Buses

One can effectively travel through Nepal these days without ever having to encounter Nepali culture. Traveling between the tourist hubs of Thamel (in Kathmandu) to Chitwan to Pokhara, perhaps even to the Khumbu (Everest Region), a tourist will definitely encounter a whole of a lot of haggling (Tiger Balm? Pashmina?), heaps of restaurants with the same novel-length ‘international’ menu, ugly hippie clothes, and fluorescent bedspreads in their guest house- but never will they come across culture. Take a local bus from the Ratna Bus Park, and all that changes. Not only will you be fully immersed in the sounds, smells, and textures of Nepal, you will forget that you ever had a sense of personal space, you will obligingly take on other people’s children as your own, and you will disregard the small mountain of fossilized vomit that is prohibiting your window from opening.

Mind you, I have taken a local bus before. My journey to Sangachok just reminded me of how perfectly serendipitous, and painful, a local bus journey in Nepal can be, and I wanted to share. I woke up on Thursday morning at the usual 6:15 am, a time I can’t seem to shake after my weeks at the orphan home, and headed out to find some breakfast and Wi-Fi. I was to meet Durga and head north through the hills to Sangachok, in Sindupalchowk, at around 10 am. It is working with First Steps Himalaya that I am to spend my next week, helping out wherever needed in any of the 7 Early Childhood Development Centres that they have established in the Sindupalchowk region. When I finally did meet up with Durga, he had collected an array of items for the ECD centers that resembled a traveling Toys R Us. After 5 minutes convincing the taxi driver that we could indeed fit all of it into his cab, we were off to Ratna Bus Park, where I believe I had been before, when Becca and I climbed aboard the godforsaken 9 hour bus to Jiri three years ago. A little bit of a cluster-f***, as most bus parks are (even in the ‘developed’ world), it was easy enough to find the bus, as Durga is Nepali and I just chugged along behind him toting supplies. $1.50 later we were on the bus, and I was surprised at how quickly we got moving.

As our bus pulled out of the park, I was relieved to find that our driver was more of the “slow ambling pace” than the “pedal to the metal” variety, until I found out that he would not leave 1^st gear until we were well out of the Kathmandu Valley. Even after that, I’m pretty sure we only ever made it to 2^nd. While people walking from village to village passed us, our bus made its snail pace up and into the foothills of the Himalayas. Durga and I found the pace amusing, until the bus got so packed to the gills that I had a teenage boy pressing himself into my shoulder, with my nose closer to his armpit than I ever want to relive. At some stage we stopped for a minute and Durga lept up and stated that he “had to go to the stationary store”. Five minutes later the bus was pulling away, with Durga making a mad dash for the door. He had to pick up some apples, I guess. Taking the vacant window seat opportunity, I left Durga for the aisle, to which an unknowing woman gradually made her way as far into Durga’s lap as is humanly possible without sitting on it. His nose nearly in her purse, I jokingly told him that he should take something out. He snooped for a bit, but noted that there was nothing of any use.

Three hours into the journey, two young dusty haired brothers dressed in equally dusty school uniforms hopped on the bus. When Durga asked them where they were headed, the younger replied that they were headed to Sangachok. Durga then scooped up the young one and plopped him between the two of us, commanding him “sutne jau”- go to sleep. If I had to pick one thing about Nepali children that amazes me the most, it would be their ability to sleep on command. This little guy though, tried painfully hard to stay awake, every so often giving me a sideways glance, as if falling asleep would surely mean doom in the hands of the scary white lady who keeps smiling. I tried my best not to scare the poor child, and instead focused my time on keeping my feet from falling asleep, as the jackknife position I had assumed was cutting circulation to nearly all of my appendages. I pity the Nepali that is anywhere near 6 feet tall.

Eventually we did make it to Sangachok, a quiet town high in the hills with sleepy street dogs, friendly people, and a view like you can’t believe. I met Leela and Kamal, who are not only my host family but pioneers of the ECD center with Durga. They have two children, 12 year old Ashish, and 15 year old Anu, who Leela pointed out is, “tall and thin, like you!” Already welcoming us into their 2-storey Newari home with some of the most delicious daal bhat I have ever had, Leela’s family is all smiles and nothing but warmth. Already I’m loving the pace of village life, and tomorrow we are on to the ECD Center to hang out with some kids.

Kids (Part 2)

Shina and Preana- 13 and 10 years old, respectively

I hesitate to describe these sisters together, but truth be told, I don’t know enough about either of them to give them justice in their own descriptions. The girls arrived just one month before I did, and Shina seems to have melted into the pre-teen contingent of girls at Harka quite nicely. Preana, on the other hand, has her moments when I’m pretty sure she has no idea what to think of the place still. Neither girl speaks any English worth merit, and I believe both were a little angry with themselves about it while I was there. At one point, Shina even said to me, with a pathetic look of disdain, “Miss, English no good.” They made the other children (Tenzin included) look like English-speaking-superstars.

I can understand that each girl is still getting their ground in a new home, but individually and together they were probably the most annoying of the children there. While Shina is extremely loud and physically boisterous, barking around and screaming god-only-knows-what in Nepali, Preana is often a baby and whines about the smaller children taking her toys. At times I felt awful for thinking them annoying, as I have no idea where/what situation they came from, but as Preana’s only English word was “This!” to which she screamed with increasing crescendo whenever she was around me (often as a string of “This! THIS! This! This…” with pointing and gestures) I would often find myself seeking peaceful refuge in my own thoughts.

All of this being said, the girls are great helps around the home, with Shina always helping cook and Preana taking on any task she is assigned (including carrying 4 chickens by herself- “Miss, THIS!”). I’m sure it will just take a bit of time for Preana to get used to having 17 brothers and sisters, and for Shina’s English to improve. Though neither girl is very good in school (I got the distinct impression that they haven’t been to school that much in their lives) the other children at the home set a good example.

Bisal- 12 years old

As aforementioned in a blog, Bisal is like the sun on a cloudy day. Perpetually smiling and laughing, he always has something new and exciting that he found or invented that he wants to show me. I like to think that he is the best student of the bunch, because it seems like he would be, but I actually have no idea. He is, by far, the best English speaker for his age, and rightfully so as his favorite subject in school is English (he claims that his teacher is awesome, but I met him and the guy doesn’t speak any English worth a dime so I think Bisal may just be a natural).

Bisal has been at Harka for two years, so he arrived just a year after Becca and I visited. He is an integral part of the orphan home now, as he is the second oldest boy. After Manish left (a mentor to Bisal, I can safely assume from Bisal’s stories about him), someone had to step up and take on more of the physical labor at the home, and Bisal is about as happily obliging (despite his minute stature) a volunteer as any. It is almost as if, at the age of 12, he understands that being at a place like Harka is a privilege as an orphan, and will help however he can. It often makes me wonder where he came from, that he appreciates what he has so much at Harka. Laxmi says he has absolutely no family left, so it almost makes me think that he worked in a tourist area because his English is so good.

Usually the first of the boys up in the morning, he gets all the little ones out of bed before hopping on the bike to take the buffalo’s daily 2 liters of milk to the market. Later he’ll make tea, clean all the chicken water and food, and work through the compost/manure/gas system (not sure what goes on there). In between he squeezes in a little bit of school work, lots of top throwing, and more bike riding before bedtime, when he always wakes up the earlier-sleeping younger boys to go pee, so they don’t wet their bed. To all effects that Soniya is a mother, Bisal is a father (and not in the Nepali sense of the word either). One of Laxmi’s dreams that she confessed to me, is that when Bisal turns 18, a volunteer will sponsor him to work in the United States or Europe, as she can tell he will succeed in whatever he tries (and I couldn’t agree more).

Sujan- 10 years old

I think Sujan won my heart the day he decided to give me a Nepali lesson. He found my “Spoken Nepali” book for Peace Corps workers, and was thrilled to read words and short sentences to me in Nepali. If I was not able to translate them, he would translate them for me. If he didn’t know the English word, he would describe the situation or word using words he did know. Not only did it help me (we did it almost every day), it helped him use his English. Perhaps he got more comfortable with me and thus felt he could use it more, but Sujan’s English is probably the best of the little ones, and comparable to Soniya and the older girls.

Brothers Sujan and Suman have been at Harka for about a year, I think, though no one could remember for sure. While Suman acts younger than he is, Sujan tries to act older. He follows Bisal around everywhere, and helps with as much manual labor as his tiny frame can handle. The older boys treat him with respect, and though he isn’t much older than his brother or Shishir, he seems decades more mature. Sometimes it almost seems ridiculous that he still eats with the little ones and goes to the little kid school. Then of course, I look at him, and realize that he is still only a little boy. Sometimes it amazes me what these little children can do.

Though he does help a lot, most of his time is still dedicated to playing. Sujan has perfected his top throwing skills, and was rewarded with a Buddhi-crafted top last week, to which he couldn’t have been happier. He is also one of the major K’Naan supporters at the orphan home (Bisal and Sima being #1 and 2), and I often found him singing the words to “People Like Me” in his room. At one point he even asked me, “What this mean, people like me?” So cute, but try to explain poverty- and war-affected rappers to a 10-year-old rural Nepali. Instead I just said ‘people that move their homes’.

**Look forward to a movie of Bisal, Sujan, and Shishir, dancing to the entire tune ‘When I get Older”. Sima kidnapped my camera and choreographed a number involving sunglasses and some intense dance moves.

The kids (part 1)

(photos, in order: Sima, Soniya, Sirjana, Buddhi)

One of my favorite documentary film series is the Up series, in which the creator follows the lives of 14 British children since 1964, when they were 7 years old. The children were chosen from a wide variety of socio-economic backgrounds at the time, with the assumption that social class determines a child’s future. However, with the slated release of 56 Up, the turns each of their lives has taken is completely random.  Just as I did the last time I was here, I thought it would be apt to give a tidbit on each of the children at Harka. After all, in kid years 3 years seems like a lifetime! I would like to continue to come back at regular intervals throughout the course of these children’s lives, as I have realized that the returning presence is not only greatly appreciated, it is the establishment of a reliable adult figure other than Laxmi Mommy. I have something of a dream that if I follow a somewhat typical life-path, I will have a reliable job and can continue to visit Nepal every few years, but also possibly fund the children to come to the States to work for a summer (Nannying? Working for me?) as they (and I) grow up. After all, English immersion would be indispensable as a skill in Nepal’s job market. But that is just ideas I’m talking about now. On to the kiddos.

Sirjana Gurung – 14 years old

The other day I found myself thinking a lot about Sirjana. When I was living in Takaka in New Zealand, a lot of teenagers would hang around at our house with one of our flatmates, among which were a slew of 14 year old girls (some of whom happened to also work at the Pohara Store, when I worked there). These girls repulsed me a bit, as I found absolutely nothing in common with their boob-showing, cell-phone addicted, already-drunk selves. At 14, I was a lot more like Sirjana, getting used to a more feminine body by experimenting with fashion (she’s always been a slave to the fashion gods), altering my own clothes (she’s taking tailoring classes), gossiping about boys in hush, for fear of them hearing, and being goofy with my girl friends. Maybe that’s why I love her so much.

It seems that in the past three years, she has actually gotten less dramatic and become more mature, while still maintaining a little childlike wild side. Sometimes she’s just a total teenager and sleeps late and avoids her chores by hiding somewhere around the orphan home. She does my hair, dresses me up when I let her, and gives me unabashed comments on my wardrobe, my style, my boyfriend, and pretty much anything else she feels like. When I told her that I wear way cooler clothes when I’m at home, she said she knew, because she had seen pictures, and that I need to send her some of my old stuff.

Sirjana is in class 6 (roughly 7^th-8^th grade), so she is doing fairly well in school, despite her aversion to school work. As it was exam time while I was visiting, she and Soniya usually got up at 4:30 or 5 in the morning to go to school to study with their teacher for 3 hours before coming home, eating rice, and returning for the exam. When I return to Harka in two weeks, the exam results will be in, and she will know if she passed to class 7! She doesn’t know how she did…though in Nepal one only needs a 38% to pass to the next class level.

I have never asked Sirjana about where she came from, just as I have always felt a little apprehensive about asking any of the children. Laxmi has only told me that she has no remaining family, so she will definitely be at the orphan home until she gets married. One night, while Laxmi and I were talking late into the night, she confided in me that she has no idea what she is going to do when she has to start going to weddings for her kids. Imagine, having 17 children that will get married! Of those, Sirjana will most likely be the first, and in Nepal, that will probably happen by the time she is 20.

 Buddhi (13 years old)

Ever polite and kind to elders, Buddhi keeps to himself most of the time, and though he and Sima and Bisal get in raucous sessions of top-twirling (a new sport since I was there last, where they whip homemade tops around in duels) and wrestling, he usually sticks to doing his chores and watching TV. Like Sirjana, he also sometimes avoids chores by disappearing, but can usually be found on some friend’s bicycle trailing off down the dirt road. 

Unfortunately, Buddhi is and always has been treated as somewhat of a simpleton by all the kids at the orphan home. He is only in class 5 (6^th grade) and doesn’t really do well in school, so it usually takes him a couple of terms to pass to the next grade. However, I don’t believe it’s his performance in school that heralds the treatment, but instead his caste. If I’m not mistaken, he was born an untouchable, and though it is equality that Laxmi encourages at the orphan home, the social structure of caste is a hard change. Though of course he is treated just as well as all of the children, he will probably not be expected to go through high school, and will more likely be encouraged to pursue a manual labor trade. Other random cultural differences are only apparent if you are paying attention, like that he is always given the chicken head and feet to eat when we have meat, instead of the more tender portions.

Caste difference aside, Buddhi is perpetually smiling and laughing, and is usually the first person in the morning to greet me with, “Good morning Miss!” and the last person at night (when he comes in from TV watching) to wish me a good night. He respectfully asks if he “may” come in my room or use something of mine, and thanks me afterwards. I asked him to whittle me one of his fancy home-made tops before I leave, so that I can bring the art of top-twirling to the US, to which he was both astounded that I would ask such a thing, and so excited that he ran straight to the chopping log.

Sima Tamang (13 years old)

Sima is a goofball, a total tomboy, and often a firecracker. Always opting for the more physical play of the boys over the girly, sedate play of the girls at the orphan home, Sima is usually chasing someone, throwing something at someone, or tackling someone. She is tough; so tough that she didn’t even flinch when a 4” chunk of glass went through her sandal and into her foot. She wears men’s trouser pants that are 10 sizes too big for her (and a crotch that hangs down to her knees) held up by a tattered army belt and the same shirt she wore three years ago (now midriff-baring). To add to the ensemble, I gave her my fedora- and I couldn’t have chosen a more thrilled recipient. Though she is a girl, she generally doesn’t help with the cooking (as the other girls do) unless she is asked, and makes more of a mess than she cleans up. That being said, she thinks she is the expert at making roti (tortillas), and will always volunteer her services (I have to admit, she is excellent at not burning them).A far cry from the little Sima that I left three years ago, who was just learning to ride a bike despite lacking length in her legs, today’s Sima is a commander of the young ones. The screams at them to do things, and they do it. However, the children don’t follow Sima’s barking of orders because she is scary, they do it because she has created something of a sense of parental respect with the younger children. Her orders and the chores she commands are contrasted each day by serious playtime, in which she takes the little ones for rides on the back of the bicycle (her legs did get longer!), chases them around in hide and seek, and teaches them how to throw a top. 

The most striking aspect of Sima’s personality is her sense of humor. She is a hoot. Though lately she seems to be trying to sort out her teenage-ness (she didn’t want to go to the internet or Rhino Lake with everyone else), there is nothing that doesn’t make her laugh. And her smile is contagious. I found myself saying, “God, you are such a TEENAGER right now” to her more than once, to which she just cracked up and shrugged her shoulders. Whereas most actual teenagers would get angry at such a comment, Sima just finds humor.When trying to get a feel for grown-up Sima during the first couple of days I was at the orphan home, I realized that joking right back at her was the way to break the ice (Sima was the only one I felt like ice had to be broken with). It was my second or third day at Harka when Sima screamed at me to get her a glass of water. Taken aback by the brashness of her command, I told her that it wasn’t my job to get her water. She screamed again, and I started filling a glass, and took a couple of sips before handing her the cup. She looked at me dumbfounded. And then started laughing. It turns out she is a total germophobe, and would never drink out of a cup someone else had a drink from- but she thought it was hilarious nonetheless. She even told her friends about it on the way to school the next day. And so, Sima and I get along pretty well.

Soniya Shrestha- 12 years old

Soniya is a petite package of Nepali love. In 2008, I remember both Sima and Soniya often making fun of Rebecca and I in Nepali, and were both reserved in their affection towards us until the very end of our stay. I never felt like I got to know Soniya that well, as she seemed to have more of a wall around her emotions than some of the other children. By contrast, today’s Soniya couldn’t be more open with her feelings. She loves to cuddle (whether it be with me, her girl friends, or any of the other children) and is the nurturing aspect at the orphan home. Whenever anyone is crying or upset, she is there. She gets to the bottom of any dispute, and deals with it fairly and justly. If someone slams her finger in the door (yes, it happened) she is there instantly, sucking on the wound. And though she was always a caregiver to the younger ones, she has matured into a fantastic young lady, who will no doubt be an excellent mother someday.

For now though, she is just 12 years old, and in class 6 with Sirjana and Sima. She does her schoolwork, her English is good, she loves to dance, and she can cook a meal for 20 people on her own (though watch out, sometimes she overloads the salt!). She helps with the chores without being asked, and can usually be found cradling Tenzin or Tulie, or me! She’s girly, but not in the teenage-way that Sirjana is, and is also learning to use the sewing machine.

From the day I arrived, Soniya made me feel immediately at home, as though I were a family member returning after a long trip. She always makes sure I’m okay, and if the little kids are harassing me, she leads them somewhere else. She never ever asks for anything, and always gives before she takes. If I ever came home with biscuits or treats for the kids, I immediately gave them to Soniya to distribute fairly to the kids. I have also given her a load of school supplies, as I know that she will keep them locked up until someone needs something, and then will distribute accordingly.

If there was one child I wish I could take home this time around, it is Soniya. She is a ray of light in the insanity that sometimes behests the orphan home, and is thus a necessary element of that crazy family. Perhaps when she gets older, she can come visit.