It’s been a few days since the last update, but, dear readers, this absence has been far from dull. As the week continued, we finished up our preparations for the workshop this weekend on women’s sexuality and empowerment in the Nepalese context. Indira, my boss, wanted to shape the focus of the conference around the dissonance between Hindu culture, in which women are regarded goddesses and the creative force of the universe, and the actual Nepali situation where women are subjected to demeaning and demanding work. As Parjwal, Gokel, and I toured near Dhulikel yesterday, I noticed this peculiarity. Women were the ones doing the vast majority of the work: women made meals, women harvested, women cleaned, women carried. Men do work, of course; the work in the fields, in industry, in offices, on the roads, but when they describe their wives, their response shows ambivalence to what happens under their own roofs. Our wives, they say, don’t work. They stay at home. The irony remains that as to actual hours worked, according to the UN, women’s hours grossly outweigh men’s hours.
Changing pace and topic, yesterday, with my two Nepali friends Parjwal and Gokel, a student in public health and a medical student, respectively, I went to Dhulikel to see Gokel’s medical school and training hospital. Little did I know what they had in store for me. What began as simply an excursion to the Dhulikel hospital quickly became a spiritual odyssey as we journeyed to Nomabouddha, a newer Buddhist monastery, and the largest statue of Shiva in the country, if not the world. The Buddhist monastery once again affected me greatly; the scenery alone was enough to send a sense of reverence to the most hardened of Hitchens. It was built on what has historically been considered the den of the five lions; an old Buddhist myth holds that a young prince came upon the mother lion and her five cubs, and seeing them so hungry he gave his own flesh to feed them. The Buddha witnessed this, and reincarnated the young prince. What was most interesting to me was the reverence paid to the monastery by Parjwal and Gokel. While both are Hindus, both displayed the utmost veneration towards the Buddhas within the monastery. When I asked why, Parjwal explained that Hindus considered the Buddha one of the avatars of Lord Vishnu.
Parjwal and I returned to Kathmandu in a bus, and after that ride I will never complain about another Link ride again. It was crowded, sweaty, smelly, and… I loved it. There bus was designed for probably for forty people, but nearly eighty people embarked with us on this interesting journey. The bus ride took much longer than it should have, for we stopped nearly every ten minutes to drop some people and pick up some more. People even dared to crowd the roof. Holding on with clenched fists, they braved the dangerous, disparate roads of the Kathmandu valley. Secretly, though, I wished to join them. I have a strong desire to fully immerse myself, and if that includes riding on top of a bus, so be it. Parjwal promised me next time we would ride on the roof.
Before ending, one brief mention must be made on Parjwal and Gokel. These two young men are some of the most amazing men I have met. Both are so full of life and highly motivated, but most importantly, and paradoxically for the youth of this country, they have a strong devotion to Nepal and its people. After they establish themselves, they wish to start their own hospital. The paradox remains because the youth of Nepal by droves are attempting to leave the country, but these two remain. They refuse to give up hope. I think there’s a lesson here to be learned for me; just because the problems within your community, society, or country remain seemingly insurmountable, that is not a reason to run away.
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