FROM MY NEPAL JOURNAL
Today I met with our sponsored children at the Pegasus hostel which is on a hillside about 15 minutes from Boudhanath. Included are about 20 newly sponsored kids that I am meeting in person for the first time.
We gathered in a dusty, empty classroom with the kids all crowded curiously around me. One by one I call out the kids' names and then talk with that child about his/her sponsor(s), telling them something about where the sponsor lives and a little about that place, what they do, any hobbies they may have (if I know), family etc etc. All the kids listen rapt to every single child's sponsor-info. Every now and then, someone who simply can't wait any longer would pipe up and yell out from the press of the crowd, "What about MY sponsor?"
When we finish, we go outside and watch the boys play "football" for a while ( a loose version of soccer, I think). They are crazy for soccer, a recent craze, as I understand it. Arun can always be found out in the empty field that serves as a playground, running from one end to the other, yelling at the top of his lungs. Santosh and Saatman are also enthusiastic devotees. Santosh also loves Nepali rap music! and wears his baseball cap asymetrically, rapper style...but he is all innocence, so it seems sweetly incongruous. He is extremely talkative and given half a chance plies me with questions endlessly. He is not shy, despite what I thought when he first came to school in Kathmandu and seemed so intimidated. He asks me questions about the U.S., my religion, my life. " Did you ever see a snake, Didi?" (Didi means older sister and all the kids call me that) Um, Pardon me? "In your country, Didi, a snake." Well yes, in my basement in Iowa once and in my garden. "What is a basement?" (explanations ensue) "Didi, you must be very careful. Snakes are dangerous.But it is very bad luck to kill a snake." oh, our little green snakes are harmless, I explain. "The big, black ones you must be careful of." All the kids murmur in agreement and nod their heads. Santosh translates (for the smaller kids whose English is insufficient to follow the conversation in detail) about the green snakes and about basements.
We are out for a late afternoon walk through the nearby countryside and villages. I had decided to take a walk..it's so beautiful here by the hostel (which is like a little village itself)..such a relief from the pollution and chaos of Kathmandu. There is forest above on the hillside and below, farmland, terraced fields, stands of bamboo and a scattering of traditional village houses. Mr. Kinley's assistant Chodar had yelled to the kids "Who wants to take a village walk with Didi?" I figured no one. They'd been studying all afternoon (tomorrow morning they have their year-end Math exam) and I assumed they'd want to hang out with friends and play. Well..I heard a loud chorus of "Me!!! Me! I want to come! I do!" and a crowd came running. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by a crowd of maybe 25 kids, jostling, all talking at once (to me and each other), laughing and about half of whom seemed to want to hold my hand. There was to be an ongoing tussle and negotiation among the small fry (and a few of the older kids) for holding my hand. During the entire walk of maybe 1 1/2 hours, I had 2 kids each clutching a hand and a group around me chattering to me and each other; noisily, busily, happily. Some kids run ahead or up an embankment. It was a sea of chattering children constantly in flux.
I was being instructed in the Nepali names of things (flower, sand, stream), ordered to come see this small roadside shrine or that (tiny, rough temples off the footpath, half buried in foliage). All the kids would troop down, ring the temple bell, tika one another and me from the red powder adorning the resident deity statue and chatter like monkeys. Then we would tumble out and back to the dirt footpath in a noisy group, kids hanging from my arms. The children continued to drag me willingly along, peppering me with questions, observations, exchange of names (they like my name Pam), while I was working to remember the names of all the new kids and imprint them in my mind along with a face. It becomes a game. A child runs up and points to herself: "My name, Didi?" I'm getting better and better and make fewer mistakes. But we all laugh and no one has hurt feelings. I point to myself and ask: "My name?" (giggles). They in turn are trying to make sure they had mine correct. "How you spell Pam, Madam?" P-A-M "Very nice, Madam, what is it meaning?" Nothing really. What does Sangita mean? "Nothing, Pam Didi, just a name." Santosh proudly interjects, "Santosh means peace." Very nice! A small fry clinging to my hand and crushing my fingers says, "I love your name, Didi. I want my name (to be) Pam. It is too cute!" (she means very cute)
A small fry on my other side is rubbing the skin of my wrist and playing with my watch. She tugs on my arm to get my attention, taps a small finger on my skin, pointing to an age spot on the back of my hand and asks, "Didi, what is this?" Meanwhile, kids are running up the path in front of us, laughing and playing..a constantly shifting group running off to explore and back to bring me a wilted flower or to tuck some jasmine behind my ear (to the delight of all) or to drag me off to see and appreciate some new feature of the landscape..their landscape. We pass potato fields and wheat, buffalo grazing and goats. Wherever there is a house, villagers observe us as we pass, indulgent of the children and curious about this white stranger. Life and work goes on. Babies are carried as women bend in the fields. Old men crouch in the shade of their earthen porches, smoking contentedly. This is the most fun I've had in ages!
