Felicity Wright

Travels

Nepal Day 9: The Goat Gene

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Note to readers: If you’re enjoying these tales from Nepal, you might also want to check out my Facebook page, where I’m putting most of my photos and different “takes” on our trip.  (In other words, I don’t duplicate.) In any case, please keep the prayers and the comments coming.

Trekking through the rice fields on our way to the Hindu temple to Ganesh last week, I slipped in the mud and fell – not once, not twice, but three times. I blamed it on the fact that I was wearing Keen sandals and didn’t have walking sticks, assuming that if I were wearing the proper hiking boots and using sticks, I would be as sure-footed as … well … the umpteen children around me wearing flip flops and flimsy sandals, galloping up and gamboling down the hills like, well … mountain goats.

Goats. Jesus said something about sheep being better than goats, but it has never made much sense to me. Sheep are dull, stupid and self-centered. With sheep, it’s all about me. Bleat, bleat, bleat.

Goats are different – a big improvement over sheep. First of all, we owe a debt of gratitude to the goatish Pan, Greek god of music, nature, sex, and general merriment. Second, most of us would rather be a “kid” than a “lamb.” (In fact, as I approach senior status, I want to stay a kid for the rest of my life.) Lambs are for eating; kids are for playing. Yes, I’d much rather be a kid.

But that’s just the beginning. Several years ago, I was on a study trip led by a friend who is a brilliant and passionate woman whom we’ll call Aurora. Also joining us were twenty students and another close friend of Aurora’s whom we’ll call Linda. At one point, when Aurora was getting rather stressed about the various activities that weren’t quite falling into place, I asked Linda how she – being Aurora’s helpmate – remained unflappable. She answered, “Well, I’m just her goat.”

Linda was Aurora’s “goat”? — I must have frowned, so she explained that there is a long history of putting a goat in a stable as a calming influence for a racehorse. In fact, the term “get your goat” refers to the practice of trying to sabotage a rival’s horse by stealing his goat the night before a race, leaving the opponent’s horse nervous and less likely to win. Getting his goat would upset the rival horse’s owner, so the phrase has evolved into modern day language meaning to upset someone. The point is that goats are calming influences, good for Type A folks of all species. I was impressed by Linda’s insight, and realized that it was an apt analogy for much of the pastoral care required of therapists and pastors.

And, in Nepal this week, trekking here and there with the various children from the two orphanages we have been visiting, I realize that all of them have served as my “goats,” calmly leading me here, waiting for me there, happy, unflappable, sensible, wise, warning me when the path was slippery and reassuring me that I didn’t need to rush. Ranging in age from 10-20, each one of them has functioned as sherpa and encourager – in short, as goat. (Having said that, please don’t presume that I think of myself as a racehorse! An old gray mare – perhaps; a racehorse – not hardly…)

Today Carla, Kymri, and I joined Kent Rogers, his 2½ year-old son Evan, and his four Nepali-born teenagers on a long trek that climbed steeply up 1700 feet along slippery paths. I watched as the four young men took turns helping the three women and also carrying Evan on their backs. Several times, as they glided effortlessly down thin slippery paths with young Evan on their backs, my heart skipped a beat knowing how prone I was to slipping and winding up on my arse. But none of them had a false step or even a close call. Mountain goats for sure!

And so, it seems to me that being a goat is what the Nepali people are all about – calm, caring, and sure-footed companions on the journey we call life. If I had my druthers, I would take a dozen or so of the children we have met and weave them into a safety net that would surround me wherever I go.

For the truth is that all of the Nepali people we have met – old and young, male and female – are genuinely solicitous and protective of us and each other – even the children who decide not to scamper up the long stairs to the temple, choosing instead to trudge slowly up each long-hard-sweaty-stop-to-catch-your-breath step until we reach the top. The Nepali people are among the most loving and most caring people on earth. And watching their calm sure-footedness, I’m sure that all of the nicest people in the world have at least one gene evolved from mountain goats. (It appears that the people of Nepal have “got my goat.”)

Thus I am surprised that one of the highlights of Dashain (the chief festival of Nepal, equivalent to Christmas in the excitement it brings) is the ritual slaughter and happy eating of, yes, goats. All along the roads are large groups of goats (they’re not herds, because they’re too smart to be herded) collected for selling, slaughter, and sacrifice. In our various walks during the last week, we’ve seen too much of the dark side of the goat’s life. It had all the symbolism of the long road to Calvary and the surrender of Jesus.

Which makes me wonder: considering the origins of the many children at the orphanages we have visited, perhaps the goat/Nepali child analogy is more apt than I would wish. Too much slaughter; too much sacrifice. When will we ever learn?

At Loving Arms Children’s Home, we had a delicious goat curry for dinner today, but there was no sacrifice or blood. Instead of a ritual slaughter, Kent’s sister Nadine created a goat piñata filled with candy. As the children (of all ages) enjoyed the happy beating and scrambling for candy, it brought out the kid in us all.

For which we thank God!

The following pictures show the leading of castrated male goats to sacrifice. (Females are not used for the obvious reason, and non-castrated males are nasty tasting — no surprise…) After being ritually beheaded, they are placed in a vat of water, cleaned, and shaven.

We were fortunate that our pinata goat was beaten, but not ritually sacrificed. Also, I’m guessing it was a female, because lots of goodies came out of her.

Nepal-Day4 Afternoon and Evening

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Stepping back from our daily tasks at Ama Ghar, I keep thinking about the lives of the children (and of the staff). One of the girls told me that Bonnie was her equivalent of grandmother, mother, and aunt; she also calls me “Granny,” which I find delightful , enjoying the connection and affection that she offers me.

But I find myself getting uncommonly teary, overwhelmed both by the immensity of the need and also by the courage and selflessness of those who have devoted their lives to mitigate suffering, even if (perhaps especially when) it seems like they are just putting one finger in the dam to hold back a raging torrent of angry flood waters. Bonnie and Shrawan are just two in the phalanx of big-hearted and selfless people who give everything they have and are for those with less. I am truly humbled.

But I’m also horrified. Within a quarter mile of Ama Ghar, there are a dozen other children’s homes, each with 25-100 orphaned children. The war between the government and the Maoists is the primary cause, but so also are the roads, the disease, the child abuse. Some girls come after being freed from Indian brothels, where they are prized for their uncommon beauty. The cholera and malaria that orphaned Nepalese children of my generation has been upstaged by HIV and AIDS.

Growing up in an orphanage several decades ago, Shrawan’s hope is to share the dream of a better life with those who are orphaned now. Carla’s mother was an orphan and Carla herself was in foster care for a brief period (when both her parents were ill). Now she wants to share her love with children who live across the border from her San Diego church. She tells me that there are ten million orphaned children in Mexico. Ten million! How could this be happening?

The suffering, the stupidity, and the exploitation seem so enormous that I wonder if our world can exist much longer. How many more villages will dissolve into the sea before we get a grip on global warming? How many more orphans will grow up violent and hopeless, believing that victimization and abuse are the way of the world?

I don’t know. There are days when it all seems so hopeless.

But then I think of Bonnie, Shrawan, Carla, David Brown and the other folks from Wayfarer’s Chapel – and I think of the saints who have “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

And so we party!

BELOW:  The first photo is the whole group, with Shrawan in the Buddha shirt on the right.

BELOW LEFT: Mangal played the comb (right)

BELOW RIGHT: Srijana enjoys her special seat on the lap of AuntieBonnie.

Mangal playing the comb (he was great!)
Mangal playing the comb (he was great!)

BELOW: Carla, Santosh, and Fran

BELOW: Brian (another volunteer at Ama Ghar, but not part of our group), Srijana, Tina, and Carla:

Nepal Day 4 at Ama Ghar: Where Hope and Home are One

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Playing games and "hanging out"

Mending clothes
Taking a short trek to visit Buddha
David takes two boys bicycling
David takes two boys bicycling

Today, Thursday, is day 4 at Ama Ghar, the “Motherly Home” for Children in Taukhel, Godavari (about 11 miles south of downtown Kathmandu). It was founded by Shrawan Nepali, himself raised in an orphanage. Later, with the help of two Peace Corps volunteers he met in Nepal, he came to the US to get an MBA and pursue a successful business career.

Eight years ago, he started work on his greatest dream: to create a “motherly home” (“Ama” means mother and “ghar” is house) where children always “have the keys to come home.” He then convinced old friend Bonnie Ellison, who grew up in Nepal as the daughter of a U.S. State Department official, to take an early retirement from her work as an advertising executive and become the managing director of the home.

The first group of 14 children came soon thereafter and a dream became a home. Now, eight years later, some of the children have graduated into college and beyond (still returning “home” whenever possible) while others are still here, going to school, learning new skills, and finding hope.

Most of the children are not here; they are celebrating Dashain with their extended families. Lasting for two weeks, Dashain is the biggest festival of the year. Schools close, homes get painted, clothes and new furnishings are bought, and Nepalis basically think of nothing else. The holiday focuses on family reunions, exchanging gifts and blessings, and devotions. Those children who remain (about a dozen) are here because they have no home or, in at least one case, because the home is unsafe. So Bonnie and her able staff of “parents” try to engage the children in fun activities during their vacation time. We’re doing our best to help out.

In addition to the dancing and singing on our first night (just before most of the children left), we’ve been having a relaxed time with those who are still here. This means playing games, teaching them how to ride a bicycle, going on short treks to see Hindu and Buddhist temples, constructing a makeshift basketball hoop, and the like. Later today, one of the children has promised to teach us a Nepali folk song, and I’ve promised to teach them how to play the comb. (Bonnie and her staff may never forgive me, but what the heck…)

The pictures give a brief glimpse of some of our activities.

Nepal_Day 3

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Here are some pictures from the last few days. First, the group of us are in the Bangkok airport, waiting for the flight to Kathmandu.

On the flight, I was fortunate enough to get a glimpse of Mt. Everest. Look closely — it’s in the clouds.

That evening, we met with the children of Ama Ghar, who shared their music and dancing with us.

Young woman doing traditional dance
Young woman doing traditional dance
Some of us dancing with the people from Ama Ghar
Some of us dancing with the people from Ama Ghar

On Monday, we took a trek (about 5 miles) to a temple, and yesterday we went into town to get rupees and see some of the sights.  Today will be playing with children (lots of cards and board games) and — well, I’m not sure what comes next.

But the reality of the situation is beginning to hit home.  I showered this morning in cold water (all there is) and then decided to do laundry. This means hand washing in a large plastic tub. As I squatted and scrubbed, I could not get over the shameful disparity between my privileged life-style in the US compared with a life with few conveniences here in Nepal. We take so much for granted, most of all the idea that success goes hand-in-glove with exploitation. The more we exploit (of other people and the earth), the more successful we seem to be. Washing and scrubbing with the other ladies, agitating the laundry with bare feet, my eyes filled with tears at our need to exploit others in order to feel good about ourselves.

Around us at Ama Ghar are numerous other orphanages; it seems that the whole neighborhood is filled with children who have lost their parents to bus accidents, war, disease, drugs. I am in awe of the quiet calm courage of those many people (including those here) who have said adieu to complacency and comfort in favor of a life of giving, giving, giving — heart, body, mind, and purse.  I feel honored to be here.

Nepal — Day 1 and 2

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We arrived in Bangkok after 17 hours, had a 3 hour break and then flew to Kathmandu (another 3 hours).  From Los Angeles airport door to Kathmandu airport door, it was just under 25 hours. Today is Monday, I think. Carla and I are staying in the apartment, while the rest of the group is in the hotel. Yesterday, we had a welcoming ceremony with the kids. Today we went on a 4-5 mile hike into the hills to see the location for the new home (still under construction) and a temple.

No hot water, intermittent electricity, mosquito nets, hot and humid — BUT there are no complaints. The kids are wonderful, the country is beautiful, and the group is wonderful.

Day 2 (or 3) or whatever it is — Tuesday evening — Went into town, on vans that would accommodate 9 people max in US but take 24+ in Nepal.  Squeezed, hot — and understatement.  Tried to exchange some money. Saw a bit of the temple.  Went to a grocery story.  Walked a lot. Had more wonderful meals with rice, lentils, spicy sauces, etc.  So far so good!