Mountains, Momos & Chipatis

Remembering Michael Blakey

2007-03-06T09:37:00.000-08:00

Introduction

Michael Blakey led an extraordinary life as a humanitarian development worker for the nonprofit Tong-Len. As one of the organization’s co-founders, he dedicated his time in northern India to empowering a poor slum community, located in a valley beneath the Himalayan foothills. At only 23 years of age, his passion for international development had already carried him across the globe to Uganda, Nepal, and India; far from his friends and family back in England, of whom he spoke dearly. Ironically, he wasn’t particularly fond of traveling, yet Michael seemed to gravitate towards the people with the greatest need. He found them in the slum of Charan, where he worked tirelessly to provide the people with the tools to improve their quality of life.

I knew Michael as a friend and colleague for only a short seven months while volunteering for Tong-Len as a maths and English teacher. During that brief time I observed his extraordinary impact on those around him. The people of Charan loved him as a member of their own family. Everyone relished his wonderfully dry sense of humor, which never seemed to falter even under the most challenging circumstances. His devotion to work was seemingly endless. Anyone who worked alongside him learned volumes from his profound understanding of effective development methods. “Michael was an inspiration to as all” (Anna Owen, Tong-Len Charity Director and fellow board member).

In December of 2006, Michael’s life was taken outside St. John’s Church in Dharamsala, India. Countless lives suffer in his absence; perhaps even millions will never experience the services he would have offered to the poor. To this day, his presence remains strong in the memory of those who knew him. But in Michael’s own words, “To think what could have been is a dangerous thing; it helps no one.” While it is impossible to find any sense in such a pointless, heartbreaking loss, the example Michael set during his brief yet powerful time on this Earth can continue in his absence.

The entry below documents just a few accounts of my experiences working alongside Michael, with contributions from some of his friends. At some point I would like to compile a more complete record of his work and his ideologies, but for now, I hope this brief snapshot of his time in India can serve as a small tribute to our dear friend and colleague.

Anecdotes

If asked about the circumstances surrounding his untimely passing, Michael Blakey would likely describe them as "completely nutters." He was (among many other things) a master of witty British colloquialisms, a quality that will always live on amongst his friends. He taught us a great deal about British vernacular, from duff (rubbish, useless) to ice lollies (popsicle), along with a few racy phrases that he taught us solely out of the concern that we might embarrass ourselves by unknowingly uttering them at an inappropriate time.

Michael always looked out for the well being of his friends and colleagues. More than a few times in India, I came down with particularly nasty cases of fever and diarrhea. Without fail, he always stopped by my disease-ridden room to check if I needed anything. He was deeply compassionate, though not very sentimental. If you needed medicine he’d hike down the mountain to find it for you, but if you wanted a hug it was best to look elsewhere. He had a very matter-of-fact approach to his work. It wasn’t his nature to cry over sick children living in poverty, or mourn a dying goat (more on that later), but he did do everything he could to help them with near-superhuman dedication.

In a typical week, Michael made daily visits down to a slum village in a valley of the Himalayan foothills, where he met with community leaders, assisted with the medical clinic, conducted research and vaccinated wild dogs for scabies. The commute entailed an hour jeep ride down winding mountain roads that emptied all but the heartiest stomachs. He regularly met with Indian government officials to provide voting rights and clean running water for the poor. On weekends he traveled across the hills and plains of northern India, riding on the back of a motorbike with a Tibetan monk, to visit slum communities and assess their needs. During what little spare time remained, he analyzed research on his laptop from the relative comfort of his chilly room in a monastery.

Somehow after all this, Michael still had time to kick back with his pals, catch the latest Bollywood film, share a meal of chipatis and vegetable korma and deliver rehydration salts to his colleague with recurring diarrhea. He was a reliable friend to all of us at Tong-Len.

If you found yourself in a conversation with Michael, or happened to be listening in on one, it was sure to be an enlightening – and entertaining – experience. He had opinions on just about everything, plenty of knowledge to back up his belief, and a dry sense of humor that seasoned his delivery with just the right amount of sarcasm. He didn’t see eye to eye with everybody all the time, and thank God for that - a disagreement with Michael surely followed with a lively (and always amiable) debate, chock full of educational tidbits. And most folks usually admit that if you thought Michael was wrong, you almost certainly discovered, sooner or later, that he was actually right. He was always easy going and good-natured about it, too, he never came across as arrogant or a know-it-all; though some would argue that he did, literally, “know it all.”

Personally, I never debated with Michael on much of anything, except on the really important topics – say, for example, which film adaptations of comic books best capture the essence of the hero/heroine. Instead, I threw questions and ideas at him, then listened (I wish I remembered more of those conversation – I learned so much from them). He taught me a great deal about sustainable development, and how he felt it should apply to our work in the slum. The term “sustainable development” has multiple uses, but we referred to the process of creating projects that “sustain” themselves independently, in other words, the project can run on its own with a minimal dependency on continual investment of resources (funding, human resources, and/or natural resources).

Michael and I were usually on the same page. We both admitted – perhaps with a hint of pride - to being “geeks,” as evidenced by our lengthy conversations about statistical methods and research (in our free time, no less). We discussed the merits of Amartya Sen, the Nobel Prize winning economist, versus Paul Farmer, the medical anthropologist (if you want to know more about what Michael stood for, read Amartya Sen. Michael respected Paul Farmer’s passion for helping the poor, but didn’t always agree with his methods), and we generally agreed on which actors best portrayed James Bond, Batman, and Doctor Who. We shared stories from our experiences in Uganda, where – coincidentally - we both volunteered (I helped build a brick house, while he did research for the King of Uganda and presented his findings on national television). Although I didn’t share his passion for Indian cinema to quite the same degree, I – along with the rest of the Tong-Len crew – fell in love with the musical antics of Bollywood superstars Shah Rukh Kahn and Preity Zinta. Nary a day went by when someone didn’t belt out one of the many memorable jingles from Kal Hoo Na Ho (Tomorrow may Never Come). On the evening of Diwali, the Festival of Lights, Michael, our friend Runa, and I sang some true-to-life renditions of hit Bollywood songs, accompanied by their guitars and the boom-crackle of fireworks overhead.

The children from Charan claimed Michael looked like Krrish, the Bollywood superhero. Michael expressed his bewilderment by this – “How could they think a skinny Englishman with glasses looks anything like a six foot, two hundred pound Indian superhero? It must be the long face and curly hair, I just don’t get it…” He admitted to being a bit flattered by the comparison. It's likely the kids saw him as a superhero, sans cape, mask and muscles. He did, after all, have the super powers of speaking Hindi; providing clean water, medicine, and education. Meanwhile, he and his colleagues all agreed he looked more like David Tennant, the actor who plays Doctor Who the actor who plays Doctor Who - the wily scientist who travels through time in a phone booth. But just as fact is always more fascinating than fiction, Michael had an even more unusual method of transportation.

I never saw Michael and Jamyang on the motorcycle together, driving cross-country to research other impoverished communities where Tong-Len could be of aid, but I hear they were quite an unusual sight. A monk on a motorcycle, red robes whipping in the wind, would be one thing; Michael’s tall frame hanging off the back seat is quite another. “I can’t imagine what these people must be thinking,” he mused, “when they see a Tibetan monk and lanky Brit drive up to their village on a motorcycle to talk to them.”

Tong-Len’s first founder, a Tibetan monk who relinquished monastic duty for service to the Indian poor, had tremendous respect for Michael and his hard work. Michael in turn held Jamyang in the highest regard, and always spoke fondly of his Tibetan counterpart. They worked together in Charan almost daily, on projects ranging from providing clean water and ration cards to better medical care and voting rights (families in Charan were denied suffrage as they came from outside states, notably Rajastan and Maharastra). Much of their work took them to various government officials, who responded with varying degrees of respect, compliance, or rejection. But despite the gravity of their work, they never took themselves too seriously, and took every opportunity to make fun of each other, or trick new volunteers with absurd stories. Amy recalled the time Jamyang yawned during a meeting, to which Michael teased, “So, Jamyang, late night last night with the ladies?” The first times I met them, they fooled me with some yarn about meeting the Indian Prime Minister. After a few moments of amazement and disbelief, Jamyang queued me in, “…Ha ha, just joking,” to which Michael added, “Watch out for that Jamyang! He’s full of stories.”

Michael’s sense of humor, unlike India during the monsoon, was dry, funny, and very British. He kept everyone around him laughing, even during the bleakest scenarios. Amy recalled their time working together in the medical clinic: While she was bandaging wounds, Michael would lean over to the patient and quietly say in Hindi, “Looks like we’re going to have to cut off that limb…” For just a moment, the patient’s face would sink into a grim expression, only to erupt into laughter the moment they noticed Michael smiling. He poked fun of all of us without ever belittling anyone, and we returned the same. I repeatedly tried to mimic his accent, but I never did get it quite right; he always informed me that my attempts resemble the wrong region of England. I think our most heated discussion was over whether or not a certain document should be organized in a chart or paragraphs; he adamantly defended the “organized, British way of keeping things neat and organized in little boxes,” versus my “barbaric American methods.” Of course, he was right. The boxes won, and the Tong-Len curriculum remains neatly organized to this day. This was the first of many lessons I would learn about development work.

Namaste, namaste, namaste from Charan

2006-12-14T07:54:00.000-08:00

Today was my last day in Charan. Was a pretty challenging morning, walking down to the camp knowing that this would be the last time I see the kids. I arrived early so I sat up on the road looking down on those black tents, pondering everything that's happened around this little community and how it has impacted me. Part of me wanted to turn around and go back so I wouldn't have to say so many stupid good byes. I hate good byes.

Three army trucks rumbled past, filled with soldiers wearing camoflage and turbans. They stopped at the tail end of what looked to be a traffic jam at least a kilometer long. At the source of the congestion, two trucks faced each other head on, locked in a standstill in the middle of a single lane bridge (the other lane under construction). Behind each of the stubborn vehicles, an endless line of drivers waited patiently with blank expressions on their faces, as if this was a regular occurance. The absurdity of the situation cheered me up enough to walk to the school tent and get things rolling.

Ritu, one of my more advanced students, taught a simple lesson to the younger children. "Excellent," she praised her peers for answering a question correctly. I chuckled with pride; I taught her to say that. Ritu completed her lesson to applause from the other students (they are incredibly supportive of each other). Most of the day I had the older children take on teaching roles while I gave cueues from the sidelines. Foreign volunteers don't stick around forever, but a local community Pradhan (chief) can work wonders. I know some of the students will become teachers and leaders in Charan. Others may even take larger leadership roles within the government, if their low caste status doesn't hold them down.

After class we played a game - they made sure I won. I attempted to say some words of inspiration, thanked them for being such great students, then began my long, sad walk out of the camp. It's hard not to feel a bit choked up with three kids hanging on to my shins asking me not to leave, with another hanging onto my arm (quite good exercise, lifting kids), and a fifth trying to lift me off the ground. I should point out that the children are extremely well behaved (well, most of the time) during class; such shenanigans are not permitted until after learning time stops. I've had to do my share of scolding, too, but right then and there I felt far to warm and fuzzy to do anything but smile and laugh. Blasted kids... Leave it to them to make a softy out of me!

Along the way a gaggle of 12 year old girls (also my charming students) surrounded me and wouldn't let me leave unless I gave them my phone number in the US, even though none of them have phones and if they did they couldn't afford the long distance fees. I wish women my age fought so fiercely to get my number. Just kidding.

Kashmiri Lal, one of the community leaders, came along to say goodbye. He held his baby son in the crook of his elbow while he shook my hand with both of his. "Tell your family we wish them namaste, namaste, namaste, very much."

My boggled mind can hardly comprehend how wonderful some of the people are. They have nothing and yet they are so happy, so sincere, and so giving of themselves. Little Ajay, who shines shoes for ten cents a day, offers me his crackers; meanwhile his neighbors, who collect rubbish for less than ten cents a day, want to make me chai and cook me dinner. Half of the little ones have one parent (or none), work all day, but still show up for school with big smiles, bubbling energy and impeccable (well, most of the time) manners. To be fair, there are some unfortunate cases of alcholism, domestic abuse, and, well... Obviously there's a lot of room for improvement, but there's no harm in focusing on the positives once in a while.

I will miss Charan. Almost everything about it.

A typical day...

2006-12-12T04:24:00.000-08:00

This is where I eat breakfast.

This is where I buy ammo.

...and this is where I go to the gym. That's me on the left, as you can see I've put on some muscle (bonus points if you can find the secret dog).

Worth remembering.

2006-12-11T05:08:00.000-08:00

"Developing countries have done the least to contribute to climate change and will be the first to face it."
-United Nations Framework on Climate Change document

Blue Sikh

2006-12-09T05:53:00.000-08:00

By now you must be "Sikh" of reading about my trip to Amritsar. Har har...

But seriously, I felt a lot of sincere generosity there. Usually when strangers approach me in India they want to sell me something or ask for food/money/photo, but in Amritsar folks said 'hello' solely for the sake of friendly conversation (mind, this is not to say there aren't plenty of sincere & generous folks elsewhere in India). And all that tasty food at the Golden Temple, just given away for free! I didn't even have to wash my own dish!

Speaking of generosity, I would have left India some time ago if not for the hospitality of the folks from the Charan slum (I hate calling it a "slum." What an awful word - "slum" sounds like something that gets gummed up in a drainpipe. The term accurately describes the difficult living conditions, but does no justice to the quality of the inhabitants). Times have been a bit rough as of late (more on that later), but it's those cheeky kids and their surprisingly cheerful families that keep me around.

So shiny!

2006-12-08T05:45:00.000-08:00

Golden temple, Amritsar, at midday. Each day tens of thousands of Sikhs travel to and around its shiny splendor. The temple itself houses the Sikh holy book, a massive tome, from which passages are sung (quite beautifully, accompanied by drums) over speakers. I spent may a day walking around the perimeter, enjoying the soothing tunes and upbeat beats echoing across the holy water.

Hospitality of the Sikhs

2006-12-04T22:36:00.000-08:00

Finally skipped town for a much needed change of scenery. Visiting the Golden Temple in Amritsar, Punjab, near the Pakistan border. This is the most holy place for Sikhs, where tens of thousands of pilgrims travel daily.

Sikhs are known for their colorful turbans, impressive beards, and the occasional saber - long swords are sheathed at the side, shorter daggers are tucked into the turban. Based on my limited knowledge, there are similarities to both Hinduism and Islam in architecture and style of worship, along with some key differences. The Sikhs' disregard for the caste system, their belief in equality between kings and beggars, sets them apart from Hinduism. They have a grisly history of conflict with their Hindu and Muslim neighbors, portrayed in rows of grim paintings lining the walls of the local museum.

'Been enjoying free meals and residency at the Temple. Hospitality here is incredible. 60,000 visitors are fed delicious vegetarian meals each day, free of charge. I entered the massive dining hall, recieved my plate and watched with amazement at the clockwork system that feeds so many mouths. Everyone sits in long lines, servers move down each line with buckets of rice, dal, and chipatis, filling each plate as they pass. As each row finishes their meals, a massive squeegee is pushed down the line, mopping up spills, leaving the marble floor sparkling. Amy was hear a few months back for a friend's wedding; for more details be sure to read her entry.

Last night another westerner brought some birthday cake to the temple dormitory. He offered some to the Sikh guard, who strode up to him, gave him a stout hug and wished him "Happy Birthday." He turned down a spoon, favoring instead a foot long curved dagger that he unveiled from his robe. He proceeded to eat the cake with it, crumbs falling into his long white beard.

Will post photos once I get back to McLeod Ganj.

Travel safe, Amy-La

2006-12-03T07:48:00.000-08:00

Resting by a Shiva shrine.

After a busy day of long goodbyes and parting cups of chai, Nurse Amy-La (as she is called by her Tibetan patients) left for Boston today in the good company of some Tong-Len volunteers. The Indian mother with the bandaged leg, the old guru with an uncomfortable itch, the Tibetan nuns with high blood pressure, the boy with Polio and everyone else in between including me, have all been healed by her strict regimen of medical care and sillyness. Kashmiri Law, gentleman of Charan, told her today, "I like you, you know how to laugh. We will miss you," followed by the question everyone always asks,

"...when will you come back?"

Horse.

2006-12-01T08:05:00.000-08:00

Tibetan Craftswomen at Work

2006-11-24T04:44:00.000-08:00

For the Tibetan refugee community here in India, jobs are not easy to come by, but thankfully a few business models have been extremely successful. Two that stand out above the rest are the Glass Beads Workshop and the Women's Handicraft Center, both staffed by local Tibetan Women. The quality of their craftswomanship is without peer.

I found out about the Glass Beads Workshop through its manager, Kalden, a hardy Tibetan with a big heart and brains to match. When Amy and I were camping up in the mountains, he lent us one of his tents, without which we would have been quite chilly. He also belted out some haughty Tibetan nomadic tunes, much to the enjoyment of our ears.

When he's not leading treks into the mountains, Kalden manages the Beads Workshop, where he reads stories of Tibetan Freedom Fighters to his employees and encourages them to drink enough water (and not too much butter tea). In his spare time he organizes clean up crews and lectures his neighbors for dumping trash in the wilderness.

It felt gender-imbalanced to see a dozen women under the management of one man, but Kalden seems a fair and effective leader. The employees seem happy and motivated; their workplace is airy, clean, safe and spacious. Some women torch colored ceramic rods, melting them under intense heat to mold them into iridescent swirls. Others, on break, look after their children. The beads they create resemble some exotic ocean dweller, and fetch a hefty price to match their beauty. The women here make more money in a day than some medical professionals, though that isn't saying much; a Tibetan nurse can make as little as 60 rupees ($1.50) a day - about how much I spend on dinner.

Elsewhere in town, The Women's Handicraft Center showcases the softest, thickest rugs ever I did see, each with matting as heavy as a Yak's shaggy bottom and colors as rich as a freshly washed monk's robe. Such luxurious comfort comes at a hefty price, but worth every rupee. I've heard such rugs can last a century without losing their luster.

Amy meets the Dalai Lama, and other news

2006-11-22T20:02:00.000-08:00

http://amysears.blogspot.com/2006/11/his-holiness-dalai-lama.html
Definitely worth reading!

In other recent news:

Chinese president Hu Juntao made a visit to India. The Tibetan community protested his visit both locally and in Delhi, where thousands gathered to speak out for Tibetan independence. During his visit Juntao reminded the Indian goverment that a large section of Northeast India "belongs to China," aggravating a long-standing border dispute.

Local champion of Tibetan independence Tenzin Tsundue was under house arrest during Juntao's visit. Surrounded by Indian police at all times, he cannot leave McLeod Ganj. Apparently the Indian Government doesn't want him causing any trouble while Juntao is around, but most see this as a blatant violation of Tsundue's rights. When I saw Tsundue with his chaperones - five hulking Indian policemen, each nearly twice his size, bearing large bellies and long mustaches - they seemed to have built a friendly rapport, joking with one another and enjoying seemingly benign conversation.

Just over a month ago, families of Tibetans were fired upon by Chinese soldiers as they attempted to flee across the Himalayas. Several were killed by gunfire. A group of trekkers, who captured the incident on film, risked imprisonment (or worse) by hiding some of the Tibetans in their camp. Based on the many accounts I've heard, this is a common scenario for anyone trying to escape China.

Where does a worm live?

2006-11-13T21:52:00.000-08:00

During a lesson on the local flora and fauna, I asked my students, "Where does a spider live?" Staring at the picture I held up of a large tarantula, little Pooja replied in Hindi, "In my house!" Later I held up a picture of an earthworm and asked, "Where does a worm live?" Four children, in unison, pointed to their stomach.

Nunastic lifestyle

2006-10-29T00:17:00.000-07:00

Life has been most agreeable as of late. I just moved to the Nunnery guest house, in a cozy room with many windows and hot water. Not to worry, I've not become a nun, this would require far too many disagreeable lifestyle (and gender) changes for my liking. I wake up every morning to the pleasant clang of gongs, and I drift asleep to the droning chants of three dozen red robed nuns outside my window.

A brush with the Dalai Lama

2006-10-28T05:22:00.001-07:00

A few months back when this woman sobbed, "I saw His Holiness! It was so moving, I can't help but cry," I thought to myself, "Oh good grief. I know he's an incredible spiritual being, but seriously, all he did was drive by you in a car."

I woke up early last week and stumbled upon rows upon rows of Tibetans lining the street, waiting. It became clear that the Dalai Lama would be passing by, so I joined them, just to see what the fuss was about. Along he came, riding in the passenger seat of an old white car. For just a few moments, I caught a clear glimpse of his long oval head adorned with his thick glasses. I felt rather choked up, along with a pleasant sense of awe.

Happy Diwali!!!

2006-10-24T08:59:00.000-07:00

Celebrated Diwali, the Indian Festival of Lights, this past weekend. Everyone lights candles, hangs colorful decor, eats sweet snacks, dances the night away, and ignites the town ablaze with the most amazing rural fireworks performance imaginable. I love India - the lack of strict regulation makes anything possible! Today, for example, I didn't fit on the bus so I clambered onto the roof of the thing, all the while ducking to avoid tree branches and electric wires. Nobody seemed to care as long as I paid my fare.

So, back to Diwali, and the lack of regulations: Fireworks are sold freely, of all magnificent shapes and sizes, to all ages. Eight year old Tibetan kiddies stand on the road setting off glass-shattering explosions that terrify every dog in a five mile radius. At night, looking down into the valley, one can see a dozen rockets shooting into the sky at any given time, many of them exploding into brilliant blossoms of color. Which so much poverty, I can't imagine how folks afford such a festival; even the children of Charan had bags of firecrackers (though they were likely purchased by a tourist). It's interesting (and often nice) to live in a community that values celebration over whatever difficult living conditions one must face.

Cheers!

Return to India

2006-10-05T04:10:00.000-07:00

After a restful and festive vacation back home in Boston, I arrived back in McLeod Ganj this morning. Amy waited two hours (my bus was late) to greet me - what a treat, to see a dear friend after such a long journey!

Some highlights of my month back home: Jeff and Nicole's wedding, of course! Jeff and Nicole's big yummy Greek dinner; playing videogames with Jon and Tim; going on runs through Medford with Ulandt, Pauline, Andy and Luke; visiting art galleries with Mom and Boon; Mary's fundraiser wine tasting event; hanging out with super-cool chica C-roo; rubbing Guski's bald noggin' for good luck; the list goes on and on...

And so, after a bit of catching up and re-acclamating myself, it'll be back to work! KWEH!

Alive and well

2006-08-17T13:16:00.000-07:00

I'm back in the US and not dead! Actually I'm perfectly alive and intact. More details to come.

Last Reflections

2006-08-11T22:10:00.000-07:00

View from Sophie's balcony

This morning I ran to the nearest waterfall, clambered over slippery rocks, stood just a few feet from the roaring cascade. Drenched in spray, acutely aware not to slip into the churning water, completely out of breath from the stone path sprint up the valley, I thought, "Now, I can go."

Tomorrow night I leave for home. This place has left deep impressions in me. I've had beautiful days, challenging days, and some days were totally for the birds. Dear friends, both new and old, have come and gone; some still remain and continue to do wonderful work. I've seen suffering as I could never imagine, felt joy, horror, amazement and peace as I've never experienced. I've been rained on, hit on, swindled, bitten, smitten and smothered with cheese.

My work here, I believe, has some sustainable positive impact. This is the greatest treat I could possibly receive from this journey, and I'm extremely thankful. I hope to come back soon!

Okay... I made up the part about the cheese. But it could happen.

Goodbye, monsoon mold

2006-08-10T03:45:00.000-07:00

It's been raining so much, every wood object in the known universe (as far as I can tell) has mold growing on it. Not just innocent penicillin Wonder Bread mold; this is some serious creep into your bed and eat you while you sleep Swamp Thing mold. Gross.

I'm hoping to wrap things up before I head back to the US in a few days. Not quite sure how I feel about that. Funny, I came all the way to India, yet this will be the first time in 6 months that I leave my little 3-mile-radius pocket in the mountains I have come to know as home.

The value of introspection

2006-08-01T02:25:00.000-07:00

Hand-painted Tibetan temple, under construction. Order now for just nine easy monthly installments! Bottom right: Three locals in a congo line.

MMm nyum nyumm... Nothing like a hearty piece of Tibetan brown bread with mystery jam (possibly lychee?)! So what else is new, you ask? Well, I've learned how important it is (for me, at least) to run and moo-ditate. Why, you ask?

Well, a hearty jog is a chance to practice living in the moment, to focus on one's breath. Air goes in the nose and out, trees and monkeys pass to the right, mountains and slugs to the left; observing the sunlight filtering through British pines (yup, trees from the British Empire with no natural predator that have since flourished) and every other fine detail taking place right here and now.

And moo-ditation? A fine opportunity for instrospection, again to focus on the breath; to patiently observe, without judgement, whatever thoughts bubble up - sometimes irrelevant, sometimes deeply profound. Now and then, we may discover that we have some answers locked away to our own problems, we just gotta dig for 'em.

Yup, so that's why I like to run and meditate. It usually works for me, maybe something else works for you. Some folks pray, some consult the magic 8-ball, some seek the sage advice of a wise miniature Buddha, all covered with fur.

All kinds of neat-o keen kindof things goin' on.

2006-07-30T10:34:00.000-07:00

Just a ho-hum arbitrary update on the ups, downs and dangers of Dharamsala. What's new, you ask?

CRAP, i'm only here for 2 more weeks, and there's so much to finish up. On the plus side, when projects come to fruition one finally feels that sense of "Oh boy, this really worked!" Or, "Oh man, that was a huge waste of time!" Fortunately I'm feeling much more of the former (former=first one. I specify because I always get "former" and "latter" confused). More updates on the outcomes of those projects to come soon!

What else what else... WELL, remember how I said "for the birds" to the ten day meditation retreat? Well it seems I've since attained enlightenment via the furry path of Doggism. Last night I spend some evening hours chanting a bit (Om Mani Padme Hum = May all Sentient Beings be Happy) and circumnambulating (fancy name for walking clockwise around) the Temple. Lo and behold, a tiny brown furball shuffles up to me while I'm meditating and plops on my lap (my lap is warm, I guess). I'm like, "Dang, I can't get up, this is a good opportunity to practice still meditation for a long while." So this thing sleeps in my lap for like an hour, having little puppy dreams, growling, yipping and kicking every so subtly. Sad part is I eventually had to leave (my feet fell asleep, quite uncomfortable), but when I walked away the pup came crying after me and sat on my feet. Still I'm sure he or she had a mom somewheres so I gently shoo-ed it and went my way.

What else what else... Lots of neat stuff but no time to write at the moment. So much to do, so much to figure out in so little time! More soon!

Peas

Nurse Amy

2006-07-27T06:25:00.000-07:00

Amy Sears is thriving here in ways I never imagined possible. While most volunteers are leering from culture shock and gastric woes during their first month here, in a few short weeks my dear friend from Boston has already treated scores of patients, from Tibetan nuns and newly arrived refugees (often suffering from a month-long walk across the frozen Himalayas) to Rajastani and Maharastran families in the slum village of Charan.

Debilitating wounds, infections and illnesses among children are, for most, difficult to witness. Even more so when the children are neglected (sometimes left alone for weeks at a time), even more so when nothing is done to heal a gaping wound on a young beggar because it generates more income. It's easy, initially, to feel anger towards parents, but under such harsh impoverished conditions drastic measures are necessary for survival.

It's common to feel dragged down by the horror of scenarios like this one, but Amy has a very uncommon approach to the world. Even the most seemingly grotesque injuries are, in her eyes, simply matters to be dealt with; through disfiguring burns, scars, pus, protruding bone and smarming parasite, she connects with the human beneath the ailment. This, I think, is the key to her successful work, especially with children. Her care heals most patients, but in her presence even an incurable child cannot help but smile (often with a face that has long since forgotten how). She accomplishes all this with such positive energy, vigor, and her characteristically bright (and loud) laughter... One cannot help but feel inspired and uplifted by her work, and by her friendship.

amysears.blogspot.com/

A Tale of Yore, of Stormy Mountains, Good Friends and Dog Vomit

2006-07-21T23:40:00.000-07:00

In honor of friends Colin and Sanhueza, gather 'round for a tale of yore, from a time many full moons past.

Coin, Sanhueza and Kimu set off towards the heights of Mt. Triund. The journey was long, but the friends' good company kept their spirits high, even when they lost their way deep in the Rododendron trees.

At the top of the first peak they encountered a white beast that at first appeared menacing. This long tailed creature gnawed on the hands of any who approached her, but with time they tamed the creature, and soon "Woofer" became their faithful companion.

Farther up the rocky traverse, where the prayer flags whipped in the winds, a storm began to circle in from all sides. Lighting struck in sweeping arcs that began in the West and shot across the sky to the East. Clouds whipped through the air, gathering quickly like crows over carrion.

The four companions retreated to the safety of a rickety wood cabin. The room smelled of smoke and dog, even more so after the Woofer vomited in the middle of the night, but it provided some shelter against the storm. The winds blew open the doors and battered the fragile walls.

Come morn', peace once again returned to the mountain, the chilly crisp air opened weary eyes as the sun's lazy glow barely illuminated a hazy horizon. The wanderers bidded their furry friend good-bye before descending the slopes back to their homes.

Blogspot censored in India

2006-07-20T22:46:00.000-07:00

After the Mumbai train blasts, some bloggers posted some anti-Islamic commentary, described by the Indian government as "extremely derogatory references to Islam and the holy prophet, which had the potential to inflame religious sensitivities in India and create serious law and order problems." The government responded by banning internet access to a number of popular blog sites, including blogspot. I can still write entries in my blog, but I'm unable to read any blogs.

Journalists and bloggers around the world are protesting the ban, claiming it "impeded the flow of information, news and opinions during a time of national crisis." India has a long history of free press, the ban comes an a surprise to many.

Personally, I find derogatory references to any religion particularly distasteful and counterproductive, but when any government impedes freedom of speech I feel a great deal of concern. The Chinese government and the lack of freedom among the Chinese and Tibetan people stand out as a prime example of why government controlled media/press squelches human rights.

Philosophical ramblings

2006-07-19T00:11:00.000-07:00

(Comments welcome, as always)

So... Meditation retreat... Did I say it was ten days? I meant to say four... Yup. Turns out ten hours of meditation is about nine and a half more than I can tolerate.

Don't get me wrong, I have tremendous respect for anyone who can finish all ten days. As for me - attaining Englightenment sounds nice and all, but if it requires long periods of sitting on my arse reflecting on the intracacies of my nostrils, I'm out of luck.

Seriously, Vipassana (based on Gautama Bhudda's approach) seemed pretty amazing. My mind surely benefitted from those four days, and if I wasn't such a wuss I probably would be levatating and shooting lightning bolts if I could have finished all ten. One of the goals is to train your mind to overcome craving and aversion, by experiencing the temporary nature of all things. For example, the pain in my knees, the itch on my ear, the numbness in my back, all of it would have passed with time; Nothing is permanent.

So that got me thinking, about aversion and craving, and whether or not I really need or want to rise above them. This much is true: I have an aversion to large hairy spiders, and when they visit my room I say "I don't like this!" and I feel misery. I have a craving for video games and the beach, and since I don't have those things I say "Waah, I want these things!" and I feel misery. But you know, honestly, I don't mind so much, I feel like occasional cravings and aversions make me human.

Another example: A husband loves his wife. When she is absent, he craves her presence, he feels misery if she is gone for a long time. Is this kind of craving something we should try to overcome?

On the other hand, perhaps aversions and cravings don't bother me so much, because I can attain most of the things I crave and I can avoid most of the things I have an aversion to.

Another example: A hungry child living in an impoverished community craves nourishing food, but her family only has enough money to buy rice and bread a few times a week. She has an aversion to lice and scabies (microscopic itchy skin cooties), but she has no means of avoiding these living in an environment without proper santitation facilities.

In this case, aversion and craving are indeed the cause of great misery. But certainly it would be absurd to expect this girl to meditate so she can overcome aversion and craving.

Well... I have to go and I forgot my point.

Charan Episode VII: Graduation!!!

2006-07-15T00:00:00.000-07:00

Held a graduation ceremony for the kiddos in Charan, with cookies, dancing, storytelling, final exams and all that good stuff you do on the last day of school. They get a three week holiday so the monsoons can roll on through.

Me, I'm off to the hills for a ten day Vipassana meditation retreat. No talking, no moving, a bit of eating and not too much sleeping. Woopie!!! It feels weird looking forward to my vacation when I'm already in India. See you in ten days!

"Keep it quiet back there, Kirna is thinking."

Charan Epiode VI: I'm a father!

2006-07-13T03:49:00.000-07:00

...Not really.

A woman from Charan handed me her baby girl yesterday. Her mother spoke to me, Viru translated: "She's asking if you will keep her baby." I laughed. The tiny girl in my arms let out a sleepy giggle.

"This is her third baby," Viru continued, "She has too many children. You can take her back to the U.S."

For the record, I handed her back to her mother. But for a single moment, I did consider her offer. How weird is that? I must be getting old. Or crazy.

Charan Episode V: Flood

2006-07-11T06:52:00.000-07:00

Ugh... Cancelled class early today when a river of mud poured into the tent. The monsoons have really kicked in, it's awful, just awful, in Charan. I don't usually get all melodramatic about stuff but seriously - when you see class 5 shitwater rapids rising up within a foot of someone's flimsy tent, fierce enough to drown a grown man, you can't help but wonder how anyone can handle such difficult living conditions.

I was interviewed today by someone making a film about education in developing countries. He asked me if I didn't mind standing in the rain, "for dramatic effect." I said "Sure." It was interesting.

Action monk, goat rescue

2006-07-02T07:23:00.000-07:00

Jamyang, Tong-Len's founder and Tibetan monk extrordinaire, held a special thanks day event for some of the volunteer staff. We arrived to the warm greetings of Charan children, orange flowers, delicious food, and a goat named Gita.

Apparently Jamyang was passing by a butcher when he saw the axe about to descend upon old Gita's hairy goat neck. He shouted "wait!!" and promptly purchased her, saving her from becoming someone's mutton soup. Gita will be donated to one of the families near Charan, where she will live out her long goat years in peaceful pastures, eating rubbish and shrubs until the end of her days.

The act of rescuing an animal typically results in good karma for the savior. Monks and nuns usually dedicate this karma towards the happiness of all sentient beings, but on this occassion Jamyang dedicated the good karma towards the success of Tong-Len's work with the communities in Charan.

He's quite an amazing man, Jamyang is. Lean and wiry as a beanpole, quiet, humble, softspoken. But no ordinairy monk! "Meditation and prayers do have a purpose," he explains, "but for the people in Charan, they need action." He has long since given up his monastic duties (though he still wears his robes, and he is still a monk, by all means!) in exchange for long hours of research, fundraising, planning and building relationships with the community in Charan.

"When I first went to Charan to see how the people lived, they threw rocks and rotten vegetables at me. They wanted money, they wanted food, they wanted quick solutions today but I told them change comes slowly, we first have to give their children an education." Two years later, with an established health clinic, education program, hostel, and many more programs on the way, instead of produce this action monk is showered with respect.

Tales of the Obnoxious Tourist

2006-06-29T23:16:00.000-07:00

DO enunciate and speak clearly when communicating with someone who has difficulty understanding your native langue.

DON'T speak in caveman talk to someone who clearly speaks articulate English.

For example(from an actual conversation):

Local: That's a very amusing idea you have, installing beds instead of chairs in the back of my little movie theater here. But somehow I doubt the novelty of it would attract very many customers. The installation would probably cost more than the extra revenue it would generate.

Obnoxious tourist: Yes, make beds in theater, no chairs. People happy, like beds very much, you make more money!

Local: Um... No, I don't think so... Very funny... [Just leave me alone, you ignorant, condescending fool!]

No hair square

2006-06-28T08:22:00.000-07:00

...Featured here next to super pal and most excellent volunteer Jenny! She's left town some time ago, but her good works with the children of Charan live on. Many amazing folks have come and gone, it gets a bit quiet here as the monsoon rains pick up and the tourists, volunteers, and spiritual seekers return home. Soon it will be just me and the evil robot cow, face to face on the desolate streets beneath the pelting rain, two warriors engaged in an epic timeless battle between good and evil.

Have I told you about the evil robot cow? Technically he's a bull. He gives me the evil robotic eye when I pass by, and he whacked me in the leg with his razor horns.

Speaking of wacky animal hyjinks, I was attacked by three stupid yipping white Tibetan dogs. They gnawed up my ankles pretty good. Nasty little suckers! Watch out! They look cute, but at night, they become evil, just like the cow...

I'm not sure how much longer I will survive here. The animals are out to get me, and the scorpions come out soon. If I don't write again soon, send help.

Charan Episode IV: Imperialism and Nipples

2006-06-27T03:23:00.000-07:00

Check out the Charan kids in this week's feature photo! After we took some photos of us looking organized and proper, I told them, "Everybody DANCE!!" just a half-second before the picture was taken. Hilarity ensues. I think little Sanjay (a.k.a. Yellow Monkey) is enjoying that nipple tweak a little bit too much!

Shankar, on the left, is our translator, Hindi instructor and co-disciplinarian. Lives in the Charan, no formal education, awesomely productive in every facet of Tong-Len's work. He distributes medicines, transports the ill and injured to the hospital, keeps the classroom from falling apart, etc, etc.

Class was cancelled today (hence I am sitting here writing my blog), the wind/rain/hail/cats/dogs storm last night knocked over a bunch of homes so they need to make some major home repairs (find new bamboo poles, tie down the tarp). Met with Runa, our new English teacher from Norway (where the sun shines for two glorious months), to sort out Tong-Len's very first curriculum for the next school year. 'Been researching local schools to see how things are run. Private schools are posh (they have desks), government schools are often dumpy (teachers arrive to class when they feel like it). I dare not blast the schools here too harshly, some real smarties come from India, but the country is still working on providing equal education for all castes/incomes. They have a ways to go, so does America.

Speaking of India: The term "Hindu" used to refer to anyone from this region of the world. Peoples of all religions and walks of life lived in harmonious diversity; nobody cared if you worshiped Vishnu or Allah. Then the British came along, divided the nation in two (Muslim and Hindu), then conquered. The reign of England has ended here, but the unfortunate results of colonialism live on in the conflict between Pakistan and India. Imperialism leaves a bloody footprint in its wake.

Monks talk fitness

2006-06-24T00:38:00.000-07:00

Lobsang says, "If you eat enough, your body will be stone." Why is it important for a monk to have jacked muscles? "If you are not strong, you cannot meditate for a long time, you will get tired. You need energy if you want to help people." I'm always looking for an excuse to chow down on that extra bowl of pak (roasted barley with a touch of butter and sugar).

On the days the water is clean, Lobsang, Tenzin and I head to a nearby pool for a sunrise swim. The water comes directly from mountain streams (fed by melting glaciers and rainwater), down through stone lion heads into a Hindi temple swimming area. Brrr. Afterwards we kick around a hackysack for a half hour. Great way to start the day.

Rock jumping with Boon

2006-06-18T09:12:00.000-07:00

Here are some pictures of me and my dad at Hickory Run State Park in PA. I have foggy memories of this day. We went back there with my cousins at least fifteen years later; when I watched him jumping from rock to rock I knew something seemed familiar.

I was rock hopping a few weeks ago on my way back from Charan; instead of taking the path I came up the river valley. It sure is fun. I wonder if I enjoy it so much because I did it so much as a kid.

My parents usually make me crazy after a few days, but I miss them anyway. They must be real saints, because they sure put up with a lot of crap from me. I was an intolerable teenager. I didn’t get much better in college. These days I’m finally starting to appreciate everything they’ve done for me. I sure “took my merry ass time,” as my mom used to say.

My father's nickname is “Boon.” These days he's patient, good natured and silly, but when my brothers and I were growing up he had a short temper. When he was really young I think he was a real trouble maker. There was one time when he threw some dirty socks into someone’s water well. I think he also pushed a piano (or a stove?) out of a third floor window. I hope he doesn’t mind me telling these stories. I appreciate that he’s open and honest about his imperfections. If he can live with his mistakes, I can learn to accept my own.

Anyway. When I was little he taught me to play chess and speak some French. I think a lot of my values about respecting nature and treating others with compassion must have came from him (and of course from my mom, too). Like my mom, he’s an amazing artist. I don’t remember them teaching me a lot about drawing per se, but my whole family went out of their way to foster my creativity. Most of my childhood was spent in old Civil War forts, castles, Dungeons and Dragons, Tolkein books, make shift rafts in the ocean, magic talismans, home made video games, and hand-painted lead figurines (I just made a grammatical error but you get the point). I think the lead figurines contributed to my mediocre memory and occassional autistic behavoir, but everything else was good for my development.

The point is, I think I turned out pretty okay, my family fostered in me some neat qualities (and some weaknesses too, to be fair, but that's part of being human, right?) and I’m thankful for that.

Charan Episode III: One-legged hop tag

2006-06-07T06:50:00.000-07:00

After class another volunteer and I played a game of one-legged hop tag with my students. They were whispering something in Hindi to each other, I didn't catch on to what they were saying. One by one, each student seemed to fall on their butt before they could catch me. Finally, it dawned on me: They were letting us win! I told them, "Try! Try!" But one by one, each child feigned a fall to the ground until the other teacher and I were the only people left standing. Suddenly they all stood up, encircled us with their arms in the air, some of them hugging us, some of them giving us handshakes, all of them shouting, "Winner! Winner!"

Monk silliness

2006-05-28T06:50:00.000-07:00

Tibetan monks are incredibly down to earth, silly, and fun to be around. Lobsang punches his friends, harasses girls (in an approriate, big-brother kind of way), and calls me fat. Jigme Kocha has biceps bigger than my head, wears sunglasses in class, draws intricate Tibetan lucky symbols on the whiteboard before I arrive. When Tuk Che gets bored with his monk duties we sit around and complain about having too much work; occasionally he'll join us at the local eats, red robes and all.

Damchoe left about a month ago, sad to see him go. He was a real gas. Reminds me a little bit of my dad. From a humble family of nomads, he became a teacher of Buddhism, attaining the highest degree of knowledge - the equivalent of a Doctorate. Many of the other monks here have achieved the same, but given their humble attitude an outsider would never find out.

Happy Mother's Day!

2006-05-20T05:13:00.000-07:00

On my birthday my mom always sends me a little hand-painted watercolor of some flowers. Sometimes my dad will draw funny sketches on the back. Watercolor is a mess but somehow she creates these amazing fluid things... I really don't have the writing skills to describe how nice they are. You'll just have to see them.

One time when I was little I forgot to get her a present, so I filled a coconut shell with some dirt and stuffed some wildflowers in it. I painted "Happy Mother's Day" on the side. Ten years later that stinky old coconut was still proudly displayed in the garden.

Slugs, hail and 185 million dead Africans

2006-05-16T00:37:00.000-07:00

Hail smacked my head the other day. Stuff fires down from the sky like angry golf balls. Unusually hot, weird weather. Local people say, "Monsoons starting so early this year." "It's never been this hot so early." "You can see slugs on the street. Slugs never come out until July, when monsoon season begins. This year is different."

The climate is changing whether we recognize it or not. Slugs pop their gooey antannae out a few months early. Families in Charan enjoy a small brown stream running through their home before they can seek out higher ground. Schools in Delhi close early, children whose parents can afford the bus ticket travel north to cooler regions. An extra 185 million Africans may die, as if they didn't suffer enough already.

"Climate change is taking place and will inevitably continue. Poor people will take the brunt... Rich countries must take responsibility for having largely created this problem, and cut CO2 emissions radically..."
-Christian Aid, NGO

"Most scientists agree that global warming is due to burning fossil fuels for transport and power... Christian Aid said it based its estimate of 185 million deaths due to disease on figures from the UN... Global warming should allow carriers like mosquitos to expand thier ranges. Melting ice caps and glaciers were not only eroding coast lines at a rapid rate but were also raising sea levels and reducing reliable sources of fresh water. At the same time changing weather patterns were increasing the incidence of floods and droughts, with arid regions becoming drier and wet regions getting wetter."

"These changes would increase tensions as key resources like water and fertile land became more scarce..." Etc. Fuck!! Poor people are going to get shit on really bad by the irresponsibility of most everyone else.

Countless living beings could suffer and die. Who's responsible? Oil companies? Politicans? People who drive SUVs? People who fly in airplanes? Republicans? Hippies? Anyone who has ever eaten factory farmed meat, bought tofu that came from rainforest soy, or turned on a light switch? Yes, yes, and yes. Pretty much anyone on this planet who lives, breathes and poops shares the responsibility of protecting other living beings. If all hell breaks loose some of us will get screwed over worse than others, but the fact remains that we're all in this together (awww) and if we don't get our act together it's going to bite us in the ass sooner or later.

So as much as I love venting my frustrations at certain political figures who shall remain unnamed, better to stop pointing fingers and take get involved in as many ways as possible. I think in the coming years there will be a growing need for folks who give two scoops. Regardless of our creed, religion, diet, species or political affliation, we can all agree that the suffering of any sentient being is totally for the birds. Let's think about our every choice, and ask, "how am I impacting others?" The answer may not be that obvious, since those affected by our actions are often an ocean away.

Useful tourist & scaly invader

2006-05-11T09:06:00.000-07:00

My pal Tsering says to me today, "Brent, you are a useful tourist." Thanks buddy!

March I felt like a useless floundering tourist with good intentions. April I felt overwhelmed and occassionaly grumpy. Now I can honestly say I'm serving some useful functions here and there, and I feel calm, at peace with my life here. Meditation, prayers, good food and exercise have improved my mental and physical well-being. My students, friends, colleagues and teachers ooze character and compassion through their pores. Opportunities for change abound. Come join the fun, monsoon season's just begun!

A foot long lizard scurried into the middle of the class in Charan today. Children screamed and ran to the farthest corners of the tent. Class could not resume until Shankar shooed away the scaly fellow. "Surely," I thought, "they must deal with stranger critters than a cuddly little lizard!"

Neat parallel

2006-05-11T09:04:00.000-07:00

108 beads on a Tibetan mala (prayer beads).
54 beads on a Catholic rosary.

neat.

There is no spoon

2006-05-05T04:04:00.000-07:00

Our state of mind shapes our experience. Our brain can tell us we're miserable on our birthday, happy in prison, calm during a tornado or stressed out at a knitting club.

For example: My commute to Charan takes a total of two and half hours. I have to walk, good Lordy, in the heat and sometimes the rain and always in the dust past noisy people and the dirt gets up in my nose. Afterwards, I blow my nose and black snots come out. Gross! Holy crap it makes me tired. Then I have to teach screaming kiddos that would rather hang on me like I'm a walking playground than learn squat about maths and English. Look, I can see their lice and scabies and cooties marching right up onto my arm. Get me out of here!!

But what if it was more like this: Damn, I am one lucky duck! My commute to and from Charan is breathtaking. I walk past the freaking Himalayas on my way to work, how neat!! I found a secret mountain path past some little villages; there's lots of rock hopping and steep slip-sliding down the dirt. The only traffic I have to deal with are herds of goats, wayward cows with their pointy horns, and plenty of pups who are happy to tag along, asking only for a brief ear scratching in return. When I arrive in Charan people are happy to see me, and I am happy to see them. My students scream and smile when I arrive, and they pull on my arm when I leave, begging for one more math question (it's true, some do), or one more game of one-legged tag. Sometimes class is chaotic, but I work with children whose parents' would rather they beg on the streets than go to school. I can't expect them to be model citizens. The journey home is physically challenging, but invigorating. I sleep well at night, knowing I did something meaningful with my day. Go me. Listen to me honk my own horn, HONK! Damn it, I love what I do here!

There is no spoon. Woah.

Monastic mountain meal with Pizza Pup & Shangri-La Lobsang

2006-04-30T00:55:00.000-07:00

Lobsang is the manager of Shangri-La, the tastiest, cheapest, most happenin’ monk hangout, restaurant and guest house this side of the Himalaya. I head there every morning for some honey curd, tofu spinach soup, banana crepes with peanut better and hot lemon honey ginger. Yes, I eat like a gluttonous cow. I am no longer a skeletal shade of my former self, and food, thankfully, has reconciled her differences with my belly.

This past weekend, Lobsang was kind enough to treat me to pizza in Dharamkot (the new residence of Mr. Sanhueza), a small mountain village. Why is there pizzeria in a mountain village? I don’t know, I don’t care, I’m just happy to snarf crunchy mushroom garlic slices beneath a crown of craggy peaks. Sanhueza joined us for lunch, accompanied by his four-legged lady friend with gorgeous golden fur and wide brown eyes. She happily snacked on our leftover crusts, though we had to restrain her from chomping on some nearby kiddos.

High altitude affable affiliations. (aflac!)

2006-04-21T05:18:00.000-07:00

On the left, Jimpa dilligently reads National Geographic to broaden his horizons. What a model citizen!

To his right, Tsering indulges himself in a life of sin and vice. What a scumbag!

Just kidding, both fellows depicted here are most excellent friends and superb individuals! We pass our spare minutes (Lordy, I have so few these days!) shooting the breeze, drinking lassis and playing chess. Tsering is a brilliant writer; we hope his novel - The Tear, the heart wrenching chronicle of his exodus from Tibet - will someday be published in America. Our dear friend in the ol' Red White and Blue, Maura Elford, is helping him master the mystical art of English writing. Jimpa has many amazing childhood tales of his experiences as a monk, and soon, we hope he will travel to a wildlife reserve in Canada, eh?

More cute puppies and the Luddite Trap

2006-04-21T05:11:00.000-07:00

I revised my previous entry; I was way too harsh on Westerners wanting to give handouts to poor communities. There are countless scenarios where donations to developing nations are desparately needed.

For example, one might say, "We have no business bringing money and technology into rural villages; these people live simple, peaceful, beautiful lives, who are we to march in and introduce our Western lifestyle?" Doctor Paul Farmer, international health superstar, calls this the "luddite trap," or, "good things for rich people and shit for the poor." (Luddite = someone who shuns/dislikes technology in favor of a simpler lifestyle.) Granted, there is some appeal to living in a hut on a tranquil farm with cows and wheat fields. The danger, however, is the tendency to romanticize this lifestyle. It's easy to see the beauty in a "simple life" when we have the freedom to choose between life in a hut, versus a life of convenience, medical care, video games and such.

On the other side of the coin, great care must be taken when introducing Western values/culture/technology to a developing community. History is chock full of horror stories wherein colonists force and/or coerce native peoples to adopt some useless crap way of life that winds up wiping out their entire culture.

One of the best litmus tests of a good "donation," I think, is one presented by Amartya Sen, author of Development as Freedom: Let the people choose. Citizens should have the freedom to decide for themselves what sort of lifestyle they wish to lead. If an African village community requests crank-powered laptops and better schooling so their children can get an education, more power to any organization who can help them achieve this goal! If the families in Charan ask for a medical clinic, by all means, let's help them stay healthy!

Perhaps I'm contradicting myself a bit, but issues like these are complicated, and I'm still sorting it all out for myself. The moral of my story, I think, is to help out wherever there is need, so as long as both parties are involved in deciding what help is truly needed, and care is taken to ensure a positive impact without creating dependency.

Charan Episode 2: Holy Tarp

2006-04-14T01:34:00.000-07:00

Commutes to Charan (Indian refugee camp) can sink the heart. Black tarp, riddled with holes, held up by wobbly wooden posts. Dirt floors, trickling rivers of rancid gray sewage, dust everywhere that clings to the inside of noses. Children rife with epidermal woes. Tension between refugees from different parts of India. Still, it didn't take long to feel at home among charming children and wacky unpredictability of village life (warning: it's easy to appreciate the "charm" in slums when not forced to live in one).

This week, en route to teach, a passerby pointed to me and said, "Angrezi!" (English person!) Before I had time to respond, one of the Charan locals shouted, "No, not Angrezi. Hindi, Hindi!" What an honor! Felt such comfort and warmth to be welcomed as a member of the community. Indeed, walking to and from class is a slow but lovely journey; so many chats, handshakes, smiles and small children to carry along the way.

Important, however, not to feel too smug in my role as a helper. Better, I think, to avoid scenarios where Westerners ride in on a white horse to save the children; offering freebies and instant solutions can create dependency on foreigners and a feeling of helplessness. The goal of Tong Len is not to provide handouts; rather, their aim is to empower the people to solve their own problems. For example, a small business loan to help local women start a clothing shop is far better than handing out money. Hiring local teachers to work with Western volunteers provides children with role models from their own community. Shankar, for example, grew up in Charan. Now he works tirelessly to teach the children Hindi, translate for Western teachers and doctors, deliver medicine to local families, patch holes in the classroom roof (tarp). He has enough salary to move out of the slum, but he chooses to remain.
On that note, if anyone is looking to support a worthwhile non-profit, I give Tong-Len five stars for sustainability, positive impact, and responsible use of funding. To learn more, check out http://www.tong-len.org/

Rest, with good company

2006-04-08T06:18:00.000-07:00

Hiked up to a Tibetan boarding school with other volunteers. A relaxing stroll on a beautiful day renewed energy lost to a busy (and wonderfully productive) work week. McLeod Ganj is home now, teaching is my job, goats are traffic and weekends are a time for sleep, meditation, paneer and ice cream bars.

I'm thankful for the friends I have here. Sanhueza (yellow shirt, photo below), an artist I met back at Stainless Steel Studios, came to volunteer for three months. He's thriving here - running an art program for the children in the slums, teaching courses to monks, Tutoring, helping with the cleanup project. His presence is motivating.

The other volunteers are equally skilled and gracious. Colin (far right, photo below) travelled many hours to find flea spray, worm pills and dog food for a stray pup. He came to do research for a Human Rights group, but his compassion towards Cocoa the emaciated dog demonstrates the extra effort some people will take to ease suffering. Many Tibetans, I think, exemplify this; they have tremendous respect for all sentient life, and will protect the lives of even the smallest creatures.

Hilly

2006-04-03T04:40:00.000-07:00

Yup, it really does get that steep.

Quest for the Sign Painter

2006-03-31T06:19:00.000-08:00

Brent needed to find the mythical sign painter to make a sign for his new volunteer project. And so, the quest began.

Louise said, "Yes! I know a lovely family, the husband is a carpenter, he will build and paint a sign for you, go to the crystal shop and speak to his wife."

At the Crystal Shop, a woman said, "Oh, a sign? You need to speak to my sister, she will back tomorrow."

The next day, the sister said, "My husband cannot make you a sign, he is just a carpenter. Go to the Shiva Art Gallery, there you will find a sign painter."

But the Shiva Art Gallery did not exist, even though Brent went to the building that had "Shiva Art Gallery" literally painted on the roof. There was only a pregnant woman who did not speak English, and Brent's Hindi was still horrendous.

A shopkeeper said, "A signpainter, yes, he lives near the temple. Go to the bottom of the road near the temple, you will find him there." So Brent went to the bottom of the road near the temple, but there was only an Indian man selling bongs and necklaces. The Indian man was very friendly, and asked, "Would you like some weed? Or perhaps a bong, or a pipe?" Brent replied, "No thank you, I am looking for a sign painter." So the kind weed peddler took Brent to the sign painter. At last, Brent's quest had come to an end.

"Sir," asked Brent, "Can you make me a sign?"

The sign painter replied, "Certainly, I can paint you a beautiful sign!" Brent sighed with relief. The sign painter continued, "But first, you must bring me a piece of metal for the sign. Go and find the metal smith, he lives in the valley..."

Charan

2006-03-22T22:48:00.000-08:00

Dang, I spoke too soon! Poo fountain turned back on last night with full force. I'm sure no one wants to hear about my bodily functions, but writing about challenges helps me move past unpleasantness and get on with the day.

Had to cancel volunteer work today, again. Crawled up steps to chow down on some bananas. Feeling a bit better now.

My plan was to write about how I'm teaching english and math to children in an impoverished village, as well as co-pioneering a program to clean up trash and educate folks about the health dangers of burning plastics. But as often happens, the moment I think I'm saving the world, the Powers That Be knock me on my arse to remind me of my human frailty. It's quite humbling to feel so immobile, curled up in a feverish ball, waiting for the next intestinal rumble.

On the bright side, my body knows what's best for me. If I'm expelling something, it never belonged there in the first place, so in a sense it feels purifying.

Also a good reminder of what people in the slum village have to deal with; I have the luxury of a warm sleeping bag and pepto-bismol, they have to deal with living in the dirt with all manner of diseases, cooties, and fecal matter. When I first went down to teach (it's in the valley, an hour walk down the mountain), I nearly cried when I saw the living conditions. Not to far off from hell, if such a place exists. To add insult to injury, the only place they could set up their camp is in a dried up river valley, so when it rains the "floor" turns to mud. And yet the children (the ones that aren't bed ridden with Polio, TB, or infections) are amazingly lively, curious and respectful. Nearly every class ends with at least a dozen of them piled on top of me, calling out "Sir! Sir! Sir!" Asking endless questions, waiting to show me their latest drawing or math problem.

We're discouraged from bringing cameras to the village, so I'm attaching a photo from the charity's website: http://www.tong-len.org/

...Having trouble uploading photos, will try again later.

Focusing on what can be changed

2006-03-22T06:03:00.000-08:00

Once again feeling healthy as a horse. Eating like a cow, digesting food properly even without multiple stomaches. Energy back to full-on cheeky monkey levels.

Tutoring Tibetan monks. My students are brilliant and inquisitive, incredibly fast learners. If only I could pick up Hindi so easily! English lessons entail a great deal of hand-waving, drawing pictures, laughing about "dogs with horns" and other wacky forms of communication (miscommunication?). Beneath all the brevity lies the sad reality that Lobsang Damchoe wants to learn to say, "I am scared for my family in Tibet."

On that note, a "Free Tibet" would be a dream come true, but China has no motivation to make this a reality. Even if a western nation demands China lessen their grip on Tibet, such a demand would be laughable! The Chinese Government would say, "Who are YOU to tell us about giving people their land?" America, for example, has a sterling reputation for snatching land away from Native peoples, followed by systematic assimilation of their culture. Even now, we pump oil through Alaskan native land (with the occasional nasty spill), wreaking havok on delicate ecosystems to satisfy our addiction to fossil fuels.

I'm ashamed for the actions of certain American leaders, but I still love my country. I love my freedoms, video games, orange sherbet, a comfy couch, water that doesn't give me diarrhea and a decent sized TV. I appreciate that I can openly complain about my government, marry whomever*, and live in relative luxury. I'm reasonably patriotic, and I hope I present myself in a manner that portrays Americans as responsible folk.

Forgive the tangent.

Tibet: I can't free their people, but I can help a few who have escaped to India. Learning to speak English goes a long way towards finding jobs and understanding current events. I'm focusing on things I CAN change, because it's just too painful to pull my hair out over the injustices that can't be changed. More in the next entry.

*some exceptions apply

Last hope for a nonviolent conflict

2006-03-14T01:18:00.000-08:00

Listened to Tenzin Tsundue (widely recognized advocate for Tibetan independence) speak on Tibetan struggle. Talked about being arrested for visiting his homeland, jailed for six months by Chinese authorities. Severely beaten, like most Tibetan refugees who try returning home.

Interesting how Tibetan youths view struggle for independence. While they have tremendous respect for H.H. the Dalai Lama, they don't necessarily agree with his approach (the Dalai Lama no longer asks for Tibetan independence - he would settle for Tibet to be a part of China, but with some autonomy). Much of the younger generation will settle for nothing less than complete independence, and they don't necessarily follow complete non-violence. The Western world views Tibetans as a peaceful, non-violent, spiritual people. This is mostly true, though the occassional Tibetan uprising has been known to result in a few dead Chinese soldiers (though mostly dead Tibetans).

Tenzin explains, "When Chinese soldiers are on your doorstep, destroying your monastaries, raping your wives, imprisoning your people, you don't think in terms of violence or non-violence. You just act. This is completely natural."

While he sympathizes with the violent actions of his peers, Tenzin himself still believes in a non-violent approach. "This is the last hope for a nonviolent conflict. If the Tibetans are not successful, there will be no more nonviolent struggles, because people will say, 'Look at the Dalai Lama, he tried a nonviolent approach, but he failed.'"

Amazing Diet Plan!! Lose Weight Fast!!

2006-03-10T20:07:00.000-08:00

Hi, I'm here to tell you about my new diet plan! Tired of all those "Quick Fix" ads you see on TV? Frustrated with magic "Diet Pills" that just never work? Well have I got a solution for you!

Here's how it works:

Travel to altitude of 6,000 feet where everything feels like more work. Eat a healthy meal for breakfast, and one of my patented, delicious, parasite infested banana-lassi shakes!*

Hike to picturesque mountain waterfall. Spend the night expelling half-digested breakfast on mountainside. Travel with German friends who are kind enough to build fire for you when fever sets in. Upon descending mountain, haul luggage down endless staircase to depths of valley.

Travel to Indian slums in dried up riverbed. Perform 30 repetitions of biceps curl with two children hanging off each arm. Walk back to town from slums. Takes roughly four hours, all uphill, if you miss shortcuts and take a few wrong turns along the way. Avoid buses barrelling down winding mountain pass with headlights off.

Sleeping with eyes open, scanning walls for spiders, will burn a few additional calories.

Try my plan for two weeks and you'll see results fast!!

*For the record, banana lassis here are delicious and probably safe to drink. It's unclear what made me ill, but pretty much everyone has to deal with some kind of digestive unpleasantness when travelling. It's not all that bad - in fact, my experience camping out while losing food and water out both ends was a welcome personal challenge.

Human Rights Crisis

2006-03-06T21:53:00.000-08:00

Photo: Shirt worn by Tibetan victim of Chinese military violence. Brown spots are blood stains.

Visited Tibetan museum to better understand situation here. Impossible, I think, to leave without feeling overwhelming sadness and frustration. Some excerpts:

"The systematic eradication of Tibetan culture and religion saw the destruction of over 6,000 monastaries and temples by the Chinese military. The handful still standing today are used as tourist attractions, army barracks, or public toilets..."

"I participated in a peaceful demonstration with five other nuns from my nunnery. We were immediately arrested and taken to a detention center. I was interrogated for two months. We were hung from the ceiling, cigarettes were stubbed on our bodies, and we were beaten seriously with metal wires. Female prisoners had electric batons inserted in their private parts..."

"Approximately 1.2 million Tibetans died [so far] as a result of Chinese oppresion through executions, torture, hunger, and labor camps. Since 1959, about 100,000 Tibetans fled to neighboring countries. Many die on the way from Chinese attacks or harsh conditions..."

McLeod Ganj (where I live) is in Nothern India, SW of the Tibetan (or Chinese, depends who you ask) border. His Holiness the Dalai Lama fled here in 1959. Tibetans I've met trekked across the Himalayas to get here. Many get frostbite, some lose fingers/toes.

Situation for Tibetans in China is getting worse. Dalai Lama's response remains amazingly tempered: "His Holiness has never condoned violence. He is cautious of his condemnation of Chinese atrocities, never using language of hate or anger... H.H. considers himself a follower of Gandhi."

Last room of the museum has pictures of H.H. (His Holiness) meeting with world leaders and religious figures, including G.W., Pope John Paul and Nelson Mandela. In another photo he recieves Nobel Peace Prize. The systematic eradication of the Tibetan people is an internationally recognized Human Rights disaster, so why does it continue?

The Chinese government is not held accountable for violating international law. Businesses around the world continue to enjoy cheap labor, manufacturing and imports from China. The Olympic Committee Chose Beijing as the site for the 2008 Olympics (not supposed to be hosted by Nation that commits Human Rights violations). Neither UN, nor US, slaps them on the wrist (perhaps because they're a nuclear superpower?).

Suggestions and comments are welcome.

Trek to Triund

2006-03-04T22:22:00.000-08:00

Hiked to Triund, roughly 2,800 meters, or 8,400 feet. Four hours to the top. Just a little foothill compared to surrounding peaks. Views are breathtaking. Travelled with six companions: German friends Mario and Martin, plus four dogs we met on the road. Snowflake (generic name for white dog) and Gandhi (refuses food) wandered off, but Cookie Dog (eats the most cookies) and Explorer (generic dog name) faithfully stayed by our side for the entire journey to the top.

Enjoyed cups of chai at mountaintop snack shack. Have no idea how the shop owner can handle the cold, snow, sleet, and lonliness. Must be peaceful, though. Took nap on rock. Thought of Scoops and Crowe, hikers extraordinaire from back home. Wish they were here to share the experience.

Obligatory intestinal distress, slight dehydration (bring more water next time!) and mild sunburn (use more sunblock!) made descent wearying. Still remains among top 10 most exciting days ever.

Monks in da club

2006-03-04T21:56:00.000-08:00

"All he does is grab, grab, grab. This man is bad for the Universe."
- Indian shop owner, referring to George W. Bush

Met a group of western volunteers. Seems like a welcoming, fun group. Niraj is moving out, so I'll be taking his room. Much cheaper than my current place, though the occassional large, furry, dinner-plate sized spider has been rumored to drop by during rainy days. Hoping he's just trying to scare the new guy.

Went with new volunteers to Tibetan / Indian dance party. Wasn't sure what to expect. Indian police padded us down at the door. Everything else was just like a club in Boston, except beer cost a quarter, and we were dancing among monks (in civilian clothes). Was not expecting to hear 50 Cent at any point during my time here.

Met Tashi (means "lucky"), a Tibetan student on vacation from school. Wants to become a vet so he can "help animals." Rock on, Tashi. Apparently he thought I was a good dancer because he mimicked me the entire night. Real nice kid, got his email, going to help him with his English.

Dance party ended when drunken brawl erupted, two Tibetans stabbed in knife fight. Very unfortunate. Spoke to many locals, learned that some youths "lose their way," get involved in drugs, alcohol, violence, and frequent use of American cuss words (for the record, I have yet to meet an unfriendly Tibetan). No surprise, as many children travel to India from Tibet without their parents to escape Chinese persecution, find work, etc. Returning home runs the risk of imprisonment: "Many Tibetans return home to visit family... Many are lucky, and only go to jail for a few days. Some go to jail for years."

"God gives, but doesn't share." - Haitian Proverb

2006-03-02T21:00:00.000-08:00

...This meant, as public health champion Paul Farmer expains, "God gives us humans everything we need to flourish, but he's not the one who's supposed to divvy up the loot. That charge was laid upon us."

Time here already feels like an adventurer's dream come true. Staying in a room with a view of the Himalayas that costs $6 US dollars a night. Hiked to a Bhuddist mountain retreat, past wiley leaping monkeys that grab pant legs and food if not careful. Took Indian drumming lessons. Ate delicious Tibetan dinner with three companions from Germany and Alaska. Later today, hiking to nearby waterfalls. Tomorrow, trekking to nearby peak.

On morning of day three, already anxious to start volunteering. Should have my assignment by the 6th, probably teaching English. Been reading too much about Paul Farmer, in Mountains Beyond Mountains. Best book ever, a gift from Amy. Tells the story of a man with superhuman passion for providing medical care to poor communities in Haiti (now he's in Africa). Very powerful, entertaining, insightful. Highly recommended reading. Places God in an interesting light (see quote above).

On a related note, was accepted into Johns Hopkins School of Public Health for International Health/Peace Corps program. Feeling more and more passionate about studying there, to learn skills that will enable a greater impact. At the moment I feel somewhat impotent to make the kind of positive impact I want to make. Teaching English is wonderful and useful, but I can't save lives with it. Nor can I redistribute massive inequalities of wealth, but I suppose nobody can do that. Also can't clean up irreversible damage to environment by reckless use of natural gas (Parts of India are especially bad - millions of cars and bad roads, city air is heavy with smog. But at least they don't have SUVs). Guess I have to focus on what I can change, pick one area that I can effect and do my best.

Learning to live with less here. Room has hot water, but not using any. Bringing water filter was wise as it means I don't buy botted water = less waste. Going to move into simpler living quarters. One more weekend of fun adventures, after that hopefully work begins. Pictures of monkeys coming soon.

"May all sentient beings be happy"

2006-03-01T20:39:00.000-08:00

View from my porch. Photo doesn't do justice. Rivendell is for the birds.

Woke up at sunrise, did some pushups, ate some fish snacks, went out for my first "run" in McLeod Ganj. Roads are too steep to run down, have to avoid obstacle course of cow poop, garbage, vehicles and sleeping puppies. Going uphill involves 20 steps followed by huffing and puffing. Saw a procession of Tibetans going down mountain pathway, so I followed.

Winding mountain forest path weaved past pine trees, views of snow capped peaks, prayer stones, beggars. Passed a sign reading, "May all sentient beings be happy." Eventually came to what looked to be a monastary up on the mountain, but so many prayer flags, statues, and monks obstructed my view. Decided to save the monastary for another time. Turned lots of prayer wheels (will attach photo next time).

Met two friendly German travellers, Mario and Martin, at Indian restaurant (amazing cheap food) last night. Will join them for my first hike tomorrow morning. Drum lessons later today.

So much to see and experience, too little time to write about it all! These are tiny snippets of an overwhelmingly amazing place.

Arrival in India

2006-03-01T05:34:00.000-08:00

Amy checked the weather in Delhi, it said, "Smoky." I figured out what that meant when I got off the plane, phew! The air was like a blast from a weird smelly sauna. Eric Dannerhoj wasn't kidding. Didn't bother me, though, made sense that a place so unfamiliar should also smell and feel different.

Taxi ride to Manju Katilla (Tibetan settlement) was harrowing. No one stays in lanes, ubiquitous trucks don't have rear view mirrors so driver has to honk everytime we pass. The best was driving on the shoulder, the wrong way, to get to some side street. Advice to travellers: Don't hesitate to ask the driver to slow down.

Enough on driving... Manju Katilla felt like a kung fu movie. Clotheslines, thin dirt alleyways between houses stacked upwards like wobbly jenga towers. Mangy (but very cute) dogs everywhere (ruff ruff!), hanging out eating trash. Saw some puppies bathing in a trickle of green water. Cows, too, wandering about. A bit sad at first, but reassuring to know animals are respected and cared for - lots of veg & animal shelter posters.

Wandered around the village, met a nice British Bhuddist named Tammy who explained Bhuddist tapestries - created with a mathematical pattern of sorts, so when you correctly draw Bhudda's face it should looks the same no matter how big you draw it. Neat.

Speaking of meeting nice folk, I'm thankful for the abundance of friendly faces here. Off to dinner, more news soon!