The new Skylark school year began in late April. It was met with unbridled enthusiasm. The children all having advanced were entering a new world of relative seniority and feeling themselves edging closer to a sense of self-determination typical of kids across the globe when a certain age is met. This idea of independence is enhanced in the western world as driver licenses are granted and the use of family cars literally delivers un-surveyed new territories to young folks. Here the transformation is more internalized; it consists of curious new feelings spoken among friends and some changes in habit. For the older girls it seems subduing; the often-frenetic schoolyard movements give way to sitting with friends and vaguely observing one’s environment. The graduating class typically withdraws itself from the rest as they feel compelled by need or tradition to feel hyper-vigilant of their studies. They, from the first day of school, straddle the threshold between the present and their post-Skylark future.

Our fourteen students who are in their last year of Skylark

*****

NOH has been providing care for a small orphanage near us for about ten years now. Three or four years ago one of our volunteers who spent her time at this orphanage began donating funds to us, targeted to the expanded care of this home. This year, in addition to her covering the lease of the home, Jennifer Hyett provided the funds to send their children to Skylark. Our girls' tailoring shop has made all the uniforms. They are a delightfully cute group of children who have seized this opportunity very appreciatively.

Sajan, the young man on the left, has been hired by Jennifer to bring the children to and from school. Sajan, who has CP, has been in this home for the last 12 years or so and is an excellent and protective big brother whom all the children adore.

*****

This year’s Skylark graduating class has had a beautiful transition period into independence. This is largely due to the very careful planning by Prashanna, the CECC Director, and Sunita Pandey the Director of Papa’s House. The graduates all found employment quickly or took on valuable (experiential) internships. One of our daughters, a good student, black belt holder, and all-around wonderful person, went back to her village where she has three sisters all married. Chiya decided to follow in their footsteps with a young man she met during Dashain two years ago.

Many well-planned workshops for our senior class last year enabled them to develop the confidence and presentation skills necessary for going out and seeking positions.

The graduates’ days are planned and full, and they continue to expand their practical and knowledge-based skills. The girls and boys occupy our separate college transition houses where they have learned how to live independent of a manager by dividing tasks that serve the whole. They have learned that the smooth functioning of the group depends upon the timely execution of each individual's duties. We are very proud of them all. There is no doubt that what they have learned far surpasses what most college freshmen have a clue about; and this will help them to achieve happiness and success in life, and when college begins in July.

Seventeen of our eighteen grads along with Mrs. Pandey, her husband and daughter on their graduation trip to Pokhara.

*****

We hired two of our recent graduates, Bimala and Mina, to spend their afternoons at an orphanage we were requested to help. There are 10 small girls between the age of 5 and 8 living there. For one reason or another the care for these children had the ebb and flow of the impermanence of funds, so sometimes there was food, sometimes not; sometimes school, sometimes not; sometimes clean clothes, sometimes not.

The lack of funds or a business plan for opening an orphanage never seems a consideration for many homes and the children pay the price. When alerted, the government agencies refrain is, “Are they better off here or on the street?” This is of course shameful. But like with the home mentioned earlier that we have supported for about ten or more years, NOH cannot turn its back on the children, regardless of the confounding existence of the home’s management.

Last week I visited this new home during the hours that Mina and Bimala were present. I found 10 of the most adorable children, their lot in life immensely improved by our providing their food and afternoon childcare. Mina and Bimala are fun and intelligent girls who help with homework and basic mentoring, and have provided an oasis for these girls’ lives, allowing them to sleep with bellies full of nutritious food and to dream childhood dreams undisturbed by the dubious nature of their management.

In April of 2020 NOH will have 14 beds available for new children as this year’s 14 graduates move into the college house. I wish we had room for more than that. It would be nice to see these ten children under our superlative care though previous discussions have centered around our bringing younger girls who have been sold in the continued tradition of Kamlari (indentured servitude). We will soon make the difficult choice. Meanwhile we will make sure these children are well fed, educated, and hopeful.

*****

Srijana and Anupa are beginning their college days with gusto. In addition to learning teaching skills at the Chelsea Center they have also developed a new IT Club with their older brother Ashok as the club advisor. The club meets weekly to explore online tutorials and certificate courses, and to work on their website. Each member of the club has Information Technology as their college major. Both of these girls have six years of computer education through the Chelsea Education and Community Center from our top-notch instructors.

In addition to this, Srijana and Anupa go to our Kanti Children’s Hospital outreach program every afternoon to provide the children in the cancer ward a pleasant reprieve from the slow drip of chemo and uncertain futures by introducing art projects, games, or simple one-on-one conversation.

Anupa on the left and Srijana with their newly designed logo

*****

Another one of our children who makes his life happen is Chham. Chham was among those in the first home we took over in 2005. He was perhaps eight years old then and exhibited a remarkable energy and desire for helping.  He was a “big” brother to his smaller siblings and even some older than him. He was a very quiet boy who knew his environment well--his expression always a slight smile with curious, yearning eyes.

Chham graduated with a degree in social work two years ago. Before graduating, he decided that the best he can do in social work is to be independent and simply do it. He has worked hard all his life and saved his money.  After the earthquake, Chham managed to rebuild a small school and his family’s home in his remote mountain village; he did so with his own labor and that of village people he organized, his savings, and money gifted to him for the cause.

Chham is the essence of the famous Gorkha warrior which consist solely of his caste, Gurung.

In college Chham always had a side gig, or two, or three. He sold light bulbs door to door, vegetables on the street with a pushcart, then he decided to furnish pushcart sellers with vegetables. He has a keen eye for how success can be achieved by hard work and thinking how to do better, how to develop a niche that others have not seen missing.

Presently Chham is the owner of Four Brothers Trekking. He started the business three years ago and managed his three brothers into it. Chham has received his license from the government in high-altitude trekking...a major accomplishment. The brothers are all hardworking, honest Gurung men whose backyard is the Himalayas; they have always worked as porters. Their website is most impressive; please go to www.fourbrotherstrek.com to learn more. Chham has recently put money down on a jeep to take trekkers to remote areas. He is a young man on a mission.

We are proud of every one of our children. The success of some of our older children can be attributed to the support of NOH by our wonderful family of donors. And the opportunities that are available for all our children, especially educationally, are made entirely possible by you.

Chham in early 2005, we were then taking over the home he was in...and in February 2019

A very proud Chham and his new 20-year-old jeep

*****

Our new brother and sister, Saroub and Renukha have settled in well. They are smart kids, but their academic education just begins. Renukha had less classroom time than Saroub whose own experience with school was very limited. However, they love school and seem to be quick learners. They joined class three together.  This is an all English school, but their teachers are sensitive to that and our kids are helping them a lot. This week the children have their mid-term exams which make even the best of students nervous; but when asked if they have any tension, they offer sweet what-me-worry smiles in response. 

Sandip and Saroub shooting baskets and Renukha on a Saturday afternoon

*****

Taekwondo

Back: Sujan, Hemantha, Mary, Muskan, Sumi, and Suman
Front: Sita, Juna, Sandip, Alisha, Anita, and Asha

These eleven uniformed children are the last remaining active Taekwondo students. Eighteen or so others have conflicts between the 5 a.m. lesson time and college which begins at 6 a.m. and have sadly dropped out. Many before those photographed here achieved black belt status.

In the last three competitions we have done well with Alisha winning twice in sparring and a second-place finish once. Suman has placed second once and third twice in sparring. Asha has a third place in sparring and a second place in forms. Anita and Sita both have third place finishes in sparring, and Muskan a second-place finish in sparring.

Alisha	Asha
Suman	Muskan

*****

Photo Club

Our newly formed photo club is led by Khusbu Singh.

Khusbu shown here collecting an academic award from the Skylark Principal

She and a handful of others have been interested in photography ever since “Finding Neverland” came to us during Dashain of 2013. This was an NGO from Dubai that brought good small cameras as gifts and professional instructors for a two-week workshop ending in a public exhibition of the children’s work. One club member, Selina, sent me some photos last night where she was playing around with imagery perspectives.

We have discussed the idea of the club doing a yearlong project that would capture their lives in the four seasons of Dhapasi. We will see how this goes, possibly putting it together both online and in book form when the year is over. And in this coming Dashain, Ted Seymour, an accomplished photographer and NOH Board Member, will again be present to lead photography workshops as he does yearly.

Meanwhile I leave you with a couple of Selina’s Saturday photographic ideas.

And below, a couple of nature shots from Gita: 

*****

By my observation there are three types of people who would risk death to climb Mount Everest. The mountain climbers who have their lives, dreams, and years in preparation for it by climbing 6000 to 8000 meter peaks across the globe in order to best position themselves to achieve success. Then there are the vain who are not willing to sacrifice their time and energy in preparation and who think they can buy their way to the top while risking others’ lives for their quest, lacking even the passion to call it Quixotic. And finally, the Sherpa, super humans born to the mountain who hold it in extreme reverence, who worship it as their Mother. Given educational opportunities for their children or other gainful employment, the Sherpa would prefer to live in peaceful concert with Sagarmatha in her shadow.

The climb to the summit is nightmarishly treacherous. The real climbers know this, the Sherpas know this, and the vain soon learn it. Though some have been removed, the mountain is strewn with over 300 bodies, frozen to this day in the position of their death, many on the path to the summit, that must be stepped over.

Among the dead are many Sherpas who have given up their lives to help their clients; many are highly skilled climbers caught in unexpected weather. Many, including around thirty Sherpas, have been swept away in avalanches, one in 2014 and another during the 2015 earthquake. And many are the vain who despite every heroic effort of their Sherpas to sometimes literally short rope them to the top, become insubordinate, reckless, sick, or disastrously confused in the death zone, imperiling many, especially the Sherpas, whose sense of honor compels them to extraordinary effort and often the ultimate sacrifice while trying to protect them.

I would like to introduce you to a climber who does not fit neatly into any of the above descriptions. Nisha Bhote is the 20-year-old eldest daughter with four sisters and a younger brother. Her father struggles as a Sherpa for teams ascending Mount Everest. He began as a porter when a young man, but gradually worked his way up.

Nisha would listen to the stories of her father and other Sherpas of the good days and bad days of climbing Everest in advance to set all the ropes and ladders, and then guiding westerners to the summit. She was quietly fascinated by them and a seed of yearning was planted early on. But life for the family in their remote and very poor village was a constant struggle. The local school was in disarray and qualified teachers nonexistent. Nisha’s father wanted more for his children than he could give and worried about their futures. Finally, he managed to send Nisha to Kathmandu to live with an aunt and attend Skylark English School here in Dhapasi. But the spell of the mountains never left her, knowledge that she kept to herself as she knew her family’s finances would never support her interest.

For two years Nisha dreamed of climbing Mount Everest and with the passage of time she found the dream overtaking her daily thoughts, interrupting her ability to concentrate in college. It was becoming an obsession building pressure within her until one day she confronted her father and shared what was in her heart. Her father is a calm, quiet, and methodical man. He listened gently to the outpouring of his daughter’s heart. Then he answered that she is his first daughter and together they would find a way to make her dream come true.

They found little support or understanding for Nisha’s desire; the community saw it as self-indulgent. This did not surprise Nisha but caused her sadness and to further wrestle with the guilt she already felt over becoming a burden to her father and her family. The Sherpa community views climbing Mount Everest as something they must do to survive; they are the guardians of the mountain and of those who find it sport, but their respect for Sagarmatha gives little room to understand a young Sherpa girl’s desire. But despite this, her father defended his daughter’s ambition and training began.

For lack of money the training was limited to the conditioning Nisha could do on her own, then technical training by her father and his friends, and finally she was outfitted with the discards of western climbers. She went to Lobuche (20,161 ft.) for strength and acclimation training. She did one other more technical peak just a short while before beginning the 10-day trek to the Everest Base Camp at over 17,000 ft.

Nisha was allowed to join a small expedition guided by a friend of her father. Her father was a guide in a larger expedition at the same time and they would see one another in Base Camp.

Base Camp is where acclimation begins; it is for some a slow process and will involve round trips to Camp One (20,000 ft.) two or three times and then to Camp Two (21,000 ft) one time before leaving BC for good and settling at Camp One.

Base Camp to Camp One passes under the Icefall. This is a horror chamber filled with rumbling from below the surface, thunderous explosions of ice cracking and falling, and with sudden gusts of very strong wind. Ice is frozen in a wave’s curl over a path filled with numerous, often hidden crevasses. This area is best passed through before dawn when the temperatures are the coldest. Some of the crevasses are bridged with an aluminum ladder with loose ropes on each side, the distance across up to 16 ft., the distance down thousands of feet. You are wearing thick boots with crampons to grab the ice, but here they must try and straddle the distance between ladder rungs. You pass over one at a time, knowing the slightest misstep ends your life.

Camp One is called the Valley of Silence. You lay in your tent hearing the moans of crevasses opening and closing beneath the surface and the pounding headaches cause sleepless nights when your determination to go on is severely tested.

Camp Two is at 21,000 ft., reached after seemingly endless slow walking. You set up camp on a rocky flat under a 4000 ft. sheer ice wall known as the Lhotse Wall. You are exhausted and the temptation is to rest, but the determined will walk around breathing deep, saturating the body with more oxygen. This night was the second in which Nisha could not sleep or eat, and in the dawning light she would have to climb the Lhotse Wall to Camp Three.

“We walked a little way to the Wall; it was a slow walk and hard, but warmed us up. At the Wall there are many ropes dangling down, you choose carefully, apply your carabiners, and climb. After maybe 90 minutes there is an Ice Bulge that is more than vertical that you must climb over. You push deep into the ice with your crampons and ice ax, breathe deep, one slow step after another, staying aware and focused, but not thinking of anything but each step. Finally, we reached camp. This night I used oxygen for about 5 hours, the altitude is around 24,000’. I slept deeply.

“Camp Three was at around 25,000ft. This is a dangerous, small plateau on the rock face. If you must leave your tent at night you must be fully dressed and secured to the ropes. This is a narrow platform. I am so tired. We leave in a few hours for Camp Four.

“Once under way we traversed the wall to a rocky section, frozen monoliths and a tangle of ropes with many crevasses--some narrow enough to step over, some wider to jump over--but I am short, and my legs have lost their jump. Others have the ladders over, that must be crossed one slow fitted step at a time with only a loose rope in each hand for balance. Once past this we faced another wall to traverse, this is very steep but not too high. Past this we see Camp Four. This is in the Death Zone, 26,000 ft. We camp. We are practically in space here. Everyone is lost in their own thoughts. The wind howls; fear is in everyone’s eyes. I try to stay hydrated and I nibble on some energy bars as darkness begins to fall bringing with it severe cold and haunting winds. In about six hours we will prepare for our summit attempt. We lie still in our tents and try to rest.

“I heard my guide calling me. Suddenly it was time to begin. I left the tent and the night sky was clear. It looked like we were in the Milky Way galaxy, billions of stars softly twinkling in a white vapor-like sea. The winds at that time were coming in strong gusts, then stopping. I looked ahead and could see a line of flickering head lamps worming its way higher and it suddenly filled me with excitement. We climb and climb. It is terrifying in the darkness, and it is so cold that the crampons barely cut into the ice. Some have stopped climbing and you must unhitch from the rope to go around them, and soon others are descending having reached their limit of endurance, they unhitch and go around you and hitch again. I was feeling pretty good and my pace felt comfortable. I reached the balcony where one can take a short rest; we have climbed for six hours so far. I changed my oxygen bottle as the first thin line of light seemed drawn onto the curvature of the horizon, I stood ready to go on, my feet were very cold, and I kicked my boots a few times in response. I climbed more and after rounding a corner and up a short ridge I came to the South Summit. We traversed across the summit and around another corner there lay the peak of Everest itself. My eyes began to tear. It was so close now just maybe 100 meters, yet hours away as the most daunting climb is yet to come. Everest has done its best to keep her summit from being reached thus far, but has saved its greatest gauntlet so near to success. The Knife Ridge is worse than anyone could ever prepare you for. It is very steep and barely wide enough to cross, 2 ft. at best. To each side is a freefall of about 3000 meters. Your feet are frozen, the optimism you moments before felt has turned to sheer panic. You climb a step and breathe. You are at a crazy angle, the winds are blowing so hard, nothing but freefall to each side of you. Another step, your lungs are bursting, your heart wild in your chest and then you come to the remains of the Hillary Step, a 12-meter, but now more manageable, rock climb. It was mostly hard packed snow and ice and though strenuous it was a relief from the Knife Edge.

“Everest’s peak is not visible now and I am losing my hope. We transverse this area painfully slowly. A few climbers are now descending, here there is room for them to pass by. They have reached the top. We climb yet another ridge and upon reaching it I realize …

May 23rd, 2019

“I have made it. After a few moments at the top trying to take in the view through teary eyes I moved off the top and wrapped my culture dress around me, removed my oxygen mask and goggles and quickly posed for sake of my culture. And then we began our descent, back along the Knife Ridge, climbing down scarier than climbing up. Once off the Knife Ridge the path widens and teams ascending are painstakingly trudging by. I saw my father coming up and when he was near his eyes met mine; they were smiling. He turned me around and looked at my oxygen tank, my regulator was too low, and he increased it. We talked for a moment, then he patted my shoulders and continued on.”

*****

Nisha Bhote is a quiet girl who does not see her accomplishment worthy of much talk. She is back now blending anonymously in the dusty streets of Dhapasi. During her time on Everest, eleven people gave up their lives attempting to summit. Nisha was kind enough to tell her story to me, and I have expressed her feelings as accurately as possible in the story above.

That is the update for June 2019.

Thank you all for your support.

Papa

It is time for me to begin the “Update.” This happens when the inspiration appears, or deadline looms large. In the former case, I am sometimes delightfully pulled along in a subconscious flow, tapping away, and trying not to disturb the fragile relationship between the current, and my own thoughts, I try to be still and simply write. When this works, the ambient sounds of my neighborhood, kids playing in the streets, half-deflated soccer balls being kicked across the gravel road, vendors on bicycles with booming baritones shouting out their wares to people inside their homes, the shrieking whistle of trash collectors, will all fade away. In the latter case, feeling the pressure of a deadline to write, I am assaulted by it all.

There is a lot to share in this update. I am touched by the evolution of our children and organization and will be writing about that and more. But first I am writing this under the eclipse of Hope’s surgery which will take place in Greensville, SC, the other side of the planet from me, at 6:45 pm my time, just 4 hours and thirty minutes hence.

Her operation was postponed from September, when I was present for her, due to Hurricane Florence that swept in that week. It is hard not to be with her now, but she is with her mom Anita, who has raised the bar on good mothering to a lofty extent, and her loving step-father Sam. Hope will be fine.

Hope is one of the most impressive children, scratch that, humans I know. She has never questioned her missing feet, nor has she ever complained. When she falls, she quickly offers “I’m okay” for my sake, I believe, and carries on with a smile. Though unspoken by Hope, nor showing in her face, I believe that usually present in her thoughts is her desire to walk, run, and stay in pace with the others. Anita sent me a video shortly after they moved to North Carolina. Hope had received a push scooter a week earlier and spent hours each day getting the hang of it while going up and down the wide sidewalks of their community with her mom, or grandmother at her side. Meanwhile Hope met some of the kids in the neighborhood who all had scooters as well and would ride them in small packs. The video Anita sent showed this pack coming down the sidewalk, literally downhill, a gentle but steady decline. All the kids with their colorful helmets were gliding along without a care, and then I spotted Hope in the middle, the most demanding of positions in a pack, and there she was with equal grace and calm.  As they passed where Anita was filming, Hope looked up and smiled and in that smile I saw her quiet victory. It was her moment, undiscerned by all others, but I could see and feel in her smile her pulsing with joy at a threshold crossed, and as the camera swung to catch the retreating pack I cheered from my desk 8000 miles away and felt flush with the grateful exultation one can only feel as a parent’s witness to their child’s moment of inner bliss, their triumph of accomplishment. The potency of such moments leaves one spent, mortality over-ridden by the spirit alone. These are the sweet flashes in time that remind one of how utterly great life can be.

Hope has adapted well to her new environment, a culture with its own rules that she eagerly accepts. She made neighborhood friends that go to her school, some in her class. To the bus stop each morning go the mothers, chatting while their sons and daughters walk side by side, backpacks in place, busy with conversation likely around “What’s in your lunch box today?” When the bus comes, Hope makes the first step up with her compensating arm muscles in a swift move that belies the quick calculations she performs necessary to rise in step with the others. She waves out the window and is gone into her own separate world until 3:30 brings her round again. The walk home, as in the walk to school, brings her to independence, this brings her back to family — the two worlds that children navigate as they begin to explore their way in the world.

Anita overheard Hope’s new friend one day, in the innocent inquisitiveness of small children, ask Hope what happened to her feet. This is a question Hope has never asked us, though we were prepared for it, and as thus we have never provided an answer to. “I had an accident,” Anita heard her reply, simply stated as one might say, “We had pizza last night.” Her friend said “Oh,” and they resumed their banter. A stated fact given, curiosity filled, and life goes on.

Most likely when you are reading this, Hope will be back in school. Sam and Anita have purchased a wheelchair for Hope and made arrangements for the handicapped bus to come and pick her up. Hope has allowed herself one week only to be absent from school, this she reassured her friends when they hugged her goodbye on Friday.

*****

Later this same day, Hope came through the operation in good form.

Hope before walking into the OR

Hope in the recovery room

At this Shriners Hospital the child must say goodbye to the parents outside the operating rooms. Hope took it all in stride according to Anita, and followed the process without complaint. The medical staff had high praise for Hope when they came to inform Anita and Sam that the operation was over. Back in her room Hope gives one thumbs up — she scores most everything that is going on in her day by the number of thumbs up or down.

Anita did not take time to remove her jacket in her excitement to see Hope when she came back to her room. And, still waiting for Hope was a Halloween party. Shriners Hospitals are amazing places, very worthy of support.

And last, after Hope and I shared a video call, she slept, the long anticipated (by her parents) day was done, and all was well.

*****

Ishwor and his classmates have just completed their two years of “college.” Now they will begin University. Ishwor had taken the challenging science stream for the past two years, sacrificing free time to achieve entrance to a medical science path in the university system. He sat for the exam, along with over a thousand other students and achieved the rank of 24th overall. He will soon enter Manmohan Memorial Institute of Health Sciences to earn his four-year bachelor’s degree in Medical Laboratory Technology. The competition for entrance to the limited seats available is great obviously, and thus scholarships are only for the first 16 places. The top eleven win coveted seats at the Government University, the next five are granted some scholarship money from the better private schools, and the others unceremoniously vie for the best they can find.

Ishwor, a fine athlete, scholar, and gentleman

*****

Also in this same class Sabina, another science student, decided to complement her studies by learning German at the Embassy here. She wishes to study nursing and wisely feels her best career move at this stage would be to do so in Germany. Sabina began her language studies a few months ago in addition to the mind-numbing coursework she had. She will qualify to sit for the visa exam in another three months, and upon passing it will be eligible for work in Germany, and then after one year’s residency she would be allowed to attend nursing school there.

Sabina in black jacket at last February’s Valentine’s Day celebration

*****

Dhiraj is settling in nicely in Australia. He wrote the following letter last week:

Dear Papa

How are you? I want you to know that I miss you guys so much and there is not even a single day I don't miss u guys and of course you papa.

Life is moving on with a lot of interesting and new things every day.  I feel really blessed to have Laurie and Stan in my life and they have hearts of gold.

I work 10 hours a day and 5-6 days a week. I have made around AUD$2500 till today in a month. I work for a Chicken shop where we sell a lot of chicken and salads. It is owned by one of Stan’s friends who is a South African. There are 4 Nepali boys working there with me. They are paid $14 an hour and he used to pay me around $13 per hour when he was training me. Now I am trained and work hard and he pays me $16 an hour. I have created a small family for myself with Laurie and Stan and all their family members and friends. Lots of their Family invite me for dinner and breakfast, everyone wants to see me and talk to me about my life in Nepal and changes, so it feels like home Papa. I am loving it here and excited about my university soon starting on 12th of November. I feel I am so blessed Papa. First to get you in my life. I would not have able to do this in my life and secondly all the people I have known because of you Papa. Thanks, Papa for all those strict rules in the hostel with Sam and all the house managers. Whatever I am doing is your achievement Papa.

Thanks for life Papa.

Thank you for everything Papa

Please bless me, Papa,

I Love you

I miss you

A big hug and with tears on my eyes

Love you Always

Dhiraj

Dee(That's what everyone calls me at work)

And a small bit of my reply:

Dear Dhiraj

I am very proud of you, but Australia is not the proving ground for it, I have been proud of you from long ago. Australia simply provides further evidence of why.

This Dashain you were here in spirit, remembered well, and you will never be forgotten. But you were 1 among many children not in attendance when everyone younger than me (I could have simply said everyone) sat cross legged on the mats and prepared to receive my blessing. What an absolute honor that act is in my eyes. One more of the many benefits of age, and my life among you all.

Dhiraj taking a Sydney arrival selfie

With Papa in 2009

*****

Nama is an athlete with natural talent, but he has become superb due to his commitment to the sport of basketball. At Skylark he commanded the courts and gained the awareness of college programs. He received a full scholarship at Morgan College, noted more for its basketball program then its academics, which are still better than the average.

Nama has also just completed his college classes and is looking at University. This past year he did pretty well academically while playing for Morgan, as well as on the National level on the Nepal Army team. The National level of play is most impressive, and they compete throughout the year both in-country and internationally.

In addition to his on-court prowess is his off-court kindness and eagerness to help anyone in need. If ever he sees me toiling outside he will come and try to relieve me of the tools and take over. He is a quiet leader, by example, in all that he does.

*****

This is a recent painting by Bimal. I admired it profusely, so he gave it to me. I instead had it framed and it hangs in the Chelsea Center where many eyes get the pleasure. We have as a Saturday art teacher a man with flawless technical abilities; he teaches at the Art College and paints when he has time, often commissioned. He has been teaching Bimal and others for over a year now and Bimal, a very gifted young man who loves to paint, has had his own technical level increased remarkably. What I love about his new style is how he imbues his paintings with the emotions of the people inhabiting the canvas. Bimal has a sensitive artist soul with the deft touch of a great craftsman.

*****

Anisha had been working as a waitress for several months in the late afternoons and early evenings while attending college. She works and studies hard. NOH has been supporting the babies at the quasi-government orphanage for quite some time. We thought the time had come for us to have one of our own there each day to make sure the babies received individual attention and our thoughts turned to Anisha, and when asked if she would like to do it she jumped at the opportunity. She has been there for several months now and a world of difference has resulted by it in the energy level and number of smiles the babies share. And we are feeling a lot more serene in our involvement in trying to make the best of the situation for them.

The bottom two photos show Anisha with Sarika, the little one that I wrote about in an earlier update. She is now getting the attention and touch all babies deserve…but which before Anisha were not coming her way…and now she is blossoming because of it.

*****

Our daughter Mary came to us from as far west in Nepal as the country goes. A mountain village without electricity, nor the sound even of petrol-powered mechanics. A peaceful place, but one that demands an abiding relationship with nature to survive in. I wrote a story about Mary and how she happened to come to us almost 9 years ago, leaving behind her father and little sister who was only 3 at the time. Mary often thought about her sister and over the past few months her thoughts were shared with us and we decided to try and find her. Clues were few, but tangible. The family had lost direct contact with her sister 6 years ago when a family friend said he could get her into a school in Kathmandu. They allowed him to bring her and then lost touch with their friend, and as the seasons came and went, time soon covered her tracks, and memory. But with a little effort we found that her sister was in an orphanage on the other side of Kathmandu. We called them and found the man whose family started the orphanage 35 years ago rather surprised when I let him know about Laxmi, Mary’s sister. I took Mary to meet her little sister the next day, and then a couple of weeks later we picked up Laxmi and brought her to stay with Mary for part of our Dashain. Coincidentally, this search provided collateral information that Mary’s father is a kidney patient here at the government hospital; he has severe renal failure in both kidneys and is on dialysis. His situation is unfortunate as he hasn’t any money for ongoing treatment. But now Mary and Laxmi have had the opportunity to meet with him and their aunt, after so many years. The universe presents opportunity, but not always solution.

Mary and Laxmi reunited. Sisters, but in Laxmi’s mind she never knew

*****

Late in the summer we turned our attention to tightening the bonds between the 250 women who attend free classes each day at our Chelsea Center and the children of NOH. Ted Seymour, a member of the NOH Board, spent a month here observing all of our programs and this idea was part of his suggestions. So, to this end we began the “Auntie Program.”

One of the quaint practices in Nepal has all children calling older women “Auntie” and older men “Uncle.” All adults refer to older males as “Dhaai” and older woman as “Didi”, brother and sister, and “Bhaai” for a younger male and “Bahini” for a younger female. Thus everyone is your brother or your sister. It is quaint, but it serves a greater purpose to strengthen the bonds of respect and behavior among all people, and it helps to keep insensitivities at bay.

We decided to ask the Aunties if they would host a child for a normal family dinner. The response was excellent initially, but as we added some rules such as picking up the child and bringing them home again, and being absolutely on time both ways, the numbers thinned. The final count was 38 Aunties were excited to do this with the rules in place. The Aunties were advised to allow the child to participate in the dinner preparations and to strive to make them feel like family as opposed to a guest. The two rules need to leap huge cultural impediments. Time is a loose concept among the Nepalis, and “Guest is God” is a notion applied to anyone entering your house, thus serving the guest with the utmost of care and respect is a cultural imperative. But they did well on both counts and the kids and aunties had fun, which was the largest end-point. All things take time to make perfect, but we are optimistic that this is a program with great possibilities. The debriefing after was full of positive responses and setting a date for the next dinner received an enthusiastic affirmation.

Another aspect of the culture is to not demonstrably show affection, hugging is rare, and yet, to my delighted eyes, when we called out the names of the “couples” many Aunties gave their child a welcome hug. Just amazing, and I was moved to see this, as hugging is something that I know our children enjoy.

The Aunties and their daughters and sons for the evening

*****

As most of you know, October is the time when Dashain and Tihar are experienced in Nepal and India. These are 30-plus day festivals in honor of gods, families, and a small sampling of animals, the cow taking the seat of highest honor. There are two days of particular reverence and tradition, one in Dashain and the other in Tihar.

On “Dashain” families gather and after bathing but before eating, a Puja is given. The elder of the family will lead off applying “tika” to the foreheads of the assembled family who kneel or sit cross-legged in wait. While applying the tika, made from color and rice, it is incumbent to offer a blessing, then place a specially grown straw called “Jamula” behind the ear or tucked into the hair, and finally you place some small bills and coins into the recipient’s hands. It is a tradition easy for me to like. It takes the Western world’s seasonally spoken “Peace be with you” up a few notches.

After the patriarch completes all, then the matriarch and others who wish to do so, such as uncles and elder brothers or sisters are free to follow suit.

If tikas took the shape of countries, Rajan had the U.S. Mary, good natured as Sarita mocked a selfie.
Aakriti’s World, gentle, intriguing	Mina developing into her new name “Naina”
Urmila, brilliant, kind, yearning	Kailashi, Sumitra, Sarita, alive and energized
Ashok, garland by Prashanna	Sapana, Gita, and Sarita, three special, real sisters

*****

“PAPA’S HOUSE PIES”

A love of pie baking and sharing spawned the idea that we should sell them. Pie is a new taste in Nepal; I am not aware of anything closely resembling traditional pies here, though bakeries are in a renaissance period in Kathmandu.

So, we shaped this to be a business that will grow and as it does, employ more of our science stream college and university students to give a few hours a week each, as they can afford. Their time in the bakery we feel will be a necessary mental release from study, clearing their thoughts and allow them to return fresh and sharp to the books.

We will put all the profit from this business into a special fund to provide support (rent and food) for the university level kids to be able to focus on their demanding studies. Science students attend school from 10 a.m. until 5-6 p.m. six days a week, leaving no time for earning. By participating in the pie business, they are “earning” their support with just a few hours a week according to their own schedule.

Marketing has occupied a lot of time this past month, as well as preparing the bakery, and developing new pies according to seasonally available produce. We hope to open after Tihar. Our first target will be the US Embassy where they have already posted our advertisement on their bulletin board, a local restaurant where embassy staff take their lunch, local coffee shops, and we hope a local grocer where the embassy staff shops. Closer to home we will have Pie Fridays at the Chelsea Center and encourage the “Aunties” to buy our pies, tarts, muffins, and cookies to take home to family.

As through our years of the Chelsea Center changing the educational landscape of our adult community, we hope to change the dietary taste, and bring some occasional treats into the homes of Dhapasi. Beta testing has shown this will happen; it is a great cause and a wonderful taste.

Former cow shed that we remodeled after purchasing the property and before building the Chelsea Center. It went from cow shed to college boys home one year, to office space, and now the “first” home of “Papa’s House Bakery.”

Asha has a career interest in baking. We sent her to a six-month course at a fine resort to open the pathway for her. They did not do pies, but her familiarity in the kitchen, her availability during the day, her having cooked with me for years at our Friday night dinners, and her excitement have made starting this business easy. She will eventually manage what will one day be another of our children’s enterprises.

*****

Thanksgiving of 2013 was one that will never be forgotten. We had Hope with us, and NOH seemed to find its center around her. A time of deeply felt family unity from which all individuals prospered. Present that year was Kathy Procanik, one of Hope’s godmothers. Before leaving her hotel to come to Thanksgiving dinner she invited a young man she had met, and a few others who had no plans for the day, to come with her. The young man is Jonathan Paluga. I wrote about him last year, and he deserves to be written about every year.

Moved by the way we celebrated Thanksgiving, by the children and their love for one another, their caring, and their spirit, he sent a donation and a beautiful letter describing what the day had meant to him soon after he returned home.

The next year he returned with his partner Kym. A month before coming he sent another donation which he hoped would pay for the Thanksgiving dinner, which made it a Thanksgiving Feast!

Each year since, Jonathan has increased his commitment to our children’s Thanksgiving in an amount that broadly exceeds the cost of a Feast and is then applied to the educational enhancement opportunities we encourage among our children.

To me, Jonathan exemplifies the spirit of Thanksgiving whose meaning I yearly impress upon our children in a sermon they politely endure before they eat.

What Jonathan does makes possible a day that is eagerly looked forward to, as deeply to the children as Christmas, and Dashain. It is my favorite family event, as closely resembling an American Thanksgiving family dinner as we can muster with the challenges of Nepal always lurking. The gift is for us, but I have to imagine that when Jonathan and Kym sit down with their own family for Thanksgiving, that they are holding hands under the table and smiling as the blessing is given, knowing what a blessing they have bestowed upon us across the planet.

Kym with Hope and me in 2014	Jonathan and Kym at Bouda

*****

SANCTUARY FOR KIDS

Mother, actress, director, and philanthropist, Amanda Tapping lives to give hope and opportunity to all people. Amanda has united legions of fans to have the courage to listen to their hearts and act accordingly, to find their voice, to learn they are not alone, that they can change the world and themselves through reaching out their hands to others.

How is it that a highly successful celebrity can be so honest, down to earth, available, and use her position to motivate others to find their spirit and make it come alive, with as much attention as she gives to her craft? Both are full time occupations sometimes done well by two different individuals, never both done by one.

One of my favorite photos. This is Jill Bodie who along with Amanda and Jill’s husband, Damian Kindler, founded Sanctuary for Kids in 2008. Jill is a mother, a wife, a teacher and life coach with extraordinary passion for making a difference for children left behind by societies too busy to care.

This is Sylvia Patterson, the Director of (S4K). I have not met Sylvia but through e-mails. She is the orchestra leader whose consummate skill in business guides the foundation and weaves it into the lives of far-flung organizations such as ours, while handling the myriad logistics that have enabled S4K to unite Amanda’s fan base and turn it into highly successful yearly conventions that benefit attendees and beneficiaries alike.

I had an introductory e-mail to Amanda in early 2009. One of our volunteers, a gifted young Irishman, was building the S4K website at the time. He was moved by NOH and quietly lobbied Amanda, Jill, and Damian to consider making us one of their first grant recipients.

Through this, Amanda, Jill, and I exchanged several e-mails and soon thereafter plans were made for them to come to Nepal along with one of Jill’s daughters, Hannah. I was at that time unaware of Amanda’s fame as I had been off the grid for quite a few years here, and even previously in America I did not watch television or read about entertainment. Then one day I mentioned to another volunteer that Amanda Tapping was coming for a visit and this volunteer was incredulous, remarking, “How in the world do YOU know Amanda Tapping?!” This mid-thirty aged man pursuing his PhD in Education proclaimed gushingly, “I am so in love with her,” and proceeded to fill me with nervousness over meeting Amanda.

When Amanda, Jill, and Hannah arrived I found in Amanda a beautiful and radiant woman as kind and easy as a girl next door that one had grown up with and who made you feel that nothing was special about them but their enduring friendship to you for life. As Amanda and Jill would sit in late afternoon conversations with me, their fame disappeared, I felt more in the company of two people who were special because they had chosen to live their lives in service to others, both highly intelligent and motivated, and with a great sense of humor. They asked insightful questions and would be moved to silence and tears to hear about the lives of our children before coming to us.

Once, four years ago I had an e-mail from a friend who was also a big fan of Amanda’s. She said to go to You Tube and watch an interview Amanda had done in London before a large audience.

Midway in the interview Amanda was open to questions from the audience. One question was along the lines of “What was the last thing that inspired you?” a rather generic question. Amanda sat quiet for a moment, then said “Hope.” She then proceeded to tell the story of our daughter and she did so through tears. This broadened into a response that included factually accurate stories of not just Hope but many of our children. The audience was breathless, the on-stage interviewer speechless. This is Amanda Tapping, an amazing human being who clearly listens and takes it all to heart.

Two years ago, Anita and I were in Boston where Hope was getting surgery at Shriners. Jill wrote to me and said she was in Massachusetts getting her daughter settled in college. She wrote that she would love to come and help us out with babysitting, errand running, or in any way we might need help during this time. Again, as illustration of kindness to all, Jill, very successful, known to many celebrities, very busy, was willing to drop what she was doing and lend a hand to simple people she knew mostly by our shared values and the long-time support of S4K for our work.

The day came for goodbye, Saraswati’s face said it all. Amanda and Jill had reached the heart of all our children, every one of them, by their motherhood, comfort, listening, and embracing.

Amanda leaving each child aware that if they believe in themselves and work hard they will be everything they wish to become.

Jill letting the kids know what a mother feels like. And Hannah mesmerizing the children by her beauty, calm, and intelligence.

I write about S4K now as earlier this year Amanda, Jill, and Sylvia let us know that S4K will cease to exist after December of this year. They have served so many over the last ten years. From S4K we have received countless number of volunteers, individuals who have been devoted fans and participants in S4K from its inception, fine people who have remained friends and supporters. Through S4K came a wonderful Director of Volunteer Nepal, another who has for 7 years been coming and in one long stretch served as a house manager and helped manage our Chelsea Education Center; they remain close friends to us today.

The financial support of S4K has been incredible. Year after year, it has enabled education, housing costs, medical interventions--all to make the children’s lives more individual and less part of a large group, special moments, security, happiness, comfort, and a validation for our work and future proposals.

To me, what this relationship has meant is all the above and more. Through these three successful women I have been made to feel deeply appreciated, to feel special, that my quiet life is more important than I see for myself. They have been friends to me, cheering me on, and letting me know they not only have my back, but my heart as well.

Thank you, Sanctuary for Kids, for your many splendid gifts.

Love,

Michael

*****

From 2010

Our children do not talk so much about life, they just live it; they do not talk about giving a gift to a friend, they just do it; they don’t think about carrying the school bag of another who isn’t feeling well, they simply take it; there is no pretense, no calculations they simply choose to engage everything straight from the heart.

We have choices in life and each and every one of us has so much power. If you choose to live a positive optimistic life, to help others, to love your family and friends, to think “how can I make a difference in someone’s life everyday” then you will make that difference; not only in their lives but in the quality of your own. It does not take a special person or a rich person; it just takes a caring person.

Those of you who have been in Nepal with us know how precious and unnaturally kind and compassionate our children are. I have learned so much about the meaning of life and how to better live it from our children. I have learned about being patient and appreciating the moment. I have learned not to hold anger at those who have brought harm to us, learned in fact to try and understand, to empathize in an effort to discover the motive of these lonely people. I have learned how to laugh at myself, how to love and feel loved. These children are little prophets one and all who make it easy to believe that one’s own life can bring remarkable change in a world that is abundantly lopsided in its equality.