I quickly rode past the women, dressed in their bright red traditional clothes, knee deep in mud, quickly but carefully pushing plant after plant into the muddy water. I have long been interested in the cultivation of rice, so I turned my bike around and rode back to ask about the process. Two minutes later my boots were off and I was knee deep in mud, clumsily trying to plant a handful of the small starts. The women thought it was hilarious and they immediately began asking if I was married and if I wanted to marry a Nepali girl. After finishing that field and planting one more in a rainstorm, the women took me back to their home, where they live as a joined family, with all the uncles, aunts, and cousins in the same block of houses. I enjoyed a wonderful dinner with them and I slept in the room of a boy named Kedar. His family is from one of the higher castes in Nepal, and they seem to be having some great success with their agriculture. They own a lot of land and now all of the cousins are studying in good schools and going on to higher education. The family's prosperity will most likely lead to an end of their agricultural practices as they transition into the modern age. We spent about an hour that night trading MP3s of my American songs from my USB drive and in exchange I received several hundred Nepali and Hindi songs! That is not what I expected to find in a small, farming village. I promised that I would definitely be back in four months for the rice harvest.
The next day I rode down into the ancient town of Panauti. The town was full of beautiful Newari architecture and elaborate wooden temples. I found a Saddhu sitting on the steps of one temple and he beckoned for me to come and sit with him. I was surprised to find that he spoke English quite well and I spent the next couple of hours learning about his life as a wandering, ascetic holy-man. He said that he was orphaned in India by his mother, who was presumably a prostitute, and that his whole life has been very difficult because he has no people to call his own. He just wanders around the world, surviving on the charity of people who believe that they ought to give something to these holy men who sleep at the temples. This man really changed my perception of Saddhus and helped me realize that, despite the long dread-locks, big beards, and lack of any attachments of material possessions, they are still humans that suffer from the same fears, desires, and pains as the rest of us. In fact, this particular Saddhu begged me to take him to the U.S. This was a common theme on my trip through the country. I was asked by at least four different people to take them or their family members to my home. I wasn't sure how to respond to such requests, so I mostly kept silent.
During a slow climb through the remote villages between Panauti and Kathmanu, I gained a clearer perspective on the beauty and hardship of living in such a rural area. Although the houses in that area are connected to the electric grid, many of the children must walk along the muddy dirt road for nearly an hour to reach their school. Access to transportation is limited to maybe one or two buses that pass each day, and it would be extremely difficult to get any kind of emergency medical services. After reaching the rim of the Kathmandu valley, I began the adrenaline-ruch of a downhill ride toward the city. The road was muddy and steep and my brakes were in poor condition. I survived the ride and rode into Kathmandu feeling exhausted but gratified.
Classes are wrapping up soon and on Thursday of the coming week I'll be taking a four-day class trip to learn more about Natural Resource Management and Environmental Impact Assessments. My good friend Paul Sparks, who graduated from Manchester College one year before me, will be arriving in the city on June 1st and he will be staying with me for a few days. Around the beginning of July I'm planning to spend about two weeks traveling around India!
That's all for now. Thanks again for reading. I just posted 10 new pictures.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Earth Day, Godam Chaur, and Caring
Earth Day
Earth Day fell on my own dear mother's birthday this year (maybe it does every year). I decided to skip my class at KU in order to attend an Earth Day celebration for the street children in Kathmandu. I rode my bicycle to Basantapur, one of Kathmandu's oldest, most beautiful Royal Palace Squares, and joined a large group of young people as they drew earthy pictures with paint, pencils and crayons. I learned so much about the reality of the street childrens' lives and the services that are available for them.
I also met, Gita, a woman who works for an agency that offers food, shelter, and educational and medical services to the kids on the street. Her job is to walk around the little neighborhood where the kids spend their time, break up fights, and take any weapons or drugs from them. There is a big problem with the kids sniffing fumes from adhesives. She works 10 hours per day, makes very little money, had a bandaid on her finger from a bite wound, and also drives a taxi at night so she can have enough money to send her own two kids to school. She was always smiling and she knows about 140 kids names.
Godam Chaur
Kiwako, a Japanese woman who lives in the same building where I am staying, and her Nepali boyfriend, Rashin, invited me to visit a village that lies about an hour south of Kathmandu (travelling by bicycle). About five years ago they met a family from the village and they have had an amazing relationship ever since. The family is from the untouchable caste and when Rashin first asked if he could have tea with them, the family's first question was whether, being from a higher caste, he would be allowed to drink tea made by their hands. These divisions between castes are still strongly upheld by many high caste Nepalis, particularly in rural areas. I have found that in Kathmandu, especially among my generation, people are disregarding the caste system and trying to embrace everyone more equally. This is a very slow process.
During my four-hour stay with the family I enjoyed some limited communication using my slowly developing skills in the Nepali language. Although the depth of conversation was probably not very impressive, they appreciated my effort and went to great lengths to be sure that I was comfortable in their modest home made of mud, stones, and bamboo. Their newly-wed son's wife made tea, rice, lentils, and vegetables for my two friends and I and the food was absolutely delicious. She prepared everything over an open fire in the small, dark kitchen. This cooking system is very common in rural areas around the world and I recently read from the book, "Readings in Human Development" that this kind of air pollution leads to approximately 1.8 million premature deaths every year. Kiwako and Rashin have been working with the family to increase their access to services like running water and they hope to find a way to install an effective ventilation system in the kitchen. On our next visit we might also help them install a water tap so that they don't have to walk so far to fill their buckets.
Caring and Friendship
I recently read another article called "The Invisible Heart: Care and the Global Economy." Fortunately, I even found a link online! http://hdr.undp.org/en/media/hdr_1999_ch3.pdf
I want to give a short summary of this article, but please take the time to read it and let me know what you think. As I understand it, the article is saying that the world's current economic practices are bad for families, they discourage care, and ultimately these practices are counter productive, even from an economic perspective. The economic practices that accompany globalization tend to focus primarily on income, employment, and education, but neglect the importance of people caring for one another. This includes caring for children, the elderly, the ill, and anyone else, young or old, who needs care. As the world becomes more competitive, people have less time for one another and often women have to carry a double load, working outside the home for supplementary income and then doing all the cooking, cleaning, and childcare that they have traditionally been expected to do. There has also be a tendency to privatize care, allowing private companies to care for our children, the sick, and the elderly.
These circumstances have created a serious decline in the amount and the quality of care that people are receiving. This leads to entire generations of children who are resentful, unproductive, and unable to offer care to others. Caring for people has become much less important than efficiency and generating income. Because caring for sick children doesn't immediately increase GDP or company profits, parents are often penalized for taking time off from work to care for the their families. This is having some really devastating impacts on most of the world.
However, some EU countries recognized the value and importance of care early on, and they accounted for this using policy and market based solutions. People pay very high taxes and the government requires all companies to give maternity and paternity leave to their employees. Mothers can be compensated for up to one year in some countries! If you read the article, you'll see the rest of the statistics on policies that encourage care. Very encouraging.
My personal experiences and observations in the USA lead me to believe that care is also becoming much less important at home. I feel like I received adequate care from my family, but they spent much of my childhood working. At school I received an education from teachers who were poorly paid. Most of my teachers were not expected to care for their students, nor did they bother to offer us much. I imagine that many of my country's problems could be solved with a bit more care at home. And in order for that to happen, huge reforms in economic and government policies need to take place. I'll try to be optimistic.
How has this dearth of care affected me? And how does it manifest in Nepal? The reality of this Invisible Heart is becoming painfully clear. I resent care. This a strong statement. It's not something I'm proud of, and I'm trying to learn to accept care, but it is the truth. This is how I know: I estimate that, since arriving in Nepal, I have met 20 young men who were really, really excited to meet me. They were so eager to shake my hand for five minutes while bubbling over with enthusiasm about how much time we would spend together during my time in Nepal and being certain to get my email, phone number, address, and any other pertinent information. In short, they are very warm and friendly. This inevitabley leads to me receiving lots of text messages that say things like, "I really really miss you! Please call soon!"
The first few times I received such messages, my initial mental reaction was, "What the hell do you mean? I met you for four minutes yesterday, how can you possible miss me?" I resented these messages partly because I seriously doubted their honesty, and partly because they seemed incredibly inefficient. If I send little text messages every day to all the friends I've met since arriving in Nepal, I would need to set aside an hour or two per day. But now I realize that Nepalis interpret the word "miss" very differently, and their intentions are really quite beautiful and pure. I am interacting with a generation of youth who were extremely well cared for by their families. Their relationships with their mothers, fathers, siblings, and all their other friends and family, have been the most important part of their lives. They love to be with people and they are always so eager to share everything that they have: food, feelings, stories, beds, etc. As my American readers know, we do things differently in the U.S. I need to spend at least 6-12 months with someone before I send them a message that says that I miss them. And even then, I would hesitate to share a bed with the person.
I feel like my own American generation can be characterized by our sense of social awkwardness. It's no wonder that so many young people feel that they can't get together without drugs or alcohol. What would they talk about? What would they do? We don't understand care because so many of us have received so little of it. In more caring societies, young people get together and...it's hard to describe exactly what they do, but it is a constant process of subconsciously showing their care and affection for one another. Although my own parents were often very busy, I think they did a great job of making time for my brother and me. I am learning to appreciate this now as I am living in a society of people who really know how to care for one another. So I am trying to be more open. I sometimes feel strange and awkward when spending time with my Nepali friends. They know how to be together, to just sit and enjoy each others' company. I am trying to learn from them.
I try to respond to my many text messages with reciprocal words such as, "Thank you so much for thinking of me! I miss you too!" This isn't entirely honest inasmuch as my American English and culture are concerned. However, this is an honest projection of what I want my world to look like. I want my friends and family to spend more time thinking about each other than about themselves. And I want to spend more time in the same way. Rotary's motto is "Service about Self." I don't know that I've ever met anyone in the U.S. who really lives this ideal. This is ironic because we are supposed to be one of the richest and most successful nations in world. But in Nepal, supposedly one of the poorest countries in the world, many people spend much more time thinking about others than about themselves.
Nepali culture in Kathmandu is changing with globalization. Many parents now have to work very long hours for very low pay, leaving their children alone with no care. There has been a serious rise in the incidents of youths perpetrating crime in the city. I see that many of them are much more restless, violent, and angry than their peers in the villages who spend most of their time at home with their families.
So, I am trying to learn about friendship and caring. I am trying to learn how to be a real friend to my many Nepali friends. I don't think there are any books on this, so it's not an easy journey. Basically, I'm trying to remain open to whatever comes. When a new friend calls and invites me to his family's home, or to a cultural event, or anywhere else, I try to always say yes. Often when this happens, I had other plans. But my plans are often just for me: read a book, meditate, cook dinner at home, so it's easy to change them. So far, almost every time that I let go of my own desires and I allow my caring Nepali friends to teach me about their lives, I have incredible experiences. The most difficult part of these experiences is the vulnerability. If I let someone else make plans for me, lead me around the city, then I am allowing them to be in control. I am learning to accept this and to be happy with it.
Thank you for reading my blog. Apparently I have some friends and family who care about me, and who know something about care. Send me some feedback, or just send a message to someone you care about. Thanks!
Earth Day fell on my own dear mother's birthday this year (maybe it does every year). I decided to skip my class at KU in order to attend an Earth Day celebration for the street children in Kathmandu. I rode my bicycle to Basantapur, one of Kathmandu's oldest, most beautiful Royal Palace Squares, and joined a large group of young people as they drew earthy pictures with paint, pencils and crayons. I learned so much about the reality of the street childrens' lives and the services that are available for them.
I also met, Gita, a woman who works for an agency that offers food, shelter, and educational and medical services to the kids on the street. Her job is to walk around the little neighborhood where the kids spend their time, break up fights, and take any weapons or drugs from them. There is a big problem with the kids sniffing fumes from adhesives. She works 10 hours per day, makes very little money, had a bandaid on her finger from a bite wound, and also drives a taxi at night so she can have enough money to send her own two kids to school. She was always smiling and she knows about 140 kids names.
Godam Chaur
Kiwako, a Japanese woman who lives in the same building where I am staying, and her Nepali boyfriend, Rashin, invited me to visit a village that lies about an hour south of Kathmandu (travelling by bicycle). About five years ago they met a family from the village and they have had an amazing relationship ever since. The family is from the untouchable caste and when Rashin first asked if he could have tea with them, the family's first question was whether, being from a higher caste, he would be allowed to drink tea made by their hands. These divisions between castes are still strongly upheld by many high caste Nepalis, particularly in rural areas. I have found that in Kathmandu, especially among my generation, people are disregarding the caste system and trying to embrace everyone more equally. This is a very slow process.
During my four-hour stay with the family I enjoyed some limited communication using my slowly developing skills in the Nepali language. Although the depth of conversation was probably not very impressive, they appreciated my effort and went to great lengths to be sure that I was comfortable in their modest home made of mud, stones, and bamboo. Their newly-wed son's wife made tea, rice, lentils, and vegetables for my two friends and I and the food was absolutely delicious. She prepared everything over an open fire in the small, dark kitchen. This cooking system is very common in rural areas around the world and I recently read from the book, "Readings in Human Development" that this kind of air pollution leads to approximately 1.8 million premature deaths every year. Kiwako and Rashin have been working with the family to increase their access to services like running water and they hope to find a way to install an effective ventilation system in the kitchen. On our next visit we might also help them install a water tap so that they don't have to walk so far to fill their buckets.
Caring and Friendship
I recently read another article called "The Invisible Heart: Care and the Global Economy." Fortunately, I even found a link online! http://hdr.undp.org/en/media/hdr_1999_ch3.pdf
I want to give a short summary of this article, but please take the time to read it and let me know what you think. As I understand it, the article is saying that the world's current economic practices are bad for families, they discourage care, and ultimately these practices are counter productive, even from an economic perspective. The economic practices that accompany globalization tend to focus primarily on income, employment, and education, but neglect the importance of people caring for one another. This includes caring for children, the elderly, the ill, and anyone else, young or old, who needs care. As the world becomes more competitive, people have less time for one another and often women have to carry a double load, working outside the home for supplementary income and then doing all the cooking, cleaning, and childcare that they have traditionally been expected to do. There has also be a tendency to privatize care, allowing private companies to care for our children, the sick, and the elderly.
These circumstances have created a serious decline in the amount and the quality of care that people are receiving. This leads to entire generations of children who are resentful, unproductive, and unable to offer care to others. Caring for people has become much less important than efficiency and generating income. Because caring for sick children doesn't immediately increase GDP or company profits, parents are often penalized for taking time off from work to care for the their families. This is having some really devastating impacts on most of the world.
However, some EU countries recognized the value and importance of care early on, and they accounted for this using policy and market based solutions. People pay very high taxes and the government requires all companies to give maternity and paternity leave to their employees. Mothers can be compensated for up to one year in some countries! If you read the article, you'll see the rest of the statistics on policies that encourage care. Very encouraging.
My personal experiences and observations in the USA lead me to believe that care is also becoming much less important at home. I feel like I received adequate care from my family, but they spent much of my childhood working. At school I received an education from teachers who were poorly paid. Most of my teachers were not expected to care for their students, nor did they bother to offer us much. I imagine that many of my country's problems could be solved with a bit more care at home. And in order for that to happen, huge reforms in economic and government policies need to take place. I'll try to be optimistic.
How has this dearth of care affected me? And how does it manifest in Nepal? The reality of this Invisible Heart is becoming painfully clear. I resent care. This a strong statement. It's not something I'm proud of, and I'm trying to learn to accept care, but it is the truth. This is how I know: I estimate that, since arriving in Nepal, I have met 20 young men who were really, really excited to meet me. They were so eager to shake my hand for five minutes while bubbling over with enthusiasm about how much time we would spend together during my time in Nepal and being certain to get my email, phone number, address, and any other pertinent information. In short, they are very warm and friendly. This inevitabley leads to me receiving lots of text messages that say things like, "I really really miss you! Please call soon!"
The first few times I received such messages, my initial mental reaction was, "What the hell do you mean? I met you for four minutes yesterday, how can you possible miss me?" I resented these messages partly because I seriously doubted their honesty, and partly because they seemed incredibly inefficient. If I send little text messages every day to all the friends I've met since arriving in Nepal, I would need to set aside an hour or two per day. But now I realize that Nepalis interpret the word "miss" very differently, and their intentions are really quite beautiful and pure. I am interacting with a generation of youth who were extremely well cared for by their families. Their relationships with their mothers, fathers, siblings, and all their other friends and family, have been the most important part of their lives. They love to be with people and they are always so eager to share everything that they have: food, feelings, stories, beds, etc. As my American readers know, we do things differently in the U.S. I need to spend at least 6-12 months with someone before I send them a message that says that I miss them. And even then, I would hesitate to share a bed with the person.
I feel like my own American generation can be characterized by our sense of social awkwardness. It's no wonder that so many young people feel that they can't get together without drugs or alcohol. What would they talk about? What would they do? We don't understand care because so many of us have received so little of it. In more caring societies, young people get together and...it's hard to describe exactly what they do, but it is a constant process of subconsciously showing their care and affection for one another. Although my own parents were often very busy, I think they did a great job of making time for my brother and me. I am learning to appreciate this now as I am living in a society of people who really know how to care for one another. So I am trying to be more open. I sometimes feel strange and awkward when spending time with my Nepali friends. They know how to be together, to just sit and enjoy each others' company. I am trying to learn from them.
I try to respond to my many text messages with reciprocal words such as, "Thank you so much for thinking of me! I miss you too!" This isn't entirely honest inasmuch as my American English and culture are concerned. However, this is an honest projection of what I want my world to look like. I want my friends and family to spend more time thinking about each other than about themselves. And I want to spend more time in the same way. Rotary's motto is "Service about Self." I don't know that I've ever met anyone in the U.S. who really lives this ideal. This is ironic because we are supposed to be one of the richest and most successful nations in world. But in Nepal, supposedly one of the poorest countries in the world, many people spend much more time thinking about others than about themselves.
Nepali culture in Kathmandu is changing with globalization. Many parents now have to work very long hours for very low pay, leaving their children alone with no care. There has been a serious rise in the incidents of youths perpetrating crime in the city. I see that many of them are much more restless, violent, and angry than their peers in the villages who spend most of their time at home with their families.
So, I am trying to learn about friendship and caring. I am trying to learn how to be a real friend to my many Nepali friends. I don't think there are any books on this, so it's not an easy journey. Basically, I'm trying to remain open to whatever comes. When a new friend calls and invites me to his family's home, or to a cultural event, or anywhere else, I try to always say yes. Often when this happens, I had other plans. But my plans are often just for me: read a book, meditate, cook dinner at home, so it's easy to change them. So far, almost every time that I let go of my own desires and I allow my caring Nepali friends to teach me about their lives, I have incredible experiences. The most difficult part of these experiences is the vulnerability. If I let someone else make plans for me, lead me around the city, then I am allowing them to be in control. I am learning to accept this and to be happy with it.
Thank you for reading my blog. Apparently I have some friends and family who care about me, and who know something about care. Send me some feedback, or just send a message to someone you care about. Thanks!
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Holi War, Visiting Friends, Wild Meditation
Now that my days have become more routine, I am finding fewer exciting topics to write about and less time to write about them. Despite this natural progression, I will try to write at least twice a month from now on. In this episode I will recount the harrowing tale of Nepal's yearly Holi war, a trip to a commune where traditional meditation is turned upside down, a brief visit from a friend I met in Mexico, and some thought provoking lessons from a recent return-trip to Pokhara.
Holi War
The city was dead silent except for the tortured screams of children running in the streets, parents nowhere to be found. Every narrow alleyway became a dangerous gauntlet; the few brave souls who ventured out were quickly targeted and dispatched. Not even the grandparents were safe. The streets were littered with empty, plastic artillery shells. Bands of feral boys roamed the city in search of victims, screaming their victory cry, "Happy Holi!" after every successful attack. It was the 10th of March and all activity in Kathmandu gave way to the annual celebration of Holi.
When I finally worked up the courage to leave my apartment, I was protected by a rain poncho and armed with water balloons and bottles. My mission was to run to the nearest neighborhood shop to pick up some red, colored powder and a packet of water balloons. Within 30 seconds two balloons exploded in front of me, a third landed on my head. The aggressors were quick and had already hidden themselves in their windows, two, three, maybe four stories up. I saw the screaming children, chasing each other with buckets, balloons, and water bottles. The bands of roaming boys came from all directions, smiling, yelling, all painted and soaked. Buckets of water were dumped by unseen persons on rooftops. At any moment one of these boys might run up and cover you with colored powder.
The celebration concerns a story from Hinduism. I have heard that there are various explanations, and here is what Wikipedia says: "
The main day, Holi, also known as Dhulheti, Dhulandi or Dhulendi, is celebrated by people throwing colored powder and colored water at each other. Bonfires are lit the day before, also known as Holika Dahan (death of Holika) or Chhoti Holi (little Holi). The bonfires are lit in memory of the miraculous escape that young Prahlad had when Demoness Holika, sister of Hiranyakashipu, carried him into the fire. Holika was burnt but Prahlad, a staunch devotee of Lord Vishnu, escaped without any injuries due to his unshakable devotion. Holika Dahan is referred to as Kama Dahanam in Andhra Pradesh.
Holi is celebrated at the end of the winter season on the last full moon day of the lunar month Phalguna (February/March), (Phalgun Purnima), which usually falls in the later part of February or March. In 2009, Holi (Dhulandi) was on 11th March and Holika Dahan was on 10th March."
After spending the day roaming the streets, throwing water balloons from my rooftop, and exchanging clouds of powdered paint with the children in my neighborhood, I got on my bicycle and rode for about two hours to spend some time at Osho Tapoban. This international retreat center and commune is just outside the Kathmandu Valley and it based on the teachings of Osho, a controversial religious leader who died in India in 1990. I didn't know much about Osho's teachings or meditations before arriving at Tapoban and the experience was certainly challenging and eye-opening. I decided to stay or a few days in order to experience communal life and to participate in the meditations. In order to participate, I had to purchase two long robes, one maroon-colored for the daytime meditations, and one white for the evening meditation.
Each day there are five meditations, each approximately an hour long, with a longer celebration in the evening. Many of these sessions involved dancing, humming, and during Dynamic Meditation, perhaps the most well-known, everyone is encouraged to express themselves in any way they please, regardless of any social inhibitions. Most people spend this time screaming, yelling, dancing, some cry, others laugh. Some sit silently. For me, this was a revolutionary way to practice meditation. I found that it was actually an extremely effective method of catharsis which led to a previously unknown calmness of mind. I continue to practice the Osho meditations in my apartment, but I keep the volume down.
A couple weeks later I received a message from Eric Rockey, a friend I met while I was living in Sayulita, Mexico. After leaving Mexico, I spent some time couch surfing at Eric's house in Seattle, and he told me that he might be visiting Nepal sometime in the next year. I hosted him in my apartment for a few days and we even took a short return trip to Osho Tapoban. I had an assignment from Kathmandu University to interview a leader, so I decided to Interview Swami Anand Arun, the leader of the commune. Eric and I had a great time participating in the meditations and my interview with Swami Arun was very interesting. I gave a brief presentation on Osho Tapoban and Sw. Arun to my classmates and a few said that they felt inspired to go to the commune to begin practicing Osho's meditations .
I'll end with my most recent excursion, which was an unplanned trip to visit Safal's family in Pokhara again. Safal's brother, Baman, called me one morning last week and told me that I should take another trip to visit him and his family. I told him that I would certainly consider it, but that I should probably stay and go to my classes. Later that morning I received a call from Safal, and he said that he was leaving for his family's home that afternoon! I decided to join him and I'm so glad that I did.
Safal's family was even more friendly and welcoming than the first time I visited. I learned a new phrase from his mother, who would repeat the same question with a smile on her face throughout every day that I spent at the farm, "Nicklai, ke din?" This means, "What can I give you, Nick?" The Nepali people are teaching me the true meaning of generosity. I spent every day feeling full from the time I woke up and had my first cup of steaming milk tea, prepared fresh from the family's cow, to the last heaping plate of Dal Bhat Tarkari (lentil soup, rice, and curried vegetables) before bed. I took full advantage of this peaceful break from the chaos of Kathmandu in order to a lot of reading, writing, and catch-up on school and Rotary presentations. I also took a short trip with Safal and some of his childhood friends to visit a small village called Luan. We traveled by foot and by bus, sitting and bouncing on the rooftop as the bus rolled through a wide, flat river valley, often driving through the river itself.
We saw many people from the rural villages, bathing and washing their clothes in the crystal-clear mountain water, grazing their cows and water buffalos along the banks, and women dressed in brightly colored clothes, working in rice paddies, with water up to their knees. Because this is a generally hazy time of year in Nepal, we only caught a short glimpse of the Himalayas. I can't wait until the late summer season, after the skies have dumped all their monsoon rains and the mountains come into full view.
When we returned to Pokhara, I had the opportunity to spend some time with Baman, Safal's older brother. Baman is a very brilliant, successful, and inspiring teacher of high school students. His English is impeccable, which is especially impressive because he received his education from the government schools that are notorious for teaching sub-standard English. He is very highly motivated and takes advantage of all possible opportunities to teach anything to anyone. I discussed with him his restless energy and where it comes from. At times I felt confused and even frustrated by Baman's constant stream of conversation and inability to sit still or be silent. I asked him about this eternal dissatisfaction and he replied that satisfaction was his greatest enemy. This surprised me because satisfaction is what I am searching for every day. Then Baman told me the story of his family. I will recount an abridged version here, and I apologize for not being able to offer all the heart-wrenching, unbelievable details.
Safal had explained to me on my last trip to Pokhara that his family was quite poor. However, they appear to be quite well off when compared to most rural Nepali families. Baman gave me a much more complete explanation. Baman said that when he was preparing to enter the forth grade, his family did not have enough money to pay the 400 rupee entrance fee (this amounts to less than $10). They asked their family members for money, but they were told that Baman should not continue his education, but should learn how to work on the farm instead. Baman's mother sold her gold wedding necklace and got about 2000 rupees, which they used to send Baman and his siblings to school that year and to purchase a Nanny goat. The goat annually produced offspring which they sold and used to pay for the rest of his education. At that time, Baman's father had almost no money, he was illiterate, and he could only earn about one or two dollars per day by working in the fields of his neighbors. The family had to use this money to purchase food items like salt, cooking, oil, and sugar. Baman said that it was quite rare for the family to be able to afford tea, and that they could only have meat once every year.
Baman devoted all his time to his studies and by the time he was 15 he began tutoring other students who were his age and older. He was so successful at tutoring that his clientele grew exponentially. Before long he had earned enough money to build a small classroom on his parents’ property. His students would then come to him to learn and he began teaching English at a high school when he was 17. His energy, enthusiasm, and genuine interest in the wellbeing of his students have impressed enough people that he was recently hired at one of Pokhara's top private boarding schools. He is making a high salary and, during a visit to the school, I personally witnessed that his students absolutely adore him. Now he and all of his siblings have either completed or are working on a master’s degree. His parents enjoy a happy, comfortable life, and Baman promised his father that he would never have to work in any of his neighbors' fields again. He is supporting his family and has built another room on the property which serves as his own bedroom. He has also been able to purchase a motorcycle to get around the city.
So, why am I different from Baman? I have never had to struggle for anything in my life. I think that is the basic answer. I have worked hard for a few things and that always paid off, but I have never had to struggle like Baman. His ambition gives meaning to his life. It has led to the survival and success of his family. The books on meditation and spirituality that I find so inspiring send a very contrary message: ambition will only lead you away from the present moment, which is the only place where an individual can find happiness. I created some mental suffering for myself because I was trying to reconcile my worldview with Baman's. After a long, emotional talk with him, I realized that we don't have to reconcile our worldviews. We can co-exist independently and joyfully as we live our lives in our unique and beautiful ways.
In other news, I have been spending more time with the Rotarians and Rotaractors of Kathmandu. Just yesterday I had a great time giving a presentation to the Rotaract club of Kathmandu Midtown and I was so inspired by the energy and enthusiasm of these young people. They are involved in so many social service projects and they were genuinely interested in learning about my home and my experiences in Nepal. I even taught them how to play Backgammon as we sipped tea after the meeting. I am planning to visit some of their projects, which include a low-tech, low-cost, highly effective water filtration system that people can use in their homes, distribution of food and clothing to the poorest people in the valley, and the construction of a basketball court at a low-income school.
My classes at Kathmandu University are interesting sometimes, but lately I am spending more time and energy outside of school. I find that the people I meet and places I visit are much more meaningful that learning lots of economic formulas or Nepal's Environmental Impact Assessment Policy. Please leave me some feedback and I'll try to write more soon.
Holi War
The city was dead silent except for the tortured screams of children running in the streets, parents nowhere to be found. Every narrow alleyway became a dangerous gauntlet; the few brave souls who ventured out were quickly targeted and dispatched. Not even the grandparents were safe. The streets were littered with empty, plastic artillery shells. Bands of feral boys roamed the city in search of victims, screaming their victory cry, "Happy Holi!" after every successful attack. It was the 10th of March and all activity in Kathmandu gave way to the annual celebration of Holi.
When I finally worked up the courage to leave my apartment, I was protected by a rain poncho and armed with water balloons and bottles. My mission was to run to the nearest neighborhood shop to pick up some red, colored powder and a packet of water balloons. Within 30 seconds two balloons exploded in front of me, a third landed on my head. The aggressors were quick and had already hidden themselves in their windows, two, three, maybe four stories up. I saw the screaming children, chasing each other with buckets, balloons, and water bottles. The bands of roaming boys came from all directions, smiling, yelling, all painted and soaked. Buckets of water were dumped by unseen persons on rooftops. At any moment one of these boys might run up and cover you with colored powder.
The celebration concerns a story from Hinduism. I have heard that there are various explanations, and here is what Wikipedia says: "
The main day, Holi, also known as Dhulheti, Dhulandi or Dhulendi, is celebrated by people throwing colored powder and colored water at each other. Bonfires are lit the day before, also known as Holika Dahan (death of Holika) or Chhoti Holi (little Holi). The bonfires are lit in memory of the miraculous escape that young Prahlad had when Demoness Holika, sister of Hiranyakashipu, carried him into the fire. Holika was burnt but Prahlad, a staunch devotee of Lord Vishnu, escaped without any injuries due to his unshakable devotion. Holika Dahan is referred to as Kama Dahanam in Andhra Pradesh.
Holi is celebrated at the end of the winter season on the last full moon day of the lunar month Phalguna (February/March), (Phalgun Purnima), which usually falls in the later part of February or March. In 2009, Holi (Dhulandi) was on 11th March and Holika Dahan was on 10th March."
After spending the day roaming the streets, throwing water balloons from my rooftop, and exchanging clouds of powdered paint with the children in my neighborhood, I got on my bicycle and rode for about two hours to spend some time at Osho Tapoban. This international retreat center and commune is just outside the Kathmandu Valley and it based on the teachings of Osho, a controversial religious leader who died in India in 1990. I didn't know much about Osho's teachings or meditations before arriving at Tapoban and the experience was certainly challenging and eye-opening. I decided to stay or a few days in order to experience communal life and to participate in the meditations. In order to participate, I had to purchase two long robes, one maroon-colored for the daytime meditations, and one white for the evening meditation.
Each day there are five meditations, each approximately an hour long, with a longer celebration in the evening. Many of these sessions involved dancing, humming, and during Dynamic Meditation, perhaps the most well-known, everyone is encouraged to express themselves in any way they please, regardless of any social inhibitions. Most people spend this time screaming, yelling, dancing, some cry, others laugh. Some sit silently. For me, this was a revolutionary way to practice meditation. I found that it was actually an extremely effective method of catharsis which led to a previously unknown calmness of mind. I continue to practice the Osho meditations in my apartment, but I keep the volume down.
A couple weeks later I received a message from Eric Rockey, a friend I met while I was living in Sayulita, Mexico. After leaving Mexico, I spent some time couch surfing at Eric's house in Seattle, and he told me that he might be visiting Nepal sometime in the next year. I hosted him in my apartment for a few days and we even took a short return trip to Osho Tapoban. I had an assignment from Kathmandu University to interview a leader, so I decided to Interview Swami Anand Arun, the leader of the commune. Eric and I had a great time participating in the meditations and my interview with Swami Arun was very interesting. I gave a brief presentation on Osho Tapoban and Sw. Arun to my classmates and a few said that they felt inspired to go to the commune to begin practicing Osho's meditations .
I'll end with my most recent excursion, which was an unplanned trip to visit Safal's family in Pokhara again. Safal's brother, Baman, called me one morning last week and told me that I should take another trip to visit him and his family. I told him that I would certainly consider it, but that I should probably stay and go to my classes. Later that morning I received a call from Safal, and he said that he was leaving for his family's home that afternoon! I decided to join him and I'm so glad that I did.
Safal's family was even more friendly and welcoming than the first time I visited. I learned a new phrase from his mother, who would repeat the same question with a smile on her face throughout every day that I spent at the farm, "Nicklai, ke din?" This means, "What can I give you, Nick?" The Nepali people are teaching me the true meaning of generosity. I spent every day feeling full from the time I woke up and had my first cup of steaming milk tea, prepared fresh from the family's cow, to the last heaping plate of Dal Bhat Tarkari (lentil soup, rice, and curried vegetables) before bed. I took full advantage of this peaceful break from the chaos of Kathmandu in order to a lot of reading, writing, and catch-up on school and Rotary presentations. I also took a short trip with Safal and some of his childhood friends to visit a small village called Luan. We traveled by foot and by bus, sitting and bouncing on the rooftop as the bus rolled through a wide, flat river valley, often driving through the river itself.
We saw many people from the rural villages, bathing and washing their clothes in the crystal-clear mountain water, grazing their cows and water buffalos along the banks, and women dressed in brightly colored clothes, working in rice paddies, with water up to their knees. Because this is a generally hazy time of year in Nepal, we only caught a short glimpse of the Himalayas. I can't wait until the late summer season, after the skies have dumped all their monsoon rains and the mountains come into full view.
When we returned to Pokhara, I had the opportunity to spend some time with Baman, Safal's older brother. Baman is a very brilliant, successful, and inspiring teacher of high school students. His English is impeccable, which is especially impressive because he received his education from the government schools that are notorious for teaching sub-standard English. He is very highly motivated and takes advantage of all possible opportunities to teach anything to anyone. I discussed with him his restless energy and where it comes from. At times I felt confused and even frustrated by Baman's constant stream of conversation and inability to sit still or be silent. I asked him about this eternal dissatisfaction and he replied that satisfaction was his greatest enemy. This surprised me because satisfaction is what I am searching for every day. Then Baman told me the story of his family. I will recount an abridged version here, and I apologize for not being able to offer all the heart-wrenching, unbelievable details.
Safal had explained to me on my last trip to Pokhara that his family was quite poor. However, they appear to be quite well off when compared to most rural Nepali families. Baman gave me a much more complete explanation. Baman said that when he was preparing to enter the forth grade, his family did not have enough money to pay the 400 rupee entrance fee (this amounts to less than $10). They asked their family members for money, but they were told that Baman should not continue his education, but should learn how to work on the farm instead. Baman's mother sold her gold wedding necklace and got about 2000 rupees, which they used to send Baman and his siblings to school that year and to purchase a Nanny goat. The goat annually produced offspring which they sold and used to pay for the rest of his education. At that time, Baman's father had almost no money, he was illiterate, and he could only earn about one or two dollars per day by working in the fields of his neighbors. The family had to use this money to purchase food items like salt, cooking, oil, and sugar. Baman said that it was quite rare for the family to be able to afford tea, and that they could only have meat once every year.
Baman devoted all his time to his studies and by the time he was 15 he began tutoring other students who were his age and older. He was so successful at tutoring that his clientele grew exponentially. Before long he had earned enough money to build a small classroom on his parents’ property. His students would then come to him to learn and he began teaching English at a high school when he was 17. His energy, enthusiasm, and genuine interest in the wellbeing of his students have impressed enough people that he was recently hired at one of Pokhara's top private boarding schools. He is making a high salary and, during a visit to the school, I personally witnessed that his students absolutely adore him. Now he and all of his siblings have either completed or are working on a master’s degree. His parents enjoy a happy, comfortable life, and Baman promised his father that he would never have to work in any of his neighbors' fields again. He is supporting his family and has built another room on the property which serves as his own bedroom. He has also been able to purchase a motorcycle to get around the city.
So, why am I different from Baman? I have never had to struggle for anything in my life. I think that is the basic answer. I have worked hard for a few things and that always paid off, but I have never had to struggle like Baman. His ambition gives meaning to his life. It has led to the survival and success of his family. The books on meditation and spirituality that I find so inspiring send a very contrary message: ambition will only lead you away from the present moment, which is the only place where an individual can find happiness. I created some mental suffering for myself because I was trying to reconcile my worldview with Baman's. After a long, emotional talk with him, I realized that we don't have to reconcile our worldviews. We can co-exist independently and joyfully as we live our lives in our unique and beautiful ways.
In other news, I have been spending more time with the Rotarians and Rotaractors of Kathmandu. Just yesterday I had a great time giving a presentation to the Rotaract club of Kathmandu Midtown and I was so inspired by the energy and enthusiasm of these young people. They are involved in so many social service projects and they were genuinely interested in learning about my home and my experiences in Nepal. I even taught them how to play Backgammon as we sipped tea after the meeting. I am planning to visit some of their projects, which include a low-tech, low-cost, highly effective water filtration system that people can use in their homes, distribution of food and clothing to the poorest people in the valley, and the construction of a basketball court at a low-income school.
My classes at Kathmandu University are interesting sometimes, but lately I am spending more time and energy outside of school. I find that the people I meet and places I visit are much more meaningful that learning lots of economic formulas or Nepal's Environmental Impact Assessment Policy. Please leave me some feedback and I'll try to write more soon.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Shiva Ratri & the Saddhu Sleepover
Hello Friends!
Life in Kathmandu continues to be an endless source of surprises, lessons, and challenges. I am getting accustomed to life in the Nepali university system and I I attended a large Rotaract Conference in a town in eastern Nepal where . The 23rd of February was the celebration of Shiva Ratri (the night of Lord Shiva) when hundreds of thousands of devout Hindus from all over Nepal and India visit Nepal's largest Hindu Temple, Pashupatinath. Most recently I took an unexpected hike to the top of a small mountain where I stayed the night with some hermit-like Hindu holy men and three young students of Buddhist meditation.
Safal and I took an afternoon trip to the nearby town of Kirtipur. It is the equivalent of a college town in the U.S., but there are some distinct differences. The town is home to the students of Tribhuvan University, Nepal's largest and only public institution of higher education. The students are from all over Nepal and many of them come from very rural areas. As we walked around the campus, every wall and open patch of concrete was spray painted with Maoist-Communist emblems and political slogans. Safal told me that classes are often disrupted by political unrest and demonstrations and that it is very difficult to get a good education at this school. Nonetheless, it is the only option for most Nepalis. In order to pass a class, a student must pay the professor for extra tutoring outside of class and s/he must purchase special booklets with test questions at an unofficial univeristy bookstore. Fortunately, Kathmandu University is much more organized and legitimate. However, my classes are often subject to last minute cancellation by the professors and just yesterday I learned that all of my classes would be cancelled for the entire week! Now I am making a plan to travel around some of the town in the Kathmandu Valley.
On the 20th of February I took an hour long flight to the town of Biratnagar in order to attend a Rotary Conference. Good fortune or fate placed me in a seat next to a young guy who was going to the same conference! Without him I probably never would have made it to the conference, which was in a town to the north called Dharan Gopal. Due to some political unrest and strikes, the roads were closed to all motorized vehicles, so we hired a couple of Rickshaw drivers to pedal for over an hour to the next town where we could catch a bus. The conference was organized by the Rotaract organization, which is related to Rotary International, but the members of not Rotarians. They are young people ranging in age from 18-30 years old and most of them are wealthy and well-educated. Much of the conference focused on global warming and I was invited to give a 45 minute speech on my scholarship, US culture, and the relationship between my country and Nepal. I tried to offer an alternative perspective to the prevailing understanding of development and explained that the world cannot sustain such rapid growth and industrialization. We must look for simpler, more sustainable models and we are much more likely to find those models in the rural villages of the global East than in the developed cities of the West. The audience of 150 young Nepalis responded with applause, but I got the impression that my call of simplicity fell on deaf ears. In Latin America I saw a similar phenomenon: people get an image of what a "good life" looks like and this idea so often comes from Western popular culture (movies, music videos, magazines, etc.). Most will agree that a simpler life is a nice idea, but very few people in the world seem to be willing to try to live in such a way. I am trying.
I saw some men who seem to be living starkly simple lives during Shiva Ratri. Saddhus are men who have given up their homes and families in order to wander around the country with nothing but a small pot in which to cook their rice and maybe a small bag with a few possessions. I tend to over-romanticize this life, but it really does appeal to me. I am told that many of the Saddhus are just lazy men who couldn't handle the pressures of work and family life and so they just sit at temples and wait for donations from Hindu devotees. However, there are many honest Saddhus who are seeking a more authentic life away from the rat-race of the city. The Saddhus were lined up all over the Pashupatinath temple, some with dread-locks that could be measured with a yardstick and most selling handfuls of marijuana for a few cents. On this day only the government legalizes the sale and consumption of marijuana and its scent was hanging heavily all around the temples. The main streets around the temples were closed and they filled with hundreds of thousands of people, all lining up to visit this ancient, holy historical site.
A few days later my class was unexpectedly cancelled so I decided to take a hike in Shivapuri National Park, north of Kathmandu. I had no destination in mind, but I heard that the park is home to a couple of Buddhist monasteries. I walked for a couple of hours, uphill through beautiful, dense, green jungle before I reached the first of the monasteries, Nagigumba. After sitting for awhile, enjoying my lunch and the amazing view of the Kathmandu valley, I met three guys about my age who were hiking to the top of the mountain in order to stay the night with some Saddhus who had a hut there. They invited me to go along and finally I decided that I might as well. We walked for a few more hours and I learned about their lives in the Dharmashringa Vipassana Center. They volunteer at the center and they have each completed a handful of 10-day courses. They offered some interesting conversation and good, peaceful company on the way to visit the Saddhus. When we finally arrived at the top, we were greeted by two, thin old men with big beards and long dread-locks. The were very welcoming and, though my Nepali is still very basic, we communicated the most important messages through smiles and laughter. They cooked a huge meal of rice and curried vegetables before we all slept in a pile of blankets in their hut made of clay.
On the afternoon that I returned from Shivapuri, I met a young Australian traveler who had been traveling around Southeast Asia for the past 5 months. We became fast friends and spent the next week exploring that Kathmandu valley together. We danced to the music of Kutumba (the band whose music is produced by my landlord and who practices on the first floor of my building) at Momomania. At his delicious little festival we celebrated one of Nepal's most delicious foods. The momo is like a small Chinese dumpling, filled with anything from vegetables to meat to fruit to a sweet paste of milk and nuts. We also went to a Nepali movie theatre for the first time to see Slumdog Millionaire. If you haven't seen it, I recommed it.
Thanks again for reading. I hope to have some more adventures this week and I'll try to post them with some new photos very soon.
Life in Kathmandu continues to be an endless source of surprises, lessons, and challenges. I am getting accustomed to life in the Nepali university system and I I attended a large Rotaract Conference in a town in eastern Nepal where . The 23rd of February was the celebration of Shiva Ratri (the night of Lord Shiva) when hundreds of thousands of devout Hindus from all over Nepal and India visit Nepal's largest Hindu Temple, Pashupatinath. Most recently I took an unexpected hike to the top of a small mountain where I stayed the night with some hermit-like Hindu holy men and three young students of Buddhist meditation.
Safal and I took an afternoon trip to the nearby town of Kirtipur. It is the equivalent of a college town in the U.S., but there are some distinct differences. The town is home to the students of Tribhuvan University, Nepal's largest and only public institution of higher education. The students are from all over Nepal and many of them come from very rural areas. As we walked around the campus, every wall and open patch of concrete was spray painted with Maoist-Communist emblems and political slogans. Safal told me that classes are often disrupted by political unrest and demonstrations and that it is very difficult to get a good education at this school. Nonetheless, it is the only option for most Nepalis. In order to pass a class, a student must pay the professor for extra tutoring outside of class and s/he must purchase special booklets with test questions at an unofficial univeristy bookstore. Fortunately, Kathmandu University is much more organized and legitimate. However, my classes are often subject to last minute cancellation by the professors and just yesterday I learned that all of my classes would be cancelled for the entire week! Now I am making a plan to travel around some of the town in the Kathmandu Valley.
On the 20th of February I took an hour long flight to the town of Biratnagar in order to attend a Rotary Conference. Good fortune or fate placed me in a seat next to a young guy who was going to the same conference! Without him I probably never would have made it to the conference, which was in a town to the north called Dharan Gopal. Due to some political unrest and strikes, the roads were closed to all motorized vehicles, so we hired a couple of Rickshaw drivers to pedal for over an hour to the next town where we could catch a bus. The conference was organized by the Rotaract organization, which is related to Rotary International, but the members of not Rotarians. They are young people ranging in age from 18-30 years old and most of them are wealthy and well-educated. Much of the conference focused on global warming and I was invited to give a 45 minute speech on my scholarship, US culture, and the relationship between my country and Nepal. I tried to offer an alternative perspective to the prevailing understanding of development and explained that the world cannot sustain such rapid growth and industrialization. We must look for simpler, more sustainable models and we are much more likely to find those models in the rural villages of the global East than in the developed cities of the West. The audience of 150 young Nepalis responded with applause, but I got the impression that my call of simplicity fell on deaf ears. In Latin America I saw a similar phenomenon: people get an image of what a "good life" looks like and this idea so often comes from Western popular culture (movies, music videos, magazines, etc.). Most will agree that a simpler life is a nice idea, but very few people in the world seem to be willing to try to live in such a way. I am trying.
I saw some men who seem to be living starkly simple lives during Shiva Ratri. Saddhus are men who have given up their homes and families in order to wander around the country with nothing but a small pot in which to cook their rice and maybe a small bag with a few possessions. I tend to over-romanticize this life, but it really does appeal to me. I am told that many of the Saddhus are just lazy men who couldn't handle the pressures of work and family life and so they just sit at temples and wait for donations from Hindu devotees. However, there are many honest Saddhus who are seeking a more authentic life away from the rat-race of the city. The Saddhus were lined up all over the Pashupatinath temple, some with dread-locks that could be measured with a yardstick and most selling handfuls of marijuana for a few cents. On this day only the government legalizes the sale and consumption of marijuana and its scent was hanging heavily all around the temples. The main streets around the temples were closed and they filled with hundreds of thousands of people, all lining up to visit this ancient, holy historical site.
A few days later my class was unexpectedly cancelled so I decided to take a hike in Shivapuri National Park, north of Kathmandu. I had no destination in mind, but I heard that the park is home to a couple of Buddhist monasteries. I walked for a couple of hours, uphill through beautiful, dense, green jungle before I reached the first of the monasteries, Nagigumba. After sitting for awhile, enjoying my lunch and the amazing view of the Kathmandu valley, I met three guys about my age who were hiking to the top of the mountain in order to stay the night with some Saddhus who had a hut there. They invited me to go along and finally I decided that I might as well. We walked for a few more hours and I learned about their lives in the Dharmashringa Vipassana Center. They volunteer at the center and they have each completed a handful of 10-day courses. They offered some interesting conversation and good, peaceful company on the way to visit the Saddhus. When we finally arrived at the top, we were greeted by two, thin old men with big beards and long dread-locks. The were very welcoming and, though my Nepali is still very basic, we communicated the most important messages through smiles and laughter. They cooked a huge meal of rice and curried vegetables before we all slept in a pile of blankets in their hut made of clay.
On the afternoon that I returned from Shivapuri, I met a young Australian traveler who had been traveling around Southeast Asia for the past 5 months. We became fast friends and spent the next week exploring that Kathmandu valley together. We danced to the music of Kutumba (the band whose music is produced by my landlord and who practices on the first floor of my building) at Momomania. At his delicious little festival we celebrated one of Nepal's most delicious foods. The momo is like a small Chinese dumpling, filled with anything from vegetables to meat to fruit to a sweet paste of milk and nuts. We also went to a Nepali movie theatre for the first time to see Slumdog Millionaire. If you haven't seen it, I recommed it.
Thanks again for reading. I hope to have some more adventures this week and I'll try to post them with some new photos very soon.
Monday, February 16, 2009
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?
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?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)