May 27th - Kathmandu
Our first post-volunteering update. How does this work? We’re not yet clear on how to proceed with these website entries, who will read them now that we’ve completed what we set out to do. We hope that some of the people we’ve met during our journey will continue to take a look at the site from time to time, and that by writing about our experiences outside Asia we’ll be reciprocating a process that we’ve been on the receiving end of. We’ve been given so many insights into lives and cultures which differ from our own; perhaps now is the time to return the favour. And the reflections on our experiences will continue to surface and demand inspection and development.

Kathmandu was our first port of call when we crossed back into Nepal after a long, delayed, baking train journey. Almost as soon as we hit the ground in Boudhanath, Edmund , heavily burdened by luggage, tripped on some uneven ground and did minor damage to his ankle, so he spent the next few days doing what he’d hoped to do – lying around reading trashy novels – though he hadn’t quite anticipated the circumstances which would enforce this fantasy! Eventually we hobbled along to Fatima, a highly-recommended Tibetan acupuncturist whose clinic was conveniently just down the road from our guesthouse. For the next 3 hours Edmund was pleasantly subjected to massage, electrotherapy, acupuncture, pungent footbaths (and delicious tea – for the palate, not the foot!) and more massage, then sent away with ointments and pills to further the healing process. His ankle improved gradually, and we were soon able to revisit Namo Buddha, where we did some warm-up walks prior to a trip to new territory: Pokhara.

Pokhara reminded us of Pai, in northern Thailand, where we lingered a week with no difficulty at all, embraced by the efficient and soothing tourist infrastructure there. It was low season in Pokhara, so the few tourists who were around were in demand, wooed endlessly by the countless guesthouses, eateries, and shops in the lakeside area, which differs hugely from the rest of Nepal’s second city. We allowed ourselves to be lured to a guesthouse which suited us down to the ground, and for the best part of a week we spent the days walking, exploring , stopping for refreshment whenever the mood hit us, and reading more somewhat less than taxing novels. It was a perfect holiday spot. We even managed to visit a community for orphaned/abandoned children which runs as a small village, complete with a government school which integrates the kids from the community with those from the local villages. We noticed lots of orphanages and childrens’ homes in Pokhara, and are sure many of them are legitimate and doing great work, but there is also a great deal of exploitation of children in some of these organisations, and circumspection is essential when you get involved. We were impressed by the community we visited, and noticed on the map that there are at least three SOS Children’s Villages in the Pokhara area, plus a couple of sizeable settlements of Tibetan refugees. It’s a beautiful setting, and would be an interesting area to be based in. It’s definitely been dropped into our “Possibility Box”!

On our return journey to Kathmandu from Pokhara, we hopped off the bus and hiked up a hill to Bandipur, a village highly recommended by guidebooks and friends. An unspoiled ridge town which has not yet been corrupted by tourism and seems to be developing with care and sensitivity, it boasts a number of Hindu shrines, a bat cave, various hikes of interest, views of the high mountains (when the air is clear) and a glimpse into the normal workaday life of many Nepali people. We spent a night, but were plagued by bedbugs, so opted to return to Kathmandu the next day for some sleep, as the lodging in Bandipur is limited. If you visit Nepal, Bandipur is definitely worth putting on your agenda. It’s not far off the Kathmandu-Pokhara road, and you don’t HAVE to hike up the old traders’ route to get there; busses also ply the tarmacked route!

Back in Kathmandu, we based ourselves in Thamel, the heart of tourism, and spent a couple of days window-shopping before Ange and Annelies, a Belgian friend who we met in Norway, now living in Kathmandu, took a trip up to Namo Buddha. Edmund stayed in town and relocated to Boudhanath, from where we’re writing just now.

According to some school s of Buddhism, this is the month the Buddha was born, achieved enlightenment, and died; therefore it is considered a particularly auspicious time of the year, and in the early morning and evening, when the sun is not so gruelling, the area around the Boudhanath stupa is teeming with visitors, locals, and pilgrims. When Annelies and I arrived at Namo Buddha, preparations were underway for a 2-day puja dedicated to His Holiness the Karmapa and Thrangu Rinpoche. The main prayer hall in the new temple was clean and being laid out with offerings that would be blessed and distributed to the monks, including items such as cheese balls and chocolate biscuits, and the cushions, instruments (horns and drums, mainly – apologies for not knowing their proper Tibetan names!) and paraphernalia associate with the puja were being carefully put in place. This was an event which included the shedra monks – those who have embarked on the 7-year course in Tibetan language, religion, and philosophy – as well as many of the younger monks, some of whom only recently joined the monastery.

The puja was riveting, and although our legs were stretched to what felt like their limit, unaccustomed as they were to being crossed for long periods of time, the time passed quickly, and the prayers were anything but monotonous, ranging from gentle, quite familiar strains to vigorous, booming chants accompanied by insistent percussive beats. There were also tea sessions; after an hour or so, pots of sweet tea appeared and bowls/cups were filled and refilled, but the proceedings didn’t exactly grind to a halt to allow for leisurely drinking. As the tea cooled in our vessels, prayers continued, and only at a particular time was the tea raised to lips. Later in the morning the teapots reappeared, this time with Tibetan butter tea, which I couldn’t drink on a regular basis, but in this setting I enjoyed with something approaching relish!

Throughout the morning it was clear that some of the monks were not familiar with the prayers being chanted or sung, and when an opportunity presented itself, we asked a friendly monk about this. He explained that simply being present at the puja, even without understanding, brings merit to you in the next life. It takes many years of dedicated study to understand the scriptures, the prayers which are memorised from the time a boy becomes a monk. It was interesting to hear that there is a perceived value in simply being at the puja. The whole notion of accumulating merit which will take effect in another life is one which I have difficulty grasping, but it’s fascinating; no doubt about that!

The monastery is seething with construction work at the moment, with an official opening of the main temple planned for early 2008, when everything needs to be ready: the new school, clinic, dining hall/kitchen complex, residential buildings, and more. It’s quite a production! One of the less visible activities taking place involves the preparation of the interior of the temple. There are many tens of hundreds of niches in the temple ready to receive Buddha statues about a foot or so in height. The statues are being painted, and inside each of them will go a meticulously prepared set of mantras, written prayers. When Edmund and I visited Namo Buddha a fortnight ago, there were vast piles of these mantras spread out on the floor. The papers are wiped with saffron, dried, cut, flattened, and carefully rolled by teams of monks and nun who have been recruited for the huge effort. Annelies and I had a peek at the room where the rolling production line was impressively hard at work. The final filled Buddha statues can be sponsored. We will be content with merely visiting once the temple is complete; it’s a visual treat, and when a puja is taking place, a multi-sensory feast.

For the past 10 days or so many of Nepal’s schools have been forcibly closed while demands for change are being considered. These demands ostensibly address inequities between private and government schools; ironically, many private schools underpay teachers and offer little to their students, and the demands include a call for equal pay for teachers at government/private schools. There’s also a call for contracts for private school teachers (many of whom don’t have an official document of this sort) and the placement of a member of the ISTU (which according to some people is a front for the Maoists) on the management board of every school. Hmmm. Here are a few thoughts from a respected weekly media source here:

If you thought the prolonged closure of all the nation’s schools is about education, think again.
‘Education Republic Front’, even the name gives it away. This is the hitherto unknown group that has forced nearly eight million students to stay home for the past week. Most people ask: how can they do that? Why don’t the parents rise up? Why don’t teachers defy the call?
Two reasons. First, there is a genuine crisis of commercialisation of the country’s education system. This has pushed costs and put quality education out of reach of most Nepali families. This is a genuine grievance, and represents the failure of successive governments to regulate private education. Second, students, teachers and parents are not defying the strike call becomes it comes with a threat of direct violence. Militant teachers and students padlocking schools have warned staff that those who remove locks can have their hands chopped off.
In an ironic twist, the Maoists have achieved a classless society, at least temporarily. If this long-term, nation-wide closure of schools was really about improving education, the Maoists would ahve tried to upgrade the quality of government schools so we wouldn’t need private ones.
Simply put, this is mass political action by the Maoist party to keep up the pressure on the governing alliance. It is a cynical use of children for political ends which has been condemned in the strongest terms by human rights groups and child rights activists.

So teachers are not allowed to teach. But check out what’s happening at SMD. The students have organised themselves, and the older students have taken responsibility for teaching  the younger children. Isn’t that something? This is a purely student-driven move; the adults here are not allowed to be involved. But SMD kids are encouraged to take initiatives, to use Kid Power, to take the reins when appropriate or necessary. It sounds like they’re learning a lot, too, through the process of organising, of deciding who should do what and how the timetable should look. It’s yet another reason for us to be impressed by this school. Another WOW.