The Long Way Home - Prologue
This
is a story of hope and happiness. It is set in Nepal. It is a story of
sacrifice and love. It is a story of opportunity – or more accurately a lack of
it. It is a saga of sadness and despair as well. There is drama and adventure
and there is laughter and tears.
There
is many a paradox in this tale.
The
story commences in the ancient and magical city of Kathmandu and then it moves
to the beautiful but rugged Himalaya mountain ranges – close to the Tibetan
border. The destination is one of the most isolated places on the planet.
It is
a tale of journeys; these are both emotional and physical – the former on a
path to adulthood and the latter to a place called home.
The
characters in this narrative are vibrant and colourful – not because I have
written them this way but because it is simply the way that they are. There is
a holy man who is the reincarnation of one of the manifestations of the Lord
Buddha. His name is Rinpoche and he is the founder and patron of a school for
the children of Tibetan refugees. There is the granddaughter of the man who
first climbed Mount Everest and there is a quirky and affable traveller from
Taiwan. There is a collection of trekking guides and there is my younger
brother Richard. There is me too but I am a minor player – I am more a recorder
of events.
The
central characters are a group of six Nepalese children. Their names are Karma, Pema,
Saharata, Bikash, Bishunath & Ayush. Karma is the only girl in the group
and her village is the furthest away from Kathmandu. The children are all either 16 or 17 years old - so they are
on the cusp of adulthood. They all of them come from villages in a region that
is so far away from Kathmandu and so remote from society that there are no
roads or electricity or telephones. There is no Internet or television or other
things that we people from first world countries take for granted.
These
children come from the Dolpa region of western Nepal. The Dolpa is a very
secluded and isolated part of the country that is of such a high altitude that
the mountain slopes are constantly covered in snow. There are no accurate
numbers of the occupants of the Dolpa and the upper Dolpa regions however it is
estimated that no more than 15,000 people reside there. The occupants of the
land are direct descendants of the Bon. This is a religion that pre-dates
Buddhism – however it has morphed into what is now been labeled Tibetan
Buddhism. Few people outside of Tibet and Nepal know of the Bon but I do.
I know them well.
The people who live in the Dolpa are sustenance farmers. They grow what they eat and if they do not grow enough - then they starve. This happens not infrequently. They are rugged and tough mountain people.
They are survivors.
The
six children that this story is about were chosen by their tiny communities to
go to Kathmandu. They were identified and then selected at an early age as
being the smartest of their lot. They were deemed to have the greatest
potential to be educated and to escape their lives of abject poverty.
The
sole purpose of the children going to the nation’s capital was to get an
education. At the age of seven all six of these children – and five others from
this year group were collected together. They were frightened and excited in
equal parts. With adult guides they first walked and then rode and then walked
again for more than two weeks. This walk involved climbing in some parts over
mountain that were more than five and half thousand meters high. There were no
roads to follow – only tracks that had been used by shepherds and other
villagers for more than a thousand years.
Along
the way these children and their adult guides slept in caves and they carried
their own food and their meager possessions. All they owned was a change of
clothes and little else and they wore battered shoes that had been passed down
from older brothers or sisters. After fourteen days of walking, and as they got
closer to Kathmandu - they were able to catch local buses. Don’t think buses as
we imagine them – these are old and worn jalopies crammed full of people and
animals and other livestock. Some of the children rode on top of the jalopies,
as there was no room inside. The vehicles lunged and rattled down roadways that
had perilous drops into crevices and valleys far below – and then they crawled
their way up impossibly steep inclines. Finally, after nearly four weeks of
travel - these tired and scared children arrived at the Snowland School. Here older
children - also from the Dolpa – and all of who had made the same journey when
they were the same age, met them. In some instances the younger children had
elder siblings already at Snowland – so there were joyous reunions.
Thus
began what was a ten year stint of education and none of these children were to
visit home again in this period. The journey was simply too far and way beyond
the means of their families. All of this was only made possible by the efforts
of the Holy man - the monk named Rinpoche. He established the school for the
children of the Dolpa and Mustang regions of Nepal in 2002 and he named it
Snowland – a most appropriate name for children from the Dolpa region.
This
year – in 2014, or 2071 in the Nepali calendar - there are one hundred and
thirty six children at the Snowland School. The age range is from seven to
seventeen. Snowland is where they live and they go to school. It is their home
away from home. Classes are conducted six days of each week with small breaks
for the many Buddhist and Hindi festivals that occur in Nepal. The school and
the children are principally supported by the funds that the monk Rinpoche
raises through his many followers although other charities help out as well.
Mine
is one such charity.
We are small potatoes but we help where and how we can.
The children of Snowland more commonly know the monk – whose full title is Guru Ranag Rinchen Rinpoche as Dolpo Buddha – or simply ‘Guru’. To me he is Rinpoche – and whilst I am not a follower or devotee of his, he has become my good friend. Rinpoche is actually Taiwanese of birth and he divides his time equally between Taipei and Kathmandu. He is a healer and he has followers all around the world. His temple – or monastery – lies amongst a cluster of other monasteries known as Shey Gompa – and it has been the seat of his ancestors - called the Dolpo Shel-ri Rinpoches - for more than one thousand years.
The
Guru’s monastery is in the very faraway region of the upper Dolpa and sits at
about five thousand meters above sea level. Monks constructed it by hand on a
narrow precipice and in some places it has been carved out of red rock. It is located within a cradle of the Himalaya
ranges and lies in the shadow of a sacred mountain named Shelri Drug Dra in the
Nepali language – but is known as the Crystal Mountain by we Westerners.
All
of the students at the Snowland School are from these mountain regions that lie
against the border with Tibet and they were born in villages from the
Solukhumbu, Mustang, Mugu, Jumla and Humla districts of the Dolpa. Many of
their families are in fact refugees who fled from the Tibetan side of the
Himalaya when the Chinese invaded and occupied the country in 2008. They fled
for their lives. The mountain people who reside in these regions that buffer
Tibet are all Buddhists and were persecuted for their religious beliefs.
Fancy
that.
I will write more of the Guru Rinpoche a bit later.
His story and his history is a fascinating one and it is central and interwoven
with the tale of the six children.
I have been visiting Nepal for many years now. It is
not very far from where I live in Singapore – only five hours on a plane –
although Australia is actually my home. Nepal is quite far from there.
Everywhere is quite far from Australia.
I am an expatriate and I have been living in Singapore
now for more than five years. My work requires that I travel a lot and
particularly to India. I work often in Delhi and Kathmandu is even closer to
there. It is a little over an hour by plane and flights are cheap.
They are as cheap as chips.
Who I work for or what I do for a living is of no
consequence to this story and the tale is not about me anyhow. It is about the
children and the Snowland School and it is about going home.
I first went to Nepal with a group of people at my
work following a general invitation by a girl named Jessie. We went to teach
children English in a small village called Katunge.
Say it Kar-tun-jay.
Katunge is only a couple of hundred kilometers from
Kathmandu but it is still very remote. The road to Katunge from Dhading was
first built only ten years ago and it is not really a road anyway. It is a
rutted and pitted track that only four-wheeled drive vehicles can travel and
even then only for four months of the year. During and after the monsoon rains
the road turns to mud. I am always physically battered and bruised when I
travel to Katunge for it is a very bumpy ride.
My ass gets sore.
Very tough journeys are often required to reach the
best destinations.
I learnt this a long time ago.
I was
spellbound by the beauty of the vista of Katunge and even moreso by the people
of Nepal – particularly the children. I like to sit on the verandah of the
little visitor centre that we built up there at night. From the verandah I can
then see lights of kerosene lanterns coming on in the village on the other side
of the valley.
I
can't remember its name.
They
also appear from some scattered farms down near the river. They are pale lights
that flicker and I think that they are lanterns. There is never any sound at
night. None whatsoever. It is surreal and serene and it is very peaceful. Where
I live in Singapore there is always noise of traffic and people.
Katunge
is a good place for reflection and contemplation and consideration and I do
that often up there. To get such moments in such places is very rare and it is
almost magic. We need to snatch these moments when we can and make the most of
them.
I
learned this long ago as well.
My
friend and work colleague Jessie and I returned to Singapore after a week in
Katunge all those years ago and we decided almost instantly that we wanted to
return. We thought we could help better the school that we visited and provide
more opportunity for the mountain children. Thus began our own journey and one
that we continue to day and will continue forever.
That
is my hope at least.
Jessie
and I started a program to build schools and sponsor the education of children
– particularly the girls of Nepal who were denied more opportunity than boys –
not that there is a great deal of opportunity of boys though. We formed our own
little NGO and we raised funds to build physical properties. Many of the
children we first visited walked for up to two hours each day to get to school
and a further two hours to walk home.
They
walked up and down mountains and through great valleys.
I
have a passion for renewable energy so we also decked them out with solar
energy. There is no electricity in the mountains and even in Kathmandu load
shedding is a constant. It is the norm for the city to be without power for
more than twelve hours each day.
Fancy
that as well.
We
decided too that we needed to get more people involved in our program and to do
this we had to get people from Singapore and Hong Kong and Australia to visit
Nepal. We hoped that they in turn would connect – as we had – with the children
of Nepal and this would help get their support. This was Jessie’s forte and she
focused on arranging groups of volunteers to visit Nepal four of five times a
year.
She
still does.
We
discovered as well that the quality of education was dependent on the quality
of teachers that were in the schools so we established connections within the
education system in Kathmandu and we hunted for and then found good teachers.
Then we paid their salaries – a little bit more than they would normally earn.
We
still do.
Jessie
also arranges for dentists to visit the mountain children once every two years.
She recruits them from her native Taiwan and they set up clinics in dirt-floor
classrooms where with their field kits they do fillings and extractions. Yes
extractions.
It is
quite brutal.
The
program has grown and grown.
We
discovered as well that education in the mountains finishes at about age twelve
and if children wish to or their families can afford it – they must go and live
in Kathmandu. Most families are unable to afford this. Of the twelve million
children that reside in Nepal more than fourty percent finish their schooling
at aged twelve. I am not making these numbers up – UNICEF publishes them.
Look
them up for yourself.
So we
started to look for a school in Kathmandu who could cater for these children
and in our search we stumbled across a place called Snowland. It wasn’t what we
were after - as it was specifically for the Buddhist children of the Dolpa
region – but it and the children’s story captured our attention and then it
captivated our hearts.
This
was about three years ago.
We
did find the high school we were seeking for our mountain children but that is
a different story.
I
won’t tell it here.
When
we talked to the children of Snowland and they revealed that they had not been
home or seen their families for a decade our hearts broke. Tears were shed. I
am a parent and such separation is unimaginable. So we established a “Going
Home program’’ then and there and we have been running it now for three years.
For
the children that have completed Year Ten we pay for their airfares on the 2
small planes that are required to get close to the Dolpa region. These are old
and worn propeller planes that take off and land on perilous runways. We pay
for bus tickets for the 3 or 4 jalopy journeys that are required - and we pay
for the hiring of horses. We meet the costs of the mountain guides that
accompany the children and we buy appropriate food provisions for each child
and guide to take with them.
There
are no shops and few houses along the way.
We buy
each child warm clothing - for their return to the upper Dolpa is through ice
and snow. None of the children’s families could ever afford such expenses.
The
first year there were thirteen Year Ten graduates and we hooked up with a small
travel agency that arranged all of the transportation arrangements and found us
the guides that we needed. Some Nepali friends of ours in Kathmandu took the
children shopping with money we gave them to by the clothing and the food. We
also gave the children enough money to make the return trip and a little extra
for their families - for they would after all have an extra mouth to feed for
three months. That first year we wrote the cheques that were required to the travel
agent and we handed out the money that was needed - and the kids went home.
We did
all of this from Singapore.
The
next year there were ten Year Ten graduates from Snowland and much as we did
the first year - we sent them home as well.
This
year there were eleven Year Ten graduates and I happened to be in Nepal doing
some work in the Katunge schools – mainly servicing the solar panels. I was
with my brother. When we returned to Kathmandu and went to Snowland we met for
the first time the kids going home this year. It was only a couple of weeks
before they were leaving and they were very excited, Richard and I got very
caught up in the excitement of it all and whilst I was off assisting with all
the travel arrangements and paying our travel agent my brother Richard spent a
lot of time with the kids.
He got
told some of their stories.
We
were only a few days from leaving Nepal at that stage – me to Singapore and
Richard to Australia. The next day Richard told me that he was going to stay on
in Nepal and go home with them.
I was
not at all surprised. Richard is a bit of dreamer and an adventurer and he is a
father himself. He wanted to witness and be a part of these family reunions
that were a decade overdue. He did not invite me for he knew that I could not
make such a trip - as I would simply be physically incapable of it. Altitude
sickness sets in for me at a height of 4200 meters. I discovered this a year or
so ago whilst on my way to see an ancient mountain monastery. The journey the
children were to make was up and over then up again mountains that were 5500
meters high.
I
simply could not physically do it.
By pure chance a friend of Jessie’s who was Taiwanese dude named Sylar was travelling in Nepal at that time. Jessie suggested we meet up and we did. When we told him the story about Snowland and the Going Home program he said he wanted to come too.
So it was Richard and Sylar that took all eleven of the children shopping for warm clothing and for food provisions. Five of the children came from a region adjacent to Dolpa called Mustang and they set out with the guides we had engaged and they were equipped with food and warm clothing. The other group of six who came from villages in the Dolpa and Upper Dolpa regions went with two guides who all had warm clothes and food provisions as well.
They
departed with Richard and Sylar who were equipped with video and still cameras
and solar chargers for these devices. They planned to record as much of the
journey as they could by film - including interviews with the six children to
better understand their expectations for the reunions with their families and
their homes - and to find out what they planned to do next. We wanted to know
what their dreams and aspirations were and how they had been affected by being
away from their villages and their families for so long.
Richard
and Sylar are back now and they have many funny and sad and emotional stories
to tell. The many memory sticks and portable hard drives they took with them
are full. Accompanying my words will be many photographs of the children and
the journey and the reunions with their families.
It is
the story of the children that I am going to tell in the pages that follow. It
is the story of the long way home
Like the all the best apologues – it is true.
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