A never ending parade of shoes for all occasions greets me in Nepal. Shoes for outside but once you step in the door you must put on another pair of shoes to walk in the house with. Please don’t forget to take those off those shoes and slip on a pair of rubber sandals to wear in the bathroom that are often wet from the previous user who washes their feet by pouring a small bucket of water over everything. Clean and efficient? Forget wearing socks to enter those frozen halls of concrete to use the facilities!
Stepping out of the bathroom you again slip on your inside shoes…..bedroom slippers can be different too….all in a day in Nepal.
The six hour drive took us from Kathmandu to the Terai region where it is warm and humid. Jungles abound as one enters the area after traveling up and down mountains and valleys. I had my first glimpse of the snowcapped mountains as we were into our trip by about an hr.
Terraced fields of cabbage and other cool weather plants grace the hills as we travel…little towns dot each area that has a flat expanse along the river. In the distance one can see the “slips” of land that the earthquake caused in 2015 and because of soil erosion. Huge cranes along the riverbanks supply the endless need of gravel for the cement factories. There is a never ending need as cement buildings are being made in Kathmandu. Women carry baskets on their backs filled with rock they pull from the rivers also. Children scamper precariously near the edge of the road as we careen around hairpin turns. I pray.
The Terai region is very different from Kathmandu. Warm and moist, chilly at night but very sun drenched in the day.
A barren inner courtyard meets us. Brown grass and withered bushes. Monsoons are yet to come. The “A frame” to a swing set without swings sits as a reminder of what is not. Classrooms with small round tables and mats on the floor are a reminder of needs. Broken chairs and visual aids hang lopsided on the dirty light green walls that greet us at the door. These children are of a very low caste in Nepal. The Mushar people. They are forgotten.
We came to visit this small school. The children here are all in K-3 class and very impoverished. Children of all sizes in ragged clothes met us with curriosity and some in fear but most in wonder.
Faces that reflected little hope. A little girl, perhaps six years old, dressed in what appeared to be blue pajamas sits on the ground with her only booklet of paper firmly under her leg. Another child grabs at it wanting to take it away she cries out…I sit down among them. Little do they know that the book bags we are about to give them contain 6 booklets of paper, new pencils, an eraser and a sharpener! We sit and I show them some English words. In a matter of seconds I am surrounded by 38 children all wanting to learn something. One little boy is frightened of me and stands back with his nose running and hair sticking up all over his head. He must be around 4. Luminous brown eyes look me over but he still stands back.
Our presentation lasts about 30 minutes. Sandip interprets for me and I ask the children to pay attention in school and ask several what are your dreams to be when you are older. There are no answers as if they have no idea of possibilities. I encourage them with words to learn and grow and become what they wish for later in life. We hand the book bags out with the supplies and each child gets and orange and banana. So little is met with joyous smiles. A first bag for many. The little boy who was frightened runs and grabs his bag but never comes close.
Homes of mud and stick meet our eyes with rejection of the possibility people can live this way. The families each have little fields in front of their homes. This is true subsistence farming. And this is tiger country.
We leave then go to a small church CFH helped to build many years ago. A place of sanctuary for many. Some of the school children attend small programs during the year that enhance their lives. They learn songs and get treats for a few hours. As we drive away I watch two 5 year olds carry large round disks of dung into their field. Piles dot the barren land as the first planting is about to take place. One child is showing the other child how to dump this precious material! Two five year olds working, just amazing.
As we continue I see a father trying to help his 6 year old son carry his new book bag. The young man cries out in terror and keeps a tight hold of it. The father waves to us with a great smile and allows his small one to continue down the dusty road hanging on to his precious new prize.
Always in His name….
Pam