Village visit

Last week I traveled to a small village north of here with my coworker, Raju, who is a physical therapist and disability rights trainer and advocate.

We took a bus four hours to the north. Luckily, someone had mentioned to me ahead of time that north of Hetauda means up. It went from 1500 feet in Hetauda to over 7,020 feet and got colder and colder accordingly. I had felt really self conscious about bringing two bags with me. My Nepali friends here travel extremely light- and think I’m pretty funny for bringing extra things. It’s not in my nature to travel light, however, I’ve decided. I can do it if I have to, but I’d prefer not to whenever possible. And boy, was I glad I had brought that second bag with my sleeping bag in it. It ended up being my saving grace during this trip as the small guest house we stayed in was fresh out of blankets – and rooms for that matter. But my coworker found another woman who had a bed free in her room so I had somewhere to crash.

It is still a bit nerve-wracking for me to take trips to villages, as I think of myself at this point in my life as a city girl. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around village living.

The hardest part for me in the village was seeing the poverty and lack of resources. The small guesthouse we stayed in was run by a really kind man and his son, who was maybe 12. I couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t in school, but rather was washing the tables, bathrooms, and helping to cook all day. I am sure that if they’d had the money and the option, he would have been.

The view of the mountains in the village was like nothing I’ve ever seen before here. They felt so large and small at the same time, close enough that I could feel them. Close enough to feel like if I closed my eyes and flew I could transport myself right over the valley and to them. Far enough that I didn’t sense the danger, remoteness or intense cold that mountains that is also part of mountains.
I felt absolute happiness in that moment and couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Time just stopped…

I’m learning to live with deep sadness and happiness coexisting here in Nepal.

We were in the village to facilitate a day long leadership training on advocating for disability rights with the central spokespersons of the village. At one point I was panicked about having to actually facilitate a portion of the day – in my broken Nepali (so very basic still) and my English, and my American-city worldview and experience. Luckily, the training started 3 hours late, and therefore I was off the hook. I was able to just watch and listen. Raju did a fabulous job facilitating – he is well loved in the village, and for good reason.

In the evening, Raju gave a wheelchair to a man who’d been having to walk on crutches everywhere. For a long time, I imagine. This was a big event in the village. Everyone who was around (and I mean everyone) crowded around to see the wheelchair, and to watch Raju give instructions on how to use it. This lasted easily a half hour- and no one strayed.

I felt more comfortable watching the mountains and headed off to catch a few pictures.

We left on the 3rd day early in the morning and had an uneventful bus ride back. I was quiet most of the way – just taking in the experience, resting, and enjoying some good Nepali snacks along the way.