I had a date yesterday to meet with the kids who have completed class 10 and are carrying on with their education. Here it’s called plus-2, and is equivalent to grades 11 and 12 in North America. As someone said yesterday, a few years ago it was an achievement to complete class 10, and you could get a job; now you need plus-2. (It’s still an admirable achievement to complete class 10: over half of students in Nepal who make it to class 10 fail the final School Leaving Certificate exam. We’re very proud that ALL 12 of the Glasswaters supported students have passed!)
I got in a taxi to travel the wrecked and sometimes rebuilt roads of Kathmandu to our meeting place in Laghankhel. The incense smoke rising from the front passenger seat was so thick, I might have thought the engine was on fire. The prayer wheel on the dashboard turned, smoke curled – we were in our own little traveling temple… This is the first time that I’ve rolled down the window to get some fresh air in Kathmandu!
Once in Laghankhel, we used our phones (it is 2015) to come together. We walked up and down the streets, trying to find a tea shop where twelve of us could squeeze together and talk. Finally we found one where we could join three little tables – with the promise that we would put them back when finished. Sweet milky tea was passed around, and cookies that somehow resembled a hard baklava log. Delicious!
These guys looked great: Kalasha, Mina, Rabina, Madhu, Sajuan, Sobit, Sunil, Binayak, Prakash, and Dev Raj. Four girls and six boys. Two girls and two boys studying sciences, the others studying management. They all say they’re enjoying it, and that they’re doing well. (We’ll see some exam results soon.)
It’s been a tough year. The earthquakes in April and May closed schools for a month. The current political crisis that has basically closed the border with India has meant very little legal fuel available for the last two months. This has resulted in more school closures this fall. Schools opened again last week, but I’ve read that if the border isn’t opened by next week, schools will have to close again.
They talked about their favorite subjects in school and what they might do after plus-2. Kalasha likes the practical work of dissecting frogs and rats, and is hoping to go into nursing. Sajuan likes studies of light in physics and intends to become an engineer. Madhu and Rabina hope to go into banking. Sunil will study goldsmithing with his family in Pokhara after class 12. Mina wants to work in agriculture. Binayak hopes to study civil engineering. They are all developing clearer ideas of how they would like to make a living and what might get them where they want to go. This is the hard part. It’s difficult in Canada and the States; it seems more difficult here in Nepal.
Let’s hope Nepal and India sort out their differences and these kids can continue their education unimpeded! They are certainly keen to do so.
In the center of this picture is Moni (with the yellow scarf). She watches over them, organizing their education and hostels. Moni has a great rapport with them all.
From Laghankhel we went to visit the children in SBCH. This was a Saturday, and most had finished their laundry, their bathing and whatever else needed to be done on their one day off. Amrit, Bikram and Arjun, (the big boys) were still off at the village well washing. Samjhana, Benita, Bina, Ujjwal, and Rina were in the shade making key chains. Akschaa, Krishna, Mahesh, Rajesh and a few others were in the downstairs boys’ room playing caram board. Their skill is impressive – when I tried, my flicked discs were far from the mark, much to their delight. Saag dried on a tarp on the ground. Already dried saag fermented in jars on the table alongside drying garlic, sliced and drying radish and lapsi (a very sour tiny fruit). Suman, as usual, was hanging around the food, sneaking a radish slice here, a lapsi there, offering me some of the bounty. Kasak and Sudina were counting beyond 100 as they skipped rope without missing. Astha was in the garden picking more saag. Kamal offered me tea, but I didn’t want the limited firewood consumed for me. (I think an entire anthropological study could be done on why they are so reluctant to use their solar cooker.)
Kamal continued to cook lunch on the wood fire. The bell rang, and everyone came running to fill their plates with garbanzo beans, rice, saag and hard boiled egg. Delicious. Not an easy feat to cook for 40 with wood.
After lunch we had a ‘candle’ meeting. You might remember that we sit quietly in a circle, light a candle, and one person speaks at a time while holding a heart made three years ago by my friend Heather Ferris. Amazing that they still have it! It started as usual, with, “Namaste, My name is __________, I study in class ________. Thank you.” That round finished, we got into statements of why they are there (and not at home in the village) and what they liked about being at SBCH. Nobody is required to speak, but those who did, spoke from the heart. “My father has two wives – they don’t want so many children; my family is too big, they can’t feed us all; Kamal sir brought me from the village because my parents couldn’t take care of me.”
I asked where everyone was for the earthquake, what they felt. Scared!!!! I asked if anybody still felt scared. About half wobbled their heads “yes.” I talked about that kind of fear getting stuck in the body so that whenever they heard a door slam or the roar of an airplane they jumped, ready for another earthquake. I asked if they would follow me in some simple, maybe silly, exercises that might help. We did what’s known as the Trauma Tapping Technique – a way of releasing trauma without words or rationale. I led them through the breathing, the imagining, the tapping – and I was quite touched by how solemnly they followed the instructions. Afterward, some said that they felt differently. We did it again. More felt a shift. Maybe they will do it more. Maybe it will help. Those two earthquakes were quite a shock, and the 5.3 quake a few days ago was a reminder that it is still very fresh for everyone.
I asked if anyone had a song or a joke. Akschaa and Krishna told Nepali jokes, which everyone else found quite funny. Rina broke out into a big smile and began singing a trekking song. Every Nepali kid knows this song and sings it with gusto! And then Astha began singing “One two three four five six seven eight, I believe it’s not to late; together we can change the world….” Everyone joined in.
I asked them to come downstairs where we could form a standing circle and practice the yoga tree. We jostled into a circle, and everyone tried to balance, one foot lifted to thigh or calf, arms held high, palms together. We balanced and wobbled until we joined hands into a forest, supporting each other. Once again, evidence that together we are stronger. “Together we can change the world….”
The kids and Samjhana broke into a raucous game of “Fire on the Mountain,” and it was time for us to go – it’s very difficult to find transport in Kathmandu after dark. Kamal decided to take Moni and me to Satobato where we could find a taxi. Three on a scooter, safe and snug.
I will ask you this: What do you make of a country that requires the driver of a motorcycle to wear a helmet, but not the passengers? Why am I surprised by the myriad of difficulties caused here by people in power?