My volunteer experience in Nepal included a wonderful stay at Manjushri School in Pharping, Nepal. This is an excerpt from my journal during my stay in 2009. I miss my wonderful friends in Nepal and hold them in my heart always.
Pharping village is rustic, timeless and there is absolutely no rush to go anywhere, with the exception of the boys on their motorcycles speeding up the hill. The villagers greet me happily with “Namaste” and have invited me in for tea more than once regardless of our language differences.
The women work very hard here and hold village together. They are truly the foundation on which this culture is built. I see little old ladies, not more than 90 lbs carry their weight in wood on their backs to sell in the village. It would never occur to the speeding motorcycles to stop and help these women. It’s just not done.
There is a communal water faucet not far and in the early morning, containers line up to be filled for the day’s allotment of water. The rest of the day it is used for laundry and showers and I have yet to observe it unoccupied.
Garbage decorates the one paved road in the village as scruffy ducks, chickens, and dogs scavenge through. The only playground is a small grassy area reserved for football, so the little girls are left to their own devices. They ingeniously invented a makeshift swing alongside the road. They sit on the middle of a long scarf and throw the ends over a bar above their heads. Then hold on tightly to the ends as no knots are tied to anything and then they swing, bearing all their own weight. It’s brilliant really and sweet to observe except that they’re directly over a two-foot drainage ditch. More than once I’ve seen them climb out of the ground after they lost their grip.
In this otherwise grubby landscape however some women are exquisitely attired in their bright colored saris. Turquoise, fuchsia, ruby red and emerald silks float gracefully as they stroll along garbage-strewn streets. On these same streets are red-robed monks and nuns of varying ages, men languishing at businesses, children playing and the ever-present stray duck, dog, chicken or goat. The juxtaposition is extraordinary.
I did escape my little oasis for two days and took a taxi into Kathmandu. I luxuriated at an old palace – turned hotel. Luxury includes breakfast buffet, both hot and cold running water, bathtub, AC, laundry service and TV. I shopped all I wanted and purchased a few “western” items available only in the tourist area. I was ready to return to the serene pace of my village after my first taxi ride. There is no hierarchy in the use of the accelerator, brake or horn. Drivers appear to use them indiscriminately and with equal fervor. I sit in the backseat in passive surrender, refuse to watch and am gratefully astounded when I arrive at my chosen destination yet again, unscathed.
At the monastery today is puja, or a special time of the month set aside for worship. Five more senior monks have joined us for the event and the school’s founder/Rinproche arrives today to officiate the proceedings. Boys have been practicing on their Tibetan horns, which to my untrained ear never rises above the sound of tuning the gigantic instrument. The schedule is unbeknownst to me as I am only a spectator but there has been a lot of preparation for the occasion. I have just one precious week left at my refuge and I intend to make the most of it.