The Slums...

It has been a very emotionally exhausting past 5 days for me. I began my family homestay program by taking a land cruiser with 4 people up front, (including the driver) 5 in the cab, 8 in the very back, and 6 people on top holding a cage with a dozen live chickens, and several bags of rice for an hour down a very bumpy road to a small village with my leader, and the head of CWIN,( an organization that fights for childrens civil rights and sponsors poor families, providing them with school supplies.). We arrived during a town meeting- all the children and parents were gathered together to announce the childrens year end exams, and recieve goodies (books, pens, pencils, etc.) We were greeted with flower lays and big red tikas on our foreheads. The principal (or as they say, head master) introduced us to the curious crowd. After the ceremony, the head master took us to different childrens homes where I gathered information about the child- things like how they are doing in school, have they been sick, do they sleep in the kitchen (this is important because about everyone uses wood to fire the stove to cook, producing so much smoke and causing many illnesses in children) These families are incredibly poor. It was a lot of repeat cases that are being sponsored. The most common problems are 1) the father as abadoned the family, and the mother has no education and either works as a labourer for 100 rupees a day, (that is $1) OR, the mother can't work, and just farms to provide food for the family. Scenario 2)The father left for Saudi Arabia or to work with the Maoists and got either ill or hurt and had to come home and is unable to work. This is hard because the father would have to have sold all his land to afford the visa and plane ticket, leaving the family with nothing if he does not succeed. These people live in small clay huts, and sleep on grass mats, and generally do not have any other seperate room to sleep in. It was an eye opener being there- like jumping back in time- which is ironic to say because in the Nepali calendar, it is currently year2066! We slept at the head masters home that night after eating a big plate of Dal Bhat and dindo- a millet paste- with our hands. Yes- I ate with my hands. There isn't another choice anyway. The next day, I visited more children in the slums of Pokhara- this is a bit different from what I just described. It is government land, and these children (same heart wrenching scenarios) live in dirty shacks with many people in the city- there is very minimal farming area so it is very difficult for them. The children are all very bright, and very good students I found out. All have motivation to do well in school, because they know what a gift it is to actually BE IN school, and are thankful for the support they are getting from CWIN and Chance for Children. I did get to do some sight seeing as well- I saw the World Peace Pogada, went boating on the Phewa Tal lake here in Pokhara, saw old Pokhara and old HIndu temples adn Devi's Falls- all are along the way to see the kids. I stayed with one headmaster whose children were very interested in the "american" staying with them. SO much that when I was journaling, everyone stood around me watching, and when I went to bed, the grandmother tucked me in and brused my hair in the morning. People are so very hospitable and happy to have you in their home. I ate Dal Bhat once again, every night, with my hands each time. It is hard, it feels very barbaric and unnatural, and you have to sorta suck and slurp the rice/dal concoction into your mouth and thaat is odd since we were brought up to not eat with you hands, don't slurp, wait to eat till everyone has been served... all those basic manners that are engraved into your mind suddenly don't apply. The view in Pokhara is quite beautiful- you have an amazing view of all the mountains, and it's funny to think that a few weeks ago, I was on the other side of them. What a week. I ended it not very well- last night I got food poisoning and have had to postpone my trip to Kathmandu due to this illness. But all in all, it has been such a surreal week, seeing how these people live- it is not at all the same as teh villages I stayed in on the trek. Poverty has taken on a whole new meaning to me. I mean, some of these people don't even have a toilet or running water! and the water they use to wash their cloths is usually a disgusting river of swill that runs through the gutter of the street- That is what they wash their cloths in. There are water buffalo and cattle all over the place, and because there is a heavy HIndu population, they dont do anything about them- cows are holy, and usually the Brahimins own the water buffalo, and since the Brahmins are the highest caste, well, the water buffalo stay. I am looking forward to going home to crosswalks, and streets NOT full of cows water buffalo and chickens all over the place. But what an experience this has been.