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!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
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?
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Pokhara
Hello friends,
My trip to Pokhara has been outstanding. Provocative life lessons seem to present themselves to me as often as I will allow them.
The seven-hour bus ride from Kathmandu to Pokhara took me through 200 kilometers of beautiful mountains, terraced fields, and small villages where old Nepali men and women sit in the sun and watch watch their grandchildren play badminton and soccer. I met a woman from Australia and a guy from Denmark and by the time we reached Pokhara we decided that we would all look for rooms in the same hotel. By the end of the night we were joined by a wise and adventurous Spaniard who shared stories from eight years of travel in India, Nepal, and the rest of the world.
After a few days of exploring Pokhara, eating Western-Nepali style meals engineered for hungry, homesick tourists, and attending three Rotary events in three days, Safal Ghimire arrived to show me his Nepal. I met Safal at Kathmandu University, where he is studying for his second year in the program that I am just beginning. He spent the first 20 of his 21 years living with his family on a farm in the outskirts of the ever-expanding Pokhara and he promised that if I ever wanted to visit Pokhara, he would be happy to accompany me. I took a taxi to Safal's home and shared a mountainous plate of daal bat with his family, sitting on the floor of his small kitchen and eating with my hands. This beautiful experience was to be repeated many times in the next few days. Before bed, Safal's whole family walked me to the property next door, which belongs to Safal's uncle. Safal's father has 7 living brothers and sisters and Nepali tradition requires that the father divide his land among his sons. So, Safal's father and his four brothers all live on the same large plot of land that has been in their family for over 200 years. The each have their own cows or buffaloes and they each have a small garden plot which feeds the family. In addition to tending his farm, one of Safal's uncles is a Pujari, or Hindu priest. The whole family and I sat in his small room with walls lined with shelves of ancient Hindu texts. Safal's uncle gave me a blessing and painted the small red Tika on my forehead to indicate the blessing. He told stories and read about the position and significance of the stars of the day of my birth.
Safal's own story is amazing. He has won numerous awards in Nepal for being the finest orator of the Nepali language. Whenever he translates for me, I not only trust that my message is being conveyed accurately, I am certain that my words become even more meaningful and beautiful when they reach the people I wish to communicate with. When he was about 10 years old his father asked him to quit school and to work on the family farm. Since then Safal has paid for all of his education by himself. He led an enormous group of young people dedicated to improving the environmental, social, and political situation in Nepal. He published many articles and poems renouncing the despotic monarchy and fighting for a democratic Nepal. He led street protests and was the target of military gunfire during the dangerous times of curfew before the monarchy fell. He organized a reproductive health education program, wrote a proposal to get a bit of grant money, and traveled with 15 of his friends to remote villages to talk with young people about the very taboo subject of sex and reproductive health. He also wrote, directed, and acted in very provocative street theatre performances to teach sexual and moral values and responsibility to his peers. Now he is studying Human and Natural Resource Management with me and his greatest dream is to travel to the USA to study Peace and Conflict Studies at a prestigious university. I would like to connect him to the program at Notre Dame. If anyone has any contacts that might be able to help Safal, I can think of no more worthy candidate.
The day after I arrived at the Ghimire home, Safal and I departed for the village of Ghachowk, where his mother's brother lives. We walked for three hours along dusty roads, across perilous bridges, and up and down the sides of the river valley. The more we walked, the fewer signs of "development" were visible. We stopped along the way to visit the mother of one of Safal's friends. She lives alone, survives on the foods from a small garden plot, and tends her buffalo. When we arrived she was so excited to offer of some peanuts from her garden and milk tea with milk from her buffalo. We sat and talked for awhile and Safal later told me that she was close to tears because her own boys are looking for work in the city.
Safal and I were warmly welcomed in the Ghachowk. After strolling around and visiting Safal's friends and family in the very remote village of about 3,000 people, we returned to his uncle's home for a big meal of daal bat. From morning till night, everyone is busy cooking, milking, and taking care of all the household chores. On the morning after we arrived, I was able to help out by churning butter. I spent about a half hour sitting in the small kitchen, seated in front of a cylindrical wooden bucket, pulling opposite ends of a rope wrapped around the handle of a paddle. The picture should make more sense than my description.
That morning, word spread that an old man had died in the village. All the men who knew him got together, collected some large pieces of wood, and carried his body to the river. There they made a pile with their wood and burned his body. As we walked out of town, we passed the men gathered around the fire. We stopped for a moment, but then had to keep walking in order to get back to Pokhara for an appointment at a local highschool.
Safal's brother, Baman, invited me to speak to his 9th graders about life in the U.S. I had a great time talking with the class of 50 boys and girls and they asked some good questions about school, tests, and dating in my home country. I also cleared up some misconceptions. They asked me if everyone in the U.S. has to move out of their parents' home when they are 17. They also asked if everyone has lots of money. One significant difference between the school systems in the Nepal and the U.S. is the Nepali focus on values. They aren't so focused on tests and standards so they are able to teach kids about respect, kindness to everyone, and living a moral life. Kids here are incredibly respectful to me all the time. I am humbled by their smiles and I only wish that we had a similar practice at home.
After we left the school, Safal and I boarded a bus for the village of Saiswara. I had another very interesting experience on bus, which was so crowded that three people were hanging out of each of the two doorways and three more were standing on the rear bumper, holding onto anything that would keep them from falling off. Inside, a woman with a child had recently boarded the bus and I offered her my seat on the large spare tire that was lying on the floor. She gratefully accepted and she was then offered a real seat to sit in. Immediately after I exchanged places with the woman, a man said to Safal that he could not bear to see a foreigner, a guest in his country, standing on such a crowded bus. The man got out of his seat and insisted that I sit. In all the homes we visited, Safal and I were treated like kings, though the people we visited had very little money. Safal explained that in Nepal, the guest is always considered to be like God and should be treated as such. After we got off the bus, he told me that the old men on the bus began talking about America. The asked one another whether they thought that a foreigner would be offered a seat on a crowded bus by an American citizen. I am glad that I did not know more Nepali at that point. I would not have liked to have answered that question.
That night brought more warm, intimate conversations with Safal's friend Milan and his family while sharing another large plate of daal bat. We also drank many more cups of milk and curd from the family's buffalo. I asked Milan's father if he was happy with his life and if he needed anything else to be happy. He said that he was quite content with his life. He had plenty of fresh, organic food to eat, he had all the clean water he could use, and he had a house for his family. Another common theme that I heard from each of the houses we visited was that the family's were so honored that someone from America would visit their homes and eat with them. They seemed surprised when I explained that the honor was really mine. Many people also asked me about the promised land of the USA. I told them that there are jobs there, and there is money, but that it isn't like the movies. The truth is that I don't know many people in my country who are really happy, despite having plenty of food, money, cars, and giant houses. The truth is (and I may be projecting my romantic ideas of Eastern culture) that the people on those small farms seemed to more fulfilled, less depressed, less restless, and more generous than 99% of the people I've met at home.
I don't know if we all need to sell all our possessions and begin growing all our own food (but it wouldn't hurt). I am certain, though, that the simplicity of the peoples' lives in rural Nepal allows them to live with a peace unknown to most people in the west. They have to work hard to survive, but there is an indisputable purpose to absolutely everything that they do.
In other news, my classes at Kathmandu University begin on Thursday and today I went to a program to celebrate World Wetlands Day. I had never even heard of this day! But I went to a lake about 20 Km. outside of Kathmandu and found a group of about 50 young people who were there to enjoy the natural beauty, the clean air, and to raise awareness about protecting valuable ecosystems. I decided to join a group of about 20 people who were going on a long hike through the rice paddi fields and forests in the surrounding hills. As we began the walk, I noticed that a young guy tossed some pieces of trash on the ground. This is a huge social problem in Nepal and there is literally trash everywhere. The waste management system leaves much to be desired. I had a plastic bag with me and I made sure to be in the front of the line as I began picking up a few pieces of trash and filling my bag. Within 5 minutes I was joined by an energetic young woman named Mona. After seeing me, she had collected a few more plastic bags and then we began making a bigger dent in the polluted country side. By the end of the three-hour walk, nearly everyone was helping out, villagers thanked us and stared in disbelief, and we had together collected about 20 bags of trash. I think that this action really created some new consciousness among those few people. I hope it will spread!
My trip to Pokhara has been outstanding. Provocative life lessons seem to present themselves to me as often as I will allow them.
The seven-hour bus ride from Kathmandu to Pokhara took me through 200 kilometers of beautiful mountains, terraced fields, and small villages where old Nepali men and women sit in the sun and watch watch their grandchildren play badminton and soccer. I met a woman from Australia and a guy from Denmark and by the time we reached Pokhara we decided that we would all look for rooms in the same hotel. By the end of the night we were joined by a wise and adventurous Spaniard who shared stories from eight years of travel in India, Nepal, and the rest of the world.
After a few days of exploring Pokhara, eating Western-Nepali style meals engineered for hungry, homesick tourists, and attending three Rotary events in three days, Safal Ghimire arrived to show me his Nepal. I met Safal at Kathmandu University, where he is studying for his second year in the program that I am just beginning. He spent the first 20 of his 21 years living with his family on a farm in the outskirts of the ever-expanding Pokhara and he promised that if I ever wanted to visit Pokhara, he would be happy to accompany me. I took a taxi to Safal's home and shared a mountainous plate of daal bat with his family, sitting on the floor of his small kitchen and eating with my hands. This beautiful experience was to be repeated many times in the next few days. Before bed, Safal's whole family walked me to the property next door, which belongs to Safal's uncle. Safal's father has 7 living brothers and sisters and Nepali tradition requires that the father divide his land among his sons. So, Safal's father and his four brothers all live on the same large plot of land that has been in their family for over 200 years. The each have their own cows or buffaloes and they each have a small garden plot which feeds the family. In addition to tending his farm, one of Safal's uncles is a Pujari, or Hindu priest. The whole family and I sat in his small room with walls lined with shelves of ancient Hindu texts. Safal's uncle gave me a blessing and painted the small red Tika on my forehead to indicate the blessing. He told stories and read about the position and significance of the stars of the day of my birth.
Safal's own story is amazing. He has won numerous awards in Nepal for being the finest orator of the Nepali language. Whenever he translates for me, I not only trust that my message is being conveyed accurately, I am certain that my words become even more meaningful and beautiful when they reach the people I wish to communicate with. When he was about 10 years old his father asked him to quit school and to work on the family farm. Since then Safal has paid for all of his education by himself. He led an enormous group of young people dedicated to improving the environmental, social, and political situation in Nepal. He published many articles and poems renouncing the despotic monarchy and fighting for a democratic Nepal. He led street protests and was the target of military gunfire during the dangerous times of curfew before the monarchy fell. He organized a reproductive health education program, wrote a proposal to get a bit of grant money, and traveled with 15 of his friends to remote villages to talk with young people about the very taboo subject of sex and reproductive health. He also wrote, directed, and acted in very provocative street theatre performances to teach sexual and moral values and responsibility to his peers. Now he is studying Human and Natural Resource Management with me and his greatest dream is to travel to the USA to study Peace and Conflict Studies at a prestigious university. I would like to connect him to the program at Notre Dame. If anyone has any contacts that might be able to help Safal, I can think of no more worthy candidate.
The day after I arrived at the Ghimire home, Safal and I departed for the village of Ghachowk, where his mother's brother lives. We walked for three hours along dusty roads, across perilous bridges, and up and down the sides of the river valley. The more we walked, the fewer signs of "development" were visible. We stopped along the way to visit the mother of one of Safal's friends. She lives alone, survives on the foods from a small garden plot, and tends her buffalo. When we arrived she was so excited to offer of some peanuts from her garden and milk tea with milk from her buffalo. We sat and talked for awhile and Safal later told me that she was close to tears because her own boys are looking for work in the city.
Safal and I were warmly welcomed in the Ghachowk. After strolling around and visiting Safal's friends and family in the very remote village of about 3,000 people, we returned to his uncle's home for a big meal of daal bat. From morning till night, everyone is busy cooking, milking, and taking care of all the household chores. On the morning after we arrived, I was able to help out by churning butter. I spent about a half hour sitting in the small kitchen, seated in front of a cylindrical wooden bucket, pulling opposite ends of a rope wrapped around the handle of a paddle. The picture should make more sense than my description.
That morning, word spread that an old man had died in the village. All the men who knew him got together, collected some large pieces of wood, and carried his body to the river. There they made a pile with their wood and burned his body. As we walked out of town, we passed the men gathered around the fire. We stopped for a moment, but then had to keep walking in order to get back to Pokhara for an appointment at a local highschool.
Safal's brother, Baman, invited me to speak to his 9th graders about life in the U.S. I had a great time talking with the class of 50 boys and girls and they asked some good questions about school, tests, and dating in my home country. I also cleared up some misconceptions. They asked me if everyone in the U.S. has to move out of their parents' home when they are 17. They also asked if everyone has lots of money. One significant difference between the school systems in the Nepal and the U.S. is the Nepali focus on values. They aren't so focused on tests and standards so they are able to teach kids about respect, kindness to everyone, and living a moral life. Kids here are incredibly respectful to me all the time. I am humbled by their smiles and I only wish that we had a similar practice at home.
After we left the school, Safal and I boarded a bus for the village of Saiswara. I had another very interesting experience on bus, which was so crowded that three people were hanging out of each of the two doorways and three more were standing on the rear bumper, holding onto anything that would keep them from falling off. Inside, a woman with a child had recently boarded the bus and I offered her my seat on the large spare tire that was lying on the floor. She gratefully accepted and she was then offered a real seat to sit in. Immediately after I exchanged places with the woman, a man said to Safal that he could not bear to see a foreigner, a guest in his country, standing on such a crowded bus. The man got out of his seat and insisted that I sit. In all the homes we visited, Safal and I were treated like kings, though the people we visited had very little money. Safal explained that in Nepal, the guest is always considered to be like God and should be treated as such. After we got off the bus, he told me that the old men on the bus began talking about America. The asked one another whether they thought that a foreigner would be offered a seat on a crowded bus by an American citizen. I am glad that I did not know more Nepali at that point. I would not have liked to have answered that question.
That night brought more warm, intimate conversations with Safal's friend Milan and his family while sharing another large plate of daal bat. We also drank many more cups of milk and curd from the family's buffalo. I asked Milan's father if he was happy with his life and if he needed anything else to be happy. He said that he was quite content with his life. He had plenty of fresh, organic food to eat, he had all the clean water he could use, and he had a house for his family. Another common theme that I heard from each of the houses we visited was that the family's were so honored that someone from America would visit their homes and eat with them. They seemed surprised when I explained that the honor was really mine. Many people also asked me about the promised land of the USA. I told them that there are jobs there, and there is money, but that it isn't like the movies. The truth is that I don't know many people in my country who are really happy, despite having plenty of food, money, cars, and giant houses. The truth is (and I may be projecting my romantic ideas of Eastern culture) that the people on those small farms seemed to more fulfilled, less depressed, less restless, and more generous than 99% of the people I've met at home.
I don't know if we all need to sell all our possessions and begin growing all our own food (but it wouldn't hurt). I am certain, though, that the simplicity of the peoples' lives in rural Nepal allows them to live with a peace unknown to most people in the west. They have to work hard to survive, but there is an indisputable purpose to absolutely everything that they do.
In other news, my classes at Kathmandu University begin on Thursday and today I went to a program to celebrate World Wetlands Day. I had never even heard of this day! But I went to a lake about 20 Km. outside of Kathmandu and found a group of about 50 young people who were there to enjoy the natural beauty, the clean air, and to raise awareness about protecting valuable ecosystems. I decided to join a group of about 20 people who were going on a long hike through the rice paddi fields and forests in the surrounding hills. As we began the walk, I noticed that a young guy tossed some pieces of trash on the ground. This is a huge social problem in Nepal and there is literally trash everywhere. The waste management system leaves much to be desired. I had a plastic bag with me and I made sure to be in the front of the line as I began picking up a few pieces of trash and filling my bag. Within 5 minutes I was joined by an energetic young woman named Mona. After seeing me, she had collected a few more plastic bags and then we began making a bigger dent in the polluted country side. By the end of the three-hour walk, nearly everyone was helping out, villagers thanked us and stared in disbelief, and we had together collected about 20 bags of trash. I think that this action really created some new consciousness among those few people. I hope it will spread!
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Uttar Bindu and the Big Move
Hey friends, sorry I've been absent for awhile. Kathmandu only has electricity for 8 hours per day and I never seem to be near a computer during those hours. Much has happened since the last time I wrote.
Dawa left for a 1 month visit to New York. I moved out of her house and into a 4th story, rooftop apartment just outside of Patan, Durbar Square. This area of Kathmandu is lauded as one of the most architecturally and culturally rich neighborhoods in all of South Asia. I cannot walk 30 seconds in any direction without running into centuries old Buddhist and Hindu shrines. More pictures should be coming soon.
Before leaving Dawa's house, I was invited to a Sherpa family party at Dawa's uncle's house. Dawa's uncle is the grandson of Norgay Tenzing, the Sherpa climber who, along with Edmund Hillary, was a member of the first climbing party to reach the summit of Mount Everest in 1953. Dawa's uncle himself has been to the top of Everest three times. We drank beer together and talked about Nepali politics.
With little to do on my last day at Dawa's house, I decided to take a walk uphill, away from the city and toward the gigantic Shivapuri National Park that is the border between Kathmandu and the Himalaya Mountain Range. The walk was beautiful and breathing fresh air was a real treat after choking on the grey, soupy air of Kathmandu for a week. I visited a Buddhist Vipassana center that lies just outside the park and I inquired about their 12 day meditation retreats. The 12 days entail about 10 hours of meditation per day, waking up at 4:00 am, eating a sparse vegetarian diet, and not speaking to anyone or making eye contact during the duration of the course. It sounds pretty intense, but I have a month-long break from classes in July and I think that a bit of silence would do me some good.
Dawa left for a 1 month visit to New York. I moved out of her house and into a 4th story, rooftop apartment just outside of Patan, Durbar Square. This area of Kathmandu is lauded as one of the most architecturally and culturally rich neighborhoods in all of South Asia. I cannot walk 30 seconds in any direction without running into centuries old Buddhist and Hindu shrines. More pictures should be coming soon.
Before leaving Dawa's house, I was invited to a Sherpa family party at Dawa's uncle's house. Dawa's uncle is the grandson of Norgay Tenzing, the Sherpa climber who, along with Edmund Hillary, was a member of the first climbing party to reach the summit of Mount Everest in 1953. Dawa's uncle himself has been to the top of Everest three times. We drank beer together and talked about Nepali politics.
With little to do on my last day at Dawa's house, I decided to take a walk uphill, away from the city and toward the gigantic Shivapuri National Park that is the border between Kathmandu and the Himalaya Mountain Range. The walk was beautiful and breathing fresh air was a real treat after choking on the grey, soupy air of Kathmandu for a week. I visited a Buddhist Vipassana center that lies just outside the park and I inquired about their 12 day meditation retreats. The 12 days entail about 10 hours of meditation per day, waking up at 4:00 am, eating a sparse vegetarian diet, and not speaking to anyone or making eye contact during the duration of the course. It sounds pretty intense, but I have a month-long break from classes in July and I think that a bit of silence would do me some good.
During that same hike, and despite not having single Rupi to offer, I was invited into a modest and out-of-the-way little restaurant to share a cup of tea with some young local guys. As I was sitting there, learning a bit of Nepali and appreciating the fact that so many young people in Nepal have a great grasp of the English language, an old dump truck rattled up the hill and began dumping piles of dirt and rocks in the uneven and sharply graded road. I asked a guy called Saroj about the road repairs and whether this was a government funded project. After asking a few more questions, I learned that this was actually the first project undertaken by Uttar Bindu, which is Nepali for "North Point." Saroj explained to me that Uttar Bindu is a recently formed youth organization that is dedicated to improving this small community north of Kathmandu. He said that the young people there realized that they could not wait for the government to help them, so they decided to get organized and to begin improving and beautifying their community. They hold regular meetings and they get funding by petitioning the wealthier members of the community. I was astounded by the initiative and power of these young people and I look forward to visiting Uttar Bindu to see what other projects they are planning for this year. This is the primary school in Budhanilkantha, the neighborhood where Uttar Bindu operates. The school was built recently, but it lacks many basic facilities like a safe area for students to play, hygiene facilities, and electricity. Saroj and his young friend are in the background.
The next day I spent many hours traveling around Kathmandu looking at apartments. I finally settled on a one room apartment that is fully furnished, nicely decorated, and that has an impressive view of southern Kathmandu. The best feature of this apartment, however, is the landlord and his wife. Mr. Mangal Maharjan has been a bookstore owner, a music store owner, an artist, and now he is a music producer for one of Nepal's most popular labels: East Meets West. On the first floor of his apartment is the room where Nepal's most popular young folk band, Kotumba, practices. His wife, Vishnu, is an extraordinarily joyful and boisterous lady who brews her own fiery rice liquor in a big blue barrel on the terrace. This shows Mr. Mangal, his wife, and some family friends who formed the band and spontaneous dance party that erupted on the night I moved in. The power was out for the first half of the party, so we celebrated by candle light. Vishnu was insistent that I continue tasting more of her Raskshi (the very potent, home-distilled liquor). We danced for hours and ate mountains of Dal Bhat, Nepal's national dish of rice and lentil soup. I went to bed feeling quite fortunate to have found such a great place to live.
That same afternoon, before the party, I contacted my Rotary host-counselor, Dr. Dinesh Pant. Dr. Pant is the Executive Director of Kathmandu's prestigious Administrative Staff College and after a very positive meeting with him, I was invited to the weekly Thursday meeting of the Kathmandu North East Rotary Club. Due to some strikes which led to unusually heavy traffic jams, only five of the 27 members of the club were present for this meeting. I took advantage of the low turnout by asking many questions about the club, their projects, and their knowledge of the Ambassadorial Scholarship. I came away from the meeting with some great ideas for presentations and a great feeling about Rotary's presence in Nepal. In Kathmandu alone there are 32 Rotary Clubs and there are more than 60 around the country.
Today I am going to the university to take my entrance exams. Then I hope to obtain my student visa. On the 20th I plan to attend a big party for Obama's inauguration and then I hope to spend about 10 days traveling around the country.
Today I am going to the university to take my entrance exams. Then I hope to obtain my student visa. On the 20th I plan to attend a big party for Obama's inauguration and then I hope to spend about 10 days traveling around the country.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
More Surprises
Today I intended to go to the Ministry of Education in order to obtain my student visa. I rode on the back of a motorcycle and when the terrifying ride was done, I felt overwhelming gratitude for the support of the earth under my feet. I vowed that I would never ride a motorcycle again, especially not in Nepal.
The Ministry of Education is tucked into the back of a massive, unkempt government building in the center of town. As I wandered down dark, dirty, unlit hallways, being constantly redirected to another office for Student Visas, I gained a better understanding of Nepal's poverty. Government offices in the U.S. may not be inviting or attractive, but you won't find any offices that are unusable because they have been filled up with old trash. There seemed to be no communication or organization within these offices and everyone gave me different information. I left with some possible next steps toward getting my visa, but I felt a bit frustrated. Despite the mountains of red tape and bureaucracy we deal with in the U.S., I am really learning to appreciate that at least we have a standardized system with clear, enforced laws.
Instead of continuing on with my student visa process, I decided to walk around town for awhile. The Himalaya School of Music caught my attention and before I knew it I was on the back of another motorcycle, racing through the city toward to apartment of two amazing musicians. Rabin plays the Tabala and his wife plays the Sitar. She gives lessons and I am considering becoming a student. This video shows a short piece of the 10 minute private performance I enjoyed in their small apartment.
The jet lag is still a challenge, but I hope to sleep until at least 5:30 tomorrow morning. I have a meeting with the university faculty tomorrow morning and then I'll probably do some apartment shopping. Thanks to everyone who has been reading.
The Ministry of Education is tucked into the back of a massive, unkempt government building in the center of town. As I wandered down dark, dirty, unlit hallways, being constantly redirected to another office for Student Visas, I gained a better understanding of Nepal's poverty. Government offices in the U.S. may not be inviting or attractive, but you won't find any offices that are unusable because they have been filled up with old trash. There seemed to be no communication or organization within these offices and everyone gave me different information. I left with some possible next steps toward getting my visa, but I felt a bit frustrated. Despite the mountains of red tape and bureaucracy we deal with in the U.S., I am really learning to appreciate that at least we have a standardized system with clear, enforced laws.
Instead of continuing on with my student visa process, I decided to walk around town for awhile. The Himalaya School of Music caught my attention and before I knew it I was on the back of another motorcycle, racing through the city toward to apartment of two amazing musicians. Rabin plays the Tabala and his wife plays the Sitar. She gives lessons and I am considering becoming a student. This video shows a short piece of the 10 minute private performance I enjoyed in their small apartment.
The jet lag is still a challenge, but I hope to sleep until at least 5:30 tomorrow morning. I have a meeting with the university faculty tomorrow morning and then I'll probably do some apartment shopping. Thanks to everyone who has been reading.
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