Views from a high land

2009-12-09T06:05:00.000-08:00

Eating Out?

There is absolutely no connection between these two pictures.

Yes KFC and Pizza Hut finally made it to Nepal's capital a couple of weeks ago. Reports have it that there have been long queues at both outlets every since.

Its also reported that the raw material for KFC comes from Brazil. Seems a long way for a chicken to the top of the world.

As for the guy on the bike. I doubt if he is going to make a sale at the renowned outlet. Perhaps he is there to taste the opposition.

The hut. Well it will have stiff competition in Kathmandu. Here's to lower prices all round.

2009-11-22T06:25:00.000-08:00

Yet Another Festival
Its said that every day somewhere in Nepal some ethnic group or other is having a festival. I was lucky enough to be in the far west of the country whenwoman were celebrating Teej, pronounced teach.
Shops close and after the obligatory worship, dancing takes place in the street and lasts long into the night. The woman (and this is specifically a woman’s event) will have fasted since midnight and will continue until the following morning, when devoted husbands will give them food. Other than weddings, these festivals are the only times for dressing up in the bright red saris. Tomorrow they will return to the daily grind of eking out a survival living from little plots of land, roadside teashops or cutting and carrying firewood. Festivals punch a bright red hole in substance living.

2009-11-16T06:53:00.000-08:00

Ghats: Looking at Death

Yesterday was one of those special days for many devotees in this Hindu religious society. From early morning at the Pashupatinath (Pash Pattie) Temple they came to pour water from the river, scatter seeds around the temple grounds in the belief that the souls of the departed will receive salvation.

For at this temple every day the smoke of death can be seen. For here right in the heart of the city is its main cremation site and in keeping with tradition and belief right beside the river which eventually will wend its way to India and join with the great and holy Ganges. In fact it’s on the tourist trail. After the various temples and squares your taxi driver will take you here to see the body being placed on the pile of wood and the fire lit by the eldest son of the deceased. When the fire has consumed all then the ashes will be swept into the river for the long journey south.

By contrast in the west death is rarely spoken about and often hidden. Even spiritual conversation is viewed as not very PC. Perhaps its because in our materialist and individualist society we don’t want to be reminded that wealth, fame, possessions and education are for one life alone. Far too many of us do not have a faith to prepare us for death. In the Bible St. Paul says: “ Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where O death is your victory? Where O death is your sting?”

But in this society where faith is always nearer the surface we are reminded death is not the end. We need to put our trust in God not in ourselves.

2009-11-15T02:23:00.000-08:00

Driving in the hills in the far west of Nepal.

The road is narrow and drops away steeply on one side. Winding where possible around the hills, but at times plunging into deep valleys only to rise again to 11 or 12,000ft.and into the mists and low cloud. It rained all night; a slow persistent cold rain, which, added to the monsoon a few months ago will mean the already loose slides, will have come down onto the road. We stop in a village beside a group of men huddled together drinking the hot sweet tea Nepali’s love. “Is the road open and will we get through?” we ask. They talk together occasionally pointing to our vehicle with their chins. “Yes, with your 4 wheel drive you will get through”.

More bends, more climbing then a few busses and trucks are parked, we tuck in behind. Sure enough a large landslide has all but closed the road. The drop to the river now brown coloured, evidence of slides further on is a good 1000ft.below. With others we tumble the manageable boulders over the edge. Occasionally a loose stone comes hurtling down from above. We clear a path just wide enough for a vehicle, its loose and bumpy; our driver is ready and accelerates through. It’s with thankfulness we climb aboard. Winding on hour after hour we pass lonely groups of houses, some serving tea and snacks, some much too close to the edge and are in danger of further slides. What kind of world economy is it that forces people to scratch out a living in situations like this?

Another landslide this time its loose sand and gravel that has blocked the road, huge pine trees lie on their side felled by the slide towards the river below. A bus is stuck in the middle. Some 30 people are pushing from behind, others are pulling on a rope tied to the front, and some are rocking the bus to help it grip the soft surface. In a cloud of black exhaust fumes it’s free. The ruts are filled in, and the now long queue of trucks and busses on either side gets moving again. We have been delayed a few hours but so what? For the people living in these remote regions where everything is brought in by road, a blocked road is more than an inconvenience; it’s a serious threat to their way of life. Perhaps later this week or next week the bulldozer will reach them. Until then this drive becomes a lot more dangerous. More rain is forecast.

2009-11-09T12:54:00.000-08:00

It seems just another routine Wednesday morning. I am on my way to the domestic airport to catch a short flight to a District to participate in a workshop and meet a partner organisation. The huge snow-capped mountains always at their best at this time of year form an awesome semi-circular backdrop to the Kathmandu valley.

But out on the road there is an eerie feel, at ever junction and bridge groups of riot police are on duty. With their helmets, shields and metre long sticks they look ready for their business. Parked nearby are trucks full of armed police. The country faces another round of political street protest, blockades and the consequent shortages of essential items.

With food prices already rising beyond the reach of many due to world market forces and with all the other daily challenges facing the country, these good and kind people do not deserve a long winter of discontent.

We must re-double our efforts to talk our way out of these situations rather than make the people suffer.

2009-09-09T02:46:00.001-07:00

Some Notes on Peacebuilding in Nepal

The sun shines brightly on the snow-covered mountains all around. Children dart out from behind buildings to have a look at the stranger in the village; they disappear when you smile at them. Over to my left woman are already in the fields harvesting by hand what they will later in the day, over an open fire, turn into a few pieces of flat bread. This is Nepal, high up in a remote hilly region where there are no roads and remarkably over 150,000 people live in villages strung out over hills and down into valleys like a string of cheap beads. I had been dropped in by light plane, its return would depend on the weather and a host of variables not least the reliability of the plane itself. On another trip after I had got out of the plane it simply refused to start. Great bellows of black smoke was all it offered. Left to the morning it started first time. Reminds me of a car I used to have.
What am I doing here? Sometimes I ask myself that question as well. I suppose like all associated with MNI trying to make things a little better, or at least not any worse.
The 10-year bloody civil war here ended with a peace agreement in November 2006 having killed at least 14,000 people, goodness knows how many injured and still today over 1000 people missing. But as always implementing a peace agreement is perhaps just as difficult as making it. The political in-fighting continues day after relentless day.
A few months after arriving here in 2006 I gave a short presentation on peacebuilding to the staff team, mainly Nepali, of the United Mission to Nepal (UMN) This large institution to which I had been assigned for a 4 year term as conflict transformation advisor has been involved in development work since 1953. At the end of what was probably a pretty boring and pretentious presentation a rather dour Nepali colleague took me to one side and said, “Joe we are always fighting, it’s the way we are. Its been going on for generations, but do your best”. Suddenly I felt very much at home. Here was good old norn iron writ large.

In what must have been a sort of prophetic statement sometime in my twenties my father warned me never to work in or travel to a country, which ended in stan. Perhaps even then he saw my interest in the chaotic, noisy, bitterly cold or hot and sweaty places of the world. I thought of him recently when a parcel arrived from home, posted by one of my 3 faithful sisters. The newspapers and chocolate were wrapped in the familiar brown paper he had salvaged from the wholesale grocery he worked in for 50 years and closed when he retired. Well at least Nepal doesn’t end in stan.

Conflict transformation advisor means you know more about conflict than others. Thats not such a big deal here since despite the war most people effectively ignored it. At least those with education in Kathmandu where it never really reached with a vengeance, probably shrugged and left it to the politicians. The idea that peace is everybody’s responsibility is still taking root. All the big INGOs are here and have been for over 20 years. However blending conflict transformation in and through development work seems not to have happened in the past. Like people everywhere the INGOs have taken a long time to re-calibrate their traditional work. Sadly a recent research report talks of development work done from the relative comfort of Kathmandu. What was really happening outside seemed not to be recognised. Until due to the conflict the space for development work shrunk to an extent that the large donors then demanded more work on the conflict rather than traditional development in a conflict country.

In the hilly region on this trip I will meet up with the small UMN regional team living and working among the local people. In particular I will spend time with the conflict transformation officer, one of 7 my Nepali colleague and I recruited and trained. Each is based in a regional team in seven of the poorest and most desolate parts of the country. Others will have responsibility to support local NGO projects in health, education, HIVAids, food security and other general development work. On this trip I might share some pearls of wisdom, but mostly I work to support, encourage and train the young team of conflict workers. As in N. Ireland peace will come not through some smart outsider, but because local people want it more than war. To-morrow as required I will need to check in with the local authorities. At the police post I produce my dog-eared photo-copied passport, fill in and sign various forms, take a glass or two of sweet tea. The more junior officers under paid and over armed will be happy to practice their English. Wherryoofrrom? How arr you? When however the superintendent appears in front of his officers he is like a bank manager behind his desk reviewing a rather disappointing balance. Yet relationships are everything here and my rather greying hair and age are a distinct advantage. Sometimes I am even called sir, a title I rarely got while teaching up the Shankill. More tea and hand shaking and we are the best of friends.

If my officer is on the ball he may have arranged a seminar on family violence, or trauma healing or peacebuilding and pulled in the great and the good from around the area. Here people always get a small allowance for attending seminars or training events as well as food in the middle of the day. These often take place in poorly lit and often damp rooms where people sit on the floor on small cushions. A sort of flip chart and pens are provided. Electricity is rarely available in remote areas. In another region the NGO is working with widows from both sides of the war. Widows are about as low caste as you can get. Seen as bad luck they usually are turned out of their husband’s Hindu extended family home and have to fend for themselves and any children they have. In yet another area small centres have been set up by a woman’s co-op. Disputes over water, firewood, grazing animals and the like are resolved through a mixture of western mediation and traditional elders’ consultation.

In all of these places you get wonderful pictures, meet amazingly friendly and helpful people and sometimes pick up a very powerful stomach bug. Often this lasts longer than the memories.

One young woman about 23 years old was very obviously disabled and as a result not good marriage material. The gunmen had swept through her village when she was 17. All families were to “donate” a young person to the cause of freedom. Her brother was taken. Her parents went into a permanent state of mourning for their only son. The Hindu culture demands that he light the funeral pyre for his parents after death. They remained inconsolable for many days. Finally this brave young woman made contact with the local commander and arranged to take her brothers place. The exchange was made. Then after over a year of active service she sustained a gun shot wound to her foot which stubbornly refused to heal. She was discharged and with the poor medical care these remote people have come to accept the infection spread. The rest as they say is a lonely poverty stricken life.

This is Nepal beyond Kathmandu and the familiar trekking trails where life is getting better but only very slowly.

Joe Campbell .

2008-10-02T03:09:00.002-07:00

Nepal and the Phone Revolution

In common with many other developing countries Nepal has been benefiting from the phone revolution. Less than 2 years ago I met a man in the far west who had walked the most of two days just to make a call to far off Kathmandu checking up on his son in hospital after an accident. For the 160,000 people in that remote region there were 2 phone lines and not always working. Today lots of little corner shops have a handset connected to a satellite. Now people can keep in touch with relatives working over he border in India and others working in the Gulf and indeed around the world.
On the mobile front new companies have emerged, costs are dropping and the long queues for government approved zim cards have been bypassed. Control has been moved from often-corrupt easygoing officials to the private sector. Now in even remote areas where running water and electricity are very rare mobiles far outnumber cars, bikes and trucks. Charging is usually by solar power for the very latest Indian and Chinese made models with more gadgets and memory than would have been dreamt of only 12 months ago. People on pushbikes use them, motorcyclists have them tucked into the side of their helmets, and even Hindi priests have been seen reaching into their orange robes to take a call. As the FM radio network has grown now the mobile brings today’s news into homes and corner shops with not an electric wire in sight. Forget the old land lines, Nepal is changing and the humble mobile is playing a key role.

2008-10-02T03:09:00.001-07:00

Mugu without Makeup

Its 5.30am, we have washed our faces at the guest house tap, bags are packed, ready for the 2.5 hr walk to the airstrip to meet the 8am flight back to Surkett and on to Doti vie Nepalgunj. Its already overcast reducing the chances of a flight today, but you have to be there just in case, flight turnaround time is about 10 minutes.

The birds have been singing for an hour and some shops and homes are already coming to life as we walk up the roughly cobbled street. Smoke is drifting out of windows and doorways as cooking fires are coaxed into life. Strings of plastic buckets and basins, others of pots, pans and brushes are being hitched to nails on walls outside the small shops. The dust and dirt from yesterday is swept up or pushed away. The bank awaits its bimonthly delivery of money by air, until then it acts as the keeper of the tic sheet, all to be repaid when the money arrives.

As our path drops down to the valley floor we cross a river where woman are already washing clothes while others wait their turn to fill water containers for the days cooking. Some have had their fill and are balancing the ten-gallon container on one hip as they make their way up the steep uneven path home. This is a district where over 60,000 people eek out a day-to-day living mainly in the fields and terraces. There are no roads, cars, tractors or bikes. Where walking is not a leisure activity, it’s a necessity.

We are struck by just how quiet it is as we pass through another village where we count at least 50 woman harvesting wheat by hand, soon it will be tasty flat bread for the whole family.
A few men work with pairs of buffalo to plough up another field preparing for rice planting, monsoon is expected in a couple of weeks. Small naked unwashed children appear and I am reminded that because of child mortality in this region they usually are not named until they reach 5 years old.

It’s got cloudier and somewhere we have taken a wrong path, as we ponder where next, a man shouts and gestures further up the hillside. He’s renewing the thatch on his house, and knows exactly where the two foreigners are going at this time of the day. From his vantage point he’s likely been watching us for the past hour.

As we get close to the airfield we listen for the small plane. We scan the hills and valleys, but they are disappearing fast in the gathering mist, no flight today. We join the 4 or 5 others waiting in hope perhaps this afternoon, or tomorrow. We spend a while watching the donkey owner move the 40k bags of rice delivered on yesterday’s flight to a secure store, then later in the afternoon workers, mainly woman arrive to be paid on the UN’s rice for work programme. Each gladly receives a bag, soon in the misty distance we can see the distinctive white bags slowly make their way up and over the hills on the backs of their owners. Its just not possible to grow enough food for the people who live in this remote region. The plane is a lifeline, but not today. Now its raining, visibility is less that 100 meters, we shelter, share the local rice, water pipe, toilet and the floor to sleep on.
This is Mugu with makeup.
(Mugu is a district in the far north west of Nepal. According to govt figures it is the poorest district in the country.)

2008-03-07T03:48:00.000-08:00

Was your marriage a Love Marriage?

Not the sort of question we are often asked. In fact its the first time in over 33 years of marriage.
Asked by one of the Nepali young people in the picture its a perfectly normal question here in Nepal where almost all marriages are arranged by families on both sides with perhaps some money changing hands. However the question is an indication that things are changing. More young woman are developing their own careers and delaying marriage, other men and woman are increasingly asking to have a greater say in the choice of a life partner. Love marriages are becoming more common especially among those who are members of other faiths. Usually these are endorsed by members of both families. Whichever choice these young people take one thing is certain, they will have to work at making their marriage a life long love one.
Oh yes, the answer to her question is yes. It still is.

2008-03-01T09:08:00.000-08:00

Her mother fled along with hundreds of others faced with an onslaught of ethnic violence that claimed 35 lives. The next day she was born. Now 4 months old her home is a tent in a camp for displaced people to afraid to return to rebuild their homes.

2008-03-01T08:48:00.000-08:00

It’s a steep climb from city life to rural reality.

Because I am able to travel to many parts of Nepal it’s a constant reminder of the contrast between life in the city in Kathmandu for its 2million people and the reminder of the 25m population of this Himalayan former kingdom. Reading one of Kathmandu’s several glossy monthlies, dream a little, and you could almost convince yourself you were in any one of a dozen European capitals. Whole page spreads on flashy new cars, 4X4s, fashion, jewellery, perfume, the very latest TV and DVD players and properties with huge price tags.
The ads tell us you can party any night of the week or every night if you wish. Even eat “fresh” Scottish salmon and there are articles about famous people who have made Nepal their home. Well the city anyway, no doubt behind large walls and gates controlled by a security guard. Perhaps its many years since they experienced rural reality away from the well trodden trekking routes.

Yet this city, this Kathmandu currently experiencing weekly power cuts of 50 hours a week. Where you risk serious illness by drinking water that has not been filtered or just bought bottled. Where all to often rubbish is left to rot in the streets for lack of a systemic collection and dumping regime. Tourism continues to grow and many hotels have reported the best year yet. But wait, all the big hotels have back up generators, water filtering and food preparation that ensure that even the real city life that is what most Nepalese experience is kept firmly outside their carefully guarded walls and gates.

Take a bus ride outside the “valley” and what hits you firm between the eyes is a straight dose of rural reality. Even the bus ride could cause culture shock. Roads where the surface has parted from the foundations, past men sitting in the sun playing children’s board games out of sheer boredom and lack of meaningful work. Woman with some men working long hours in the fields or tending to a few animals just as has been done for countless generations. Others, trying to earn enough simply to put rice on the table for their family, sit at little roadside stalls selling the same as all the other little shops. Houses are mainly poorly constructed and most are without running water or electricity. Young woman carry water to their homes for personal and clothes washing. Children who ought to be in school work in a range of small tea shops and cafes to boost the families meagre income.

If the bus crosses a dry riverbed, and there are plenty of these in Nepal during the hot dry season, there could be a hundred people breaking stones by hand, or screening sand for building by simply throwing it by the shovel- full through small wire grids. Another squad of woman can be seen carry huge loads of sand and stones on their backs to the spot where men load ten ton lorries with shovels.

However some changes are happening despite government inertia. Where only months ago telephone lines in remote areas were few and far between with many stories of people waking days simply to make a call. Now thanks to the new generation of mobile phones the old land lines are increasingly being bypassed by people experiencing first world technology for the first time. And slowly every so slowly roads are being built, extended or black topped and thus the markets for locally grown food products are being extended.

There is no need for the high tech gyms of Kathmandu in the countryside for the reality is people are thin often very thin. For many the difference between food security and scarcity is a fine line. See anyone with a paunch in a rural village chances are they are visiting family on a short break from their job in one of the gulf states. The money they send back perhaps by sons and in some cases daughters is often the main income for that family.

Every now and then a politically motivated strike will cut supplies to Kathmandu. Shortages will begin to appear very quickly, usually petrol, diesel and bottled cooking gas. The city will experience a short dose of rural reality that’s life for most of the population for all of the time. Somehow its smoothed out or more likely bought off and we in the city can go back to our glossy mags hoping the rural reality stays just where it is.

2008-02-02T05:05:00.000-08:00

The Ordinary People Suffer

This is a camp for displaced people on Nepal's Indian border. Living this way since violence erupted last Sept. A mixture of fear and politics prevents these people from returning home. But at the end of the day its the elderly and small children who suffer. UMN will help with health related camps, and perhaps specialists help for children. But they through their partner will also help the "other side" equally. Some time some day they will live together again. For wars are started by people and people will end them, here hopefully soon.

2008-01-06T09:40:00.000-08:00

Beep—Beep--Beep
‘Beep—Beep’ this is the sound you hear all the time in Kathmandu, and almost anywhere in Nepal where there is traffic movement. If you think some friend has spotted you or someone is asking you to move out of the way, then forget it. The car, bike or truck horn has many more uses than we traditionally think. As I write this, yes I can hear it,’ beep---beep---beep’. I often wonder who is the last to’ beep-beep’ at night in the Kathmandu valley, and who is the first to start up this great symphony on the following morning? Perhaps it’s the guy who rounds the bend near to our home at about 5.30am,’ beep—beep--beep ‘he goes I wonder who at? Who needs an alarm clock??

The horn is something you just cannot do without. Lights yes, indicators yes, but horn definitely no. People beep it as they drive very gingerly along the rough crowded roads; young lads (and not so young) do it as they spin around on their motorbikes. Big trucks carrying all sorts of stuff into the city beep, usually giving several loud three or four tones, saying in effect,” I’m big move over”. Through the hilly mountainous regions the bus will always’ beep—bee’ as it wends its way round one hairpin bend after another on the lonely often-single tack roads. As the sound drifts through the valleys it’s a sure signal to the village up ahead, the bus is coming, although perhaps its still 45 minutes away! If you stay in a house or guesthouse in a town make sure it’s not near the bus park. If you’re not sure where it is you will be at about 5am in the morning as life on the roads gets under way and the ‘beep----beep’ means, hurry up ,’ I’m leaving any minute, get on’.

For cars and bikes in the city’ beep—beep’ means simply, ‘look out I’m here’. Walkers and other road users had better not make any sudden moves. When traffic lights are at red or you are stuck in a jam’ beep---beep’ to show your frustration and build the pressure on those up ahead. If a traffic police officer is directing traffic’ beep---beep’, to hurry them up. Then when the lights turn green, or a wave from the cop comes,’ beep--- beep’ all together in a great celebration. Its like the flag has dropped at the start of the northwest 200 race.

2008-01-06T09:29:00.000-08:00

The UMN Christmas Celebration is always an occasion for staff, their families and friends to join for carol singing, friendship, gift giving and food. Here over 200 people gathered in the Christmas Eve winter sunshine.

There is plenty of rungichangi around.(Nepali for colourful flags) There was even some jhilimili. (multi coloured lights)

Some young people from a local church provided a really good mime and the event finished with hot food.

2007-12-05T03:11:00.000-08:00

Winnowing Without Wind
When its rice harvest time then the whole family needs to be involved. With many bags filled most to be sold for hard earned cash this family demonstrate the work involved in this final procedure.

The dried stalks are slowly dropped in front of the wind maker the chaff is blown away and the quality brown rice falls to the ground for bagging.
The Bible makes it clear that much of what we do is chaff. Service to others however in the name of Jesus is of real value.

2007-11-28T05:04:00.000-08:00

Water and Life

It’s said that up 50% of the worlds population get their water, mainly snowmelt from the Himalayas. Of course either side of the world’s highest mountain range is China and India whose growing populations demand more and more of this seemingly diminishing resource.

Nepal is almost totally reliant on water not only for the usual needs of its population but also for the electricity it produces. But the demand outstrips supply and during all months of the year but especially during the cold dry winter, electricity is cut to the large population centres on a rotational basis around the country, sometimes up to 40 hours per week.

This of course has little or no impact on the vast numbers of the population who live in small “powerless” villages whose supply of water is the village tap or river from where it must be carried every day. These taps are often the social meeting centres as well as work area.

Because water is not supplied to homes it’s often much easier if work is taken to the water. Vegetables are river washed before being taken to the market, or clothes are brought to the river for washing and laid out in the sun to dry. People use the local rivers as bath and shower. They have no other choice.

As in so many countries of Asia, farmers, often woman are experts at managing water for their terrace fields where the slight angle of the terrace and a carefully placed stone ensure the supply channelled in from a higher river supplies each field in turn without washing out the precious soil.

So next time you turn on a tap at home, just think, most people in the world have never yet had that experience.

2007-11-15T08:00:00.000-08:00

Nepal: Land of the Bus

Shudder, clank, and rattle, swaying from side to side the fully overloaded bus makes its way up and along the mountain road, potholes and ruts are avoided when possible. The drop is something like 3000 ft from the narrow unguarded edge to the trees and river far far below. We slow to almost a stop and creep towards the edge as another bus coming towards us squeezes past. A blast of the air horns and we slowly gather some speed.

This is the land of the bus where every day tens of thousands of people are moved around and over the country. In a land with only a slip of a railway system tucked away in a few miles of track near to the Indian border, this is the only way to travel for the vast numbers of the population for whom airfares are out of reach, and car ownership only for the very rich. Produce has to be got to market, people to the district hospital, workers off for a day or weeks work, children to school, all beyond the reach of a motorbike or ox cart.

They say that you know a Nepali bus because there is always room for one more. With sitting boards placed between the aisles of seats, and three people already sitting on each of the two seats down the aisles, and the full length roof rack already fully loaded with the brave usually youth, you just cannot contain your surprise as the driver slows and stops beside yet another little group on the roadside who have “stuck their arm out”. Somehow we fit them in.

All of life happens on a Nepali bus. A woman breast feeds her child, a man clings to his platted cage of day old chicks, a little boy is sick into a plastic bag and his father drops it out the window, and at the last count 5 goats had been hauled up the back onto the roof to join the people and piles of bananas up there. In the city where roof travel is banned at least in theory, goats regularly travel inside the bus, but granted not on a seat.

At each small village the conductor hangs out the open door shouting the destination urging people on board, then thumping the side of the coachwork, that’s the signal for the driver to move off. But wait, more thumping on the paintwork, someone is shouting, we stop and yet another person is somehow squeezed in.

Driver and conductor work as a finely tuned team, conductor hanging out the open door he will whistle or thump the side when its possible to move in after overtaking, or he will use the specially developed Nepali bus hand signal to tell the overtaken driver to slow down as they have to move in because of an on-coming vehicle. After a couple of hours sitting near the front you soon learn this “bus language”. The team’s aim is to pack in as many passengers as possible and get them to their destination as safely and as quickly as Nepal’s roads will allow. Timetables and schedules are non-existent; waiting around until the bus is full is the norm.

Riding on a Nepali bus is certainly a challenge for westerners who are used to their private space. Getting on an already full bus or better still, getting off, stepping over those boards, squeezing around people, all the time the bus is moving and swaying is an unforgettable experience. People smile especially at the foreigner; they know this is a unique Nepal experience. Sometimes an orange or banana is offered for refreshment or even the few inches on the end of an already well-packed seat.

Sometimes the driver will reach up to a little box above his head where a radio is housed, then the happy receptive sounds of Nepali music will dampen the creaking of the old bus as it labours up a winding section of road. Gears will gradually be lowered each one proceeded by a belch of black smoke from an engine that would be banned in all western countries. We move out to pass a bus where conductor and driver are changing a punctured wheel, a blast of air horn before the next blind corner is a reminder never to sleep near a bus depot or stopping point. The tone and volume of those horns will somehow convey just how important this bus is, fine but at 4.30am??.

Occasionally the driver will take a mobile phone call from a colleague several miles up ahead, warning of a political roadblock in Nepal called a chukka-jam. Since there are no side roads to avoid this we pull into a small café service area. Driver and conductor disappear for their complementary refreshment the rest of us file off and stock up for what might be a 3 or 4 hour wait.

Finally we are coming to our destination it’s been a long day, we pass a religious shrine, and the driver touches his forehead in a Hindu sign of recognition of the gods during the journey. A reminder for me to thank God for another eventful, very late but safe journey.

2007-10-31T03:40:00.001-07:00

A single grain of rice.

When rice is your staple diet, eaten twice a day 365 days a year then growing, caring, harvesting and storing are about the most important tasks your will do all year.

Planting in June involves the whole community of woman often for several days. Stepping back in a long line they plant one at a time the little shoots that have been nurtured nearby.

Then after several months of caring which includes the management of water to each of the terraces one at a time cutting takes place in October. This again is by hand, great bunches are left in the open ground to dry.

After a week of drying, in villages all around the country threshing takes place using whatever animals are available.

Then after further drying in the warm autumn sunshine
the rice is stored in the large hand made pots with secure lid. As the winter progresses a hole is made at the bottom of each pot in turn and rice retrieved for the family meal.

2007-10-31T03:38:00.001-07:00

For most people in the villages all over Nepal the staple diet is rice and vegetables called Dal bhat. This is eaten twice a day, around 10am and 8pm. However if there is a stream running near your home there is the chance to vary your diet with a little fish.
The first picture shows a young woman in the early morning checking her net which has been out all night. You can see the straw box to carry the fish home.

She then sorts the fish into large and small squeezing out the guts of the bigger ones with her thumb and first finger.

They are then cooked over the slow fire, or dried and stored.

She is lucky, in several high parts of the country they cannot grow enough food or catch enough fish to last through the winter. Here people relay on helicopter flights to bring in bags of rice from other parts of the country.

When you sit down to eat today be thankful for all you have on your table.

2007-10-23T09:34:00.001-07:00

Holy Men of Kathmandu.
A common sight around Temples and sometimes around homes and business begging with their little tins, mostly for some rice although money would not be refused.
They will also give a Tika blessing on the forehead if requested. In the picture they are sitting in the shade of one of the many temples. Sometimes caught off guard they have been seen talking on a mobile phone.Life is busy when you are a holy man.

2007-10-15T04:47:00.000-07:00

At a recent candle lighting ceremony to mark International Peace Day in Kathmandu this young girl joined in. With the recent postponement of elections, and fractures opening between the political parties what future for the children of Nepal?

Joe Campbell

Conflict Transformation Advisor
United Mission to Nepal
Tel. 4228118

2007-10-15T04:45:00.001-07:00

This is De Pak he is 15 years old and is on the staff of a small hostel over in the far west of Nepal.

He does all the shopping and cooking, carries water for guests to wash, and for his cooking on the wood stove from the nearby river. In addition to keeping the place clean and in good repair.

He has a wonderful smile and will always help with whatever a guest will need.

Sadly De Pak never had the opportunity to go to school.

Like many children and young people living in remote areas of the country he had to earn some money just to keep food in the pot and clothes on his back.

Soon there will be a road into his village and this will open up more opportunities for people to work but also to visit. But for the next year or more its still a walk for 2 hours at the end of a 12 hour drive over very rough but beautiful country.
Thanks De Pak

2007-10-09T05:56:00.000-07:00

I stayed in Pragarti's home while I worked in the far west of Nepal last week.

Pragarti is 13 years old. She goes to school 6 days at 6am and is home at 12noon. Then some younger children attend the same school. Pragarti enjoys school and in two years time she will have to go to boarding school.

The first picture shows her helping to cook a chicken for last Saturdays dinner. She is holding the head over the wood fire to get all the blood out. Her dad is holding the plucked bird to dry it out before it is chopped up and put into a cooking pot with onions. This is a special treat as normally Pragarti eats rice and veg. twice a day, every day. No treats in-between.

She is carrying her brother outside and up the external stairs to bed.

Here she is in church. The verse behind is John 3 V16.

Last Saturday in her church as well as giving money I noticed some people were handing in little plastic bags of fruit, they had picked from the tree on their land. This was instead of money as an offering to God. They just did not have any money to give. The fruit was given to even poorer people in the village by the church leaders.

Another picture shows her sitting bare foot on the floor eating her rice with her hands, which is what happens in Nepal.

Toilet is outside, and because she lives way up a wooded hillside they have piped water into the bathroom. Cold water all the time, never hot water.

All the water in the house for cooking is carried into the house in buckets. Outside at the hose the dishes are washed.

Pragarti has not had electricity in her home since August, as the heavy rain caused a landslide and the electricity supply was knocked out. Last week it was almost repaired then two more days of heavy rain caused another break.

In her house there is no glass in the windows, just wooden shutters.

This is a happy and fairly rich home in her village.

The view from her house overlooking the village.

The plane lands on the grassy strip. 15 seats usually all taken. It can be a little wobbly but on the flight back to Kathmandu the views of the Himalayas were stunning.

2007-06-12T01:17:00.000-07:00

Its almost monsoon time which means the rice crop needs to be planted. This group of village woman do the morning to nightfall backbreaking job together. In a few short months they will be harvesting and taking it to the nearby ricemill.

2007-04-09T09:05:00.000-07:00

When you live in the high Himalayas then everything has to be carried in one way or another. On a recent trek in the Annapurna range we met long trains of yaks and donkeys, and porters all carrying heavy loads for the essentials of life. Rice, sugar, kerosene, coffee, tea, building materials. These porters are carrying the basics for a solar water heating system as well as a roofing and water saving tanks. We also met a son carrying his elderly mother on what was a 6 day journey to a Holy Hindu shrine high in the mountains she wanted to visit before her death.

2007-03-06T12:57:00.000-08:00

A simple act of partnership.

Giving blood to replenish the supplies in a local hospital is a simple little act but may will mean life for someone.
Within a few days a Nepali national will have my blood pumping around their body.

2007-02-25T08:13:00.000-08:00

So you want to get married. Try this.
This is the wedding season in Nepal, chosen by religious leaders depending on star constellations as the most auspicious time for a long and happy married life. The celebrations are spread over several days, always involving a local wedding band, with both brides and grooms families hosting a party at home, and a street parade between homes with guests walking or driving behind the band. No tin cans tied to the wedding car, those are real flowers.
The band regularly entertains our neighbourhood since their practice hall is quite close.

2007-01-10T09:35:00.000-08:00

One of the big challenges while travelling in Nepal these days is avoiding the wildcat strikes and blockages. Often called at a few hours notice or less for various reasons but almost always political these can block roads for a few hours to a few days and play havoc with peoples plans especially the traveller.
Getting to the airport 4 miles away while all other transport is halted these two resorted to a rickshaw. Clean and green if hard work for the rider the rickshaw comes into its own when all else fails.

2006-12-24T10:19:00.000-08:00

Paper making is over 1000 years old in Nepal. This little "factory" process the bark of the Daphne Bush grown in the mountains at over 8000ft. into beautiful sheets of soft natural
paper. The process like most craft activities in Nepal is labour intensive but uses all natural materials including leaving each sheet to dry in the warm sun for an hour.

A different sort of harvest---paper

From tree bark to paper
Skilled and labour intensive

2006-12-17T07:52:00.000-08:00

A bustling scene in Patan Durbar Square on a Saturday morning. Patan is one of the three cities that make up the Kathmandu Valley. Famed for its Buddhist Temples and Royal Palace, Durbar Square is an UNESCO World Heritage site. Patan was an independent city until 1768 now it is separated from Kathmandu by the Bagmati River.

2006-11-28T01:57:00.000-08:00

Sacred Cow and Calf

As most people know the cow is a sacred holy animal in the Hindu faith. It is not eaten nor are its products sold or eaten. In Kathmandu it is not at all unusual to see several wondering the footpaths and streets. Even at one of the busiest junctions in the city they will have "right of way". There will be no road rage, no shooing them off, cars and bikes will simply get around them. If your accident involves one of these animals you are in big trouble. The fruit market in the background of this picture and all other city users simply have to share the city with the Sacred cow.

2006-11-11T13:31:00.000-08:00

Title: Our Turn Now.

These two young boys enjoy a day off school playing cards in the sunshine. Only some 60% of Nepali children go to school and the figure drops even more after they reach 11 years old. There are several reasons for this :some schools in villages around the country have been closed because of the violence over the past 10 years, education is not entirely free and the cost is another factor which keeps children at home. However the biggest factor is the need to work in the fields to feed the family. This highly labour intensive terrace farming is for many the only way to put food on the table. In small remote villages with no electricity or running water every help available is welcome.
The peace agreement signed this week between the seven political parties and the Maoists insurgents will, if fully implemented by all sides ,bring new opportunities for children and youth around the country

2006-11-04T11:01:00.000-08:00

Rice Harvest in Bhaktapur, one of the oldest cities in Nepal.

By hand the rice has been planted, grown, ripened, cut, gathered,beaten and winnowed as a community or extended family activity from fields nearby. Here we see the grain being turned over to dry in the hot autumn sun. Then it will be stored in hessian sacks for next years food supply. Nepalese people eat rice at least twice a day usually with lentils and vegetables.

2006-10-27T02:10:00.000-07:00

Getting a helping Hand.

Nepal is one of the poorest countries in the world, with large numbers of people living on the edge of life. There are many projects designed to work and give hope to these people. We have visited several so far here are two that impressed us.

Have you ever wondered where those little necklaces and bangles are made? We found one such place, Hosanna is a house made into a small workshop for some 15 woman all single mothers with no other means of support. Really nice high quality work here with contracts all over the world ordering these fashionable items to be sold through churches and fair trade craft shops.

Next we visited a project for low caste people cured of leprosy. This leather workshop has really nice bags, purses and wallets, I was especially interested in bags with a covering made from nettles, and some note books whose paper comes from trees growing at an altitude over 8,000ft. We bought a wall hanging for our home extolling old age??

2006-10-20T09:10:00.000-07:00

Dogs are special today.

Today was the annual anniversary when dogs received the special Hindu blessing because in this week the festival of Tihar is celebrated. Dogs are given a garland, paws and forehead carefully coloured with a red/yellow powder .The ceremony is called Tika. By performing this special service to the lowly dog Hindus worship Laxmi, Goddess of Wealth. Yesterday it was the crow, no garland just special food left out on the roads for the hungry bird. Tomorrow it is the sacred cow.
Also having special attention at this time are brothers and the family money box. By next Wednesday the special holiday / festival will have ended and the routine of work will resume. But for now dogs should enjoy their day.

2006-10-16T12:43:00.000-07:00

Strumming up Business.
It looks like a stringed instrument, sounds like a one stringed harp, but has nothing to do with music. It’s actually played a lot this time of year and the noise is a timely reminder to people of the coming winter and the need for freshly sown quilts for bedding.
He simply walks around a neighbourhood usually early morning strumming the cotton stretched along the instrument keeping it well stretched. The noise carrying a long way will alert people to his presence and hopefully an order for a new quilt made either up on their flat roof or back at his little workshop. That same cotton is used in the making. The results are beautifully coloured masterpieces.
Long may he strum.

2006-10-10T00:00:00.000-07:00

A Real Happy Birthday
While walking through an area of Kathmandu we stepped aside and sat on some steps while a local parade passed. A little girl of about 6 lead a male flute and drum band followed by 30 females all dressed the same tossing rice from brass plates. Between them an old man was carried by 4 younger men in a sort of suitably decorated sedan chair, then about 60 other men all walking behind the parade. We found out that this tradition is to celebrate his birthday. He was 77 years, 7 months, and 7 days old. Likely there was a Hindu celebration on the 7th hour at home. The little girl was the youngest member of the family and had the honour of leading. Similar celebrations are held at 84 years and 91. Since life expectancy in Nepal is around 63 the old man deserves all the adulation he got on Monday. Happy Birthday

2006-10-01T06:13:00.000-07:00

All of our hot water is from solar heat. Last week we had two pretty dull days so it was cool showers, but on warm days we have hot water to spare. Most homes in Kathmandu have solar panels and it seems like this country is way ahead in using green energy than any we have lived in or visited before. We are told that even in remote villages small micro solar units are used for light. Sometimes micro hydro units are dropped into nearby rivers to give power to groups of homes. This technology is vital for a country whose terrain makes traditional landlines just impossible

2006-09-26T07:33:00.000-07:00

Setting up home is a whole new challenge for us. Everything has to be bought, mostly new including this furniture. Made from bamboo it is strong yet light and comfortable. The delivery on Friday by bicycle just shows what an amazing versitile machine the bike is, and the determination of those who earn their living peddling them around this beautiful city of Kathmandu.

2006-09-10T00:53:00.000-07:00

We live by the sea and have done for many years, but now we are heading for Nepal, land locked country of high and beautiful mountains. No sailing for 4 years. No more call of the gulls and smell of the salt surf crashing on the rocky shore. This adventure is tinged with challenge, excitement and sadness. Leaving is always hard, letting go needs to happen for the new to begin.
St. Brendan the Celtic Pilgrim had a great leaving prayer as he left the west coast of Ireland in a small boat adventuring with God. Today it means a lot to me.

Shall I abandon O King of mysteries the soft comforts of home? Shall I turn my back on my native land and my face towards the sea? Shall I put myself wholly at the mercy of God, without silver, without horse, without fame and honour? Shall I throw myself wholly on the King of Kings, without sword and shield, without food and drink, without a bed to lie on? Shall I say farewell to my beautiful land, placing myself under Christ's yoke? Shall I pour out my heart to Him, confessing my manifold sins and begging forgiveness tears streaming down my face? Shall I leave the prints of my knees on the sandy beach a record of my final prayer in my native land? Shall I then suffer every kind of wound the sea can inflict? Shall I take my tiny coracle across the wide sparkling sea? O King of glorious heaven shall I go of my own choice upon the sea? O Christ will you help me in the wild waves?