Everest and the Toenail

Life in Kathmandu, Nepal

The Petro Peach Was On My Parched Lips

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For the last five months there has been little or no petrol in Kathmandu. Epoch making queues round and round city blocks, no idea where they end. Some of the cars abandoned and under tarps and covered in dust. We have made do, taking taxis, walking (when the air is not too foul), our technical mobility sputtering into tentative bursts of life until suffering from fuel starvation. I became part of non-formal economy, asking for 35 litres that were brought up on a bus from the boarder. At least we had something. The last delivery had been cut with water. Car was at the mechanics for three days, returned with new filter, etc and enough gas to get me south side where a friend had set me up at a gas station that filled up blue plated (INGOs, Dips. etc) cars. I had to drive it to the petrol station.
Phone rang this morning. Petrol. I thought about waiting for MB, my driver, but didn’t want to miss being filled up. I jumped in the car with Ewan, where I had spent the night after choir rehearsal in his flat. He negotiated my entry into the petrol station using the exit route and helped me reverse in. A huge crush of people waiting to fill bikes watching these bloody foreigners and government vehicles filling up without queuing. I avoided contact and manoeuvred my way backwards through the chaos to the pump. Fuel flap was jammed. Helpful fellow tried to prise it open with my Leatherman, blade snapped. He was levering at the hinges not the opening end. Didn’t care how much I got, or about the blade. Was amazed to find I had a whole tankful, drove out, cheering in disbelief that I had a whole tankful for the first time in months. Car stopped. Wouldn’t start. The same dirty fuel problem. With the help of police and on-lookers they pushed me across the madness of traffic down a hill to a quiet spot just beyond UN House. MB arrived, couldn’t start it either. I despatched him to find a mechanic and had a nice breakfast in the Bakery Cafe with Ewan. Mechanic arrived, with MB on the back of a bike. The mechanic emerged from underneath the bonnet and held out his hands. Diesel. I had filled the car with diesel not petrol. And the peach was plucked away from my open mouth.

Written by jamesaeoglethorpe

February 3, 2016 at 1:13 pm

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Baluwatar Riff

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Smokey morning light. Cold air sits on the face of the city, plugging in the toxins. A flutter of pigeons flaps around in a circle of panic, jolted from their perch by an anonymous threat. Under my feet the earth moves. A sudden noise from outside last night. A loud bang that shot past my defences and had me jittering and jiggering all evening. It’s down to the signal/noise ratio and sometimes I revert to an instinctual momentary panic that sets off decreasing ripples of EQ angst.

The day before yesterday I spent six hours on a 286 words, four paragraphs. The next day I discarded them, freeing up the narrative. OceanTown came from two stories written as part of a trilogy. I am now in the process of merging them into a more cohesive whole, a new piece with echoes of the original. I discovered yesterday how to merge existing material with the new narrative tone and structure.

The CoP is out for a night or two, attending a training workshop, leaving this morning. I have a shorthand, a compressing of the process of coming to terms with being alone that allows me to relax into this new, brief spell of a solo walk in the woods of words.

Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2zIW8qDPhos

Written by jamesaeoglethorpe

January 8, 2016 at 11:03 am

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Happy New Year

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Happy New Year! Arrived back in Kathmandu last night, rather dreading returning. It’s our last year so the end is in sight. Was not looking forward to 14 hours a day without power, little petrol, etc. But this morning Renu, Maya Didi and Manbahdur, are back on station too, so there is the reassuring sounds of domestic work being undertaken – I shall miss my staff very much. The house was immaculate, tidy and clean and the suspicion that we we might not come back has gone and they were pleased to see us. There is so much here beyond the logistical difficulties to cherish. So while looking towards the end of the year, there is still much to celebrate in everyday living.

Working on a collection of short fiction – all but one story 2000 words or less, looking to make a collection of 25 ultimately, ten more to go. Wrote one long one, very dark, of 4000 words and am working on something that will be longer still – I am undecided about the length. My overall plan is to have a collection of one story, say +/- 30,000 words and a selection of shorter length pieces. Managed to keep writing during the break, short stints on airplanes and early in the morning so am not returning to it cold. Also reread work to date. It feels, at last, as though I have found a method of writing that suits me and has received recognition from a professional I work with. On their recommendation I am entering the longer story for a competition and/or have hopes to see it published in an anthology later in the year.

Smokey sunlight, cold, streets still quiet with far fewer cars. Off now to the shops and to replace my Sim card which I lost somewhere in the UK. The holiday was about family and we got to see almost everyone – a great pleasure and enduring series of memories to take with me as I begin living here again. Being the first morning back it feels a little like learning to walk again.

Written by jamesaeoglethorpe

January 4, 2016 at 10:58 am

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India: regional bully

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Outside on the street today I chatted to the drivers queuing for fuel. This man has no fuel to drive his school bus, the school is closed. At home there is no cooking gas, no petrol for his scooter, his children cannot get to school, even if it was open. Expand this out to a national level, apply it to industry, tourism, and every other aspect of Nepalese society, and one is looking at a nation’s economy, already frail and recovering from two major earthquakes, being brought to it’s knees.

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Why is this?

Peeling back the layers, lies and complexity it is simple. India is shutting off fuel supplies – at the moment all petrol and cooking gas comes by road from India – and other commodities to it’s small, vulnerable neighbour. Like bullies the world over the Indian Government is taking the coward’s way out by denying that they have anything to do with the problem: it is all the fault of the demonstrations occurring on the Nepalese side. It is a mark of how poorly India regards Nepal that it would think the people and the Nepalese government are so simple minded as to believe this. One boarder point is being blockaded by protesting Nepalese, true. But there are other routes into Nepal where the boarder is open but tankers are not being allowed to enter on the instructions of the Indian Government to it’s customs officials. In addition tanker drivers are facing harassment and their vehicles are being attacked.

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The internal Nepalese problem the Indian Government blames for the situation concerns the Madhesi people who live each side of the boarder. The Nepalese Madhesi feel they have been given short shrift in the new Nepalese constitution and are under represented in the new proposed Federal structure. All fair enough grievances handled by an old school leadership that believes that violence, strikes, intimidation, inflexibility and a refusal to compromise are the keys to a successful negotiation. So a legitimate set of problems, certainly, but handled by a leadership unqualified to negotiate the complexities of the situation, plus, a government that is arthritic and ineffectual in its handling of the demonstrations.

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The Indian government has legitimate concerns about the new Nepalese constitution — a secular state and not a right-wing Hindu nationalist one, etc. But after legitimately expressing their concerns that’s it. It’s Nepal’s constitution and if it is imperfect then it is Nepal’s imperfect sovereign document and nothing to do with the Indian Government. By throttling the Nepalese economy to try exert influence it is not only acting in outright contravention of various international treaties relating to the rights of landlocked countries, but interfering directly in the internal affairs of a sovereign nation. The silence of the international community on this is as puzzling as it is reprehensible.

It all represents a misjudgement by the region’s bully – ask Pakistan and the Maldives. Acting too late on seeking discussions on the Nepalese constitution, backing the losing Prime Ministerial candidate, fearing that unless it acts like a bully it will lose the support of Indian Madhesi and possibly lose an election all speaks of an Indian Government unable to express a cohesive, sophisticated foreign policy. So it resorts to the easy option. Bully the weaker party.

The border between India and Nepal is one of the only ones in the world where citizens of either country may pass freely without passports. In acting as it has the Indian Government has betrayed a deep friendship (both socially and economically) and is causing direct hardship to those relying on humanitarian aid. If they are not already, people will soon be going hungry and becoming ill and dying as drugs become more and more scarce. The country was already on it’s knees economically, just how much more suffering does India wish to inflict on it’s neighbour in pursuit of it’s own selfish aims?

Nepal has more than one neighbour. It is currently in discussion with China to provide 30%-40% of it’s fuel needs. Pushing it’s friend into the economic arms of an even larger neighbour is yet a further indication of a major foreign policy misjudgement by the Indian Government. But then bullies are rarely the sharpest kukri in the armoury.

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Written by jamesaeoglethorpe

October 28, 2015 at 12:22 pm

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KTM Basecamp Trek Returns

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Warming

Deep blue serrated ridge:

No cynicism or argument 

Pure, absolute.

Milky exhalation of lifeblood

Cascades towards a rising sea.

Ephemeral cloud descends,

A sensual script mirroring

Truth’s razoring edge.

Lukla, October 22, 2015

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Written by jamesaeoglethorpe

October 22, 2015 at 9:31 am

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Evil Can Wear a Compassionate Face

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I was fortunate this morning to attend a lecture: Orphanage Trafficking and Volunteering – The Hidden Tragedy, given by Martin Punaks, Country Director of Next Generation Nepal. This is my reflection on what he said.

Evil Can Wear a Compassionate Face

You have come to the Internet in search of an answer. How can you give back? You want to do something about the vicious poverty gap between the rich and the poor and the suffering of children. As a concerned, aware individual you want to act – this is very laudable.

It seems that orphanages in Nepal are crying out for volunteers. Great. Here is something positive you can do to make a difference. You were going to visit Nepal anyway. A certain site looks convincing and well run, with glowing references from people like you. You fill out the form. Ninety seconds later you are in. You are going to volunteer in an orphanage – how cool is that?

Well, it turns out not so cool.

More than 80% of orphanages in Nepal are fronts for child trafficking. You will pay child traffickers anything from $200 to $500 to volunteer in orphanages in Pokhara, Kathmandu or Chitwan. The staff will appear compassionate and the home well run. Everybody will love and appreciate your contribution. But behind the convincing front is a world of child exploitation, and by extension, exploitation of you, the volunteer.

This can’t be true, can it? Nepal is a gentle place. Anyway, people are not that evil. You see the pictures of big-eyed children, ripped from their homes. Beseeching, isolated, malnourished, they reach out to you. Ripped from their homes, yes. But not by death or tragic external circumstance like an earthquake, but by traffickers. Malnourished? Yes. Because traffickers starve the children. It makes for a more lucrative exploitation of you, the idealistic volunteer.

In Nepal, people see education as a way out of poverty. A friend, an uncle, a trusted member of the local rural community promises parents a good education for their children. For a price. In return the trafficker says he has arranged to send the children to a good boarding school in Kathmandu. Then the trafficked children disappear. Taken from their families, they vanish into orphanages run by the traffickers and helped by you, the nice volunteer. Often the children are never seen again. Some of them are too young to know what their family name is, or where they are from. Almost all have living parents or relatives.

The potential for all kinds of abuse in orphanages in Nepal is great. Sexual, emotional and physical abuse is common. Groomed children elicit money. Starved, abused and exploited, they are bait for sympathetic western souls with deep pockets. As a volunteer you imagine you will make a difference. You will teach soccer, reading and bond with the children, earning their trust and respect, and a relationship will form. Then after ten days, a month, you will leave. Bullied into fear, your new friends will have been too afraid to speak the truth to you.

By leaving you will be subjecting the child to the trauma of separation all over again. And no, it is not worth it for that scant, illegal time you spend working in Nepal. Any positives you may bring will disappear back into suffering when you leave.  After you have gone the cycle of exploitation, cruelty and misery will begin again. You, the innocent volunteer, will have ended up doing more harm than good, unintentionally inflicting damage when you wanted to heal.

Visitors to Nepal on tourist visas are not allowed to volunteer or undertake work of any kind. To do so is to insult the Nepalese people and the government. While this law is more often broken than observed, it is worth remembering. There is no place for unqualified volunteers amongst traumatised children. Without qualifications or experience would you be able to volunteer in a home for abused children in your country? So ask yourself. Why would it be OK in Nepal?

There are genuine orphanages run by qualified staff in Nepal, just as there are excellent volunteer agencies. There are also many alternatives to volunteering. Following the earthquake Nepal needs tourists to return. It doesn’t need untrained volunteers — the number of real orphans following the quake is low. Even if parents are dead, relatives and communities provide support.

As an educated tourist who understands something about the country you are more valuable than a volunteer. Research, learn, disseminate, keep a blog. These things have value. What you see and experience here is fuel for your life. A chance to educate. Go for high octane.

Volunteering is powerful. It provides a life-altering experience. Positive volunteer contributions are best made through formal, well-established agencies. But, beware, it will take you more than ninety seconds to apply.

You want to offer practical help? Fundraise for projects that support keeping real orphans in their communities. Create awareness of organisations like Next Generation Nepal. They rescue trafficked children from orphanages, rehabilitate them and reunite them with their families.

Don’t let child traffickers exploit you. The world is your oyster. Look elsewhere for the pearls. However much your conscience tugs at you, do no harm. For the sake of the trafficked children, don’t volunteer to work in orphanages in Nepal.

Written by jamesaeoglethorpe

September 25, 2015 at 8:39 pm

Snapshot: Disturbance

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A woman screaming in the road. I run upstairs and peer over the balcony. Black hair, mid-thirties, orange pants, long shirt and flip flops. I first thought she was letting go at two young women in less than modest pants and tops who had turned and were giggling. Throwing up her arms she turned to a tall gate and unleashed a fury of slamming, heaving the gate open and shut with manic force. She unleashed a stream of verbal fury at a passing motorcycle. The owners of the house came running out and barricaded the gate. Our guard and various passers by stopped to look and hastily moved on. Still screaming and shouting the woman turned and walked away, bow legged, shouting and muttering. Dogs barked as she made her way out of sight. Now all is still again, as though a huge boulder had been dropped into a lake of silence, and all that remains are these words, like ripples, fading away.

Written by jamesaeoglethorpe

August 24, 2015 at 11:31 am

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