Monsoon

 Namaste.

Water!  Pouring off the hills, dripping from the leaves, splashing in the puddles, tumbling over rocks in the streams and roaring down the rivers.  The constant sound of raindrops pervades. Everything is sodden. It is monsoon time in Nepal!

The road to Besisahar has become a mess; boulders and small landslips, which have fallen down the hillside, restricting the road width in many places, huge potholes filled with water and knee deep fords where the side streams cross the main road.  Two smooth rock faces beside the road have turned into torrential waterfalls, one spectacularly high with white water streaming down it. It is not surprising that there are so many difficulties with the condition of roads in Nepal, when you see the power of running water at this time.

Lying awake at night I listen to a cacophony of noise; from the stream that runs beside my house (but has never had water in it until now), the frogs croaking and cicadas scraping; one variety actually whine like a drilling machine struggling to keep going.  

How green all the vegetation is too!  Everything is growing so fast. The young rice in the paddies has coated the hillsides in emerald and the forests are lush. 

However work weeding the rice paddies is a very wet activity, so the Nepalis have invented a special umbrella-hat, leaving hands free. Simple but effective!

It is hot and uncomfortable because of the humidity, especially for a ‘bideshi’ from a cool European climate.  At around 24C.degrees at 8pm as I write this, it will be too hot to sleep comfortably.  My walks to school, even when cooler early in the morning, leave me wringing wet with sweat, and I need to carry a change of clothes to freshen up before I start work.  No wonder the schools shut for 5 weeks during July and August because of the monsoon!

The river in March

Yesterday, on the way to one of the nearest school, much of the path had turned into a rushing stream.  

The river in August after heavy rain.

From the bridge over the main Marsyngi Khola, the river was unrecognisable from the one I had seen a few months before.  A roaring torrent of water, double the size of the dry season river, was charging down the valley.  

The water was brown/grey with the silt it carried, and I’m sure there were lots of boulders being rolled down the valley within this torrent.  No wonder there are so many large boulders visible when the water level is low, 10 Kilometres down the valley. 

Even the small stream up a side valley near the school, had become a fair sized river.  I stopped and stared in wonder at the ford; here back in February I had managed to cross without getting wet feet.  Now the force of the water would have carried me away if I had attempted that! Fortunately there is also a suspension bridge further upstream so we were able to reach the school.

In places long streams of water fall, bubbling and white, down from the hills above.

A tree covered in large white flowers caught my attention – beautifully scented and with an interesting shape, this was a flower I hadn’t seen before.  This tree looks very dull and ordinary during the rest of the year, but comes into its own with the rain of the monsoon.

Pheri bheTaulaa

Lamjung Durbar

Namaste.

Several hundred years ago Lamjung was one of the small kingdoms that have since been merged to make a unified country of Nepal.  The king of Lamjung had a small palace, the Durbar, perched on top of the hill overlooking Besisahar.  Dianne, a Dutch volunteer, was visiting for the weekend, so we went for a walk up to the palace on Saturday morning. 

Because it is the monsoon season we left early in the morning, to walk while it was still cool and also to avoid the heavy rain which we frequently have during the late afternoon.  This was a really good decision, as not only was it cool and dry, but it was also very quiet with almost no-one else on the path or at the palace when we got there.

The path took us steeply uphill, mostly up steps, but the vegetation surrounding the path was lush and green, due to the recent monsoon rainfall.  It was hard work climbing the stone steps – and we became very hot despite the relative cool of the morning. 

We passed some children from nearby houses, who had been picking flowers.  They walked with us for a short while and then presented me with a posy of their flowers, which we wore in our hair for the rest of the day.

Near the top, one of the houses in the surrounding hamlet had a beautiful garden full of flowers.  When the lady of the house saw me taking photos she invited us into her garden and was delighted to have photos of her and her family taken.



Her baby was fast asleep, snuggled into a tiny makeshift hammock slung between posts on her veranda. 








 

Eventually, after this detour, we reached the old palace.  In front of the main entrance is a stone paved courtyard surrounded by steps.  I thought initially this area was for water, but I was later informed that it is a small arena for dancing and music performances, with the steps as seating.

Nearby is a large bell, that had been decorated with flowers and red tikka powder, though I’m unsure of the purpose of the bell or why it was decorated.  The doors and windows of the Durbar were simply carved and all decorated similarly, with flowers and tikka.

Not large or palatial, the Durbar is obviously a well cared for and honoured place, and we spent a tranquil hour wandering the gardens, taking photos.  The hibiscus flowers were stunning, as were some large pink flowers growing in the grassy bank behind the building.

There were no views from the top, as we were up in the clouds, but as we made our way back down, the clouds parted to give us a great view of the town below.  I could even pick out my flat amongst the buildings. (It's the pale blue building left of the royal blue roof in the foreground of the photo.)

Pheri bheTaulaa

A coat of paint.

Namaste

Would you like to spend all day working in a room where the walls are covered in ingrained dirt, old graffiti and torn and faded papers? Would you feel inspired to work harder?  What message does a working environment like this give to the workers who use it daily?

Sadly some classrooms in the government schools I work with in Nepal are like this, and yet we expect young students to come to school every day, want to be there and feel inspired about their education.  I feel desperately sad at the state of these classrooms.  When a group of young volunteers offered to paint some classrooms I was delighted.

Twelve ICS volunteers, young people between the ages of 18 and 25, of both British and Nepali nationality, wanted to help. They work and live in pairs, each Nepali volunteer with a British partner, and spend 3 months at their placement, working on community projects.  Everyone gains from this arrangement. The Nepali volunteer travels and lives in a totally different place to his or her home, and through practise speaking English to their partner, develops fluency and correct pronunciation. Their British counterpart travels, works and lives within a totally different country and culture.  Of course, the community where they work gains from their unpaid work too.

The volunteers arrived by bus and we immediately set off to walk to the school, about an hour away, carrying all paint and tools needed.  The day was a public holiday so there were no students at school, just some children playing, very curious to know what we were doing there.

Our first job, before painting could start, was to clean the walls and remove all the old paper stuck to them.  Within minutes of arriving everyone was busy with buckets of water, cloths and scrapers clearing the walls of the first classroom.  The ingrained dirt was almost impossible to remove, as were the faded and torn pictures stuck to the wall. This classroom had not seen a coat of paint for many years.

Once clean, one group of volunteers began painting this first room, whilst the rest continued with cleaning the walls of the next classroom.  A production line evolved: the painting team following the cleaning group, classroom by classroom. 

The walls were so filthy that the first coat of paint hardly covered the dirt, and so a second coat was applied to the walls when the first was dry. Eventually three coats of paint were needed to achieve a good clean result. 

Despite the heat of the day, these young volunteers worked incredibly hard, helped by one teacher and the caretaker from the school. After three hours of concentrated effort a halt was called; the paint we had brought with us was all gone!  

Two of the four classrooms were finished, and the other two were ready for another coat early next morning when we could return with more paint. By midday the next day all was complete and the extra paint finished.  The classrooms walls were clean and white and the rooms ready for use again. 

 Look at the before and after photographs of one of the classrooms.  

Before.

After painting!

What a fantastic difference! Thank you ICS volunteers for giving up your free time for this project.

In the morning the delight on the young students faces, at their transformed classrooms, was reward in itself for the hard work.  They stood and gazed at the walls with beaming smiles. There were claps and cheers of appreciation for the volunteer painters. 

What a worthwhile project this was.  In 6 hours, with 12 volunteers and at the cost of 6,000 rupees for paint (around £42), four classrooms have been transformed.  Now it is time for other schools in Nepal to follow this lead and improve their classroom environments!  

Pheri bheTaulaa

Carrying the load

Namaste
As many villages in the rural parts of Nepal are only reached on foot, transporting most things to these places has to be done by man-power, or often woman-power! Many of these village people are incredibly strong and carry loads I would struggle to even lift.  How far could you carry a large bag of cement?



Loads are frequently transported in a basket called a 'doko', which is carried by a strap which goes across the forehead. For the people who carry doko the muscles in the neck must develop over time to become very strong.  Some children as young as 7 or 8 years already carry lighter loads of straw or leaves for their families.  I have seen even younger children playing at carrying loads, with small bags on their backs and handles across their foreheads.







Wood is needed for cooking by many village communities and I often see people carrying doko stacked with logs, bringing them down from the hills.  (I'll never complain again about having to carry a small basket of logs into my house in UK for my wood-burning fire.) As village people fell and use the nearby trees, over time they have to travel ever greater distances to fetch the wood they need.There is concern that this wood use is not sustainable, but people need fuel for their cooking fires.

Doko are frequently used to assist with agriculture; to transport fodder for animals, seed or seedlings for planting or to take rotted manure out to the fields.  This spring I have seen many fields dotted with cone-shaped piles of manure, but  I find it hard to imagine the smell one has to endure while carrying a basket of manure! (Sadly they haven't yet invented a way of adding particular smells to a blog, have they? Shame!!)

A doko of maize

A basket of dried grass

When a house is to be built, bags of cement, sand or loads of bricks may need to be carried quite a distance to the building site, often uphill.  Frequently women carry these heavy loads, whilst the men do the actual construction.

Although doko are for sale in shops in towns, in many villages doko are made when the old ones are falling apart and new ones are needed.  The photos below show ones being made in a village.

Beautifully made and very strong too.

Besides carrying, these baskets are incredibly versatile and are put to many other uses - containers for chicks or hens and litter bins to name but two. 

Just another everyday way that the people of Nepal use their natural resources.

Pheri bheTaulaa  (see you again)

(Many thanks to Helen for the use of some of her photos.)

Bless this house!

Namaste,
One morning, when I arrived at the office recently, I was surprised to see the shop below our premises had been completely transformed overnight. There was sheeting covering all the produce which had been moved to the back of the shop, and the cleared space had been turned into a place of prayer.
Lots of chairs had been arranged outside, and a tarpaulin stretched above for shade, so obviously many guests were expected.



There were offerings and flowers covering the carpeted floor and a small fire burning on the concrete. The landlord informed me they were holding a special day of prayer and celebration to bless the house and family.

The landlord's mother enjoying the celebrations

During the day, whilst we worked upstairs, we were aware of many different noises - a horn blowing at times, chanting of prayers and gradually the sound of many people.  Looking down from the balcony we could see a large crowd of relations, the women dressed in their best colourful clothes and some of the men in traditional outfits, processing around the fire which had been built outside on the side of the road. They were singing and throwing grain into the fire.

I went downstairs to watch what was happening and one of the family, who spoke good English, kindly explained to me all about the event.

Later, when work was almost over, we were all invited to join the party.  To start with we were given a plate with banana pieces and a large 'sel roti', (almost like a fried doughnut but not sweet). Large vats of food had been prepared and vegetable curry, dahl and a sort of milky, spicy rice were being served to everyone, once they had finished the starter. Delicious!

Rice, dahl and vegetable curry being served

We sat on the chairs in the road and joined in the party.

My colleagues and I enjoying the food.

I was told that the celebrations would continue into the evening with dancing, but I didn't stay for that. I had a school visit the next morning to prepare for!
















What a privilege to be invited to join the family for this important festival. 'Thank you' to our landlord for inviting us.  He obviously enjoyed himself - as you can see from the photo below!

Flowers of the high places of Nepal

Namaste.

Coltsfoot growing beside a rock

I have been surprised by the similarity of the flowers growing wild in the foothills of the Himalaya, to the ones found in my spring garden in UK.  In March the path on our Annapurna trek was lined with beautiful spring flowers; primulas both in pale violet and purple spherical ones, coltsfoot and winter jasmine to name just a few. Again this is a blog page comprising mainly of photographs - words not needed.  Many thanks to Helen for the use of her photos.

Purple spherical Primulas

Tiny Winter Jasmine plant

Tiny primrose type flowers

Rhododendrons grow wild up in the hills, and grow into tall trees. However, I have only seen them with red, pink and white flowers, not the wild purple ones we have as escapees from our gardens in the UK. Of course they may be growing wild in another part of Nepal where I haven't yet visited.

Some flowers are much more spectacular, like the beautiful tree and rock orchids that we saw on our trek to Annapurna Base Camp.

However one plant that I have never seen before, that was growing only near one hamlet high up in the valley was this Cobras Head plant, that looked similar to the pitcher plant family, with a bent over top resembling the head of the snake. Very special and different!