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.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
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!
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!
Thursday, June 23, 2011
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!
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!
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
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
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
Monday, June 20, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
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
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