Day 18
I apologise in advance for this rushed Blog post but I have to be quick at the internet cafe this morning as I have a few things to sort out - like checking whether my insurance will validate me changing my flight in the event of a political strike! Also need to phone the Embassy and let them know that I'm here and planning to travel. We'll see what they say. There is a lot of mixed information coming through this end about the forthcoming 'bandah' planned to start on Sunday. Whether it will be cancelled, or whether it is going to last for a month - either of these are a possibility but no one has any real idea. My friend Carly and my mom have been searching the internet for more information for me and it looks as though it's cancelled but word here is that still nothing is certain. Not sure if it's safe to travel even by the supposedly safe 'tourist buses' (with plain clothed armed guards) and then when I do get to Kathmandu, how will I travel around the city? My mom tells me that she watched a video last night when the last bandah was in force and even people on bicycles trying to move around the neighbourhood were surrounded by people and forced to get off and walk. Oh my.
So anyway - on with yesterday's events. I woke up and - guess what - yup, had brekkie and a shower. One day I will surprise you all and do something crazy and out of character like .... I dunno, not shower lol
I spent the morning soaking my clothes in a bucket whilst reading another Maeve Binchy book ("The Dublin Four") and then I set about washing my stuff African-style on the veranda. Up to the roof, hang everything out to dry and lay my jeans on the hot clay tile roof like everyone else seems to do with their thicker fabrics. There is no 'school' at the Women's Centre for me this afternoon as it's a half day in Nepal (and tomorrow - Saturday - is their 'holy day' so no school then either) so instead I wander down to the internet cafe and update my Blog, reliving the whole jungle experience with Sundur Kali all over again. Oh I wish I could go with her into the jungle every single day! Maybe I will become a mahout and just stay here ...
Back at the guesthouse, Sunita arrives home (yay!). Her Principal has decided that she can have the weekend back at home seeing as her father is still visiting from the UK - and there is another relative here now that she wants to see again. I ask her who, wondering if Dal's wife is arriving soon but she says "you silly!". Awww. Dal and I head down to a German Bakery so that I can buy some rolls for lunch - I really fancy a tuna and mayo sandwich. I honestly can't eat any more curry. Possibly ever. After a very satisfying lunch, I spend the afternoon taking photographs of the hotel for Dal's new brochure that we've been working on. I fold the towels in the bedrooms properly (rather than just dumped on the side of the bath which is their usual practice) and pick some flowers from the garden to set the scene. Dal loves it and tells the staff that this is how he wants to find the rooms from now on. I can feel their eyes burning into me. Ooops.
The afternoon passes in a blur as I'm so busy taking photos and then finalising some 'write ups' in the brochure about the various tours on offer. It feels good to be doing something worthwhile as, after all, I did come here as a volunteer. Dal has refused to let me pay for my evening meals as a thank you for all my hard work - I try to explain that's not the point of volunteering but he won't back down. I will be eating with the family from now on.
Dal has collected Shova from school whilst I was busy amending the brochure and as they pull up on the motorcycle, she jumps off and flounces into her room. Dal follows but she locks him out. There is a lot of yelling going on (from Shova) and Dal walks over to where Sunita and I are sitting, giggling. Shova is annoyed with him for being late to pick her up - and more importantly, picking up Sunita first when it wasn't even planned for Sunita to be coming home at all today. Her nose has been put out of joint. The wrong footed teenager continues to stamp and holler and slam doors and even manages to air her feelings so that even I will understand by screaming "I hate you! You are the worst father EVER!". Dal makes his way over to her bedroom, followed by Sunita and the mother. After another five minutes or so of yelling and crying, Dal and Shova come out of the bedroom and get on the motorcycle. Sunita comes over to me and explains that Shova is moving to live with her grandparents (albeit without any kind of bag, I notice). Dal just shrugs and they drive off down the road. I place a bet with Sunita and her Uncle Kumar that Shova will be back tomorrow, full of apologies. Sunita says she will be back tonight.
We waste some time on You Tube and after only half an hour or so, Dal and Shova reappear at the entrance to the guesthouse. Shova is furious and stomps back to her bedroom where loud wails are heard throughout the rest of the evening. Dal says that the grandparents had told her she was being silly and there was no way they were becoming involved with something so petty. Oh dear. We all eat chicken curry for dinner (except Shova who is crying herself sick in her bedroom) and then sit out on the main veranda chatting until late into the night. We discuss the bandah, blonde hair/blue eyes vs dark hair/brown eyes (I want to look like Sunita - she wants to look like me). We go back on You Tube and find some traditional Nepali folk music and dance around (Puja, I remembered the 'change the light bulb / twist the door knob' dance you taught me so I didn't look too much of a wally - or maybe I did). It's a lovely family atmosphere and we're having such a good time. Before I know it, I have been convinced to stay on an extra day so that I can attend Sunita's school fete on the 29th. That leaves me with only one day in Kathmandu which wasn't really the plan but hey ho, plans change I guess. Ideally she wants me to stay until the 31st as that is her birthday but there is no way that's possible as my flight leaves the next day.
Dal heads off to bed and Sunita and I browse through copies of Elle and Glamour magazine that some tourists left previously. We sneak into the kitchen and share an ice cream at 11:00pm and discuss all the crazy fashions we've been looking at. Sunita is desperate to come to England for college next year and tells me that her father is considering it. He brings her lots of clothes from Primark and he showed her a photo of the shop once - she really wants to go to Primark more than "anywhere in the world". She has decided - as much as she will miss her mother - she would like to come to England and do her A Levels, then go onto Uni and eventually become a doctor. Dal has already told me that she is an A student across the board so I hope she gets what she wants. As we sit in darkness on the kitchen floor (the power went about an hour ago) taking turns to slurp our sneaky ice cream, I ask her what excites her most about the possibility of moving to England. She thinks hard for a few seconds and then announces with her head held high: "I will be able to hear Rhianna on the radio whenever I like". Bless.
22 January 2010
21 January 2010
Day 17 - Sundur Kali: Queen of the Jungle
Day 17
Wake up feeling a bit lost. Had a dream last night featuring a lot of important people in my life – some of whom are no longer with us. Wish I was back home. Lie around feeling sorry for myself. I am starting to feel a bit frustrated and lonely here – I am somewhat ‘trapped’ in Sauraha because, unless your days revolve around the heffalumps (which mine no longer do at the moment), there really is nothing much to do. It is a small village, a tourist drop off point. See the heffalumps and then move on. I don’t have the budget, nor the courage, to set out on my own further afield. The buses here are far scarier (although in better condition) than in either Barbados or Africa and the roads are just insane. Nope, I’m better off staying put. I do try to push these feelings away as I know how ungrateful it must sound to my friends and family back home. I’m in this wonderful, sweet smelling country, surrounded by some of the most beautiful landscapes I have ever seen and I’ve had a river bath with an elephant – I shouldn’t be able to find anything to complain about. It’s hard to really explain without sounding like a spoilt brat really … I’m just homesick I think.
After my breakfast and shower, I walk to the village to visit the net cafe. One thing I really like about this one is the free tea and coffee. There are other net cafes closer by but the lure of something free (and warm!) makes me walk that extra couple of minutes. I settle down and update my Blog. The Manager asks me if I am a journalist or a writer seeing as I am in here every day. I say I guess I’m kind of, sort of, a little bit of a writer. Even if only my close friends and family find it of any interest! lol
At 1:00pm, I walk up towards the Women’s Centre, armed with my English curriculum books that the Headmaster kindly loaned me. But alas, they are studying Maths today. Well, that is something that I most certainly can’t help with being the only GCSE that I failed miserably (10 points for writing your name on the paper – check). The lesson is in Nepalese so I bow out politely and say that I will see them tomorrow. A dog takes issue with my presence and decides to chase me away, barking and foaming at the mouth. As I run around a corner, a man on a bicycle ploughs into me and we both end up in a bush. I anxiously check behind me but the dog has lost interest. I apologise profusely to the man who simply says “No problem”, dusts himself off and hops back on his bike. Blimey, how refreshingly polite. I however have landed on my dodgy knee and limp back to the guesthouse.
I drown my sorrows in a few cups of black tea before giving myself a mental slap and, after changing into suitably coloured safari clothing, I cross the road to the stables. Ali is making koochie by himself so I plonk myself down on the straw beside him and go about helping him. He tells me that Saki is not coming back until tomorrow now which is rather disappointing to hear as I really wanted to do the jungle safari with him rather than his older brother, Sameer. On cue, Sameer appears with Sundur Kali – back from ‘duty’ at Chitwan National Park – and when she sees me, Sundur Kali raises her trunk high and opens her mouth. Ali laughs and says “she want koochie”. Ah I see, I am just the ‘koochie lady’ – guess I have missed her more than she’s missed me. Ali starts to clean the straw and dirt from her back while Sameeer has a cup of tea. I lean against the front of Sundur Kali’s trunk, wrapping my arms around it, and give her a big ol’ smooch. Gosh, I really have missed her. I feel like crying with joy. It’s lovely to feel her warmth again and she leans into me as well. She doesn’t move her head, she’s just content on us leaning against each other. Can’t begin to explain how content I am with this – I could eat, sleep and die in this position, all the while with a smile on my face. Once Ali has finished cleaning off the debris from her back, I help him and Sameer strap on the box seat. Sameer asks if I want to drive Sundur Kali to the jungle – of course I do! I grab the lower part of her ears, she lifts her trunk slightly for me to step onto and when I’m in position, she lifts me up and I scramble onto her head. I really must remember to get a photo of this as it’s absolutely one of my favourite things to do!
We set off – Sameeer walking along beside us and me perched up high on Sundur Kali with my “don’t do that” stick. I am in seventh heaven as we walk through the village – me and my heffalump. It’s a bit hairy at times as, along with camels, Sundur Kali is a bit wary of chickens, babies, motorcycles, dogs and goats. And we see a lot of these on the way. She stops and turns her head to hide (as if!) whenever one of these things comes across her path. I have to give her a kick behind her ears (which I hate doing) and force her to keep going. Please don’t hate me Sundur Kali!
After about half an hour (which would have taken 10 minutes on any other heffalump), we reach the jungle entrance. I climb into the box seat behind me, Sameer takes his position as the driver, we collect three tourists from a ‘tower’ (some steps up to a platform where people can board the elephants easily) and we set off.
We must be in the jungle no more than 5 minutes and I’ve just begun to tell Sameer about the jeep safari yesterday and how Dal and I saw a Black Rhino when one of the tourists squeals and we all look left – a Black Rhino! Literally, right there!! I am slightly paniced as it is looking right at us – will it charge? Nope. It hasn’t spotted us – only Sundur Kali. And really – it’s not going to take her on is it now? The rhino keeps grazing and, once satisfied, starts to head into the bush. A white bird (an eegrit I think?) is perched on its back hitching a ride. No one has spoken at all for a few minutes – we’ve all been too busy taking photos and trying not to scare it away. I am chuffed to bits – two days, two Black Rhinos.
Sunbathing crocs
Stunning Kingfisher - these are the most brightly coloured birds I've ever seen. Amazing.
We even come across some more Black Rhinos – a male and a female. They seem to be gearing up for a fight but Sameer says it is a mating ritual. They butt their heads together and then walk around in a circle, following each other, until they turn and face each other and start headbutting each other again. Not the most romantic courtship I’ve ever seen but each to their own, ha ha.
Mating? Or fighting?
We head down to the river so that Sundur Kali can have a drink while we are crossing to the other side. We bump into her friend, Puja, who greets her by doing a loud fart in her face. It doesn’t seem to affect their friendship though and they nuzzle each other before we move on. 
A spotted deer watching us leave the jungle - shame it's a blurry photo, he was beautiful. And look at those antlers!!
We spend a good 4 hours in the jungle, spotting the most beautiful forest life. I wish it was safe to walk in these parts as some of the fungus growing on the tree stumps (yes, fungus) is really quite amazing. I would love to photograph it. Unfortunately, a lot of my photographs today end up being totally blurred as it’s quite hard to have a steady hand when Sundur Kali is rocking and rolling and demolishing the forest beneath you. Ah well.
Eventually we leave the jungle and head back into town. My legs have totally seized up and muscles that I didn’t know I had are screaming in agony. It’s actually quite hard work to keep yourself steady in a box seat on an elephant. Not quite the leisurely ride I had been expecting. I opt to walk back some of the way as I literally can’t stand it any longer and Sameer is still firmly rooted in the driver’s seat. I stop to cross the road as I want to check my emails in the internet cafe and Sundur Kali decides to stop too. She looks over at me as if to say “What are we doing now?”. I give her trunk a quick hug and say I will see her later. Sameer gives her a kick behind the ears (a bit less affectionate than my own gesture) and she slowly lumbers off.
After checking my emails, I head back to the guesthouse – but not before popping into the stables to say goodnight to Sundur Kali. She is lazily munching koochie and batting her long eyelashes. Ali is giving her a pedicure (bless) and Sameer is cooking up some rice and ‘greens’. I can’t wait until Saki is back tomorrow and I can ask if him it’s alright for me to come and visit more often. I realise now that I only have 6 or 7 days left in Sauraha and then – who knows when, or even if, I will ever see my beautiful heffalump again *sniff*
Back at the guesthouse, I sit chatting with Dal and we stumble onto the topic of tattoos. I tell him about the two I already have and he asks will I get another? I tell him that I’ve been playing with one idea and ask his opinion. He agrees that it’s a lovely idea and so I ask him to help me out with it. With the finished design ready, we draw it in place to see how it will look … what do you think? Can you guess what it says?
Wake up feeling a bit lost. Had a dream last night featuring a lot of important people in my life – some of whom are no longer with us. Wish I was back home. Lie around feeling sorry for myself. I am starting to feel a bit frustrated and lonely here – I am somewhat ‘trapped’ in Sauraha because, unless your days revolve around the heffalumps (which mine no longer do at the moment), there really is nothing much to do. It is a small village, a tourist drop off point. See the heffalumps and then move on. I don’t have the budget, nor the courage, to set out on my own further afield. The buses here are far scarier (although in better condition) than in either Barbados or Africa and the roads are just insane. Nope, I’m better off staying put. I do try to push these feelings away as I know how ungrateful it must sound to my friends and family back home. I’m in this wonderful, sweet smelling country, surrounded by some of the most beautiful landscapes I have ever seen and I’ve had a river bath with an elephant – I shouldn’t be able to find anything to complain about. It’s hard to really explain without sounding like a spoilt brat really … I’m just homesick I think.
After my breakfast and shower, I walk to the village to visit the net cafe. One thing I really like about this one is the free tea and coffee. There are other net cafes closer by but the lure of something free (and warm!) makes me walk that extra couple of minutes. I settle down and update my Blog. The Manager asks me if I am a journalist or a writer seeing as I am in here every day. I say I guess I’m kind of, sort of, a little bit of a writer. Even if only my close friends and family find it of any interest! lol
At 1:00pm, I walk up towards the Women’s Centre, armed with my English curriculum books that the Headmaster kindly loaned me. But alas, they are studying Maths today. Well, that is something that I most certainly can’t help with being the only GCSE that I failed miserably (10 points for writing your name on the paper – check). The lesson is in Nepalese so I bow out politely and say that I will see them tomorrow. A dog takes issue with my presence and decides to chase me away, barking and foaming at the mouth. As I run around a corner, a man on a bicycle ploughs into me and we both end up in a bush. I anxiously check behind me but the dog has lost interest. I apologise profusely to the man who simply says “No problem”, dusts himself off and hops back on his bike. Blimey, how refreshingly polite. I however have landed on my dodgy knee and limp back to the guesthouse.
I drown my sorrows in a few cups of black tea before giving myself a mental slap and, after changing into suitably coloured safari clothing, I cross the road to the stables. Ali is making koochie by himself so I plonk myself down on the straw beside him and go about helping him. He tells me that Saki is not coming back until tomorrow now which is rather disappointing to hear as I really wanted to do the jungle safari with him rather than his older brother, Sameer. On cue, Sameer appears with Sundur Kali – back from ‘duty’ at Chitwan National Park – and when she sees me, Sundur Kali raises her trunk high and opens her mouth. Ali laughs and says “she want koochie”. Ah I see, I am just the ‘koochie lady’ – guess I have missed her more than she’s missed me. Ali starts to clean the straw and dirt from her back while Sameeer has a cup of tea. I lean against the front of Sundur Kali’s trunk, wrapping my arms around it, and give her a big ol’ smooch. Gosh, I really have missed her. I feel like crying with joy. It’s lovely to feel her warmth again and she leans into me as well. She doesn’t move her head, she’s just content on us leaning against each other. Can’t begin to explain how content I am with this – I could eat, sleep and die in this position, all the while with a smile on my face. Once Ali has finished cleaning off the debris from her back, I help him and Sameer strap on the box seat. Sameer asks if I want to drive Sundur Kali to the jungle – of course I do! I grab the lower part of her ears, she lifts her trunk slightly for me to step onto and when I’m in position, she lifts me up and I scramble onto her head. I really must remember to get a photo of this as it’s absolutely one of my favourite things to do!
We set off – Sameeer walking along beside us and me perched up high on Sundur Kali with my “don’t do that” stick. I am in seventh heaven as we walk through the village – me and my heffalump. It’s a bit hairy at times as, along with camels, Sundur Kali is a bit wary of chickens, babies, motorcycles, dogs and goats. And we see a lot of these on the way. She stops and turns her head to hide (as if!) whenever one of these things comes across her path. I have to give her a kick behind her ears (which I hate doing) and force her to keep going. Please don’t hate me Sundur Kali!
After about half an hour (which would have taken 10 minutes on any other heffalump), we reach the jungle entrance. I climb into the box seat behind me, Sameer takes his position as the driver, we collect three tourists from a ‘tower’ (some steps up to a platform where people can board the elephants easily) and we set off.
Mahouts waiting with their heffalumps for tourists
Heading into the jungle with Sundur Kali
We must be in the jungle no more than 5 minutes and I’ve just begun to tell Sameer about the jeep safari yesterday and how Dal and I saw a Black Rhino when one of the tourists squeals and we all look left – a Black Rhino! Literally, right there!! I am slightly paniced as it is looking right at us – will it charge? Nope. It hasn’t spotted us – only Sundur Kali. And really – it’s not going to take her on is it now? The rhino keeps grazing and, once satisfied, starts to head into the bush. A white bird (an eegrit I think?) is perched on its back hitching a ride. No one has spoken at all for a few minutes – we’ve all been too busy taking photos and trying not to scare it away. I am chuffed to bits – two days, two Black Rhinos.
A birdie hitching a ride
We continue with our trek. Sundur Kali is very gentle – even as she is demolishing sapling trees which are unfortunate enough to be in her way. I video her as she stomps them down with her huge feet, not giving a second thought to going around them. She also doesn’t seem to take into account that we are higher than her and insists on going through some quite thick parts of bush testing Sameer’s reactions as he tries in vain to stop branches from hitting us square on in the face. He fails. But we are all laughing and having a great time. We see spotted deer (so beautiful!), beautiful Kingfishers, little orange monkeys, and even some sunbathing crocs down by the river.
Awww, ickle orange monkey
Sunbathing crocs
View of the river - so peaceful
Stunning Kingfisher - these are the most brightly coloured birds I've ever seen. Amazing.
We even come across some more Black Rhinos – a male and a female. They seem to be gearing up for a fight but Sameer says it is a mating ritual. They butt their heads together and then walk around in a circle, following each other, until they turn and face each other and start headbutting each other again. Not the most romantic courtship I’ve ever seen but each to their own, ha ha.
Oooh another rhino! (a small one tho)
Mating? Or fighting?
We head down to the river so that Sundur Kali can have a drink while we are crossing to the other side. We bump into her friend, Puja, who greets her by doing a loud fart in her face. It doesn’t seem to affect their friendship though and they nuzzle each other before we move on.
Puja crossing the river
A spotted deer watching us leave the jungle - shame it's a blurry photo, he was beautiful. And look at those antlers!!
We spend a good 4 hours in the jungle, spotting the most beautiful forest life. I wish it was safe to walk in these parts as some of the fungus growing on the tree stumps (yes, fungus) is really quite amazing. I would love to photograph it. Unfortunately, a lot of my photographs today end up being totally blurred as it’s quite hard to have a steady hand when Sundur Kali is rocking and rolling and demolishing the forest beneath you. Ah well.
Eventually we leave the jungle and head back into town. My legs have totally seized up and muscles that I didn’t know I had are screaming in agony. It’s actually quite hard work to keep yourself steady in a box seat on an elephant. Not quite the leisurely ride I had been expecting. I opt to walk back some of the way as I literally can’t stand it any longer and Sameer is still firmly rooted in the driver’s seat. I stop to cross the road as I want to check my emails in the internet cafe and Sundur Kali decides to stop too. She looks over at me as if to say “What are we doing now?”. I give her trunk a quick hug and say I will see her later. Sameer gives her a kick behind the ears (a bit less affectionate than my own gesture) and she slowly lumbers off.
After checking my emails, I head back to the guesthouse – but not before popping into the stables to say goodnight to Sundur Kali. She is lazily munching koochie and batting her long eyelashes. Ali is giving her a pedicure (bless) and Sameer is cooking up some rice and ‘greens’. I can’t wait until Saki is back tomorrow and I can ask if him it’s alright for me to come and visit more often. I realise now that I only have 6 or 7 days left in Sauraha and then – who knows when, or even if, I will ever see my beautiful heffalump again *sniff*
Back at the guesthouse, I sit chatting with Dal and we stumble onto the topic of tattoos. I tell him about the two I already have and he asks will I get another? I tell him that I’ve been playing with one idea and ask his opinion. He agrees that it’s a lovely idea and so I ask him to help me out with it. With the finished design ready, we draw it in place to see how it will look … what do you think? Can you guess what it says?
20 January 2010
Day 16 - Playing with fire
Day 16
Last night whilst walking home from the village, I bumped into a man called Jurgen (a German film maker) who the locals affectionately call Ganesh Dai. He has been living here and on off for about 10 years now and usually stays at the original guesthouse where I was placed. He observes that he hasn't seen me around at mealtimes and I explain that I moved hotels. He says that he is looking to use somewhere else in furture also as he's not happy with the standards anymore. I tell him Dal and Wild Horizons and he says he will definitely come and check it out with his wife. He also informs me that there is a banda coming up - a political strike - and no transport will be operating. He thinks that it will start on the 26th and last for about a week. Needless to say, this worries me greatly as I'm meant to be heading back to Kathmandu on the 28th. He tells me quite a scary story of a previous banda he was here for and, eager to catch his flight, he ignored advice not to travel and set off on his motorbike. During his journey on the windy cliff roads along the Tisuli River, he stopped for gas and when he set off again, he realised that some 'rebel' type soldiers had stolen his petrol cap. As he drove away, some of the 'rebels' actually tried to set light to his bike by flicking lit straw at his now unsecured petol opening. YIKES!
I reached the guesthouse, worrying and fretting. Dal assured me that even if there is a banda, they will let the tourist buses through without too much problem. I really don't need anything else going wrong on this trip so I sincerely hope so. Dal then told me that he had booked us a on jeep safari tomorrow and has already informed the Headmaster type guy that I won't be teaching until the following day. I'm pleased to be going on a jeep safari but a bit put out that on the flip side I am missing out on my prepared English lesson with the women. Dal says it will keep and that they are only too pleased for me to be seeing a bit more of their surroundings. He goes on to further surprise me by telling me that he has booked an elephant jungle safari on Thursday - with Sundur Kali! YES! Now that definitely lifts my spirits :-)
We spend the rest of the evening chatting about random stuff such as Dragon's Den and The Apprentice which leads us to discussing "gaps in the market". I am desperate to go and see Buddah's birthplace after learning that it is only about 3 hours from here but no one organises such a tour. I'm hesitant to set out alone and find overnight accommodation so I'm stuck - and frustrated. Dal agrees that this would be a great tour to organise so we put our heads together and work out ways he can do it in the future. All the while, a resident blind mouse is running back and forth from the French doors (bang!) back to the bar (bang!), round the side of the bar into some stacked boxes (bang!). He rests for a few minutes and then starts again. The French doors are actually open but the poor thing never manages to aim in the right direction. And on other nights when he does make it outside, he registers the cold - so it seems - and darts back in, only to resume his headbanging assault course all over again. It's just one of the things I've learned not to really notice anymore lol
So anyway - onto today. After breakfast, I am feeling a bit lazy. Homesickness has set it. I spend a completely self indulgent few hours, snuggled in my sleeping bag, reading and wishing I could just pop home for a cup of tea and then come back. Dal knocks on my door at about 11:00am and tells me that I should not wear bright colours on the safari - especially not red, pink or white. I consult my wardrobe and root through my red, pink and white tops and other brightly coloured clothing and start to worry. In the end I find a bluey/greeny top and a pair of green combats. By 12:00pm, I am sat having soup for lunch. By 12:45pm, I am holding my breath as we cross the river in a wobbly Nepalese 'canoe'. By 1:15pm, I am bouncing along through tall elephant grass on the back of a safari jeep, happily taking in the scenery. And by 2:00pm, I am stood by the side of the jeep watching an out of control fire about 12 feet in front of us and wondering how cross my mother will be with me if I don't get out of here alive?
Everything was going so well. The six of us sat in the back - me, a Canadian couple, an American, a French guy and a Brazilian guy. Dal was up on top of the jeep cab with his binoculors and telling us when he had spotted some deer or some beautiful bird. We would stop, oooh and ahhhh, take pics and then be off again. Two other jeeps were behind us but we were all spaced out enough not to notice. The elephant grass on either side is very tall - I estimate about 9 ft. It is difficult to see through to the lake but that makes it all the more fun when we do manage to spot something. Further up the track, Dal draws our attention to some sunbathing crocodiles. They are HUGE and I'm very glad we are on the other side of the lake.
It is when we reach another section of tall elephant grass that we sense a problem. First, the air around us has suddenly got warm and as we continue along the path, we can definitely smell burning. The six of us in the back strain our necks to see if we can see the source. Rounding the next corner, we are confronted with a lot of smoke and as the wind blows across the path, beyond the smoke a raging fire comes into view. There is a jeep in front of us, stopped, and people are milling around wondering what to do. The fire has caught on both sides of the path and rages and leaps and then goes quiet again before the flames shoot up bigger than before. The six of us exchange nervous glances and I catch Dal's eye. He gives me a look that says I shouldn't worry and gallantly jumps off the top of the jeep and goes to speak with some others. Some local men are frantically trying to stamp out some of the smaller flames which are nearest to the road, ignoring the fact that right next to them are flames as high as a house. We all get off the jeep and some of us - me included - film the scene in front of us. The flames are getting bigger and hotter so we quickly get back in the jeep to await instructions. Dal comes running back and explains that help is on the way but, in the meantime, we have to try and get to the other side of the fire "just in case". I'm sorry, did I hear that right? We have to get to the other side? So, you mean, willingly go through the burning flames on either side of the road. Okay, I know I am not running directly through the flames but the prospect of flying cinders and possible burnt skin or loss of my eyesight etc seems scary enough. Everyone is getting out of the jeep again and I follow their lead. Before I can utter a word of doubt about this 'plan', our jeep roars off and - due to the bump in the road - it does a Starsky and Hutch jump with the flames licking on either side. I must admit - despite the element of death - it looks quite cool. Then, quite suddenly, Dal is ushering us through "quickly, quickly!!" and we are expected to follow the path the jeep just took. Everyone is ahead of me so I just blindly follow, hoping that my stupid sandals don't trip me up (why didn't I wear my trekking shoes today??). It is seriously HOT as we pass through the flames and can feel the hairs on my arms sizzle from the intense heat. We continue to run up the path, far away from the main fire (there are lots of other little ones springing up around us now as the wind has carried the lit straw and grass) and we eventually come across our jeep. Dal is still hurrying us along and yells at us to quickly get back on the jeep. We all jump up and, with some of us still hanging onto the back with one leg in and one leg out, the driver roars off up the road. We stop after about 3 minutes and everyone gets their breath. Dal says that for one frightening minute, he really didn't think the fire was going to let us out. Oh ... my ... god.
Okay, it's getting bigger people ... errrmmm. Now what?
Doesn't look like much from this angle but it was big and it was hot and we had to run through it. Scary times!
Drama over, we continue on our safari - although seeing some deer through the trees or grass no longer holds the kind of wonder it did before we all nearly died, ha ha. We continue to spot them though, along with more crocodiles and birds. "Yeah yeah, where's the Black Rhino - only one of those bad boys could top the fire", we all joke. We come across a crocodile breeding centre and Dal says we will stop here for a 20 minute break. Anyone who wants to go in should pay 100 Rupees at the booth and be back at the jeep in plenty of time. Dal accompanies me inside and the poor bloke ends up taking the rest of our jeep-friends on a guided tour of the croc dens. The crocs are very sweet - I conclude that they would make super pets if they didn't have an urge to eat you.
Just then, the jeep stops suddenly and Dal says in a hushed voice "look, look!". To our right is a massive Black Rhino - literally less than 20 steps away from our jeep and as big as a small elephant. I am totally mesmorized - and aware that he could kill us all in an instant. But he doesn't seem bothered by us - he is lazily pulling at some vegetation having his dinner. I balance on the back of the jeep with one leg almost touching the road. Everyone is eager to get a couple of photos and just as I finish reviewing a couple, I look over again and find the rhino staring at us. Our jeep takes off without warning, causing me to nearly end up on the road! Dal explains excitedly that the Rhino had made eye contact and would have charged if we had stayed around. We stop around the corner and wait. We can hear the rhino coming through the vegetation - loudly. Just as we see his big black head appear out of a bush, Dal bangs furiously on the top of the driver's cab and we are speeding off again. The rhino steps out onto the road and watches us fade from his view. Dal is laughing, my jeep-friends are all saying 'wow' and 'oh man'. Me? I can't stand any more excitement! Pleeeease just take me back to the comfort of the guesthouse where I can crawl into my nice safe sleeping bag and forget about random fires and charging rhinos. Neffy The Intrepid surrenders - I don't think I'm cut out for this :-p
And so - after another wobbly canoe ride, a cold walk home, some freshly made thick cut chips, and a bowl of warm water for my frozen tootsies - that's exactly what I did. Snuggle snuggle Phew. On reflection, it was an absolutely incredible day and I'm soooo glad I got to see the infamous Black Rhino. A lot of other tourists go on this safari and don't even get a glimpse. Not sure I would do it again though, my nerves are shot!
Last night whilst walking home from the village, I bumped into a man called Jurgen (a German film maker) who the locals affectionately call Ganesh Dai. He has been living here and on off for about 10 years now and usually stays at the original guesthouse where I was placed. He observes that he hasn't seen me around at mealtimes and I explain that I moved hotels. He says that he is looking to use somewhere else in furture also as he's not happy with the standards anymore. I tell him Dal and Wild Horizons and he says he will definitely come and check it out with his wife. He also informs me that there is a banda coming up - a political strike - and no transport will be operating. He thinks that it will start on the 26th and last for about a week. Needless to say, this worries me greatly as I'm meant to be heading back to Kathmandu on the 28th. He tells me quite a scary story of a previous banda he was here for and, eager to catch his flight, he ignored advice not to travel and set off on his motorbike. During his journey on the windy cliff roads along the Tisuli River, he stopped for gas and when he set off again, he realised that some 'rebel' type soldiers had stolen his petrol cap. As he drove away, some of the 'rebels' actually tried to set light to his bike by flicking lit straw at his now unsecured petol opening. YIKES!
I reached the guesthouse, worrying and fretting. Dal assured me that even if there is a banda, they will let the tourist buses through without too much problem. I really don't need anything else going wrong on this trip so I sincerely hope so. Dal then told me that he had booked us a on jeep safari tomorrow and has already informed the Headmaster type guy that I won't be teaching until the following day. I'm pleased to be going on a jeep safari but a bit put out that on the flip side I am missing out on my prepared English lesson with the women. Dal says it will keep and that they are only too pleased for me to be seeing a bit more of their surroundings. He goes on to further surprise me by telling me that he has booked an elephant jungle safari on Thursday - with Sundur Kali! YES! Now that definitely lifts my spirits :-)
We spend the rest of the evening chatting about random stuff such as Dragon's Den and The Apprentice which leads us to discussing "gaps in the market". I am desperate to go and see Buddah's birthplace after learning that it is only about 3 hours from here but no one organises such a tour. I'm hesitant to set out alone and find overnight accommodation so I'm stuck - and frustrated. Dal agrees that this would be a great tour to organise so we put our heads together and work out ways he can do it in the future. All the while, a resident blind mouse is running back and forth from the French doors (bang!) back to the bar (bang!), round the side of the bar into some stacked boxes (bang!). He rests for a few minutes and then starts again. The French doors are actually open but the poor thing never manages to aim in the right direction. And on other nights when he does make it outside, he registers the cold - so it seems - and darts back in, only to resume his headbanging assault course all over again. It's just one of the things I've learned not to really notice anymore lol
So anyway - onto today. After breakfast, I am feeling a bit lazy. Homesickness has set it. I spend a completely self indulgent few hours, snuggled in my sleeping bag, reading and wishing I could just pop home for a cup of tea and then come back. Dal knocks on my door at about 11:00am and tells me that I should not wear bright colours on the safari - especially not red, pink or white. I consult my wardrobe and root through my red, pink and white tops and other brightly coloured clothing and start to worry. In the end I find a bluey/greeny top and a pair of green combats. By 12:00pm, I am sat having soup for lunch. By 12:45pm, I am holding my breath as we cross the river in a wobbly Nepalese 'canoe'. By 1:15pm, I am bouncing along through tall elephant grass on the back of a safari jeep, happily taking in the scenery. And by 2:00pm, I am stood by the side of the jeep watching an out of control fire about 12 feet in front of us and wondering how cross my mother will be with me if I don't get out of here alive?
Setting out on our safari - it was all going so well ...
Our canoe - basically a hollow log
Everything was going so well. The six of us sat in the back - me, a Canadian couple, an American, a French guy and a Brazilian guy. Dal was up on top of the jeep cab with his binoculors and telling us when he had spotted some deer or some beautiful bird. We would stop, oooh and ahhhh, take pics and then be off again. Two other jeeps were behind us but we were all spaced out enough not to notice. The elephant grass on either side is very tall - I estimate about 9 ft. It is difficult to see through to the lake but that makes it all the more fun when we do manage to spot something. Further up the track, Dal draws our attention to some sunbathing crocodiles. They are HUGE and I'm very glad we are on the other side of the lake.
Entering the forest
Rudolf on holiday
Black Crane drying its wings
Sunbathing crocs
Our bumpy but fun jeep safari continues - we leave the elephant grass and enter some thick forest. When the forest eventually clears, we are back in the elephant grass for a while - and then forest again. In and out like this for about an hour. It's very beautiful and I love looking at all the trees which I have silently named Helter Skelter trees. They are massive - wider than your front door - and around them are thick tree-like vines which wind their way up from the root of the tree all the way to the top. Just like a helter skelter! :-)
It is when we reach another section of tall elephant grass that we sense a problem. First, the air around us has suddenly got warm and as we continue along the path, we can definitely smell burning. The six of us in the back strain our necks to see if we can see the source. Rounding the next corner, we are confronted with a lot of smoke and as the wind blows across the path, beyond the smoke a raging fire comes into view. There is a jeep in front of us, stopped, and people are milling around wondering what to do. The fire has caught on both sides of the path and rages and leaps and then goes quiet again before the flames shoot up bigger than before. The six of us exchange nervous glances and I catch Dal's eye. He gives me a look that says I shouldn't worry and gallantly jumps off the top of the jeep and goes to speak with some others. Some local men are frantically trying to stamp out some of the smaller flames which are nearest to the road, ignoring the fact that right next to them are flames as high as a house. We all get off the jeep and some of us - me included - film the scene in front of us. The flames are getting bigger and hotter so we quickly get back in the jeep to await instructions. Dal comes running back and explains that help is on the way but, in the meantime, we have to try and get to the other side of the fire "just in case". I'm sorry, did I hear that right? We have to get to the other side? So, you mean, willingly go through the burning flames on either side of the road. Okay, I know I am not running directly through the flames but the prospect of flying cinders and possible burnt skin or loss of my eyesight etc seems scary enough. Everyone is getting out of the jeep again and I follow their lead. Before I can utter a word of doubt about this 'plan', our jeep roars off and - due to the bump in the road - it does a Starsky and Hutch jump with the flames licking on either side. I must admit - despite the element of death - it looks quite cool. Then, quite suddenly, Dal is ushering us through "quickly, quickly!!" and we are expected to follow the path the jeep just took. Everyone is ahead of me so I just blindly follow, hoping that my stupid sandals don't trip me up (why didn't I wear my trekking shoes today??). It is seriously HOT as we pass through the flames and can feel the hairs on my arms sizzle from the intense heat. We continue to run up the path, far away from the main fire (there are lots of other little ones springing up around us now as the wind has carried the lit straw and grass) and we eventually come across our jeep. Dal is still hurrying us along and yells at us to quickly get back on the jeep. We all jump up and, with some of us still hanging onto the back with one leg in and one leg out, the driver roars off up the road. We stop after about 3 minutes and everyone gets their breath. Dal says that for one frightening minute, he really didn't think the fire was going to let us out. Oh ... my ... god.
Stopping to observe the fire - not that we had much choice
Okay, it's getting bigger people ... errrmmm. Now what?
Doesn't look like much from this angle but it was big and it was hot and we had to run through it. Scary times!
Drama over, we continue on our safari - although seeing some deer through the trees or grass no longer holds the kind of wonder it did before we all nearly died, ha ha. We continue to spot them though, along with more crocodiles and birds. "Yeah yeah, where's the Black Rhino - only one of those bad boys could top the fire", we all joke. We come across a crocodile breeding centre and Dal says we will stop here for a 20 minute break. Anyone who wants to go in should pay 100 Rupees at the booth and be back at the jeep in plenty of time. Dal accompanies me inside and the poor bloke ends up taking the rest of our jeep-friends on a guided tour of the croc dens. The crocs are very sweet - I conclude that they would make super pets if they didn't have an urge to eat you.
Cute baby crocs
Back in the jeep, we continue on our safari. More deer, more birds ... the sun is starting to get lower and it's certainly getting colder. Everyone in the jeep is a bit down because we haven't seen any rhinos, or tigers, or bears. Dal shouts into the driver's cab and at the next 'junction' in the forest, we veer right and the other jeeps veer left. Having survived the fire, I'm not sure we should tempt fate and go off the beaten track but Dal seems quite pleased with himself. The jeep stops every 100 yards or so and we stay deathly silent. Every so often, the driver and Dal will both get off the jeep and stalk into the forest or the grass, leaving us tourists as prey it seems. Everyone has, by now, given up. We are cold, a little hungry, and just want to get back really. The jeep sets off down the bumpy track. I am looking to my right, admiring the beautiful lake and the orange sun setting and thinking, if it wasn't so dangerous with all these animals 'supposedly' living here, this would be the most ideallic setting for my mom to build a log cabin.
Just then, the jeep stops suddenly and Dal says in a hushed voice "look, look!". To our right is a massive Black Rhino - literally less than 20 steps away from our jeep and as big as a small elephant. I am totally mesmorized - and aware that he could kill us all in an instant. But he doesn't seem bothered by us - he is lazily pulling at some vegetation having his dinner. I balance on the back of the jeep with one leg almost touching the road. Everyone is eager to get a couple of photos and just as I finish reviewing a couple, I look over again and find the rhino staring at us. Our jeep takes off without warning, causing me to nearly end up on the road! Dal explains excitedly that the Rhino had made eye contact and would have charged if we had stayed around. We stop around the corner and wait. We can hear the rhino coming through the vegetation - loudly. Just as we see his big black head appear out of a bush, Dal bangs furiously on the top of the driver's cab and we are speeding off again. The rhino steps out onto the road and watches us fade from his view. Dal is laughing, my jeep-friends are all saying 'wow' and 'oh man'. Me? I can't stand any more excitement! Pleeeease just take me back to the comfort of the guesthouse where I can crawl into my nice safe sleeping bag and forget about random fires and charging rhinos. Neffy The Intrepid surrenders - I don't think I'm cut out for this :-p
Ooooh! Black Rhino!!! (centre)
Wow, right? Just wow.
And so - after another wobbly canoe ride, a cold walk home, some freshly made thick cut chips, and a bowl of warm water for my frozen tootsies - that's exactly what I did. Snuggle snuggle Phew. On reflection, it was an absolutely incredible day and I'm soooo glad I got to see the infamous Black Rhino. A lot of other tourists go on this safari and don't even get a glimpse. Not sure I would do it again though, my nerves are shot!
Let's hope the elephant safari tomorrow is a little less eventful ...
19 January 2010
Day 15 - The long walk to ... nowhere
Day 15
Yesterday I bought a map of the local area and discovered that a Shiva temple is quite close by. I figure it is about a 10 minute walk so at 8:00am I have my breakfast (porridge again) and after a boiling hot shower (bliss!) I set off. I walk through the elephant camp and out the other side, along some tiny dusty paths and onto larger roads, through a few village settlements, into a forest and out the other side. I look at my phone to check the time and realise I have been walking for just under an hour. My map reading never was any good. I ask a woman passing by on a bicycle if the Shiva temple is in this direction and she giggles with an imaginary friend and says "yes, you go, you go". I carry on walking. The ground has now become very rocky and I stumble a few times. I am quite sure I would have a sprained ankle if it wasn't for my strudy trekking shoes. I stop to buy some bookmarks made out of elephant dung paper. I've been looking for this little shop everywhere after hearing about it. They have such nice things - I'll definitely be back.
A little further up the road I find that I am walking alongside a river. I scratch my head. I don't remember this on my map but I can't check to be sure because - clever me - I've of course left the map back at the guesthouse. The road bends to cross a bridge. There is no other turning, and nor can I go straight ahead but I can't see any sign of life anywhere.I decide to cross the bridge. A man with a horse and cart is coming in the opposite direction so I ask again whether I am still going in the right direction for the temple. He smiles and nods. I plod on.
Eventually, after yet another trek through another bit of forest, I reach a small village. There are some boys gathered around a raised table (about waist height) playing some sort of game. I ask them about the temple. They all laugh and talk in Nepalese before confirming that I should just keep going straight. After a further 10 minutes or so, I have to ask again because it really doesn't seem as though I'm getting anywhere. A woman in front of her house making a mat tells me "that corner, you go" and points ahead of me. Yay! I've made it! It has taken me nearly an hour and a half and, despite the cold and fog, I'm starting to get hot and bothered. I quicken my pace, eager to see the reward of my determined walk. I round the corner, camera at the ready, holding my breath. I stare ahead of me. I blink. I rub my eyes. I blink again. In front of me is a low wall enclosing the entrance (through a rusty old broken gate practically hanging off it's hinges) to a 'garden' that is actually better described as mud with leftover building materials scattered around. And in pride and place at the centre of this enclosure is what I assume to the Shiva temple. It is a very modest building and really nothing at all to write home about - no seriously, at all. My guesthouse is nicer. Where are the ornate carvings? The unique age old architecture? The bursting colours? It definitely has none of this. Just to be absolutely sure, I ask some passing children if this is in fact the temple. They say yes and then in the same breath demand that I take their photograph.
Well, I'm gutted. That was really probably not worth such a long walk. And now I have to do it all again in the other direction. I gather up my tripod and stomp my way back through the village. I now know why people were laughing when I told them where I was going. I grumble to myself that I will check with Dal from now on 1) distances of things on my map, and 2) whether it's bloomin worth it! On the way back through the village, I stop to watch the boys playing their game. They do tell me the name of it but, after repeating it to me three times, I still don't quite catch it. The game consists of a big square board made into a table. It is covered with chalk dust and in each of the four corners is one hole in the table surface (a bit like snooker). There are white and black game pieces which are flicked across the table between the thumb and the middle finger, rebounding off the sides and - hopefully - dropping into a hole. There is one red piece which is the Queen. It looks like quite an addictive game but, although they ask me to play, I still have a loooooong walk back and I need to have some lunch before meeting the Women's Group at 12:30pm.
Just as I reach the bridge again, I hear a tiny voice calling 'Namaste' from the forest to my left. I look through the trees. The little voice keeps calling until eventually I spot the source - a small child, perched half way up a tree. He smiles. Not sure why he's up the tree but he seems happy enough so I smile back and cross the bridge. I hope that was the right decision and he's not still stuck there tonight!
I get back to the guesthouse just before 12:00pm and tuck into some vegetable chow mein. I have finished reading Wild Swans now (very interesting book following three female generations through the cultural revolution in China) and have started reading Light A Penny Candle by Maeve Binchy. Love her stuff.
At 12:30pm, I cross the road over to the path which leads to the Women's Centre where they learn Nepalese, Social Studies, Maths and English - studying the subjects on a rotational basis - for just 2 hours per day. The Women's Centre (or 'school') looks pretty much like an elephant stable, made up of 8 thin pillars with open sides and a straw roof covering. It is not a particularly warm afternoon so I'm quite glad the 'school day' is so short. I make my way over and introduce myself to the 9 women who are attending today. There are usually about 15 per day although attendance very much depends on home life (such as a child's sickness or a husband's drunkenness). The man who has set up this Women's Centre (hereon in referred to as the 'Headmaster') runs a shop at the corner of the road selling baskets and honey. He lets me do what I want today as I don't have a lesson plan prepared so I go round the circle of women and ask them to introduce themselves and tell me their ages. This is done with varying degrees of success. They are all at very different levels. Santi is a confident girl of 22 and sat to my immediate left. She tells me she works very hard to practise her English and as a result ends up interpreting my following questions for the rest of the class. We go around the circle again asking about their families - how many members there are, whether they have children, what jobs do the different family members do etc. Seems that they were all married off as young children so they did not attend school. They can't read or write in Nepalese let alone English but they are eager to learn because of the booming tourist trade. As Santi points out, how can they sell bottled water or souveniers if they can't offer these things in a polite way or work out the correct change. They feel that they need this school very much to survive and become independent. I also learn that most of them are divorced with children (the women range from 19 to 45 years old). As a result of divorce, they have practically been shunned by their families and are desperately trying to support themselves. They hire themselves out as farmhands or do ad hoc cleaning in hotels - but nothing is full-time and jobs come and go. They all really want to better themselves and have a chance to stand on their own two feet like Western women. I feel incredibly lucky (for the umpteenth time in the last few months) about my heritage.
After I have got to know the women and they have relaxed with me, 'school' is signalled as finished and I arrange to meet them tomorrow at 12:30pm for our first English lesson together. I go back with the man who is acting as the Headmaster (he still hasn't introduced himself to me and I keep forgetting to ask his name! lol) and we sit outside his shop chatting about how the school came about. His wife brings us tea mixed with honey which is very nice indeed. The sun is shining and I listen to his story. His brother did very well at school (naturally gifted) and eventually became a Professor in Kathmandu. Over the years, the brothers talked about how wonderful it would be to help the 'lost women' of Sauraha - i.e. the former child brides - who found themselves turfed out of their homes by their families, but through no fault of their own.
Dal got talking to the brother - the Headmaster - one day and agreed to rent out some land which he owned behind this man's house. The women spent three months sitting on the cold ground in the harsh icy wind coming straight from the Himalayas before eventually the brothers had raised enough money to build the 8 pillared structure and roof (about 80 quid). At this point, a volunteer from Denmark who had become disillusioned with her work at a local orphanage offered to come along and teach 'conversational English' to the women. By the end of her trip, she had also paid for and even helped to lay the straw roof (cost of about 15 quid). And so the official 'school' was born. It has been up and running for just under a year now. The brother in Kathmandu advised how to organise it properly (using a register etc), set them up with some contacts in the Government so that they could get school books and then left them to make what they wanted of it. At first, there were approximately 95 women attending regularly - literally spilling out into the surrounding fields - but gradually numbers have dwindled as life here becomes harder. On average, there are about 15 women per day. In the monsoon season (June, July and August) no one comes at all as they are usually busy rebuilding their homes. The Headmaster tells me that these women are really amazing people and so full of life. When the school gets a recognised status (they must have 100 enrolled and regularly attending pupils for this) he wants to call it "The School for Model Women of Sauraha". I think that's lovely.
The Headmaster tells me that the women desperately want to learn handicrafts so that they can sell souveniers and also sewing. I think that's a great idea but he tells me that he has no idea how much sewing machines cost - but he will take me to find out if I am interested in trying to help in the future (he knows I am strapped for cash and continuously tells me that my "time" is more valuable). I tell him that I am definitely interested and I would be happy to accompany him when we have a chance. We finish our honey tea and he takes me on a tour of his shop, obviously very proud of his baskets which he makes by hand in 1-2 days flat. I tease him and tell him that isn't possible and he barks at his wife who appears with some straw and a bowl of water. Seconds later, he has started making a basket and tells me that when I come for school tomorrow, he will be finished. His wife takes an opportunity to show off her talents also and brings out some beautiful flower stands she has made using banana leaf, and some bracelets made of 'holy wood'. I think they're so pretty, and made of natural and recycled materials - I wonder whether they would go down well at the markets in the UK? I really wish I had the contacts and savvy to make something like this possible. I've been thinking about it since seeing all those beautiful paper bead jewellery in Africa. How can I get it to the UK and sell it on? With all profits going to these two organisations I've come into contact with. Answers on a postcard please!
The wife's creations
Finally our chat winds down and with the cold evening drawing in quickly, I head down to the internet cafe to update my Blog (hey there!). I am determined not to make the same mistake as last night and am actually aiming to get home before dark this time. Finding myself at the opposite end of the village to where I am staying without a headtorch at 9:00pm last night was not at all fun. I have no idea how much elephant poop I stepped in but I could probably make quite a few bookmarks if I tried ...
Yesterday I bought a map of the local area and discovered that a Shiva temple is quite close by. I figure it is about a 10 minute walk so at 8:00am I have my breakfast (porridge again) and after a boiling hot shower (bliss!) I set off. I walk through the elephant camp and out the other side, along some tiny dusty paths and onto larger roads, through a few village settlements, into a forest and out the other side. I look at my phone to check the time and realise I have been walking for just under an hour. My map reading never was any good. I ask a woman passing by on a bicycle if the Shiva temple is in this direction and she giggles with an imaginary friend and says "yes, you go, you go". I carry on walking. The ground has now become very rocky and I stumble a few times. I am quite sure I would have a sprained ankle if it wasn't for my strudy trekking shoes. I stop to buy some bookmarks made out of elephant dung paper. I've been looking for this little shop everywhere after hearing about it. They have such nice things - I'll definitely be back.
A typical Tharu house
Local orphanage
Mange ridden dog
Holy cow! :-p
Village cutie
Making my way through various villages
A little further up the road I find that I am walking alongside a river. I scratch my head. I don't remember this on my map but I can't check to be sure because - clever me - I've of course left the map back at the guesthouse. The road bends to cross a bridge. There is no other turning, and nor can I go straight ahead but I can't see any sign of life anywhere.I decide to cross the bridge. A man with a horse and cart is coming in the opposite direction so I ask again whether I am still going in the right direction for the temple. He smiles and nods. I plod on.
Crossing the bridge - "Are we nearly there yet?"
The cart and horse man
Eventually, after yet another trek through another bit of forest, I reach a small village. There are some boys gathered around a raised table (about waist height) playing some sort of game. I ask them about the temple. They all laugh and talk in Nepalese before confirming that I should just keep going straight. After a further 10 minutes or so, I have to ask again because it really doesn't seem as though I'm getting anywhere. A woman in front of her house making a mat tells me "that corner, you go" and points ahead of me. Yay! I've made it! It has taken me nearly an hour and a half and, despite the cold and fog, I'm starting to get hot and bothered. I quicken my pace, eager to see the reward of my determined walk. I round the corner, camera at the ready, holding my breath. I stare ahead of me. I blink. I rub my eyes. I blink again. In front of me is a low wall enclosing the entrance (through a rusty old broken gate practically hanging off it's hinges) to a 'garden' that is actually better described as mud with leftover building materials scattered around. And in pride and place at the centre of this enclosure is what I assume to the Shiva temple. It is a very modest building and really nothing at all to write home about - no seriously, at all. My guesthouse is nicer. Where are the ornate carvings? The unique age old architecture? The bursting colours? It definitely has none of this. Just to be absolutely sure, I ask some passing children if this is in fact the temple. They say yes and then in the same breath demand that I take their photograph.
Ta-da! The temple in all it's glory. What do you mean "is that it"?
Woo ....... hoo
The demanding kiddies
Well, I'm gutted. That was really probably not worth such a long walk. And now I have to do it all again in the other direction. I gather up my tripod and stomp my way back through the village. I now know why people were laughing when I told them where I was going. I grumble to myself that I will check with Dal from now on 1) distances of things on my map, and 2) whether it's bloomin worth it! On the way back through the village, I stop to watch the boys playing their game. They do tell me the name of it but, after repeating it to me three times, I still don't quite catch it. The game consists of a big square board made into a table. It is covered with chalk dust and in each of the four corners is one hole in the table surface (a bit like snooker). There are white and black game pieces which are flicked across the table between the thumb and the middle finger, rebounding off the sides and - hopefully - dropping into a hole. There is one red piece which is the Queen. It looks like quite an addictive game but, although they ask me to play, I still have a loooooong walk back and I need to have some lunch before meeting the Women's Group at 12:30pm.
Boys at play
Just as I reach the bridge again, I hear a tiny voice calling 'Namaste' from the forest to my left. I look through the trees. The little voice keeps calling until eventually I spot the source - a small child, perched half way up a tree. He smiles. Not sure why he's up the tree but he seems happy enough so I smile back and cross the bridge. I hope that was the right decision and he's not still stuck there tonight!
Child up a tree - amazing what you find on country walks ain't it?
Big bug
I get back to the guesthouse just before 12:00pm and tuck into some vegetable chow mein. I have finished reading Wild Swans now (very interesting book following three female generations through the cultural revolution in China) and have started reading Light A Penny Candle by Maeve Binchy. Love her stuff.
At 12:30pm, I cross the road over to the path which leads to the Women's Centre where they learn Nepalese, Social Studies, Maths and English - studying the subjects on a rotational basis - for just 2 hours per day. The Women's Centre (or 'school') looks pretty much like an elephant stable, made up of 8 thin pillars with open sides and a straw roof covering. It is not a particularly warm afternoon so I'm quite glad the 'school day' is so short. I make my way over and introduce myself to the 9 women who are attending today. There are usually about 15 per day although attendance very much depends on home life (such as a child's sickness or a husband's drunkenness). The man who has set up this Women's Centre (hereon in referred to as the 'Headmaster') runs a shop at the corner of the road selling baskets and honey. He lets me do what I want today as I don't have a lesson plan prepared so I go round the circle of women and ask them to introduce themselves and tell me their ages. This is done with varying degrees of success. They are all at very different levels. Santi is a confident girl of 22 and sat to my immediate left. She tells me she works very hard to practise her English and as a result ends up interpreting my following questions for the rest of the class. We go around the circle again asking about their families - how many members there are, whether they have children, what jobs do the different family members do etc. Seems that they were all married off as young children so they did not attend school. They can't read or write in Nepalese let alone English but they are eager to learn because of the booming tourist trade. As Santi points out, how can they sell bottled water or souveniers if they can't offer these things in a polite way or work out the correct change. They feel that they need this school very much to survive and become independent. I also learn that most of them are divorced with children (the women range from 19 to 45 years old). As a result of divorce, they have practically been shunned by their families and are desperately trying to support themselves. They hire themselves out as farmhands or do ad hoc cleaning in hotels - but nothing is full-time and jobs come and go. They all really want to better themselves and have a chance to stand on their own two feet like Western women. I feel incredibly lucky (for the umpteenth time in the last few months) about my heritage.
The Women's Centre / school
After I have got to know the women and they have relaxed with me, 'school' is signalled as finished and I arrange to meet them tomorrow at 12:30pm for our first English lesson together. I go back with the man who is acting as the Headmaster (he still hasn't introduced himself to me and I keep forgetting to ask his name! lol) and we sit outside his shop chatting about how the school came about. His wife brings us tea mixed with honey which is very nice indeed. The sun is shining and I listen to his story. His brother did very well at school (naturally gifted) and eventually became a Professor in Kathmandu. Over the years, the brothers talked about how wonderful it would be to help the 'lost women' of Sauraha - i.e. the former child brides - who found themselves turfed out of their homes by their families, but through no fault of their own.
Dal got talking to the brother - the Headmaster - one day and agreed to rent out some land which he owned behind this man's house. The women spent three months sitting on the cold ground in the harsh icy wind coming straight from the Himalayas before eventually the brothers had raised enough money to build the 8 pillared structure and roof (about 80 quid). At this point, a volunteer from Denmark who had become disillusioned with her work at a local orphanage offered to come along and teach 'conversational English' to the women. By the end of her trip, she had also paid for and even helped to lay the straw roof (cost of about 15 quid). And so the official 'school' was born. It has been up and running for just under a year now. The brother in Kathmandu advised how to organise it properly (using a register etc), set them up with some contacts in the Government so that they could get school books and then left them to make what they wanted of it. At first, there were approximately 95 women attending regularly - literally spilling out into the surrounding fields - but gradually numbers have dwindled as life here becomes harder. On average, there are about 15 women per day. In the monsoon season (June, July and August) no one comes at all as they are usually busy rebuilding their homes. The Headmaster tells me that these women are really amazing people and so full of life. When the school gets a recognised status (they must have 100 enrolled and regularly attending pupils for this) he wants to call it "The School for Model Women of Sauraha". I think that's lovely.
The Headmaster tells me that the women desperately want to learn handicrafts so that they can sell souveniers and also sewing. I think that's a great idea but he tells me that he has no idea how much sewing machines cost - but he will take me to find out if I am interested in trying to help in the future (he knows I am strapped for cash and continuously tells me that my "time" is more valuable). I tell him that I am definitely interested and I would be happy to accompany him when we have a chance. We finish our honey tea and he takes me on a tour of his shop, obviously very proud of his baskets which he makes by hand in 1-2 days flat. I tease him and tell him that isn't possible and he barks at his wife who appears with some straw and a bowl of water. Seconds later, he has started making a basket and tells me that when I come for school tomorrow, he will be finished. His wife takes an opportunity to show off her talents also and brings out some beautiful flower stands she has made using banana leaf, and some bracelets made of 'holy wood'. I think they're so pretty, and made of natural and recycled materials - I wonder whether they would go down well at the markets in the UK? I really wish I had the contacts and savvy to make something like this possible. I've been thinking about it since seeing all those beautiful paper bead jewellery in Africa. How can I get it to the UK and sell it on? With all profits going to these two organisations I've come into contact with. Answers on a postcard please!
Wetting the straw to begin making the basket
Winding banana leaf around the straw
Taking shape ...
Not the finished product but one similar
The wife's creations
Finally our chat winds down and with the cold evening drawing in quickly, I head down to the internet cafe to update my Blog (hey there!). I am determined not to make the same mistake as last night and am actually aiming to get home before dark this time. Finding myself at the opposite end of the village to where I am staying without a headtorch at 9:00pm last night was not at all fun. I have no idea how much elephant poop I stepped in but I could probably make quite a few bookmarks if I tried ...
Reading by candlelight before bed
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