Rice harvest
Nepal's rice harvest is almost finished. On the flat cobbles in front of temples and shrines piles of grain lie on plastic sheets to dry. No associated blessing accompanies this placement as I'd assumed, thinking of the blessing of first fruits or the blessing of the fleet. It is simply a matter of making use of an open and warm space. In the fields bundles of rice straw are carefully arranged in solid cylinders about 6'wide and 6' tall, coming to a point in the center topped with a decorative marigold branch. What is it about the flowing lines of terraced rice fields that stir the heart? The infinite shades of green or gold, the notion of fecundity, the foreignness of the organic lines to western eyes? Rice fields dominate Kathmandu's eastern valley. The middle distance is thick jungle or forest, while snow sharpens the distant peaks. Viewing the cold, forbidding, far horizon framed by graceful banana leaves puts the scene into another world.
Yeti Air
Thursday morning I flew Yeti Air from Kathmandu to Biratnagar in the SE of Nepal to visit the BP Koirala Institute of Health Sciences in Dharan. Kathmandu's small domestic terminal was filled with trekkers, primarily "geared-to-go" middle aged Europeans or young travelers in their 20s, flying to distant base camps to begin their treks. The quality of the PA system made announcements incomprehensible, so everyone crowded around the airport staff near the gate, afraid to miss their plane. One can fly Yeti Air, Buddha Air, Cosmic Air, Gurka Air, Agni Air, Mountain Air, or Tara Air. After learning about Tara at the Rubin Museum before coming to Nepal, and knowing how positively disposed she is for helping humans, I would have liked to fly with her. I was the only barang (frangi, gringo, haole) traveling to Biratnagar--not exactly a prime trekking destination.
Taking off at 07:20 the fog in the valleys hadn't yet been burned off and another layer of cloud obscured the high peaks to the north. The landscape of the middle range became steeper and drier as we flew east, forest and field giving way to rock and scattered hamlets. The cloud and the filthy window prohibited any reasonable picture taking.
Dharan
Biratnagar is flat, warm, and humid, with an immediately recognized decrease in smog compared to KTMD. It also has more bikes and rickshaws, tractors and old trucks on the flat, better maintained roads.
Congregations of Indian mynahs on wires look natural here. Delonix regia, coconut, mango, acacias, figs of various types, eucalypts, casuarina, plumaria, papaya, great spreading canopies of an albezzia, and 40' tall bauhinia purpura are trees I can identify. There are many more I can't place.
The campus of BP Koirala Institute of Health Sciences is lush with old growth trees in a run-down park-like setting. The British built a Gurkha camp with hospital here and now it has evolved into almost a town dominated by the extensive health complex of hospital, medical and dental schools, hostels and housing and playing fields. The huge compound has a nice, active feel.
The ER is a crowded chaotic mess with patients on mattresses on the floor and people milling, pushing to enter, demanding, holding up their papers. The noise is terrific. I was taken aback seeing a middle aged man in peasant clothes bagging a patient while white coated doctors and nurses tended the person on the trolley. My orthopaedic colleagues frowned when I commented on this, saying it was sad, but the hospital only has a limited number of ventilators and not enough staff to physically ventilate every patient who comes to the ER in need of assistance breathing. A family member has to do it. I can't imagine what a son must feel when he is handed an ambu bag and told to press it in order to deliver oxygen to this dying mother.
My room at the guest house is fairly clean, a bit shabby, but suitable. Besides space sufficient to do TaiChi, hearing the familiar chur-chur of resident geckos makes even the lack of hot water acceptable.
While I bought a beer at a small shop outside the hospital, a woman came up and stood beside me at the counter. With no verbal exchange, the proprietress walked to the back of the store and returned with a half liter of whiskey, wrapped it and gave it to the woman. How convenient to have your wants known without saying a word. I came away with a semi cool 650ml Tuborg, wrapped in a June 26, 2009 page from the Katmandu Post.
While waiting at the Biratnagar airport for the return Yeti flight to Kathmandu, a small high-winged STOL airplane taxied to the departure gate. Short dark, wrinkled hill people--women with heavy gold rings hanging from their nasal septums and ears and wearing long colorful skirts and head wraps--filed out of the gate and into the plane.
It seems one can tell where people are going by their clothes and what plane they board. The trekkers in their gear leave in certain planes, the hill people in another and just regular folk into another. Who you are determines your destination.
The "GPS Manikin"
I don't know the streets in Kathmandu or the neighborhoods, except the one in which I'm presently staying. I don't even know which way I'm traveling and the short cuts the taxi drivers take leave me baffled. However, over a couple days riding around the city I have come to recognize a few landmarks. One is a manikin at a dress shop. It stands on the sidewalk and has breasts so pointed and unbalanced, Barbie would be embarrassed.
14 November 2009
12 November 2009
Thoughts after a week in Katmandu
The Pandey Children
The five year old Pandey girl, Chandani, goes to all-day kindergarten. She can read and write short stories in English and Nepali. I was told she can read the Nepali newspaper, though has to ask the meanings of some of the longer words. When could I write stories in English, let alone a foreign language? Maybe second grade. Though I know this sort of private education is not given to all Nepali children, or even 1%, her abilities let me know how and why we Americans are not destined to remain a powerful force in the world much longer. The educated people from the rest of the world are going to eat us alive, crunch our ill-educated bones for the marrow, and spit out our indigestible parts without us even asking for quarter or even knowing how to ask, because we have become so ignorant.
Seeing how the Pandey children's top-notch education sets them apart from what I know of American children and of most Nepali children, I am struck by the power of knowledge and education. It doesn't bring us together, but instead divides us. On the savannah we all had pretty much the same education, knew the same things, held similar ideas. With the expansion in our fund of knowledge or information we become divided into haves and have-nots. No matter the category of life one studies there are those who get it and those who don't. If in one category you are a "have", it is more likely that you are a have in a few others. The same goes for the have nots. The divisions seem to be coming out more and more unequal.
Chaos after civil war
On our overland walk to the hospital to avoid the chaos of the demonstration that blocked off his hospital last Friday, Chakra made the point that despite having no government, and living in the midst of chaos, people continue to function as if life is normal--evidence that there is a human need or constitutional imperative to live and sort out life the best way possible.
Nepal is an example not of a developing country but of a deteriorating country. It shows how civil war can destroy the cultural fabric of the country. The insurgency has done nothing positive for anyone. Previous levels of trust (what Chakra called the innate forgiveness of Nepalis) no longer exist. The blame can be placed in many quarters, but I don't see how anything positive can come from the existing situation. A Nepali mentioned that he'd been in Vietnam and saw that everyone between the ages of 15-50 was moving, going somewhere, doing something. In Nepal, about half the people were moving and after 2 weeks in Sierra Leone, he calculated that about 10% of the people were moving. He figured a country had about 5 years, or some set, short time in which to right itself after a civil war, and Vietnam had passed this magic interval satisfactorily and is on its way to wealth and stability. Nepal is rapidly losing the opportunity and SL, well, . .
One of the wireless phone companies is called STD. Signs on small shop windows advertising STD/ISD available make me think automatically they are clinics to treat sexually transmitted diseases.
Kathmandu's Durbar Square
On Saturday Cherin Pandey, male about 13, and I visited Kathmandu's Durbar Square. one of the main tourist attractions in the city. A must-do. The historic site of official business lined with old government buildings and crowded with temples, filled now with tourists, touts, punks, dogs, motorcycles and cars. We started our walk in the tourist area of Thamel. I was a bit confused because I couldn't figure out where on the map we had actually started since none of the streets have names and even my little compass confused me. Cherin was a fastidious guide. Every 25 meters he'd ask a person the way even though we'd already been told and hadn't changed direction, or met up with a side street that would have allowed a change in direction.
The Square and its buildings were uninteresting--crowded, noisy, smelling of human waste and awash with litter. I would have no reason to return, or to walk through Thamel, past the souvenir sellers with their gaudy overpriced merchandise. Since I am uninterested in buying, nothing looks interesting to me.
Toy-Toying in Nepal
Sunday, on the drive to Nepal Orthopaedic Hospital the car was twice diverted into long treacherously crowded and dusty detours because of demonstrators performing on the road. This seems to happen daily. A group is unhappy about something and takes its discontent into the street. It all seems relatively peaceful, with chanting and marching, nothing mean or aggressive, but the street is closed, inconveniencing everyone and raising the general level of frustration mixed with anger. Such actions are called marches or demonstrations, but I think of them using the South African word: they are toyi-toying in the street. The term fits.
On Tues the Kathmandu Valley was shut off by the Maoists at all the major roads. No guns, no violence, just long sticks, red flags, red and blue baseball caps, plus some singing and dancing. By their numbers and the narrowness of the road, the mass of primarily male demonstrators prevented vehicles from coming in or leaving the valley all day. Riot police stood in their protective gear along the road, a presence only.
I had been planning to visit two hospitals east of the city and secured a ride beyond the valley's boundary in an official hospital van. After much palaver with the demonstrators the driver got us through in the morning, but coming back to the city we had to wait until one leader, with a very bad hair color job, finished his speech. Driving out I sat in the front passenger seat. I was told my presence was auspicious because Maoists are known to be kindly disposed to foreigners and generally don't harm them. (thought extracting payment is another thing) I suppose they are keen to prevent bad publicity. These toyi-toyis add to the already atrociously snarled traffic and fray the nerves.
I can't imagine the Afghans toyi-toying like the Nepalis or even the Africans. Demonstrating a grievance by taking it nonviolently to the street doesn't fit with notions of any preferred Afghan response. On further reflection, such peaceful action seems positively ridiculous in an Afghan setting.
The five year old Pandey girl, Chandani, goes to all-day kindergarten. She can read and write short stories in English and Nepali. I was told she can read the Nepali newspaper, though has to ask the meanings of some of the longer words. When could I write stories in English, let alone a foreign language? Maybe second grade. Though I know this sort of private education is not given to all Nepali children, or even 1%, her abilities let me know how and why we Americans are not destined to remain a powerful force in the world much longer. The educated people from the rest of the world are going to eat us alive, crunch our ill-educated bones for the marrow, and spit out our indigestible parts without us even asking for quarter or even knowing how to ask, because we have become so ignorant.
Seeing how the Pandey children's top-notch education sets them apart from what I know of American children and of most Nepali children, I am struck by the power of knowledge and education. It doesn't bring us together, but instead divides us. On the savannah we all had pretty much the same education, knew the same things, held similar ideas. With the expansion in our fund of knowledge or information we become divided into haves and have-nots. No matter the category of life one studies there are those who get it and those who don't. If in one category you are a "have", it is more likely that you are a have in a few others. The same goes for the have nots. The divisions seem to be coming out more and more unequal.
Chaos after civil war
On our overland walk to the hospital to avoid the chaos of the demonstration that blocked off his hospital last Friday, Chakra made the point that despite having no government, and living in the midst of chaos, people continue to function as if life is normal--evidence that there is a human need or constitutional imperative to live and sort out life the best way possible.
Nepal is an example not of a developing country but of a deteriorating country. It shows how civil war can destroy the cultural fabric of the country. The insurgency has done nothing positive for anyone. Previous levels of trust (what Chakra called the innate forgiveness of Nepalis) no longer exist. The blame can be placed in many quarters, but I don't see how anything positive can come from the existing situation. A Nepali mentioned that he'd been in Vietnam and saw that everyone between the ages of 15-50 was moving, going somewhere, doing something. In Nepal, about half the people were moving and after 2 weeks in Sierra Leone, he calculated that about 10% of the people were moving. He figured a country had about 5 years, or some set, short time in which to right itself after a civil war, and Vietnam had passed this magic interval satisfactorily and is on its way to wealth and stability. Nepal is rapidly losing the opportunity and SL, well, . .
One of the wireless phone companies is called STD. Signs on small shop windows advertising STD/ISD available make me think automatically they are clinics to treat sexually transmitted diseases.
Kathmandu's Durbar Square
On Saturday Cherin Pandey, male about 13, and I visited Kathmandu's Durbar Square. one of the main tourist attractions in the city. A must-do. The historic site of official business lined with old government buildings and crowded with temples, filled now with tourists, touts, punks, dogs, motorcycles and cars. We started our walk in the tourist area of Thamel. I was a bit confused because I couldn't figure out where on the map we had actually started since none of the streets have names and even my little compass confused me. Cherin was a fastidious guide. Every 25 meters he'd ask a person the way even though we'd already been told and hadn't changed direction, or met up with a side street that would have allowed a change in direction.
The Square and its buildings were uninteresting--crowded, noisy, smelling of human waste and awash with litter. I would have no reason to return, or to walk through Thamel, past the souvenir sellers with their gaudy overpriced merchandise. Since I am uninterested in buying, nothing looks interesting to me.
Toy-Toying in Nepal
Sunday, on the drive to Nepal Orthopaedic Hospital the car was twice diverted into long treacherously crowded and dusty detours because of demonstrators performing on the road. This seems to happen daily. A group is unhappy about something and takes its discontent into the street. It all seems relatively peaceful, with chanting and marching, nothing mean or aggressive, but the street is closed, inconveniencing everyone and raising the general level of frustration mixed with anger. Such actions are called marches or demonstrations, but I think of them using the South African word: they are toyi-toying in the street. The term fits.
On Tues the Kathmandu Valley was shut off by the Maoists at all the major roads. No guns, no violence, just long sticks, red flags, red and blue baseball caps, plus some singing and dancing. By their numbers and the narrowness of the road, the mass of primarily male demonstrators prevented vehicles from coming in or leaving the valley all day. Riot police stood in their protective gear along the road, a presence only.
I had been planning to visit two hospitals east of the city and secured a ride beyond the valley's boundary in an official hospital van. After much palaver with the demonstrators the driver got us through in the morning, but coming back to the city we had to wait until one leader, with a very bad hair color job, finished his speech. Driving out I sat in the front passenger seat. I was told my presence was auspicious because Maoists are known to be kindly disposed to foreigners and generally don't harm them. (thought extracting payment is another thing) I suppose they are keen to prevent bad publicity. These toyi-toyis add to the already atrociously snarled traffic and fray the nerves.
I can't imagine the Afghans toyi-toying like the Nepalis or even the Africans. Demonstrating a grievance by taking it nonviolently to the street doesn't fit with notions of any preferred Afghan response. On further reflection, such peaceful action seems positively ridiculous in an Afghan setting.
08 November 2009
ARRIVAL IN NEPAL
On approach to Kathmandu, the rugged snowy peaks of the Himalaya sparkle above the horizon of green hills protecting the Kathmandu valley. A magnificent sight marred only by thick fumes pouring from open fires and smoke stacks.
Traffic
The traffic problems of the city, and I suspect of the country, are an inadequate road system in 1)quantity for the rapidly growing amount of traffic and 2) structural quality so that what little is available is rather more a detriment than a conduit for travel. Walking is a nightmare of avoiding both the torn up sidewalks, if there are any, and the vehicles whose sole goal has nothing to do with extending one's longevity. The roads can not be widened and no attempt has been made to repair or repave them. 99% of the hordes of careening motorcycles are driven by young men without either licenses or regard. They could well be seconds for any scene from Mad Max.
The city is filthy in litter, plastic bags, dust, and pollution. Foul smells of organic waste abound, mixed with chemical irritants. In short it is not a friendly city, liberally spiked with all manner of difficulties in getting from point A to point B. However, the home Dr.Chakra Pandey and his family have offered me is off the main street in as quiet and peaceful a setting as one can imagine in a noisy Asian city. (Night dogs still require ear plugs.) At 06:00, first light, pigeons and house crows awaken along with a 20 second lilting wake-up song by an unseen bulbul type of bird, who rouses the sparrows who chirp off and on all day. Mango, persimmon, orange, papaya, and kumquat trees line the garden parterres along with clay pots of marigolds and chrysanthemums. Cannonballs of pommelos hang from a neighbor's tree over one wall. The temperature hovers around 55-60° at night, warming in the sun to a cool bright 75°.
I have been given a pleasant sunny upstairs bedroom in a house adjacent to the Pandey's, but on their compound. The first floor's spacious entrance room has little furniture and its smooth wood floor and open space allow an exuberant, daily Tai Chi ritual. All in all a perfect place.
Fitted for Shalwar-Kamis
I thought I needed a shalwar/kamis, something a little lighter, a bit dressier than my expedition gear. I was also looking for clothing for warmer weather than the one I imagined from snowy Montana, and chosen with the thought of surviving a Himalayan December. I pictured some cheap clothes, but in the ready made stores there wasn't much without beads and sequins or gold glitter. The local tailor has pre-made sets of color and pattern coordinated cloth pieces suitable for top and bottom and a shawl that are then made up in the style one chooses from a picture book. I picked out all the components and dimensions for my sartorial masterpiece-- a round neck opening large enough so there's no need for a zip or buttons, long sleeves, kamis length to below knee, shalwar of thin legs bunched up at the ankles and elastic waist band. The picture book showing the various styles looked like the book I used in Sierra Leone for a wedding party dress--a mix and match guide of possibilities. It was quite exciting creating what I think I wanted, though I'm sure that when I try it on, I will find something not quite right. Sapana, Chakra's accommodating wife, did all the talking for the transaction. How wonderful to watch someone who understands how to get what she wants.
Nepali style Anarchy
Thurs afternoon, the day I arrived, 5 Nov, a bus ran into 3 people buying radishes beside the street, killing them. The driver ran away, knowing he'd be held accountable to some sort of public "justice". People destroyed the bus (similar to killing the messenger) and a big demonstration took over the street which the police closed, snarling traffic for the next 24 hours.
The hospital in Dharan was recently closed for a week because a patient's relatives had beat up some doctors when something untoward happened to the patient. Chakra attributed it to the general anarchy, since the state offers no security or justice and the hospital can't provide it either because the hired guards aren't trained, have no authority, and run away when trouble starts. Like the bus driver.
Friday the road to Chakra's hospital was closed, even ambulances weren't allowed to pass the barricades. One of the servants drove us until we couldn't go further because of a traffic jam, so we walked among the stalled cars, over a bridge, down a dirt embankment, up and around to the hospital. From the orthopaedic clinic windows I watched demonstrators march on the street, shouting slogans. The road was finally opened late in the afternoon.
Traffic
The traffic problems of the city, and I suspect of the country, are an inadequate road system in 1)quantity for the rapidly growing amount of traffic and 2) structural quality so that what little is available is rather more a detriment than a conduit for travel. Walking is a nightmare of avoiding both the torn up sidewalks, if there are any, and the vehicles whose sole goal has nothing to do with extending one's longevity. The roads can not be widened and no attempt has been made to repair or repave them. 99% of the hordes of careening motorcycles are driven by young men without either licenses or regard. They could well be seconds for any scene from Mad Max.
The city is filthy in litter, plastic bags, dust, and pollution. Foul smells of organic waste abound, mixed with chemical irritants. In short it is not a friendly city, liberally spiked with all manner of difficulties in getting from point A to point B. However, the home Dr.Chakra Pandey and his family have offered me is off the main street in as quiet and peaceful a setting as one can imagine in a noisy Asian city. (Night dogs still require ear plugs.) At 06:00, first light, pigeons and house crows awaken along with a 20 second lilting wake-up song by an unseen bulbul type of bird, who rouses the sparrows who chirp off and on all day. Mango, persimmon, orange, papaya, and kumquat trees line the garden parterres along with clay pots of marigolds and chrysanthemums. Cannonballs of pommelos hang from a neighbor's tree over one wall. The temperature hovers around 55-60° at night, warming in the sun to a cool bright 75°.
I have been given a pleasant sunny upstairs bedroom in a house adjacent to the Pandey's, but on their compound. The first floor's spacious entrance room has little furniture and its smooth wood floor and open space allow an exuberant, daily Tai Chi ritual. All in all a perfect place.
Fitted for Shalwar-Kamis
I thought I needed a shalwar/kamis, something a little lighter, a bit dressier than my expedition gear. I was also looking for clothing for warmer weather than the one I imagined from snowy Montana, and chosen with the thought of surviving a Himalayan December. I pictured some cheap clothes, but in the ready made stores there wasn't much without beads and sequins or gold glitter. The local tailor has pre-made sets of color and pattern coordinated cloth pieces suitable for top and bottom and a shawl that are then made up in the style one chooses from a picture book. I picked out all the components and dimensions for my sartorial masterpiece-- a round neck opening large enough so there's no need for a zip or buttons, long sleeves, kamis length to below knee, shalwar of thin legs bunched up at the ankles and elastic waist band. The picture book showing the various styles looked like the book I used in Sierra Leone for a wedding party dress--a mix and match guide of possibilities. It was quite exciting creating what I think I wanted, though I'm sure that when I try it on, I will find something not quite right. Sapana, Chakra's accommodating wife, did all the talking for the transaction. How wonderful to watch someone who understands how to get what she wants.
Nepali style Anarchy
Thurs afternoon, the day I arrived, 5 Nov, a bus ran into 3 people buying radishes beside the street, killing them. The driver ran away, knowing he'd be held accountable to some sort of public "justice". People destroyed the bus (similar to killing the messenger) and a big demonstration took over the street which the police closed, snarling traffic for the next 24 hours.
The hospital in Dharan was recently closed for a week because a patient's relatives had beat up some doctors when something untoward happened to the patient. Chakra attributed it to the general anarchy, since the state offers no security or justice and the hospital can't provide it either because the hired guards aren't trained, have no authority, and run away when trouble starts. Like the bus driver.
Friday the road to Chakra's hospital was closed, even ambulances weren't allowed to pass the barricades. One of the servants drove us until we couldn't go further because of a traffic jam, so we walked among the stalled cars, over a bridge, down a dirt embankment, up and around to the hospital. From the orthopaedic clinic windows I watched demonstrators march on the street, shouting slogans. The road was finally opened late in the afternoon.
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