19 December 2015

Unexpected Photo Dump #1

Due to certain technical challenges (such as the catastrophic meltdown of my laptop's face), it's been difficult to access the hundreds of higher-quality photos I've taken with my camera. Today I borrowed another computer and transferred some to my other device, so now I can share them! Here are some notable ones, available for download in their full, glorious 6+ megabyte size. They're vaguely organized by how far I had to go from my room to take them (except the first one, duh), and include such localities as Khandbari, Malta, Num, Lulungma, and Chyaksedada, the latter three of which are villages on the Makalu base camp trail.

13 December 2015

Surya Boarding School

This is an overdue post about the place where I actually work, Surya Boarding School.

Welcome!
First of all, the school's main gate can be reached from the main drag in Khandbari via a picturesque back alley in just two or three minutes.

Our alley
However, reaching the classrooms takes an additional five minutes of walking, as the grounds are quite extensive. Alas, the whole place is built into the side of a steep mountain slope (this can't be helped; very few places around here are flat), so going across the grounds is more like hiking than walking.
So many stairs
The entire campus can't be captured in a single photograph from the ground and is beyond my limited artistic capacity to recreate on paper. It consists of an office, a cafeteria, six buildings containing multiple classrooms, two outdoor assembly areas, a soccer field, and a few acres of terraced fields used for teaching sustainable agriculture. Currently under construction are one classroom building, an additional office which will contain a new library, an expansion for the cafeteria, underground wiring, and better outdoor paths/stairs. It's great; I can only imagine what kinds of fun my childhood friends and I would have had exploring such a place during recess.

Primary/secondary level classrooms
Occupying this space are about 650 students [7/11/16 edit: 700 in the 2016-17 school-year], 40 faculty and staff, and a small army of temporary construction workers. The students range from nursery level to tenth grade, and many of them have attended only this school since the beginning of their education. The school aspires to offer eleventh grade (which is like junior college in Nepal; see my earlier post about the Nepali education system) starting next year.

Primary level classrooms
Students take all compulsory subjects with the addition of computer science, trigonometry/precalculus, and sustainable agriculture, the last of which is integrated into the curriculum of the mandatory Occupation, Business, and Technology class. Each school-day runs 10-4, with eight 40-minute periods, a 30-minute recess, and a short assembly at the beginning and end of the day.

New construction
There are few teaching resources beyond textbooks, whiteboards, an offline computer lab, and whatever can be found or improvised from local materials (some of these improvised things are actually really neat, particularly in the science classes), but we do our best with what we've got. The teachers are paid significantly less than their peers in government schools, which, sadly, is the norm here, but the school recently began a pension program for teachers of 5+ years to encourage long-term retention.

Assembly
Current projects at the school include trying to ban junk food, improving the quality and variety of healthy food available at the cafeteria, improving the availability of multimedia in the classrooms, and trying to make the school a litter-free zone.

The infrastructure going up here is beyond anything else happening at schools in this district, or in most others. I've heard more than one Nepali person say that they didn't think a school in the mountains would ever be like this. There are two or three other developments happening which are secrets for now, but which will probably make an appearance on this blog in the coming months...


Here, ancient temples
Mountains up above the clouds
And rusty tin roofs

06 November 2015

The Current Situation in Nepal

As always seems to be the case, Nepal is not having a great time overall these days. I'll save myself the trouble of writing an entire essay by including this excellent article summarizing what has been happening at a national level (just skip the contrived title).

Here in Khandbari, few people are still visibly reeling from the effects of the earthquakes, as the epicenters were quite far away from here and the damage was not as serious. This town is growing at such a fast rate that it's difficult to tell which construction projects are new and which are earthquake repairs.

However, the shortage of gasoline, caused by protesters in the Tarai region, and probably also by the Indian government, has had a markedly negative effect on Khandbari. In the past month, I'm aware of just two deliveries of gas, 500 liters each, of which motorists could only purchase two liter increments, and which was quickly exhausted. I've heard that some people have been able to buy smuggled gas for a whopping $5 per liter. Cylinders of cooking gas are also very scarce. It's a very strange situation; there's so little fuel that people are cooking with fires and riding their motorcycles downhill with the engines off, but somehow there's enough for two private helicopters to land here this week (probably heading toward Mount Makalu to rescue overzealous tourists).

Also in short supply here are construction materials and various foods - onions, potatoes, rice (though the next harvest is coming shortly), and lentils, among others. This district does not produce enough food to sustain itself indefinitely; instead, it imports foodstuffs from other districts, paid for by exporting cash crops (primarily cardamom and rudraksha). There's plenty of other food for now, and the things which are running out are still obtainable at outrageous prices, but as anyone who has been to Nepal knows, having no cheap rice and lentils greatly interferes with the typical Nepali diet. In a sad irony, the shortages do not seem to extend to the surrounding villages, because they had no choice but to be mostly self-sufficient even before these current problems began.

Village scene
Every day there is some story in the news about gas convoys coming from China or a number of tankers making it through the Indian blockade, but none of it is coming here as of yet. In the meantime, school continues, everyone is eating overpriced daal bhat, and we're making tea over a wood fire, in the old way.

17 October 2015

Devitar

Two weeks ago I had the sort of adventure that made me fall in love with this country three years ago, and it was too great not to share.

I recently met a lovely woman named Sunita through a mutual friend in the States. She works for the Himalayan Education Center, an NGO that promotes rural education. They run a hostel in Khandbari where they host women from rural villages and subsidize the cost of their higher studies, and they also create libraries for government schools in rural areas. They happened to be working on such a library last weekend and Sunita invited me to join them, so I happily bumbled along, as is the way of my people.

My impression of what was going to happen was that we would walk for a few hours to a village and assess their resources and needs, or something like that. What actually happened is that we took a five hour drive in a truck packed with five people, boxes full of maps, charts, and about three hundred books, and one very heavy bookshelf. We drove past Chainkuti Danda, a pass from where one has a panoramic view of the not-so-distant high Himalaya on a sunny day, and the farthest point down the road that I had previously seen. Continuing on, the road condition quickly declined from "Rural Maine" to "I'm Pleasantly Surprised That We Didn't Tip Over," though the scenery was, of course, gorgeous. We wound through terraced rice paddies wafting the divine scent of the coming harvest, rocky switchbacks ravaged by monsoon downpours, forests of thick bamboo, and villages of increasingly rustic appearance. We drove all the way across a valley, down one side and back up the other - no small task when in the vicinity of the Arun Valley, the deepest valley in the world - and finally came to our destination.

On the Doorstep
The village of Devitar (here...?) is way out there - thatched roofs, little evidence of packaged foods, and only solar panels for electricity. Their school, though, seemed to be fairly new. After we unloaded all of the supplies and ate lunch, the faculty of the school held a big ceremony to celebrate the new library. Nepali people love having such ceremonies, but this one was over-the-top even by their standards. I've received a lot of tika in my day, but never so much as this. The principal, some teachers, and Sunita all gave speeches, and some students sang and performed traditional dances of their castes. Nobody there knew that I was coming, but they asked that I give a talk to the students, because most of them had never heard a native English speaker before. After all the fanfare had ended we promptly made our departure, since we wanted to get home at a reasonable hour.

This is where things get interesting. About a minute up the road from the school, our truck got stuck on a section of "I'm Pleasantly Surprised That We Didn't Tip Over"-type road. So we called 'Triple A'... but once we walked up to where the truck had stopped, we noticed that it had one less wheel than before. Bummer.

Out of the Frying-Pan Into the Fire
Our driver tried to figure out if he could fix the problem, and after a few minutes a local guy came down the road and invited us to hang out at his house while we waited. He had a lovely home composed of two buildings with a stone courtyard in between, a common old-school Nepali layout.

A Short Rest
After a while we learned that our driver had called a mechanic who wouldn't arrive for several hours and that there was no way we'd make it home that evening. Upon hearing this, another local who was there invited us to sleep at her home that night, and we gladly agreed to. We took a very picturesque walk through banana groves and rice fields perfectly lit by the setting sun, and came to another beautiful village home.

Queer Lodgings
Our host's father came out to greet us and showed us a great time. He was a real character - probably about sixty or sixty-five and wearing a vest that would make any hipster bartender jealous. He also smiled when I took his photo, which isn't so common among rural folks.

An Unexpected Party
He talked almost non-stop from when we arrived until when we went to sleep four hours later. He told stories about everything from politics to his memories of countless Tibetan monks walking past his house during the diaspora in 1959 (the Dalai Lama himself came through Taplejung, the next district east of here). I wish I could've understood more of what he said, because he had everyone else in stitches.

We were given a great abundance of food, including tongba - a very taste home-brewed beer, shishnu - a soup of nettle, and a really fantastic curry of iskus (this one is ubiquitous here at this time of year - apparently it's called 'chayote' in English), string beans, and guava. There was also a rice dish, a specialty of the Rai ethnic community, which is somehow made with chicken feathers (!) and which, after facing the ethical conundrum of whether such a thing is vegetarian, I decided against trying.

Not at Home
We slept that night on the porch with a delightfully warm blanket (if there's one way that Nepal totally outperforms the US, it's in the field of blanket development). I slept more soundly than I have in a long time and woke in briskly cold morning air, just like the air back home this time of year. After tea we said our thankful goodbyes, walked back to the truck to find it almost back in working order, and departed shortly thereafter.

This is where things get interesting again. About a minute up the road from where the truck had stopped, we ran into another impassable uphill section of "I'm Pleasantly Surprised That We Didn't Tip Over"-type road. This time we didn't bother with 'Triple A', and instead got some shovels and started fixing the road. We ended up doing this in a few different places, but despite our best efforts the troubled wheel sustained additional damage. This time, the driver got out, briefly inspected the wheel, unscrewed the outermost piece, threw it in the ditch, and said, "Okay, let's go!"

We did make it back to Khandbari eventually, about five minutes before I was supposed to proctor an exam at school. It was a fine excursion, through and through. If you happen to be in the area I highly recommend visiting Devitar. But take a motorcycle, not a truck.


The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

-Bilbo Baggins

21 September 2015

The Nepali Education System

In the last few weeks I've had something of a crash-course in the Nepali education system, and I'd like to share a bit of what I've learned in order to give some context for future posts about Surya Boarding School.

Firstly, public, government-run schools are (in theory) free, including the cost of textbooks in lower grades, and are available to students throughout the country, but attendance is not universally enforced. Most people place a high value on good education, but in rural areas some students are compelled to quit and work at home. These schools use the Nepali language as their teaching medium, except, of course, in English, which is a required subject for all students. The quality of these schools is generally thought to be inferior to that of private schools, and in my limited experience I have found this to be true.


The heavily earthquake-afflicted Himalaya Higher Secondary School
Private schools, on the other hand, are run by many different organizations, ranging from Cambridge University, to religious charities, to some person with extra money and a kind heart. They obviously vary in quality, but are regarded as being the preferred option for those who can afford them. At my school, which typically ranks second or third in this district by student exam scores, fees for first-time enrollment and one year's tuition for a kindergartner total less than $100, but unfortunately this is prohibitive for many families. Many/most private schools use English as a teaching medium. This is problematic, because students are limited in their ability to understand new materials by their level of English fluency. However, English-medium schools tend to yield better results than those of Nepali-medium schools.

A typical Nepali classroom
The division of levels within schools is a bit different than the American system. Grades 1-5 are Primary, 6-8 are Lower Secondary, 9-10 are Secondary, 11-12 are Higher Secondary (sometimes referred to as "+2"), and beyond this the same university levels apply. At the secondary level, the compulsory subjects are: Nepali language, English language, social studies, math, science, and "Health, Population, and the Environment." Optional additional subjects include economics, management/accounting, computer science, geography, history, and agriculture, but not all of these are widely offered.

Nepali textbooks
At the end of secondary school, students take the School Leaving Certificate (SLC) exam, which is a lot like the SAT/ACT but covering every subject. The results of this test are of central importance for students who continue their education. Starting in higher secondary school, students take a concentration according in large part to their SLC scores.

Bachelor's and Master's programs are available in larger towns throughout the country, as is the case in the US. In Khandbari, which is the relatively small headquarter of Sankhuwasabha District, I know of two colleges. Unlike in the US, however, this presents a great obstacle to students from rural places. Given the condition of Nepal's roads (or, in so many places, lack of a condition), university students from rural areas are obliged to either rent a room in town or live there with relatives if they can, but, unfortunately, many can't make the financial cut. A decent price for a small rented room in town is $20 per month, while the common practice of renters taking two daily meals with some other family costs about $60 per month. I think it'd be difficult to spend less without having some help. That cost alone, not including tuition and other expenses, exceeds the per capita income in this district.

College-level classrooms at Himalaya Higher Secondary School
Definitely not James Watt


I've mostly been studying the materials for English and social studies classes, but in these two subjects, at least, I've been impressed by the rigor of the curricula. Although some textbooks have frequent and, occasionally, hilarious mistakes, the overall quality is not bad, considering that they were created entirely by non-native speakers. The courses are designed such that students cover more-or-less the same topics each year, but with increasing depth and complexity, like how we all learned math - first algebra, then trigonometry, then calculus, and so on. Eighth graders study all the major rules of English grammar and must answer straightforward questions, while tenth graders study the same rules in greater depth and must answer nasty trick questions like those we might find in the SAT. My only complaint about it all is that some discriminatory biases, which are addressed in the social studies curriculum, find their way into the books.




I'm not sure if this is a mistake...
...or just sexist
The toughest thing for me to see in the Nepali school system is how discipline is enforced. Students are held to a much higher standard of behavior than in American schools. Indeed, I think many American students couldn't handle it. They are expected to stand whenever they speak, to always show great respect toward teachers, and to be paying attention at all times in class. To a an extent I think this is really beneficial, but my problem is that if they are found to be misbehaving they are usually given either a threat or a beating. This last bit, I think, warrants more discussion at another time.

Unrelated clouds
That's all for now. Lately the days have been sunny and quite hot, and the nights have brought extremely heavy rain. The clouds are slowly receding though, and the long-awaited end of the monsoon will come in a few weeks. I think everyone is looking forward to it.


Silent in the dark
The old man sits, watching me
Spill half of my cup

29 August 2015

Arriving in Khandbari

Today I learned that the “a,” “f,” “g,” “j,” “l,” “2,” and “/” keys on my laptop’s keyboard no longer function, so when I type without correctin ny mistkes it ooks ike this. This wi be diicut...

This is the start of a journal about my work and adventures living in Nepal. If you know me personally then you’ve probably already had to listen to me blabber on and on about this country, and if not then this is your opportunity to join in the fun. I’ve come here to improve my Nepali language fluency, gain personal- and work-experience, further my spiritual and educational growth as a student and practitioner of Buddhism, and because I love this country and had a really good time living here in the past. I hope that I can be of some benefit here through my work as well, but we shall see in time. The journal will start with my coming to Khandbari, in the Eastern Region, to work at Surya Secondary Boarding School. My job is to teach upper-level English, topics in Western history and culture, and some emergency medicine, according to my limited ability.

So it begins. I arrived at Tumlingtar Airport on Sunday afternoon and was met there by my host Shankar, a friend of his, and the principal of Surya School. After going through the necessary airport formalities (taking my bag from the pile of luggage [I can only type two of the letters in “luggage,” ha!] on the tarmac and writing my information in a logbook for foreign visitors after a policeman happened to notice me walking away), we drove in a small motorcycle convoy for about half an hour uphill to Khandbari. This was my first ever motorcycle ride, but I played it cool and only thought I was going to die a little bit at the beginning. This main road was actually pretty solid, better than most roads at home, and there was a big national strike that day (the day before that nasty incident with the protests in Kailali, for those who follow Nepali news) so we were the only ones out driving.

We arrived in Khandbari and I spent the afternoon making a fool of myself trying to speak Nepali with my new host family and neighbors. It’s good to be back, and I get the impression that people have a positive opinion about me once they know why I’m here, as this school has had American teachers come in the past. I have to get used to being stared at by everyone, since I’m probably the only Westerner living in this town (the population is 25,000-50,000 people, depending on who you ask), I’m blond-haired, an extreme rarity in these parts, and I am, even by American standards, somewhat of a giant. Anyway, the town seems quite safe, peaceful, prosperous, and even clean! This area is far from the epicenters of the earthquakes that plagued the country several months ago, and Khandbari only lost a few dozen buildings out of, I would guess, several thousand (though many more sustained minor damage). I suspect the destruction is much greater in the surrounding countryside where fewer buildings are of modern architecture, but I haven’t yet ventured out of the town’s central area to see for myself.

My accommodations here include a good-sized room on the top floor of a three-story house with windows overlooking a portion of the main drag in town, and meals provided by Shankar’s wonderful wife Sajana.

A bit spartan, but nice 
I share my hallway with two renters, Nabin and Dichandra, who work at different banks in town. Half of this top floor is outdoors, directly facing the Makalu range of the Himalayas, and will have an inconceivably righteous view once the monsoon clouds pass in October. Right now the mountains are mostly hidden, revealing themselves only enough to remind of their presence. On the first floor lives Shankar’s family - Sajana, Shankar, his two sons Saugat and Sanis, and his parents, who are currently visiting from their usual home in London. On the ground floor is the kitchen, a small courtyard, a chicken coop, and a textile store, run by Sajana, facing the street.

Right outside - Gai Jatra dancers blocking the road
The morning after my arrival, in perfect form, I puked out my meal from the previous night, thereby losing some serious street-cred that I had tried to earn by eating tons of daal bhat (lentil soup, rice, and miscellaneous side-dishes, the staple Nepali meal) with my hands, in the Nepali way. I felt pretty bad, but the strike was still happening so schools were closed for one more day, and I resolved to drown my sickness in sleep and water. About ten minutes later, a teacher from the school came to tell me that they were opening in spite of the strike and that I should come with him. I was feeling a little better, so I went, thinking that I’d probably just observe classes on my first day anyway. About ten minutes later, I was taken to the 9th grade English class, introduced, and informed that I would be teaching their class, by myself, starting right then. This day was just full of surprises! I fumbled my way through the class, and given my illness and complete lack of preparation, I think it went well enough. The next day I felt much better (I think I just had some bad food in Kathmandu), and I’m starting to settle into this new rhythm. More to come shortly….



No horizon here
Only the place where mountains
Dissolve into clouds