KATHMaNDU DAYS No 3

KATHMANDU DAYS No3

Holi/St David’s Day/Milarepa’s Millenary, full moon

Fulmaya stayed at her sister’s last night and is walking around Bouddha Stupa this morning.  She phones me.  I miss the call.  I call back three times but she doesn’t answer.  It’s 7am and the sun’s been up for an hour.

Things are complicated here.  Better to have no expectations except to prepare for the unexpected.

It’s Holi.  Out on the street the kids have started to throw colours on each other.  The dogs bark and some are stained red, blue, green and yellow.   Young boys are forming gangs and looking for girls to attack with small purpose-made balloons filled with the coloured water.  Jitu, whose house I’m staying in, tells his two young sons that the powder is lead based and they shouldn’t be using it.  They don’t listen and carry on filling the balloons with water adding pinches of coloured powder through the neck of the balloons.  Jitu has already turned away to occupy himself with some other matter of pressing importance on his phone.

Jitu’s son Mingmar

I try to contact a friend who used to live in Edinburgh, Kishor Dongol.  He is helping to produce a play in French, The Pearl by Guy de Maupassant.  The incongruity of a French play in Nepal doesn’t seem to register.  But then I remember seeing a British Council production of The Three penny Opera in the Vajra Hotel in Kathmandu years ago.  Kishor is also a professional photographer and had taken photographs of the earthquake that hit Nepal two years ago.  I am trying to arrange for some of his photographs to be included in an exhibition planned for Coburg House Art Studios during the Edinburgh Festival.  As with all plans here, they have the potential to leave us naught but grief and pain for promise joy if we take them too seriously. We arrange to meet at a café the next day in an area called Chuchchepatti.  The café is run by staff who are deaf.  I feel that this plan will change several times by tomorrow.  [Surprisingly, it doesn’t.]

PM.  Fulmaya and I go off to Flavours Café in Bouddha.  As today is a special day ­– the one thousandth anniversary of the birth of Milarepa, a Tibetan Buddhist saint, my muse – she buys me a little gold plated statue of him sitting cross-legged with one hand behind his ear listening for inspiration from the cosmos.  Somewhere on my bookshelf at home I have the One Hundred Thousand Songs of Milarepa.  I had read some of them and became aware very soon of the tautologous nature of the songs.  There’s no limit to how many ways you can express your love of life, but the words available with which to do this are surely limited.

Milarepa

We reach the café and sitting round the table are my Fulmaya’s two sisters and their husbands, arrived from New York.  One of the sisters runs an outlet wholesaling goods from India and Nepal, mostly clothes.  They’re here to pick up goods from various distributers. Many of the outlets in Kathmandu are closed today and her husband looks relieved. 

We order and drink coffee served by a dwarf whose head is just above the level of the table.  She has a pleasant smile and looks around 30 years old, but it’s hard to tell.

In my pocket I have about Rs 500 in five rupee notes to give to the beggars who are crowded round the stupa outside the café.  Each note is worth around 5 pence.  As well as being Milarepa’s birthday, Holi and a full moon, this is a day when it is auspicious to be generous to the less fortunate.

Outside sitting on the ground are the amputees, the blind, the widows with children, the flotsam and jetsam washed up at Bouddha Stupa to collect their donations from the people who circumambulate the prayer wheels.  At random I give to whom I consider to be the neediest:  the man who walks on all fours; another pushing a wheelchair with limbs awry; a woman surrounded by several children, filthy and dressed in rags.

Later, back at the house, Donny the youngest son of the family, takes me up on to the flat roof of the house and offers me a splif from a large bag of ganja.  He tells me he has harvested it from an organic farm where it has been cultivated in a field.  “It might taste of potatoes,” he warns me.  This is the first I’ve had in years.  I manage a few puffs but that is enough.  I leave it lying on the parapet in case I decide to return later.

So this is a part of my third day in Kathmandu.  I read about the snow and winds in the UK and glad to be where I am for the time being but know that the sun, the noise, the crowds, the pollution, the chaos, the pandemonium, the car horns and bicycle bells and the dust will affect me in the end and I’ll be ready to return home.  Until then, let the days pass by.

                  

With Fulmaya at the stupa

ANOTHER DAY IN THE LOAF

Set off out and on to the morning streets.  Already the air is swirling up a heat and the noise of the traffic penetrates the ears. There is half an intention to look for things that are not normally found on the streets of Edinburgh:  but even if I stand still on the pavements and look around me for a couple of minutes, there are a myriad of things happening that are unique to K’du.

MAKING MATTRESSES EARLY IN THE MORNING

The first impression is one of movement – nothing is still.  People appear to be punch-drunk with the noise and commotion and beyond the next step seem unaware of what’s around them. 

People sell things. Some might specialise in wool, another in electrical goods like fridges and TVs; rope-sellers; purveyors of rucksacks and bags; suppliers of rice and other grains; someone is selling the little tags for zips – no, not the zips themselves, just the little tags that frustratingly sometimes break off.

 

WHAT'S MOTHER UP TO NOW!

Unless they had escaped from a slaughter house and were hungry enough to eat the discarded out-of-date food dumped at the back of a supermarket, it would be very, very, extraordinally unusual to see a cows at a dump foraging for scraps of food.  These holy animals are considered to be not just cattle but your mother.  How that logic is accomplished has something to do with the Ramayana and advice given through the mouthpiece of a Brahmin priest to preserve your milk-giving cow in case of a drought.  Somehow, through time, the cow became like your mother, presumably having the same function as giving life-nourishing milk in time of need.  (The same twisted logic advises that if you eat pickle with dahi (curd) your cow will get an ulcer on its udder.)

For sure another thing you won’t see is a large prayer wheel which I often spin a Boudha, a stupa around which one walks around three-times twice a day, early morning and evening.  Old Tibetans are still struggling their way around the stupa but often stop for a rest and a chat.  How civilised, how enjoyable, how friendly.

OM MANI PEME HUM PRAYER WHEE.

OLD FOLKS GET TOGETHER

Lastly, I’m visiting my swimming poole at Club Mosses.  Don’t ask me how you pronounce it – with a voiced z or an unvoiced s. 

SURROUNDED BY STAFF WHO WANT TO LEARN ENGLISH

I didn't mention my visit with the sadhus or the cremation.  But that's anther story.

ME WITH SOME FRIENDS

HOLI

होली 

HOLI...SHOPKEEPERS JOIN IN THE FUN

It's that time of year again.  There's a restaurant in Edinburgh called Holi Corner, echoing the name of crossroads to the south of the city called Holy Corner:   the latter named because there are four-churches, one at each corner; the former - well, it's named for the festival of Holi, though how many understand the allusion is debatable.

This is the time of year when the young - and some of the old - decide to throw coloured water at each other, usually boys at girls and girls at boys.  Gangs roam the streets looking for victims while others stand on rooftops, ready to drop water-filled balloons and buckets of water on passers-by.  There's a whole Hindu legend behind the festival, but the main idea is that this is to mark the beginning of spring

RADHA AND THE GOPIS CELEBRATING HOLI

Today is hot, not just warm like previous days, but a slight breeze makes us thankful that there is some relief from the heat.  Years ago, I celebrated Holi in Anandapur, a village in the Terai to the south east of the country.  In the village galvanised buckets of bhang  were prepared, ganja mixed with milk.  The celebrations lasted three-days.  Drums were played continuously for the whole time till you thought you would never regain your sanity.  Perhaps I didn't.  Things seems rather tame here compared to then.

Below are some images of the street festival:

HAPPY HOLI

A DAY IN THE LOAF

A DAY IN THE LOAF

LIFE IS HARD FOR SOME IN KATHMANDU

Every day begins the same – a slight chill in the morning followed by a gradual warming of the air.  An occasional, lonely cloud floats by as if searching for its companions.  Noises take on a purpose:  the sound of the sweeper in the garden brushing the detritus from the paths; hacking coughs from the neighbour; the dogs down the road barking at an beggar; the roar of a passing plane; the hollow sound of someone chopping wood; tinkling bells in the breeze; the early morning buzzing of bees around the flowers. 

On the walk to the Boudha Stupa I pass Pigeon Man.  Pigeon Man appears savage and totally crazy.  He lives temporarily on a stretch of earth beside a wall.  He’s plucking a pigeon and I ask him, Are you going to build a fire? 

A fire…a fire!  He looks guilty and shouts at me.  He poses and I take a couple of photos.  Thirty rupees he demands.  I offer ten-rupees but he insists on thirty.  I give him the thirty and pass on thinking the photo of this madman was worth it.

PIGEON MAN WITH PLUCKED PIGEON

At the stupa I climb the steps for a closer look at the eyes.  The prayer flags seem new and were probably put up for lohsar, the Tibetan new year.  

THE EYES SEE ALL

Returning to the house in Chuchchepati, a little girl stares at me.  She’s trying on a pair of adult croks.  Why do little girls do this and not little boys? I wonder.  Her curious, wondering eyes present me with her perfect expression of innocence.

SWEET GIRL IN CROkS

Back to Boudha and I enter a store that sells dvds and cds, all pirated.  The films come in at under £1 but some are as cheap as 25p.  Buy a few titles:  Amour which won the Palme D’or at the Festival De Cannes in 2012; Himalaya, a film by Eric Valli that I saw years ago and remember mostly for the incredible accompanying music to the dramatic scenes around the remote region of Dolpo.; Robin Williams in Man of the Year.  The cover has Robin Williams wearing a ridiculous 17-century wig.  One of my favourite actors, Cristopher Walken, is also in the cast; Kathmandu, well, about a young girl who comes to teach in Kathmandu in the early 90s.  The film is Spanish and is about her discovering the poverty and the disillusionment of the young with the educational system.

ALL THE DVDS

Then back to Boudha to watch the pigeons flying around and eating the grain which is for sale nearby.  These ones, in contrast to the one I saw in the morning, are very much alive.

FLYING PIGEONS

In Boudha around the stupa, tourists, fresh from snowy climes, now lobster-skinned and drooping fat from boobs and moobs and with streams of sweat rivulating over scarlet cheeks, lurch around, looking into shops and taking photographs of each other in front of the stupa.

We pass the big bell where some women are doing their private ceremony inside it.  Then on to Ringu Tulku Rinpoche’s house where we take a couple who have come from Devon and are busy back home publishing and distributing RTR’s books.  We’re shown round the studio at the back of the house where Salga, RTR’s brother produces his art work, then it’s on to my brother-in-law’s house for food.  I try to learn the card game Marriage, but the rules and convoluted and I cannot grasp the logic behind the awarding of points at the end.  Nepalese seem to be addicted to this game and wager high stakes.

Finally, we break up and I finish with a glass of Laphroig and another of Bhutanese whisky which tastes very good.  Must be the purity of the water they use to make the whisky in Bhutan.

ART WORK ON THE GO:  A THANGA

IDEAL SCHOOL

IDEAL SCHOOL

From 1987 till 1989 I was the manager of Adarshya Uchamadyemik Bidyalaya, or Ideal Boarding School, set in a peaceful lane on the outskirts of Kathmandu.  At that time there were about 450 students ranging from Kindergarten to Class 10.  Ideal was established in 1981 by Fulmaya Lama, my wife.  Being only the second woman in Nepal to establish a school, this was a pioneering venture which helped to set the benchmark for other women to advance the cause of education in Nepal.

At that time, and also to a large extent nowadays, the government schools were badly run with overcrowded classrooms, unqualified teachers who thought little of taking time off and unhygienic facilities with little thought given for the academic success of the students.  Consequently, privately run schools were welcomed and parents who had the wherewithal to send their children to private schools instead of government-run schools did so, many in the process making great sacrifices for the education of their children.

Now, having visited the school which is now run by Fulmaya’s brother, Purna Lama, I can see that great changes have been made, there being 920 pupils in total with classes running from kindergarten to class 12.  (In Nepal, the School Leaving Certificate (SLC) is taken in class 10:  classes 11 and 12 are called Higher Secondary.

Apart from the development of the physical environment with more classrooms, added administrative space and an outdoor swimming pool, the curriculum has ad also been expanded to include courses in Nepalese Culture,  Environmental Science, and Social Studies as well as there being facilities for the study of Computer Science with an up-to-date suite of  computers.

Boarding facilities are also available with live-in maids, study hall, dinaing hall and recreation room.  Medical facilities are also available through a registered medical practitionper.

Extra-Curricular Activities are also well-catered for with four intramural houses competing in Debate, Impromptu Speech, Elocution, Essay Writing, Singing, Dancing, Etc.  There is also the Ideal Club membership of which entitles the students to participate in Needle Work, Fabric Painting, Computer Science, Drama, Bagpipes, Yoga, Environmental Training, Sports and Games.

Yes!  Great changes have been made to the school since we were last involved.

When Fulmaya and I ran the school, we had a registered charity in Scotland called Educaid Nepal Trust and we had sponsorships for around 80-pupils at any one time.  The sponsors came mainly from UK and America though we also had sponsors from Australia and Germany.  Nowadays, the school has around 40-pupils who are being subsidised by the regular fee-paying parents, although attempts are being made to identify others who may be facing hardship in providing the fees for their children to study at Ideal.

Following is a description of some of some of the pupils who are in need of sponsorship with a brief description of their circumstances.  

Ang Tshering Sherpa

Ang Tshering is 12-years old and is reading in class 5.  He is the brother of Mingma Sherpa and is doing well in his studies.  His favourite subject is maths and he enjoys football.  His father runs a small business and his mother is a housewife.

Dipa Bhandari

Dipa Bhandari is 14-years old and is reading in 
class 4.  She is the sister of Rupa Bhandari 
and enjoys Maths. She would like to be a teacher when she leaves school.  Her father has a small job from which he earns very little money while her mother runs the home

Kabita Tamang

Kabita Tamang is 12-years old and attends class 6.  She has one younger brother and her father is a driver while her mother is a housewife.  Kabita's favourite subject is English and she would like to be a doctor when she is older.

Mingma Sherpa

Mingma is 15-years old.  She has two-younger brothers, one of whom is Ang Tshering.  Her father runs a small business.  Mingma's favourite subject is science and she would like to be a social worker when she completes her studies.

Rupa Bhandari

Rupa is 11-years old and is reading in class 4.  She is the sister of Dipa.  Her father is a small business man.  Her favourite subject is Nepali and she would like to be a teacher when she grows up.

Siddhartha Niraula

Siddhartha is 7-years old and is studying in class 1. His sister is 8-years old.  Siddhartha's father is a driver and his mother runs the home.  His favourite subject is Nepali and he would like to be a doctor when he completes his education.

Smriti Sapkota

Smriti is 10-years old and is in class 2.  She has an 8-year old brother.  Her father is a watchman and her mother stays at home.  Her favourite subject is English and she would eventually like to be a doctor.






If you would like to sponsor any of these children please contact the Principle, Purna Lama at Ideal School. (http://www.ideal.edu.np/)  The children above are amongst the most needy children in the school although there are others in   need of financial help.  Should there be more than one sponsorship award for a particular pupil, another pupil in similar circumstances will be assigned. 

The monthly fee-structure is as follows:

CLASSES 1-3          £12.70     (£152.40/year)

CLASSES 4-7          £14.18     (£170.16/year)

CLASSES 8-10        £17.80     (£213.60/year)

The cost per pupil for sundry equipment such as pencils, uniform, stationery, etc. is £74.60 per annum.

The new session begins in April, 2013


The following literacy rates are taken from http://www.indexmundi.com 

definition: age 15 and over can read and write
total population: 48.6%
male: 62.7%
female: 34.9% 

BHAKTAPUR

LAXMI 

BHAKTAPUR

The ancient Newar city of Bhaktapur lies on the outskirts of Kathmandu at a distance of about 12-kilometers.  Many years ago, I would travel there by trolley bus from Tripureshwar, a silent and ecologically sound way to journey then.  At the bottom of the hill on which the ancient city stands is Surya Vinayak. Thirty years ago there were fields and a few tea shops, the silence broken occasionally by the passing of trucks taking bricks from the factories to the city of Kathmandu or by buses taking travelers further east to trekking routes.

Being one of three capital cities of Nepal, the others being Kathmandu and Kirtipur, Bhaktapur is an open museum.  Mostly built by the Mallas in the 15-century, the quality of the artwork in stone, metal and wood is beyond compare.  In fact, the forms of architecture constitute a poetic statement for visitors to see and appreciate.

The name refers to the city of devotees and there are crafts that are continued with the same methods that were used in ancient times:  basket weaving, pottery, carving and music.

SHIVA LINGA

However, I did live in Bhaktapur for a short time while on the Shree Paach Maharajdhiraj Mahendra Bir Bikram Shah Dev scholarship award for foreign students in the early eighties and enjoyed a stroll around Durbar square where I'd bump into students I taught English to as a supplement to the meagre grant I received from the Nepalese Government.  Now, standing at the gate, a sign said Rs1100 entry fee for foreigners.  I didn't have that amount on me so I went to the desk and told the girl there I lived in Nepal and could a waiver not be made. 

No, she replied. All foreigners have to pay.

I started to walk around the periphery intending to walk through the old town but I was stopped.  You'll have to pay the fee, a man told me.

But I'm not going through the gate, I told him.  I just want to walk through the town.  And then I realised that I should have paid an entrance fee at the bottom of the hill at Surya Vinayak.  

The city still sits there, renovated by the Germans and waiting till the next time I arrive, carrying the entrance fee.

CARVING ON PART OF A DOOR

MO MO A GO GO

MO MOS ARE ADDICTIVE

There's no doubt about it, once tasted, never forgotten.  Personally speaking, the best mo mos to be had are at Dharara in Kathmandu.  Legend has it that Jung Bahadur Rana, a former ruler of Nepal, took his horse up to the top of the tower and goaded the horse into jumping off.  The horse died and JBR survived. His name is also used for home-made alcohol, Have a glass of Jung Bahadur or give yourself some courage. 

At the mo mo counter next to the tower you buy a voucher and go to a nearby kitchen where you'll be served in one-minute with a plate of hot mo mos in a kind of spicy sauce with peanuts.  There is a range of non-veg mo mos and noodles.  Try them next time you're here.

Dharara