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Aura Comm - Vol 4 - Issue 2
Kathmandu, Nepal
January 21, 2005
Nameste,
The rather hard landing in Kathmandu all ways brings a wry smile to my face. This old city boasts the shortest runway in the world. So when your plane touches the tarmac the pedal hits the metal immediately...
I bundle up expecting a severe chill as I exit the plane and to my surprise I am awash in the comforting glow of the Nepali sun. Hey, not bad I thought. I can handle this. No problem.I mean come on; this is the Himalayas smack dab in the middle of the winter. I had been warned to be prepared for a bone chilling cold...
As usual there are machine gun toting soldiers everywhere ready for action. They mean serious business, as this civil war torn country is ripe with frustration. Not with foreigners but against the King himself. What is not commonly reported is that most all of the Eastern portion of Nepal is now in complete control of the Maoists. These Nepali "freedom fighters" as they see it are, among other reasons, attempting to eliminate the caste system here which is painfully oppressive, especially towards women. Because of these unbearable hardships on the poor in numerous remote villages with little chance for any position in life, many women from as young as 15 have joined their racks and become hard core soldiers with Russian AK47s strapped across their back. Some of these determined young girls actually lead the violent raids on government soldiers. It is so sad that it has come to this much suffering in the land of enlightenment. I pray for some resolution for these fine people.
Anyway, as these thoughts fly through my head I am off for the mad dash to get through immigration and customs. Upon presenting my papers the Newari official took a deep look at me and muttered something in broken English about my visa being incorrect. He left for over five minutes, spoke with a higher up, and as they both kept looking back at me I must admit I started to get a little nervous. The officials at the airport are somewhat courteous but the way they operate is somewhat loose here. (For those of you who followed my adventure here 2 years ago know, as I walked through the airport I was randomly selected for an intense baggage search and they were not pleased. Immediately escorted to a back room by two armed soldiers, my bag was confiscated because I brought in too much jewelry from India. I had to pay bribes to 3 officials to ultimately get them back a week later. Learned a very good lesson. Always have "folded money"? in your pocket.)
You see the government has set very strict limits on what you can bring into the country. One camera, $2000US dollars maximum, no extra CD players and so on (If caught the items are taken and folks can be subject to prosecution.) Well, of course I have 2 personal cameras and two new ones for my students as well as 3 CD players. And let's just say I was quite a bit over the money limit. So with by best face forward (and extra money secretly tucked in my pants) I grab my bags and while looking every official in the eye with a smile, I boldly walk through the customs green channel without a hitch.
With great anticipation I eagerly look for my dear friends Shyam, Rashmi and her father who always greet me at the airport with a garland of flowers and a Tibetan kata scarf. As I exit the terminal as usual I am immediately swamped by a chaotic group of young people clamoring to carry my bags and offering a ride. There is no system really in place here for this. It is a mad free for all and you've got to hang onto to those bags tight or off they go. I stop and look all around and no one is there to pick me up. I wait for 40 minutes constantly fending off the sharks. What could have happened I wondered? (They have no phone of course.) Finally decided to take a cab to my guesthouse. As we drive out the airport entrance past hordes of soldiers, tanks and machine gun pill boxes, I see Rashmi and her father waiting for me out side the gate. I shout for the driver to stop and they hop in. It seems the government has now placed very strict rules on how close the people can come to their own airport. They felt very bad that they could not greet me and I assured them everything was fine. It was so wonderful to see them again.
Honking and bouncing through the absolutely chaotic and foul-smelling streets of Kathmandu was actually a warm experience. For the life of me I do not understand why I love this part of the world so much. This tiny kingdom of 26 million people is considered the poorest in the world per capita. Most of this area is quite unsanitary and extremely polluted. For some reason I feel like I belong here.
Arriving at the Shechen Monastery guesthouse, I am warmly greeted by Mr. Tashi and the entire staff who remember me fondly. That was a very nice experience I must say. They saved my favorite room just for me and thankfully located a little heater. (Considered a luxury here. Hardly anyone I know has heat, running water or a real toilet.)
Within minutes, Little Shyam (a 17 year old student I've sponsored for almost 3 years now) arrives at the guesthouse with deep regrets he too could not meet me at the airport as he just returned from his sister's village some 4 hours away. He quietly informs me the Maoists stormed his bus and he had no choice but to sleep in the vehicle in frigid cold with no food for 3 days. Expressing little emotion he simply thought he was going to die. When government soldiers arrive to take care of business, in his own words he says he witnessed a river of blood as 30 Maoists, many young girls, are killed. Very, very bad he says with a painfully contorted face. (Amnesty International criticizes both sides for severe human rights abuses.) Appearing completely exhausted and developing a dark cough I am compelled to stare at the glazed traumatized look on his face. I do my best to stay strong for him and hold back my tears. He will not return to his village again, as the stress is simply too much. What to do, he says. I immediately request a traditional Nepali meal from the guesthouse kitchen and he shovels it up it huge scoops. He feels much better right away.
You see my friends; this is a day in a life for far too many people here. We do not have a clue of such day-to-day struggles and suffering. Through the sales of the imported jewelry this gentle soul has been going to school now for 3 years and is in the top of his class. I am so proud of him. He is so intelligent and gracious, never letting go of his dream of becoming an engineer. But truly his future is grim and it breaks my heart.
Rashmi too shares her deep sadness at not being approved for a student-exchange visa she has been trying to acquire for many months. She has put her entire being into making this happen and after all her grueling efforts with financial aid from her beloved sponsor Linda, she was unable to overcome all the tremendous obstacles. I tell her to stay brave and not give up. For you see, she is keenly aware of her condition and desperately wants to become educated in America, get a good job and help her family. The classic American dream. Her father sold the family's only means of transportation, his motorcycle, and used those funds to help get her paperwork approved. All of this was to no avail. Now he has nothing more to offer and is feeling quite hopeless.
Doing my best to lighten their spirits, I break out the gifts and surprise Shyam with a CD-player, as he loves traditional Nepali music and always dreamed of having one. Rashmi receives a new digital camera with a great glee. (The one I gave her last year was stolen recently. She was heartbroken over that.) Many photos of my granddaughter and new grandson are cheerfully selected. 3rd Force t-shirts are passed out. Dried fruit was presented for her family. With great enthusiasm they talk about school classes and share their accomplishments as time quickly passes into a star lit evening. Hailing them a cab, I clasp my hands in prayer saying nameste and they are off into the chilling night.
Ok. Now I get it. It is staring to get cold. I mean real cold. It's a cold deep inside your bones. Quite different than even what I was used to back in Michigan as a child. I fire up the halogen heater in my room ready for a warm cozy nights sleep. Uh. The heat output is about as effective as a hundred watt bulb. Good gawd. So on goes the new silk long johns I received from Chris and Jesa for Christmas. Thank you! Then I hurriedly put on the silk shirt from Lani. Thank you! Then two more pants, a cashmere sweater and a cap over my head as I dive under the heavy thick blankets. I must admit for a while it seemed none of this mattered, but soon I became drowsy listening to the drone of the Tibetan monk's evening prayers next door. I felt a warm smile break my frozen face. I am privileged to be here and deeply grateful for it.
The next morning it is still very cold. I was starting to wonder whether I could adjust to this. I bundled up and off I go to the Bodhnath to circumambulate with the throng of Tibetans. As I take each step mindfully round and round this venerated spire, the rising sun warmed the chill air to a bearable temperature.
Rashmi's father picks me up on a borrowed motorcycle and off we go negotiating the dance of traffic into the old city. This is an extraordinary ride that must be experienced to be fully appreciated. Absolute pandemonium of vehicles honking, extremely overcrowded buses, pot-holed roads the size of a craters, with cows lying anywhere they please. For some reason this all seemed quite normal to me now and I easily let go.
Bouncing and weaving our way through muddy back alleys we arrive at the humble home and production facility of my favorite jewelry designers, Ishor, Kiran and Kissor. These three Nepali Buddhist brothers are quite industrious and operate a successful family business with their mother and employ nine. All are fairly treated and taken care of. Working conditions are good, especially by 3rd world standards. No child labor or women in servitude. It is very important to check your sources extremely well so you can do business with integrity. You would not believe how many people are tragically taken advantage here. It is truly pathetic.
They warmly greet me with a hearty nameste and as I walk up the tiny dark-lit stairs to the 3rd floor of their flat I immediately become overwhelmed with the feeling that this is what I am supposed to be doing right here and now. You see I have never found any occupation to rival my passion for music before. This is fun stuff people, and deeply rewarding. These wonderful peace-loving folks seem to genuinely care for me. I know its business, but there is something going on more than that. They want to teach me design they say, and for the next 5 1/2 hours non-stop they proceed to do just that. The passage of time felt like 15 minutes to me. Delightful design concepts, one after another were presented and discussed. Elements from one were combined with another. Protypes created on the spot. Their selection of stones is nothing short of spectacular, maybe some of the finest in the world. I had to pinch myself to make sure I was not dreaming. Wait until you see what we have come up with! Stay tuned.
Copyright © 2005 William Aura/Aura Imports All Rights Reserved.
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