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.
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