The Power and The Glory

I just finished reading Ghram Greene’s The Power and The Glory which was a really good read. It had a Steinbeck feel to it. There was a part in it when the main character, an exiled priest, is back in a safe area, and he is thinking of how quickly he is adopting to this life he knew before being exiled, and how easily he was forgetting what he learned in the struggles of exile. This part really sticks with me, because in a world of Targets and Starbucks, where will Nepal fit in?
I love Target, I love being able to run down the road and have everything I need in one store, I love hot showers, I love the feeling of walking into a heated house, fresh clothes from the dryer, white chocolate macchiatos, with skim milk, easy on the foam; all of these that are so clearly western and a symbol of a comfortable life. But I also have the same love for a good Dhaal Bhatt, sitting in a room with the cooking fire, scrubbing clothes on a cement floor, bucket showers, the stinging cold, all that are very much Nepal. But as difficult as it was to come to love these things, how easy will it be to fall back in love with home?
I have learned so much here that I don’t want to forget. The smell of a crisp morning, the warmth of a good cup of chiyaa, how walking doesn’t limit your destinations, rather expands them. How happiness can be found in strangers and the chance encounters, communication and language are more then words, dish hands are as beautiful as smooth ones, hospitality isn’t just a word it’s a belief, children deserve more attention then leaders, you lose so much when you surround your self with “conveniences,” people will let you down, but those who matter lift you back up, there is beauty of the simple living of each day, of calling home, home, of family, and most importantly how easy it is to forget all of this when things are difficult.
So what will happen, when I home and it’s not easy to live simply? When it is a cold day and it will be easy to hop in a car for a 10 minute ride, as oppose to walking or taking my bike. What will I chose? Or when those cute shoes I don’t need go on sale? When life is easy to escape in front of the TV. Will I remember the moments here when I found peace journaling in the sun on a beautiful winter day? Or will I get in the car and stop at a Starbucks on the way to the store?
How much have I really let Nepal infiltrate my life? Or is it nothing more then experiences to e-mail friends about, or a good bar story when I come home…This time I lived in Nepal. How do I make this more then a badge to wear when it benefits me?
I am not saying I want to forget what made me happy when I was home, because I need to remember that, I need to find the good in going back. But I want to take away the superficial of it. I will still drink Starbucks, and go to Target, but not to fill my life with things, but because I like the one on one time going to Target on Sundays gives me with my mom, I like being able to talk to Sarah about things only she would understand on the way to Starbucks. These interactions are why I should go, not because I am bored and am looking for something to fulfill me. I want to go home with what really does fulfill me. Nature, conversation, reading, passions that actually do fill me, and not just give me fleeting moments of happiness. So that when I do feel restless, I grab my bike and go for a ride, call a friend, write a letter, do the things I have discovered here that make me feel genuinely happy, fulfilling me with out filling my life or closet with the unnecessary.
I have realized that what I look forward to about home has changed. When I first got here I couldn’t wait to have a Portillo’s cheeseburger, or new earrings, or a sweater from the Gap. But now it’s the idea of a baseball game with Sheila, or a concert with Sarah and Michael, walks with Riley, snow, Christmas lights, family dinners, riding my bike, Dad laughing, lawn mowers; things I never I knew I loved. It’s these things that we come to miss when the superficial fall away. When owning 5 t-shirts seems a bit much, when water tastes just as good as soda, when you crave Dhaal Bhatt as much as cheese fries; when you let what is important and what is present take over. Something I hope to always be challenged by.

Batastic

The only time I ever saw a real life bat was when it flew into my Uncle’s house. I was 8 and hid in my cousin’s room with my Mom and Aunt, not paying attention to all the banging going on downstairs. At some point my Uncle yelled up “It’s gone!” And that was it. Flash forward fifteen years, to me in Nepal. It is a Sunday evening, we have just finished watching an Office episode and I am exhausted, I close my eyes and am out, until I hear Denise ask “Caleen, do you have a light?” I stumble out of my bed to find my headlamp thinking it’s a bird outside our roof again, and shine it towards the ceiling, in which something comes fluttering down. I fall to the ground Army style as Denise dives under her covers…It is a bat, in our room. We decided the best thing is to get out of the room and re-group. So hoods up, we sprint out our door. We make it into the hallway adrenaline pumping. Among Dwight Schrutte jokes and impersonations, we realize we have to do something. So, our first step,turn on the light, and figure out where is this bat? So, I stick my arm around the door, turn on our lights, and jump out to the hallway, heart pumping. We peak our heads in to see a bat, dive bombing in circles around the room. Of course all of our windows are closed because, it’s cold. Great. It is about this time Pat comes out to the hallway and we devise a plan. With a laundry basket “helmet”, rain coat and mittens on, he goes in and opens 2 of our windows. Then we wait, laugh a little, and pray it leaves. Each time we peak our head in we dive out of the way of our kwazikami bat. As we decide to go in to open the adjacent windows, I notice a silence. We walk in, alas, no death defying bat flying at us, just an eerie silence. We take the headlamp and shine it all around the rafters in our ceiling. Nothing. So we hug it out, and Denise and I turn on Friends to calm us and climb back into bed, and try to sleep again. But just as I start to calm down, in the dim light of the small DVD player, we see something flutter down again. Our friend is back. As we deliberate from under our blankets on what to do we again realize we can not just stay like this, so this time we plan to open windows, and turn on the light on our way out of the room. I pull on my hood, scarf and mittens and Okay, deep breathe, on three..1…2..3.. RUN!! I bolt from bed to the windows across the room, thinking duck and go, duck and go. I open the windows, turn on the light and jump into the hallway. We are back to the drawing board, though this time, we have another laundry basket “helmet.” Pat comes back out dressed and ready to go, we decide to try the Chris Wall style and go into the room to shout it out. So I grab the extra basket “helmet” and we go in. We shout, we stomp, but the bat still comes at us, forcing us to dive and slid across the room. The bat seems confused on which way to go, so just spins circles around the room, swooping in and out. At this point, Denise has grabbed a sheet, so we decide its time to force it out. I take of the helmet, its go time. Insert Pat in helmet, mittens and raincoat, me in hoodie, pink scarf, and mittens holding a sheet, running towards the bat, yelling (why I’m not sure). But the bat just swoops towards us and moves on. At this point we need a new plan. Pat and Denise are talking strategy and I am watching the bat, when all of a sudden it takes another dive towards me, with sheet in hand I raise and swing, sending the bat flying across the room, hitting the wall and sliding down dazed. “ I THINK I HIT IT” I scream. Pat and I slowly make our way across the room where we see tucked behind Denise’s sleeping bag, Batty. His little wing is fluttering, but Pat grabs his helmet and throws it on top. Next challenge, getting him out. I am convinced I have killed him, and now every PETA sponsored remorse comes into to me. I repeat over and over,”I think I killed him.,,,Did I kill him?” In which Pat finally explains “No, I think you just terrified it.” We have the basket over him but how to get that covered. My exhaustion (or so I claim) recommends using the sheet. But a more sensible solution comes from Denise bringing in our flat metal pot cover. And so in a quick motion we cover the basket, and bring Batty upstairs to our roof, where we uncover the top and run, hoping he can find his way from here.
We once again head downstairs, calmer, knowing we saw it leave this time. We hug it out once more, quote the Office a little more, say our good nights, and head back to bed. Just another night in Godavari.

World On Fire

A little place called home (we live upstairs)


Our rooftop


My favorite animals here; baby goats


The little surprises we'd find during monsoon


Swimming Competition
(Courtesy of Pat)


Class 7 Irish Dancing


The whole Irish Dancing crew


Welcome to 3C


My classroom


The gentleman of 3C


The Ladies of 3C


3C continued


Resham, she's the strength in 3C


Pratik & Rachit they find ways to make me laugh, usually to get themselves out of trouble


Class 3C Mendi


And LEAP!


Utav, my Sports day buddy



Abhib, our little linebacker


Rohan, my class 2 friend.


Where I find my smiles


Steph and Me


Everest


Protein


Our friend on the trail


Dad and Me


We climed this


Sheila


Our rowboats in Pokhara


Sarah and Michael on the flight


Dad and Mom

Just Because I am Hurting, Doesn't mean I'm hurt....

The kites are put away, the new clothes are now old, and the moon will be in its fullest tonight, which means that Dashain has ended. This Dashain, brought my family, which was amazing. My surprise visitors were my mom and cousin Stephanie, which was more wonderful then I could imagine. Having both my parents, Sheila and Steph here was a much needed refresher. I didn’t realize how much I had missed them until I saw them walking towards me, it was just a release of emotion.
Our time together was just what I needed. We saw all of “my” Nepal with highlights of Lonely Planet’s Nepal. They were able to meet my kiddos in 3C, which was nice for not only them but my students, because I think they both hear as much about each other so it was good for the worlds to bond. We met my family here, which was a beautiful connecting of my life here and at home…family. Then we traveled outside the valley, went on a Mountain flight, ate good food, talked, and of course shopped. It was just unbelievable to finally share this with them. Their leaving was nothing I could anticipate and am still handling. It was just hard to say goodbye to not only them but the comfort they bring. But it made going home something I am excited about, and not so scary. This little blurb is not doing their visit enough justice, but I would never be able to explain just how much having them here has meant to me.
Not only was their presence nice, it was necessary. It showed me so much that I had forgotten or not believed. In the past couple of months, different experiences had made me a little hard towards my “JV” experience here. From a new form of “sometimes you need a good beating” corporal punishment at the school, to bad encounters with staff, to valuing Parent’s day practices over classes, and in general just an exhaustion of everything, I had grown a little resentful towards life as a JV here. Enter family and a whole new perspective. Seeing Nepal through their new eyes, reminded me, I like Nepal. It is an unbelievably beautiful place, with amazingly hospitable people. It is common for someone to go out of their way to help you, or to get you something. People here enjoy people. And the simplicity of interacting with one another, whether it’s at a restaurant, on the street, or during a bargaining deal, it is the simple human interaction that people thrive on. I also for the first time was the only person who could speak Nepali, so I had too, and guess what? I can. It is something that is easily forgotten when Nepali becomes a contest of smarts, and not a language to use. I am comfortable and happy here, which was something that I was forgetting more and more. It seems that as I continue my time here, it doesn’t necessary get easier. Yes, I can communicate, I know my students, lesson plans come quicker, all that, but I am challenged as much today as when I first got off the plane. I am challenged in my thinking, my actions, my “western” views, my beliefs, and it is because of these challenges that I have cried,laughed, hated and loved Nepal with the same passion. This passion is what makes my time here what it is; a continual journey of the heart.

"You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments when you have really lived are the moments when you have done things in the spirit of love.”
Henry Drummond

It's a beautiful crisp Nepali morning. The Himalayas are out, I have a cup of real coffee, and the sun is starting to peak out, which means I am in the perfect mood for updates.
Things are going well as we come towards the middle of Term II and Dashain break. We just had Class 3 and 4 Parents Day, which is a big performance for the students to do for their parents. I taught 20 kids Irish Dancing, 15 of which are the most energetic boys I teach. It was a lot of work, and pulled hair, but the end result was worth it. They did so well! I was so happy and proud of them, but I am also glad that it is done, and we can get back into "school." With parent's day came parent's day practice which took priority over class, so for the past two weeks, I have been doing Caleen Misses Math Boot Camp, in which we have been studying and learning the basics, like addition and multiplication factors, so that there are no more counting fingers or simple mistakes on tests. But now, it will be back to fractions.
3C and I are also preparing for our class assembly which is in two weeks. The class assembly is a mini parents day which is performed for the school. My theme is Change the World, and before you roll your eyes and my idealistic theme, it is about how everyone can do their part to create change, even kids who live in Godavari, Nepal. We are singing "My Own Two Hands" by Jack Johnson and Ben Harper. Followed by a skit and ending the show with Dave Matthews "Best of What's Around." I am excited for it and I think the kids will do a really good job. I have realized through Parent's Day just how attached I am to my kids. I was running around making sure I could see all of my 3C kiddos performances. I am really lucky to have such a wonderful class, and in general to have such a great time with all of the class 3 kids.
Which brings me to my b-day. To be honest I didn’t think much of it, I have been missing home a bit with the transition and Katie and Sean leaving that it just kinda came up. I went up to Sujana’s house the night before my birthday where we had cake I brought, a delicious meal, and just a comfort I needed of home when I felt so far from it. Then in the morning, I was given pouja with my morning chiyaa and a blessing from Mummy. And went home with a smile at just how blessed I was to be spending my 23rd birthday here. And the blessings continued as I came home to house that Pat, Sarah and D had decorated, real coffee and a phone call from home. But I could never have predicted what school would bring. I walked to the lower staff room where my desk is and was meet by Aashna, the queen of 3C, and she told me to wait to come to the classroom until the bell, which I did. And as I walked to the class I heard the giggles of my students and them shhsing each other. I walked in to see my students hiding under their desks, only to jump up and shout out surprise!!!! And then give me one of the loudest renditions of Happy Birthday. I was overwhelmed as they showered me with cards and gifts. I was overcome with emotion at just how willing children are to love and to show their love. I will never forget how I blessed I felt as I opened gifts from kids who gave me their pages of stickers and drawings, or flowers. Some using their own money to buy me a trinket, and its not their gifts that touch me, it is the gesture in which they so willingly gave what they could. This continued through out the day as I walked into every class and was greeted by their own unique rendition of Happy Birthday followed by a showering of gifts and cards. It was the happiest I have felt in a long time. And it was because they just love, with out any question or hesitation. Even those who I am harder on, they love, and it was then that I realized just the gift I have been given in being a part of their lives for this next year.
The birthday continued with a wonderful dinner at my favorite restaurant in town, with Sarah, Pat, and D. Complete with our snuck in whiskey and Pepsi MU stlye. Followed the next day by going to a movie theater (!) to see a Hindi film (my guilty pleasure). All in all it was a beautiful birthday.
After my birthday came Teej. This is a festival to pray and fast for your current husband or future husband, but as I learned last year it is a day to spend with the women you love. We were able to dress in red saris for school on Monday (the day before the main Teej day) and found out at the morning assembly that there would be a program that afternoon in which the women would dance. At first I was like no way, but once we were called up onto the "stage" I just let go and enjoyed it. Our students were able to come up and join us after they realized that there were only 2 other teachers besides us JV's willing to dance. And I had a ball with my girls. They taught me their dance moves and we spent the afternoon laughing, and dancing. It was so freeing to not care what I looked like and to just have fun with them. I could not have had a more perfect Teej day then that.
We are now all looking forward to Dashain holiday. Pat, and D are heading out to trek the Annupurnas, Sarah is spending it here with her Nepali family, and I am looking forward to spending it with my dad, Sheila and two other b-day surprise guests who despite my attempts are still very much a secret to me. We currently have a pool going at the house if anyone would like in. Otherwise things are going well here. The government is the most stable it has been since arriving, we've only had one bandh in the past 2 months, and it seems like this might work. I am at peace, and looking forward to the rejuvenation that visitors and holidays bring. Hope you are all doing well, and until next time much love and peace.

Bistari Janus

While applying to JVI, I kept hearing about community, and just thought of it as the people you live with, but over the past year I have learned that it is something that becomes a part of you, and those you share it with are woven into your life forever.
Katie and Sean, were more then just the people I came home to. We worked together, ate together, explored together, and lived together in all senses of the word. Which is what makes their recent leaving so difficult, because for so long they have been all that Nepal is to me. When ever I needed something, I always could count on them from khurta shopping, to book recommendations, to life conversations, they were there. Over the past year we have shared so much of our lives together and learned from each other. It is difficult to picture what Nepal will be like, now that I can’t hop on a micro and meet Katie for some chiyaa or build a tent with Sean.
I was challenged and stretched by both of them and found a deep respect for them. They both took me in, this girl from Chicago with the Wisconsin accent, and made me feel at home in a place that was anything but. They listened to my stories, and told me theirs. We spent hours after dinner was finished and chiyaa was drunk, deep in conversation, learning and growing.
Sean was the one who taught me about the history and politics of Nepal. He made a mess seem somewhat understandable. He taught me how to ride a bike in Kathmandu, he showed me the wonders of Blue Fox, and he was always willing to go get last minute veggies for dinner. But beyond that, he listened when I needed someone to, he took my sass, and gave it back, and he cared in a place that can feel so uncaring at times.
Katie taught me my Nepali, she taught me how bargain, to make the best banana bread, to buy khurtas. But these are also just things. Beyond this, she was my support, my anchor when I felt lost. She showed me how to be a woman in Nepal, and gave me comfort when that was hard. I learned that hospitality goes both ways, and that even when you are exhausted, there is always time for chiyaa. We could talk for hours about anything, but mostly importantly we could just be.
I didn’t realize that when I left home, I would find another here. I didn’t expect that when I left my family, I would form another here. And now just like when I said goodbye at O’Hare, I find myself with that same emptiness as I said goodbye at Tribhuvan airport. But I find comfort in knowing that I carry them with me, and that just like family we will always be apart of each other.

One Year

It is hard to believe that I am actually writting this blog. When I first got to Nepal, I never thought this day would come and now that I am here, I fear that it will come again all to quickly. At times it seems like yesterday I arrived and on others it feels like I have been here a life time, and yet I still am discovering Nepal. It is hard to reflect on a year that I don't feel has happened. Was it really a year ago, that I arrived in Tribuviran Airport? For those at home it may feel like that and more, but for me, it still feels surreal at times. When I am on a micro riding up to Godavari and see the clouds along the mountains, I can't help but wonder if this is a Lord of the Rings inspired dream. When I walk into 3C laughing and running around, I can't help but wonder am I really lucky enough to spend my days with them? When I am with my family drinking chiyaa and learning Nepali, I think how am I this blessed? Or when I am in the kitchen with Pat, D, and Sarah, laughing and talking it's hard not to feel like this isn't real.
I am grateful for all that this exprience has brought me so far and I am looking forward to what I can take from it in this coming year. I have learned a lot about life and expectations in the past year. It has been an unexpected journey to be where I am today. I came to Nepal expecting to do social work with HIV/AIDS patients and students, and I am a class 1 and 3 math teacher. I came to Nepal thinking I would be living in "town" and now feel more at home in the village. I came to Nepal expecting stablitly and found my life unstable for ten months. I came to Nepal thinking I would have the same community for a year but am finding myself having to relearn what community means to me. And while this was not always easy, I am grateful.
I have thought a long time about what it would feel like to be at this point; one year. I still am not sure if I will ever fully understand all that this year has brought, but I do know that I want to continue to fall in love with this place. To be as awed by its beauty as when I first arrived. To never find something mundane, to seek out the good, even in the difficult times. I have been streached and challenged beyond what I thought I could this past year, and I want that to continue. I want to keep growing, and to let Nepal in. Into my mind, my actions and my heart. I hope that in a year from now I feel an emptiness in leaving as I did a year ago when I left home.
While at the Bangkok airport I wrote a journal entry that said "Expirience it, let Nepal in, and let whatever go that keeps you from this. Be broken." At the time I had no idea just how much this would effect my time here. I have learned that allowing yourself to let go of the past, to let go of the future and to just live in the present, allows you to be apart of life, and not just a watcher. By letting myself be broken by what I expirience, I find myself open to all that Nepal brings, both good and bad, which allows me to live and just be in Nepal. This has been a long and difficult journey that I am still on, but each day I find something else to inspire me from the Grandfathers who walk their grandsons to school every morning, to the little girl who falls asleep on my shoulder in a micro.
And while I still miss home and those I love, I know that I carry them with me wherever I go, and that this expirience is mine as it is theirs. But for now, I need to continue to grow in love, while here. I accpeted this position not knowing anything about Nepal, and now, I can't imagine not knowing it. And that is a good place to be.

Challenges

Recently I was challenged. Not by a student or community member on a belief, but what I stood for as a woman, person, and human. Coming to Nepal, I was willing to adapt to the culture as long as it didn’t compromise my core values or beliefs, and I was okay with that. I was okay with what being a foreigner and woman meant here. But, I knew that if I was challenged beyond this, to where my heart lays, I would have to stand firm.
While this sounds great and a Go You, moment, in reality, having something you are strongly committed to challenged, is more difficult then I expected. I thought that if it happened I would just react, but to be honest, I think it is easier in those moments to do nothing then to do what you know is right. It is in these moments that I have even more respect for those who fought for what they believed in, in a world that was trying to stop them. It is because of this experience that I have stopped romanticizing the idea of social justice. It is easy to hold a sign at a protest, get in arguments at a bar, or write an editorial, but when the time comes to actually do something, will you?
My answer was always “Of course!” But when the time came, I wanted nothing more then to back away, to forget that I cared about these things. So for a week I wrestled. I wrestled with the voice in my head that said “You know nothing positive will come from this, just move on.” I wrestled with the pros and cons lists I kept writing. I wrestled with what am I expected to do; as a JV, as an American in a foreign place, as a human being. And then I finally wrestled with my heart which said “How can you do nothing?” And as most discernments it was my heart that won, and so I took a stand, with trembling hands, legs, and voice, but with a strong heart and community behind me.
And while I do not think anything will come from this, I do know that even if nothing happens, it is an injustice to not do something. And I have also learned that there is more to social justice and call to action then just fancy words or talk, it is about finding something you believe in and care enough about that you are willing to risk yourself for it. And while it is never easy, if you are not willing to stand against it then you are standing for it.

Day by Day

I am often asked about what life like is here, as in day to day life. It is hard to paint a picture of what my life is here, because it is a combination of mundane daily tasks, and unexplainable, unique experiences to Nepal. For example, today I hopped on a Micro to town to do some shopping, check mail, boring things, but on the way in we hit a jam because there was a cow in the middle of the road that wouldn't move, unusual unique to Nepal situation. Although it is these type of situations that make living here the experience it is. So I will do my best to explain what my days like are here.

I live in Godavari, which is a village, and quite the difference from Ekantakuana which was the city, but I am definitely enjoying being in a village. Things are quieter, peaceful, and in general more what I was looking for when I applied to JVI. The house we live in is the old Rana summer palace, but it is not the castles of Cinderella or Harry Potter. It is an old house, with big beautiful round windows, that let in the wonderful smells of the botanical gardens behind us. We live upstairs, in three bedrooms, a kitchen, and an incredibly creepy old attic, where we hang our clothes. Downstairs, are two teachers and their families. Khagendra Sir, lives under Denise's and my room, so I am often woken up by their 10 month old son's laughter. The Buddhiraj’s live on the other side and have two children who are at SXG. Bhuddiraj Sir is a Nepali teacher so my grammar is getting better by the day, and his wife is one of my biggest comforts here. Samprada and Sambid, their children, are great and Sambid is a constant reminder of what a younger sibling would be like. The school is about a five minute walk from our house (conveniently past chiyaa stands). My family lives about 20 minutes uphill from us, which has been really good for me, to be closer to them.

Each day we get up around 6:30 and start the coffee, which means turning on the hot water for the instant stuff. Then it’s the usual morning shuffle, of eating toast, showering some days, getting dressed, and finishing school things. We head up to school around 8:15, unless we have things to do at school then a lil earlier.

Once at school, the craziness begins. I sign in at the office, crossing my fingers that I don't get handed a substitution, taking away one of my only breaks. Then I head to the lower staff room where I get everything organized at my desk, finish lesson plans, check the sari, and head out to first period. I am a class teacher this year, so I have a homeroom. My class is 3C and they are quite the characters, which I love, most days. I have my favorites as all teachers do regardless of what they say.

One is Denish. He looks like he is four, but has the personality of a hyperactive forty year old. Most days he comes up to me with “Miiiissssss , and then some story of why he didn’t do his homework, or questions about why my eyes are blue, or how he flew, anything really. Which is the exact reason why I love him. Dinesh is a kid with a good heart, who likes to make others laugh and somehow always ends up in the wrong place at the wrong time. To be honest, I would not be surprised to walk into class one day and see him sitting on the shelf; it just fits. He just loves and needs love.

All of my students our wonderful and I lucked out with the class I have. Although I have my days with them, like the time one of my students Pratik got in trouble for jumping out the window (were on the bottom floor), and I had to explain with a straight face why jumping from the window in class is not an okay way to leave, even if it is closer to the bathroom.

I also teach class 1 math and special English. Class 1 is a bit of a challenge because they don’t speak English when they start, so Special English, which is a supplementary English class is interesting; although my Nepali has really improved. The kids in class 1 are good for the most part, and I have come to have much more patience with them, which makes it easier. They also are just funny to be around because of what they do. It is not uncommon to walk into class and have kids with pants on backwards, desks turned around, and usually the class captain trying to keep order, which means hitting the kids who are running around while screaming in a mix of Nepali English “Hey, Sit now. NO Talk.” Or my favorite come to the door, see me coming and go running into the classroom screaming “ MISS IS COMING, MISS IS COOOOMMMMIIIINNNGGGG!!!.” Needless to say teaching class 1 keeps me on my toes.

I also teach all of class 3 math, which is better then I thought. My whole life I avoided any type of math, and now I teach it. But it’s good and my basic math skills are really improving. Class 3 is an interesting mix of students caught between being little adults and being little kids. I am at a unique age, where they no longer feel like little kids, but are not too cool for things yet. So while they don’t want to play duck-duck goose, they are willing to make funny sounds as their team buzzer during review games. Also, they have some of the biggest personalities around which is fun.

St. Xavier’s has 8 period days with three breaks. A ten minute break for chiyaa in-between 2nd and 3rd period, Tiffin (lunch) after 4th period and then another ten minute break between 6th and 7th. It is so the kids can run around and get some of that energy out which is good. The school has 4 main buildings for classes. My classes are under Loyola hall, which is the main auditorium, and in the upper building. They are not connected so to go from building to building you go outside, which has been great in the monsoon season. I learned the hard way to always bring an umbrella to class! Besides class buildings, there is are two staff rooms, one up where chiyaa is served near the junior and senior classes, and one where no one goes near the younger classes, I’m sure you can guess where I was put. And then there is a canteen for those students who buy lunch, a library, computer lab and Jesuit residence where staff eats a delicious lunch of Dhaal Bhaat (lentils and rice) everyday.

One of my favorite things about the school is the swimming pool, not because I like swimming so much, but because it is a round fountain that students swim in. It can hold a little over 5 ft of water and they keep the level based on which class is in the water. I think Denise said it best that when class 1 & 2 swim it is reminiscent of Titanic.

After school depending on the day, I am either doing tuition which is after-school tutoring for students who live in the village, volleyball for class 9 &10, or Social club which is Social Justice type group. Although I am attempting to make my switch to dance club.
Then I sometimes head up to my family’s house where I have chiyaa, talk, and just relax. If I don’t stay the night, I head back, usually stopping at Mangoli Misses house (one of my favorite teachers) or other students houses, making it back in time to cook dinner depending on who’s night it is. Then we have community night once a week and spirituality night once a week (with Katie and Sean). If its not one of those nights, then I usually am doing school work, reading or if it’s winter and no power sleeping.

As I said life here is pretty simple, which is good when you balance it with gender dynamics, language barriers, being foreigner and all the heavier things we deal with. I still sometimes feel like this is all a big dream, and often can’t believe how lucky I am to know those I do here and to see and experience all that I do, but it is a day by day thing, as hard and wonderful as that can be.

Going Home

Mummy and I were cooking the other day, and as she placed more wood into the mud fire pit, she asked if this is what cooking was like in America. I still struggle with how to answer these questions. But it is moments like this that make me grateful for not being able to go home. I choose JVI because of it’s emphasis on being in solidarity with those we live and work with, which is why we are asked to stay for the whole two years in country. At first this seemed a little intense, but moments like that with Mummy, explain it to me. Most Nepali’s I know or interact with can’t even picture what America is like, unless they have seen a film and even that provides a skewed vision. The idea of actually going to America is reserved for a child, usually the smartest, and even then only if they can get a scholarship or more importantly a visa. For most Nepali’s though it is nothing more then a dream. So the idea of getting on a plane, going home for a few weeks and then coming back, is something I don’t think I could do. I could not imagine coming back to Godavari and explaining my trip home, or passing through Thamel telling the kids sniffing glue that I can’t give them a rupee, but I could spend thousands on a plane ticket home. And while I don’t think that it is wrong to go home, sometimes it brings a much needed revival, or some programs are more adapt to it, I just know that personally I could not reconcile my ability to easily travel between both worlds. I already struggle enough with being white and privileged in Nepal. It is hard to be caught between these two worlds. I may wear Khurtas or saris, work in the fields, have a family, speak the language, all of this, but I am still never going to be Nepali, because at the end of the day I still come from a privileged place, I still have white skin, I still get to go home to a comfortable life when my time is up. And while this is not a bad thing, because I did not do JVI to forget who I was, it is the difficult struggle I feel, as a privileged minority that makes the idea of going home for a quick trip, seem impossible.
Everyday we are shown privilege here in Nepal. Whether it’s something minor as not being watched in a store or something as big as being able to hike to Everest base camp. We work hard as a community to understand this privilege and not abuse it. In the summers it would be great to walk around in a tank top and shorts, it would be nice to eat nice foods or have a TV. It would be easy to not have to fight for the Nepali price and just pay the foreigner price, Life in general would be easier here if we lived like a foreigner and not a JV. We could eat out, drink, travel all over the country, buy nice things, have our clothes washed, and more, but what we would lose in significant and necessary experiences and relationships is unimaginable to my time here. I wouldn’t be able to laugh with Mummy when I try to cook with her, I would miss being able to look out our beautiful cracked windows at the students as they walk to school, our community wouldn’t bond over trivia pursuit, and in general I would lose what Nepal has meant for me. And while yes I miss my family and friends, and I would love to see them, I have come to realize that strengthening the connection with my family here is what I need to do to continue the solidarity I crave with Nepal and what it means in my life. This solidarity is what I need when I finally do have to return home, and with out the support of those I love here and what they bring to my life, I don’t know if I could make that trip.

The Dali Lama and Violence

I experienced violence in Nepal for the first time. Yes, I have seen Maoist protests, I have watched police keep the peace through intimidation, but I have never actually seen physical violence used before. That Nepal is just stories or history to me. While eating lunch with Pat, I noticed that the cars on the opposite side of the street had stopped and the ones on our side where no longer coming, so I though something’s happening, assumed it was another rally we would get a good view of and kept eating my naan. And then I heard the screaming, followed by the stampeding feet. As a group of 25 young Tibetans and monks came sprinting past our window, followed closely by the police with the long thick bamboo sticks they use to beat, I realized this was something completely different. I asked what happened and the waiter said “Mukti chAhanuhuncha.” They want freedom. We watched together as the Tibetans came running back at the cops the boldest yelling “Fuck You.” Or “You are like the oppressors.” In which the cops responded with resonating bangs of the bamboo sticks. It was a horrific sight, to see the police beating women, men and monks. To actually see it happen is beyond words. I’ve watched movies, or seen news footage, but to hear the scream, the anguish and to see the pain is indescribable. After, most had fled the police headed back up to the U.N. where the altercations started, and Pat and I ate in silence. We walked out of the restaurant and started to head back home which took us right past the U.N., but cars had started moving and things seemed to be fine. As we headed up towards the U.N., we saw a group of Tibetans gathered. I said it was okay to keep going because it was just a gathering and I had walked through them before. As we walked through the signs declaring a Free Tibet, a boycott of the Olympics and a return of the Dali Lama to Tibet, I felt the passion that pulsed through them, all the way to their fingers held up in the peace sign, holding the Tibetan flag with a pride reminiscent to post 9/11 America. As we made our way I looked up to see a group of Tibetans sitting directly in front of the armed police and realized this was no ordinary gathering, this was a standoff. I turned to Pat and said “We need to get out of here.” The only way to go was over the street fence and into the line of police. As I started to climb over I began to slip and reached for the hand that reached out, and looked up to see a Tibetan teen with a Free Tibet shirt under the Tibetan flag he had draped over his shoulders. I wish I could say that I took the flag and started yelling “Free Tibet.” But I simply said “Thank you and I’m sorry” hoping these two words would convey the guilt and regret I felt for crossing the police line, into safety. As Pat and I walked on the street past the Tibetans sitting in peace and the police waiting for the armed guards we saw barreling down the street two minutes later, and the 2 U.N. peace keepers standing in their blue vest behind the police, all I could think was Holy Shit, what just happened?
As I have been reading the paper this past week and seeing stories about the incident in Lhasou or how the Chinese have placed plain clothesed police along the Nepal-Tibet border, but the piece the struck me the most was how they described the actions of the Tibetans are “against the Buddhist tenants.” While Buddhism is anti-violence, as a human race we should be anti-human dignity abuse. For years the Tibetans have been oppressed and abused, I teach students who are orphaned refugees because of the conflict, we live near one of the larger Tibetan refugee camps in Kathmandu I have seen how people are trying to forget about Tibet. Schoolbooks no longer list Tibet as our bordering country, people believe “Free Tibet” is a cool sticker for their Nalgenes, but they are forgetting this isn’t just a for discussion in coffee houses or classrooms, this is life for so many people.
I was also struck by how people feel the Dali Lama is not doing enough to stop or condemn the violence. But how to stop a fire that has been burning for years, how to calm people who are losing their culture? What if Mexico came in and took over? Forcing us to lose our “American culture.” How to stop that anger? While I will not pretend to know everything or even a little about the Tibetan conflict, what I do know is that there is more pain then anger. To be forced from your home and not allowed back, to not be able to show your children where they are from, to be in permanent exile from your home, it does more then anger, it breaks the spirit. So as you read about all that is happening and see the news casts, remember this is more then just a protest, for some people this is very much about life, and their right to live.

“and Miss without education how will our country change?” That was the question I was asked by Avishak from class 6 yesterday on the bus ride home. It was in reference to how Kathmandu is currently out of petrol. This is more and more apparent from the lack of vehicles on the road, the lines that go on for miles at the gas pasals, and the armed military that surround the petrol station. It is no longer uncommon to see the army or police in riot gear along the streets, or to read about clashes, shoot on site curfews, and general disturbances throughout Nepal. We have no petrol, no government to change this, and people are beginning to take matters into their own hands. It is to the point where school buses can no longer get diesel, and therefore we can no longer have school. How to answer this question? How to understand a twelve year olds worry, when at his age my biggest concern was whether or not Matt thought I was cute.
As I read the paper and feel the change in Nepal, it is hard not to think of my students. It is an intense thing for me to pass by an armed officer with an automatic rifle, but what is that like for a 6 year old? How do they understand this? There is no way to hide this from them or to protect them, because they live it everyday. The past two days have brought many discussions and tears as I think about the future of Nepal and what that means for those I see running around SXG everyday. Most of these kids will never leave Nepal, and in a year and a half I get to go home. If things become bad here I have the magic ticket, a passport out of here. They don’t. And this idea breaks my heart.
Whenever I think of what may happen in Nepal and its future, students pop into my head. I think about Aditya, in class 2. He is really little for his age, and absolutely adorable. He is a kid who observes life, very indiscreetly, but you can just tell there is so much going on in his mind. I often watch him and his friends playing football during our chiyaa break, and it always warms my day. On the school bus Monday, he was forced into a seat with three other boys, and I could tell he was being squashed, but he said nothing, so I got up and told him to sit in my seat, as I bent down to hand him his backpack, he whispered (because he never speaks above a whisper) “Thank you miss.” Or Sanjay and Sofit who run around, dance in class and in general do things that they should get in trouble for but make me laugh instead (Sanjay has an uncanny ability to fall out of his chair). And then there is Mille and Julee twin sisters who love to talk with me during lunch asking questions about my favorite color, family, and if I get married can they come to my wedding?
I worry about what will happen to them. How it is unfair that they have to deal with this at such young ages and how helpless I feel. There is literally nothing I can do to change their futures. I sit by helplessly as I watch Nepal fall more into it-self. I can only hope that my prayers are heard by someone and things start to change. It’s just (to sound like a 4 year old) not fair, and I know life isn’t fair, but come on! People here are already dealing with poverty, water shortages, loadshedding, an unstable “government”, violence and now this. And the sad thing is, it effects the kids the most, because so often people just assume they are little and don’t understand anything, but it is because they don’t understand that you have to be more aware around them. They are little, not invisible.
I worry more for them then I do for myself. It just really is heartbreaking when you think of what this means for them. As I write this, we don’t have school because there was no petrol so the buses couldn’t run. It’s absurd to think that it is okay that school is cancelled because there is no gas. It is a major problem when schools are shut down. For awhile things have been on a downward spiral in Nepal, but it is finally hitting me, it is finally getting personal, when we have to start stocking up on food since the whole Tarai is on strike, or when my students can’t go to school. It hits home when I can cross a street that use to be packed with cars and now has maybe four or five or when armed militants running down the street greet me. I wish I could reassure students like Avishak that things will be okay, but to be honest, I just don’t know. I just don’t know how the country will change.

The (mis)Adventures of Teaching

Third grade is just as ridiculous as I remember. Life as a 9-12 year old is as dramatic and obnoxious as how much news coverage of B to the Spears is out there. But I am loving (most days) every moment of it. I am often bombarded by students asking me if they can go to the long toilet (our #2), saying that some random body part such as a finger nail is paining (hurting) or to simply, in my opinion drive me crazy, continual get up to sharpen their pencils. But I have been given some of the best laughs from these students as well. The other day I wore my glasses to school for the first time, and one of my favorites (every teacher has favorites no matter what they say) Ashwin, stands up and bursts out “MISS what happened to your face?!?” In which I thought what did happen to my face? He continued with “you are wearing those glasses!” In which I smiled and explained that the polite way to ask is “Miss, why are you wearing glasses today?” He laughed and said okay did a little dance I refer to as the Ashwin shake and we then learned about Quadrilaterals, which no one could say but we all had fun trying. And this is a typical day in class 3A.
3B however is a different story. The class is made up of 22 boys and 7 girls. Now while I don’t like to believe in the stereotypes, but this class has a reputation for being bad, and I do attribute it to their being 22 rowdy and ready to go boys. But to be honest they have quickly one a spot in my heart. They are the class that challenges me the most, has made me cry and has more importantly made me realize that everyone is human, even the little ones. For the first two weeks I came home horse and frustrated with why they just wouldn’t listen. I finally hit my breaking point during a particular hard class, acted like a third grader, and spent the weekend reflecting and realizing that I needed to grow up. Instead of wondering why they weren’t working well, I needed to realize why I wasn’t working. So I walked in on Monday and had one of the best conversations with 3B. We now have a kicking behavior chart, a better understanding, and most importantly respect, and that carries us both through the bad days. It is also, because of 3B that I have learned what a mom must feel when her kids are hurt. One afternoon in the midst of a riveting lecture on line segments, Siddhyartha called “MISS!!” in which I responded “What do you do when you want my attention?” He then raised his hand, so I came over (feeling quite proud of myself) and asked what he needed, he pointed to Mahin next to him and said “He is crying Miss, really crying!!” (in which that proud feeling quickly turned into feeling like an ass). I looked over and my heart dropped Mahin was crying, really crying. I tried to find out what was wrong, but all he could say was “My foot.” He tried to stand to go to the office, but could not put any weight on that foot, in which I became really scared. I picked him up and had Siddyartha and Nikesh follow me out to the hall. As I shouted over my shoulder for the students to be good I carried him up the stairs, trying to ask him what had happened to his foot but he kept saying “It hurts.” Once at the top of the stairs I had Nikesh and Siddyartha be his crutches and take him to the office, feeling torn between taking him myself and the 26 other students I had destroying the classroom. After class I walked into the office to see Mahin sitting in front of a heater with a foot swollen to twice its size, but he had calmed down. I spent the next 30 minutes playing I Spy while waiting for his mom to come and pick him up. When he returned to class three days later, he still didn’t know what had happened, but that day changed a lot for me. I constantly worry about my students, and their futures here. Mahin went to the hospital but they didn’t know what was wrong and his foot still hurts sometimes. The put tape over mumps, kids are constantly coughing because of the pollution, debris from a rock curie falls onto school grounds, and I feel helpless. As they say here “Ke Gharne?” What to do? I can’t change how things work, but I can do my best to be present to my students, and not get caught up in being the “teacher” especially since I think I may learn more from them.

Chaa Mahiana

It is hard to believe that I have passed my 6-month anniversary with Nepal; and what a time it has been. As I have been reflecting on my time here in Nepal I realized that nothing could have prepared me for what it has meant to me. I don’t think I ever felt an instant love for Nepal. At orientation we heard about how you have a honeymoon phase in which you are awed by all around you, I somehow, through the smells of burning tires, garbage on the streets, dogs who both loved and would bite me, hours of sweating and no water, missed that part. Not that I walked off the plane and hated where I was, but I definitely was not skipping through the streets hugging everyone and everything around me as they made that stage sound. Instead, I struggled. I struggled to find a place as the only new person in a community of 5, I struggled to find meaning in my work, I struggled not react to the cat calls or derogatory remarks, I struggled with language (including the time I said I bought Katie at the store), and I struggled with the decision I had made to knowingly distance myself from those I loved, and relationships important to me. This last one was the hardest, especially at the beginning. But then I began to experience and learn Nepal. It started with my first micro ride by my-self, continued as I began to speak Nepali outside the classroom, bargained for the price I wanted, wore my first khurta, went to festivals, had the first conversation with my aama in Nepali in which we both understood each other, the realization that I would be sad to leave Nepal if we were pulled out, and the longing to know more about the country I live in. I still continue to be amazed by what Nepal brings me, especially since I know I will never bring as much to Nepal.
It is hard to believe that I have transitioned from feeling that my time here will never end, to panicking that I only have a year and a half left?!? There is so much left that I want to learn and do before I head home, and it doesn’t seem like I have enough time to do it all. I want to learn how to make good dhal bhatt, I want to learn both Nepali and Hindi, I want to volunteer, see Mt. Everest up close, sleep in a cave, explore the Tarai, and just soak up all that Nepal is. I pass so many tourists on the streets that come and look at the pretty mountains or smile at the “exotic” culture, but I want to understand it. I want to come home and know the place I lived for two years.
Six months brings a good time to really question what am I doing here? Am I being nothing more then a glorified tourist? Am I willing to experience the culture here even if it pushes me outside my comfort? Am I willing to let go of the strings of home that I cling to? To let go of the fear of those I may lose at home, to open my heart to those I may gain here. As I was deciding to do JVI I read, “The way to change is to let go of fear” which is what ended up deciding for me. And just as it helped me to realize I have to risk what I feared to accept the change that Nepal would bring, I need to continue to risk my fears to have the courage to change and be changed.

Peace in Nepal?

This is the cover article for Time here. Below is also a link for a photo essay Time recently did of Nepal.

Comrade Sandhya's voice trembles as she speaks of her father. "He was a major in the Royal Nepalese Army," she begins, cupping her chin with one hand while rearranging a neat schoolgirl plait with the other. "When he found out I had gone underground, he said I was no longer his daughter — only his enemy. The next time he wanted to meet me was on the battlefield."
That encounter, to Sandhya's relief, never came to pass. In 1996, as a 14-year-old student from a town north of the capital Kathmandu, she joined Nepal's Maoist cadres at the moment when their armed insurgency had just begun to take hold of this rugged Himalayan nation, long a magnet for foreign backpackers and adventurers. Her father's military income meant Sandhya did not grow up among the country's many poor, but she chafed under the rigid caste laws and gender norms that blunted her parents' ambitions and stripped her of the same opportunities as men. The Maoists, led by their talismanic leader Pushpa Kamal Dahal, a.k.a. Prachanda, promised her and thousands of others nothing less than a complete reordering of society, and Sandhya gave herself to the struggle, fighting as a soldier in a decade-long civil war that claimed over 13,000 lives and displaced countless more.
Today, Sandhya sits batting away mosquitoes in a sparse wood cabin, part of a sprawling Maoist cantonment in the southern district of Chitwan. She believes victory is at hand. A peace process triggered by mass protests in April 2006 against the autocratic rule of Nepal's King Gyanendra brought the Maoists into the political mainstream, paving the way for the extraordinary transformation of a country ruled for two and a half centuries by Hindu kings into a secular republic. Both the Royal Nepalese Army and the Maoist guerrillas — the civil war's bitter foes — returned to their barracks and camps with the stated intention of eventually reforming into one new national force. "We all want democracy. No one here wants to fight again," Sandhya insists. Even her father, who has since retired, has reconciled with Sandhya. "He respects my decisions now," she says. "He realized I was a figure of change."
Change can bring uncertainty, however, not just for Nepal but for other countries. Nepal, a country of 28 million, is sandwiched between the world's rising giants, India and China, who both have cast their eye over the Himalayan nation as a buffer against the other. Any unrest in Nepal — hostilities have been suspended, not buried — could spill across into its restive borderlands, particularly Chinese Tibet and the troubled Indian state of Bihar — developments that Beijing and New Delhi would view with alarm. Nepal's Maoists, moreover, are still on the U.S. State Department's list of terror groups. They have traded their guerrilla hideouts for plush offices in the capital, but had a fearsome reputation for committing violence when the armed struggle raged.
Indeed, the hatreds that fueled the civil war threaten even now to bubble over. Elections for an assembly that would draft Nepal's new republican constitution are slated for April 10, but only after much bickering and dithering. Nepalis of all stripes are losing faith in the seven parties, including the Maoists, that make up the country's feuding interim government and see corruption and cynical power-politicking stifling the nation's slow reconstruction from the ashes of war. Over a third of the population still lives below the poverty line.
As the politicians fiddle in Kathmandu, a hundred mutinies burn around the country: vigilante gangs run rampant in the countryside, while ethnic groups long marginalized under the monarchy have taken to armed uprising, especially in the southern lowlands of the Tarai where over 40% of Nepal's population lives. A cocktail of anarchist elements, militant factions and a growing separatist movement hold sway there and prove a daunting challenge with elections coming in little more than two months. "What happened in Kenya could happen here," says Jayaraj Acharya, a former Nepalese ambassador to the U.N., speaking of the ongoing ethnic conflict in the African nation triggered by disputed elections, which has claimed hundreds of lives. "Only here," Acharya adds, "it will be worse."
A False Dawn
The security situation in a nepal under cease-fire is dismal. During the civil war, both the Maoists and the Royal Nepalese Army held brutal sway over segments of the country, but now, as they wait in their camps, law and order has deteriorated. Reports filter in every week of kidnappings for ransom. Last December, a Swiss trekker was beaten up after refusing to pay money to a few rogue Maoists, a worrying sign for a country heavily reliant on the money brought in by foreign tourists. Many in Kathmandu blame the Youth Communist League (YCL), created by the Maoists less than a year ago, for much of the disorder. Red YCL banners around parts of Kathmandu urge Nepalis to report "suspicious, reactionary activity" to cell-phone numbers emblazoned on the cloth. As soon as night falls in the capital — which, as a bastion for the King's army, had been safe during all of the years of the civil war — the usually teeming streets grow deserted. "The police have no motivation at all right now," complains Kanak Dixit, editor of Himal magazine and an outspoken advocate of democracy. "There is an alarming surge in crime."
Public safety isn't the only challenge the interim government has failed to negotiate. Fiscal mismanagement has led to chronic fuel shortages across the country; lines in Kathmandu extend for kilometers and prices have tripled in less than half a year. Last week, protests against rising fuel prices shut down the capital. Kathmandu residents face at least six hours of power cuts a day. The government has been unable to raise Nepal's middling growth rate, which hovers around 2%, and funds many of its programs on an IV drip of foreign aid. Trade-union activism and general strikes, some suspect spurred in part by the YCL, disrupt factories in outlying areas and basic services in the cities. During Christmastime around Kathmandu, sanitation workers had been agitating for over three months. Piles of garbage festered around every cobblestoned corner of the city, visceral reminders of a deeper rot seeping into the nation.
"We live in a broken state," says Mandira Sharma, a leading human-rights activist. For the past five years, she and her NGO, Advocacy Forum, have investigated hundreds of cases of disappearances that took place during the decade-long civil war. To Sharma, both the Maoists and the Nepal Army are guilty of a catalog of atrocities, from forced recruitment to extrajudicial killings. Attaining justice for the victims (and compensation for the nearly 200,000 displaced) ought to be as important to the country's push toward democracy as elections. "But human rights don't seem to be anyone's priorities here," she laments. "The problem is a failure of political leadership."
Elections for a Constituent Assembly, which have thus far been canceled twice, became the focal point of political squabbling. The first date, June 17 last year, was missed for mostly logistical reasons. Nepal simply wasn't ready at the time to hold a fair and efficient poll. But the Maoists scuppered the next date, November 22, much to the chagrin of many Nepalis as well as the international community. Reneging on earlier understandings, the Maoist leadership grandstanded on a set of demands that included the outright abolition of the monarchy before its fate could be determined by popular referendum. When the other parties — including the establishment Nepali Congress, the party of the country's current Prime Minister Girija Prasad Koirala — refused to accede to the Maoist agenda, the Maoists pulled out of the government and plunged the peace process into a rancorous impasse.
"It showed how unnatural the alliance is between all the interests in the interim government," says Kamal Thapa, a royalist politician who served as Home Minister under Gyanendra. Up till last year, the Congress Party had always defended the idea of constitutional monarchy, a commitment enshrined by their party following similar protests in 1990 that curbed royal power. But the need to assuage the Maoists changed the equation. "The Congress has had to understand the new political reality," says C.P. Gajurel, a top Maoist politician, "and it has been difficult for them."
The Maoists see themselves as the agents of democracy in Nepal, stifled by the objections of reactionary, status-quo forces, while many in the Congress, let alone in factions aligned still to the ancien régime of the monarchy, doubt the radical guerrillas' commitment to any political scenario where they may not retain complete control. Despite a compromise thrashed out at the end of last year, which set elections for this April, observers expect conflict to be inevitable. "What more must we give the Maoists?" asks R.S. Mahat, Nepal's Finance Minister and a Congress Party member. "Their strategy is simply to create crisis. They are not honest."
This distrust speaks volumes of Nepal's present predicament, where parties spar over everything from the distribution of ministries to the appointment of ambassadors. "There is no genuine consensus at all," says Rhoderick Chalmers, Nepal expert for the International Crisis Group. Continued discord only strengthens the hand of the weakened King. Though the throne has lost much of its credibility under Gyanendra, many Nepalis still look to the institution as a source of stability and unity. "You can't legislate away the emotional link of the people," says Thapa. Others, including journalist Dixit, fear further squabbling and political anarchy could lead to a more ominous "right-wing backlash ... where royalist elements in the army would step in on the pretext of stability." Further heightening tensions, Prachanda, the Maoist leader, made noises as recently as November about returning the people's war to the jungle if progress toward a republic wasn't made. "Either through [the Maoists] or through the army," warns royalist Thapa, "we are going to see some sort of authoritarian solution."
The End of Kings
The threat of a coup may be exaggerated, but it points to perhaps the single greatest achievement of the Maoist insurgency: the unraveling of a national myth. Nepal came into being through the 1768 military campaign of King Prithvi Narayan Shah and his army drawn from Gurkha tribes in the hills near Kathmandu. Ever since, Nepal's polity has remained largely unchanged: its borders an approximation of the land conquered, its political élites tied to old families close to both the monarchy and the army, and its princely rulers all descended from the same messianic line. Power and legitimacy radiated outward from the palaces of Kathmandu into a highly hierarchical society in the countryside, where feudal mores and caste discrimination still hold sway. Propped up first by the British, keen to have a client buffer to the north of its imperial heart, and later India, this arrangement rarely had to fear outside interference and had remained roughly intact for more than two centuries.
Nepal's monarchy hammered the nail in its own coffin in spectacular fashion in 2001, when Crown Prince Dipendra gunned down 10 members of the royal family, including the much beloved King Birendra, and then allegedly shot himself. The attack, clouded by conflicting reports and conspiracy theories, sent shock waves around the world and plunged Nepal into existential crisis. With a centuries-old dynasty virtually eliminated overnight, in stepped the reigning King's brother, Gyanendra. As the Maoist insurgency raged, Gyanendra declared a state of emergency in 2005, arresting mainstream political leaders and assuming absolute power. But he could not quash the Maoists, whose influence grew apace in rural areas around the country. Rumors swirled depicting Gyanendra as a man given to superstition and mysticism, who would sooner look to the stars or a coterie of tantric priests for counsel than his political advisers. "He wanted control, he wanted to be a heroic savior," says a source close to the court, "but he had few actual ideas, if any."
Gyanendra's power play worked to the advantage of the Maoists. Their urban cadres and activists played a prominent part in the 19 days of mass demonstrations in April 2006 that ended King Gyanendra's absolute rule and led to the reconvening of parliament. The surge of popular goodwill at the time catapulted the guerrillas out of their jungle redoubts and into the international limelight. Prachanda, whose very existence had been in doubt only a few years before, appeared on televisions regionwide, saluting crowds and pressing the flesh. A King had been toppled, a war ended, and change in Nepal looked very much on the way.
The Way Forward
Little has gone according to script since the people-power protests 22 months ago. In November 2006, the Maoists committed to a peace accord with other prominent pro-democracy parties in Nepal and joined the new interim government that would rule until elections for a Constituent Assembly could take place. But the acrimonious squabbling that followed has dispelled many of the hopes raised by the success of the mass demonstrations. "We just felt so proud being Nepali then," says Sanjog Rai, a college student in Kathmandu. "The protests showed us how united we were and that feeling of brotherhood gave us real hope for a better future. Now we're stuck with politicians who have no vision and only care about keeping power."
There is a broad consensus among Nepal's strife-worn people that parliamentary democracy must come sooner rather than later. "A functioning government can't be in a permanent state of transition," says Bojraj Pokhrel, chief of Nepal's Electoral Commission. Now, Pokhrel will have to manage a staff of over 230,000 election workers spread across the mountainous country, some in polling stations miles away from local roads. Highways and bridges were routinely bombed during the civil war, making transportation in a nation with woeful infrastructure difficult at the best of the times. Still, Pokhrel is confident Nepal has the means to carry the elections out. "The people are all hungry for this," he says.
But they'll remain disappointed as long as the interim government's leaders fail to forge any meaningful political unity. "It's a testing time for them," says Acharya, the former ambassador to the U.N. "One wonders if they'll prove their statesmanship." The only indication that they will, most observers drily point out, is that neither the Maoists nor the Congress Party have any better alternative other than sorting out their differences and calming the many fractious forces that might undermine April's polls.
If they don't, the international community must do more to safeguard elections and move the peace process forward. Nepal's giant neighbors, India and China, both backed the monarchy during the civil war, supplying it with weapons and aid. India, which has close ties with virtually every faction in Nepal, eventually shepherded the peace process along, forcing the main political parties to come to terms with the Maoists. China has remained a bit more circumspect, letting India flex its geopolitical muscle while building bridges with the Nepali Maoists it shunned until not long ago and beefing up its hydropower investments along Nepal's glacial rivers. As the budding superpowers expand in influence and ambition, many see Nepal falling into the crosshairs of a new "Great Game" for the 21st century.
Beyond the turmoil and political intrigue looms the very real chance that Nepal might join the region's sorry list of failing states — populated already by Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and Pakistan. Besides forging alliances and staging elections, the country and its politicians need to steel themselves for the thorny task of drafting a constitution that reconciles its feuding factions and enfranchises all its kaleidoscope of ethnic groups. "This is a crisis hundreds of years in the making," says S.D. Muni, a Nepal scholar formerly at Jawaharlal Nehru University in New Delhi. "Whole groups have never been in the political structure. You have to in effect create a new Nepal."
Back in Sandhya's Chitwan camp, the commander, named Biwidh, clings to such hope. From a poor, indigenous-minority family, he speaks urgently of peace and of the need for a competitive, multiparty democracy. A slight man with a scarred, weathered face, Biwidh looks much older than his 34 years, and describes his time spent warring in the jungle with primitive rifles and stones in hushed, quick breaths, as if he would rather forget about it. As Nepal lurches from one crisis to another, Biwidh says the soldiers in his camp are in a permanent state of readiness. "If the revolution must be fought again," he sighs, turning his head to the setting sun, "it will be."

http://www.time.com/time/photogallery/0,29307,1708984_1527435,00.html

Chiyaa

A few Sundays ago I went into Thamel to do a little Christmas shopping. Katie and I had, ordered rice bags that were being made into purses and I was picking them up. When I walked up the backstairs to the sewing room of the shop, I was greeted by Krishna and Ram, the father and son who own the shop. I was informed the bags were not ready but would be "soon." Soon in Nepal could be anywhere from a half hour to a half a day. I was contemplating what I could do to "kill" the time. Shop a little more? Go to the office and check e-mails? What to do? My thoughts were intreupted by Krishna saying "Mero bihani baschu, tapaii chiyaa khanus." Which simply means my little sister sit and drink tea. As I stumbled to think of reasons why I could not, things to do, people to see, Krishna left, and Ram informed me he is bringing tea. So I pulled up a stool and sat. As I sat and watched Ram work, I was able to hear more his life. He has worked in his father's shop since he was seven (he is now 27), but would like to open his own shop some day. He has been to France, and Germany, because a family he met in Nepal and worked for now lives there and paid for him to come. He use to live in a tent village on the river, but was able to move into houses run by an NGO, because his father was their Nepali translator, all of which he did for no cost. His mother works at home, but spends her days going back to the tent villages and streets around their house and takes care of the poor and sick however she can, whether its bringing them home to bathe or cloth them, or simply to talk with them. As we were talking Krishna came in with our chiyaa, and the conversation continued. We shared about our families, home, and the work we do. As I got ready to leave, I asked Krishna what I owed for the chiyaa, in which he laughed and said nothing. He explained, Chiyaa is more then a drink, it is the time spent drinking chiyaa that is important, and that you must always find time to drink chiyaa. I smiled thanked them both, hoping they knew that I meant for both the bags and the time. As I walked out the door Krishna called after me, Remember, my bhaini always have time for chiyaa.

A few days ago, Katie and I were in a rush to meet a friend when we walked past Krishna and Ram's shop, we stopped in for Katie to return a purse. As we walked in we were greeted by Krishna saying come have chiyaa. And so we sat, drank tea, and were ridiculously late in meeting our friends, but I will always have time for chiyaa.

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year to All! With the new year comes a new look, it was mentioned that the dark background was hard to read so I updated the blog, hope you enjoy the new look! New Years was spent dancing the night away at a ceilidh. It was a wonderful way to bring in the New Year. Wishing you all the peace and joy in 2008!

A Challenge to Love

In high school I took a class called loving. It was mainly about how we are called to love others and self, and all aspects of what “love” is. I took the class because who doesn’t like the idea of love? But as I continue life here in Nepal I am learning that love is ever so complicated, especially loving those who are loved least. As I walk down the street, street children and women begging for money, or food often bombard me. Every time I come upon them, I freeze, a part of me wants to reach into my bag and give a rupee and the other part, hears “Don’t perpetuate the cycle.” This cycle being white people have money and will give it to me. Which as I have experienced is true. I work in Thamel, which is the major tourist area of Nepal. It is the “downtown” of Kathmandu if you will. And numerous times I have seen tourists reach into their pockets and place a hundred rupee note into their bowl, mainly because it is a little over a dollar to them, but in Nepal a hundred rupees can buy, a nice meal, warm clothes, and glue to sniff, with a little left over, all that a child could want. So why would they give up this life? They probably make more on the streets in Thamel then they could if they got a job, and its not as much work. So where does that leave me? It is hard to walk pass the same men each day who crawl along the streets, or the children who run up to me glue bag in hand and snot coming from their nose. I feel the tug to give, but I usually end up saying Namaste and move on. It’s also the reason we rarely go out in Thamel, because how can we pass a child that morning and say I can’t give you money, and then walk by that same child that night on our way to a bar or restaurant? And then there are the children by our house. While in Thamel I find it easier to say no, because most kids are strung out and I can’t support that and I know that there are tourists on their way to give a couple hundred rupees to them. But by our house the same family of women and children approach me at least three times a week. And it’s hard because here the women and children will grab you, and hold onto you as you try to walk away. And no matter how many times I try to say politely I’m sorry Didi but I don’t have anything, it usually takes me saying Roknu, a command form for them to let go, that or someone pushing them off me which leaves me fighting back tears and wondering was that really worth it? Wouldn’t it have been easier just to give them a rupee?
I have thought about this a lot, especially with the Christmas seasons. In almost all of the major religious teachings there is mention of loving one another. In Buddhism we are taught “Hurt not others in ways you yourself would find hurtful,” in Islam “No one is a believer until you desire for another that which you desire for yourself,” and Jesus taught us “love one another as you wish to be loved.” When I was home I tried to practice this, if I had change in my pocket or extra food and someone asked for it I gave it to them no questions asked. And why? Because I hoped that if I was in their situation someone would do the same for me. This belief is what led me to Nepal. Where I currently ignore pleas for hunger or help, because I don’t want to perpetuate a cycle? But will my not giving really end this cycle? Yes, it might be a step in the right direction, but at the same time, there were stigmas to me giving at home too. I was a white college student, just like I am a white person here, yet for some reason being in a foreign country changes this? I understand why it is not good to keep this idea of being white and giving, but at the same time, what is the cost of this? Going hungry? And it is different here. Nepal has no stable government, very few out reach programs to help, and many of these women and children are on the streets because husbands or parents have abandoned them.
So what to do? While I don’t know if I will ever find a solution I am happy with, one thing is that I have started carrying fruit on me, which I give instead of money, especially while in Thamel, so that they actually get food. Though, the reaction is usually that of disdain, and I walk away feeling the same as if I didn’t do anything. Which I think comes from the lack of connection I feel. And it also opens doors into my attitude of appreciation. Why does someone need to appreciate something? And it’s a good thing that even when I help I still feel uneased because this situation is more then handouts and food, it is a larger problem involving the country and its ability to throw its children to the streets. It is good that I am constantly questioning and looking for ways to help. I also have realized just how important it is to learn Nepali, because it is my only way to communicate with people, especially the children who are so used to being ignored. And at the end of the day the fact is that they are children who are just looking for someone to care. So while taking “Loving” was a wonderful concept, as I sat in that classroom, never did I think my idealistic ideas of love would be challenged so much, and it may be one of the most important challenges I will continue to face. And if the challenge is to love, then what a beautiful thing that is.