I have been receiving complaints concerning the absence of updates on my blog lately… I am very sorry for the delay and I hope to make up for it with a long and newsy chapter! December is a busy month for everybody, right? Despite a quieter Christmas than usual, a lot has been happening here as well; we’ve survived four whole bus rides on the road out of Kathmandu, (if you’d seen the road you would be impressed – it meant countless 2-inch misses and passing several cliff/hillside wrecks) gone paragliding, and nearly been eaten by a crocodile (only slightly exaggerating).
- Christmas – a very different one this year, but nevertheless a very good one. Without the usual amount of homework and other annoying distractions, we became our mothers more than ever and took charge of the baking, cooking, decorating, knitting etc. We brought some of these sweets to work with us, but nothing was as entertaining as when the three of us performed our little St. Lucia parade and song, wearing white and covered in glitter. Although we failed to make a wreath of candles, the fat candle perched on Andrea’s head was a success, and the giggles lasted for days.
The Christmas season also gave us an opportunity to be with some very good friends. While Christmas Eve was celebrated at home in good old Scandinavian fashion, the days before and after contained cozy friends, Christmas movies and everything from Norwegian mutton and rice-pudding to stuffing, turkey, and pecan pie. In other words: for being so far away from home, my Christmas was quite complete.
- Christmas Show – this deserves a paragraph of its own, as it was the definite highlight of the year for the kids (and a lot of us!) at ABBS. The anticipation has been building steadily; the Christmas Show has been the number one topic of conversation for months. In fact, I’m not sure what we’ll have to talk about this spring.
All the families were invited to the “big center” (our kids got picked up in a special, decorated(!) bus and driven to headquarters) where the kids performed dances and songs (we’ve worked hard at these, watching them perform I felt all proud!). We eight volunteers contributed as well; this involved singing and dressing up as Santa, rats and a cat. The whiskers were very popular. The show was followed by lunch for everyone, and a present for each of the children. Having everyone dance to loud, thumping (I won’t say screeching) Hindi-music was of course inevitable at some point, as no gathering is quite complete without this. I’m sure we were quite a sight; those who could walk helping those who couldn’t, those who could see helping the blind, wheelchairs spinning and rattling, and an occasional volunteer with whiskers.
When it was all over and we watched the kids leave (grinning from ear to ear), it was surprisingly hard to say goodbye for two short weeks.
- Chitwan – not that I was left time to brood. The next morning we took off for a weekend in Chitwan National Park with the staff at ABBS. American volunteer Ben went along too, which added some English-speaking fun (not that we don’t love constantly conversing with Nepali ladies in our extremely fluent Nepali).
As mentioned above, this was a bit of an eventful weekend: elephant riding, rhino-spotting, boat ride on the river, elephant babies, and a crocodile. And in the evening after a stick-dance culture show, hours spent around the fire with a drum and Nepali ballads (with a little dancing) that lasted well into the night.
This all sounds idyllic enough, but remember, this is Nepal: nothing will go too smoothly. In this case it was our bus. It broke down regularly during the trip, giving us the chance to hang out and eat some more, go swimming in a river, snack some more, sing some more, and eat some more. I believe I ate about 7 oranges in the course of a few hours.
- I now come to the event which changed my outlook on life forever, and which caused me to discover the true purpose of my existence: PARAGLIDING! I have no words. Except that it was amazingly fun and exactly like flying, and that if you haven’t done it DON’T! Because you will become addicted and never do anything productive with your life again. I personally plan to spend all the rest of my time and money on training and traveling and very expensive paragliding-equipment.
I should mention that this revelation took place during our 5-day trip to Pokhara, a lovely town sandwiched between a big lake and the mountains. The rest of these days deserve a spot in this blog – quiet cafes on the lakeside with a beautiful view, hikes to hilltops with a spectacular view, golden-pink sunrises over the Himalayas… and of course, the good books to be enjoyed in the middle of all of this. The break from the polluted, dusty, loud and crowded streets of Kathmandu was quite appreciated.
There you have it! Now we are back at work and enjoying it more than ever (most of it at least... did they always used to pee this much?). For those of you who think our life here is all safaris, parties and quiet lakeside cafes, I can assure you that that is not the case. Power cuts have reached 12 hours a day, soon to become 14, 16 and maybe 18 (it has been said that by March they’ll have reached 24 hours and 15 minutes). Hot showers are a distant, hazy memory; especially morning showers are like vivid flashbacks to dips in icy Norwegian fjords. The cold tiles and brick walls inside don’t seem to ever warm up; the only way to get warm is to place yourself and all your layers in the sun. The kids are like ice every morning, and on their skin fresh blisters, cracks and sores from their two weeks at home.
What I wouldn’t give to plop some of them in a steaming hot bath, scrub them, wrap them up in a warm, dry towel, set them on the heated tile floor, cover them with lotion, blow-dry their hair, and let them toast their toes by the fire in my home in Norway!
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
The joys of language-learning (and angry crowds)
It’s not easy. Especially in a language with 4 different d’s AND 4 different t’s (I know!). Mistakes are to be expected, right? There really isn’t much to be done except embrace these wonderfully embarrassing moments as the gifts they really are: priceless entertainment.
Like the time Andrea, attempting to ask our tailor and a friend if they were family, politely asked ”are you animals?” Or a few weeks ago when I realized that instead of telling a girl at the center to be careful, I had several times told her to forget. (Forget! Forget! Forget!) No wonder she seemed confused.
My personal favorite was when Anna (from Sweden) somehow managed to convey that she had a boyfriend in Norway, and that, as calling is expensive, she writes a lot of e-mails. I’m still not quite sure how they established all this; I think it was the result of too much nodding in a bewildering conversation.
As I write this, I am sitting in a sort of tropical garden, complete with brightly colored flowers, tinkling fountain, lily pad-covered pond and palm trees swaying overhead. Surrounded by the perfectly lazy sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling, one would never suspect that there was something so disturbing as a big demonstration a few meters away, on the other side of the high, white, rose bedecked walls.
This morning we got up at 5 a.m. (my favorite time of day, really) to go downtown to the Indian embassy, as we are in the process of getting our tourist visas for our tip to India in January. The “system” at the embassy is as inefficient as things get and takes several days of countless hours in line (unless, of course, you are willing to pay a wee bit extra…). Determined not to contribute to the continued existence of this extremely annoying corruption, we have waited, and waited…and waited in line (prepared, as the good Scandinavians that we are, with wool sweaters and a thermos of coffee). Now we just have a few hours to kill before we finally can pick up our precious visas.
Which brings us back to the demonstration. On our way out of the embassy this afternoon we encountered deserted roads, a few burning holes in the road and scattered bricks. It didn’t take long to run into the angry-looking, stone-throwing crowd and the cluster of not-too-happy-looking, armed police. Sharp as we are, we decided to go in the opposite direction, but hadn’t taken more than a few steps before the angry crowd decided to run our way, apparently being chased by the angry, armed police. I must admit we were more than a little bit spooked, and without stopping for a powwow we took to running as well. Like a herd of cattle we were swept down a side street in the trampling, shoving, yelling chaos, without a clear idea of what exactly we were running from. As the threat of the (did I mention armed?)police behind us faded, the intense and courageous shouting gave way to whoops of laughter and delight at the three western girls (probably looking very confused) who had obviously been very much in the wrong place at the wrong time. We knew we could relax when they started shrieking and running around us just for the fun of watching us jump.
We have been given several jumbled-up and widely varying explanations of the day’s demonstrations by eager participants, but still haven’t been able to piece together a complete story. The exited boys running around the streets remind me a lot of kids at school smelling a fight and scampering off in a rush to join the action; I’m not sure how many of them really know the details of what it’s all about. But they sure care fiercely.
I guess we’ll have to wait to get the news until we get home. Our afternoon has mostly been spent avoiding these slightly unpleasant gatherings, till we found our hiding place in this most serene of all gardens. It’s the kind of place where dust and loud noises just don’t exist, and you wouldn’t be surprised to discover a magic carpet swooping down to offer you a ride.
Like the time Andrea, attempting to ask our tailor and a friend if they were family, politely asked ”are you animals?” Or a few weeks ago when I realized that instead of telling a girl at the center to be careful, I had several times told her to forget. (Forget! Forget! Forget!) No wonder she seemed confused.
My personal favorite was when Anna (from Sweden) somehow managed to convey that she had a boyfriend in Norway, and that, as calling is expensive, she writes a lot of e-mails. I’m still not quite sure how they established all this; I think it was the result of too much nodding in a bewildering conversation.
As I write this, I am sitting in a sort of tropical garden, complete with brightly colored flowers, tinkling fountain, lily pad-covered pond and palm trees swaying overhead. Surrounded by the perfectly lazy sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling, one would never suspect that there was something so disturbing as a big demonstration a few meters away, on the other side of the high, white, rose bedecked walls.
This morning we got up at 5 a.m. (my favorite time of day, really) to go downtown to the Indian embassy, as we are in the process of getting our tourist visas for our tip to India in January. The “system” at the embassy is as inefficient as things get and takes several days of countless hours in line (unless, of course, you are willing to pay a wee bit extra…). Determined not to contribute to the continued existence of this extremely annoying corruption, we have waited, and waited…and waited in line (prepared, as the good Scandinavians that we are, with wool sweaters and a thermos of coffee). Now we just have a few hours to kill before we finally can pick up our precious visas.
Which brings us back to the demonstration. On our way out of the embassy this afternoon we encountered deserted roads, a few burning holes in the road and scattered bricks. It didn’t take long to run into the angry-looking, stone-throwing crowd and the cluster of not-too-happy-looking, armed police. Sharp as we are, we decided to go in the opposite direction, but hadn’t taken more than a few steps before the angry crowd decided to run our way, apparently being chased by the angry, armed police. I must admit we were more than a little bit spooked, and without stopping for a powwow we took to running as well. Like a herd of cattle we were swept down a side street in the trampling, shoving, yelling chaos, without a clear idea of what exactly we were running from. As the threat of the (did I mention armed?)police behind us faded, the intense and courageous shouting gave way to whoops of laughter and delight at the three western girls (probably looking very confused) who had obviously been very much in the wrong place at the wrong time. We knew we could relax when they started shrieking and running around us just for the fun of watching us jump.
We have been given several jumbled-up and widely varying explanations of the day’s demonstrations by eager participants, but still haven’t been able to piece together a complete story. The exited boys running around the streets remind me a lot of kids at school smelling a fight and scampering off in a rush to join the action; I’m not sure how many of them really know the details of what it’s all about. But they sure care fiercely.
I guess we’ll have to wait to get the news until we get home. Our afternoon has mostly been spent avoiding these slightly unpleasant gatherings, till we found our hiding place in this most serene of all gardens. It’s the kind of place where dust and loud noises just don’t exist, and you wouldn’t be surprised to discover a magic carpet swooping down to offer you a ride.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Pictures
I thought I'd try to show you some pictures.. but I only managed to upload a couple (the internet is not cooperating today).
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The Stupa by night.
Voilà the table where we pretty much live (read, eat, sit, write, sit, drink tea, visit, sit..)
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Work
Time for an update! We have now been at work for almost a week, and have nearly gotten used to being covered in considerable amounts of spit, pee and the occasional dose of throw-up at the end of every day. As you can see, our daily routine has changed a bit since I last wrote, we are done with Nepali lessons in Jawalakhel and have started work in Jorpati.
As lovely as our job sounds, it’s a little exhausting. Six to eight physically and mentally disabled children are kept in one room all day, with, until now, one teacher and one didi (responsible for washing and cooking). Several of the children almost require one adult to watch them 100 % of the time; I have no idea how Mana, the teacher, managed by herself... I guess most of the children entertained themselves a lot of the time. One of our main goals for this year is to teach a couple of them to read – they have been capable of learning, but there has been noone with the time to teach them. Mana is excited about this, I can only imagine how frustrating it must be to work full-time with these children, seeing the potential and knowing she just can’t possibly meet all their needs; the widely varying diagnoses make it even more difficult to give each of them ideal treatment. For some of them, learning how to read and write will be absolutely crucial, possibly giving them a shot at a normal life.
Most of the others are less fortunate. According to Mana, many of them have improved their communication and cognitive skills a lot since they came to ABBS, but some still seem to be completely oblivious to the world. Sometimes I catch myself wondering what they might have been like, had they not been neglected and isolated for many years.. But this only makes me want to kick things, so I try to stay focused on the job we actually can do to help them now that they’re here. The sad truth is that there are still a lot of disabled children out there, with parents either not able or not willing to make the effort of bringing them to a center like ABBS. At the end of the day when the parents show up, we may cringe at how a father slings his blind daughter over his back like a sack of potatoes, and wonder what these kids really go home to. But the fact remains that this little group is priviledged.
On the not-so-depressing side, the tired feeling at the end of every day is a good, very satisfied tired. The kids are so happy to have us there, and those who don’t need constant attention (those able to feed themselves, walk and talk without danger of falling over) still very much want it. Playing games, reading (well, sort of) and running around in the sun is always popular, as well as turning the Hindi-music up till the walls shake and dancing (again.. sort of). :)
We are making good use of our limited Nepali at the center. Or should I say, parts of it. For instance, we are getting very good at phrases like, ”have you peed yet?”, "what color is your hair, do you remember?" not to mention ”be careful!”
Well, I must be getting back to the world (sigh). Right now I am floating in a sea of prayer flags on a rooftop, with the sun almost setting behind the stupa, and the distant sounds of talking, chanting, barking and hammering. Soon half the horizon will be taken up by the Himalayas... After a blog post, a bowl of soup and about 4 cups of tea here at Saturday cafe i can escape from the world no longer, and must go home to make dinner. :)
Sentence of the day:
”timilaai dukhkha laagyo?? (with emotion) ke bhayoooo??”
(Are you sad? What happened??)
As lovely as our job sounds, it’s a little exhausting. Six to eight physically and mentally disabled children are kept in one room all day, with, until now, one teacher and one didi (responsible for washing and cooking). Several of the children almost require one adult to watch them 100 % of the time; I have no idea how Mana, the teacher, managed by herself... I guess most of the children entertained themselves a lot of the time. One of our main goals for this year is to teach a couple of them to read – they have been capable of learning, but there has been noone with the time to teach them. Mana is excited about this, I can only imagine how frustrating it must be to work full-time with these children, seeing the potential and knowing she just can’t possibly meet all their needs; the widely varying diagnoses make it even more difficult to give each of them ideal treatment. For some of them, learning how to read and write will be absolutely crucial, possibly giving them a shot at a normal life.
Most of the others are less fortunate. According to Mana, many of them have improved their communication and cognitive skills a lot since they came to ABBS, but some still seem to be completely oblivious to the world. Sometimes I catch myself wondering what they might have been like, had they not been neglected and isolated for many years.. But this only makes me want to kick things, so I try to stay focused on the job we actually can do to help them now that they’re here. The sad truth is that there are still a lot of disabled children out there, with parents either not able or not willing to make the effort of bringing them to a center like ABBS. At the end of the day when the parents show up, we may cringe at how a father slings his blind daughter over his back like a sack of potatoes, and wonder what these kids really go home to. But the fact remains that this little group is priviledged.
On the not-so-depressing side, the tired feeling at the end of every day is a good, very satisfied tired. The kids are so happy to have us there, and those who don’t need constant attention (those able to feed themselves, walk and talk without danger of falling over) still very much want it. Playing games, reading (well, sort of) and running around in the sun is always popular, as well as turning the Hindi-music up till the walls shake and dancing (again.. sort of). :)
We are making good use of our limited Nepali at the center. Or should I say, parts of it. For instance, we are getting very good at phrases like, ”have you peed yet?”, "what color is your hair, do you remember?" not to mention ”be careful!”
Well, I must be getting back to the world (sigh). Right now I am floating in a sea of prayer flags on a rooftop, with the sun almost setting behind the stupa, and the distant sounds of talking, chanting, barking and hammering. Soon half the horizon will be taken up by the Himalayas... After a blog post, a bowl of soup and about 4 cups of tea here at Saturday cafe i can escape from the world no longer, and must go home to make dinner. :)
Sentence of the day:
”timilaai dukhkha laagyo?? (with emotion) ke bhayoooo??”
(Are you sad? What happened??)
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Everyday life
Today I thought I’d give you an idea of what our daily routine has become over the the past week or so. After the festival of Dashain (in a couple of weeks), we will start work, but until then our daily life will continue to go something like this.
The day begins, slowly but surely, at around 6 a.m, to the sounds of Kathmandu waking up. Some of these sounds are almost pleasant, laughing, talking, barking and bicycle bells. Others are less pleasant; the tearing down of our neighbor house comes to mind, as well as the incredible throat-clearing, slime-pulling, cough-spitting concerts. I believe it is the goal of certain neighbors to empty out the contents of their entire upper body through their mouth. This does not happen quietly.
Andrea gets up first at around 8, usually followed by Anna half an hour or so later. I bravely attempt to ignore the lively sounds right outside the window and have been known to doze as late as 9 a.m. A sleepy breakfast is then followed by a quiet morning of waking up, doing some laundry, cleaning, or reading on the roof. At about 11 it’s time to lock our two doors and one gate (security is good) and set out to attack the day’s busride (this is a separate chapter, more stories will follow in future episodes..).
Our Nepali lessons with Samjhana take place at the Norwegian House. This is a guest house not far from the old Norwegian School, and here they have saved quite a bit of the old furniture, books, and other equipment from destruction along with the school. :( Samjhana (an old Norwegian School staffer too) meets us at around 1-2 (you may have noticed that we don’t do exact time; Nepali time and Nepali traffic make this rather difficult), and for two enjoyable hours we sit and drink tea or ice water and talk Nepali culture and language.
Getting home in afternoon traffic doesn’t leave much time for post-Nepali lesson activities. Depending on what needs to be done, we go for a walk, get a snack, and do some errands on our way home. It gets dark quite suddenly between 6 and 6:30, and it’s usually very dark by the time we get home. If it’s one of our electricity-free evenings we spend a few stressful minutes knocking things over and stepping on eachother, trying to find the matchbox or a flashlight (as we rarely remember to leave them in their designated spots). Dinner, Nepalipractice, and tea make up our plan for most evenings. We always manage to fill the hours at home, and always seem to have things to do: writing the occasional letter, reading, visiting with our neighbor, watching a movie, taking in the laundry from the roof.. Somehow even sitting around doing nothing, talking about nothing in particular, and listening to music takes up a lot of time.
On Saturdays Sushma-didi comes, and we make yummi Nepali food with her. That is, she does most of it and makes it look very easy; she can make 3 different dishes in less time and making less of a mess than if I were to fry an egg. We ”help”, watch and entertain her by our less-than-perfect skills in the kitchen (and in Nepali), and then we all sit down for a fantastic lunch. Most of Sunday is spent attempting to copy Sushma’s performance of Saturday, with varying results. We have a bit of practice to do before we can reach her level of ease, not to mention her perpetual good mood while cooking...
Last Monday we spent the morning at one of the ABBS centers, to get an idea of what we will be doing. At this center there are around 30 children with 6 staff members, and one volunteer. For those of you who don’t know what this is: ABBS is short for ”Asha Bal Bikash Sewa”, which means ”Hope Children Development Service”. ABBS offers a rehabilitation program for children with disabilities and their families, and there are now three, soon to be four, centers in Nepal. Two of them are in Kathmandu: one in Jorpati (the smaller one, where we will be) and another in Lalitpur (where we visited). ABBS is run by HDCS (Human Development Community Service), a Christian Nepali NGO involved in health care, education, and community development.
Our first impression was that the staff at ABBS is nothing short of amazing; with limited resources, equipment and space they do a wonderful job with the children. It’s draining work, children officially up to age 16 (really up to 21) and challenged in many different ways are divided into groups of about 6, with one adult per group. It is apparent how devoted those who work there are to the children. And ABBS is an amazing offer when you consider the fact that a few years ago, children like these in Nepal were shut up and hidden away; seen as a disgrace to their family.
Well, I'd better stop this novel before it looks too long to be interesting!
If you want to read more about HDCS and ABBS: http://www.hdcsnepal.org/
Sentence of the day: "Aaja bihaan, maile chhaanamaa kitaab paDhe."
(This morning I read a book on the roof.)
The day begins, slowly but surely, at around 6 a.m, to the sounds of Kathmandu waking up. Some of these sounds are almost pleasant, laughing, talking, barking and bicycle bells. Others are less pleasant; the tearing down of our neighbor house comes to mind, as well as the incredible throat-clearing, slime-pulling, cough-spitting concerts. I believe it is the goal of certain neighbors to empty out the contents of their entire upper body through their mouth. This does not happen quietly.
Andrea gets up first at around 8, usually followed by Anna half an hour or so later. I bravely attempt to ignore the lively sounds right outside the window and have been known to doze as late as 9 a.m. A sleepy breakfast is then followed by a quiet morning of waking up, doing some laundry, cleaning, or reading on the roof. At about 11 it’s time to lock our two doors and one gate (security is good) and set out to attack the day’s busride (this is a separate chapter, more stories will follow in future episodes..).
Our Nepali lessons with Samjhana take place at the Norwegian House. This is a guest house not far from the old Norwegian School, and here they have saved quite a bit of the old furniture, books, and other equipment from destruction along with the school. :( Samjhana (an old Norwegian School staffer too) meets us at around 1-2 (you may have noticed that we don’t do exact time; Nepali time and Nepali traffic make this rather difficult), and for two enjoyable hours we sit and drink tea or ice water and talk Nepali culture and language.
Getting home in afternoon traffic doesn’t leave much time for post-Nepali lesson activities. Depending on what needs to be done, we go for a walk, get a snack, and do some errands on our way home. It gets dark quite suddenly between 6 and 6:30, and it’s usually very dark by the time we get home. If it’s one of our electricity-free evenings we spend a few stressful minutes knocking things over and stepping on eachother, trying to find the matchbox or a flashlight (as we rarely remember to leave them in their designated spots). Dinner, Nepalipractice, and tea make up our plan for most evenings. We always manage to fill the hours at home, and always seem to have things to do: writing the occasional letter, reading, visiting with our neighbor, watching a movie, taking in the laundry from the roof.. Somehow even sitting around doing nothing, talking about nothing in particular, and listening to music takes up a lot of time.
On Saturdays Sushma-didi comes, and we make yummi Nepali food with her. That is, she does most of it and makes it look very easy; she can make 3 different dishes in less time and making less of a mess than if I were to fry an egg. We ”help”, watch and entertain her by our less-than-perfect skills in the kitchen (and in Nepali), and then we all sit down for a fantastic lunch. Most of Sunday is spent attempting to copy Sushma’s performance of Saturday, with varying results. We have a bit of practice to do before we can reach her level of ease, not to mention her perpetual good mood while cooking...
Last Monday we spent the morning at one of the ABBS centers, to get an idea of what we will be doing. At this center there are around 30 children with 6 staff members, and one volunteer. For those of you who don’t know what this is: ABBS is short for ”Asha Bal Bikash Sewa”, which means ”Hope Children Development Service”. ABBS offers a rehabilitation program for children with disabilities and their families, and there are now three, soon to be four, centers in Nepal. Two of them are in Kathmandu: one in Jorpati (the smaller one, where we will be) and another in Lalitpur (where we visited). ABBS is run by HDCS (Human Development Community Service), a Christian Nepali NGO involved in health care, education, and community development.
Our first impression was that the staff at ABBS is nothing short of amazing; with limited resources, equipment and space they do a wonderful job with the children. It’s draining work, children officially up to age 16 (really up to 21) and challenged in many different ways are divided into groups of about 6, with one adult per group. It is apparent how devoted those who work there are to the children. And ABBS is an amazing offer when you consider the fact that a few years ago, children like these in Nepal were shut up and hidden away; seen as a disgrace to their family.
Well, I'd better stop this novel before it looks too long to be interesting!
If you want to read more about HDCS and ABBS: http://www.hdcsnepal.org/
Sentence of the day: "Aaja bihaan, maile chhaanamaa kitaab paDhe."
(This morning I read a book on the roof.)
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