Behind the Scenes of NGO Work

Wintertime means being at home, and working on fund-raising for our upcoming HANDS projects. Half way around the world, two schools sit competed and being used in two separate and equally remote villages in the Ganesh Himalayas-all due to HANDS in Nepal fund-raising efforts, and you, our kind and generous supporters.
Now the new project for 2012-a library in the village of Phulkharta, or sometimes spelled "Fulkharta"-where school number two was just completed. I am very excited about this new library project-it will be a trial in how necessary and useful libraries are in this remote corner of the world. It is something I've dreamed about for the past few years since involving myself with my son's NGO, and something I feel very strongly about.
Libraries have played an important role in my life-from the time I was small and my mother would park my sister and I there as a convenient and (back then) safe haven while she ran errands (being a single Mom she was always in need of such aids!). I discovered so much about the world in those musty shelves of our little hometown library. There were the children fiction books, but equally fascinating were the adult nonfiction, the rows of neatly arranged National Geographics, and the table with the "3-D" panoramic viewfinder View Masters! (you can actually still buy these on Amazon, and I plan to purchase quite a few to take to Nepal with me) The world seemed big back then, and full of intrigue! I wasn't a big reader at that small age but I became one because I wanted to learn what these books had to tell me about the world. I began with easy readers like Dr. Seuss and his play on words and worked my way up to Walter Farley's Black Stallion series and on to classics. I haven't stopped.
Much of my travel in Nepal is aided by my "Tibetan" son, Kelsang Lodue, a refugee we met some years back who has since become a trusted and dear friend while we are finding our way around Kathmandu's crazy streets and outskirts. He is a translator and helper in negotiating taxis and bus rides to the villages. Once he took me from Kathmandu to Delhi, India, a 3-day trip on a government bus that would have nearly killed me had he not been along. But one thing Kelsang cannot do is read. He has had to work his whole life and has never been to school.
We bring him and our other non-reading friends picture books and postcards and talk endlessly about the world outside their known borders. It has confirmed my belief in libraries-a place where one can sit and look and learn and browse and slowly ease into the literate world, picture book by magazine by panoramic View Master! It can be a place of refuge from the hard life of working in fields, cooking and endless chores, to go for a peek into what a villager cannot even imagine, but would love to see and learn of. Our talks of the "modern" world are endlessly fascinating, and while you may think those who hear these fantastical stories feel blue hearing of what they have not, it has been my experience that they are entertained, their minds broadened a bit, and a feeling more of being connected and having many things in common with modern world people-love of children, desire for a better life, health care, better schools and a quest to know the order and meaning of things.
So we are going to build a library! The villagers of Phulkharta are excited and so are we at HANDS in Nepal. I will keep a running blog account here of how it goes, and seek to inform those readers of how it happens. We will post it also on our HANDS website: www.handsinnepal.org-and encourage anyone to write comments or ask questions. That in turn helps us to learn and keeps us asking ourselves the right questions as we take one careful step at a time on the Nepali NGO path!
Namaste and Happy New Year to All! Amma Jan

Anis, Kora, Sewing and HANDS!

Here are some scenes that will help you visualize what I've been writing about for the past month! It's hard to know what photos will come up as I type these descriptions, because it's all "coded" until you hit "publish"-so here's a general description: The Fearless HANDS in Nepal team, in Boudha, Nepal, the cow is a calf who was always walking around the great stuppa with all the Tibetans (must be a very enlightened cow!) visiting the Arya Tara school of destitute and poor girls, Jan falls in love with little Ani (ani means Nun in Tibetan) Urgan Dolma, who was dropped off her after her mom could no longer care for her-also, shopping for Tibetan beads from Tibetan lady and sewing machines, including shouldering the machine in two parts up the trail to its new home!

Taking Care of Business in the Land of Buddha

I rode inmy little taxi soaking in all the sights of early morning Kathmandu-the sleepy women kneeling at shrines, ringing bells in front of Krisna, or Ganesh, or Buddha, or Shiva or...pasting red tikka on their foreheads, maybe taking a kernal of rice from the shrine and putting it on their tongue. A long line of soldiers jogged down the narrow lane and the dogs of Kathmandu, who enjoy the most dog freedom of any dogs I've ever known, were barking at them, some could not resist and joined in, weaving along the feet of the men, who ignored them, as people do with dogs here. Frut and vegetable vendors were getting out their wares and those in charge of the endless task of picking up garbage were shoveling it into wooden hand carts that looked as if they were made a thousand years ago. Paper trash is swept in tidy piles and set on fire. All was well and life hums along here in this creaky, dusty, ancient city set in the mountains at the top of the world. It is an amazing place!
I have been reflecting back on what we have accomplished this trip, for HANDS in Nepal and for ourselves, personally, for doing our "mission" of HANDS is also so much a personal journey. We started in India and tutored English with Tibetan refugees and monks in Dharamsala and did what we could to help a young Tibetan group put on a Tibetan cultural show. In Nepal, we took 24 orphans out of their disheveled orphanage on an all-day field trip to the Royal Palace and museum (their choice!) and then out to eat at the Tibetan "Dream Cafe". We inspected both schools HANDS built, one school financed by the very generous Dworak family of Minnesota, Danny and Bree trekked to the villages of both and spent many days talking, photographing and interviewing the villagers, had ceremonies and made assessments of both schools and future needs. We had Naropa professor Debbie Young from USA visit both schools as well, adding her expertise, and hired a translator -Jamu- for the first time, so we clarified many issues we've been muddling through. We found the Tibetan Reception Center outside Kathmandu where the refugees are brought to recuperate from long treks over the Himals, and we gave donations after donations to provide scholarships to now 9 poor children who otherwise would not be going to school, one a 5 year old at the Arya Tara school for destitute and poor girls in Pharphing. I met an amazing women in her late 60's, Ruth, who is running an afterschool program for poor children all on her own dollar. I had tea with Sherry, another American woman much like myself, who is here to see what good she can bring to an orphanage for girls and for children who work in brick factories outside Kathmandu. We bought a sewing machine for a needy family who are already learning how to use it and starting their family business with it and made donations to many sewing cooperatives, ordering goods made through them as well as helping them design and make useful items for sale back in the USA. We visited a Tibetan refugee camp and discovered the source of yak hair blankets and shawls and bought many of them, also for sale and to help support their many programs at the camp.
My biggest project here was the start of my store: The Compassionate Yak. I will focus on only buying from Tibetan refugees and womens sewing coops that I have visited and ensured they are indeed benefiting the women who are running them (and not a sweat shop overseen by business men). Danny and Bree were instrumental in countless meetings over Nepali tea and "duk" coffee, sitting on rooftop cafes, overlooking amazing scenes below as we dreamed and "schemed" how to help the good and yet so poor, people here. This is one of the poorest countries on Earth, in an extreme location and a precarious one, as Nepal sits between India and China. We leave with Nepal and the people here entrenched in our hearts- and feel such a tight bond, especially with the children who's lives we've been able to touch. They have certainly touched ours and I know as I try to soak in every last sight of Kathmandu that I will always be bond to return and do what little we can. HANDS was born with the wish to build one school, now we have two and possible a third in the works. And a store that helps support education and welfare of poor women and refugees. Mother Teresa was right-if we had not started with the thought that we could at least build one simple school, we would not be here where we are today. But mostly, we would not be here without the loving kindness expressed by friends we also have met and who have joined us on this amazing journey! Today is the birthday of His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, and I will part with his words: True happiness lies in helping others. If you want to be happy, help others! It's true! I have practiced it and it works. I feel tremendous happiness in my work here and leave with a happy heart and tears in my eyes for the love I feel for the good people I have met on this amazing journey!- Namaste and Tashi Delek-Jan

So I was watching monkey's at Swayombuth...

For the last two days I've been enjoying a break from the hustle and bustle of Kathmandu,NGO work and visiting schools scouting for needy scholarship applicants by trying my best to do nothing at the Yoga In Nepal retreat center. Let me describe just a little of what this unique place is like. First, you journey via taxi up a rocky and rutty gravel path that seems impossible for the little Suzuki taxis here to travel on (yet they do by the grace of Shiva or some other powerful god that adorns their dash). Through tall iron gates, you are let into a garden of eden-beautiful landscaped garden, butterflies and birds chirping, a background of forested green hills. There are four large safari tents you stay in,each with two beds with nice,soft comforters and your own small stone porch with chairs. Because the tiny retreat center is on a hillside, you have amazing views of the city below and one of the most sacred Buddhist holy sites in the world- Swayambhunath-a hill from where some mighty things were said to have originated, including the Kathmandu Valley, when the god Manjushri cut the lake that once filled the valley in half with his sword, freeing the water, and a lotus island that is Swayambhu today (nath means place of worship). Maybe that's what brought Buddha here a few thousand years ago, along with a long line of other holy prophets and saints, to preach on this revered hilltop, that is now revered by countless vendors as a chance to sell their assortment of mallas, Tibetan singing bowls and Nepali handicrafts. Oh, and monkeys have also claimed the holy site. They are walking in and around the prayer wheels here, and sacred statues have to be enclosed in cages so monkeys don't rob them of the offerings left -- still I saw monkey after monkey reach as far inside a shrine as the cage would allow to snatch at rice or flowers or anything edible that might have been stuffed at the feet of a Buddha or Tara. A sight that had me double-over in laughter was a monkey who had snatched an article of monk clothing-a red robe, and was playing with pulling it over his head, and wrapping it around and around his little primate body-hilarious! The way to the top of Swayambu is enough to make any one believe they are on a sacred pilgrimage, despite the vendors and monkeys plying you for anything you have to offer-there are some 365 stone steps that lead up to the main stuppa at the top, but half way up, sweat running down my face, I felt it was more like 3,365..at the top, you run smack into a chock-a-block of ancient statues and carvings, inscriptions in stone that date back to who knows and amazing small temples who's walls are covered in soot from millions of incense burnings. It is truly a historic and I do believe a UNESCO World Heritage Site-there are even Buddha's footprints carved in stone (I'd say he wore the same size sandal as Danny!) But if you tire of all the historic and religious artifacts, there's the monkey show! One thing I so enjoy around Buddhist sites is the "live and let live" philosophy that enshrouds all the sites here-I've seen doves nesting inside buildings and a huge hornet's nest hanging from the outer eves of a monastery. Monkeys here enjoy the same freedom and lack of bother from anyone. In fact there's a "monkey swimming pool" at the base of one of the levels of the shrine area-complete with tree branches to swing and drop into the water, and nice runways to get a good start to your swan (monkey?) dive. I was having a good time watching all the monkey shennigans, and decided to pull out a bag of potato chips I had brought with me-oh boy-BIG MISTAKE!! Monkeys seem to be honed in to noticing anything edible being pulled from a bag (they barely glanced at my wallet when I'd pull it out) as soon as they saw the Lay's bag they were on me like a dog after a hotdog! I screamed "Nay Nay" (NO!) and had the bag AND my other bag which contained a wooden sculpture of Ganesh that I had just bargained long and hard for, robbed by little monkey claws-one a MOTHER with her tiny baby holding on for dear life. I didn't care about the chips but that statue was something I had already had envisoned near the entry way for home, and I was determined to chase that monkey down and get it back! I took after the little scoundrel but it was like our rascal terrier Turbo who chases things only to realize he has no back up-as soon as I got off the footpath, more monkeys than I cared to deal with rushed me, chattering in what I can only imagine were monkey curses! These are red-bottomed Reshus (sp?) monkeys-quite large-and furious looking when they bare their large canines. I soon went running backwards to the cement area, with many Nepalis laughing hysterically. I wasn't about to give up. I could see my bag with Ganesh statue discarded in the shrubs after they realized it was unedible, so I opened my umbrella, secured by shoulder bag around me tightly, and entered their primate habitat opening and closing my umbrella and yelling as bravely as I could "Bad Monkey!" This just about drove the Nepalis who had gathered to watch this show into tearful hysterics. I had my own cheering section of little Nepali boys who couldn't believe this "Farangi" had the nerve to confront the monkey gods, and for what? This old, worn out wooden head of a Ganesh?? (I had actually retrieved this carving from a shop keeper's trash pile and loved it so much I offered him 100 rupees (about $2) for it. The monkeys' to my surprise, retreated-and I snatched my Ganesh head and fled backwards (not about to turn my back on a troop of monkey's who own the area) to the "people" area.
I thought of future projects-a kid's book about the monkey's of Swayambu, wondering if they had been there during Buddha's time. Were they just as crafty? Or did that extra craftiness come with the invention of ice cream and Lays'? On our way back down the thousands of steps, I saw a little boy about to bite into his newly purchased ice cream cone-first stopping to admire the drips and heaps of vanilla,like a tiny version of Mt. Everest. and yep-before he could take one bite of the delicious confection, a monkey leaped, snatched, and took off, leaving the kid stunned and confused for a good minute before bursting into wails. I knew just how he felt!

We have six children now that have fully paid education scholarships thanks to donations by generous people like you! They are: 1. Sushil, grade 8
2. Sabina, grade 5
3. Samjhana, grade 5,
4. Surendra, grade 7,
5. Susshan, grade 6
6. Sobit, grade 6

There is also a photo here of the Rogpa Tibetan sewing cooperative that we are supporting by having them make us laptop bags!!

Here are some photos from our trip: Danny handing Dr. Bronner soap donation from to Durga -he also was able to give her a sizable donations to pay for scholarships for 6 children at orphanage; one of the woman who benefited from the sewing coop micro-finance; children athing at the BCH orphanage; Jan giving out clothes and doll to beggars on kora path at Dalai Lama temple on Buddha's Birthday.....

The Singing Nuns

Ani Choying is a Buddhist nun in Kathmandu who has started a wonderful school for girls that we visited the other day. But first a word of what I know of Ani Choying-what little I know, from an article I read about her in Tricycle magazine last year. She is knows as the "singing nun" because of her beautiful, pure voice. I know that's true, having purchased quite a few of her CD's on my last trip here, but she discovered her voice in a sad way. She was severely abused as a young girl growing up in a poor family in Kathmandu, and her father would get drunk and beat her. To overcome the great sadness she'd feel at the abuse, she would sing to herself. She later joined a monastery for women in Nepal to escape her abusive father. As a young girl at Nagi Gompa, where she took refuge from her hard life, she saw how much support was given to the monks and their superior educational opportunities, while the same could not be said for the nuns. As her fame as a "singing nun" grew, Ani was able to use her resources and influence to build and start a school for poor and destitute girls, as she had once been. Today this is the Arya Tara School in Pharping, about 15 miles up in the hills outside Kathmandu.
I found myself there recently with Bree and Danny, we had a scenic and tense at times (drunk guy next to me falling out of his seat at every turn-steep dropoffs and tight turns as we climbed up and up in our Indian government bus) and finally topped out in a picturesque, green, wooded hillside of pine forests and gold spired "gompas" (Buddhist for temple). We walked a lovely dirt road with commanding views of Kathmandu far below us, and came to imposing gates that were opened by Danny's friend Tashi, who is a teacher here. He escorted us to see several of the classrooms, all full of girls from age 5 (the youngest) to in the teens. The girls were happy, cheerful and had excellent English. We chatted with many of them, who didn't seem at all to mind we had interrupted their classwork. Most are parentless for various reasons, one said her mother died and father no longer wanted her (common in poor areas like this) some had lost both parents, some had parents who brought them to the school because they could not afford to take care of them. None of the girls seemed to mind our nosey questions. We were curious, as we struggled to understand the needs of Nepal and how best we can use our HANDS in Nepal resources, above and beyond the building of schools. Here was a wonderful school, started by a singing nun, with 65 girls getting an excellent education and full care, from medical to art and music. We got a tour of the kitchen, where the girls take turns cooking, to the dorm rooms, with bunk beds made neatly and most with a stuffed animal on a pillow and books arranged between beds showing many of the titles enjoyed by girls everywhere ("The Little Prince, Harry Potter"), and even a large TV room ,with no furniture but a carpet to sit on, and the "puja" room for morning prayers and Buddhist chants. A huge garden filled one side, with corn and other vegetables, gray water piped from the shower and kitchen area, and there was also a large computer room equipped with desk tops and the "one for one" non-profit lap tops we've heard so much about. All in all, we had such a fun day "hanging out" with the girls, and talking and taking pictures of them. We were so happy to know they had a good home and such good care, all due to a singing nun who's childhood had not been so great, who took that pain and made such a wonderful life for others. We decided sponsor the littlest girl there, who's name is Urgen Dolma, as a HANDS in Nepal scholarship recipient. That makes seven children now that we've been able to help with our donations. Namaste!!
If you are interested in learning more about the Arya Tara school and Ani Choying, please goggle: Nuns Welfare Foundation of Nepal and Ani Choying Dolma.
We ended our wonderful day with a hike up to some ancient and historic Buddhist meditation caves. This area was known to have been frequented by the great yogi and guru Padmashambhava, or Guru Rinpoche. He was an Indian yogi who brought the Buddha's teachings to Tibet, turning Tibet and their warrior people into peace-loving Buddhist. Considering how hard it is just to get up to Pharping and some of the villages we've trekked too, that's quite a feat, to think of traveling to Tibet in the days of Buddha! Some say he could fly-some say he meditated in the caves we hiked up to for years without eating. Whatever is true, he must of been quite a character and a wonderful guru to sit in a cave and shoot the breeze with! We pressed our hands into imprints on rock walls supposably made by his very hand, and chanted softly his mantra ":Om ah hum vajra guru padme sattiva" and made our way carefully back down in steady monsoon rainfall, each of us silently immersed in our thoughts of life in Guru Rinpoche's days, and the singing nuns of Arya Tara School.

Laxmi-Godess of Fortune

One of my ambitions on this trip to Kathmandu this year has been to find a deserving woman (or women) who's life would be enriched through the gift of a sewing machine. It was an idea spawned through reading the excellent book: "Half the Sky"-about the condition of women in the 3rd world. A simple sewing machine can mean a way to make a living, to be independent of other jobs that require an "owner" and even make the difference between having to sell one's body as a last hope for food or having the ability to earn a living. I wasn't sure how it would work, but several friends had enough faith in me (including my good brother, who never seems to doubt my crazy schemes!) to donate money towards a machine. In the end, I came to Nepal with enough money for several treadle machines.
The hard part wasn't finding a woman who needed a machine, the streets here are filled with poor women, babies tied on their backs, begging or selling a pitiful assortment of matches, gum or a handful of chilies on the street. It was how to choose from the hundreds I see who would benefit the most-and then the reality of how they would store the machine or where to put it if they were on the street-or how to train them to use it-or how to help them purchase thread and cloth. Suddenly my head began to spin with the enormity of what I was trying to do. My husband reminded me, in a late night phone call to cry on his shoulder, that this would be worthy of a Peace Corps project and then you get two years to put the plan in action, not a few weeks.
So I started with Danny's and Bree's help-finding cooperatives already operating here, and interviewing the women actually doing this type of work as to how they got stated. Bree was essential in that and had many good questions to ask of the women we met. And that's how we met Laxm.
For those of you who are familiar with Hindu gods and goddesses, Laxmi is the very pretty one sitting on a pile of gold surrounded on each side by white elephants who spout gold coins into her lap. She is who you pray to when you want success in life or your business. But being named after this prosperous goddess isn't enough. For the real Laxmi, who now operates her own tailoring stall in a side neighborhood of Kathmandu called Jorpati, her path was long and troubled. She is Nepali, what caste I am not sure, but her husband threw her and their young son out on the streets when he fell in love with a younger, more beautiful woman. On the streets literally, with no means to make a living, and no family in the area, (this is often how women here end up on the streets) she was forced to beg to earn enough money for food. She and her young son lived in conditions worse than the worse poverty you can imagine, breathing the fumes of diesel buses, plying the passerbys for coins and growing weaker through starvation and malnutrition. Then she found Durga Manali and her micro-finance group. Durga is the industrious woman who runs the orphanage we have worked with for the past four years-she not only provides a home for the 50 some children at Buddhist Child Home, but has started a micro-finance non-profit that gives very low, small business loans to women in need. Laxmi was such a woman. After an interview and application process, Laxmi was given enough money to set up a small tailoring, or sewing stall in the neighborhood. She now has three sewing machines in her tiny, cramped stall of about 8 x 8 feet, which consists of three walls and is open in front to all who pass by. The bare cement walls are covered with her creations in a multitude of colors and fabrics-she now has at least one other young lady who is working for her sewing that we saw the day we visited. She was so happy to have us come see her small shop that she sent a boy out for warm soda for us (yes, the hot, green bottle of Sprite that I dread but drink with respect and honor!). She told us through our translator that her life before the microloan and sewing business had been one of despair and horror, The sewing machines had given her new life and hope. Her smile lit up the dusty air around us and she happily showed us some small mala bags she stitches up with remenents-small round purses with double drawstrings and lined with colorful fabrics-I bought up all she had and ordered 20 more. Her dream is to purchase a "good quality" machine, one that won't break down and will last a long time-the price-about $20,000 rubees (about $300 USD). She is waiting until she can afford to take out another microloan for that.
As we walked back to Durga's we talked of how best to support women like Laxmi-who have been given that opportunity to pull themselves literally out of the gutter because of a microloan-not a gift. We can easily buy the machine for Laxmi with the donations I've been given, but would that upset the system here? We are still talking about the best way to help women like this-input please!
Meanwhile, we have found several amazing women's cooperatives and one run by Tibetans who have been trained to sew to earn a living. I just left their place, where a group of about 6 women run sewing machines and also sit on the rug and do hand-stitching of the most amazing quality. I had them work up a laptop bag for me and just picked up the sample-it's beautiful! I am so impressed I am ordering 25 of them, it will help them out tremendously and if they sell in the USA it will help out HANDS. i will try to post a photo of the bags soon-they are so pretty I have no doubt friends will buy them-and so although I haven't yet solved the problem of who to give machines to, I have found many women who will benefit from purchasing items from them, so they can have a better life and a sustainable living-and not have to beg in the streets of Kathmandu or worse.
Maybe Laxmi is watching over them-and us-afterall!

Photos frm the Tibetan Refugee Camp-weaavers earn a living at the Tibetan cooperative and we find the source of yak hair blankets!!!

10 Minutes of Hearbreak

After listening to amazing stories in Dharamsala from Tibetan refugees about how they walk out of Tibet "over three mountains, across two rivers," often starving towards the last leg of their three or more week trip and sometimes with permanent effects on their frostbite limbs, the stories always end the same : "We go to Reception Center in Nepal and then stay there for one or more months to recover and then put on bus and go to Dharamsala" or other areas where Tibetan camps are set up for the refugees. When we first arrived In Kathmandu, we had lofty ambitions to take some of the books, clothes and toys we lugged half way around the world for needy children and go visit the camp and the recently arrived Tibetans. We knew from the stories told us that they were in dire circumstances, without money or possessions, depending on the kindness of the Nepali government to take them in and give them refugee until they can ready the safety net of the offices of the Dalai lama in India. We set off on the second day we arrived with a general idea of the locatin of the this center, but it's not publicized and most we asked had heard of it but had no idea where it was exactly. Thanks to our Tibetan friends here in Kathmandu, we did find out the neighborhood outside Kathmandu where it was. Our friend felt sure we could find it, we hopped in a taxi and through twists and turns down rutty dirt roads and past cramped shabby homes, we were let off in a field, where a large blue fence stood high enough you could not see over it. Guards were seen at the gate, and inside a small watch tower, all with guns. A sign read only that the area was under security and no photographs were allowed. There was no "Welcome" or name to this nondescript place of high walls, but we walked right up to the gate where the guard slid open a peep hole, glared at us and told us to go away. through the gap the portal made, we could see people sitting on grass, children wandering around a large compound and a two story building in the background. It seemed peaceful and quiet, the Tbietans chatted quietly and seem tired and very ragged. But we absolutely were told we could not come in. The guard talked Nepali to our friend and the message was to try again another day-why? Another Nepali mystery.
Today was our other day-we loaded up a bag with shorts, tee-shirts and even Hawaiian shirts donated by friends, dolls, and stuffed animals and made the long, sweaty taxi ride back to the Tibetan Reception Center. The same routine happened again-the guard warned us to go away. we said we wanted to talk to someone in charge and we had donations. The Nepali guard said we needed a letter from the U.N. to get in-we asked if there wasn't someone in charge we could "interview". the gate stayed close, the peep hole slide shut in our faces-we thought that was it-we found the place that the Tibetans end their huge, long journey,but we weren't successful in getting in or delivering our contributions. Then the gate creaked open-lots of small Tibetan children were running towards us, shouting greetings, but shoo'ed away by the guard with his baton. A Tibetan man came up to tell us sternly that this was a highly sensitive area-politically, and we would not be allowed in. We asked if we could give him the donations we had brought, and after chatting with him, and telling him we had been working in Dharamsala, he said we would be granted ten minutes with the Tibetan children and be able to hand them ourselves the things we brought. The gate slide open enough to allow us to step in about 10 feet into the compound, that was all. The curious children, cheeks sunburned a bright red, hair sticking out at all directions, looking very dis-sheveld and weary, feet shoeless, scarred and showing the damage of so much walk across such extreme conditions, happily grappbed our hands and looked directly in our eyes and said "Tashi Delek"! my heart broke. I had to fight back tears as one wave of emotoin after another overtook the reality sinking in-here they were-the very children we had heard so many stories about, who had walked so far and left families behind-for freedom, the freedom to be who they are-Tibetans. I didn't want their beautiful, smiling faces to be upset by my tears so I smiled as hard as i could and handed out our things with Danny and Bree-the children becoming so excited at each gift given. the little dolls were such a hit with the little girls who clutched them so tightly to their chests (thank you again dear Peggy-who made them) and the boys loved our California teeshirts. The guards were also smiling at the joy felt, and the children stared so curiously at our strange Western faces-i realized then we were probably the first Westerners they had ever seen! One little boy with the roundest face and deepest brown eyes held his little giraffee and began to cry. i picked him up and held him tightly and told him I would see him someday in Dharamsala, India-that is where the man in charge here said they would be going soon. The little children would go to the Tibet Children's Village school-where just a few weeks ago we were tutoring English. The older kids understood when we said we'd see them next year there. Still clutching the little Tibetan boy, I said cheerfully to everyone I would take him with me-which I truly longed to do and would have joyfully done if it was permitted. It was hard to set this little precious bundle from Tibet back on the cement-and I wondered and wondered how he made it over the three mountains and two rivers we had heard so much about. Now my heart was in my throat and i was in danger of a complete emotional breakdown, looking at the little girls too, and wanting to wash and shampoo their jet black hair and give them a clean set of clothes and new necklaces with a picture of the Dalai Lama. These are his people, I thought, looking at the new arrivals gathered around us-how does the Dalai Lama keep it together knowing what is happening to his people, how much suffering they go through? Our time was up and the man in charge said we had to go. They do not encourage visitors or attention as due to the sensitive political situation Nepal is in with China. He encouraged us to continue our support in Dharamsala, India, whre the gov't has so graciously allowed the Tibetans to build a community, but said here in Nepal it is much more delicate. He had the children all gather to give us a group "Tashi Delek" , the gate was opened and we were out, the gate shut behind and we heard the iron bar push across it and lock. We walked slowly away with the images of those red-cheeked Tibetan children emblazened in our memories, my heart felt broken in a million pieces, but knowing that I'd be back next year in Dharamsala to teach more English to these good people, and possible seeing them there, made me feel much, much better!

3 Spools of Thread

A few years ago, our Tibetan friend Kelsang Lodue suggested we try to sell yak hair blankets that he purchases to raise money for our education programs in Nepal and to help him out. Since Kelsang has been a devoted brother and body guard to Danny while in Nepal, we were very happy to try it and have found Americans love the soft and interesting textures of the yak hair wool. The blankets arrived in various packages of hand-sewn white cloth, with sanskrit words and wax seals pressed into the thread. We always wondered who exactly were making the shawls though, and were told by our Nepali friends they were made by Tibetans. Still, we were determined to find the source, as early explorers would try to find the source of the Nile or the Amazon. The mysterious yak hair blankets, which were supposably made by Tibetans and showed up in small stalls in Kathmandu often had equally mysterious labels attached, with Tibetan flags or drawings of the Potala Palace, the ex-home of the Dalai Lama in Lhasa when it was free of China rule.
And so this trip we were determined to find the source of yak hair, and we did it! We started in the markets of Thamel, the touristy corner of Kathmandu and asked shopkeepers where they were getting the blanket/shawls, but they in turn buy from other sellers and not the direct source. Knowing they are made by Tibetans we went to explore a Tibetan Camp outside Kathmandu in an ancient district known as Patan. Patan was once a separate kingdom of Nepal, filled with hand-carved wooden temples and stone edifices to a variety of Hindu gods and Buddhas. It is a place that boggles the senses with overload of temple upon shrine upon statue, all ancient and still being used as places of "puja" and religious ceremony today. A taxi took us to the Tibetan Camp after we had our fill of templedom-and dropped us off across from a shabby looking stack of apartments stacked like layers of a cement cake, and an old arch as an entrance way with a tired looking sign that said this was a Tibetan Refugee camp "generously offered by the Nepali government." Through the gate we tentatively wandered, feeling the oppressing heat of the monsoon weather-and to our surprise, saw up in the shade of a building, two rows of Ammas (a Tibetan honorary term for mothers, or older women) each clutching and spinning 2 foot high prayer wheels and chanting in unison! It was such a refreshing sight and we found a shady place to sit and enjoy their prayers and beautiful age-etched faces, colorful Tibetan dress and chupa aprons tied around their waists and necks holding strands of the turquoise and red coral beads that the Tibetans are so fond of. Oh, we were so happy to see them swinging those prayer wheels and chanting! We had been missing that sight since leaving Dharamsala, where we enjoyed Tibetans chanting daily at the Dalai Lama temple. Feelings satisfied at last and rested, we began to wander around the "camp"-really an acre or so of concrete buildings that house apartments for the Tibetans to live in (upstairs) while downstairs are workshops with the industrious Tibetans weaving and making rugs and shawls to support themselves. We wander inside a cavernous cement building filled with shelves of dyed yarn in massive spools and piles of raw wool in bags waiting to be spun. Then we found our golden egg in the next building. Outside in the shade where some looms with partially completed weavings on the strands, and inside the building were the finished products-the yak hair shawls!! We slowly made the connection-these were the exact shawls we had been selling as made by Tibetans from yak wool, and here it was-the source! They take the yak wool from Tibet, we were told and spin it, and then loom the shawls right there in the refugee camp. All the proceeds go back into their cooperative and help support them. We could not have been more happy to find this out! The Tibetan woman helping us shared our joy and gladly posed holding up a blanket by a loom, over and over again, as we told her how excited we were to find out the blanket/shawls were made by genuine Tibetans on looms with genuine yak wool and the money went back to a super good cause! There is no financial aide for the refugees and they are totally dependent on visitors and those who sell in the market to raise money for their cost of living.
We bought a dozen of the shawls to take back to the States to resell, and plan to do business now strictly with this group or any other Tibetan camp we discover that is doing the same. But that wasn't the last of our surprises here. We found another building, cool and humming with work, and here were row upon row of Tibetan women knotting by hand on tall looms Tibetan carpets. The intricate patterns and colors were dazzling, and Danny walked slowly around with his video camera making a film. Bree and I shot photo after photo of the women hard at work and the eye-dazzling patterns being created on the looms. Upstairs in the showroom, which had at it's center a large alter with an enormous picture of His Holiness the 14th Dali Lama, candles and offerings, and backdropped by a giant wool Tibetan carpet in the Tibet flag design and another of a beautiful Tibet countryside image, there we were treated to pile after pile of what was being created underneath us. I finally got my wish that I've harbored for years of owning a Tibetan carpet and picked out a red lotus design (my Tibetan name, given by a lama is Tenzin Sojung, referring to lotus), small enough to carry home on the airplane, feeling good about my investment going to support the good women below me. They were all very grateful for our visit and support, and for once we didn't haggle about the price, feeling that the Tibetans work hard, the price is extremely fair for their work and we can afford to do this in support of our love and dedication to the Tibetan people and their exile status. I know I say it a lot, but I can't help it! Free Tibet!! and please support Tibetan made products as a way to "vote" for a free Tibet with your dollar! Namaste and many Tashi Deleks!!!!! Tenzin Sojung

Shre Anapurna Academy in Fulkharta!!!!!!

We have had several meetings over the past few days with our good friend and project manager of HANDS school #2-the Shre Anapurna Academy in the village of Fulkharta. This school is also in the Dhading district of the Ganesh Himal and in "close" to Dharka, where we built school number one. What is close by in Nepali terms is waaaayyyy different from close by in Western terms. In this case, remembering for those of you who know about our first school and how it takes a bus from Kathmandu (4-5 hrs.) and then jeep 4 x 4 taxi out to first porters rest (about 4-5 hours) and then hiking up and up steep stone steps (1-2 hours) okay-that is the route---oh, we usually spend the night sleeping with porters who are the transporters for all goods in this roadless part of Nepal-so it takes us two days to reach Dharka. Then, from Dharka, we get up early and hike 8-9 hours over several valleys and hills to Fulkharta. This is a village of several hundred mostly Hindus of several castes. They are farmers, like everyone in the villages of Nepal, farming steeply terraced hillsides for corn, wheat and flatter plots for rice. Danny and Bree spent 8 days in the village on their last trip there to check school progress and were treated to the spectacle of a every third year local ritual and major "puja" ceremony-complete with the sacrificing of 40 virgin male goats and hopping shamens. The shamens hop for hours on one leg shaking musical instruments while the village band plays gaily and goats are brought up by each family to a ceremonial tree and slaughter rock-who knows how long this area has been used for "puja". (Danny has been trying at various internet cafes here in Kath. to upload his photos of this and the Fulkharta school, but we have had little luck doing so) The process of bringing forth a male virgin goat, the beheading, the dancing, the singing, repeat, on into the long day, was a step into the pages of National Geographic, Danny and Bree said. It was good to hear the meat is cooked in huge pots for the whole village to enjoy, but Danny and Bree said they were too sad after watching the sacrifices to enjoy eating the goats! The saddest part, that reallymade them cry as practicing Buddhists who seek to do no harm, was watching the tied up goats watch their friends lose a head and then the remaining goats would bleat helplessly looking around as if "Hey, someone rescue us!!"Our Tibetan friend Kelsang Lodue, being a Tibetan Buddhist, sat on a rock nearby. Danny said, and chanted the Buddhist prayer for compassion "Om Mani Padme Hum". Life in these villages is little changed over thousands of years-electricity is just arriving but sketchy, and schools are a big thing to have-a marvel of modern society. So here in the villages you have a coming together of the ancient and the new, and villagers having to figure out how to merge the two.
This merging comes up from time to time for us here in Nepal. An ancient Hindu Kingdom that was closed off to the modern world until some 40 years ago-westerners have only recently have had the opportunity to glimpse life in the hill tribe areas-far off the well-beaten Everest trekking trail. We find ourselves often treading lightly between our Western ideals and respect for Nepali culture. For me, a life-long animal rights advocate, watching goat slaughter is extremely hard, but it's not just the goats. It's the hard working donkeys with extreme, open ozzing saddle sores, the dogs suffering from mange, and the water buffalos hauled in hot, open back trucks, tied head to tail, fainting from the heat and often arriving dead at their final destination to be churned into "buff meat", after years of servitude in the fields. We try hard to keep a perspective on this world where everyone-animals and people-are struggling to survive.
We had to cross the ethical road just yesterday with Rajan, the manager of school number one. It had been reported to us that the villagers in Dharka were not using the new school because a few children had fainted while attending classes in the new rooms. Superstitious about wandering spirits causing trouble, villagers now want to do puja around the new school grounds. I asked Rajan if there was some way to do it without killing goats-or anything-like the Buddhist here do-a puja of incense, of prayers, a lama coming to chant, maybe hanging prayer flags. There are Tamil Buddists in the villages, so it is a possibility, but it will be up to the school committee. Such is business in this part of the world. We are lucky to be given a glimpse into this ancient kingdom-and we feel so fortunate that we have had amazing donors who also believe in bringing schools and education to the villagers, such as the Dworak famly in Minnesota. Without people like this, there would be no schools ging up in these very remote, ancient worlds. We hope at HANDS that education will help the next generation in making decisions that better their life as they cross paths more and more with modern life.

Tashi Delek!

TASHI DELEK FROM DHARAMSALA/MCLEOD GANJ-GELEK AND THE REFUGEES!!!OUR FAVORITE TIBETAN DANCE TROOP!!



Here is a photo of our friend Gelek and his Tibetan Dance Troop that we are trying to support by raising funds for their dream-to have enough money to put on their Tibetan Cultural Dance and Song shows, both on the road and in Dharamsala-maybe someday in USA!
I have written about Gelek a few blog posts previous to this one, but a quick summary is, we met Gelek when we worked as English tutors in McCleod Ganj and quickly became friends. Gelek has a warm, enthusiastic spirit and is a Tibetan refugee as are all the members of his "troop". Opportunities are sparse for Tibetans in India and Nepal. They live in political exile, having chosen to leave their country which is being swallowed by an oppressive China. Gelek is trying to create a livlihood for his friends and himself by forming this dance troop. They seek to promote their Tibetan heritage through cultural shows, to preserve their unique Tibetan culture and to help educate others about Tibet. Danny and I feel strongly about supporting them because we have seen a serious low morale among Tibetan youth who feel despondent over their situation as refugees and future prospects as exiles. Help us support these amazing young Tibetans as they try to create a positive future for themselves doing something uplifting and progressive - for not only themselves and other Tibetans, but for everyone who will also benefit from learning about the amazing Tibetan culture. You can send donations to me, Jan Sprague, at PO Box 738, Santa Margarita, Ca. 93453 USA
As friends know, the Tibetan cause is very near and dear to my heart and i will make sure your donations go directly to Gelek via money wire. Thank you so much for caring!!! Namaste!!!! Jan

Over the river and through the Himals!

If you haven't read the previous blog post about Gelyck and Tibetan Dance troop please do so-this is a cause very near and dear to mine, Danny and Bree's heart. we so much want them to succeed in their dream to "go on the road" with their Tibetan dance troop-please read the blog post for more info.
For now, something a little lighter in tone! We had quite a last day in Mcleod Ganj and the bus ride was the usual bizarre Indian experience, from smashing the bridge railing to having to ride with a guy's head practically in my lap, to finding a new use for squat toilets that have attached hoses for washing. Where to start?? Our last day was filled with our friends we made tutoring English as well as old friends such as Gendun Lodue from the Dalai Lama temple. Our favorite meeting place is Tibet Children's village cafe, where you can sit on the outside balcony above the street and look down at the assorment of humanity, from tourists, monks, beggars and peddlers. And drink lattes that have "Free Tibet" or "Tibet Will Be Free" or "peace" written in the foam-and best of all, all proceeds benefit the TCV education programs. So here is where we met first our dear friend Gelyck, who presented us with katas, Dalai lama necklaces and a letter and photo of him and his dance troop. We parted with hugs and Tashi Deleks and promises to return and do more work together next summer. A few hours later, we were back to meet Yeshe and Coky (I do not know how to spell her name, but it sounds something like that)-and more katas were given (these are white silk scarfs that Tibetans traditionally give in ceremonies or in honor of someone) Yeshe also had bought beautiful silk Tibetan wallets for us with Free Tibet stickers inside, Coky had gifts of scrolls with writings by the Dalia lama on them-mine will go up in my classroom for sure! Then we connected with our dear monk pal, Gendun Lodue, who met us up at the very busy taxi and bus stand, and then helped us lug all our bags down the road to where the "tourist" bus was parked-Gendun in his monk robes pulling my carry-on suitcase via its wheels, Danny and Bree with backpacks on, and Danny pulling the big suitcase, me with the extra bags slung on my shoulders. What a troop we were! It was a walk on the road of almost a mile, so picture that for a minute-all the while discussing Buddha's teachings of the Four Noble Truths with Gendun, who is practicing his English version of it. Just as we boarded the bus for good, Gendun pulls out of his robes boxes of "Peace" incense for each of us and more katas to put around our necks, with hands held in namaste and a Buddhist monk's blessing. It was hard to hold back the tears, we love him so much and parting is hard knowing it will be a whole year before we see our Gendun again! He turned and walked off down the road, back to his temple, slow and steady and Danny and I turned to each other and said, "There goes our dear monk-our Gayla!" (Dear Teacher).
On the bus, finally, we took off after no less then a half-hour of haggling with the driver because we had paid extra for a/c and discovered our bus did not have a/c-an old trick to get a few more rupees out of you-but we weren't having it. A few other passengers including Indians were also cheated so we were all on the verge of a bus mutiny when the driver called the owner and soon had someone arriving to give us the extra money for a/c refunds. The bus took off but took out a guard rail protecting a big drop-off to a river, the rail scrapped all along the side of the bus in a horrible noise, giving it a large gouge, and everyone on my side hung out their heads and went "OHHHH!" but the driver didn't seem even phased enough to check it out for body damage. Our heads hanging out we passengers were able to waggle our heads and say "That's India!" and laugh (and pray) that no serious damage was done. After about half-an hour on the road, we were pulled over by the police. I thought for sure they were nailing the driver for money to fix the guard rail he took out (leaving it bent and twisted-) it was about a half hour of haggling and so passengers began to file off and sit on the side of the road. One thing about India and Nepal is patience, no one argues or gets too upset when things like this happen, people have a nice way of just being resigned to fate and knowing things will happen when they do. We found out it wasn't the guard rail at all but back taxes owed by the tour bus company! How they found the bus and then pulled it over, and why they do it when it's full of people, I have not way to reason that out, esp. not being Indian, but there we were, a bus load of innocents having to wait while the driver called his boss (again) and had to wait for someone to show up with 12,000 rubees. which they finally did, about an hour later. Meanwhile, we got to know a Thai monk that was on the bus heading to Delhi and Danny and Bree peppered him with questions about Thailand. The rest of the trip was just long-very, very long. During the night, you can put your chairs back pretty far for sleeping, but for the person behind you it means very little space-the dude in front of me put his as far back as he could, giving me about 2 " of space between my lap and his head, which i had to look at all night I kept check it for lice because I had little else to do. That and read, since sleep is impossible for the jerky, twisty Himalaya roads. It takes about 16 hours to ride the bus from Dharamsala to Delhi and you arrive early the next morning, disheveled, dirty, exhauted from lack of sleep, confused, hot and bewildered but so thankful to get off the bus and have made it! We shared a taxi with our Thai monk friend and got to the airport's air conditioned luxury-wanting so badly to shower! I found out the luxury squat toilets the Indian gov't installed in their newly remodeled airport had nice hoses for washing, and that the squat toilet design made holding you foot over it and hosing off the trail dust the perfect place to do so! Clean feet make a world of difference when you're going around in flip-flops all the time, that and a fresh shirt. I had both, and so could get on the modern airplane feeling half way decent again. We hit Kathmandu and our pillows at Shechen Guest house with all the relief of trail-weary cowboys and crashed hard-sleeping for about 14 hours. Gee, but it's great to be back home!

Can You Help?

Gelyck is a young Tibetan refuge of about 28 years old who has a dream-he wants to start a Tibetan dance and singing group to promote Tibetan culture and to help young Tibetans currently living in exile, to retain pride and knowledge of their ancient and unique Tibetan culture. We helped him recently in Mcleod Ganj put on a show at the Tibet Children's Village for the general public and it was awesome! The young people (all in late teens or twenties) in the show wore beautiful Tibetan costumes and sang traditional and modern Tibetan songs. Their joy and spiritual efforts shone throughout the performance and I knew in my heart here was a project so worthy of our effort and attention. Gelyck has a dream-to take his young troop on the road to south India for special ceremonies for the Dalai Lama's birthday and then to a few other stops in India to perform. And of course someday to come to America with the Tibetan ensemble, which he calls "The Refugees". Danny and Bree immediately got excited about bringing him and the dancers to Naropa in Colorado. We pooled what money we could spare and gave it to him with much gratitude from him of course and many Tashi Deleks all around. It is our great wish and desire to help these worthy young people out as they pursue a positive and beneficial path to help non-Tibetans understand their culture and to help Tibetans, especially the youth who are often so despondent about their current political situation, maintain pride in the unique and wonderful people they are.
If you can in any way help us out with this effort of raising money for Gelyck and his dance troop, please send any money you feel you can spare to HANDS in Nepal, or to Jan Sprague-and note on the check that one word "Gelyck" so we know it goes directly to the dance troop. We are setting our sights at raising two thousand dollars for him and his Tibetans, for their travel expenses and costume needs,and I know with the generosity we've experienced with our other educational programs to help refugees and the poor that we can do it!
Please stay in touch and email me if you have any other questions about Gelyck or the Tibetan dancers-one of them, a young lady, was my English student. And of course, all, 100% of these amazing young people, walked over three mountains in the Himalayas and crossed two icy rivers, spent weeks doing this, eating tsampa and grass, to gain freedom so they can be simpye who they are-Tibetans. Free Tibet! Jan
Jan Sprague
PO Box 738
Santa Margarita, Ca. 93453
USA

I thank you all so much from my heart!!

Gu Chu Sum Org.

Although I haven't been able to figure out what exactly Gu Chu Sum means in Tibet (Tibetan friends seem to have a hard time explaining it in English to me-it is apparently numbers) It is the name of an organization here that we very much love to support. The Gu Chu Sum org is a non-profit started by Tibetan refugees to help and support Tibetan political prisoners who have escaped from Tibet and come here to live, often in terrible states physically because of torture, and always poor. We have been frequenting their sewing quarters here in McLeod Ganj, where a large airy room is set up with several sewing machines and large tables for cutting fabric and making some very cool things that they sell. The money then goes to support the ex-political prisoners in the community and their families. They say there are about 170 ex-political prisoners here, mostly from the Tibetan Freedom Movement. Some have been arrested and tortured in Tibetan prisons that were once sacred monasteries and some cannot walk or have permanent disabilites due to torture by Chinese guards. One very sweet and soft-talking monk we met, said he was taken from his cell for weeks, daily, his feet tied to a thick iron bar and electricity applied so much and hard that he cannot walk now. He was arrested at his monastery in Tibet with other monks for protesting because Chinese soldiers daily came to try to force them to sign documents denouncing the Dalai Lama as their leader. They are so devote, they are willing to endure torture and imprisonment rather than denounce their God/King. On top of that, he says they pray daily while in jail for their tormentors, that the guards rise above their foul deeds to be at peace someday and know compassion in their hearts instead of hate. As I listen to these stories, I have to ask, "What is wrong with the frickin Chinese Government??!!" Recently it hit the news world-wide (of course I didn't hear about it on the USA networks, only because I subscribe to and get updates from the Int'l Campaign to Save Tibet) a young monk in his mid-twenties immolated himself in front of his monastery in protest to the continuing oppression by the Chinese curtailing monk activities and limiting their movements until they are no more than prisoners in their own monasteries. The monks at this monastery rescued their comrade at the same time as Chinese soldiers kicked at him unmercifully, the monks were allowed to take his burned body, still alive into the temple, where he soon died. Their monastery is now under lock-down and the Dalai Lama has sent pleas out internationally for support and help, but as usual the int'l community ignores Tibet-there is no oil and China has the bomb. So hands-off China and so sorry defenseless Tibetans. It's not the first time we've turned our backs on them, I've discovered through reading a UN report on Tibet. At one time we supported and even trained Tibetan Freedom Fighters in the 70's when Tibetans tried tragically to make a stab at fighting back the Chinese for their country. The US pulled out when Nixon made his "mission" to China to open relations with the Red Giant, and it was deemed too touchy for US to continue to support Tibet anymore-so we pulled out, after arming them and encouraging them to fight, inflaming bad relations even more with the Chinese, and left the Tibetans to battle China on their own. The results are tragic and appalling-today thousands have been killed, thousands sit in jails in Tibet and it is reported that Tibetans in Tibet are mostly unemployed or delegated to the lowest paid and worse jobs, the Han Chinese being trained in getting the top jobs as part of their "perks" for settling in Tibet. Despite the Chinese Gov't. saying they have "liberated" the "primitive" Tibetans to modern life, Tibetans live on less than $100 a year in Tibet, making them among the world's poorest people and Tibet the poorest of China's regions-so much for China "liberating" Tibetans!
So we support the Gu Chu Sum Movement by purchasing what we can-we have bought silk purses and wallets that they have made, silk baby shoes, and book bags made from hand-woven fabrics in naturally dyed colors. We'll bring the items back to the USA with us, all containing literature about Gu Chu Sum and hope our friends will buy the items to help support them and HANDS-it's a "win-win" situation. We've made arrangements to have more sent if it works out-good for them, good for the Tibetans and there might be a little left over for our education programs within our own Org-HANDS. Pe yap po do!

Buddha's Birthday

Last night we emerged from the Kalash Hotel, where we had watched the most incredible show-a one man Tibetan free-form spirited dance and song, by a guy who calls himself "Lion Man"-his Tibetan hair frizzed out in the first "fro I've seen on a Tibetan, so we emerged from this mind-blowing experience to the crowded Jogiwara street and saw dozens upon dozens of dark-skinned Indians jumping down from open pick-ups, handing bundles of dirty rags and equally dirty children to each other, the kids, as soon as their bare feet hit the broken pavement, begin a chorus of begging, having beenwell-trained to never miss an opportunity to get a rupee. The men put bundles on their backs and the women on their heads and children follow in small herds trotting down Jogiwara lane-where are they going?
I found out this morning as Danny and I walked at 5:30 am to the Temple to join in with the crowds of prayer-wheel twirling Tibetans who also were headed to Temple to join even more in the ritual of "kora" or circumambulating clock-wise around the prayer wheels that are stationed all along the temple walls and then the large path around the whole compound, which is known as "big kora" or forest kora. We did about 10 laps of kora at the temple with monks, lay people young and old, and the temple dogs (regular dogs are not seen here in the temple area, only little fluffy ones who trot along with the people doing what I believe their breed is bred to do-they are Lhasas, or temple dogs). Then we went out to big kora, the long trail that winds around the Dalai Lama complex and grounds and through a forest and out again, with amazing views of HImalayas and the valley below, taking about a half hour to complete one round. Wow! Right away we saw hords of Indians, the ones who were disembarking last night, sitting along the trail, both sides-waking up, throwing off dirty, tattered rags, starting small cooking fires, children crying for milk, and old men blowing out each nostril. The mass of poor humanity was overwhelming at first, they sit right at the edge of the narrow trail, practically touching your feet, but we were not alone, far from it-hundreds of Tibetans were on the trail with us, chanting softly and handing out coins when they felt moved. We walked along, with side glances at beggars in all states, some missing limbs, some with very advanced leporsy, missing fingers and toes, skin ozzing with sores. Some had some affliction I don't know what it was-it was as if the skin was literally melting off their bones, bloodied and puss ridden-in places bare bones protuding from rotten flesh...it was horrible to look at and yet I had an immense curiosity about what they could be infected with? One beggar was in such a sorry state, he only had a bloodied limb protruding from a filthy white blanket that covered his whole body except for an eye and this mangled limb pointing at us. Where the path turns towards "home" the pilgrims lean into a hill and trudge slowly up, here there were the most beggars now chanting for money and rupees from us, pushing children into our paths and many, many hands reaching for our clothes and our hands in desparate pleading for anything. So this is what the Buddha experienced, I was thinking, as he left his protected world of his father's palace and wandered among the masses-and saw sickness, old age, and death. Happy Birthday Buddha, I also reflected-it is the day to observe his birth to the Tibetans, and the shops are closed, hundreds of monks are chanting all around us and lights are strung, butter lamps lit, in honor of the Buddha's teachings. And so knowing this is such an auspicious day, that every deed done this day can be multiplied by hundreds for good karma for the next life, prostrations are done to the Buddha, kora rounds are walked over and over, and donations are made. The Hindu Indians, knowing the generosity and practice of the Buddhists, especially on this day, have come by the truckload to take advantage of this observance. Yeshe, our Tibetan friend, and I hurry back to my room because I have an idea. I have brought bags of nice clothes from the USA and if we load up some shoulder bags with them, I can pass them out to the naked, poor children I have seen. Yeshe agrees it's a good idea and helps me. I pick out one of the soft cloth dolls my friend Peggy made and sent with me, for a special girl. We head back to big kora.
Yeshe instructs me to follow behind, he pulls out an article of cloting at a time to hand to me and I drop it quickly in the lap of a beggar on the trail. We walk fast, this way avoiding a full scale riot. Our plans works beautifully. We get all the clothes passed out and even find the beggars love the clothes, seemingly more than money even, and laugh and clap their approval. Oh my, when I think of all the donated clothes I had to leave behind because of lack of space in my bags.
Towards the end of the trail, I begin to scan the lines of beggars for a little girl that calls to me. I see her, sitting quietly with a red shirt that is too big for her rail thin body, her legs bare. Her bossier neighbors are loudly exclaiming towards the kora walkers, but she sits looking at a coin in her hand that has somehow not been swiped away from her. I motion for her to come to me, she seems so surprised, a little scared. Her mother, seeing a "forangi" wanting her daughter, pushes her with a big shove towards me and yells at her. I pull out the doll and there is almost a gasp from the crowd at the exotic beauty of it in this mass of tattered human beings. I push it into her arms and she clutches at it in disbelieve. Would any one in the States ever believe something so simple could bring such happiness to a child? And for a doll that cost less than a Starbucks latte? Yeshe takes my camera and makes a picture-I will try to post a photo of this to put it on my blog here later, when Danny is around to help.
Much more humble, and feeling like a god (how's that for feeling humble!!)just because not only was I born human but a healthy, fully limbed human,without open sores or lepoprsy, without twisted limbs and on top of my fully limbed and healhty body, I am educated and have a good job, a wonderful family. And the world's best dog. So this is my meditation today as I observe Buddha's birthday with all my Tibetan friends. "May all beings know happiness and the roots of happiness, may they be free from suffering and the roots of suffering."-the Buddha

Tibetan Ink

We are all crammed into a tiny internet cafe here on Temple road in McLeod Ganj-Danny and Yeshe are sitting side by side struggling through every combination of Tibetan words they can think of to create a good sounding name for Yeshe's tattoo and artwork business he is trying to start. They have set up a gmail account for him and are now working on a blogspot web site (free) and one Danny knows about. Yeshe, a young Tibetan man of slight build and knotted forearms from so many prostrations, who despite his very thin stature walked out of Tibet with two monks about 6 years ago and has carved a niche for himself among the other Tibetans here, utilizing every resource available to him for promoting and supporting himself. We have so much admiration for everything the Dalai Lama gov't has done, and India too, to help the refugees, who still climb mountain after mountain, recuperate in "reception" centers in Kathmandu and India and then finally make the final leg of their journey to Dharamsala and McLeod Ganj. Yeshe is fond of wearing his long black hair knotted on top of his head and has intense, steady deep brown eyes. He is Danny's English student and studies hard, he also is taking Tibetan music lessons and plays the "Dani" a long necked, wooden instrument that looks between a guitar and sitar-and Tibetan art lessons. We can all use lessons for this amazing people in how to combine resources and talents to help each other out and also to use whatever talents they have to support themselves. something we've remarked on many times--You never see a Tibetan standing on the street corner with their hand out, or trying to scam you in anyway. The Dala Lama offices have created an amazing pool of "orgs", non-profits that serve every niche of Tibetans, such as the Gu Chu Sum Movement of Tibet, an org here that hires ex-political prisoners who have escaped from Tibet as sewers and cooks for their Lung Ta Ex-Prisoner restaurant here (one of our favorites). We have been purchasing their beautifully sewn bags and coin purses,plus other items they create, and have been several times to photograph their factory, a serene airy room with large windows overlooking the INdia himalayas here with Tibetan music playing and singing going on while they work. NOt the sshop scene at all-as usual, Tibet seems laced with beauty in all they do.

Pay Ya Po Due!

Pay yaya pop due! De yap po due! All means Very good! Everything is doing very good herein upper Dharamsala, where Danny, Bree and I have been making small inroads towards trying to do what we can to help the Tibetan Refugee community here.
Today we visited a sewing factory (really a large room with about 6 sewing machines in use) run by Tibetan ex-political prisoners called Lung Tu. This cooperative is just what I had in mind in thinking of something similar to do in Nepal. The women who work here design and stitch the most beautiful bags and other products, mostly from silk. We went through their stock to pick out a few item to bring home-we'd love to help support them by selling their wares.
We also ran into a friend of Danny and Bree's from Naropa! She has been in India for a long time-many months-and Nepal too, doing volunteer work. Like others, she has found a niche where she thinks she can do some good-working with trafficked girls who have been rescued from brothels. She has hit on an idea of making Buddhist malas with them and selling them under the name "Butterfly Malas" in the U.S. Like us, she is hoping to use the money to help support the girls through educating them. We talked for a long time over dinner tonight about her ideas and ours-it's refreshing to be among people like this.
We have met a new Tibetan friend, I'm not sure how to spell his name, but it sounds like "Galick". He is in his twenties, or maybe early thirties, and very enthusiastic about helping the Tibetan youth in this community to retain something of their culture and heritage through helping them perform Tibetan song and dance. We helped him recently promote his Tibetan cultural dance and music show by helping to distribute flyers to tourists and then sold tickets at the gate (literally the gate to the Tibetan Children's Village) where the show was held. As Galick began to lose his voice after working hard all week to promote this worthy show, he asked me to help him introduce the groups and say a few words about how important it was to support Tibetan culture. I felt honored to help in anyway I could, but also a little off guard about what to say-in a hoarse whisper he asked me to just speak from my heart about the Tibetan Refugee community, the youth and how music and dance were both important parts of Tibetans retaining their sense of identity. Since last year, when Danny was "stuck" in India while waiting out political conflicts in Kathmandu, he observed the often frustrated Tibetan youth who, without country or citizenship, often felt despondent and frustrated about their future. He began to wish there was a way to match up a Tibetan "youth" with a USA college student to exchange cultural ways and knowledge and offer any skills and in general moral support for the Tibetans. Fast-forward to this year, and we were finding ourselves doing pretty much what we had been trying to do-support Tibetan youth and culture through helping them put on dance and song shows! So there I was, on stage with Galick, a microphone in hand and telling the audience of about 100 people that they in turn were doing a wonderful thing by buying a ticket and being there to see unique Tibetan dancing and song.
It was a wonderful night! The Tibetan kids did a wonderful job of creating and dancing traditional and some more modern numbers, their costumes colorful and decked out with fake snow leopard skin and shiny embroidery. There was singing and some solo numbers-and in between acts a lad from London with a drum and didgeridoo (sp?) entertained the crowd with his own type of cultural performance-blond dreadlocks knotted on top of his head and blue eyes bright with Indian spiritualism. It had been a long day of walking, walking walking...one walks everywhere in India towns, and we were exhausted by the evening's end. Walking back to our guest house, we side-stepped the old men rolling up their veggy stands, and carefully walked around trash that the cows hadn't eaten yet. Off in the distance, an amazing band of trumpets and drums played, and this went on long into the night. We found out today it was a Hindu wedding, it's hard to describe the music and singing that went on all night long, resonating off the mountain walls here in McLo.
I am off to bed-it's been another long day of walking, walking, walking and we had our Tibetan lessons today as well as the tutoring we do. For now, I'll say goodnight to all and many, many Namastes! And of course-Save Tibet!

Tutoring Tibetans

Greetings Blog Readers! It has been quite some time-at least a year-since I blogged, this being the main site for getting information from my perspective on our HANDS work in Nepal and with the Tibetan Refugee community-and--here I am again on the other side of the planet!Curently, Danny,Bree and I are residing at our favorite guest house in India, Pink House, which is as the name suggests, a bright Pepto Bismal pink-inside and out. The house is run by two Muslim brothers from Kashmir who are very nice, friendly and helpful-and the house provides a clean, safe haven from the chaos of Indian streets. You do have to have strong legs to negogiate the hundreds of stone steps leading down the hill to the house and then back up each day (sometimes several times a day) to the Jogiwara road that divides McCloud Ganj, where we are, into two halves. Basically, there are two roads in the whole of McLo, as locals call it, one runs up from the lower part of this hill station known as Dharamsala and the other is Temple Road and goes directly to the Dalai Lama temple and stops there.
This is the new home of Tibet. More and more the local Tibetans who call this area home refer to McLo as the New Lhasa. Thousands of Tibetans have walked over the Himalayas to this area seeking freedom from the horrible oppression and discrimination of the Chinese government and to be near their beloved Dalai Lama. It is an amazing exp. to live among people who are as devote as this, who are so true to their Tibetaness. It is too much to go into why China invaded Tibet and why the Tibetans cannot lives there as Tibetans anymore-there are enough web sites and writings about this. I would like to share what we do each year when we come here to Mclo-and how it is possible for anyone to do something to help the good Tibetan people despite the seemingly impossible task of releasing Tibet from China's dragon claws.
We are English teachers when we arrive here-and believe me, we are in big demand! Tibetan refugees need to learn to acculturate to Indian society and develop job skills here-and guess what the national language of India is? English! So if there is one immediate skill Tibetans can learn to adjust here, it is English. Many orgs exist here to fill the need-two we have worked with are Lha and Tibet Hope Project. But you don't even need to join an org. We find Tibetans incredbile friendly and who approach us with great warmth and sincerity to help them with their English. I met my good monk friend this way four years ago when I was reading a poster glued to the wall outside the Dalai Lama temple. He asked me if I spoke English and then if I could help him with his English grammar homework. Apparently, all the monks at the monastery here have to take English classes. The Dalai Lama knows how important this English is for all Tibetans, including his monks!
This year we had the added bonus of some kind people from my Buddhist Sangha making contributions to me before I left of about $120 total to buy books for our tutoring. So far, this money has bought 10 Tibetan-English disctionaries, 10 workbooks, and a variety of Early and Advanced English readers. Its been a godsend (Buddhasend??) to be able to give the books to the students we work with. To some, they are incredulous at the gift, not having any money or the ability to buy books of their own. I also bring an entire suitcase of books of various levels with me to distribute to those I know will use them. Today I gave a simple little kid's book on bicycles to an Indian boy of about 14 yrs. who works at our guest house. He can't read, he's never been to school and it is the first book he has ever had-maybe even seen? It was like I had given him an Xbox or some Wii or whatever the newest electronic gadget is-his eyes got wide, he broke into a radiant smile, he carefully turned the pages and then somberly handed the book back to me, not believing I could really be giving him this to keep. Several times I had to press the book back into his chest and put his hands on it and say "This is your book." Finally he believed me! We go over the words now a page at a time, while he serves me milk coffee, because that is his job and he still has to work for a living.
My other three students are Tibetans-two monks and a young lady who is trying to pass her English exams. She is painfully shy, blushes at her mispronunciations, but has a serious dedication and effort that got her over the mountains from Tibet to India in the first place. we sit at the Tibet Children's Village Cafe (all proceeds benefit the eduation programs for Tibetan children-and if you order a latte, it comes with "Free Tibet" written in the foam-I am not making this up!!) I love helping her and the others.
As I sit here typing this, I am at a funky internet cafe with a view of the Indian Himalayas and two monkeys are playing on a rooftop across the street. They camper across electrical wires and bounce on tree limbs. A monk in his red robes sits on my right and a Tibetan woman in her chupa (traditional dress) is on my left. Resilence, strength, perserverance, never giving up-that's what I think as I am surrounded by Tibetan spirit. That and the thought that I left my windows open in my room, screenless, monkeys can get in and still your granola bars and antibiotics!
-Free Tibet!