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The time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many things, of what we've done and how it's gone, of Noddy, dust and slings.
Firstly, we never want to see another Noddy jigsaw but it does epitomise what we feel we've achieved. And we do feel we've achieved a lot and our work at DNC has been very worthwhile. We started by just following what the younger children wanted to do but progressed to identifying how we could help them. So the younger children have been helped, we hope, with games, jigsaws, etc. that have improved their English, their concentration and their manual dexterity. Older children have been helped with homework and simply by talking to them, and we've had some serious conversations with some of the older ones. To all of them we hope we've given attention and affection which, in the hurley burley of DNC life, and in their personal lives are rare commodities. Our help has moved in stages as we've grown to know each child well and perhaps the next stage would have been to pick out individual children for help with their English. We can think of at least three ideal candidates. But we'll have to leave that to a new volunteer and to the group of social studies students who will now be coming to help every Thursday and Friday and to whom we will pass the baton. Downsides? None worthy of a mention here. The children are amazing, especially considering their background, environment and disabilities. They are good natured and happy and they tackle their lives with fortitude and good humour. We shall miss them all a lot.
Secondly, the dust is better now as it's rained a bit but Kathmandu is a place where we never feel clean and dust will be an abiding memory. We only have to look at the silt left round the bottom of the shower. What were interesting new experiences; the roads, manic driving and daily journey to DNC, the smells, the rubbish, the jostling crowds and street sellers, etc. have, after nine weeks, become not funny any more. Perhaps that's an indictment of us who can easily fly away. But there is still plenty to amuse us in the incorrectly spelt signs, the misunderstandings over ordering simple things (cake!) and the good company of friends we've made here. We have our haven of civilisation in our Holy Himalaya Hotel and, of course, outside Kathmandu, Nepal is a totally different country that we've not seen enough of. The Nepali people are lovely, happy and polite but Kath and I, as Westerners, despair for them at what seems their defeatist attitude of "Nothing can be done, so nothing is done". Why does a shopkeeper sit, doing nothing, and look at the filth and rubbish outside his shop rather than clear it up, or allow a lorry load of gravel to be tipped across the entrance to his shop and still calmly sit there waiting for his customers to climb over it? How come the Ministry of Roads can't complete the major road widening past DNC because the Electricity Board won't get round to moving their poles 4 - 5 feet out to the new edge of the road? Every job is completed to 80% and most things don't work properly or on time. This is all the charm of Nepal. Everywhere has its downsides and this is a small part of a great nine weeks.
And, thirdly, we've risked life and limb on one of the world's most dangerous highways only for Kath to fall and break her wrist climbing up the bank from a crocodile infested river. Hence the sling. We've really enjoyed our visits to the main tourist spots and regret we haven't been more adventurous and gone to some more remote parts. What little we've seen of Nepal outside Kathmandu is magnificent, beautiful, fresh and clean. You should come.
We must also say that our trip has been a bit of a mind broadening experience particularly in respect of how other people live. In respect only of all we've learnt about disabled children we could just touch on this by saying,
Never underestimate anybody, and
Everybody has talents and can do something well if given the opportunity and encouragement.
Being immersed as a visitor and tourist in such totally different lives and culture has made us into philosophers. We've had discussions in buses and over meals with such a wide variety of people so, for light relief in this monster blog, here are some fun and profound exam questions for you based on just a few of the things we've been told or have read.
1. "What is better, that the children should live in squalid conditions with no hope for the future or that the children should be given hopes through motivation and education and half of them have their hopes dashed?" Discuss.
2. "All life is sorrow. All sorrow comes from desire". Discuss.
3. "Nepal is a beautiful country. Everything ugly in it is created by humans". Discuss.
4. "Nepal's problems derive from it never having been a British colony. It has never had railways, a road network, early education or democratic structure of government. Now it is backward because it lacks political and economic infrastructure and stable government, unlike India, Pakistan, etc". Discuss.
Probably we'll be better able to assess the effectiveness of our work in a month or two's time rather than in the intensity of the last day but the blog must be closed now. It's run its course and over the last couple of days we've put together the thoughts above which may or may not interest you. A blog has always seemed a rather ostentatious thing to do and I'm sure that you, Dear Reader, have long ago lost interest in our goings on as you've gone about your own busy life but we felt that there should be an assessment and winding up and that was it. So on to the leaving party!
We bought a big chocolate cake which the children shared at snack time at about 3pm. Snack was boiled flaked rice in milk. A cake is a real treat and the ceremony of cutting it enjoyed by everybody, all of whom waited patiently for their piece. I think, perhaps, some of the newer children had never seen or tasted a cake before. Despite the need for exam revision the atmosphere was one of great jollity after snack and cake. Many of the children presented us with leaving cards that they had made themselves with fantastic drawings and lovely words thanking us and saying how much they'd miss us. Many wanted their photo taken with us. It was all very touching. At 6pm everybody was gathered together for the big leaving photo on the entrance steps and then in to daal bhaat, the traditional Nepali meal of rice, vegetables and pickles, for which we had also provided for chicken, 5kg of which had been bought from the local 'chicken shop'. The plan then was to have an English fruit salad, an enormous bowl of which Kath and I had made earlier with melon, papaya, pineapple, apples, oranges, bananas and grapes. But most of the children, those who had not heard the rumour of something special being prepared, left after the daal bhaat and had to be called back. Having regathered a rather chaotic horde I presented Shanti, the house mother, with a bunch of carnations to stress to all the children how much she does for them and how much they should appreciate her. With a translator to make sure my message was understood I also said how lovely they all were and how sad we were to leave. Then the enormous bowl of fruit salad was served out and not a single piece remained - nothing of anything ever seems to be left over. The time had come to leave but Kathie and I were not going to get away that easily. There was a commotion on the entrance steps and everybody was gathering there. We dragged a couple of the immobile ones who'd lost their wheelchair and walker out there on ordinary chairs. We were sat down and, in true Nepali fashion, everybody smeared tika on our foreheads and draped scarves round our necks. The girls wanted a kiss (or was it that I wanted to kiss the girls?) and the boys wanted a hug. Men hugging and kissing each other is normal in Nepal. In the throng I couldn't see what was happening to Kath except that the children were unsuccessfully trying to force 20 bangles over her western size hand. They even got soap to try and force them on. We were given several really nice presents but, at that stage, weren't sure who they were from. Photographs were being taken but we were so covered with children that we couldn't see the cameras so now presume that, when we see the photos, we won't be in them. After what must have been half an hour we squeezed into Krishna's tiny taxi and with much cheering, shouting and running about, we disappeared into the night.
So it's back to the predictable society of Berkhamsted where the headlines in the local rag may read, "Old lady loses purse", or "Schoolchildren plant vegetable garden". Come on, Dear Reader, buy a flight ticket to Nepal.
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Finally a prayer and a tear for Bujana. Attempts to build up her strength so she can undergo an operation to straighten her spine, which has affected her lungs and heart, may have failed. She is on a ventilator in intensive care in a main hospital in Kathmandu. At last her parents who live in the extreme remote NW of Nepal have been contacted and her brother is on his way. When you put your arm round her she is just skin and bone supported by some steel framework under her blouse. In extreme adversity Bujana always has a smile. She was determined to continue her school work. Some taxis refused to take her and it's unbelievable that because she was taking exams and had to be at school on time and couldn't walk that far she was sometimes taken to school on the back of a motorbike. She'd be left alone at school until transport could be found to collect her and, on getting back after the stress of the exams, she'd immediately collapse on her bed in a deep sleep. The exhaustion caused by her determination to carry on has brought on pneumonia. She's 14. She may not come back. It's so very sad that such a placid, brave and beautiful girl should come to this. Oh, the very harsh realities of a disabled life in Nepal.
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