Arriving at our first stop, the local school, we apparently took the
staff by surprise: we were too early for them, but they didn't tell us that, so
instead we were taken on an impromptu ‘tour of the school’ which coincidentally
ended with my colleague and I walking up the same drive way, only this time the
welcoming committee was ready with the red powder for our forehead, the garlands,
flowers and traditional scarf – and a corridor of children who had been called
in from holidays to welcome these visitors from Australia. (They weren't too
unhappy!)
Before the big event though we had to have lunch, at 10:30am, boiled rice,
lentil water, potato/bitter gourd curry, and bamboo shoot pickles. Our hosts
tell me that in Nepal, or maybe just this part,
people don’t have breakfast, just a cup of tea – sweet, buffalo milk tea
– which we had enjoyed before the windy, bumpy white knuckle ride up the
mountain and then lunch mid-morning, "tiffin" (snacks) in the early afternoon and
dinner later at night.
We then settled in for the two hour presentation which included 6 traditional
dances from school girls, 2 poems written by girls for the occasion, 10
speeches, 6 from local politicians and community leaders, 2 from the school
leaders, 1 from the Chief Guest and 1 (impressively powerful and articulate) from
the head girl. (I’m not sure what the boys in the school do!)
4 hours after arriving in the school we moved on – this time to a
nearby village where the women have formed a farmers group. Here the women have
turned their village around through agriculture and animal husbandry. Most of
the houses in the village have 2 ‘tunnels’ (open sided greenhouses) growing
tomato, beans, corn, chili and bitter gourd all overflowing with new growth.
They have been taught to farm organically and the results (and the books prove
it) are impressive. All the members have increased their family’s income from
between 10 – 20 times. The impact: children have school books of their own,
they are all dressed in uniform they have shoes and they have fresh vegetables to
eat. Some of the older kids have moved on to university. The women are selling
produce in market, they have a ‘pretty sari’ uniform for their group, they are
sharing the produce with friends, and they have been invited to other
communities to share how to grow their own food.
As we wait for the adults to organise their welcome, we have a game of
soccer with an old, semi flat ball on the road. The boys are happy to do this! Especially
when they manage to score against the white guy and his Ugandan mate.
By the time we are ready to head back down the Mountain after 7 hours, the cloud has burnt off and for the first time since I have been here the snow-capped Mt. Machhapuchhre (Fish Tail) has just pushed its way through the cloud in the distance. The road at least is all visible as we bounce back down to the city below.
