i am because you are

2009-03-06T03:11:00.003-05:00

These are my last days with my homeroom class, 4B. Today was actually supposed to be the last day of school, but, how fitting, there was a private school teacher's strike. So Saturday will be the last day of school. I'm in the process of making cards for each one of them with their names on the front. Each card matches the personality of the student. (Shot out to Pat for letting me use his 50 crayola markers that were forgotten on a shelf in his room. Ten of them are smelly markers. Great idea crayola, get kids hooked on sniffing markers. That's marketing hard at work.) I will probably be up late into the night putting the finishing touches on them. This photo will be stuffed in each. What a crew. At lunch tomorrow we will have a small picnic, that no doubt, the boys will try to crash because the girls will bring everything. Last time the planned everything out down to the knife to cut the fruits. I didn't get to all of their houses this year, but am still trying to make my way around before I leave. These last couple of days, while being EXTREMELY long because of the brilliantly planned day-long exams, have been pretty surreal. I know in the future I'll be looking back thinking, I should have done this or that. Some things are just to huge for us to wrap our little heads around. I have loved doing some of these "outgoing" reflections with my kids in the mornings. The think its very vital for me to, upon arrival home, teach my mom and dad the Nepali alphabet, then my sister and friends. Some even went as far as suggesting it become a movement so that everyone in the US speaks Nepali. I told them that while I'll try, I will probably meet a lot of resistance. When I told the kids my flight route to the States, I said "and then San Diego." One of the girls shouted out, "Satdobaato?!" (a town we pass on the way to Kathmandu). I wish Melina.

The girls' football team is planning to have one more match tomorrow after-school. Sarah put together an awesome DVD of the ANFA tournament that took place back in the fall (one of the happiest times here in Nepal). I can't wait to show them, they are going to be so excited.

We will finish up exam corrections this week, while stowing away in Lamatar for a few days. Report card distribution is the 14th, then the staff party on the 15th and then I'm off to Dumre to trek the Annapurna Circuit. When I get back three of us are joining Fr. Bill (who took us on a trek last fall along the eastern border of Nepal) to trek through the Arun Valley. I am really looking forward to that one as it will be more remote. After that I'm back in Godavari to say some final goodbyes and then off to a retreat at Kopan Monastery. When I get back from the retreat it's one more night listening to some good tunes, while cooking up some delicious grub in the kitchen of Keshar Mahal, home. The next day I'm home-bound making some stops in San Diego and Columbus to visit Katie and Sar. Then Papa Casey is meeting me at BWI on May 6th and another adventure begins....

2009-01-18T00:35:00.002-05:00

Christmas in Godavari

(those Christmas lights died the following morning, but what a night it was)

2009-01-13T06:36:00.002-05:00

We now have 16 hours a day of loadshedding (power outages). Walking home from language class in Patan the lights are on. The lights are usually on for at least two or four hours during the working day (and then of course very odd hours in the middle of the night). You can tell in people's demeanors that there is electricity now. How funny, but I feel it to. That doesn't at all mean that for the rest of the time, when there is no electricity, we are hanging our heads down. It just means, "hey, we have electricity! That's great!" Following this blog, I will pick up vegetables and get started on dinner while we still have light. The increased power outages are a result of generators that were knocked out in the Southern part of the country due to floods during the monsoon. The question on all of our minds is, 'why not just turn it off?' Because candles can be expensive, everyone got a kerosene lamp for Christmas. So we are loaded up on kerosene and have to follow the loadshedding schedule days in advance to plan ironing, showering, etc. Forget writing emails at home. Although, let's be honest, I wasn't even that great at it when we had electricity regularly.

We have been on winter break for the last couple of weeks and I'm getting the itch. We have about five weeks left of school and so much in between. Once school starts my time in Nepal will start moving moving. My return date is looking like it will be the first of may or so. Still figuring all of that out as it comes. Looking forward to the return, but in the meantime I'm here. love, denise

2008-10-18T07:13:00.009-05:00

Mmmm. dried goat.
receiving tika and blessings from auntie

a mother with her daughters

bua with Sushma and Suraj

Sushma. tika. blessings.

best part of dashain, receiving tika and blessings from mummy.

pat and drying meat.

2008-10-18T06:39:00.009-05:00

Those lovely sunglasses were purchased at a very special price because Pat happened to notice they were broken and we were also broke. A steal!

Mt. Annapurna in a lake

porters fording the river

say cheese.

Annapurna base camp after the clouds came in.

Maya

She fed us when we were hungry. Her name means love in Nepali and she is so filled with it! She kept saying over and over, "mero man saphaa bhayo"...my heart is clean. She was such a light on our trip and i can't wait to go back and visit her before I leave.

The Annapurna Sanctuary

Last but not least...

Pat bouldering at Annapurna Base Camp
yes, patagonia is being contacted...stay tuned

2008-09-10T02:41:00.001-05:00

It’s Tuesday morning and as I write this sparks are coming from the electrical box our water heater is plugged into. (Later in this morning, after smells of burning plastic we realized that the box was in fact melting away. Ha.) I’m not too worried; all it takes is a little jiggling and smooth talking. Most appliances in our house are that way, except for the pressure cooker that exploded on Sarah the other night after she had spent the whole morning cleaning. She later used it in class as an example of irony, not completely a bust. The monsoon is coming to an end at just the right time. There are horrible floods in the south on the Nepali/Indian border. We had a clothes drive and money collection at school that brought in a lot of goods.

Last week, was my homeroom class assembly. What had a ball! We made these crazy elephant masks, zebra masks and lion masks for our skit about a purple elephant. Than they sang a Phil Colin’s song, which I had never heard of before Sean introduced it to me, called Dance Into the Light. We practiced morning after morning for about two weeks. They practically put together all of the choreography for the music. It was in the middle of these practices and after-school tutoring with some of the same kids that I thought, I’m really in deep. Let me tell you about a few of them…

Samir has lately started writing me letters before any major festival or holiday to explain to me all about the holiday and how they celebrate it. Recently he gave me an assignment to research Aushi Pushi (Father’s Day) and report back to the class on Monday. He is insistent that I don’t steal the words he wrote in his last letter, something I overstress in book reports.

There are a cluster of the local boys I tutor after-school who regularly call me over to play TT (table tennis) at lunch break. I’m pretty even with their best player; his serve is much better than mine. Although, as a community we have also decided that TT is going to be our next phase, right after killing brown recluse spiders and hunting down swarms (I really mean swarms) of ants in the attic, but back to the kids!

Nikesh and Swarup are the big artists of the class. They are always drawing pictures of characters from Dragon Ball Z to hang in the classroom. I’m trying to get them to do a drawing of me as a Dragon Ball Z character, but nothing yet.

Pramod is the class captain. He lives up the road at the marble quarry and is quite a kid. He is the top student in the class and self-taught. By that I mean neither of his parent’s speak English or are educated, so he makes his own homework and reading schedule for after-school and sticks to it. He was the purple elephant in the play.

Sanjay, oh Sanjay! Sanjay is also a local kid and he far exceeds the expectations of his family and teachers. One teacher in particular rides Sanjay pretty hard and tells him point blank that he’s good for nothing and he’ll end up failing out and going to the government school just like the rest of his family. (This is what I am working to counteract in the classrooms.) He’s a tough kid, but shouldn't’t need to be. One day during first term exams, I came in the classroom and he was hysterically crying, something I had never seen. One of the younger boys from class three told this Sir that Sanjay and another one of my students were throwing a ball up against the wall, dirtying the wall. They weren’t. (Sidenote: the administration has somewhat turned the little one’s into the Gestapo as they are rewarded for ratting out their friends for speaking Nepali during school hours and this as snowballed into something much bigger. That’s a whole other blog.) So this Sir signed their diaries, which they then have to get signed by their parents. Sanjay wasn’t crying because of the punishment given, but the one that was yet to come when he got home. This Sir brought back Sanjay’s diary in the middle of the exam, walked right up to his desk and dropped the diary on the floor right in front of him! My stomach dropped. The next couple of days Sanjay “forgot” his diary. We are supposed to check their diaries everyday to make sure a family member signs their homework assignments section. And I do check Sanjay’s diary everyday, but I never checked that part of the diary. The next day Sanjay had a small circular badge on his desk the size of a ball that said, “I am Special.” He immediately put it on the cover of his notebook and we never talked about the ball incident again. I don’t play favorites, but he’s pretty darn special.

Ankit is a little chubby kid who sat right in front of my desk for first term. He does everything very slow. He comes to class slow, he takes out his notebook slow, he writes slow and he walks slow. His parents told me at Report Card distribution day that all of his teachers since class one have told them the same thing over and over again “he’s lazy.” He’s not lazy. When I start one of my crazy jumping around the classroom classes, his hand is the first to fly up. He always does his homework well and his diary is always signed. During breaks I catch him and the other boys playing Dragon Ball Z, so one day I jumped in and through some lasers from my umbrella between my legs. He just lost it, thought it was the funniest thing. Ankit is also my library partner. During library period, I read Nepali books, while most of the kids read English books. I ask Ankit to help me with words I don’t know and he asks me words and sentences that he doesn’t know. It’s a beautiful exchange. Ankit will also be playing the role of old man time in the upcoming Class 3 and 4 Parent’s Day skit, The Giving Tree. So is Ankit moving slow or are we moving too fast, old man time will tell…

Aakriti. Aakriti is a bit of an over-achiever and after meeting her father at Report Card Distribution day I can see where it comes from. He asked who was the first student in the class and what can Aakriti to do to be first, blah blah blah. During the first term, she never raised her hand, calling out and was always at my desk. But I have learned a lot more about Aakriti lately and thus; our relationship has changed for the better. Aakriti led our morning prayer at the class assembly in front of the whole school. But the prayer is a little different than other’s because before the prayer the whole class takes a biiiig breath from the earth and then a big breath from the sky, reaching from the Earth and the sky. I watched her lead the prayer off stage and I just filled up with tears. Afterwards she told me that when she started the prayer she was so nervous, but it felt like inside she was laughing. Sometimes I wonder whose teaching whom.

Binita was my little zebra for the skit. She’s small and loves writing me notes. It’s great because she asks for the spelling of very long words before she writes them and sure enough the note is spelled correctly when it is placed on my desk in the morning. Binita has already started asking why I have to go back to the U.S….I am yet another impermanent fixture in their very complex and ever-changing lives.

Melina is the vice-captain. She is going to be a quite a woman when she grows up. I made her vice-captain because I’ve witnessed her strength, sense of justice and discipline in the classroom. I know what your thinking, these are fourth graders, but they also have responsibilities at home that many college students couldn’t handle in the US. She didn’t want the responsibility at first because a few of the kids in class were giving her a hard time, but I explained to her that being a leader isn’t always easy. I cut a deal with her and said “if in a week you still don’t want to be captain, we’ll make new arrangements.” She’s still captain.

Rajat has lately become a key player in the classroom, especially after the Friday morning rat fiasco. Friday morning I’m hustling around the school grabbing a globe, picking up a needed book from the library and getting ready for homeroom to start when Binita and Melina came running up to me and said, “Miss! There are rats in our class. Rajat is killing them and there is blood on the floor.” Oh super. Sure enough, I walk in and there is a dead rat under the chalkboard and one barely moving in the trashcan. Rajat killed them with his foot! Then Sanjay picked one up by the tail and went running out of the class. Samip was the real hero for cleaning up the dead rat and disposing it in the woods behind the classes. Ten-fifteen minutes later we found another in Pramod’s desk. It was an eventful morning, but served as an excellent journal topic during homeroom. So the kids are super.

Two weeks ago Pat and I started coaching the girl’s football team in preparation for a big national tournament on September 10th. I think this is the biggest girl’s football tournament in Nepal thus far; 20 schools are participating, some even from outside the Valley. We have been practicing everyday. Making cuts was pretty difficult, especially because we had to cut some girls that we have become pretty good friends with. As an eighth grader, you know of no other way to take that, but personally. It can be really challenging at times because the girls in grades 8, 9 and 10 are just now being exposed to athletics. We got them playing bump tag in the mud one day after practice and then army crawled in for a cheer. Slowly slowly. I’m really proud of how hard they are working though and how eager they are to learn.

Dashain break is coming up and we’re heading out to the Himals! The monsoon can be pretty monotonous and mundane after the first five weeks of constant rain. I think it is finally coming to an end and blue skies are just around the corner. This is one of my favorite times of year in Nepal. It’s amazing how much the weather can affect your mood, but being able to go for runs or walks without rain or leeches is such a pick-me up.

Saying goodbye to the volunteers in Jawalakhel was another reminder of our impermanence here. With 8 months left, I’m still very focused on the present: my students, the weather, our neighbors, community, runs in the woods and of course…tea. It’s impossible to try to live in order to prevent regrets in the future, but we can do our best by being intentional with our time and our words. I hope you are all well and I’m keeping you in my thoughts and prayers. Love and peace, denise

ps. Currently reading Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan and I would highly recommend it!

2008-06-25T02:15:00.004-05:00

Bundh. The literal meaning is to close, but most Nepalis know the word as strike. Of the last 12 days, 8 days have been bundhs. No school. No public transportation. No way out of Godavari, but by foot. We finally just returned to school today after four days of bundhs. The short story is the Maoists pulled out of the government and threatened to go back to the jungle (which is what they always do when they don't get their way. They set a great example of civil disobedience. They could learn a thing or two from Rosa Parks or Gandhi.), petrol prices have gone up, which requires the micros, vans and buses (public transportation) to increase their prices. Unfortunately they should have increased the prices a while ago, so the drivers and owners are trying to almost double the prices. Of course the students have a problem with this because their discounts are not as much as they would like. The students were asking for a fifty percent discount from public transportation; not possible. The bundh was planned for a week, through Friday, but luckily the government and the drivers, owners and students came to a temporary agreement. I say temporary because after just returning to school today we are already hearing of bundhs for tomorrow and Friday.

Everyone is distracted. We don't find out if we have school until an hour before school on that day. There are very few assurances which is very difficult when you are planning tests, quizzes and daily lesson plans. After being out of school for six days (including the holiday) I have to review everything I taught last week in hopes that there won't be a bundh so I can give a quiz on Friday. So I am preparing for the unknown. I gave homework today and then 'If-there-is-a-bundh-tomorrow-homework' as well.

What do we do on these bundh days? It rains. We read a lot. We go for walks. I do yoga. We have lengthy conversations about whether or not there will be school the next day. Sometimes we make bets, but then we all became superstitious about our bets. Sarah recently made a hilarious video about my injury including interviews of staff members, neighbors, community-mates, students and yes, it included bloopers. We had a viewing of that last night. On one of the bundh days I cleaned all of the windows in communal space, so we can now see when it actually is raining and when its not. This morning on the way out to school we noticed the fine works of what could be a rat, so we might make that a job on our next bundh. Pat has been determined to fix the leaky faucet in the bathroom. Caleen has become more creative with correspondence home. The table in our room has quickly become our 'work space' on whatever distraction we are in the midst of. I'm getting Sambid, our neighbor, to teach me how to play a maadal, drum.

We started a count of bundh days on our calender in hopes that by counting them they might start to disappear. Since the Maoists just submitted their resignation from the government, after winning a majority of the seats in the election a few months ago, I am somewhat pessimistic that this is the end of bundhs. We are heading in town tonight to meet some recently finished JVs, Lincoln and Greg, and we'll find out tomorrow morning if we'll be walking back to Godavari or not. Herau! Ke hunchha ke hunchha.

2008-06-21T07:43:00.006-05:00

I know we blend, but Pats the one in the orange shirt

Every family chooses an auspicious time and an auspicious day to plant rice. On my birthday, as we were walking out the front gate on the way up to school we saw our students joyously skipping down the hill. Bundh. No school. Two minutes later Sushma told us her mom and the gals chose that day to plant rice. So because there was no school we were in!! Auspicious indeed. The above picture is me helping to clear the field. The old woman behind me was my instructor, but she is on a cigg break in this picture. After the field is cleared than you start planting the rice. It wasn't until the end that I finally got the hang of it and by than it was time to stop and eat.

No if, ands or...

This is about the time the women all started singing Nepali folk songs. I was grinning from ear to ear. Absolutely fantastic! Great birthday.

2008-04-26T21:55:00.000-05:00

It has been too long since I last wrote on this blog. Much has happened since the last time I wrote: Nepal had a peaceful election that gave the Maoists a majority representation in the new Constituent Assembly. This assembly will be re-writing the constitution and deciding whether or not the monarchy will stay or go; Pat and Caleen moved up to Godavari and we have all started the new school year; Chris left and is currently residing in China for another week or two before he heads home; I have the same class schedule as last year, but am also teaching one section of class 2 science; I have entered my second year in Nepal; my mom, sister and friends came to visit and we had a blast(☺); and a million different ups and downs in between, but today I want to tell you about my new bright purple friend Nermal who is uncomfortably wrapped around my foot.
Sunday the four of us went up to school to help out with the games portion of Scouts. I was in charge of girl’s football for the day. To start practice I had the girls do a quick warm up run. They all complained, “ohhh miss. Really?” I said, “We always have to do a warm up so we don’t get hurt.” Hmmm. Long story short, I fell on a huge rock in the middle of the flat grass field and ripped a tendon. Very painful. With ten class 7 girls around me looking very concerned at their teacher who was squawking around on the ground making noises like a dying seagull, I did the best I could not to scream out that four letter word that sometimes slips out in situations such as these. I succeeded. As my ankle swelled up to the size of a grapefruit one of the girls looked down at me and said, “Miss, lets think positively.” I appreciated her optimism immensely. So after a few hours at the Patan Hospital emergency room I now have this bright purple fiber-glass caste on my foot up to my shin for about three weeks. Pat has deemed it his job to write a hilarious joke on the top of the caste and write the answer on the bottom of my foot, out of my reach and visibility. He’s also made me several delicious egg sandwiches. Sarah is writing me a letter a day while I stay home for the week. This includes a colored envelope (which she painted) and matching paper. This tiny document also includes a word of the day from Webster’s dictionary. (She also has the job of drugging me before I go to sleep, future vocation, who knows? The other night three sips of whiskey did the trick.) Caleen has provided me with delicious Choco-pies and has the unfortunate job of tucking me at night; this includes stacking several blankets and pillows and trying to remember how I had it set up the night before.
So you can imagine I am in a bit of a funk. Prior to this, I thought I was the happiest I have been in Nepal. My language is good; I am a homeroom teach this year and am stoked with my classes; I was spending time with several of the shopkeepers; going to the hospice center more regularly; I just finished Anna Karenina (victory!) and I was running the trails of the woods behind our house, exploring Godavari in a completely different way. Unfortunately, most of this will be put on hold. I know, buck up Denise! It’s not permanent. I’ll be back to school in a week or two, hopefully. My health is good (aside from this tiny thing), and the caste will be off in a month, hopefully. I can name a million different problems that are a million times worse than spending a month with Nermal. Take each day as it comes. I am, unfortunately, not in regular contact with most of you; so writing emails, blogs and letters that are down or wildly up can be dangerous because they are really mere snapshots into our lives. So today, I’m giving you a snapshot of me being down.
The wind is picking up and its suddenly getting dark. Rain is near. At least this didn’t happen during monsoon season. There are silver linings everywhere. I just have to decide whether or not I want to see them. Just another bump in the road.
The Emergency Room on Sunday was tough. In a large dismal room there were probably about 40-50 patients. There was a beautiful little girl next to me with sparkling green eyes. (Most Nepalis have brown eyes.) She had a very large laceration on her head that needed stitches. She was rolled on her side facing me as the nurses shaved the part of her head that needed stitches. I talked to her, learned that her name was Urusha and tried my best to distract her from what was happening. But when the needle came for the anesthetic, they had to cover her head with a cloth and hold her down. I saw her tiny little dirty toes squirming back and forth and I was rolled away to x-ray. Outside x-ray were about 20 people waiting to enter. Privilege shows its ugly face. Because I teach at one of the more ‘elite’ schools in this small country, the teacher that was with us (along with whatever privilege I wear everyday) knew someone who quickly got us in and out of Dr.’s consultations, x-rays, a second round of x-rays and fees so that I was back home in four hours. Some people are called back for x-rays the next day or night. I guess solidarity takes the back seat in emergencies? It seems the idea of solidarity with the poor, something that I have been discerning and moving towards since I got here, continues to teach me new lessons. I befriended many patients I came across that day, but I felt wildly uncomfortable and ugly as they pushed me in front of people who had been waiting since the morning or day before.
As much as I cringe at the privilege that put me at the front of the line, today I am using that privilege to call an orthopedic doctor at another hospital to see if I need an MRI. (This doctor is one who the Jesuits often use and is an alumni of our school.) Where do I find myself in this word solidarity? Our community had several conversations about solidarity when the country was going through tumultuous times that might have required us to leave the country. (Those times have since passed.) We have all spent a lot of time building relationships over the past year and they are very important to us. We have built our lives here. But at any moment if things were to become ‘unstable’ we were on one of the first planes out to safety, leaving behind our neighbors, students and friends.
We talked about solidarity quite a bit at orientation. I remember hearing from an FJV, ‘you will never be in solidarity with the poor.’ Yes, there are decisions that we can make to bring us closer to living in solidarity with the poor, but I must agree that we cannot escape our privilege. We talk about false solidarity. For example, not taking a shower for weeks or not cleaning your clothes for a week can be false solidarity. Being dirty doesn’t bring you any closer to the poor than being clean. And in medical emergencies, not taking the best care you can get is also false solidarity. So I’m standing in this disillusioned world of broken solidarity. We live in the village. Our students, friends and neighbours who live in this same village with less privilege get a call to come back the next day and I slip through the line and seek a second opinion from an alum. But given the opportunity the less privileged would do the same. The unavailability of access to health care is the injustice that I was feeling when I say I felt ugly. Watching this injustice unfold before my eyes…that was the ugliness.

Three days later…
I wanted to piggy-back this last blog and so decided to write just one long blog. So those of you that are still with me, feel free to take a break, get your coffee, take a stretch or pick you nose. Yesterday I went to B & B Hospital, a nicer hospital. Ratan Daai, a cook at the school, took me in the school car. He was exactly the older brother and friend that I needed that day.

It turns out Dr. Ashok Baskanta, who Sarah had talked with on the phone a few days earlier about me coming, is not only the head of orthopedics at the hospital, but he is also the Medical Director of the Hospital and had at one point lived in the same house we live in. He shared these stories with me when he was poking and prodding my ankle trying to divert my attention. I was on to his tricks. They took off Nermal and did a stress x-ray. I’ll skip some of the details of this, but thank goodness for anesthesia! So it turns out that the stress x-ray was positive and I did, indeed, tear the tendon from the bone. (These x-rays are going to be great resources for science class!) After the swelling goes down I’ll go back in a week to get another caste for six weeks. (Also thank goodness that Sarah’s mom, a nurse, will be here for the next appointment!) This means that Caste Removal Day will be on my 25th birthday, Friday, June 13th. We’re going to party like its 2065! (Nepal follows a different calendar and it really is the year 2065. *joke borrowed from s.szczepanik)

So my gut instinct to seek a second opinion was good; although also an option that most in this country don’t have. At B& B Hospital you have to pay for every single service before you get it, down to application of band-aids. (I later found out from Katie who works in a children’s hospital, that it is like this at all hospitals in Nepal.) We paid for the doctor’s consultation, caste removal, anesthetic, band-aid, x-ray, ace-bandage, gauze and iodine all before it happened. I have never been so aware of money. No money, no service. I have made a conscious effort NOT to exercise privilege and here I flexed my privilege to get what I needed.

Nepal is very nepotistic. There is a term here, thulo maanchhe. Thulo meaning big and maanchhe meaning person. A thulo maanchhe has weight in the system. A thulo maanchhe is an ‘important person’ and they get special treatment. At one point when I was waiting outside the dressing room, I heard one of the other women waiting outside say thulo maanchhe aayo. (aayo-came) That was me. I was the thulo maanchhe. I’ve been fooling myself. When we witness blatant acts of nepotism and I joke around with Nepalis about this thulo maanchhe or that one, are they confused of these words that are also coming from the mouth of a thulo maanchhe? This temporary solidarity with the poor doesn’t make any sense to me? After two years I get on an expensive oil-fueled plane and fly back to the U.S. taking with me the lesson that there is injustice in the world? That’s not solidarity. That’s not enough for me. I could come up with some cute and tidy conclusion wrapped in a bow about the injustices of the medical system and a nepotistic culture, how we all decide to live with privilege, what solidarity with the poor really means, but the truth is as much as I have learned from this experience I still feel that ugliness and I don’t have any grand conclusions.

2008-04-02T22:20:00.002-05:00

Next month's cover of Vogue (Nepal). Coming to tea shops near you!

2008-03-14T05:44:00.010-05:00

At the end of the ceremony Chris gave us all tika (blessings)

Rooftop Nwarayan ceremony for Chrisji (is that better katie?)

earlier that day...two happy guys getting ready to kill a chicken

2008-02-19T23:09:00.003-05:00

The Science Experiment Crew

Last Saturday was the science/math/art Exhibition at our school. I had been working with the class four kids on their experiments for about 2-3 weeks. I think they all turned out pretty well. Although, Caleen and I were glad when it ws all over and slept peacefully on Saturday night. The winners were going to be announced this week, but school was cancelled today because there is not enough deisel for the buses to run. There has been an indefinite strike called in the southern part of the country so little is getting into the valley. You can imagine that people are not happy about this. Nowadays (I can't believe I just wrote Nowadays. Sarah confirmed that yes, it is one word.) we can't get a bus from town to Godavari; it takes us two thirds of the way and then we either have to walk the rest of the way or try to flag one down on the way if its not too full. It's amazing how you can go from having a wondeful conversation with a beautiful old Nepali woman at the bus park and then as soon as a bus is spotted, she is stepping on your foot and doing the arm reach on the bus door so as to block anyone from getting in front of her. I try to remain peaceful and calm in these circumstances, but when you know that the next bus won't come for another hour and there are twenty-thirty people waiting with you, its difficult. Because of my excellent vision, I can generally spot the bus coming before others and hence get there quicker. Ugh, that sounds awful. So the science exhibition...it was really a blast. I think the day may have been too long for the kids, but we had a great time together.

I will keep you posted on the situation in Nepal as it unravels, but for the time being keep the people of Nepal, especially the leaders in your prayers. shanti shanti shanti

2008-01-30T03:09:00.000-05:00

Every morning during the Re-O/Dis-O retreat each of us led or helped lead a morning prayer, which as you can see from the above picture took many different forms. Sarah and Katie lead a dance/movement prayer that was really pretty great. We played follow-the-leader in a dancing circle. Each person led sporadic, uncontrolled or controlled jumps, dance moves, reactions or whatever came to them. It was extremely liberating and freeing. What a great way to start the day. The day prior Chris and I led a tree-hugging prayer. (I know what you must be thinking, 'it's official. She's a tree-hugger!') In the middle of a beautiful pine forest we stood in a cirlce and while Chris and I were talking about the importance of the soil and the trees and the symbiotic relationship between humans and plants a deep and heavy mist came up from the valley and made its way through the trees. I've said several times before, but living in Nepal (and maybe teaching science) has opened my heart and mind time and time again to the beauty of the Earth. It's hard to miss the Earth's beauty when you are walking in the shadows of the Himals; always there, but sometimes hidden behind the clouds. They watch over us.

2008-01-03T23:38:00.000-05:00

The Christmas party in class. I brought in some Christmas tunes to listen to and explained to all the kids why I'll Be Home for Christmas may be one of the saddest Christmas songs ever. I don't think they quite understand my humour yet.

(the drawings on the board are their Environment Advertisements for the Science Exhibition in Febuary...stay tuned!)

Our manger at school, with traditional Nepali flare. You stay tomato, i say tamoto...lets call the whole thing Christmas

Oh the holidays. So Christmas and New Years wasn't exactly the same as past holidays, but I wouldn't expect it to be. Christmas turned out to be really nice. We went to mass at a Mexican restaurant just across town in which Sarah spent the whole mass behind a wall. Okay, not great for everyone. After mass we all went back to the Jawalakhel kids' house and enjoyed some warm holiday spirits, laughter, giggles and more banter. ha! We passed up the opportunity to share our favourite Christmas memories past for some silliness. Good choice I think, maybe next year with one Christmas away from home under our belts we can dive into the childhood Christmas memories. The next morning we made a traditional Christmas breakfast guacamole, white chocolate covered strawberries (thanks to Mrs. Kilcline!), coffee, delicious sticks you dip in coffee and eggs. During our Christmas brunch Sarah and Caleen informed us they decoded the Secret Santa scheme and knew who everyone had. Process of elimination, there are only six of us...no Inspector Gadgets here. We exchanged presents and watched a wonderful DVD that Katie made about Nepal and JVI in Nepal. It is really wonderful. Don't hold your breath for the link quite yet, but its coming in due time. Anticipation makes it ten times more exciting! After spending some time together, I went up to the pastoral center in Godavari at what was the end of their Christmas program. You can't be everywhere at once, but next year I hope to spend Christmas at the church in Godavari.

For New Years Eve, Sarah, Chris and I went up to Lamatar with Chundra, Hari, Fr. Greg and a few others. It was spectacular. The Himals were out and as marvelous as ever. We were spoiled by Hari and Chundra's excellent cooking and we brought in the new year taking turns in the sauna! Actually, we didn't quite make it to midnight so at 11:30 we counted down from 10 and banged around a lot of pots and pans. Not quite like last year, but this was absolutely perfect. We spent a few nights in Lamatar, reading, relaxing and going on beautiful walks through the woods. Its funny but while we were there I really could feel time moving. You know that feeling you get when you know things are going to change, but you don't know how, but you do know that its going to be okay? Impermanence impermanence impermanence. Happy holidays everyone!

2007-10-22T04:18:00.000-05:00

The Moran Memorial school auditorium

When we were in Deonia we visited the other Jesuit school in the tea gardens, Moran Memorial School. All of the students are children of tea workers. It is the only Nepali-medium Jesuit school in Nepal. The fees, based on family income, are 50R/month, 80R/month and 100R/month. (The exchange rate is 1USD: 65Rupees.) (Liz, I took the crayons that you sent there.) The worker's conditions have recently gotten better because they have organized unions, nothing like the unions in India, but at least it’s a start. After the unions organized, the workers increased their wages to 90R/day, approxamately 500R/week. They are paid every Friday and the owner conveniently sets up booze for sale just outside the office. Alcoholism is a big problem in the community as it is througout Nepal. More than half of the houses are owned by the Tea Company owner, also Nepali, and the rest of the people own the land themselves. The houses are made of bamboo and tin roofs. There is roughly 6-8 people in each family. The infant mortality rate is very high because of dehydration caused from untreated diarrhea. Tuberculosis is very common in the worker's community, partly because it is so easily spread and partly because their living conditions are so poor. TB kills people with AIDS in Nepal as Pneumonia kills people with AIDS in the U.S. Education isn’t really valued because the family depends on surplus income from the children. My previous belief that education is the end to poverty is not as strong when I find myself walking through communities such as this and look down a long dirt road at the owner's glutunous mansion and wonder who really needs the education? and what kind of education would that be?

The fields are tight and picking is extremely tedious work as you only pick about 3-4 leaves from each plant (only the newest leaves). The work is year-round, but the workers pick for nine months out of the year. On holidays the kids are already scheduled to work with their parents in the tea gardens. The way its set up right now, the workers are somewhat bound to the gardens. Although, with the unions, Fr. Bill said more and more people are trying to save money to buy their own land. We visited one of the student’s homes, Josephine. Just as in all Nepali homes, we were offered seats and chhiya. Chris played hide and seek with some of the little kids, who were curiously eyeing us. I’m not quite sure what it was, but there was something pulling at me while I was there. This was a different kind of poverty. I still am working through my thoughts from that day. What was pulling at me? No matter how long you live in a poor country, you never get used to the poverty and it still overwhelms you. I still cry. I still get angry and I never want that to stop. I never want to become numb to the world’s suffering. I still haven’t figured out what my role is supposed to be. In Argentina, a mother who had lost her whole family and is one of the leaders of Mothers of the Disappeared said, “A witness is one who looks, who does not turn away, who does not despair or give up, who is willing to be called upon, who will speak up and testify in public, who will take an oath, who will bind themselves to the truth so help me God, to the community, for the community for without the witness there can be no community." I’m not quite sure if I am a witness, but I think my existence lies somewhere in those words.

2007-10-22T02:40:00.000-05:00

we may not have a coast, but...

Sarah taking a quick break on the way up

(it just so happened to be next to a Tibetan monastery)

Fr. Bill with Josephine in the tea gardens in Deonia

Leaving Sandakphu...unbelievable morning

The God(avari) squad

The crew with Fr. Bill in Sandakphu in the wee hours of the morning

We boarded a bus in Kathmandu and 15 hours later, the next morning, we arrived at our destination, Deonia. The ride started off a little rocky. Just as Sarah and I were commenting that our driver was the craziest driver that we had yet to come across in Nepal, the window across from us shattered from the vibration! I mean…At one point in the middle of the night, I woke up realizing we weren’t moving. There was a “jam.” (Its interesting the English words Nepalis know like jam and morning walk and low voltage.) The bus was so hot that a few of us got off and lay down on the road with the rest of the passengers from the buses that we were sandwiched between. Finally we reached Deonia. Deonia is in the Terai, the southern most part of Nepal. The weather in the Terai is much much hotter than the rest of Nepal. In fact, Deonia looked more like Mississippi about 100 years ago than any part of Nepal I have seen. I kept thinking ‘down by the bayou…’ Most of the original houses are built on wooden stilts. The area is most known for its tea gardens, mango groves, bamboo stands, bananas, exotic plants and insects, villages tucked beneath scattered palms, streams, waterfalls and of course, its heat. Fr. Bill gave us some directions, but we were pleasantly greeted by some of the students as we got off the bus. They said the car was coming so we sat down at the local tea shop. We visited a toilet in the back. The toilet was a bamboo outhouse that brilliantly used a large banana leaf as a tube instead of a hole. I felt like I was in Swiss Family Robinson. A young man riding a bicycle with a large bed in the back came around the corner and an old man at the tea shop shouted, “gaDi aayo!” (the car came). We all got a chuckle. We rested for a day and then Br. Herman drove us to the bus station in Jhapa where we boarded another bus and drove up, up, up into the mountains. Two hours later, we got off and a few hours after that I realized that I had left my Pema Chowdron book on the bus. yes! Impermanence. Hopefully someone will get some good use out of it. Throughout the trek, we flirted with the Indian and Nepali borders. We made friends with some older German trekkers, some men from West Bengal, an English couple and some Bangladeshis. At each guest house we were greeted with warm chhiya, smiles, delicious porridge, dal baat (traditional nepali meal of rice and dal), hot water and beds. Us gals tripled up several times, but it was snug (except when I woke up to Sarah coughing in my face).

Sandakphu was our highest altitude (3636metres) and had the most beautiful views. A few people got a little altitude sickness because we went up 900m in one day. Your not supposed to ascend more than 1000m a day. Our walks were pretty strenuous, but that was made more difficult by our decisions to always take the short cuts. One time Sean and I were a bit ahead of the group and I saw a shortcut that looked pretty similar to the rest of the paths we had been taking. After going down a bit, Sean became a bit weary. So we checked to make sure that the other path was at least headed in the same direction and then I nudged him with adventurous adjectives to go down the road less traveled. After we galloped down through this thick forest we realized that we were a little too deep in and it was not the right path. oops. Turns out, that Katie, Caleen and Fr. Bill followed our footsteps down that same wrong path which set them back a bit. What is time anyway?

Overall it was an unbelievable time! We laughed so hard we peed our pants, we crossed suspension bridges, we made many new friends from different places, we visited monasteries, attempted to read Tibetan prayers written on epic stones covered in moss, we sweat, we froze, we woke up with the sun (or with the roosters), we talked about future vocations, poverty in Nepal, injustice, love, biodiversity, Paul Farmer, Lord of the Rings (if you saw the landscape you would have seen that it was somewhat unavoidable) and everything that falls in between and outside, we conjured up imaginative journeys that we were embarking upon, (like the one that involved us having to get an antidote to a deadly skin disease that was only available at the top of the mountain), we ate dried yak that was again fried, Sean ate eggs!, we looked forward to porridge every morning, (there was an interesting correlation, the higher we went the more water and less porridge) we walked in the dark, we walked in the clouds (not at all a reference to that awful Keanu Reeves movie, although tears were shed at the end when the grapevines went up in flames), we walked with animals, we didn’t shower for days, we fed off the natural beauty that surrounded us, we walked in silence, we walked in pairs, we picked Fr. Bill’s brain (filled with over 30 years of life in Nepal), we ate strange fruits along the way, we received Durga puja on the first day of Dashain from an old woman along the path, we drank approximately 20 cups of chhiya (tea) and ate roughly 8 plates of dal baat and we returned to Deonia. It was lovely.

2007-10-07T02:03:00.001-05:00

These are pictures from when Becca, Sarah's friend from home, was visiting. She may have sat in on one of my most rowdy classes, but it was fun. You simply can't expect six-year olds to stay in their seats all day long.

Good ole' heads-shoulders-knees-and toes-knees and toes! Yes, I know what your thinking, that is the most beautiful shade of green you have ever seen. It really matches are white skin terrifically. cough. cough. We are working on getting involved on picking the colour of next year's khurtas.

2007-10-04T22:28:00.001-05:00

hello all! I hope this latest blog finds you all well and enjoying the unseasonably warm weather for those of you living in the Maryland region. As the season have changed, we are all reminded of fall at home and have gotten a little homesick. I'm not gonna lie though, knowing that it isn't really fall does help a little bit. Its funny because when your not home you invision all of the great things about fall in one compact memory. So I picture all of you picking pumpkins together, going to the Crofton craft fair, eating caramel apples, going on hay rides and laughing with a few beers over a nicely warmed camp fire. HA! Anyone doing any of those things? To be honest, I'm not sure if I've done some of those things in the last five years or so. But I have an active imagination, it keeps me sane or insane. Who knows the difference anymore?

Our phone is working again. Phew. It never really bothers us, but I can see how it is a good thing to have in case of an emergency. Like on Sunday we had a bundh (national strike, aka the country shuts down), but none of us knew because the teachers or students who normally call us couldn't. So at about 8:15am when Sarah and I didn't see any students walking up the hill to school we knew something was fishy. We went down and asked our neighbors and sure enough there was a bundh. I have a feeling bundhs are going to start becoming a more regular thing as we approach "elections." The Maoists have pulled out of the government (probably not the best move towards peace) and have declared that they are going to make sure the elections don't happen. The Maoists want the government to declare the country a republic and have proportional representation in the government BEFORE the elections. The people who have really been put at risk, as normally happens during times of instability in a country, are the journalists. Peace Brigades, my former employer, is working in Kathmandu. I frequently check there website to read about the journalists and press organizations they are accompaning ( www.pbiusa.org). Unfortunately, because the only people who can report these incidents are the journalists it goes unreported. Sr. Janet is really wondering why there is not more of a human rights presence in Nepal, but mostly, I think, its because everything that is happening is behind close doors and ALL of the parties are participating in this kind of cohersion and violence. This should not alarm you at all. We are more than safe. We always joke (I use the word lightly) about how when Fr. Greg or one of the city JVs calls us to let us know of the recent trouble in the city we are on the roof bird watching, or taking part in a sunset or doing yoga by candlelight. The juxtapositions we create can be somewhat humourous. Anyway, so no need to worry. I just wanted to let you know to give you a slight peak into the "politics" of the country.

There is always so much I want to tell you all, but most of it will never usually fits into the emails or blogs because its part of the everday so its not always at the forefront of my thougths when I am hoping on the computer for a few seconds in between classes. So what is going on this week? Tuesday was a pariticularly difficult day (but I suppose yesterday was as well). My last class of the day on Tuesday was with 1A (my favourite group of youngsters, not that I have favourites.) There is one boy, Sambhrant, who is such a neat kid. I have sat on the bus with him on the way into town after school and had several nice conversations (keeping in mind the language barrier of a first grader). Most of these conversations intail him laughing at me because I can speak Nepali. The little ones always get a kick out of that. Unfortunately, Sambhrant never does his work and is extremely hyper-active. After several attempts at trying to get him involved in the assignment, I asked him to leave the classroom with me. He warily took my hand and I talked to him outside the classroom. We came back in and five minutes later he was causing a big distrubance. Sr. Janet had told me that I could send kids (in class 1) to her office that could not settle down and she would give them a puzzle or game to do quietly on the floor. She's so great. So I said, "Okay Sambhrant, you need to leave the classroom." I told him to go to Sr. Janet's office (which is my fault because I made it sound punitive) and he gripped his little six-year old hands to the bottom of the desk and was paralyzed by this unbelievable fear. He said, "no, no, no!" Tears welled up and he was frozen. He refused to move or leave the classroom for fear of being beat. I'm not sure whether this fear comes from the other teachers in school (more likely) or from home. Either way it was heartbreaking to watch him be so affraid. I tried to hold his hand to see if he would walk out with me, but he wouldn't. I refuse to physically remove the kids. (This happens very often in class 1 and 2, but doesn't seem to bother any of the other teachers.) Some of the other students were actually trying to coax him to go with me. I can't stand watching these kids be so fearful. Sometimes if you raise your hand above their heads they flinch like beaten dogs. After class, everyone lined up outside because it was the end of the day. I held Sambhrants hand and we walked over and sat down on the stairs. I told him in a very calm voice that no matter what he does, I will NEVER EVER beat him. I had him put his hand in mine and we said we will both be nice to each other. Wednesday morning Sr. Janet had Sambhrant and a few other boys from his class to her office to show them that it is a nice, safe and loving place (it is). After the kids left, I, myself, went into Sr. Janet's office and just started crying. Any ounce of creativity or original thought is literally beaten out of these beautiful children by the time they are in class three. By class four, they are robots. In art class it takes every ounce of effort for them not to copy drawings from the book because they have always had to conform to rules, guidelines and regulations. Everytime I enter art class, we go over the definition of original thought. I break it down with silly gestures and fourth grade words. Sarah actually introduced the patent to her class. Every kid has a patent on their own work and it cannot be duplicated. (She's really amazing with her kids.)

If the kids do not follow these rules and, God forbid, think for themselves, then they are punished (and not in a you'll-sit-in-the-corner kind of way). These are children!!! Unfortunately, I think there are plenty of teachers at our school who don't even see the kids as human beings, let alone equals. Bold statement, I know, but sadly I think there is much truth in it. It's like that whole bumper-sticker campaign, first we must work on coexisting together than we can talk about peace. If we, as teachers, do it right we have the opportunity to teach these kids how to love and respect all living things, but that is not always easy. Corporal punishment is easy and aside from the immediate change in class discipline, the teahcers who are beating will never see the negative long term effects of teaching through violent means. Needless to say, this has been a struggle for Chris, Sarah and I over the past couple weeks. We are all approaching this problem differently, but continue to reflect on it together as a community. Our main point of reflection is how to be a peaceful and positive presence for these children, as well as try to influence other teachers to do the same. Everytime I enter a classroom with a stick or piece of wood in sight, the first thing I do is break it in half and throw it out the window. Although, yesterday I came across a whole box of sticks. It's no secret that Chris, Sarah and I are the ones making the sticks disappear. The kids tell the teachers. I plan on getting rid of the box of sticks after school today.

Well, I am off to give an exam to class 1 kids. Thats right, 6-year-olds take hour long exams! Luckily most of my exam involves colouring! I hope your all well. love you. In peace,

denise

2007-09-12T22:22:00.000-05:00

This was Kagendra Sir's (our neighbor downstairs, friend, family and teacher) son's Name Day, Nwaryan. It was such a beautiful celebration. Sarah and I got to "help out" with the women in the kitchen, but I think we learned more than we were a help.

This is from Raksha Bandana again. These are the Bhraman priests that were lined up all over the temple giving tika and renewing the sacred string.

2007-09-12T08:39:00.000-05:00

Ahhh. The server at school has been down for awhile. Just to show you that I'm still around and updating my blog not so regularly, I thought I would add a picture. This is me at Raksha Bandana. Very few women were giving tika, mostly the men, but I scouted out one lone woman who tied red and yellow string on my wrist for good luck(that I will wear until the end of Teehar) and gave me tika. Gotta go, late for a meeting. Yikes!

2007-08-03T03:44:00.000-05:00

Alright, so I understand that writing a blog once a month is not exactly the ideal way of "updating" my blog, but I will keep working on that. I am quite busy these days. We have Parent's Day for class 3 and 4 this weekend. I was in charge of doing a "group action song" with 25 students. I chose the song Turn, Turn, Turn by the Byrds. As for the 'action' part of the song...we'll see how it turns out tomorrow. I will be happy to be done with Parent's Day preparation as it takes way too much time away from school work. There is a difference in opinion over priorities.

I have been spending two to three days a week after school and on the weekends at a hospice center in Godavari for women and children with HIV. I do arts and crafts with the kids, as well as help them with their homework and talk with the women. One of the kids, Jevan, is too sick to go to school. At first we thought that he was going to be able to attend school with the rest of the kids, but he got another infection right before school started and the Srs. decided that it was best that he not attend school. We were all thrilled that the rest of the kids were accepted into schools, but that excitment was tainted by Jevan's sadness. The kids were beaming with joy as they got fitted for their new uniforms. Jevan was pretty upset upon hearing he could not go to school so I bought a few copies (notebooks) and books for him and we have been doing lessons together. I wish that I could give him lessons during the day when all of the kids are at school and he is home alone, but thats not possible.

Yesterday afternoon, one of the women took me aside and showed me pictures of her family. Her husband and only son died a few years ago. My nepali was limited because sometimes specific discussions require different understandings of the language. (Also, I am not 100% sure what is culturally appropriate when talking about people who have died.) I am not sure if their deaths were HIV-related or not. Her two daughters live at the other hostel the Srs. run in town. She sees them every three-four weeks. She is so proud of her daughters and I was thrilled that she shared her family with me. The women that live there knit hats all day that a Canadian organization then sells as a fundraiser. They look after the kids, but have little interaction outside their "compound." I am looking forward to buying some knitting needles in town and spending some time knitting with them. Mom, your knitting lessons are really kicking in here. Thanks!

I am constantly filled with questions that keep my neurons over-stimulated. I enjoy sharing these doubts, struggles and reflections with Sarah and Chris. It's not common that our converstaions go late into the night. We had a new volunteer come yesterday, Caleen. She will be staying with Sean and Katie in the city. I look forward to meeting her tomorrow. Wow, I'm not the newbie anymore. I can't believe 6 months have gone by already. Time does exist. I forget that sometimes.

The monsoon is in full swing. I am counting down the days until it's over. Thats not true, but it's definately a challenge. Our food gets moldy quickly and our clothes never dry. (That has nothing to do with the fact that our clothes lines are in the attic. ha.) Because our front yard somewhat resembles a small lake, I carry two bricks with me when I cross it. When I get to the last highest point, I throw one brick out that I can step on, than I throw the other brick. That usually doesn't get me to the other side, but I'm getting further and further every time.

I hope your all living, learning and growing. Please know that you are always in my thoughts and prayers, despite the distance and length of time between communication. love,
denise

2007-07-09T22:06:00.000-05:00

Hello!!

It has been a long time since my last post and I have not been as faithful as promised. We are in the heart of monsoon season and I have never seen leeches or butterflies quite as big as here in Godavari. Everything is mutant size! This just means that you have to be very careful when you walk through grass, meaning I don't walk through grass. The best part of monsoon season is the Himalayas. After a heavy rain, they are so clear and magnificent. Everytime I see them they take my breathe away. I can't help but think they have this natural wisdom, as if they know something that I don't or that I won't ever understand. They have been here long before me and they will be here long after me. There permanance on this earth is beautiful, but unfortunately as more roads are built and more cars hit the roads, the Valley becomes more and more polluted. People who have left and come back five or ten years later say they can already see the changes. It's heartbreaking to go through downtown Kathmandu and see all of the trash and pollution. When will begin to realize that this is our only home and that we need to stop talking about taking action and actually do something? Why is it that education, health care and the environment always suffer, while military and defense budgets continue to increase? I can only ask myself these questions so many times until the spark inside of me brings me to my feet and I start a long walk against a strong current.

I could continue on that note for several pages, but I'll stop at that. We are in exam week at school. Yesterday I just gave my first exam to 90 Class 1 students on General Knowledge. If your thinking, "6 and 7-year-olds take exams?", those were my thoughts exactly. I am really looking forward to giving my science exam because I worked really hard with the kids to review and prepare. I won't say all of the teachers, but a majority of the teachers here teach directly from the book and only that which is in the book and give little notes. (One of our science books advocates for the use of pesticides with DDT. Enough said.) Several of the students have complained about not knowing what to study or even how to study. Sarah has done a really good job in her classes giving the students study skills. I'm hoping that soon the school will start after-school tuition, or tutoring, for students who need extra help.

I am co-facilitating the Social Service Club at school with my neighbor, who is also a teacher at the school. A few weeks ago we went to visit elderly people at Pashupati Temple. It is a government funded facility. I'm not sure what you think of when you think of a home for elderly, but I was taken back by the apaulingly poor conditions in which the people live. The building is in the shape of a square with a large atrium ( I am hestitant to use the word atrium because I think it can sometimes infer a somewhat romantic and beautiful place.) in the center. We passed out fruits to all 235 people living there. There were three long dark corriders with beds on both sides. Some of the rooms had only three walls and a curtain the separated from the outside. Kagendra Sir, the other teacher I went with, (also someone I greatly admire for his dedication to social justice and peace in Nepal) suggested I bring my camera for documentation of social service club events. I immediately cringed and became very aware of my race. There is a certain stereotype of whites that I am insecure of...the white person with the camera who came to take pictures of the poor. I don't think this is me at all, in fact I know it's not, but it always pops into the back of my mind when I am in this particular situation. Anyway, some of the people very much enjoyed getting their pictures taking and I was glad to see them smile. Most of the people living there do not talk, can't talk or have some mental disabilities. Kagendra Sir said that a majority of the people living their have no families and that it is quite difficult to get into the center. Some were even brought in by previous "owners" as one of the girls in the club said. It was a very interesting choice of words and I wasn't sure if it was a language barrier or what. I left that afternoon, but my mind stayed there for days.

Our club met again (we meet once a week after school) and decided to visit the marble quary camp just up the street from our school. The marble quary is probably my least favorite thing about Godavari. Almost everyday during second period there are blastings. I know the blastings are coming and I am still never prepared. The explosions definately disturb the peace and serentity of Godavari and frighten the students. So three students, Kagendra Sir and I went to the workers' homes on Saturday. Most of them said their living conditions were good and rocks hardly fall into their community. As we continued through the community we ran across one older woman who spoke of the place very differently. The people living around her help her with money from time to time as her husband and son are both dead and she takes care of her daughter-in-law and grandson who are both mentally retarded. (They say "dumb" in Nepal, I'm never quite sure what is pc.) As we talked to her, her grandson behind her cried for food. These are our neighbors. We are starting some fundraising efforts for the club. I am composing a letter right now to send out to St. Xavier alumni. Our next acitivity is to perform a street drama in downtown Kathmandu to raise awareness about the negative effects of drugs and alcohol. Alcohol abuse among men is very common and destructive to families, especially in the villages. Our club is taking baby steps.

The parish in Godavari, one of the few in Nepal, just opened a hospice center for women and children with HIV. All of the women and children are taking anti-retroviral drugs, which is a blessing because I know how difficult it is for many countries in Africa to get these drugs. The children haven't started school because they just moved up here a few weeks ago. They are hoping to get into the local government school at the start of the second term. Only one of the boys is not able to go to school because of his health. We are all keeping our fingers crossed that the children will be let into the schools. So for now, I am spending two to three afternoons a week with them doing arts and crafts, playing games or teaching them English. The center is very nice; so nice that I can't help but think that two or three other centers could have been built if they had not put in wood carved banisters or marble countertops. The building was funded by a Catholic mission in Germany. Either way, it's a safe and loving home for the women and children.

Roots are growing in Godavari, but the wind of impermanance sends a tickle down my neck.

2007-06-17T03:20:00.000-05:00

Thank you all for your birthday greetings and wishes! My birthday started out...eh, not so well. The night before my birthday I got very sick. If making multiple trips to the bathroom in the middle of the night was not enough, the last time I returned, I got back in bed (feeling awful) tried to close my eyes...and a bat was in my room. I got up, stood in the hallway, looked down at Chris' door and looked down at Sarah's door. Ugh. Oh Nepal. I decided to befriend the bat. It wasn't worth wasting the remaining energy that I had that night. It is pretty safe to say that the time I have spent sick (which is only a total of 5-6 days) in Nepal are probably the worst days here. Luckily, thanks to the wonder drug erythromyacin, I was back on my feet after two days in bed. When I returned to school I walked into my first period class and a whole classroom full of class four students were grinning from ear to ear and singing Happy Birthday! The kids were so excited. Several of the students made cards, brought in candies and I even received a plastic rose. ha. To say I was happy wouldn't really justify the joy I felt. I won't put words to the memory. Some memories are only shamed with words. The rest of the day was nice. At tea break, the staff sang and we all ate the banana bread that I brought in for my birthday. The staff takes birthdays pretty seriously. If your birthday falls on a weekend, you are pretty much expected to bring in treats on Monday for the staff. Sarah's birthday was the second day of the 12 day teacher's strike. We attempted to bring in food, but we didn't know if we would have school until the next morning. This led to us eating three banana breads ourselves. Still though, I think it is a nice custom to bring in sweets or snacks to give to others on your birthday. Later that night we started our cooking extravaganza! We made chicken momos for the first time (Tibetan dumplings), salad, mashed potatoes, onion rings, popcorn and finished the night off with almost melted ice cream. Good company and good food, what more could I ask for. Throughout the day I remembered those thirty eager and smiling faces from school. It was the best gift I could have asked for. Sounds cheesy, I know, but true. I have really grown to love the kids in my classes, despite frustrating times. So par usual in Nepal, a plan fell through, but something greater appeared.

I know I am not posting blogs as much as I originally was, but don't worry...I'm back! Stay tuned...

2007-05-27T23:54:00.001-05:00

Rajeev at the Boudhanath Stupa in Boudha

Hello Friends and Family!

I wish I could say we have been busy up in Godavari, but due to the recent teacher's strike schools have been closed for the past 11 days. The strike started right in the middle of exam week, so the students have to take exams as soon as they return, with no review. We didn't find out school was closed until an hour and a half before school started. I am pretty sure we are returning to school tomorrow. Unfortunately, the students have had a week and a half to forget all of the material.

Saturday morning, Chris and I headed out to Boudha for a dharma talk at the white monastery. Although we weren't sure a talk was planned for that morning, we thought we would try it anyway. Turns out there wasn't a talk, but much to our surprise Rinpoche Choki Nima was giving a 100-day blessing. (I am not so sure of the significance of the 100 days.) A monk in the entranceway motioned for us to go and receive the blessing from Rinpoche. I peaked my head in and saw rows of monks seated all around the monastery. Holy intimidating. We took off our shoes and as I walked in I was thinking "AH! I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what I'm doing." I followed Chris' lead to the front of the monastery where Rinpoche was sitting on a raised platform. Rinpoche had a huge boyish grin on his face, placed the blessing in my hand and motioned for me to eat it. We came for a dharma talk and received a blessing from Rinpoche Choki Nima! It was quite exciting. While we were in Boudha we ran into Rajeev, a young boy Chris befriended several months ago and visits from time to time. Rajeev and his family live in a tented community (in which they pay 500r/month for one tent) just behind the main road in Boudha. Let me take a second to note that Rajeev is one of the most beautiful children I have ever met and quite clever. He is probably about 9 or 10 years old, although he told us he was 6 or 7. We followed Rajeev and his friend to his home. There were about 10-15 tents and one very questionable water source. We sat down on two beds that took up almost the whole tent and Rajeev's older sister immediately started making milk tea (with real milk, milk is somewhat expensive). The wood frames on the roof of the tent were black from the fires used for cooking. On the beds were all of their belongings neatly packed in four or five bags. Rajeev told us that tomorrow or the next day him and his family were moving back to India for a year or so. A bit of a surprise. Neither of Rajeev's parents spoke Nepali or English (Hindi only), so Rajeev translated for us. He is such a smart kid. As we chatted with his family and friends that slowly started trickling into the tent, his mother reached down and took off her ankl bracelet and asked if I wanted it. I said "No, no, it's yours. You keep." She insisted on giving me both of her ankle bracelets and reached down and put them around my ankles. I was somewhat uncomfortable by this gift, but so appreciative of her generosity and kindness. As the conversation continued, Rajeev, his friends and sibilings told us about this shoe-shining box that Rajeev really wanted (most shoe shiners have them). The box is very simple; it has two side containers for brushes, polishes and tools and a drawer to keep money and other items. There is a wood block on the top where people place there shoes and a handy canvas strap. The box costs 1500 rupees. Several times they asked if we could buy this box for him. Grrrr. They were not rude or pushy, but polite and simply asking for a favor. Who knows if the money was even for the box or for other things, but at that moment I could almost see the 1500 rupees I had on me tucked away in my backpack...just burning a hole. Why can't I give him this money? Frustration. I know why I can't and shouldn't, but sometimes, when your in the moment, you just want to hand it over so that Rajeev can buy this shoe shining box! Frustration. I know that giving the money would be a quick cure to fix the immediate feelings of pain and discomfort I was feeling. Sit with pain Denise. We talked for a little while longer and as we were leaving I took off my necklace that Pulung (the woman I lived with in Lesotho) had given me and put it around Rajeev's mother's neck. We said goodbye to Rajeev and his family, knowing that this could be the last time we see them. Walking away I wanted to scream, cry or just explode. Frustration. I felt like screaming, "I'm here! What do you want me to do? I'm here!" With every step I took the anklets jingled and I was reminded of the home and family we just left. We returned to Godavari and played frisbee and football at the school. Worlds collide.

2007-05-11T08:17:00.000-05:00

These are pictures from our recent five-day retreat at Changu Naryan. It was beautiful. We had pretty good views of the Himals almost everyday. Now it is back to work and school is keeping me busy busy busy. The rainy season is coming, if not already here. It's a pretty safe bet to carry an umbrella, which I don't have, with you everywhere you go, even if it is blue skies. It makes for an interesting walk up the hill to school in our saris. Oh yeah.

I am still finding class one and two to be quite difficult. The language barrier is pretty frusturating. Today I read this book about opposites and we were going to do this silly little skit where I put a kid on top of the desk and under the desk to do over-under, top-bottom, near-far, etc, but then the rain came. The class one and two classrooms have tin roofs. So just when things seem to be going okay...complete chaos. Oh boy. Practice makes perfect though. I am really enjoying my science classes. It's really nice because I spend most of my time with the class four students in science, art and library class. I am really looking forward to spending a lot of time in the library and getting things a little more organized. There are a lot of books in there that really shouldn't be there just to fill the shelves so it looks like the library is "full," like religious reviews from over ten years ago.

2007-04-22T00:44:00.000-05:00

This is a picture from the last day of camp at the St. Xavier School in Jawalakhel. We had such a blast on the last day. We scrimmaged the whole time and I joined along with the two other guys that were helping. After making some great passes I tripped over the ball and fell right on my back! The kids loved it! Overall I had a great time and hope to do it again next year. When I first started the camp I was kind of disenchanted that a majority of the kids were from more wealthy families, although some were on scholarship. Some of the children have "servants" and most have probably never done an ounce of manual labor in their lives. As the camp continued the director approached Sarah and I about a few girls that were acting out and causing trouble. The one girl in particular that he was referring to does not live with her parents. A majority of the children's parents live and work abroad. At first glance I only saw the monetary wealth, ignorantly thinking that people with money don't have the problems that people without money have. Yes the problems are different, very different. Not eating for days is very different than not a having a loving and supportive family. I am not going to argue that one is worse than the other, although the differences might be more clear in some cases, but it's important to see the whole person, which I did not do at first. Camp was great and I hope that the kids learned just as much from me as I did from them.

2007-04-18T07:26:00.000-05:00

Oh the first days of school. Sarah and I spent some time the night before teaching ourselves how to wear saris. Luckily, the next morning we were successful and it only took about thirty minutes. The other female teachers have assured us that we will be wipping those things around us in no time. My first day went well. The whole day I was thinking that every teach remembers their first day of school and this is mine! Kind of exciting. My classes went well. I laid down the law in each class while still being miss smiley...hopefully that will last throughout the year. Since I am in charge of library, I walked the students to the library only to find out that their will be no library this week because it is still a mess from textbook distribution. So I quickly scanned the shelves for a book I could read to the class four students. I knew that there was a classic children's literature section with books like Moby Dick, Great Expectations, etc. I picked up Oliver Twist thinking that this was a great story about overcoming adversity. We walked back to the classroom and I began a dramatic reading of Oliver Twist. As I was reading I realized how wildly inappropriate this book was for the children. Oliver got caught up in a gang that stole things, tried to kill a man, lived in bed surrounded by caskets in an undertakers home! I looked at my watch and time could not have been moving more slowly. tick...tick...tick...The children were all intently listening and I repeatedly had to change the story so that it was more appropriate. The bell rang, phew.

On the first day I had all of my class 4 students write 5 things they were afraid of, 5 things they liked about school, 5 things they did not like about school and 5 things they wanted to learn this year. I wanted to try to get into the children's heads a little. Some of the answers were really interesting. Sarah and I sat around the dinner table that night sharing our student's fear, dreams and interests. One student wanted to learn why we can't see Gods. Some students were afraid of the loud noise that comes from the top of the hill (blasting at the rock quary), slaps from teachers and the darkness. A lot of students do not like the water at school, toilets and broken chairs. It was very interesting to see that a lot of students did not like things they were prohibited from doing. For example: I do not like bad students, I do not like yelling in class, I do not like making my classroom dirty, I do not like to hit other students. It was pretty clear that a lot of the answers weren't coming from what they liked and disliked, but what they were told to like and dislike. The military style discipline at the school is really sucking the creativity out of the students. The next day I went with all the primary teachers and students to practice assembly. The children march in a straigh line while their class captain walks along side them screaming, "left, right, left, right, left, right." They are called to attention, about face, blah blah blah. It was hard to watch the first time. All of these young minds, dressed them same, taught to think the same and act the same. I was five seconds away from run through the lines giving all of the students high fives. I am sure that would not have secured my position as a respectable teacher on the second day of school.

The second day was actually much harder than the first because that was my first time with the class one students, the little ones. A majority of the students speak very little English. The class started well with a story, 'From Head to Toe.' Afterwards, I was hoping that we could identify all of the animals in the book and draw them. I quickly lost control. I tried to regain control by getting the children together to sing and dance to the Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes song. This only escalated the excitement in the room. Before I knew it everyone was asking to go to the bathroom, one kid started crying because I think he did go to the bathroom and time was moving slowly. The children and I somehow made it out of the class alive. This class prepared me for the second class 1 I had at the end of the day. We made it through the story, the song and some kids even drew pictures of animals in the book. One girl stood in the aisle and repeated, "I don't know" for a few minutes and at the end of the glass she ran up to the front of the class and proudly showed me her drawing of a pencil. I'll take a pencil anyday! We are slowly making progress. Slowly slowly we are learning together.

Now I would like to take this opportunity to extend my overwhelming gratitude to every single teacher that I have ever had in my life. Your patience and commitment to educating young people does not go unnoticed or unappreciated. I guarantee it! Now I would like to apologize for sleeping in class, misbehaving in class or talking in class. Thank you! Thank you!

Luckily, Sr. Expedit, the primary school Vice Principal, has taken me under her wing, which is very comforting. There are pictures and more stories to come, but for now I have to jet out in the rain for community night at Sean and Katies. I hope this post finds you all well.
in peace and love,
denise

2007-04-03T22:59:00.000-05:00

Yesterday Sarah, the camp director and I took a group of 32 kids from the camp to the pool. I had no idea what to expect accept that it was called the International Club (it was mostly foreigners and wealthy Nepalis). Five minutes after we had arrived I was in the pool saving a girl from drowning! I think she had slipped in. It was all fun and games after that though. She was very appreciative and thanked me later in the day. I have not gone swimming in such a long time that I had forgotten how great it is! All of the kids wanted us to teach them how to swim and they were determined to learn in 1 hour. There determination was very inspiring. It was a great opportunity for me to spend some time with a few of the boys in my group outside of a competitive/classroom-like atmosphere. It is amazing how different they are when you are alone with them. Once you take the boys away from the herd, they no longer feel the pressure to show off in front of one another. We all had a good time.

After swimming, we bopped around the city picking up "town foods" (only available in the city) and returned to Godavari. Ahh home sweet home. As we were putting the dishes away we heard noise coming from the nearby soccer field. Since we had to run out to pick up vegetables at our favorite downtown (i use that word lightly) Godavari storekeeper we thought we would check out the commotion. As we turned the corner towards the field, we saw three empty buses on the road and the sidelines crowded with deep maroon and orange robes. Monks of all ages were on both side lines, playing and running around. As usual, some were wearing cleats, others in sandals and a few were barefoot. As the sun set behind the mountain, the weather was nearly close to perfect and I couldn't help but soak in everything around me and just be. We sat for about a half an hour and carried on to the store before it got dark.

When we returned home, Sarah started cooking dinner and I was determined to tackle a broken outlet in the kitchen. As I was unscrewing the jacket I casually asked Sarah if she knew CPR. ha. I continued working and then asked her if she was comfortable with what I was doing. ha. Was I even comfortable with what I was doing? The confidence I had to fix the broken outlet was seperate from the lack of confidence I had in my knowledge of electrical wiring. Once I realized that the problem was not visibly clear I thought I would leave it to a professional. Don't worry mama I'm still in one piece!

I look forward to returning to camp today rejuvenated from a light play day yesterday. I think of you all often and throughout my day to day activitites, joys and struggles.

2007-03-28T05:39:00.000-05:00

HOLY MOLY! I have tried so hard to get a picture on the internet and finally!! This is Ratna Park, downtown Kathmandu. Katie and Sean commute in this mess everday to get to their work in Thamel. I am thankful for my five minute walk to school. Things have been a little hectic lately. After the giardia, I was back at the clinic with lice. Trust me, I'll spare you the details. I'll just say it was a growing experience. Sarah and I started coaching at a sports camp at St. Xavier in the city. I am coaching soccer for 8-12 year old boys. So far it has been fun, but challenging because it is pretty difficult to control 22 10-year old boys (keep in mind Sarah and I are the only female coaches in the camp). Luckily the young guys seem to listen to the two older boys who are helping me out. All the boys want to play forward or goalie. There is a variety of different skill levels which makes it difficult to keep all of their attention all of the time. I try to focus a lot on making things fun through competition, races, games, etc. Really all they want to do is scrimmage. I remember thinking that when I was that age as well. This has been the most interaction I have had with younger kids since I've been here, which brought to my attention how much American slang I use everday. It is great preparation for the start of school on April 16th.

I will be teaching Class 4 Science, Class 3 & 4 Library and Class 1 & 2 General Knowledge. Class 3 & 4 Library is a new class so I find myself both excited for the possibilities and anxious because I'm creating everything from scratch. If any of you at home are thinking Book Drive, I think thats a super idea! The library is pretty slim pickings which means another opportunity for me to use my imagination. I brought a few books over from home, but not enough to support the library. I'm going to put all of my creative energy to work to teach the children that reading can be a lot of fun. Think the crazy teacher on Magic School Bus! I'm still not quite sure what General Knowledge is, but I do know I will be with the little ones. At the school picnic, after hearing I was teaching Class 1 & 2, several female teachers said, "you'll have a lot of trouble with class 1. Good luck!" Not as encouraging as I would have hoped, but at least I know what I'm getting into. The younger children don't understand very much English so we might be working on sitting down in chairs for the first week. Who knows?

Chris' mom and godmother came yesterday with all sorts of gifts from our families back home. This included a few boxes of girl scout cookies, which I declared as the ultimate town food. It was great to meet Chris' mother and godmother. I couldn't help but get a wee bit home sick, but it was really comforting to see how happy my communitymate was to see is family. I think we will all really enjoy their visit.

2007-03-14T02:52:00.000-05:00

2007-03-14T02:06:00.000-05:00

Namaste friends and family!

So I'm not writing as frequently as I'd like, but I'm hoping that once school starts and I have a schedule I will update this more often. Unfortunately, it takes a few days to get a picture on the web, but I am still trying. Right now I'm a bit under the weather. Nothing serious, just some stomach problems. It's times like these when I am so grateful for the old western toilet, but until then the hole will have to do. ha! Last Saturday, I went to Boudh with my communitymate, Chris. We went in the morning to a dharma talk at the white monastery. We thought we had missed it, but were just early and ended up setting up pillows around the room. I'm blanking on the monk's name who spoke...something something Rinpoche, but Rinpoche just means teacher in Tibetan. He spoke on the dharma, but what stood out the most was his commentary on how our likes and dislikes can quickly become attachments. We need to let those attachments ago. It is okay to have likes and dislikes, but it is not okay to be attached to these, whether that is an attachment to a material object, a person, an idea, etc. The morning talk provoked several discussions throughout the day.

After visiting with some friends in Boudh we walked around the shops. I went into a tailor to inquire about the price of having a baaku (beautiful, but simple Tibetan dress) made for me. I chatted with the shopkeeper for a bit, but before I knew it I was sitting on the floor chatting with several monks. The older woman who was with them helped me pick out the fabric. I was very excited to be able to understand me and vice versa. It was, as we say, a good Nepali language day. After my purchase we walked on to visit the Boudhnath stupa.

Boudh is the cultural and religious center for Tibetans in Nepal. There are many Tibetan monasteries, shops and food stores. It's kind of like walking into an entirely different city, which I think is great because Tibetans are still preserving their culture which is being destroyed everyday by the Chinese. (Actually, while we were there there was a protest demonstrating against the Chinese occupation, which they call Uprising Days on the Tibetan calendar.) The Boudhnath stupa is the largest stupa in Nepal and one of the largest in the world. It is absolutely beautiful: Tibetan prayer flags from top to bottom, over 400 prayer wheels around the base of the stupa, old Tibetan men and women walking the perimeter of the base sending out prayers with each passing turn of the prayer wheels and people doing prushtrations at the foot of the stupa. I think I may have spelled that wrong, but a prushtration is a Tibetan prayer/practice that is to be done dialy in incriments of 108 (The number 108 is to the Tibetan Buddhism as 40 is to Christianity, they are symbolic numbers.) With your hands in prayer position, you touch your forehead, face and chest then kneel down and straighent your arms to the ground so that your whole body is face down. That is one prushtration. Some people spend hours a day doing prushtrations. The sun was begining to set, which is always the most beautiful time in the city because the pollution is less visible, and I felt I could have sat on the stupa all night. I can see Boudh becoming a frequent stop (although it's not really on the way to anything, I'll just have to make it.)

We walked back home to Katie and Sean's chatting about the day and all the joys and concerns it had presented us with. It was a joy to walk into the kitchen and see that Katie had prepared dal baat, a traditional Nepali meal. All and all the day was full of new faces, new places, new lessons and a new place for reflection. The education is endless...

2007-02-26T03:06:00.000-05:00

Greetings friends and family!
Things are really starting to feel like home here. We have had some pretty amazing community discussions lately! I am still commuting into the city M-F for language classes, which are going well. I've decided that the best form of practice is just to dive in and make a fool out of yourself. So needless to say, I'm getting comfortable with being laughed at. I wanted to share an encounter we had with a woman on the street the other morning.
Katie and I had gone out to meet some people from her work at a school nearby. After a few minutes of discussion, we were getting ready to leave when a woman begging approached our conversation. The woman was dressed and rags and carried an empty cup for donations. She touched her finger to her forehead than knealt down to touch Katie's foot. She then proceeded to do the same with the other Nepali man we were talking to, but before she reached his foot he stopped her and shooed her away. I had never seen this before. As we walked away I asked Katie what had just happened. The woman had touched her forehead, the cleanest and highest part of her body, then touched Katie's foot, the lowest and most "jutto" part of Katie's body. Jutto is a degree of uncleanliness which is sort of hard to explain. I might butcher this story, but the Hindu Creation Myth breaks down the human body according to castes. The head is the Brahmin caste (the highest caste), the arms are the military caste, the legs are the agricultural/farming caste (which carry the society) and the feet are the untouchable caste (the lowest caste). So the woman was showing the absolute highest form of respect, although I don't believe respect is even the right word. In turn she was saying, the highest, most clean part of my body is not worthy of the lowest, most "jutto" part of your body. The entire rest of the day I thought of this woman and what she had done. I was curious of her life. What was the last thing she ate? Where did she sleep last night? Why does she think she is so unworthy of presence? What are her thoughts and concerns throughout the day? It was a truly powerful gesture that is still running though my head. There are a lot of beggers on the streets of Kathmandu and it's never something I get used to, I don't want to. No one should.

2007-02-26T02:57:00.000-05:00

I recently finished reading Confessions of an Economic Hitman. The book is slowly taking or community by storm. It's first on our community book club list. Anyway, in it the author tells the story of the prophecy of the condor and the eagle:
"back in the mists of history, human societies divided and took two different paths: that of the condor (representing the heart, intuitive and mystical) and that of the eagle (representing the brain, rational and material). In the 1490s, the prophecy said, the two pahts would converge and the eagle would drive the condor to the verge of extinction. Then, five hundred years later, in the 1990s, a new epoch would begin, one in which the condor and eagle will have the opportunity to reunite and fly together in the same sky, along the same path. If the condor and eagle accept this opportunity they will create a most remarkable offspring unlike any other seen before...the standard interpretation is that it foretells the sharing of indigenous knowledge with the technology of science, the balancing of ying and yang, and the bridging of northern and southern cultures. However, most powerful is the message it offers about CONCIOUSNESS; it says that we have entered a time when we can benefit fromthe many diverse ways of seeing ourselves and the world, and that we can use these as a springboard to higher levels of awareness. As human beings, we can truly wake up and evolve into a more concious species."

Man oh man! If that doesn't speak to you I don't know what does! I highly suggest reading this book.

2007-01-30T06:33:00.000-05:00

Namaste family and friends!

Sarah and I arrived safely last Sunday afternoon. There was a bund (transportation strike) in the city so it was a little difficult to get cabs, but Katie arrived to pick us up and we began settling into our new home. The first couple of days was sensory overload. The streets of Kathmandu are filled with the most unique smells, noises (every different horn you could imagine), diverse people, buildings, animals...you name it. I still find my eyes darting around when I ride on the micro. The people that we have met have been extremely kind and welcoming.

We are staying at the Jesuit residence this week, and hopefully longer, for language training. We don't start school until the middle of April so we have some time to learn the language and get acclimated. I thought that my time in Africa could have adequately prepared me for such a trip, but I have quickly learned that the best prepartation has been the lessons I have learned throughout my life and the values I was raised on. It's amazing that the country is so different yet some things are constant throughout the world, like home and family. As different as the lanugage, culture, people may be, most of the time at the end of the day they go home. They have sisters, brothers, mothers and fathers. And whatever difference that is apparent to the naked eye is not one I wish to use to seperate one person from the next. When we simplify things to a basic human level it is easier to feel comfortable in any environment. Instead of spending time thinking of differences, dwelling on the similarities is more positive. For example, the Jesuit residence we are staying at is on the St. Xavier Jawalakhel school campus. The sounds of children laughing at recess will never get tired. Laughter is universal and it makes me feel at home. I hope you are all doing well and I keep you in my thoughts and prayers! God bless,

denise (soon to be Dee because everyone in Nepal turns my name into Dinesh)

Pictures are coming soon...stay tuned!

2006-12-27T22:38:00.000-05:00

This Christmas was particulary special since it is the last Christmas I will be spending with my family in a few years. The picture above is my 92-year-old grandmother, Ruth, and myself. My grandfather has not been well lately and was unable to join us for Christmas dinner. It was a difficult Christmas because I said a "final" farewell to my grandmother. She told us that she prays so hard that she will die, but understands that God still has some work for her while she is still here. She prays for this daily. As I gave her a hug goodbye, she looked me straight in the eyes and said, "Denise, this will be the last time you see me on earth." It took me by surprise and was a bit unsetteling, but I hugged her and continue to pray that her prayers are answered and that God will keep them safe from pain. I told her to save me a seat up there.

I hope you all had a great Christmas with family and friends and have a spectacular New Year's.

2006-12-23T12:47:00.000-05:00

Are you your brother’s keeper?

When your mother is my mother, can I call you my sister?
When your father is my father, can I call you my sister?
When we have the same skin, can I call you my sister?
When we live next door, can I call you my sister?
When we eat the same foods, can I call you my sister?
When we have the same income, can I call you my sister?
When we pray to the same God, can I call you my sister?
When we walk in the streets for peace together, then can I call you my sister?
When you are rich and I am poor, will I call you my sister?
Or when I am rich and you are poor, will you call me your sister?
Will we ever be in the same family if all we see or embrace is that which is similar?

I will never claim to know what it’s like to walk in your footsteps, as I expect you should not do the same to me. As I acknowledge this, with the optimism that I try to bring to every encounter with every human being, I wish you would keep your eyes and ears closed and your mind open. Listen to your heart. Listen to God. Listen to the words that you value to be true. If we could only listen to each other, shut out the pollution that invades the clarity between mind and spirit, open our ears to the words of our brother, than maybe we can truly learn from one another and build a greater community together. A community that values the needs of its people, all people, the disadvantaged, the poor in spirit, the broken hearted, the downtrodden, the mentally ill, the sick, the elderly and our children. Our children are our future. They are the light, but as they hold the opportunity to brighten our future, we each hold a light within ourselves. Change does not only occur through our youth. We are never too old or young to bring about change. How will you treat your neighbor today? How will you treat the beggar selling flowers? How will you treat the lost stranger? Our everyday encounters, our routines, however monotonous they may be, it is life. The beauty of free will is that we can interpret each day differently than the last and the next. That is why we are unique and beautiful people. Individuality can be beautiful, but you will always be my brother. Whatever your skin color, economic status, religion, family, culture or inheritance, you will always be my brother. Even when you do not want me to be your sister, because that may be when you need family the most. I will not kill you with kindness. If you fall, I will give you my hand. If you do not take it, it will still be there, even after you say no one hundred times. My hand will be chapped, bleeding and cold, but it will always embrace the warmth of another. The human touch is more comforting than any prescription any doctor could offer. The human touch is a compassionate energy. Even after you spit at my, quite possible, ignorance of your circumstances, i will offer you a hand.

2006-12-23T11:44:00.000-05:00

The black and blue discoloration or disfiguration on your skin is visually disturbing to the intrusive pair of paralyzed eyes behind you. As they can’t help but pull their pupils from this painful contusion on your flawless body, they also wonder who or what was responsible for its creation. They’ll creatively play through images in their head that bring judgment to who you are as a human being. At what point is it that they stray from the entertainment of creating a story and wonder how painful the distortion is to the person that suffers with the ironic beauty of black and blue? The blackness of the nights sky and the crystal blue of the endless ocean have never been so beautiful, but put the two colors together on a painter’s palette and punch the indentation onto a form and it becomes ugly, dark and angry. The journey behind the pain that you live more than mildly contradicts the enjoyment that we took in making ourselves feel better with your discomfort. If we make up a story or write lyrics to the song of your pain, than maybe we will sleep better tonight. But at the end of the night, or the beginning of your sleepless morning, the story and song are inanimate and your pain is more real than the breath I take as I write down these words. The management of pain. Pain management are words that make it seem that it can be managed, as if it is not alive, and its movements are not as unpredictable as a child’s cry in church. Both are unsettling to our eyes and ears. The selfishness is in thinking of it as an imperfection, a visual disturbance, an eye sore or a pungent odor that interrupts your crisp autumn day. So place the damaged doll easily back into its case while you wait for the next opportunity to place judgment or put words to a living emotion that you hide so well while they embrace it so effortless. It is in suffering that we live and in hiding that we slowly die…

2006-12-04T00:07:00.000-05:00

I am thankful to have people in my life that support and love me. It's difficult for me to understand why we can't just accept and love each other as human beings without cause or reason. But alas, we have far to walk...together. It is challenging for us to accept the fact that we are already accepted. I encourage you to continue passing your love and hope to people everyday. Slowly, person by person the world will realize that peace is the only way. As we embark on this Christmas season think of yourself as a member of the human race, which is interconnected through language, skin color, religion, but most importantly through the love for your neighbor. Drop the I and adopt the We. I believe that peace and a better way is possible. I believe this with all my heart and every fiber of my being...

2006-11-25T09:07:00.000-05:00

Lost in a sea of shoppers, yesterday was the first time I felt like a foreigner in my own country or at least recognized it. Black Friday, the biggest shopping day of the year. Thanksgiving afternoon, we heard of news reports that 166 Iraqis were killed by suicide car bombs. A wedding had just let out in a Sunni community and the wedding attendees were dispersing into the streets in celebration and joy. Night and day. Tunnel vision. People see and hear what they want to hear.

All things are possible through God. It is in this that I am hopeful for the future of this world, of this country or of the human race. I am saddened by the juxtaposition I mentioned above.

Pray for peace. Pray for love and pray for hope.

How to make the perfect Christmas dinner after this story...Yesterday 166 Sunnis were killed after a suicide car bomb drove into a building...pray for peace. pray for love. pray for hope. All things are possible through God.

2006-10-14T07:32:00.000-05:00

The Innocence or Ignorance of Fall
What is it about fall that makes me want to run out and bury myself in a pile of leaves, eat candy apples and buy a pumpkin? There is a very familiar feeling in fall; it is wear I hold and cherish a majority of my childhood memories. It is as comfortable as a warm blanket on a crisp autumn night. Whether it was my mom making us homemade halloween costumes or playing soccer in high school, the beautiful smells of fall trigger some of the best memories of my life. However, why is it that we so often want to recreate memories that are so dear to us, knowing that that will only tarnish the originality of those precious times? I will never be 8 years old again, running with my sister into a giant pile of leaves, that would later be placed into large tacky halloween trash bags. Do we want to do these things again? Sometimes I think it is greater to have these memories stored, than to try to recreate them. The sequals are never as good as the originals anyway. (Godfather II and X-Men II are a few rare exceptions.) Part of our difficulty is letting go of the familiar and accepting change because we want that comfort. Discomfort is something that does not settle well with us.
As I try to "sit with" whatever discomforts I come across, I think of those childhood days and thank God that I had a family and an environment that allowed me to enjoy those days so innocently. Every child deserves to be playful and innnocent, even if only for a few days. Every child deserves a meal, clean water and a good nights sleep. At what point did someone decide that this innocence was not as important as gas prices or the new sex scandal in the Senate? I must have missed that vote, but please let us revisit the matter.

2006-10-03T05:20:00.000-05:00

There are a lot of things in this world that I don't understand. I don't understand war. I will never know what it is like to be poor. I will never know what it's like to lose a parent, or both parents at a young age. I almost never missed a meal growing up and there was always a glass of milk in the refrigerator if I wanted one.

I don't understand war and I do not pretend to. I am fascinated by stories from soldiers who have returned. I want to learn everything about the experience. It's almost as if I want to be inside the experience, soak up as much information as I can, from every angle, so that maybe, sometime in the future, I may have the resources or tools to prevent it. I know most of you are thinking, "wishful thinking lady. Get your head out of the clouds." And to an extent your right. It is important to stay grounded, or somewhat in touch with reality. At the same time, isn't it when we aren't "in touch with reality" or confined by boundaries, that our imaginations allow us to create unconventional solutions to problems that seem so standard and clear. The road less traveled is less traveled because it is rocky and steep and there are no water stops. It is uncomfortable and at times extremely difficult. So when we look down the number of paths that lay in front of us, most of the time we tend to choose the paved road with the cheering section.

These days I am frequently reminded of a line from a poem that I encountered at the JVI orientation back in July (I say 'back in July' because it helps me think that time has really moved and at some point I really am going to Nepal). It reads, "I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fix it, or fade it." Patience has always been a struggle for me. I can't help but think this time, between orientation and when I leave, is the best lesson on patience and the most difficult part is just "sitting with it." It is uncomfortable for people, including myself, especially myself, to just sit with whatever desolation, fear or anxiety that I am feeling. The more I practice this patience, the easier this may become or the better I will handle "sitting with it." Or maybe it will always be difficult, but it is how I handle these feelings that will truly be a testament to the patience learned.

I started writing this blog this morning because I woke up sad. Yesterday, as many of you heard on the news, a man went into an Amish school just North in Pennsylvania and opened fire on a dozen young girls. I do not understand this. I will never understand this. Was this the path with the cheering section? Was this his easy road? When will we start encouraging each other to take the rocky cliff, instead of the smooth grassy path filled with everything and anything we can find to cover up that pain that we don't want to sit with. The rocky cliff may be scary, hell it is scary. It will be difficult. It will be hard and I almost always gaurantee you that there will be times when you want to throw in the rag and parasail down to the smooth ride...but always know that there are others who chose the path less travelled. It helps me sometimes.

2006-09-13T21:15:00.000-05:00

A rabbi, a priest, a monk walk into a bar...
This looks like the begining of a joke, right? Or does it look that way because it is unfamiliar to us? On Sunday, September 10th, I participated in the 9/11 Interfaith Unity Walk on Embassy Rowe. There were people from all different religions, cultures and races present. We stopped several times along the walk at the National Cathedral, the Washington Hewbrew Congregation, the Islamic Center and the Gandhi Memorial in front of the Indian Embassy. There were several notable speakers throughout the day; but I couldn't help but notice the same, although positive, themes. We must listen and learn from one another in order to better communicate and understand each other. This was repeated by all the speakers, but with different styles and tones. Don't get me wrong, this is all very true. And I appreciated all of their sentiments as I am sure they were genuine. I guess I was expecting some revolutionary speaker to turn the hearts of everyone in the crowd so much so that we each jumped to our feet to carry those words out to the rest of the world. (I know my imagination is more than overactive.) Not even the revolutionary speech, but I guess I wanted something concrete to hold on to. ("I'm working on it".) Lodi Gyari, Special Envoy to his Holiness the Dalai Lama, spoke at the last stop in front of the Gandhi Memorial. In his speech he said, "Religion is good, but if you aren't bringing us together, than at least stop tearing us apart." So simple, not deeply profound and not even all that concrete. I was looking for the "I had a dream..." when those quiet words, barely heard over the Wisconsin Avenue traffic, struck me. He went on to discuss the awesome responsiblity that rests in the hands of our religious leaders today; a responsibility greater than the politicians. I'm not advocating for anarchy, but I believe that great leadership is recognizing that no one party, religion, or country has it right. We will never be the same identity, but we are all members of the human race and with that comes a sense of belonging to one another, something I rarely find in international politics.
All and all, I met a lot of new people and shared some great conversations. It was a good good day.

2006-09-04T15:59:00.000-05:00

Two Heads are Better than One

Before I left on my first mission trip to Zimbabwe several members of the congregation and our families wrote devotions for us to reflect upon throughout our time in Zimbabwe. My dad wrote one that stays with me when I am weary and lacking faith...

"When we are confronted by poverty and social injustice it is easy to say how can God let this happen? The truth is poverty and social injustice are within our collective powers to abolish. God gave us free wills and collectively we choose to or not to solve the problems of poverty. We choose to or not to work for social justice. We choose to or not to love our neighbor as ourselves. Despite humanities failing to care for all of our brothers and sisters, God works through every situation for his purposes. Leaders may oppress, but the Spirit of the Living God brings liberation. Long before we arrive in a place, the Holy Spirit of God goes before us to prepare the work of the Lord. If we have eyes to see, we will find the signs of his presence waiting for us. The coincidences are not random, but are the Sprit of God working for God's Holy purposes."

I sometimes get overwhelmed with injustice in our world. I think how can I change this? I am only one person. It can be paralyzing, if you let it. However, I do find great comfort in knowing that we are all in this together. The difficulties, obstacles and mountains we climb will be as present in our lives as they will in others. It is a struggle that we must face together...whoever said two heads are better than one was on to something.