I have a special place in my heart for Nepal since my visit six years ago. My thought was it would be a brief stopover on my way to India, but I was greatly mistaken. I spent six weeks here and had some of the most wonderful adventures of my life. This story is about one of my most wonderful experiences. I’m sending lots of love and blessings to all residents in Nepal and special hugs to all my friends. This story is in the present tense, just as I wrote it in June, 2009.
Home is where the heart is and mine is unquestionably here at the monastery in Pharping. I arrived just two short weeks ago and truly there is no other place I’d rather be. I’ve come to adore all 60 boys ages 5-21 and will miss them greatly when I leave next week. They tell me that they’re learning a lot from me and all of them want me to stay longer. As a teacher, there’s no greater compliment. Even the little ones with all their energy seem to enjoy my lessons and I affectionately refer to them as monk-keys.
Life here is relatively simple and enjoyable despite the grueling schedule. The day begins at the 5:30am bell (one of the boys pounds on a round flat piece of metal) and I finish teaching all 60 students in seven classes, twelve hours later with a two-hour rest after lunch. Before school, the students line up, face their classrooms and sing a prayer asking Buddha to grant them the wisdom to learn. It is extraordinarily beautiful to hear their voices and it is one sound I will miss when I go. The boys continue until 9:30pm and end their day with a 90-minute debate in Tibetan Buddhism philosophy. The senior students rapidly fire questions to the younger monks and they must quickly defend their answer. It’s quite a lively affair and is serious, intense, but superimposed with a great deal of pleasure. The boys release any saved energy playing football (soccer) on the cement court. Amazingly, their robes and flip-flops do not inhibit their intensity and enjoyment of the game.
My room is modest, but comfortable and I gratefully have my own bathroom. The toilet, sink and shower are in one small room but the shower is just a faucet out of the wall. The runoff goes in the drain behind the toilet. The shower has both hot and cold faucets, but one is superfluous. The hot water emerges from a black plastic tank on the roof and usually hits my shower about the time I finish rinsing my hair. My small plastic garbage can doubles as my washing machine and I greatly reduced my wardrobe to accommodate it. I have just one electrical outlet that I expend far too much energy scheduling the charging of my phone, computer, light and kettle between my full agenda and the numerous power cuts.
Surprisingly, I’ve become a vegan and quiet unintentionally too. I eat Dal Bhat twice daily and earlier I thought I would starve on a diet of rice, vegetables and soup, but the cook here is a master at his craft. I’ve come to love his culinary delights and am tempted to skip teaching and spend a morning in the kitchen.
As the only female in the Manjushri School, I enjoy my meals with four male staff members: the senior monk in charge, the school administrator, the paid English teacher and the philosophy teacher. The senior monk doesn’t speak English, but I soon learned he understands everything I say. If he has a comment, he replies in Tibetan to the administrator who then responds in English to me. He appeared to me to be a very serious fellow until I observed him happily interacting with the littlest monk-keys.
We have three huge cows and one goat tethered on the property near the garden. I stumbled upon them when I was in search of the rubbish bin, which as it turns out, is a fire pit. I knew about the cows, but was surprised to discover such a fine specimen of a billy goat. I shared my recent discovery at dinner and was told that he was on his way to the butcher, but the monks saved his life so he resides here. When I suggested they get him a girlfriend to pass on those fine billy-goat genes, the senior monk responded (in Tibetan) to the administrator. All four men laughed at his retort and I looked imploringly at the administrator for a translation. I was told emphatically, “He is a monk.”
For information about volunteering in Nepal: http://questvolunteer.weebly.com/index.html
Comments
One response to “Nepal, Part one”
I do love that goat story…it gave me a good laugh!