after doing stints of literacy work with kids in new york and melbourne for years, i was surprises and heartened to find nepali orphans, who in many ways have the smallest fighting chance to overcome their circumstances, to be the most optimistic, the most pro-active and the most spirited of the 'disadvantaged kids' i have encountered.
this came about when a random street conversation with a nepali man who wanted to replicate my necklace turned into milk tea and a discusion about the work his brother, Jafar, and another friend, Sarin, were doing to help orphans and the elderly in nepal.
more tea. Jafar and Sarin run a foundation called Shed the Light, which is funded by an Australian woman using profits from her Op-Shop in Queensland. she had heard of Sarin's work - since high school he dedicated himself to housing, educating and warming the hearts of orphans throughout nepal - and asked him to chair her foundation in Nepal.
sarin with the oldest and the youngest of the kids in the orphanage
the next day i was in a beaten up taxi with Sarin on our way to Kiran Punj, where 21 orphans between the ages of 5 and 16 are nurtured daily by another beaming Nepali soul called Paul, and his wife.
the kids were incredibly polite, even masking their giggles and whispers in their best attempt at good behaviour. one by one we shared our names, our backgrounds, and i asked each of them to tell me about their dreams. they all had one... and not the 'i want to be superman' kind. they wanted to be paediatricians, math teachers, nurses, and they wanted to travel to australia, to new zealand, to italy. they wanted to learn computers, and to read books. they wanted to give support to other children and elderly in need.
i'd brought them new notebooks, which they loved in part because the back was covered in a big nepali flag. one girl who wanted to be an artist got a new pack of colored pencils, and a few others who were interested in photography got a crash course with my point-and-shoot and then had free reign to practise on each other. most of the pictures in this post are theirs.
when discussing sports they wanted to know what i liked. those of you who know me know the answer: nothing. unless these kids ever heard of a gym. but how do i explain that? will these boys be impressed if i say... "yoga"? so i did something i really shouldn't have done... i lied... in the name of setting a good example. i said, "well, i like running."
god, how i hate running. i have avoided it all my life. a run to catch a bus leaves me aggravated for hours. why this is the first thing to come out of my mouth, i will never know. except the next thing that happens is that sarin says... "great! let's have a race!"
squeals. before i could bend my mind into an escape strategy, the kids were running all over each other to put on their shoes (all placed neatly on shelves in the corridor), coax me out of my chair (where i sat in mild, painful disbelief), and lead me to an open field outside.
wow. how i fell in love with that field. huge and wide open, the healthiest of playgrounds, giving a sense of freedom and possibility to the locals of this nepali neighbourhood. finally, i was the only tourist for miles. everywhere were kids and kites and bamboo swings and a cow or two.
yeah, we raced. and i would have come only fourth-to-last if it wasn't for a technicality going around the human beacon - sarin - at the half-way point. i swear. and then they raced again; i was the beacon this time, and the next.
more photos. more fooling around. slowly we were becoming friends. some kids remained distant, of course. others let their questions surface, let themselves enjoy the company of a stranger. even let themselves hope out loud that i would be back.
and would i? as the sun began to set, sarin said he had better get me back to Thamel, where tourists belong. as we walked away, he told me that i was the first tourist he had ever brought there. and i wondered, will he regret it? am i that superficial do-gooder tourist who just checked a box on her travel itinerary? will i make time to go back and teach them how to take photos without a flash?
when i got back to Thamel i opened my notebook to where the kids had been scribbling. there, in beautiful neat handwriting, was a note from the kid who, if i were allowed to have favorites, would habe been the one. it said:
My name is Phebika. It was nice to meet you. Please don't forget me, O.K?
Your loving friend,
Phebika
Phebika
1 comment:
i know why you said. run. maybe. check your email.
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