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!
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