Namste, Namaste,
Happy New Year, Happy Valentine’s Day, Happy Maha Shiva Ratri Day, Happy National Democracy Day, blah blah blah. Happy Superbowl, Happy Iowa Primary’s.
Haven’t written in a while. I know some of these get long, and probably pretty tedious to get through, but I guess read what you can when you can. I try and write them in smaller intervals, so they’d be shorter, but we’ve all been really busy here and I just haven’t gotten around to it. The longer I wait, the more I dread it writing these because I know they’ll just keep getting longer and longer. Ughhh. But, I think there has been a lot happening that’s worth writing about. So, with ought further a hair-do…
Had a good New Years celebrating at one of our teacher’s houses. Earlier in the day our language teacher had us over for lunch, so the day was pretty much packed. Nepal is on a different calendar than we are, the lunar, so their New Year isn’t until sometime in April. It’s actually 2060 here now, so some might say I’m time traveling. Let me tell you, the future is incredible. Many Nepali’s run by the solar calendar as well (ask someone the date and they ask you which one) so it was nice to have people to celebrate such a big holiday with.
Rabin, Subherna, Bicky and I ended up leaving late for India because there was a Bandh in one of the districts we had to pass through. I think we left on the 4th, as opposed to the 2nd. Anyways, we left on the day after, but the problem was that so did everyone else. For the first 5-6 hours outside of the valley, it was 20 meters, stop for 15 minutes, 20 meters, stop for 20 minutes. It was horrible, on top of the fact that Subherna and I were sitting in the very front, and these buses aren’t made for American legs. I was kind of sick on top of it all, so I was going in and out of sleep for most of it. It was all still very annoying though. After about 10pm things broke up, and we were able to blaze down the road. The bus kept driving through the night as everyone slept. There were times when I would wake up with a cloudy head and look out the front window to see these headlights shining through dust, black all around, and hearing the bus squeak and bend and shake, and it was probably the first time that I ever felt like maybe we were going straight to hell. Sleeping was easier than watching the bus take corners at ridiculous speeds or passing other buses on the opposite side of the road around blind corners, so I opted to pass out.
The last thing I remembered was seeing an open road, no one in front, but when I woke up at 7 the next morning, we were at a standstill, in the middle of a traffic jam 100’s of cars long. Trucks and buses were stopped as far as you could see in front, and in back. Apparently we had entered the Chitwan District, and were stopped because of a curfew. We had to wait about an hour more, so we just hung out on the road, waiting for time to pass. As the hour was winding down, people started talking in a way that, although you couldn’t understand the words, you could tell that something important was being spoken of. I followed the crowds and my friends back in the bus, where we all just say and waited. I didn’t really know what for. But a few minutes later these army trucks came rolling down the side of the road, one by one. Giant armored vehicles with gunsmen sitting in the top, trucks with loads of men standing in the back, dressed in their fatigues, holding their guns. As a few trucks passed, I began to notice bullet holes in the sides, or in the front windows. It was all kind of odd, and the silence that came over our bus agreed. We all just watched each truck go by, and hoping that when the last one did we’d be able to get a move on ourselves. About ten minutes later though, and about 100 meters behind us, gunshots started to ring and Subherna told me that Maoists were on the hills on both sides of the river, and were ambushing the army. It was pretty surreal to hear the shots; I’ve heard them before, but the target was usually paper, not young men. I was actually able to record the audio from it on my camera, and it’s weird to listen to. The shots were still being exchanged as our bus’ engine started. We left before the fighting ended. According to the radio later that day, no one had died during that scuffle. A little ways up the road, we came across a bus that had been burnt out. It was full of army men at one point, but apparently the Maoists had ambushed that too. You could still see fresh blood around the bus.
When we finally made it to our lunch stop, Rabin informed me that the 21 hours that we had been driving should have only taken 3. By the time we got to the border town of Kakarvita, we had spent two nights on the bus and 38 hours. It sucked. There’s no other word for it. It sucked bad. We crossed the border, and I got check into India in the early morning, and we proceeded to 
Kalimpong. You have to take a Jeep up because it sits high on a hill the roads are really steep. It was an incredible ride, going up, and up, and up, through the jungle. We’d come to these clearings and out to our left would be a new range of Himals which I’d never seen. So we spent two nights in Kalimpong. That whole area actually used to be Nepal until India took it and gave Nepal the Malaria infested Terrai, so everyone there speaks Nepali, and it’s a lot more Nepali feeling than Indian. Many teachers at our school are from Kalimpong, so we were able to bounce around to people’s houses everyone was more then willing to take us around to the places of interest. Had a great time there. Clean, great views.
Two days later we took off for Darjeeling. Got another Jeep, went down one hill and back up another, beautiful again. Darjeeling is pretty similar to Kalimpong, but it’s a little dirtier and more congested. Some of the most popular tea in the world comes from Darjeeling, and I found out why. Apparently tea plants like water, and need water (go figure), but they can’t have it sit on the leaves. 
They can’t be drenched in it. So the 7,000 foot slopes provide this perfect geography, because it rains, water hits, and runs right down the hill. That mixed with the moderate climate leaves us sitting in our favorite Coffee Bean or Starbucks saying “mmmmmm.”
Every hill that’s not covered by a house is covered with tea plants. They look like little trunks with flat tops, as if 100’s of thousands of Will Smiths circa 1994 came and sat down on the hill. Beautiful. The first night in Darjeeling we stayed in some church basement, and it was, well, a church basement. I think it’s a requirement that all church basements, in order to be recognized as an 
official church basement, must meet the requirements of being dingy, dirty, dark, and smell like garbage. This basement was no exception. But it was free, we coped. This was on the outskirts of town though, near one of the most prestigious schools in India, run by the Jesuits, so the next night we opted for a hotel room in town. The hot water, carpet, and TV were definite upgrades to the night before. And Superman was on that night. Another point for the hotel room. Our last day in Darjeeling we woke up at 3 or so and took the 7 point tour. It’s a tour of well, 7 places around Darjeeling that the tourism board has set up, probably so people won’t have to ask about what there is to do. The first point was Tiger Hill to watch the sunrise. Man it was cold. The sunrise was great and all, but the best part was watching the Himals turn pink and orange as the first rays of sun hit them. It was so incredible. I also 
saw Everest from Tiger Hill, although it was probably the most unimpressive sight from our vantage point. You could just barely see it peeking up over the hill in the foreground. It was cool to see nonetheless. Now I can say I’ve climbed it. The other points were a monastery, a rock garden, waterfalls, the zoo, Himlayan Mountaineering Institute, and something else that I can’t remember. Oh yeah, a Gorkha memorial. Gorkhas are Nepali soldiers that are some of the most well respected soldiers in the world. Britian and India, as well as some other countries, actually have their own Gorkha armies. Nepali’s are hired by other countries to fight for that country. There’s Gorkha’s in Iraq right now. And the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute was actually started by Tenzing Norgay, the first Nepali to summit Everest. It was pretty interesting and had a lot of history about the climbing in this region. Norgay’s “Place of Rest” (he was cremated, most Hindus and 
Buddhists are) was there too, but it was quite unimpressive. You’d think they’d pick the weeds around the most popular Nepali in the world. Anyways, Darjeeling was great, India was great, and we drank a lot of tea. A lot. No, I mean it, a lot. It was so good.
After India we went and visited the Jesuit School’s in the Jhapa District. We stayed with the priests there. Part of the Jhapa district falls into the Terrrai region of Nepal, which is the agricultural flat land. No mountains in sight, just flat. Forever. It was so incredible, and was actually the Nepal I had been waiting to see. Things seemed drastically different than they way things work here in Godavari and especially Kathmandu. At one point, while driving to the main part of town, Subherna leaned over and said “This is the real Nepal. Now you are seeing the real Nepal. Kathmandu is just a copy of other cities, but this is Nepal.” I think I felt that before he put words behind it, but he was definitely right. There were more bicycles, less cars, more rick shaws, less road. The clothing was different, the people looked different. The terrain was worlds apart. When Subherna had said that thing about the real Nepal, we were actually driving to town so one of the priests could get his computer looked at. It was going to take about 4 hours, so the three of us (minus Rabin) walked around and killed time. We found a place with a pool table, and played a couple games there. Some dude sitting up against the wall on a bar stool thought it was his duty to call all of our fouls, and that really pissed me off. I thought it was funny how angry he made me just by saying “foul,” “foul,” “foul.” I was glad when he left. He really hindered my game. Kidding, I don’t have a pool game. But apparently Bicky doesn’t either, and I won 4 bags of cheese balls. Ok, but pool and cheese balls wasn’t the point of my story. The point was, when we went back to check up on the computer, to see when we’d be leaving, Subherna found out that the Jesuits had bought a name brand computer here, from a Nepali company, but it was loaded with junk parts. Like buying a Dell loaded with flea market parts. The computer wasn’t ready yet, so we found a place to eat the cheese balls, and Subherna turns to me, and says “This is the Nepal. What to do?” He was angry at the computer situation and how you can’t trust anyone here, no company, no organization. I thought that was a sharp contrast to the comment he had made only hours before, and it kind of seems like that’s exactly the problem with this country right now. So much culture to offer, so much variety, so much incredible land and terrain and animals and possibilities, but all hindered by the selfish motives and blatantly corrupt individuals and organizations that have the ability to actually do some good for their people. What a crappy situation to be in.
So our bus ride home was a lot better, and it only took about 15 hours. And that’s because we got in two accidents on the way back. Man, it was nuts. These drivers are ridiculous here. They blaze down these roads, but they’re not highways, they’re village roads, with people and children and houses 10 feet from the asphalt. Their hand is on the horn probably 90% of the time, and they stop of slow down for almost no one. At one army check post, we were all getting our things out of the top, because you have to get out of the bus and walk to another point, while an army dude checks the bus. I was standing up, trying to dislodge my bag, and all of a sudden I heard this huge crash and was thrown forward. If I hadn’t grabbed on to the seat, I would have flown about 5 rows up. Instead my hip slammed back into the armrest of my seat, and the first thought I had was “holy crap, was that a bomb?” That’s a pretty weird first thought to have. It wasn’t though. Apparently in the thick fog, another bus didn’t see ours parked, and just came rolling right into the back. All of the back windows blew out, and for the rest of the ride home, whenever we’d be traveling on a dirt road, and if the sunlight was just right, you could see the dirt and dust traveling from the back to the front. I was a lot less than clean when we got back into Kathmandu.
So that was India, good times. We started school a week early because of the bandh’s before the winter break Just finished our midterms and the science fair, and have been dealing with the current round or bandh’s. We’ve had three bandh days in the past few weeks, this coming Tuesday is a bandh, and then there is a 5 day at the end of February. Sometimes people don’t know who is calling them or what they’re for, but some of my friends joke around that all they’d have to do is get 10 people together, call a bandh, and the whole country would stop for the day.
If you remember from the last email I sent, how I was walking through all of those student protests…well, that situation is continuing. There have been arrests, which make the student wings unhappy. There have been unnecessary beatings which make the student wings unhappy. The police used fire hoses one day, and that made the student wings unhappy. And what’s the result? More bandhs. There was going to be a bandh on a Monday, (during Superbowl Sunday, given time differences), so on my Sunday afternoon I went into town to stay, so that the next morning I could be there to videotape and take pictures of the protest. On a bandh day, no vehicles move, so I was going to be there until Tuesday, and I planned on getting a cheap hotel room. After walking around the city and filming life as normal, videotaping cops yawning and resting against posts, talking with their friends, traffic moving smoothly, I checked my email before getting the room in Thamel. Two of my friends here 
(brother/sister) came on to Instant Messenger and, long email short, invited me to their house. So I went there instead, stayed with them for two nights, and had a great time. It’s an awesome experience being with a Nepali family and doing everything like they do. Just being with them and going with their schedule, watching their Hindi serials (that’s what they call TV programs here) with them, eating their food, with my hands, on their floor...it’s so awesome.
Anyways, the next day, Monday, about the time when Janet Jackson was exposing her breast in front of 80 million viewers in hopes that people would start talking about her again and then buy her albums, Surrendra (the youngest brother) and I went into town at around 9am and just walked around. On bandh days, ric-shaw drivers and kids on rollerskates and skateboards rule the road. Sidewalk merchants are still open for business, but regular shops are all closed. It was a giant Muslim holiday that day as well, so hundreds of Muslims were in the middle of the road doing their signature triple hug, and smiling and being happy. I think it was the equivalent of their Christmas. A big day nonetheless. What a good day to have a bandh on. (by the way, in case you forget from a past email, bandh (bund) means close, and that’s exactly what happens) About 2pm, after 5 hours of just sitting and walking, red flags began to congregate at an intersection, and people followed. Surrendra and I waited for a bit, then walked over. I got my cameras out, wrapped them securely around my forearms, and began shooting. A few minutes later the Nepali Congress Party’s flag arrived, and the call and response yelling began. They began walking in a procession, one guy yelling, and the rest repeating. While showing the video later that night to the family I was staying with, I learned that they were saying Gyani (short form, extremely low form of the Kings name Gyanendra, a huge slap in the face) thief, leave the country. 
The procession winded through the back alleys and streets of Indra Chowk, and led itself to one of the main statues before Kathamndu Durbar Square, the ancient capital of Kathamandu. The leaders of the parties got up on the statue, and everyone gathered below, to listen intently to what these few men had to say. There were cops all around, but it was very peaceful. I was up on the statue filming the crowd and the speakers. In such an intense situation, it was great to look down towards a Nepali and have them smile at me. I never once felt unwelcomed. I tried to talk to people and ask them questions, ask them permission to record them. Everyone was great. Pissed at the government but warm towards me. And I wasn’t the only photographer, or white person there.
So after the speeches, they took off back down the road, chanting again, and came to the main road that would lead them back to their starting point. Things were very peaceful, and I was actually filming a man while we were both asking each other how we were doing, and then the crowd suddenly turned around and started running. I looked over the crowd and saw all of these blue clothed riot cops charging with their lathi (bamboo) sticks. Everyone was hopping the rails and finding places to run. One man was carrying his flag, running with everything he had, but the cops’ 5 foot lathi reach made up for the distance that the feet couldn’t cover, and the man soon toppled upon himself on the pavement. The cop left for another crowd, but another pack of cops came for seconds, and by the time they left and the man stood up, he was stumbling and spitting blood. His friends rushed over, got him in piggyback position, wrapped the flag around him, and ran him off.
After that settled, the protesters again congregated and sat in the middle of the road, and continued the yelling. I stayed my distance at first, very cautious, until I realized that camera men, and
white camera men at that, were basically given free reign on the street. There were times when I’d be standing next to cops, or a cop would run right by me. Not once did any man (there were no women) look at me with an eye of hate or disgust. I was basically a ghost. I’m not government, and I’m not someone trying to overthrow the government. A few minutes after the crowd had assembled in the street, two riot vans pulled up, and all these cops began to pour out, lathi’s in hand, and just started slicing through the crowd. People were being stretched like taffy as their friends tried to hold on while the cops tried to push them into the vans. The crowd again was scattered, everyone ran into the giant field that bordered the road. That’s when the bricks and stones started flying. But then cops rushed the field, and everyone soon dispersed. That was pretty much the end of the rally, as all the protesters had been divided. A guy from the UK came up to me and handed me his card, looking for footage, and I thought it was a weird time to be passing out business cards.
During all that activity, while watching the man get beat down, or the cops whack through crowds, I instinctively thought that the protesters must have done something to instigate it. Later though, after thinking about it and putting pieces back together, I realized that all the protesters were doing was marching, chanting. Nothing was violent until the cops charged, unnecessarily. The bricks didn’t come until after the blows did. The blood didn’t come until the cops used force. Later that week, I found out that Amnesty International is starting to build cases for Human Rights Violations by the Government, and also the Maoists. Another thing that I found interesting was how both sides were using the media to their advantage. After the first flag carrying man got beat down, his friends didn’t take him off the road until all the camera men around could snap a shot or two off. And after one of the cops was hit in the face with a stone, he didn’t leave until he and his commander got their photo op in.
Now these student protests (not all are students, but some adults enroll to be able to form a group) aren’t affiliated with the Maoists. The Maoists have their own slough of atrocities, but none of that really happens in Kathmandu. If this email isn’t long enough, and you want to read more, go to : and read the main article, but also and links on the side. They have all of the articles about Nepal printed from the past 3 years or so. Interesting. Be warned though, there is some slant. The main interview with the King sets him up as a “Woe is me, I didn’t want the throne,” and I know that has angered a lot of Nepali’s here.
Well, that’s about it. Our school calendar just got pushed back two weeks due to all of the bandhs. We’re missing a lot of school. The original calendar has 176 days of school, but this year we’ll just make 150 I think. One of my friends had an assignment to do for her Masters in Teaching class, and asked me some questions about education here. If you want to read it, I’ve pasted it below.
Alrighty, talk to you when I talk to you,
Love Kevin
1) Is Education free?
According to the Populations and Environment Book that I teach out of, primary education is free and secondary education is going to be free. About 90,000 teachers’ salaries are paid by HMG (His Majesty’s Government). What I found out last night though is that it’s not really free. The children still have to pay for copies, materials, testing fees, uniforms, and other fees with the exception of tuition fees. My friend told me last night that all those little fees added together come to about RS 2000 a year (about US $30). That’s a lot for many families. Private education is obviously not free, but it depends on the schools. As for the Jesuit group of schools here, the fee is dependant upon the location and the surrounding community. St. Xavier’s Jawalakhel, in the city, has the highest tuition fees out of the four schools, and rightly so. City kids go there, and are able to afford more. Now Fr. Moran Memorial, in the Terrai, has a fee of about RS 25, because the community they serve is extremely poor. There are some private schools that charge a lot though, and are known as the elite. I know all of our schools have financial aid programs; our school even runs on a deficit because we’ve taken so many scholarship kids.
2) Public vs Private. What is the view?
Well, I think Private has a better reputation, at least for the elementary schools. I know St. Xavier’s has an incredible presence here, and has done a lot of good over the past 50 some years. Anywhere I go, almost all over Nepal, people treat me differently when they hear that I work for St. Xavier’s. It’s a name that everyone knows and respects. You can show your card and get discounts to places, get into to places free. The name was even respected when I was in India. I’m not too sure about public though, since I haven’t had much time with those schools. One of the first things I learned though, when I was driving up to Godavari for the first time, was that education here is often viewed as a money making business, with the children’s needs falling short to the Rupee. Changing the education system was actually one of the first things the Maoists wanted to change. I know they have been up to our school before (I think before I got here) and wanted to see the books and see how the money flows in our school. St. Xavier’s, I hear, is on the good side because the number one priority is the student. Let’s see, some other things I know about public schools: I know most of the day’s are shorter, usually from about 10am to 2 or 3pm. I hear it’s common for a teacher not to show up because they have a function, like a wedding. Kid’s from Ama Ghar, that hostel, have come home early before on several occasions because there was no teacher.
3) How are teacher’s treated? Is it different for men or women?
Teaching as a whole is viewed as a good profession. Like in America, it’s not the highest paying, but people realize the value of it. At my school the men and women seem to do everything together, with the exception of playing sports. Usually the JV girls are the only girls on the football field. We eat in the same room, share the same staff room, everyone’s voice is heard at a staff meeting. I hear in Jawalakhel, the women and men are separated though, their staff room and dining rooms. Definitely not the case in Godavari. You definitely see the men and women in their clumps, talking during break or at lunch, but I think that probably has more to do with “girl talk/guy talk” stuff than anything else. I’m pretty sure there is no difference in salary either.
4) What is the parent involvement?
Well, I think this is hindered, in a way, by the fact that many of our parents don’t speak English, and our school is an English medium school. It’s hard to be involved when you don’t speak the language. But yesterday we had the science fair, and many families came to support their child. Every class has a Parent’s Day program where they perform skits, songs, and dances, and the auditorium is always packed. There are a few staff/parent football matches every year, and the parents always field a team. At the Fr. Moran Memorial Football Tournament in December, it seemed like many of the players’ parents were there to support them. We have report card distribution days, where the parent’s have to come with the child to pick up the grades and to be able to talk to the teacher. So yeah, I think there is good involvement, but maybe not to the extent of America. We don’t have parent volunteers coming in every Friday or things like that.
5) What is the average age that a child leaves school? Is it due to demands at home? combined with Is education mandatory?
Well, that’s a tough question to answer since I’m pretty darn sure that education is not mandatory. If it is, than there is no enforcement of it, because you can walk anywhere and see a school aged child just sitting or playing or working during the same time that school is in session. So let’s say no, it’s not mandatory. It seems like in America, you could make a pretty accurate generalization by saying that every child finishes high school, and the x% goes on to college. I think the statistic here would be a little different, depending on the families needs. Children are still considered a valuable part of the work force here, and if a family needs help in the fields, then school is out of the question. Some kids might start school, but then have to stop mid way because they were needed at home. I think though, on a whole, if we were trying to make as accurate a generalization as possible, you could say that most students leave school after Class 10, our sophomore year of high school. The way it works here is Primary is considered 1-6, Secondary 7-10. After 10, all students take their SLC, a test which will allow them to go on to +2, basically Junior and Senior year of high school. They call that college. In +2 they begin to focus on a subject, like science or business or medicine. Not as many options. After +2 they go on to University, where they get their B.whatever, and then Grad school after that if possible.
6) Do all students learn English?
Depends on the school. Our school is English medium, so English is mandatory all day long. The only time a child can speak Nepali is during Nepali class. I was hanging out with an old boy (alum, as they call them) last night, and he was telling me that his Nepali was worse when he left St. Xavier’s than when he began. He said he doesn’t really feel like he has a mother tongue anymore. Many of the government schools are Nepali medium though, but I’m pretty sure they all have an English class or two as well.
7) How involved is the government in school?
Hmmm, good question. Not too sure. I know after Class 8 students take District Level Board Exams, and the SLC is run by the government too. I was talking to a volunteer from France down in the village, and he was telling me about the school that he was working at. Apparently the grounds and the buildings were funded by a Japanese man, and all of the furniture like desks and chairs and tables were provided by a French NGO (Non Government Organization). So Nepal had nothing to do with starting that government school. He told me that he had seen the budget, and that for an entire year, the government only gave RS 1500. Less than $30. Even here, for an entire school, that’s incredibly low. That doesn’t include salaries, but still, maintaining a school for a year on that must be pretty tough.
8) Do children in surrounding countries have the same education possibilities as children in Nepal?
Umm, probably not. I think India has a more respected set-up. It always valued highly here if someone studied in India. Actually, it’s always valued highly if someone studied anywhere outside of Nepal.