the birth of sweatsuits

The Twins...aka...the Rosemees...aka Green & Blue


The day Britta & I carried 100 lb Rice bags in the streets of Naranghat


The kiddos having more fun with the rice than we did...


ABC flashcards! [from L: Blue, Radika (in pink), Buddee (red), Secil]


This past Saturday, January 26th, Britta and I walked to town right when we woke up, to buy some much-needed biscuits (tasty crackers) and check our e-mail. Upon our arrival back it seemed that the entire village had congregated inside the confines of our orphan home to witness a) two baby goats being born and b) the farming of the catfish farm. Big day. Especially when cooking meals, cleaning clothes, going to school, wwf wrestling, and cutting vegetables is about the most excitement this village life tends to get in one day. Now there were 6 adult Nepali men netting enormous catfish and our babies helping the goat babies try and stand up or nurse from their mother. Both the fishfarm and the goats are two great examples of the orphan home's sustainability: selling fish and goats for food. Excitement filled the air as sells were made and a new mother became protective, and at least for a couple moments, Britta and I weren't the objects of everyone's gaze.

This has proven to be the hardest part of our time in the village thus far. We are absolutely loving the kids...even the one we have called bratface..to her face (because she deserves it of course (: )...love the spicy food (oh the tolerance I'm creating), have gotten used to the pig's smell, and that of our own, have grown to love the lice-invested oldman stocking hat that sits atop the toddlers' heads like the Hogwart Sorting Hat as it swallows them whole, can't help but joining in on the kids' efforts to run the chickens (kukaras) out of the garden and back in their home, and have made our own personal touch by teaching the younger kids how to fist pound (they already knew high fives, so we thought we would bring a different American greeting to their attention); however, we have yet to get completely used to all the stares and laughs.

So we just focus on all the other things that we have grown wonderfully accustomed to and the ways the children have held our hands and surprised us with cuddles. We are hoping that the longer we stay the less freakish and other-worldly we will become, and we are convinced that the good night kisses the younger 5 give us when we tuck them all into their one bed will be more than enough to counter the former even if it continues.

As for those 5 kiddos we so adore, I will briefly touch on two of them here: our twins, Rosemee and Rosemah. But there is a problem. You see, ever since we got our minds around all the names of the children, we were told that one of the girls was Rosemee and one was Rosemah (nicknames: Gonga & Jamuna), but all the children kept on getting them mixed up and the girls themselves respond to all four names. By no means are they identical, so we were quite perplexed by such a dilemma. Nevertheless, we still don't know which child is which. And so, unfortunately, Britta and I refer to them as Blue and Green because, again unfortunately, the sweatsuits that you see in the first picture are the only pieces of warm clothing for either child. Neglected? Perhaps...I have definitely thought so at times; however, it's difficult to bring my Western view of every child's right to have 10 different outfits to a village in Nepal where one outfit is all that's really needed, and next winter (their winters are not long) they will be handed down another sweatsuit...better be green and blue.

For the sake of clarity, this blog will refer to them as Green and Blue, and as our confusion hopefully melts away, I will give them their more worthy name titles. I haven't been around too many sets of twins to be anywhere close to an expert, but it's been interesting to watch these two girls and their utterly contrasting qualities. Green is the sweeter, more emotional, sensitive sister with the softest features and kindest smile (when she's not crying), and Blue has these eyelashes that I would swear were fake if she wasn't a 3 year old orphan and crazy devilish hairy eyebrows that replicate her extroverted, attention-seeking, bully nature. As I mentioned before, these girls are definitely more overlooked than the majority of children, but Green far more so than Blue because of her natural introvertism.

Britta and I have realized in these short 2 weeks that one of our roles here is to be Green's advocate. So we defend her when the other youngsters hit her and poke fun, and we sweep her up in our giant arms when we see a tear forming. I have often thought how difficult it would be to be such a sensitive loner surrounded by 14 other siblings with two very unaffectionate parent figures. She seems lost by nature, and now by circumstance she is nonexistent to some. We have cleaved to Green much more so than her devilish punk of a sister (even though she can be pretty darn adorable most of the time) for this very reason. We hold her hand and sit with her alone in the fort to hear her ramble on in Nepali. Get that girl alone and she's a talking fool. What an interesting social and psychological study these two girls would be in such a unique situation.

Britta has already mentioned a little about the absolute lovable Tulie and will finish updating about Ashish soon!

I should take this time to thank all of you who have so willingly offered to send packages for the kids; however, Britta and I have decided that it would be wisest for us to wait until we arrived back to the States to send things so that we will have the best idea of their needs. And one of the greatest difficulties is waste. There is no trash can or dumpster here in the village, so all trash literally goes on the ground to be swept away by wind or rain or eaten by the toddlers (: We will take as much of our individual trash back with us to Kathmandu, but to send several packages might prove to be more wasteful than desired. Again, thank you for the sentiments!

And speaking of big days...the baby goats celebrated their day of birth this past Saturday and we will be throwing a 'party' for Britta's 24th birthday this Saturday! The kids are beyond excited, and we hope to concoct a tasty cake..who knows what may turn out. So if you know Britta or just want to send her warm wishes send her an e-mail: schroeternater@gmail.com

Much love to all,
Becca.

meditating in the midst of wild things

Since Sunday morning, 11 of the 15 children (I misreported that statistic in a previous blog)...left for school. Since then, life here at the orphan home has offered somewhat of a consistent routine, but the nature of working with children means that nothing is really ever consistent or routine. But for the sake of taking you through the big picture of our days here...well, then here's a painting:

Britta and I have woken up every morning behind the children..we hear there waking voices and sometimes gentle meditations, then summon ourselves out of bed as well. Occasionally we join the children in yoga, but mostly we help get things ready for morning black tea (kalaichia) and daal bhat. The water is boiled on a gas stove fueled by bull dung (fascinating) and the rice and vegetables are cooked in our outdoor firepit. Since both meals take a couple hours to prepare, in the mean time we help with the children's English and math homework, and make sure Secil (the youngest school-goer) is dressed and ready to go. After the rice is hurried down our systems, we grab two hands and walk the kids to school (around 40 minutes roundtrip). 5 boys (Secil, Ishor, Mannish, Buddee, and Ramesh) and 6 girls (Samhaia, Radicka, Sima, Suneya, Sarswati, and Siryana...yes, so many S names) are school age...Ishor and Samhaia are Kumari and Primo's (orphan home mother and father) biological children (the reason for my statistic being off earlier). There are 4 rooms to the building: a large room with four beds for 13 children (the 5 smallest sleep on one), Kumari's family room with the TV that only shows WWF wrestling and Nepali sitcom/soap operas, our small volunteer room, and the kitchen.

Through neighbors' backyards, past many curious eyes, and across rice fields for short cuts (if we are running late), and then we say goodbye with high fives and smiles. On our way home we always pass the same bull that just stares and chews his cud...he always reminds me of a laughing Falcor (the Luck Dragon) from 'Neverending Story.' Our four stay-at-home toddlers (Tulie, 18 months, Rosemah and Rosemee, the 3 year old girl twins, and 3 year old Ashish) usually spot us from afar, and yell out a welcoming, "Mith, Mith" ('Miss' with a lisp).

During the late morning, early afternoon, we read stories to the kiddos including Dr. Seuss favorites and 'Where the Wild Things Are' (we actually had a wild ruckus with Max this very morning...they loved it!), play with countless balls, blow bubbles, practice our numbers and ABCs, and there is always that time of the day when the 4 of them invite us into their fort and whisper the secrets of the universe into our ears (of course all in Nepali which they're still convinced we know). Every other day or so we walk to the town to try and check e-mail and write these stories, but most days, like today, we arrive only to find out that electricity won't be on for another 2 hours (because electricity, or bijuli, is only on an average of 6 hours a day...and it's never consistent (: )...so we wait, walk around, buy peanuts from the smiling Peanut Man that stain our hands a rusty red, eat biscuits (cookie/crackers), and wait. We walk back to another ecstatic greeting from our 4 kids, take a break to read a novel, make afternoon kalaichia, and help Mother Kumari feed the bull (baisii) and look at the pregnant goat (backra...the kids love that this sounds like my name).

Around 4pm the school kids come back, and we immediately start up dinner daal bhat. Britta and I have been entrusted with preparing the cauliflower (cauli), potatoes (allu), and spinach (i forget the word). We will play games with the older kids, they will help us with our Nepali, and then it will get dark. Some nights we won't have electricity which makes Britta and me champs for bringing our headlamps--what an aid in washing dishes by the well. We sometimes join them for a Nepali soap opera if the electricity is strong, but mostly just enjoy nightly meditation and dancing...that's right...they love when we get up and do the hippiest dance we can think of. We say goodnight, read our novels, and layer up. It has been a chilly 35-40* at night which wouldn't usually be a problem, but, uh, we have no heat. Last night Britta and I took pictures of how ridiculous we looked. She had 5 layers on top, and I was completely outfitted, minus ski pants, for a day on the slopes. So we sleep soundly looking like older, taller, female versions of Randy from 'A Christmas Story.'

It has been an adjustment the past week getting used to a slower, more simple way of life. It is the nature of Americans to need an agenda, fulfill a task, and feel insecure in the midst of silence. I must admit that I have felt similar jitters of 'wasting time' and feeling 'insufficient.' But the patient way of living that Kumari, the children, and our village neighbors are teaching me is slowly settling me into a pace that is more appreciative of time spent reading a book or writing or hearing Ashish say his ABCs or watching Tulie laugh hysterically when I call her Tulie Bulie or learning how to smash tomatoes and chiles into salsa. God is good to give me such rest and time to be aware. I am beyond thankful.

Britta is hoping to make a post of our favorite, and only, baby, Tulie. My next post I hope to cover the two contrasting twins: Rosemee & Rosemaa.

I will say adieu with a quote from Annie Dillard's 'Holy the Firm' that Jon Krakauer uses in his book, 'Into the Wild'...it's the best thing I've read in a long...long time:

We sleep to time's hurdy-gurdy; we wake, if we ever wake, to the silence of God. And then, when we wake to the deep shores of time uncreated, then when the dazzling dark breaks over the far slopes of time, then it's time to toss things, like our reason, and our will; then it's time to break our necks for home.

There are no events but thoughts and the heart's hard turning, the heart's slow learning where to love and whom. The rest is merely gossip, and tales for other times.

Until next time,
Rebecca 'Maya' McNeil.

Immersion

Monkey Friends at Pushapati


Secil, age 4...we both want to take him home


One of our first days with the kiddos


Ashish...seriously, those eyes.


Our first art day

Preface #1: To say that internet is slow and fickle here in Bharatpur is a vast understatement. Therefore, we will try and post as much as possible, but unfortunately, it may be very sporatic.

Preface #2: Everyone should definitely check out Britta's blogspot
http://www.morethanmountains.blogspot.com/
because we will be writing about different children during our stay in Harka...and she'll have some different, completely adorable pictures up!!


Sunday, January 20, 2008

There is a novel somewhere hidden in the past week we've been in Nepal...at least one. It begins in our last full day in Kathmandu when we spent the morning with Guru (who served as both our K-du contact and a true man of intellect) giving us a crash course in Nepali which has come in handy at the orphan home. With our years-out-of-school minds trying to catch up with the rest of our body, Guru hurried us around a noisy, crowded, polluted Kathmandu to see three of Nepal's most visited, celebrated temples. The first was a combination of Buddhism & Hinduism which I found quite fascinating along with the fact that some believe that Buddha himself was a reincarnated Hindu god. The next temple was strictly Buddhist where prayer flags served as both decoration and a religious offering--a spritual discipline, and where we had the surprising opportunity to observe Buddhist monks begin their afternoon ceremony. But none of these things compared to the shock and honor we received when we went to the Pashupati Hindu temple. It is one of the four holy places for Hindus (2 in India, 2 in Nepal). It was there as we walked along the sacred river that we witnessed a funeral pyre. It is considered a great honor for Hindus that when they die, they are brought to Pashupati and their ashes are then swept into the river. I didn't feel worthy...or prepared to be in the presence of such an event, but then 3 small children playing chase in and out of the somber crowd gave me a more balanced sense of life and death. There is no doubt that all of my senses were alive that day: the touch of the prayer wheels as they turned beneath my fingers, the smell of smoke as a body returned to its scared dwelling awaiting it believed reincarnation, the sound of transportation demanding their authority with horns of all rhythms, the sight of vibrant colors that hung off beautiful dark skin and hair, and the taste of Nepali tea..you just have to come and taste it yourself to understand.



I have come to the realization that to be a part of a global family, the community of humanity, one must become an observer--working always to make every sense alive to the pain, smiles, landscape, moments of absolute peace, and brokenness in a culture and people. What better view can one have than sitting next to the bus driver literally on top of the engine. I'm a strong believer in public transportation--there is no other place that one can get a more honest picture of a society than on public transportation. And so it turned out that the only 2 seats available on the bus to Chitwan weren't actually seats, but spots next to the windshield and stick shift. As if we didn't stand out enough already, our long-legged selves made a scene in the 99.9% Nepali passenger bus. Their sweet smiles and quiet laughter was fitting for the day that took us to Harka Sustainable Orphan Home, and one can do far worse than having to stare at a beautiful group of Nepali people from one view and mountains, rivers, bridges, and waterfalls from another. After several hours of my back gnarling from such conditions, an Australian 7 year old girl and her mother (the only other non-natives) offered one of their seats for my relief. Bronte, named after the sister authors without the A accent, spoke with what sounded more like a Cockney British accent than one from Down Under. She had traveled the world with her mother and her knowledge of different cultures was a just reflection. For example, as I was writing in her "Friends Around the World" notebook, I told her that I was from Memphis, TN. I asked her if she knew who Elvis was and she answered, "Why yes, he died on a toilet" (Mentally say this in a Cockney accent). Bronte just warmed me up for the eccentric and hilarious children I was within hours of meeting...



The bus dropped us off right outside of Bharatpur, where we were to meet the orphan home mother, Laxmi. As our last bag fell from the top of the bus, a small, loud, excited Nepali woman came to embrace us and immediately shove us with all our luggage onto a rickshaw (a tricycle carriage common to Asian cultures)...(if you're having a hard time picturing 2 women averaging 6'0" together with all their luggage stuffed a small rickshaw...don't worry, it was difficult for us to understand as well...and harder to balance!). The strongest Asian man I've ever met rode us 1/2 mile down a bumpy gravel road before Laxmi caught up with her purple motor bike to take Britta the rest of the way on the back seat. After the strongest Asian man alive was about to pass out from exhaustion, I jumped off to walk the rest of the way getting a more patient view of the small Harka village and our new neighbors. Suddenly, several smaller bodies with booming "Namastes" came to hold my hands and usher me inside. Laxmi hurried us (something that has become quite commonplace) to sit down and before we knew it we had introduced ourselves to all 13 children... "Tapie ko nam k ho?" "Mira nam Becca ho." "Timmilie berda kusilayo." (Nice to meet you). But don't be fooled, Britta and I were not the fluent Nepali speakers we are today...we were 0 for 13 getting the 'nice to meet you' phrase down. And it has been pretty much like that since: baptism by fire. Such immersion has made us feel like we've already been here for weeks. Everything from learning how to make black tea in the morning, helping cook dal baht (rice, soup & veggies...which is the only 2 meals everyday), sitting in on 7am yoga, washing dishes by the well, wiping snotty noses and cleaning scabbing wounds, perfecting the squatter toilet, and teaching English only by learning Nepali has come together as the ultimate education. 9 of the 13 kids go to school everyday, but this entire week has been a holiday...so that means we had 13 taps on our windows when we stepped in for a rest and 13 eager personalities studying our every move. We took the opportunity the other day to pass out 1/2 of the gifts we brought including soccer balls, toy cars, balloons, jewels, colored pencils, and a top. And 1/2 of those toys are already broken (: I don't think Britta or I could have ever imagined how much volleyball we could possibly play with a couple soccer balls or how obsessed children would be of balloons. Ashish, the 3 year old charmer whose eyes have more charisma than any other lady's man, never misses a chance to tug at our pants and whisper, "come...ball." He smiles and we follow.



A few fun facts in our first couple days at Harka include: there may not be hot water, sinks, showers, or toilet paper, but there is occasional electricity and a small tv...and the kids' favorite channel is none other than WWF wrestling (Pete, tell Cedric it made me think of him (: ). Also, there really is nothing cuter than watching a 1 year old do her OM meditations at night.



As I was holding that 1 year old, Tulie (Siryana), this morning I was thinking about love. I was thinking how it surpasses any definition or expectation...that is exists in gathering those who have been forgotten by society and/or circumstance in one's arms and showing them worth through tickles and kisses and cuddles. But in that moment, I saw more clearly that love is more palpable in the way these children who exist off of laughter, hide & seek, and rice, so freely usher the likes of me into their family. Who am I to deserve such inclusion, such union? Ah, and the paradox of grace continues to unravel its unexpected nature.



And so Britta and I will be here for the next two months except for an escape to the National Park for a safari weekend. We're scheduling that 1/2 through our stay to secure our sanity and bathe. More stories to come.



Much love to all,
Rebecca (Maya..my Nepali name the children just gave me).

the art of getting to nepal...

and a messy piece of art it is indeed.

Friday, Saturday & Sunday
January 11, 12, & 13th, 2008
(excerpts from a weary wanderer)

I sit here next to a big plant waiting on yet another flight in Dubais. At 1:10am, this unexpected stop reminds me of Times Square on New Years Eve. It's a flurry as each person scurries to destinations all over the world...literally. My seven airports to get to Kathmandu (a personal record) have been the upscale version of all my many Greyhound adventures in the US.

Even though traveling around the world makes one painfully aware of how alone one is, it also has given me 3 days to watch--to be the scopophile I truly am. So whether it was the Indian baby girl with eyes as big as buckeyes, the African American women who informed me in Memphis of my canceled flights and quickly reconciled my noticeable angst, the teenage Pakastani girl with her RunDMC tee shirt and her gentle father who wished me safe travels, the African boy with the long neck that kept peering past his mother's shoulder, the efficiency of the Dutch, the gossiping Philipino flight attendant, or the Japanese man who so fittingly fulfilled his stereotype by videotaping the airport, I have had my eyes and ears open to snoring, laughter, eye color, and the brilliance of languages.

The sun set on Memphis as I said 'adieu,' making the Mighty Mississip a mixed hue of pink, orange, purple. By next morning, the water's horizon outside of Amsterdam allowed the new sun to break its surface. With all of my hatred fueled to the act of traveling by plane, sitting atop clouds has never ceased to amaze me. i can only imagine that this is where fairy tales are created--in the midst of clouds, in the neighborhood of stardust. One's creativity can't help but dance at such great heights.

The rare moments of silence, conversations with stars, glimpses of hope and adventure, pauses of contentment, and prayer for guidance and strength are what I try and focus on instead of the oppressive emotions of loneliness, fear, soreness, sluggishness, etc. that are always inevitable.

Fun fact: I was literally the only woman on the plane from Doha to Bahrain, and one of three from Bahrain to Kathmandu. Um, strange. Just strange.
____
Monday, July 14th















And then I met Britta at our guest house. Planes were done for the time being, and I was able to catch up with a good friend. The months that remain ahead of us have only been seen with excitement by our contacts, Ashmira and Guru, here in Kathmandu. Within the confines of such a chaotic and colorful city of 3 million, both of them have greeted us as friends, as members of a global community. They work for the volunteer organizations that we are going through in Harka and have made our transition into such a foreign land inviting and comfortable by settling our questions and exciting our future time in Nepal.















The stares are frequent even as we stay these first few days in the tourist section of Kathmandu. Britta even got a, "you're tall," from a guy on the street. Observant, that fella. We will spend tomorrow in our language/cultural class with an added tour around the city. A couple scenes from today's travels can be seen here...We've already found a Walden Bookstore (seen above) because evidently Thoreau's influence has crossed over to the Himalayas--crazy Naturalists. And the 16th we're off to Chitwan to start our 2 month stay at Harka--hooray!!

and we're off...

I officially depart Memphis in less than 5 hours. Britta and I will be traveling separately, and meeting one another in Kathmandu Sunday night. I am lucky enough to spend a layover night in Doha, Qatar, with my good friend Mandy Plummer (Heller) and her husband, Eric!! How sweet they are to be so hospitable to a soon-to-be weary traveler.

We will be in Kathmandu for several days taking a language class, overcoming jetlag, and getting our first impressions of Nepal. I hope to send out a quick update next week!

Much love to all,
Rebecca.

contact info

I know that you are all dying to send us packages filled with hot tomales, stickers, and pictures, so I thought it was appropriate to post where exactly you can send these delectable treats...and evidently we're near a beer factory...good to know (:


Rebecca Smith / Britta Schroeter Harka Self-Sustaining Orphanage
(Near the San Miguel Beer Factory)
Ward No. 12, Nauranga, Bharatpur
Chitwan P.O. Box 61
Nepal


And for those of you who can't get enough of our sweet voices, this is the phone number (revised) to the orphanage:


011-977-056690167

one week

Welcome one and all!  

This website will be home to all of the many adventures and misadventures of Britta Schroeter and Rebecca Smith in the grand land of Nepal.  We will be arriving in Kathmandu, Nepal's capital, January 13th.  The first two months of our journey we will be living and working at Harka Sustainable Orphan Home in the Chitwan Valley (approx 2 hours south of Kathmandu).  

http://asia.kidsworldwide.org/nepalharka.htm

The above website gives some great information on the history, vision, and sustainable efforts of Harka...and gives you a better idea of where we will be and the children who will undoubtedly be making us smile and laugh too much.

Mid to late March we will start our trek to the base camp of Mt. Everest! I plan on stowing away a couple of boulders in my backpack for prosperity's sake (:  More details on our exploration will come as we get acclimated to our surroundings.

The idea is to keep all of our friends and family updated with anecdotes and pictures throughout our stint in the Himalayan Region.  And rumor has it that we will have internet connection in a village close to the orphan home, so be sure to send us comments and e-mails and stories from the America!!

Grace and Peace,

Rebecca.