satisfaction, a day in Sankhu, reflection, the white rabbit from alice and wonderland

Yestderday I returned from a weeklong stay in Sankhu, despite a valley-wide bus strike that made transportation a little complicated and heavily dependent on luck. My days in the village slipped seamlessly by, and I could not believe it was time to leave when my calender ruthlessly read "Friday". I find myself deeply content there, immersed in the routine, the wonderful interactions with the children and other volunteers, and the simple way of life which is deeply satisfying.
I wake up around 7 or 7:30, an hour or so after the children, and spend the two hours before breakfast helping the children with homework, writing letters and in my journal, reading, and doing some basic stretches and exercises (I've vowed to come out of Nepal more flexible in many different ways). There are currently four other volunteers out in Sankhu, and we all share a small room with a balcony. The room is ringed with lumpy luggage and has three beds, though three of us (including me) sleep on thin mats on the floor, as matresses are a mixed blessing of more padding and bedbugs.
After a big meal of dahl baht, prepared by the some of the girls and two staff members- i may be able to reproduce it after i leave, though hopefully not in such large quantities- I walk the older children to school in the village. The walk takes about 20 minutes each direction as the children's home is up on top of a hill, looking down on the far-away houses and out on the mountains. While down in the village I usually buy some crackers and cookies for the afternoon, as there is no real lunch, but instead a mid-day "tiffin" comprised of a small bowl of noodles or beaten rice (exactly what it sounds like, and about as flavorful). It's nice, though, to sneak into the room and munch on a couple of crackers, and there is tea maybe 3-5 times a day, which has become a volunteer favorite.
The volunteers teach in the school, though they don't usually need all of us at once, and we often double-up. A german volunteer, Toby, and I work particularly well together, picking up the slack when the other person feels themselves flagging or needs to sit down for a moment. Teaching is something i'm coming to appreciate greatly, and requires a lot of fast thinking, especially when faced by a very small room full of nursery and first graders who have very basic or non-existant english skills (this is class one, and it is a cut-throad, loud, and frustrating place). Nonetheless, as english teachers I feel we are making progress, and I love giving the older students creative writing, as so much of their curriculum is by rote, with no outlet for creativity. One of my favorite teaching moments was getting classes 3 and 4 to write stories about their favorite hero (superman, batman, wolverine, the hulk, power ranger SPD), or explaining the concept of "Rhyme" and how to write poems. Many first attempts went something like:
"I have one friend
you have two friend
she has three friend
you are best friend."
but they progressed a lot in that 45 minute period, i promise.
After school gets out, there is playtime, which became dominated by frisbee after I handed out the five frisbees I'd brought to the children and demonstrated some basic throws with toby. Some of the kids are absolutely amazing given their age, and there's one girl, Kamala, I want to bring to Bowdoin's frisbee team: she's downright scrappy, even wearing Nepali traditional dress. Unfortunately, I can't introduce Ultimate frisbee as every large flat space in the countryside, and many cultivated terraces, are all occupied by rice plants. Never before have I realized what a luxary a football field is: I haven't had a hundred yards to run around in since I got to Nepal. However, we make do with a small, triangular patch of tramped down mud/earth in which we play an abbreviated version of Ultimate that involves knocking down a plastic bottle of water. The kids love it, and try and get me to play whenever there is no homework and no class.
Many of them also play guitar, though the girls only want to learn how to play the notes to "Every night in my dreams" from the Titanic. I was very confused at first because they all kept saying "you teach me every night, okay?" and i wasn't sure how i would have time for all those lessons.
The children are amazing-my favorite part of Sankhu. They are like having an entire house full of sisters and brothers (around 55!) who want to learn from you, tease you, talk with you, and above all, welcome you to their home. I only hope that I am equally gracious, accomodating, disciplined and mature. I have often thought that America could use orphanages like this: a space where the students have support and stability, a true family. I don't know much about orphanages in the US, but after seeing Sankhu I have to wonder about the constructiveness of our fostercare system, and I also wonder who will take the steps to make such a space for American kids, who have just as much need of a true home. This is a thought I bear in mind for the future.
More than the people, Sankhu has also become a place where I can reflect on myself and my experiences, and I've learned a lot about myself since arriving five weeks ago. For the first time I begin to recognize and appreciate the amenities and opportunities I've had for so much of my life, and how much things are quite secondary to true happiness, which grows from our relationships. I am trying to be grateful for the people around me, even those who are very different from myself, which i suppose is what "namaste" is all about.
After my lovely stay in Sankhu, I feel a deep need to return and spend even more time there, so i plan to spend only five days in Kathmandu, and the majority of the rest of my stay (10-14 days) in Sankhu. I increasingly feel like the Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, running around with a big pocketwatch and sorrowful eyes (I have borrowed this book from a fellow volunteer), as I look at the measly three weeks I have left and wish that I had more time to spend with the children and more time to work with Menuka at Raksha. She is such a wonderful supportive big sister, and tells me she is grateful for any time I can give while I'm in Nepal, even if it is only five more days. What is truely important is the relationship that has been created, and the resource I can be in the United States, even if I am not in Nepal. I hope I can keep helping her with writing after I leave, and I am excited to air Raksha's documentary at Bowdoin in the Fall.
Needless to say, true to the Nepali way my plate is very full, and I will never finish all that I've served myself. However, this gives me the incentive I was hoping for to come back next Spring and continue my work in Nepal, with Sankhu and Raksha both, and to use these three weeks to make the necessary connections to create a photography program for the children at Sankhu and children in my own college community.

the Himalayas, bug bites on a whole new level, women's work, the weirdness of time

I returned several days ago from six days of trekking through the Himalayas after being persuaded to take the opportunity by two fellow volunteers, and unlikely sisters, from the states. Kelsey and Raina and I carried day packs with few changes of clothes, lots of granola bars and books, stopping each night at the numerous hostles that cluster in the villages along the trail. It was wonderful to hike for eight hours each day without carrying my entire house on my back, and then to pay less than a dollar for a bed at the end of the day. The food also proved to be amazing: Dahl Baht, Dahl Baht, and Dahl Baht, although the varieties of preparation were surprising, and i even managed to get my favorite snack, honey popcorn (which you should all try, it's exactly what it sounds like) one afternoon on a rest day at Poon Hill.
The trip had it's ups and downs (literally and emotionally), as it was monsoon season. The monsoon brings clouds and mist that obscure many of the picturesque views of snow capped mountains, as well as (unsurprising) abrupt downpours randomly throughout the day. Most horrific are the leeches, which are little bloodsuckers that come out during the rainy season to fall from trees or rise up from the trail, questing for your blood. They are attracted to heat and release a venom that is both an anesthetic and a blood thinner so there is no pain, only the horror of discovering one on you and being unable to stop the bleeding for several hours. Though they sound absolutely dreadful, and I met many along the way, i still managed to traverse the trails without incident, despite the fact that I wore Keens (which are like closed-toed sandles) without socks. My friend Raina got the worst of it, discovering one in her armpit when we got to our room the second night, prompting terror and the immidiate stripping off of all our sweaty clothes and full body searches. Poor Raina got another one on her heel the next day, though the effects were mostly disgust and a ruined sock. My horror came from a different source: at least a hundred (probably closer to two) bedbug bites in the last hotel, which over the first 24 hours swelled to twice the orignal size, reddened, and generally came quite unpleasant. Luckily they are finally beginning to fade off my arms, legs, feet neck and face...bleg.
I describe these things first because they in no way outweigh the wonder of the trip. The monsoons also made the trek much cooler than it would be during the summer months, and the trails were much less crowded with other hikers in off-season, which made the wilderness all the more beautiful. We stayed a day at the famous Poon Hill (almost 10,000 ft!) hoping to catch some clear weather as an hour climb from the town to the top yeilds a panoramic view of the Himalayas. The whole day was clouds and rain, though glorious relaxation, but we awoke to a misty, beautiful half-clear sunrise at 5:30, that slowly cleared off until we could see the mountains, like ice crystals, all around us. So amazing! The air, the small villages, the layers of peaks and mist against a blue sky... lovely, exhilerating and humbling.
After returning to Kathmandu I discovered that the issues with Sankhu resolved themselves while I was away, and I am now free to stay out at Sankhu for long periods. This is wonderful news, and I plan to head out on Saturday for a weeklong stay in the country, which I already miss. Another volunteer, Johanna, has planned day trip for the PA kids in Kathmandu out to the village home, and has arranged for a bus to take them there. I will therefore be part of the traveling circus (that so many kids on a bus represent), and i'm sure i will enjoy the fruit, cake and icecream that will be part of the festivities.
The only sad spot on this glowing horizon is that I am growing increasingly interested in the work of Raksha, and am discovering that a month is simultaneously very long and very short. If i plan on spending weeklong stretches out at Sankhu, there will be much less time available to work with Raksha. Menuka DiDi (DiDi means big sister) is a wonderful, vital woman doing amazing work that I'd like to be a part of. She continually offers her home as a place to stay and has let me copy a documentary they made last year to show when I return to Bowdoin. I do not want to dissapoint her, but worry about stretching myself too thin in the coming month. I will have to think hard about everything, and be sure that I communicate as clearly as possible what I am capable of giving to both organizations at this time. My desire to do too much at once has proven problematic in the past, and the last thing I'd want to do is create new complications for either organization.
In the meantime, I increasingly miss kitchens, peanut butter, vegetables, naked knees and shoulders, the novelty of drinking water from the tap, cold weather and, of course, Alaska. I also miss my family and friends, which is also nice in a way: a wonderful reminder to appreciate the people in my life.

Life in the village, new opportunities, getting lice, and working with women

I got back from Sankhu village yesterday afternoon, revitalized after several days in the fresh air outside of Kathmandu. The village is truely beautiful, and only about an hour away from the city, plus a ten minute walk through town and up a hill to PA-Nepal's Sankhu children's home. There is a greater percentage of older children in this home, which has been very nice, as many of them have better English, and more common interests. I have quickly discovered that Nepali people are very forward, not hesitating to point out that you are fat, beautiful, or strange. Both short hair and one earring have attracted general distaste, and my nick-name, Roz, is generally pronounced "Raj", which i am repeated told is a boy's name. Ah well, at least they like my dimple. It is also funny to be tall for the first time in my life. At 5'5'' I am taller than most girls, and about even with most boys. I finally can sympathize with my American friends who hate feeling "bigger" than everyone else.
The only problem with Sankhu, and with PA-Nepal in general, is that the Kathmandu part of the organization, and the woman in charge, Indira, can be difficult to communicate with. Furthermore, new government legislation passed in the last month has made it illegal for volunteers to stay in children's homes, probably given the lack of screening of volunteers and abusive incidents. This means I can only stay at Sankhu for 3-5 days at a time, and must "commute" between the village and the city, or nearby villages (there are some picturesque places that are very close). The only other problem has been getting lice, which is apparently pretty common so i'm not going to sweat it.
Initially I almost decided to just find a different organization, so i could be outside of Kathmandu all the time, but yesterday I met with Menuka, the head of another Omprakash partner called Raksha. Raksha is a women's organization that helps women who have been forced into sexual acts by their employers escape from these abusive jobs and rehabilitate through vocational training and counseling. They are doing wonderful work, Menuka is extremely friendly and enthusiastic, and has invited me to stay in her home or the office while I'm in Kathmandu so I can help with proposal and brochure writing in English, as well as teach some English to the women in the program. Though I'd like to be outside of Kathmandu, Raksha is doing wonderful work and I really want to help, so I think I will probably alternate between Raksha and PA-Nepal in Sankhu for the rest of my month and a half in Nepal, thereby maximizing the amount I do while I'm here.
It feels very good to have a plan for my stay after the amorphous miscommunication concerning PA-Nepal after I got here. One warning to other volunteers in Nepal: communication is very different here, and goes much more slowly. You have to be patient, direct, and work with the people in charge, which can get frustrating when there is a language barrier, a huge city with very few street names, and so many people involved. However, I'm already finding it very worthwhile, and am excited to get to work.
I am off to Sankhu again this weekend through the middle of next week to watch the girl's dance performance and spend more time with the kids. It is a wonderful place to recharge: we wake up, help the children with their homework, eat a large meal of dahl bat with tea, teach in the school part-time when teachers are not around, or request help, have a snacky sort of lunch, play/talk/help the kids, or do chores, and then eat a late dinner, after which there is homework, general exhaustion, and hanging out. We can really choose to do alternate things though, so if i wanted to go for a walk for two hours, or take a nap, or play guitar, i could do so. I'm bringing out all the frisbees I brought to Nepal this weekend, and hopefully will teach the game, though most of the flat areas are used for rice cultivation and aren't at all acceptable as frisbee fields. I will have to teach a smaller version of the game and the proper throws. Perhaps i can find a good field to take them to...