This week was Prabodhini Ekadashi, when Lord Devi is supposed to awaken from a four month sleep. So has the training centre, where we are overwhelmed by training after months of inactivity. Three groups of secondary teachers started on November 2, including an English group that I seem to have overall responsibility for. The notebooks for the trainees are from a new supplier. The usual tasteful Nepali scenes of mountains and temples have been replaced by a series called Classmate. The classmates depicted on the covers are scantily clad lovelies with long blonde hair and names like Avril and Bonny. Rather disturbing, but the teachers seem oblivious.
This week, I have been joined by Bindeshwor and Parmila in the English group. Bindeshwor attended some ‘master trainers’ workshops that I led – and is impressive; probably the best of the part time trainers we have. He arrives at midday, having already taught 5 English lessons in his school, followed by 3 Maths lessons in a private college. His degree is in Science. . Parmila treats the group like a class of 70 grade 9s. Beside her I feel decidedly shabby. She drips with gold jewellery, has a range of beautiful chiffon saris covered in sequins and sparkly high heeled mules. My limited collection of kurtas has suffered from 18 months of washing in Indian detergent and my ‘five-strap’ sandals now have only three. I lead parts of the training every day and am delighted to see a change in the teachers – none of them have worked with a native speaker before; some cannot cope much above grade 7 level, while some of the young ones are studying for masters degrees and are very able. Many of them arrive early in the morning so we can have ‘conversation’ before class starts; it’s wonderful to see their confidence grow. They are now starting to play ‘learning English’ games with relish and lots of laughter and are beginning to realise that their role is helping students learn, rather than delivering the textbook. Let’s hope it transfers to their classrooms.
Many of the 130 primary teachers who arrived on Sunday are elderly men who had hoped to escape training (this is the last year), but they have settled down and seem to be enjoying themselves. There are a few bright eyed young women too. Many are drifting from the 6am classes to 11am, so the later shift is now uncomfortably full. My days are busy, mostly with the English group, but with some input into Science (practical activities that do not require any resources) and primary training.
Meanwhile David is having a wonderful time with Manu the bear, who is now an honorary member of the class, with his own chair and name badge. In both schools, the ECD teacher has been really responsive and loves using the new materials he has made. A delegation from the DEO office has been to watch and he is now inundated with requests. At last!
Chhath was the last of the big festivals and we went to the river with Josef, Hanna and the children. A colourful and enjoyable evening. At home we are beset by a plague of grasshoppers, ranging in size from barely visible to chunky ones suitable for coating in chocolate. They are worst when the power goes off, when they flock to our emergency fluorescent lamp. At night they entertain themselves by jumping all over us and especially enjoy wandering through our hair. Perhaps they think its grass. David hoovers furiously each morning to get rid of the dead bodies. Especially important today as Josef and Hanna are coming for supper.
Saturday, 15 November 2008
Saturday, 1 November 2008
Work and play
A warm welcome back at work, especially as I brought information about VSO Link Tour for selected education partners to spend a week in Laos, looking at developments in teacher training and primary education. Durga and I prepared an application for him. Lots of enthusiasm for a ‘Training of Trainers’ day, to prepare for the next batch of training that will start on November 2. Very good training day on Friday – like the first day of term, when everyone comes back together and exchanges news. Good session, mostly led by Durga and Umapati. On Monday we repeated the exercise for the primary trainers; 130 primary teachers will arrive on November 9. After 4 months with no real work, we are overstretched and will run 3 groups from 6 – 11am and 4 groups from 11-4, with no days off. Many trainers will work both shifts.
David had a wonderful week focusing on ECD, with lots of story telling and play. He has produced some lovely materials that Shova is now using effectively and producing materials of her own. The children are responding so well and making great progress. On his days off this week he has used the ETC’s projector to help him produce huge animal pictures on chart paper from VSO using images from the internet.
Holiday mood has overwhelmed us again with preparations for Tihar. The market on Sunday was full of brightly coloured decorations, people stocking up on dried fruit and nuts – dates, sultanas, coconut, cashews, pistachios, walnuts, almonds, and buying thousands of small clay pots to make oil lamps. Many of the stall holders were painting their stalls and plastic covers. I bought green splattered carrots and yellow spotted aubergines. . A sudden change in the weather on Monday when moist clouds arrived from the Bay of Bengal and the temperature plummeted to 26oC, and we got out our winter clothes! Tihar dawned chilly and grey, but by the time we went to the market to see the banana trees placed outside the shops and the decorations on the sides of the street, the sun was out. Dogs and cows were adorned with garlands and brightly coloured tikka powder – mostly fuschia pink and turquoise. Abi has given Rosie (the dog – now a firm friend – no more yipping) a hair cut. Rani is having garden makeover.
A rare social event in the afternoon – last week we met Josef, Hanna and their 3 boys, aged 7,5 and 3, at the pool. He is an Austrian architect and is here for 4 years as project manager of the new eye hospital, which will be the second largest in the world! We were invited for tea – a delightful family in a beautiful house to the south of the city. We have decided to have a social life at last. In the evening we went back to the market to see the lights – of course there was a power cut; the gaudy electric bulbs went off so it was lit by thousands of beautiful oil lamps. Great cheers when power restored and the loudspeakers could start blaring out music again. Arrived home to find the family about to start their fireworks. A lavish display was put on with life threating enthusiasm by Abi, Ram (the driver and odd job man),and Karna, who had the time of his life. The box of 100 Chinese bombs was particularly terrifying. Pyel and Rani provided delicious snacks. Loud bangs and a flashing sky persisted until after midnight. Like living in a war zone.
The landlord has sold the house with us in it and is moving out on Saturday. Apparently the new owners will arrive ‘soon’ and move into our flat when we leave in March. This leaves Karna homeless. We have been to look at a number of rat-infested rooms with him, and have found a clean room with small kitchen and access to bathroom with a nice family a few houses away. Good to have him nearby so he can continue to learn to use the computer and practice his English.
Swimming with our Austrian friends on Wednesday; we were joined by Iris, a German eye surgeon, who arrived about the same time as us. All have worked in Africa before (Zimbabwe, Cameroon, Kenya), and are finding Biratnagar much more challenging. Candlelit evening with Durga and his daughters, with a profusion of sticky sweets before the dal bhat, and invitation to stay the night. We braved the firecrackers in the streets on our bicycles – at least there was more light than usual.
David had a wonderful week focusing on ECD, with lots of story telling and play. He has produced some lovely materials that Shova is now using effectively and producing materials of her own. The children are responding so well and making great progress. On his days off this week he has used the ETC’s projector to help him produce huge animal pictures on chart paper from VSO using images from the internet.
Holiday mood has overwhelmed us again with preparations for Tihar. The market on Sunday was full of brightly coloured decorations, people stocking up on dried fruit and nuts – dates, sultanas, coconut, cashews, pistachios, walnuts, almonds, and buying thousands of small clay pots to make oil lamps. Many of the stall holders were painting their stalls and plastic covers. I bought green splattered carrots and yellow spotted aubergines. . A sudden change in the weather on Monday when moist clouds arrived from the Bay of Bengal and the temperature plummeted to 26oC, and we got out our winter clothes! Tihar dawned chilly and grey, but by the time we went to the market to see the banana trees placed outside the shops and the decorations on the sides of the street, the sun was out. Dogs and cows were adorned with garlands and brightly coloured tikka powder – mostly fuschia pink and turquoise. Abi has given Rosie (the dog – now a firm friend – no more yipping) a hair cut. Rani is having garden makeover.
A rare social event in the afternoon – last week we met Josef, Hanna and their 3 boys, aged 7,5 and 3, at the pool. He is an Austrian architect and is here for 4 years as project manager of the new eye hospital, which will be the second largest in the world! We were invited for tea – a delightful family in a beautiful house to the south of the city. We have decided to have a social life at last. In the evening we went back to the market to see the lights – of course there was a power cut; the gaudy electric bulbs went off so it was lit by thousands of beautiful oil lamps. Great cheers when power restored and the loudspeakers could start blaring out music again. Arrived home to find the family about to start their fireworks. A lavish display was put on with life threating enthusiasm by Abi, Ram (the driver and odd job man),and Karna, who had the time of his life. The box of 100 Chinese bombs was particularly terrifying. Pyel and Rani provided delicious snacks. Loud bangs and a flashing sky persisted until after midnight. Like living in a war zone.
The landlord has sold the house with us in it and is moving out on Saturday. Apparently the new owners will arrive ‘soon’ and move into our flat when we leave in March. This leaves Karna homeless. We have been to look at a number of rat-infested rooms with him, and have found a clean room with small kitchen and access to bathroom with a nice family a few houses away. Good to have him nearby so he can continue to learn to use the computer and practice his English.
Swimming with our Austrian friends on Wednesday; we were joined by Iris, a German eye surgeon, who arrived about the same time as us. All have worked in Africa before (Zimbabwe, Cameroon, Kenya), and are finding Biratnagar much more challenging. Candlelit evening with Durga and his daughters, with a profusion of sticky sweets before the dal bhat, and invitation to stay the night. We braved the firecrackers in the streets on our bicycles – at least there was more light than usual.
Saturday, 18 October 2008
Another holiday
September 28. Back to noisy, smelly and incredibly wet Kathmandu. Dashain shopping frenzy brought traffic to a standstill on Monday so we walked the 70 minutes from VSO to the guest house in pouring rain. There is a new subeditor on The Himalayan Times, with pre-holiday front page headlines of ‘cops fleece sheep traders’ ‘water talks flow’ ‘ spirited drive against excess alcohol’. Three days of workshops with continual talk and VSO socialising left us exhausted, so we enjoyed a weekend relaxing at the Manaslu pool and a day with Colin and Ellen, friends from VSO Ethiopia, now working in Kathmandu for 6 months.
After successfully renewing our Indian visas, with great relief at never having to spend a tedious day queuing and being interrogated again, we started our holiday at 7am on October 7, when Himal arrived with a car to take us to the Seti River. We reached Damauli at 11am. The raft arrived at 1pm and the ‘chief rafter’ with life jackets arrived soon after 4pm. We were happy to get onto the river, in an overladen raft with a young Swedish couple and 2 Nepalis who seemed to know what they were doing. The river was very high after so much rain, so we sped along without much paddling, bouncing through rapids and white water until we pulled onto a sandbank as the sun was setting. We managed to get tents up before it was completely dark, surrounded by curious children, who had come down to the river to play and swim. A vast quantity of dal bhat was cooked over an open fire on the beach and we crawled into our tents at 8pm and fell asleep to the sound of the river. Woken early by the return of the children, walked along the beach covered in perfectly round pebbles glistening with mica and water. The morning’s rafting was beautiful, through deep wooded valleys with brilliant malachite kingfishers darting into the waves. Some BIG rapids, where we were all in danger of falling out and it was impossible to obey Sala’s shouts of “faster, faster” in our attempts to hang on. Himal met us at the end and we drove to Pokhara and the lovely Sacred Valley guest house. A terrifying storm in the mountains knocked out the electricity and we had a wet and chilly dinner. Fortunately it was calm and clear, if dark, when we arrived at the airport at 5.30am the next morning. The airport gates were firmly padlocked, and we joined some elderly Tibetans hopefully twiddling their prayer beads waiting outside. Eventually the gates were opened and by 6.20 we were airborne in a tiny plane flying below the Annapurnas with spectacular views of wooded hills and valleys and snowy peaks above. Breakfast in the cold early morning air of Jomson, looking at the mountains. A gentle 2 hour walk along the Kali Ghandaki river bed brought us to the ancient settlement of Kagbeni. Inevitably, we met some VSOs on the way, descending from Muktinath, the destination of many Indian and Nepali pilgrims. The landscape is stark and arid, with huge sandy mountains towering above the river, and green cultivated land below. Having left our bags at the friendly Paradise guest house, we walked up stony paths through small fields of barley and maize, grazing horses and mules, apple orchards dripping with fruit from golden to green and crimson. We ate our first hearty trekker’s lunch at the guest house rather than the Germ In Bakery, then Himal helped us gain access to the monastery where 9 Buddhist monks are living. The ancient Buddhas, masks, wall paintings and other decorations were beautiful, dimly lit by butter lamps. David was allowed upstairs to a special ceremony, where traditional musical instruments and chanting from Tibetan scriptures was in process. A huge rough mud wall led into the ancient walled city, at first apparently deserted, but gradually people emerged from behind old wooden doors and windows, animals stamped and snorted, munching their fodder behind closed doors; other animals were out grazing before being brought in for the night. Huge yaks, tiny dzopas, mules and ponies, furry dogs stretched out in the sun, children playing with home made toys. Splendid architecture, with characteristic Mustang red ochre, black and cream paint, prayer walls, wheels and flags at every turn.
The next day we walked down the valley to Marpha, the ‘apple capital’ of Nepal. Solid white painted stone houses, roofs piled with wood ready for the winter. A vicious wind starts at about 10am every morning, whipping up the dust, but the sky was brilliant blue with huge peaks of the Nilgiris all around. A comfortable lodge featuring apple cake, apple pie, apple crumble, apple fritters, apple pancakes, apple jam, apple momos, apple cider, apple brandy – and even apples. Delicious. The next day we continued mostly downhill through pretty villages to a ‘luxury’ lodge at Kalopani, with splendid views of Dhaulgiri and the Annapurna range. Our final very long and blistering walk took us to the hot springs of Tatopani. There is allegedly now a ‘road’ from Pokhara to Jomson, which will bring access to markets for the farmers, but have a negative effect on tourist lodges. In reality, there is a dirt track, frequently washed down the mountainside by monsoon landslides. We had been assured we could pick up transport back to Beni, and the next morning we found a dilapidated bus and climbed aboard for a nerve-wracking 3 hour journey. The ‘road’ runs along the edge of the Kali Ghandaki, the deepest gorge in the world. I had the misfortune to be sitting ‘gorge side’ and for most of the way there was no firm land visible from my side of the bus, just sheer jungled slopes down to the swirling waters far below. The Nepalis soon started shouting “plastic, plastic” – a request for bags to be sick into. At one point we all left the bus as the track was too narrow for all 4 wheels at once, but it hopped swiftly across on three wheels, luggage swaying precariously on the roof. Eventually we arrived back safely in Beni, where we got a taxi that hurtled us round the hairpins back to the calm serenity of the Sacred Valley in Pokhara, where we found Colin and Ellen having tea and cakes. A relaxing day, before the long bus journey back to the traffic of Kathmandu, where we caught up with work, said goodbye to Purna the Education Manager who moves to London in December and a had a final delicious supper with friends before returning home.
October 17. Biratnagar. Eastern Terai at standstill with banda that has already lasted 3 days. Managed to get ourselves and all our stuff into 2 rickshaws for an extortionate price. Karna was working on our terrace, as Chhatra and Tara were upstairs and many people downstairs. No water. No electricity. Flat bike tyres. Our bicycle repair man couldn’t pump them up because he had toothache – “come back in 2 days”, so we borrowed the pump and did them ourselves. First oranges of the season in the market, but no cheese.
After successfully renewing our Indian visas, with great relief at never having to spend a tedious day queuing and being interrogated again, we started our holiday at 7am on October 7, when Himal arrived with a car to take us to the Seti River. We reached Damauli at 11am. The raft arrived at 1pm and the ‘chief rafter’ with life jackets arrived soon after 4pm. We were happy to get onto the river, in an overladen raft with a young Swedish couple and 2 Nepalis who seemed to know what they were doing. The river was very high after so much rain, so we sped along without much paddling, bouncing through rapids and white water until we pulled onto a sandbank as the sun was setting. We managed to get tents up before it was completely dark, surrounded by curious children, who had come down to the river to play and swim. A vast quantity of dal bhat was cooked over an open fire on the beach and we crawled into our tents at 8pm and fell asleep to the sound of the river. Woken early by the return of the children, walked along the beach covered in perfectly round pebbles glistening with mica and water. The morning’s rafting was beautiful, through deep wooded valleys with brilliant malachite kingfishers darting into the waves. Some BIG rapids, where we were all in danger of falling out and it was impossible to obey Sala’s shouts of “faster, faster” in our attempts to hang on. Himal met us at the end and we drove to Pokhara and the lovely Sacred Valley guest house. A terrifying storm in the mountains knocked out the electricity and we had a wet and chilly dinner. Fortunately it was calm and clear, if dark, when we arrived at the airport at 5.30am the next morning. The airport gates were firmly padlocked, and we joined some elderly Tibetans hopefully twiddling their prayer beads waiting outside. Eventually the gates were opened and by 6.20 we were airborne in a tiny plane flying below the Annapurnas with spectacular views of wooded hills and valleys and snowy peaks above. Breakfast in the cold early morning air of Jomson, looking at the mountains. A gentle 2 hour walk along the Kali Ghandaki river bed brought us to the ancient settlement of Kagbeni. Inevitably, we met some VSOs on the way, descending from Muktinath, the destination of many Indian and Nepali pilgrims. The landscape is stark and arid, with huge sandy mountains towering above the river, and green cultivated land below. Having left our bags at the friendly Paradise guest house, we walked up stony paths through small fields of barley and maize, grazing horses and mules, apple orchards dripping with fruit from golden to green and crimson. We ate our first hearty trekker’s lunch at the guest house rather than the Germ In Bakery, then Himal helped us gain access to the monastery where 9 Buddhist monks are living. The ancient Buddhas, masks, wall paintings and other decorations were beautiful, dimly lit by butter lamps. David was allowed upstairs to a special ceremony, where traditional musical instruments and chanting from Tibetan scriptures was in process. A huge rough mud wall led into the ancient walled city, at first apparently deserted, but gradually people emerged from behind old wooden doors and windows, animals stamped and snorted, munching their fodder behind closed doors; other animals were out grazing before being brought in for the night. Huge yaks, tiny dzopas, mules and ponies, furry dogs stretched out in the sun, children playing with home made toys. Splendid architecture, with characteristic Mustang red ochre, black and cream paint, prayer walls, wheels and flags at every turn.
The next day we walked down the valley to Marpha, the ‘apple capital’ of Nepal. Solid white painted stone houses, roofs piled with wood ready for the winter. A vicious wind starts at about 10am every morning, whipping up the dust, but the sky was brilliant blue with huge peaks of the Nilgiris all around. A comfortable lodge featuring apple cake, apple pie, apple crumble, apple fritters, apple pancakes, apple jam, apple momos, apple cider, apple brandy – and even apples. Delicious. The next day we continued mostly downhill through pretty villages to a ‘luxury’ lodge at Kalopani, with splendid views of Dhaulgiri and the Annapurna range. Our final very long and blistering walk took us to the hot springs of Tatopani. There is allegedly now a ‘road’ from Pokhara to Jomson, which will bring access to markets for the farmers, but have a negative effect on tourist lodges. In reality, there is a dirt track, frequently washed down the mountainside by monsoon landslides. We had been assured we could pick up transport back to Beni, and the next morning we found a dilapidated bus and climbed aboard for a nerve-wracking 3 hour journey. The ‘road’ runs along the edge of the Kali Ghandaki, the deepest gorge in the world. I had the misfortune to be sitting ‘gorge side’ and for most of the way there was no firm land visible from my side of the bus, just sheer jungled slopes down to the swirling waters far below. The Nepalis soon started shouting “plastic, plastic” – a request for bags to be sick into. At one point we all left the bus as the track was too narrow for all 4 wheels at once, but it hopped swiftly across on three wheels, luggage swaying precariously on the roof. Eventually we arrived back safely in Beni, where we got a taxi that hurtled us round the hairpins back to the calm serenity of the Sacred Valley in Pokhara, where we found Colin and Ellen having tea and cakes. A relaxing day, before the long bus journey back to the traffic of Kathmandu, where we caught up with work, said goodbye to Purna the Education Manager who moves to London in December and a had a final delicious supper with friends before returning home.
October 17. Biratnagar. Eastern Terai at standstill with banda that has already lasted 3 days. Managed to get ourselves and all our stuff into 2 rickshaws for an extortionate price. Karna was working on our terrace, as Chhatra and Tara were upstairs and many people downstairs. No water. No electricity. Flat bike tyres. Our bicycle repair man couldn’t pump them up because he had toothache – “come back in 2 days”, so we borrowed the pump and did them ourselves. First oranges of the season in the market, but no cheese.
Saturday, 27 September 2008
Ants eat pasta
The post monsoon cupboard clean out, disposing of all the rancid spices, revealed a bag of what had once been pasta that had become transformed into a thriving ant colony. Tiny ants now superseded by snails multiplying under the kitchen sink and a gecko the size of a Komodo dragon, but even this is no match for the huge spiders that lurk in the bedroom at night. Compensated by the arrival of swarms of fireflies, lighting the bedroom with twinkling stars. Woke up and imagined I was in heaven. A surprise storm on Tuesday morning cooled the air; I feared for David who had left home laden with a full rucksack in his bicycle basket, nine almost-life-size cut out animals on his carrier, 2 large framed charts under his left arm and his brow mopping towel in his right hand. He arrived at school just as the winds and lashing rain began.
On Tuesday evening we were invited to the Eastern Star hotel to have dinner with the VSO delegation from Kathmandu, including a Tory MP – the sole Conservative representative of VSO’s VolPol event to mark its 50th anniversary, and presumably to ensure government funding for a few more years. He fitted the stereotype. 11 MPs are currently visiting VSO projects in different countries, and supposedly having a ‘volunteer’ experience; his has been more of an embassy experience. On Wednesday we helped facilitate a review workshop for NGOs and their communities at the misnamed Sagarmarta (Nepali name for Everest – it is of course completely flat) Party (no sign of one) Palace (certainly not). Very interesting to work with a group other than education; the MP slept through most of it, possibly due to his wine consumption the previous evening and we bundled him into a rickshaw to take him back to the airport in the afternoon. Transport was difficult as it was the day for worshipping machinery. Buses, trucks, lorries, tractors, cars and rickshaws were taken to the temple to be blessed, have huge tikkas applied, and be festooned with garlands.
Most of the local factories have been forced to close because of the power shortages – more than 12 hours without electricity some days, and no schedule so it is impossible to plan. We try to keep our laptops and phones charged and the water tank topped up when we are home, but some days its impossible. When the power is on, it is usually only enough to produce a brown flicker in the light bulbs. We are loving our new supply of DVDs – have just finished Middlemarch and Cranford, often getting up in the middle of the night to finish an episode when the power comes on. We feel immersed in 19th century England – and indeed the conditions of some of our neighbours are not unlike the poor depicted there. Karna, now confident in negotiating his way round the computer, discovered Cranford yesterday, and is now very confused about what England is like.
Suddenly a 4 day workshop organised by a local NGO roused my colleagues from their torpor; after half an hour of planning they disappeared for the rest of the day. I met them at the NGO Federation at 8am on Friday tucking into a hearty breakfast. The workshop is targeting teachers from very poor Dalit communities near the Indian border, and follow up support will be provided. The lack of proper planning was evident, so we had a shamefaced debriefing at the end of the day. By Sunday things were going well, with some of the best training I have ever observed. On Monday, a bright young man from Save the Children, who are funding the initiative arrived for the final day – another useful local contact. We spent most of Tuesday ‘debriefing’ and planning for how we will change our approach for the primary training that starts at the ETC after Tihar.
Durga is being remarkably pro-active and we have been off into the countryside on the back of his motorbike visiting some of the headteachers who were trained before the monsoon. The travelling is wonderful, if precarious. On the highway he is no respecter of speed humps, and once off the road we bump along increasingly narrow tracks through bright green paddy fields and lush banana plantations, negotiating cows, buffalo, chickens, ducks, women carrying huge bundles of fodder and tiny children playing in the dirt. Blue mountains in the distance. Looks idyllic, but the reality of life in the villages is grim. Flimsy houses of bamboo and mud, dilapidated school buildings with dirt floors and no resources, but some bright eyed teachers trying their best. Children, as ever, are curious and delightful.
I read in the Guardian Weekly today that the average British family spend 34 minutes a day shouting at each other. Include the dog and multiply that by 10 and you have an approximation for a Nepali family. Especially when they live downstairs. We have discovered that they are very rich, own three cars, and want to buy the whole house from our landlord. They have just installed a generator, so now the 2 televisions are on from dawn til late. We are in delicate negotiations about who should pay the electricity bill for the month that we were in England.
On Sunday September 28 we go to Kathmandu for a VSO workshop followed by our Dashain holiday, rafting down the Seti river to Pokhara before we take to the hills. There is a general air of festivity already, with more street stalls selling trinkets, children with balloons and firecrackers, and the setting up of huge bamboo swings. The barley seeds will be planted on Tuesday. Our colleagues are starting their annual family gatherings with singing, dancing and much feasting on everything except fatted calves.
On Tuesday evening we were invited to the Eastern Star hotel to have dinner with the VSO delegation from Kathmandu, including a Tory MP – the sole Conservative representative of VSO’s VolPol event to mark its 50th anniversary, and presumably to ensure government funding for a few more years. He fitted the stereotype. 11 MPs are currently visiting VSO projects in different countries, and supposedly having a ‘volunteer’ experience; his has been more of an embassy experience. On Wednesday we helped facilitate a review workshop for NGOs and their communities at the misnamed Sagarmarta (Nepali name for Everest – it is of course completely flat) Party (no sign of one) Palace (certainly not). Very interesting to work with a group other than education; the MP slept through most of it, possibly due to his wine consumption the previous evening and we bundled him into a rickshaw to take him back to the airport in the afternoon. Transport was difficult as it was the day for worshipping machinery. Buses, trucks, lorries, tractors, cars and rickshaws were taken to the temple to be blessed, have huge tikkas applied, and be festooned with garlands.
Most of the local factories have been forced to close because of the power shortages – more than 12 hours without electricity some days, and no schedule so it is impossible to plan. We try to keep our laptops and phones charged and the water tank topped up when we are home, but some days its impossible. When the power is on, it is usually only enough to produce a brown flicker in the light bulbs. We are loving our new supply of DVDs – have just finished Middlemarch and Cranford, often getting up in the middle of the night to finish an episode when the power comes on. We feel immersed in 19th century England – and indeed the conditions of some of our neighbours are not unlike the poor depicted there. Karna, now confident in negotiating his way round the computer, discovered Cranford yesterday, and is now very confused about what England is like.
Suddenly a 4 day workshop organised by a local NGO roused my colleagues from their torpor; after half an hour of planning they disappeared for the rest of the day. I met them at the NGO Federation at 8am on Friday tucking into a hearty breakfast. The workshop is targeting teachers from very poor Dalit communities near the Indian border, and follow up support will be provided. The lack of proper planning was evident, so we had a shamefaced debriefing at the end of the day. By Sunday things were going well, with some of the best training I have ever observed. On Monday, a bright young man from Save the Children, who are funding the initiative arrived for the final day – another useful local contact. We spent most of Tuesday ‘debriefing’ and planning for how we will change our approach for the primary training that starts at the ETC after Tihar.
Durga is being remarkably pro-active and we have been off into the countryside on the back of his motorbike visiting some of the headteachers who were trained before the monsoon. The travelling is wonderful, if precarious. On the highway he is no respecter of speed humps, and once off the road we bump along increasingly narrow tracks through bright green paddy fields and lush banana plantations, negotiating cows, buffalo, chickens, ducks, women carrying huge bundles of fodder and tiny children playing in the dirt. Blue mountains in the distance. Looks idyllic, but the reality of life in the villages is grim. Flimsy houses of bamboo and mud, dilapidated school buildings with dirt floors and no resources, but some bright eyed teachers trying their best. Children, as ever, are curious and delightful.
I read in the Guardian Weekly today that the average British family spend 34 minutes a day shouting at each other. Include the dog and multiply that by 10 and you have an approximation for a Nepali family. Especially when they live downstairs. We have discovered that they are very rich, own three cars, and want to buy the whole house from our landlord. They have just installed a generator, so now the 2 televisions are on from dawn til late. We are in delicate negotiations about who should pay the electricity bill for the month that we were in England.
On Sunday September 28 we go to Kathmandu for a VSO workshop followed by our Dashain holiday, rafting down the Seti river to Pokhara before we take to the hills. There is a general air of festivity already, with more street stalls selling trinkets, children with balloons and firecrackers, and the setting up of huge bamboo swings. The barley seeds will be planted on Tuesday. Our colleagues are starting their annual family gatherings with singing, dancing and much feasting on everything except fatted calves.
Saturday, 13 September 2008
National Education Day
It is sometimes hard to remain positive about the improvement of state education in Nepal. Schools were closed to celebrate National Education Day, following three days holiday for festivals last week. Purna arrived from Kathmandu for our annual review on Monday and spent a frustrating day chasing staff at the DEO and now has a better understanding of the problems that David has faced. On Tuesday and Wednesday mornings he attended schools with David and was delighted with the progress he saw. David’s teachers had worked really hard and did their best to impress. My turn was on Tuesday afternoon; Tulsi was called to a meeting as Purna arrived which delayed us, but Durga and Govind gave copious feedback. They told amazing stories of what they feel what has been achieved – including a first class pass for Deepti (Govind’s daughter) in her MSc. When Tulsi returned he held forth at length about the factors hindering change. Both David and I have set an agenda for the next six months, with a strong recommendation that we should not be replaced here. Sad, but given the situation and constraints under which we are working, it is not good use of a finite resource. We left late, and our departure was further delayed by a visit to Umapati who had just returned back from hospital after the removal of his gall stones. We were ushered into the bedroom where he was reclining like an emperor on rather grubby pillows, splendid in snowy white kurta pyjamas, watching television. We were obliged to shout our enquiries about his health. Nirmala appeared with lemon juice and the gall stones.
At last Durga has decided we can do some monitoring visits, following up recently trained teachers. He has approached the autocratic R N Bhattarai, headteacher of our adjoining school with a view to developing a model school – great in theory. We developed a monitoring form for training follow up and questions for a focussed discussion with the 7 primary teachers at the end of the morning. There are 7 primary teachers. I was 20 minutes into an observation of period 1 when Durga came in to say he had seen every one else and we could go. I persisted and watched whole lessons with different teachers for the rest of the day. At the end of the second day I had seen everyone at least once, so have some ideas about what would be helpful. I am trying to dissuade him from calling a staff meeting to announce that they must make a model school. Durga’s next plan is to evaluate the headteachers we ‘trained’ before the monsoon. We have been to visit my friend Bina at the girl’s school, who tells him proudly that she now does MBWA (management by walking around). At least she does the walking around. Expect we’ll assess all the headteachers in Morang by the end of next week. Another box ticked. I stayed on for the rest of Friday morning watching BEd students. The Science teacher, in jeans, a T shirt with a penguin on it and a baseball cap, managed a traditional lesson on viruses. I sat at the back of class 10, looking at 68 almost identical shiny black plaits. Outside strong sunlight shone on a beautiful green view, with tall palms, darker spreading mango trees, lush brilliant green rice paddy. Small brick houses with kaleidoscope lines of washing in red, pink, yellow, lime green, purple and turquoise. The English teacher was wonderful, with lively, interactive student-centred teaching. When I talked to him after his lesson I was delighted to learn he is being taught by Bedu, with whom I have done a lot of training. There is some hope!
The introduction of our empty yoghurt pots to David’s nursery class has caused great excitement and a 50% rise in attendance. Hours of fun making towers and bridges. Stacks with tops on and without tops. Stacks of tops without bottoms. Patterns on the ground with lines of pots. Trading pots with one another. Working in twos and threes to make bigger towers and watching them fall over and everyone chasing the rolling pots to add to their store. Friday was further enlivened by one child bringing in a baby goat called Gita. Most of the time they have nothing. They work on an open porch on the concrete floor outside two classrooms sitting on big mats VSO bought.
The weather is heating up again, as apart from the occasional thunderstorm the monsoon seems to be over. Youngsters are catching bullfrogs in the rapidly drying swamps; the night time chorus has subsided and has been replaced by cicadas and mating dogs. My computer has been infested with tiny red ants again. They scurry out from between the keys when it heats up and manage to transfer themselves to my underwear. They bite. Fortunately the laptop has responded well to a liberal spraying of Baygon. The electricity cuts increase every day; sometimes we are off for more than 12 hours. Our local hospital continues to operate by candlelight.
A dramatic end to the week. After a wonderfully peaceful (but electricity free) Saturday – Karna had gone home, the family disappeared about 7am, the dog slept – our bell rang at 8pm. There was a man on the porch, asking for the key to downstairs, saying he had to stay the night. We told him that the family were away and we had no keys. With our limited Nepali we did not know what to do next, but explained that he could not get in. He leaves and returns with a crow bar and attempts to break the padlock. By this time we are safely behind our metal gate, The hammering went on for sometime; the dog fell silent ……. more ringing. Another man with some English appeared and reported that they were supposed to provide security as the family would not be back from India until the next day. Eventually they left, locking the front gate behind them and locking us in - for security.
Tomorrow is National Children’s Day and another school holiday of course. The government has announced that there will be 100% literacy in two years.
At last Durga has decided we can do some monitoring visits, following up recently trained teachers. He has approached the autocratic R N Bhattarai, headteacher of our adjoining school with a view to developing a model school – great in theory. We developed a monitoring form for training follow up and questions for a focussed discussion with the 7 primary teachers at the end of the morning. There are 7 primary teachers. I was 20 minutes into an observation of period 1 when Durga came in to say he had seen every one else and we could go. I persisted and watched whole lessons with different teachers for the rest of the day. At the end of the second day I had seen everyone at least once, so have some ideas about what would be helpful. I am trying to dissuade him from calling a staff meeting to announce that they must make a model school. Durga’s next plan is to evaluate the headteachers we ‘trained’ before the monsoon. We have been to visit my friend Bina at the girl’s school, who tells him proudly that she now does MBWA (management by walking around). At least she does the walking around. Expect we’ll assess all the headteachers in Morang by the end of next week. Another box ticked. I stayed on for the rest of Friday morning watching BEd students. The Science teacher, in jeans, a T shirt with a penguin on it and a baseball cap, managed a traditional lesson on viruses. I sat at the back of class 10, looking at 68 almost identical shiny black plaits. Outside strong sunlight shone on a beautiful green view, with tall palms, darker spreading mango trees, lush brilliant green rice paddy. Small brick houses with kaleidoscope lines of washing in red, pink, yellow, lime green, purple and turquoise. The English teacher was wonderful, with lively, interactive student-centred teaching. When I talked to him after his lesson I was delighted to learn he is being taught by Bedu, with whom I have done a lot of training. There is some hope!
The introduction of our empty yoghurt pots to David’s nursery class has caused great excitement and a 50% rise in attendance. Hours of fun making towers and bridges. Stacks with tops on and without tops. Stacks of tops without bottoms. Patterns on the ground with lines of pots. Trading pots with one another. Working in twos and threes to make bigger towers and watching them fall over and everyone chasing the rolling pots to add to their store. Friday was further enlivened by one child bringing in a baby goat called Gita. Most of the time they have nothing. They work on an open porch on the concrete floor outside two classrooms sitting on big mats VSO bought.
The weather is heating up again, as apart from the occasional thunderstorm the monsoon seems to be over. Youngsters are catching bullfrogs in the rapidly drying swamps; the night time chorus has subsided and has been replaced by cicadas and mating dogs. My computer has been infested with tiny red ants again. They scurry out from between the keys when it heats up and manage to transfer themselves to my underwear. They bite. Fortunately the laptop has responded well to a liberal spraying of Baygon. The electricity cuts increase every day; sometimes we are off for more than 12 hours. Our local hospital continues to operate by candlelight.
A dramatic end to the week. After a wonderfully peaceful (but electricity free) Saturday – Karna had gone home, the family disappeared about 7am, the dog slept – our bell rang at 8pm. There was a man on the porch, asking for the key to downstairs, saying he had to stay the night. We told him that the family were away and we had no keys. With our limited Nepali we did not know what to do next, but explained that he could not get in. He leaves and returns with a crow bar and attempts to break the padlock. By this time we are safely behind our metal gate, The hammering went on for sometime; the dog fell silent ……. more ringing. Another man with some English appeared and reported that they were supposed to provide security as the family would not be back from India until the next day. Eventually they left, locking the front gate behind them and locking us in - for security.
Tomorrow is National Children’s Day and another school holiday of course. The government has announced that there will be 100% literacy in two years.
Saturday, 6 September 2008
Friends and neighbours
A very smooth journey back to Kathmandu via Delhi. The only casualty was one of David’s cans of varnish, bought to protect the already flaking paint on his beautifully crafted blocks for the nursery children. The entire contents of the bag, fortunately the small one, are now varnished. Its only the underpants that are likely to be a problem.
How easy it is to make the transition from the tranquillity of Bradford-on-Avon to the density and diversity of people, chaotic traffic and stench of diesel and rotting garbage in Kathmandu. The weather is depressingly similar; low cloud, grey skies, drizzle and heavy rain, but at least 10oC hotter. The traditional and modern sit easily side by side. As we drink delicious Himalayan coffee in our favourite Lazimpat café with our muesli, fruit, yogurt, toast and mountain wildflower honey, surrounded by young Nepalis with their laptops using the wifi to check e-mail, the egg seller arrives. She’s middle aged woman in red sari with splendid gold ear and nose rings with 24 egg trays each holding 2 dozen eggs strapped to her back. Free range of course. Rafi buys 2 trays.
We are warmly welcomed back at the VSO office; what we intended to be a short visit to announce our return turned into a whole day, as Purna and Rima wanted to talk about plans for the next few months. Rima’s maternity leave is imminent, and Purna starts his new job at VSO London in October. Lots to be completed before he goes; we find ourselves agreeing to do all kinds of things.
On Friday Purna and I went to NCED (National Centre for Educational Development), the lead organisation for teacher training, to meet Bishwanath, the Deputy Director. We want to build the relationship with VSO and try to establish a clearer role for volunteers in the development of teacher training. A wide ranging and at times difficult conversation produced no real outcomes. The future of teacher training and the role of NCED and the ETCs is uncertain. An adventurous return journey to the VSO office as the road was completely blocked. The taxi driver knew a short cut – of course. After 10 minutes struggle uphill on a dirt track, we hit a swamp in which a truck and a car were already stuck. With the help of stones, pieces of wood and lots of shoving we eventually moved them on, getting splattered with mud in the process. Our taxi driver got us through like a rally driver and kindly stopped at the water pump where the village women were washing themselves and their clothes so we could wash off the worst of the mud. Back at the VSO office just in time for the monthly education meeting, which generated lots more work to keep us busy until Purna arrives for a review meeting on September 8.
On Saturday August 30 we arrive at the airport with tickets for the 10:30 flight ‘home’. There is no 10:30 flight, and we are not listed at all. After a lot of patient smiling, the helpful man at the Buddha control centre manages to find two seats at 12:30. The domestic airport is always fascinating, especially out of the tourist season, with a diverse Nepali population returning to their villages with sacks, boxes, bulging plastic bags, huge suitcases and an occasional goat. Men and women in colourful embroidered clothes, with high cheekbones and weathered faces squat chanting with Buddhist prayer beads; Hindus sport elaborate tikkas from the temple for a safe journey.
When we eventually get airborne, the mountains are obscured by heavy cloud, but we are able to see the extent of the terrible flooding caused by the collapse of the levees of the massive Koshi river. 60,000 Nepalis and 4.5 million Indians in Bihar have been displaced and their rice crop lost. The Nepalis have been evacuated to Inaruwa, 20km from Biratnagar, but Inaruwa itself is now under threat of submersion. VSO is co-ordinating relief efforts with other international organisations and NGOs. The government appeal is likely to be less successful, as the newspaper headlines report that the money, food and other supplies ‘disappear’ . The floods have also brought down the towers supplying electricity to large parts of the country, and Biratnagar had none at all for two days. Now it is ‘occasional’. From cuts due to drought to those caused by too much rain in about a month.
As we got off the plane, we felt as if we had been muffled in a large, wet blanket, and we arrived home to find a white dog chained to the gate, a car wearing a plastic mac in the drive and festoons of washing. The children next door were fishing in the swampy water beside the house and shrieked greetings when they saw us. We met Pyel, a girl of about 16 and her mother, Rani. Neither admitted to speaking any English, but we exchanged smiles, greetings and introductions. We were alarmed to see that our water pump had been disconnected in favour of a picture of Shiva with flashing lights. The dog goes yip yip yip yip yip …….
Our flat seems to have survived the monsoon well; the mould, dead cockroaches, termite colonies, spiders’ webs, gecko poo and accumulated grime responded well to the hoover and the mop. The damp patch on the kitchen ceiling may take longer to fix. The plants are well, and there is enough basil to supply Jamie Oliver’s new chain of restaurants. The cows and buffaloes are sleek and fat from feasting on the lush vegetation. We walked to the market as our bike tyres were completely flat and our favourite man with pump takes the day off on Saturdays. Shopping took longer than usual as we had to greet everyone and recount tales of merry England in our rusty Nepali.
Normal life was resumed on Sunday; bikes given a makeover, cooking done, ice-cream made, Karna back from school to tell us all his news. We are dismayed to hear about the ‘teaching’ which consists of a series of different teachers coming to the class, writing on the board for 45 minutes, then going off to another college.
Having counted 19 people aged 75 to a few months old downstairs, the numbers supported by the extent of the washing lines and assorted vehicles (car, motorbike, 5 bicycles) we were delighted to discover that there are only 4 permanent residents – Pyel aged 16, her brother Abhishek, 13 and their parents, with several domestic servants, their children and a car driver. Pyel has got over her shyness and both children chat to us in excellent English, reflecting their privileged education at St Joseph’s. Unfortunately this has exacerbated the water crisis, especially when the car is being washed using a hose attached to our water tank. 24 hour power cut on Thursday / Friday stopped the water completely.
Daily swimming in afternoon sunshine has been a pleasure and a way of keeping clean. Particular excitement when a rat was discovered in the pool on Thursday and Shyam with a net, a mechanic and 2 chefs armed with metal spikes managed to hook it out of the pool. Instead of the expected clubbing to death, they tossed it over the wall. Expect to meet it again soon.
Tracey (Country Director) took us to dinner on Thursday evening; she is in the east visiting disability projects. Our friend Dinesh is back from Kathmandu and stranded as Kathmandu is currently only accessible by plane because of the floods.
Back at work
David has managed 1 ½ days in school this week, planning his schedule for the next few months. The other days schools were closed for the Teej festival. He spent those days using the remains of his varnish.
I arrived at the ETC on Monday, deserted except for Lalmani sitting on the steps in his vest and pants reading the newspaper. Gradually my colleagues arrived; they have had no real work since I left in mid July. Durga’s only excitement was a week’s visit to PLA (Maoist army) cantonments in the eastern Terai to set up an education access programme for young and not-so-young soldiers. Several itinerants seem to arrive for a mid morning sleep on the training room tables under a fan.
Tuesday was brightened by the delivery of small Hindu texts, so Tulsi sang most of the Bhagavad Gita in Sanskrit to us for the rest of the day. I have been taking staff photographs and making news boards – a big success. The logistical exercise of putting up photographs would make a fascinating time and motion study; this has prompted a general tidying up and an agreement that we will prepare the rooms ready for the new round of training (whenever that might be).
New carpets have been put down in all the offices; the carpet has been waiting in the storeroom for 5 years, so is a little mouldy around the edges. Having got new furniture and a new carpet, Durga has decided to do something about his office walls, which are covered in lists of training participants starting over 20 years ago. His name is there in 2047, the year his 18 year old daughter was born. The lists are of course riveted to the walls. Bhakta was brought in to remove the top nails, balancing on the tops of the windows. Durga had the foresight to turn off the fan to prevent a beheading. Concerted attacks with the claw hammer have brought down huge chunks of plaster – all over the new furniture and new carpet. It has made removal of shoes before treading on the carpet an irrelevance. I note that the brick that is used as a door stop has been covered in my ‘Old Macdonald’ song sheet.
How easy it is to make the transition from the tranquillity of Bradford-on-Avon to the density and diversity of people, chaotic traffic and stench of diesel and rotting garbage in Kathmandu. The weather is depressingly similar; low cloud, grey skies, drizzle and heavy rain, but at least 10oC hotter. The traditional and modern sit easily side by side. As we drink delicious Himalayan coffee in our favourite Lazimpat café with our muesli, fruit, yogurt, toast and mountain wildflower honey, surrounded by young Nepalis with their laptops using the wifi to check e-mail, the egg seller arrives. She’s middle aged woman in red sari with splendid gold ear and nose rings with 24 egg trays each holding 2 dozen eggs strapped to her back. Free range of course. Rafi buys 2 trays.
We are warmly welcomed back at the VSO office; what we intended to be a short visit to announce our return turned into a whole day, as Purna and Rima wanted to talk about plans for the next few months. Rima’s maternity leave is imminent, and Purna starts his new job at VSO London in October. Lots to be completed before he goes; we find ourselves agreeing to do all kinds of things.
On Friday Purna and I went to NCED (National Centre for Educational Development), the lead organisation for teacher training, to meet Bishwanath, the Deputy Director. We want to build the relationship with VSO and try to establish a clearer role for volunteers in the development of teacher training. A wide ranging and at times difficult conversation produced no real outcomes. The future of teacher training and the role of NCED and the ETCs is uncertain. An adventurous return journey to the VSO office as the road was completely blocked. The taxi driver knew a short cut – of course. After 10 minutes struggle uphill on a dirt track, we hit a swamp in which a truck and a car were already stuck. With the help of stones, pieces of wood and lots of shoving we eventually moved them on, getting splattered with mud in the process. Our taxi driver got us through like a rally driver and kindly stopped at the water pump where the village women were washing themselves and their clothes so we could wash off the worst of the mud. Back at the VSO office just in time for the monthly education meeting, which generated lots more work to keep us busy until Purna arrives for a review meeting on September 8.
On Saturday August 30 we arrive at the airport with tickets for the 10:30 flight ‘home’. There is no 10:30 flight, and we are not listed at all. After a lot of patient smiling, the helpful man at the Buddha control centre manages to find two seats at 12:30. The domestic airport is always fascinating, especially out of the tourist season, with a diverse Nepali population returning to their villages with sacks, boxes, bulging plastic bags, huge suitcases and an occasional goat. Men and women in colourful embroidered clothes, with high cheekbones and weathered faces squat chanting with Buddhist prayer beads; Hindus sport elaborate tikkas from the temple for a safe journey.
When we eventually get airborne, the mountains are obscured by heavy cloud, but we are able to see the extent of the terrible flooding caused by the collapse of the levees of the massive Koshi river. 60,000 Nepalis and 4.5 million Indians in Bihar have been displaced and their rice crop lost. The Nepalis have been evacuated to Inaruwa, 20km from Biratnagar, but Inaruwa itself is now under threat of submersion. VSO is co-ordinating relief efforts with other international organisations and NGOs. The government appeal is likely to be less successful, as the newspaper headlines report that the money, food and other supplies ‘disappear’ . The floods have also brought down the towers supplying electricity to large parts of the country, and Biratnagar had none at all for two days. Now it is ‘occasional’. From cuts due to drought to those caused by too much rain in about a month.
As we got off the plane, we felt as if we had been muffled in a large, wet blanket, and we arrived home to find a white dog chained to the gate, a car wearing a plastic mac in the drive and festoons of washing. The children next door were fishing in the swampy water beside the house and shrieked greetings when they saw us. We met Pyel, a girl of about 16 and her mother, Rani. Neither admitted to speaking any English, but we exchanged smiles, greetings and introductions. We were alarmed to see that our water pump had been disconnected in favour of a picture of Shiva with flashing lights. The dog goes yip yip yip yip yip …….
Our flat seems to have survived the monsoon well; the mould, dead cockroaches, termite colonies, spiders’ webs, gecko poo and accumulated grime responded well to the hoover and the mop. The damp patch on the kitchen ceiling may take longer to fix. The plants are well, and there is enough basil to supply Jamie Oliver’s new chain of restaurants. The cows and buffaloes are sleek and fat from feasting on the lush vegetation. We walked to the market as our bike tyres were completely flat and our favourite man with pump takes the day off on Saturdays. Shopping took longer than usual as we had to greet everyone and recount tales of merry England in our rusty Nepali.
Normal life was resumed on Sunday; bikes given a makeover, cooking done, ice-cream made, Karna back from school to tell us all his news. We are dismayed to hear about the ‘teaching’ which consists of a series of different teachers coming to the class, writing on the board for 45 minutes, then going off to another college.
Having counted 19 people aged 75 to a few months old downstairs, the numbers supported by the extent of the washing lines and assorted vehicles (car, motorbike, 5 bicycles) we were delighted to discover that there are only 4 permanent residents – Pyel aged 16, her brother Abhishek, 13 and their parents, with several domestic servants, their children and a car driver. Pyel has got over her shyness and both children chat to us in excellent English, reflecting their privileged education at St Joseph’s. Unfortunately this has exacerbated the water crisis, especially when the car is being washed using a hose attached to our water tank. 24 hour power cut on Thursday / Friday stopped the water completely.
Daily swimming in afternoon sunshine has been a pleasure and a way of keeping clean. Particular excitement when a rat was discovered in the pool on Thursday and Shyam with a net, a mechanic and 2 chefs armed with metal spikes managed to hook it out of the pool. Instead of the expected clubbing to death, they tossed it over the wall. Expect to meet it again soon.
Tracey (Country Director) took us to dinner on Thursday evening; she is in the east visiting disability projects. Our friend Dinesh is back from Kathmandu and stranded as Kathmandu is currently only accessible by plane because of the floods.
Back at work
David has managed 1 ½ days in school this week, planning his schedule for the next few months. The other days schools were closed for the Teej festival. He spent those days using the remains of his varnish.
I arrived at the ETC on Monday, deserted except for Lalmani sitting on the steps in his vest and pants reading the newspaper. Gradually my colleagues arrived; they have had no real work since I left in mid July. Durga’s only excitement was a week’s visit to PLA (Maoist army) cantonments in the eastern Terai to set up an education access programme for young and not-so-young soldiers. Several itinerants seem to arrive for a mid morning sleep on the training room tables under a fan.
Tuesday was brightened by the delivery of small Hindu texts, so Tulsi sang most of the Bhagavad Gita in Sanskrit to us for the rest of the day. I have been taking staff photographs and making news boards – a big success. The logistical exercise of putting up photographs would make a fascinating time and motion study; this has prompted a general tidying up and an agreement that we will prepare the rooms ready for the new round of training (whenever that might be).
New carpets have been put down in all the offices; the carpet has been waiting in the storeroom for 5 years, so is a little mouldy around the edges. Having got new furniture and a new carpet, Durga has decided to do something about his office walls, which are covered in lists of training participants starting over 20 years ago. His name is there in 2047, the year his 18 year old daughter was born. The lists are of course riveted to the walls. Bhakta was brought in to remove the top nails, balancing on the tops of the windows. Durga had the foresight to turn off the fan to prevent a beheading. Concerted attacks with the claw hammer have brought down huge chunks of plaster – all over the new furniture and new carpet. It has made removal of shoes before treading on the carpet an irrelevance. I note that the brick that is used as a door stop has been covered in my ‘Old Macdonald’ song sheet.
Saturday, 12 July 2008
Winding down
Variable weather from very hot and sticky to cool and wet. Electricity comes and goes. Water reduced to a trickle some days, but the new pump is wonderfully efficient. Most of the schools have closed for the monsoon break, so David is busy preparing teaching schemes for when he returns in September.
The last week of ‘proper’ work before the summer break was busy and enjoyable for me – I completed the last week of the English training; a delightful group of teachers to work with, and of course very easy to work in English all the time. I also managed to spend some time with the primary teachers as they finished off their portfolios. They are still spending huge amounts of time and effort producing beautiful ‘artistic’ pictures (peacocks made from stuck on sequins, rabbits with cotton wool fur, glittering flowers) and look confused when I ask how they could be used for teaching and learning. The reality is that they will join the piles of decaying and dust covered efforts produced by previous generations of trainees. I attended the ‘closing ceremony’ after 2.5 months of training. 4 ½ hours of speeches, followed by singing and dancing and tearful farewells.
Yet more training started on Sunday – a 5 day workshop for science teachers organised by Nepali Academy of Science and Technology. The purpose is to help them make physics materials that they can take back to their schools for practical demonstrations. On the first day they attempted to make electric bells from a power pack and assorted metal strips. After 6 hours of concentrated work, some managed to produce a scratching vibration. They all have excellent scientific knowledge, but so little ‘hands on’ experience. Advice such as ‘try connecting the red wire to the red terminal’ was gratefully received. Day 2 was more hazardous as they attempted to demonstrate Ohm’s Law. The training room was festooned with pieces of wire at head, neck, knee and ankle height, as 30 participants attempted to use the single power socket in the training room. Amazing that we are all still alive.
Three months after the election has seen no change. PM Koirala continues to make all decisions; he announced his resignation 3 weeks ago, but is still PM because only the head of state can accept his resignation. Following the deposing of the king, there is no head of state until the new government elect or select one ….. they have not yet decided how the process should work. And if Koirala becomes the new president, as Nepali Congress want, will he accept his own resignation? The CA has attempted to meet every day, but have not yet managed to conduct a session as dissenting factions with conflicting and increasingly ridiculous demands disrupt proceedings by shouting and chanting. Daily newspaper reports fluctuate between ‘breakthrough imminent’ to ‘no breakthrough in talks’.
A boring last week of finishing off paper work and reports for NCED and VSO, enlivened by lots of people dropping in for a chat. We ate excellent daal bhat at Durga’s house on Tuesday, followed by surfing Nepali TV channels, featuring political news (no news) and Nepali love songs. At 7:30 he asked if we wanted to stay the night, so we realised we had overstayed our welcome. We have been laden with gifts to take to his daughter in London. As the moon was obscured by thunder clouds and there were no street lights we got lost on the way home and became entangled in a wedding procession and the usual Pamplona-like stampede of cows and bulls to feast on the day’s debris at the market.
Govind’s attempts to find a suitably educated match for his lovely daughter Deepti have at last been successful, although he is financially crippled by the 5 lakh dowry (more than 3 years salary). After a week of wedding events, we attended the party on Friday afternoon, panting after our colleagues on their motor bikes to a ‘party palace’. Deepti had disappeared to wash her hair. We sat in a line on plastic chairs for 10 minutes, waiting for the daal bhat to be ready. Before we had finished shovelling rice into our mouths we were summoned to deliver the ‘ETC present’ – yet another rice cooker. A wet haired and exhausted Deepti reappeared; we did not meet her new husband. Within 5 minutes we were back on the bikes and cycling home.
Karna is researching places for his +2 programme (equivalent of sixth form), with long discussions with us each evening and advice from my colleagues. He is taking entrance tests for several different colleges. Term starts next week and we want to get him ‘settled’ before we leave for Kathmandu.
To Kathmandu on July 14, where we will meet our landlord. We think he is trying to sell the house and will not return to Biratnagar. A few days of VSO work and meeting friends before flying to England. Blog will resume when we return at the end of August.
The last week of ‘proper’ work before the summer break was busy and enjoyable for me – I completed the last week of the English training; a delightful group of teachers to work with, and of course very easy to work in English all the time. I also managed to spend some time with the primary teachers as they finished off their portfolios. They are still spending huge amounts of time and effort producing beautiful ‘artistic’ pictures (peacocks made from stuck on sequins, rabbits with cotton wool fur, glittering flowers) and look confused when I ask how they could be used for teaching and learning. The reality is that they will join the piles of decaying and dust covered efforts produced by previous generations of trainees. I attended the ‘closing ceremony’ after 2.5 months of training. 4 ½ hours of speeches, followed by singing and dancing and tearful farewells.
Yet more training started on Sunday – a 5 day workshop for science teachers organised by Nepali Academy of Science and Technology. The purpose is to help them make physics materials that they can take back to their schools for practical demonstrations. On the first day they attempted to make electric bells from a power pack and assorted metal strips. After 6 hours of concentrated work, some managed to produce a scratching vibration. They all have excellent scientific knowledge, but so little ‘hands on’ experience. Advice such as ‘try connecting the red wire to the red terminal’ was gratefully received. Day 2 was more hazardous as they attempted to demonstrate Ohm’s Law. The training room was festooned with pieces of wire at head, neck, knee and ankle height, as 30 participants attempted to use the single power socket in the training room. Amazing that we are all still alive.
Three months after the election has seen no change. PM Koirala continues to make all decisions; he announced his resignation 3 weeks ago, but is still PM because only the head of state can accept his resignation. Following the deposing of the king, there is no head of state until the new government elect or select one ….. they have not yet decided how the process should work. And if Koirala becomes the new president, as Nepali Congress want, will he accept his own resignation? The CA has attempted to meet every day, but have not yet managed to conduct a session as dissenting factions with conflicting and increasingly ridiculous demands disrupt proceedings by shouting and chanting. Daily newspaper reports fluctuate between ‘breakthrough imminent’ to ‘no breakthrough in talks’.
A boring last week of finishing off paper work and reports for NCED and VSO, enlivened by lots of people dropping in for a chat. We ate excellent daal bhat at Durga’s house on Tuesday, followed by surfing Nepali TV channels, featuring political news (no news) and Nepali love songs. At 7:30 he asked if we wanted to stay the night, so we realised we had overstayed our welcome. We have been laden with gifts to take to his daughter in London. As the moon was obscured by thunder clouds and there were no street lights we got lost on the way home and became entangled in a wedding procession and the usual Pamplona-like stampede of cows and bulls to feast on the day’s debris at the market.
Govind’s attempts to find a suitably educated match for his lovely daughter Deepti have at last been successful, although he is financially crippled by the 5 lakh dowry (more than 3 years salary). After a week of wedding events, we attended the party on Friday afternoon, panting after our colleagues on their motor bikes to a ‘party palace’. Deepti had disappeared to wash her hair. We sat in a line on plastic chairs for 10 minutes, waiting for the daal bhat to be ready. Before we had finished shovelling rice into our mouths we were summoned to deliver the ‘ETC present’ – yet another rice cooker. A wet haired and exhausted Deepti reappeared; we did not meet her new husband. Within 5 minutes we were back on the bikes and cycling home.
Karna is researching places for his +2 programme (equivalent of sixth form), with long discussions with us each evening and advice from my colleagues. He is taking entrance tests for several different colleges. Term starts next week and we want to get him ‘settled’ before we leave for Kathmandu.
To Kathmandu on July 14, where we will meet our landlord. We think he is trying to sell the house and will not return to Biratnagar. A few days of VSO work and meeting friends before flying to England. Blog will resume when we return at the end of August.
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