Sunni Dawson

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Kathmandu, here coming!

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I was fortunate to spend about 5 months in Nepal from the end of May last year. You may have read my varied posts about my time there, especially post earthquake. I spent most of my time in Kathmandu, the capital, volunteering for a couple of amazing local organisations. This enabled me to begin my journey into understanding the depths and intricacies of Nepali cultures and peoples.
 

To say that Nepal is rich in customs and tradition is to say that the moon rises every night. Ritual, custom and tradition pervade every aspect of Nepali life. From 2 minute blessings walking past one of 5 temples in a 50 metre street, to morning prayers on holy sites, to customs not allowing women to enter kitchens or temples when menstruating, to almost daily celebrations of one god or another, to bowing to your elder relations entering their presence, to placing colourful chalk in the middle of your forehead when coming or going, to placing your mother in law’s feet on your head to show respect whenever you see her.

It is almost as if you need to be born in Nepal to understand all these laws. As an outsider it is fascinating to observe. And confusing. How do you know what to do and when? Luckily white girls are not expected to understand all these customs, otherwise I probably would have offended everyone. And customs vary throughout Nepal. Nepal is a very multicultural society, with over 120 languages being spoken today. Although the predominant religion is Hindu, religious practises tend to be mixed and blended with Buddhism, Animist and Indigenous traditions. 
 

Nepal’s diverse culture is very wonderfully demonstrated in its food. Of course, without a large serving of rice a meal is not complete in Nepal, but the types and tastes of curries, condiments and starters vary dramatically throughout Nepal. For a foodie, Nepal is a Restaurant of many assorted and wonderful discoveries. 

Kathmandu

Kathmandu, the capital and largest city, attracts people from across Nepal to work and live. It remains in a loud, bustling, beeping, chaotic state most of the time. Continued concrete square blocks sprawl across it’s valley with streets of dips, rocks and holes circling throughout. Travelling from one side of Kathmandu to the other is a feat in itself, especially by microbus. Microbuses are the city’s form of public transportation that are not for the faint of heart. Microbuses are little more than vans fit to hold 8 people somewhat comfortably, although in Kathmandu this comfort is stretched to a modest 25 or 30. Breathing is optional.

 

I don’t know if it’s the traffic lights, a present from the Japanese government, that grace the major intersections in silence, with Nepali Police Officers always and continuously managing the chaotic motions of motorised and wheeled contraptions, but there is something mesmerising about the constant push, pull and likely death at any moment roads of Kathmandu. 

 
But its Kathmandu’s largest temples and sacred sights that give the city it’s wow factor. I discuss my favourites in this video, my top tips for Kathmandu, and share at the end just one of the thousands of festivals and rituals that occur throughout the year. This one is a bit more special however, as it is the once every 12 year journey of the Rain God from Bungamati to Patan, the Red Chariot (made using no nails and simple woods and reeds) carries the god Machhindranath and is pulled for over 7 kilometres. A very special sight indeed.

There and back again…

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‘Where you go Ma’am?’

 
‘Kathmandu’
 
‘Kathmandu??? Ok, sit here.’
 
I take a seat in a small room in a building somewhat larger than a demountable, but barely so. I am surrounded exclusively by Nepali men. I watch these men. They are calm, at ease. Some were even bold enough to move to seats that were empty in our flight to this first stop.
 
These men have a confidence that I did not observe in the Nepali men as I left Kathmandu a month earlier. A midnight flight surrounded by eager, anxious eyes. They huddled together, not a hair space between them. Uncertainty in their faces as they fixed in an awkward makeshift line not daring to make a move towards the men in white sheets behind big fancy desks. Holding uneasily to their brothers’ side as they clutched their pink papers and little dark green books. 
 
Official men a foot or two higher emphatically point, as the brothers timidly shuffle towards the counter. They each carry a small stringed bag on their back. A couple of them carry a medium sausage duffel bag, their small brown hands each clutch a simple woven handle.
 
As I found my bag on the conveyor belt, I watched a white sheeted man shout at the young bai’s worriedly looking about.
 
 
This time, the journey home, I wait for my well travelled backpack to emerge from the 70s style luggage belt. I am forced to stand closer to the conveyor belt than I’ve ever been before as I watch the young men push against each other to get a glimpse of large TVs wrapped in cardboard and packing tape, and woven hessian bags over large square boxes.
At the Souq Waqif in Doha



This blog post contains some observations on the vastly different experiences living in Doha, Qatar and Kathmandu, Nepal. I would love to hear what you think!

 

Restaurants…

 
Sitting on a hard wooden bench, beeps of horns, traffic noise and the cool of a late summers evening after the rain. I’m comfortably wearing pants and a scarf around my neck. Bags of clear plastic water hang from the roof. I thought this was something mystical.
 
‘Its to keep away the flies, but I’m not sure if it actually works.’
 



I drink in the cool air and await the squidgy softness of the momos, soon to love my oesophagus and filter down into my appreciating stomach.

….
 
I maneuver myself ever so slightly, becoming just that little more precisely comfortable in my pink and green cushion striped chair. I clutch my steaming soy chai latte and watch the immaculately white robed men strut past, catching glimpses of sparkling silver watches behind their perfectly pressed cuff linked wrists. Jet black abayas follow behind, hints of fashion decorating slits of eyes, and pointed shoes.
 
Me in one of the famous Doha Malls

‘I go to the Mall to drown a few hours. There isn’t much else to do here.’

 
My driver’s summation of the tops things to do in Doha. The white glean of the walls and shimmer of the floors makes me want to reach for my sunnies. Loud shops and brighter advertising surrounds everywhere I look.
 

Transport…

 
I straighten my back and tighten my grip around the hard plastic handle behind. Tiny 1980s Suzukis just scrap my knee. Summer drizzle spreads over my rato gala, (red cheeks). We move between the rocky curb and cars in lightening pace. I stare at my drivers back. Its just better not to look up.
 
…
 
I place myself down with ease, gratefully breathing in the air-conditioned comfort of the Mercedes.
The Souq Waqif

 

‘Where would you like to go Ma’am?’
‘The Souq Waqif, please. Thank you.’
 
‘Is Ma’am comfortable?’
 
‘Yes, the air-conditioning is perfect, thank you.’
…
 
The bashed off white van rushes past, ‘NUTDISA, PARK, ICKABATE, BEROASDFNOT!’
 
‘GOLFUTAR?’ I hope that my voice is heard.
 
‘Yes, yes.’
This is the usual view in the microbus.
The people are literally on top of me.

 

I barely have time to put my right foot into the van before it zooms onward. I look around fruitlessly for a place to sit. The yeller points to a seat that is already taken. I look at him and the occupiers quizzically. They inch. I attempt to rest half a cheek down, ending in balancing most my weight on my bent left leg pushed against the side of the ‘isle’ chair besides us.
 
A minivan that would, in any other circumstance, fit 10 people relatively comfortably, now holds 25 bodies of varying sizes, pushed into each other like aeroplane overhead compartments, one jolt and its sure to spill. I try to find a space to breathe in amongst the saris and well worn shirts.
 
This is the ‘microbus’, Kathmandu’s primary form of public transport. It cost me 15 cents for a 30 minute ride.

A space to capture a relatively empty microbus – usually
there is no space to bring out a camera!

Evenings…

 



‘Nothing inspires like excess!’

 




My couch companion, Doha.

The TV blares out as I sit with a large curled up cat on an even larger sofa. The airconditioning is set to a perfect 23 degrees. I have a cup of ‘Love’ (my favourite Pukka herbal tea brand) and a cup of strong black beside me. I am nibbling on some organic dark chocolate with mint whilst cruising Facebook and watching for the first time ever ‘Keeping up with the Kardashians’. 

 
I switch it off in 10. For some odd reason I thought it may improve with the passing of minutes. Sometimes my patience and hope for something better even surprises me.

Traditional celebratory singing @ the Souq Waqif, Doha
….
 
It is 8pm and its pitch black. No wifi, computer battery is low. The windows emit a slightly lighter shade of incredibly dark. Monsoon rains hit the roofs above with determination, rivers pound the concrete outside.
 
I pull my blanket up closer and curl into it. Buzzing sounds surround the wafer thin sheath above my bed. Please let them be outside the net. I try to adjust my body to the hard surface beneath me. If I could just move myself in such a way that this bed could become comfortable. 
 
I close my eyes. Eventually I drift into dreams.
Back to Nepal, just a little contrast from Doha!
 

Going out…

I make my way through the wide eyed security guards on the lower level. I ask for the Belgium Cafe. The guard describes each exact step I need to take to get up to the first level.

Beach @ the Katara centre, Doha
 
Shuffling through the crowded smokey bar and not one abaya or thobe. But more white faces I’d seen since leaving Australia.

Is every ex-pat in Doha here? Well at least every ex-pat who smokes.
 
I join an ex-pat meet up group and scan the menu. Great, the cheapest beer: $15. Totally catering for white wages here in Doha and not long term travellers, obviously.
 

‘What do you do?’, ‘Where are you from?’, ‘How long have you been here?’. Conversations surrounding safe subjects echoed around me as I slurped my beer. 

….
 
Preparing a Newari veg feast for friends


The cement floor is bumpy and cool against my legs as I sit down. Dried leaf plates, flattened dry rice, small black translucent beans, potatoes and bamboo shoots, spiced tomato and soya nuggets, potatoes and green beans. Bite into the hard and soft.

Typical Newari cuisine, KTM



‘You like Nepal?’ a young girl asked me eagerly.
 
‘I love Nepal’, big smiles ensued by my fellow floor sitters. 
 
‘What you like about Nepal?’
 
‘So many things: the mountains, the friendly people, the food: I love khana and momos, the colour everywhere, colour in the women’s dresses, the diverse and interesting culture!’. It’s always when I describe the food for some reason I see the smiles around me grow to watermelon strength.
Love the colour of Nepali women!

Laughter, banter and fast talking follows. A young man picks up a guitar, croons a little louder as he awkwardly strums. He smiles as he sings out the words with more force. The hum of surrounding voices join in. Hours pass in group singing, clapping and joy with the moment. 



Morning routines…

The CBD at the end of Cornish, Doha
I throw the washing into the machine. I move the dial to the ‘Quick 30’ and walk out the door.
 
Its 8.30am. Sweat slides spontaneously down my back as I walk the 30 metres to the air-conditioned gym. Putting on my sunnies I crank up the running machine.
 
“The more I want the less I’m free.” My automatic response to my favourite hip hop song spurs out of me in my solitary glass walled exercise experience.
 
Kettle on, hummus opened, I munch as I fling the perfectly perfumed clothes over the hanger.
 
…
The Monkey Temple, KTM

 

Slap, slap, pause… slap. My wet feet uneasily slide across the polished stone staircase. 
 
I reach the top of the three flights without a puff.
 
The cool of the water splashes against my legs as I squat and methodically punch the clothes around the shallow green bucket.
The sun dances around me as I wring the clothes one by one and hang out to dry. Spotted clouds gather around the light blue sky. The cool air circles my body and I smile. Home.

View from my home in KTM.

 

Hey, Namaste!

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‘How do you say ‘hello’ in India / Hindi?’ I asked my friend as we were about to land in Bangalore.

 
‘Namaste.’
 
‘Namaste?’ I am not very reserved in my facial expressions, which elicited the following response from her.
 
‘Yes, it’s way over used in the west, but this is where it comes from.’
 
‘Wow.’
 
That was about 4 years ago. Since arriving in Nepal recently, I found out that despite the languages being completely different (and there are over 122 languages in Nepal) a lot of the Nepali language is derived from Sanskrit  (one of the worlds’ oldest languages and the liturgical language of Hinduism, Buddhism & Jainism), many words are used the same way as in India.
 
I always thought that ‘Namaste’ was reserved for the flowing robed, spaced out yoga peeps with supercilious smiles. And for the uber spiritual new age types that look a little too long into your eyes with expressions reserved for those painfully private toilet moments, expressing their deep knowing of who you ‘really are’.
 
Since arriving in Nepal in June, I have come to like the word ‘Namaste’. Maybe it’s because everyone says it here.
 
I like that most people take the time, especially when I’ve initiated a namaste with sincerity (and no, not in the aforementioned ‘I’m more holier than thou’ type way), that they respond by pressing their hands together in prayer position across their chest, with head movement slightly bowed and say in return ‘Namaste’, with beaming features. I’ve also observed this when Nepalis meet new people, at work meetings and restaurants.
 
Of course my heart melts into a runny strawberry gelato when a small child says ‘Namaste’ as they press their hands together and look up at me with wide eyes and shy smiles. 
 
It seems to be more like a proper ‘hello’, more than the brief acknowledgements of ‘hi’ when meeting groups of people in Europe or Australia. It’s a moment of time that appears to be filled with a bit more pause and consideration here. It’s a respectful term that is also used when saying ‘goodbye’.
 
As the standard greeting for everyone in Nepal, the literal components of ‘Namaste’ break down to ‘I bow  / to you’, and in Hinduism it means ‘I bow to the divine in you.’
 
Understanding this meaning and everyday practise feels like there is less distance between people. And in Nepali culture, this is only enhanced with the broader concept and understanding of family.
 
‘Ohhhh, one month, that means you’ll be apart of our family.’
 
I glowed back at the receptionists broad, smiley enthusiasm to me

booking a room with them for a whole month in Thamel. It gave me a sense of reassurance and ease. Being apart of a family means that people generally care and look out for each other. As I travel alone, this is more than comforting.

 
Within the week, the young men working at the hotel started to call me ‘Didi’. Didi means older sister. I felt warm fuzzy feelings when I heard a few of them call me that for the first time. Even though they had been teaching me some Nepali words throughout the week, they didn’t know that I knew what ‘Didi’ meant.
 
My mission the next day was to find out the word for ‘younger brother’. I knew the word for older brother, but that didn’t work in this instance. That evening when I came back from my volunteer work and waited as usual for my large pot of black tea to be boiled, I talked with the affable young men about their days (which were always ‘good’) and about my day. Every day I looked forward to that moment, laughing, talking and learning from these super friendly boys.
‘Hey, Didi, do you know what ‘Didi’ means?’
 
‘Ho, Bai!’
 
They nodded their heads in appreciation, beaming broadly. ‘You do know.’
 

And that was it. It was ‘Bai’ and ‘Didi’ from then on.
 
Then it started happening in the restaurants I frequented. I was just ‘Didi’. I started to observe more how people interacted with each other on public transport, in workplaces and restaurants. It was all Bai or Dai (older brother), Didi or Bahini (younger sister). Then there was Uncle or Aunt and any much older woman was always called ‘Amma’ (mother). 
 
Everyone is family.
 
I have a friend in Australia who regularly calls other men ‘brother’. I always thought ‘that’s a bit too personal isn’t it?’ And wouldn’t people want to smack you in the face if you say it? He says he has never had a bad reaction from men when he’s called ‘brother’. I always thought what he did was nice, but I would be too shy to do the same.



Now, in Nepal, I am doing it. Everyday. And I like it. Using these terms for people unrelated to me makes me feel less separation between me and them. It makes me feel more comfortable and more at home, wherever I travel in Nepal. 
 
This, I believe, is one of Nepal’s greatest cultural strengths and something the rest of the world can learn from. Because we aren’t so different from each other, really. Lets use this example and start treating your friends, co-workers, that stranger on the bus, as your sister, brother, aunty or uncle. 
 
Let me know how it works/doesn’t work for you. I’m interested. 🙂
And hey, Namaste!



We need you!

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Nepali people speak. Nepal needs both volunteers and tourists, now.
I read the articles. I’m sure you did too. ‘Don’t come to Nepal’ was the persistent and continuing message from writers across the globe. Everyone cited Haiti.
 
Haiti was a disaster. Volunteers put a strain on resources, preventing emergency crews and doctors from saving lives. A horrid situation indeed. Contributed to by well intentioned people. So the message for Nepal was clear: unless you are a doctor, or a trained recovery worker, we don’t want you.
 
Who doesn’t love a trishaw?

Fair enough. Makes sense to me. Disaster zone, too many people getting in the way of the vital emergency work.

I decided to come to Nepal anyway. I’m not a doctor or an emergency worker, but I am skilled. I knew I would bring skills that could be utilised. I arrived just under 5 weeks after the first earthquake of 7.8, and 2 weeks after the second 7.3 earthquake hit.
 
I thought that arriving 4 weeks or so after the disaster would allow time for the initial emergency work to be completed. I heard reports of the whole of Kathmandu being a disaster zone, that there would be nowhere to stay, and no basic facilities like water, electricity.
 
I had a friend in Kathmandu at the time of the earthquake, who luckily remained unscathed, but slept outside with pretty much everyone else for the first few days post earthquake for fear of aftershocks. She informed me that 3 days after the quake she found accommodation and restaurants open in Thamel, the tourist area of Kathmandu.
 
This first hand account settled my initial fears from the gargantuan disaster reports I’d heard in the news and from ‘friends of friends’ who left Nepal back to their countries of origin after the quakes.
 

Since arriving here 3 weeks ago, the time has flown by. Every day I have spent hours chatting with locals about their towns, villages and homes being destroyed by the quakes. I have spent the majority of my time working with two amazing local NGOs documenting, project planning recovery projects and strategising options for their continuing work. 

 
I’ve also been approached by many other Nepali people and groups to assist them. Unfortunately, I have not been able to help everyone, as much as I have wanted to. There are just not enough hours in each day.
 
I’ve spoken to many many locals who have formed groups to go out and help affected villages and towns. For the first days / week after the quake, the focus was getting supplies to decimated villages, but in terms of recovery work, there was little that could be facilitated by untrained helpers.
 
In the subsequent weeks and still continuing now, locals people and organisations are forming groups to go out into villages to help the most affected areas. 
 
The continuous refrain from local Nepali people here is: ‘We need
volunteers to come here, get to know us, come out to our villages and see if you want to help us rebuild.’ The message I’ve heard is that they don’t want money, but they want supplies and people to invest time in their communities. Have a read of the stories on my second post on Kathmandu.
 
But aren’t the government and big NGOs helping?
 
Yes, they are. But many villages still not have been reached, those villages in really remote and unsafe mountainous terrain. I met one man walked in for days to a village that had not had any assistance. From anyone. He said even the walking path was dicey. He brought much needed solar supplies to the village who had not had any electricity since the quakes.

Overwhelming it seems that local solutions from and with local people appear to be what’s making the greatest impact. There are many articles and organisations that have documented this, see list below (please note however, a lot of the work done by locals remains unseen – it truly is amazing the impact of locals helping locals).

 
Is it safe?
View from Thamel burbs were all is ok!

Many buildings have been destroyed across Kathmandu and in Thamel, the tourist area. But the great majority of buildings in Thamel are still standing. And are open for business: there are ample options for accommodation and food (really, really great food – my taste buds have loved me since I arrived!). I’ve had continual access to fresh water, electricity, wifi and did I mention great food? I have been in many other districts around Kathmandu and had access to all of this too (there are obviously areas that don’t due to the destruction, but most do).

 
I have also travelled by myself all over Kathmandu, and been completely fine.


Quakes.
KTM

I have experienced ‘medium’ sized earthquakes a few times since arriving. Its a weird feeling indeed to have your whole hotel building move around and with you. These secondary earthquakes haven’t caused a lot of damage in Kathmandu, but have affected some of the smaller villages outside of Kathmandu severely. And the hotels that I’ve been in still stand. And those around me.

 
More and more businesses are opening in the streets surrounding Thamel, particularly in the past week (Thamel has had pretty consistent openings of restaurants and hotels since the quakes). People who fled after the quakes are returning to Kathmandu. It’s where they can get work.
 
But they need people to buy from them. I’ve spoken to business owner after business owner and all say that even if their business is fine and home is fine, they are not getting any business because there are no tourists. This is depressing and dire situation.
 
 
What about the monsoon?

 The monsoon should have started by now. But it has not yet properly hit, so yes it will hamper the building of shelters and homes, but it does not mean that shelters and other help in affected areas are not needed. It is. 

 
KTM

It means that things will take longer, and be delayed. There is other work that can be done here in the meantime, like local building help around Kathmandu, project work, fundraising for various local organisations and skill sharing. 

 
Alternatively, plan to come when the monsoon ends. 
 
One of the fabulous brainstorming sessions we’ve had!




Tips for making fabulous contributions when you get to Nepal:

  • Get to know a little bit about Nepal before you come. Besides its beautiful mountains, Nepal is an incredibly diverse country with over 123 language and cultural groups.
  • Learn some of the national language, Nepali. You can learn Nepali basics by downloading apps and practising with locals when you get here. It is much appreciated.
  • Meet locals, ask what their needs are. Visit the communities, find out what they want. Understand what they are currently doing and work out ways that you can help them achieve their goals. Think like and act like it’s a long term partnership and friendship. Because, it most likely will become this.
  • Be respectful to local customs and people. 3 simple things you can do:
Observe. Look at what locals are wearing and how they
                behave when they greet each other and enter spaces.
Ask.        If you don’t understand something, ask a local. 
                They will be more than happy to share with you! 
Follow.    Follow and respect local customs.
  • Don’t volunteer or give money to orphanages. Children are not tourist attractions. Importantly, 2 out of 3 orphans in Nepal are ‘paper’ orphans. This means that they have at least one or both parents alive. The majority of parents are from disadvantaged communities who are promised by convincing men that their child/ren will get an education if they give the child to the orphanage. Usually the orphanage is a money making machine getting money from unsuspecting tourists and treating the children incredibly poorly.
  • If you come during the monsoon, be prepared. Be patient, know that things will take longer. Get creative and work with the Nepali villages you are helping. See what can be done in current shelters or communities. Ask Nepali communities what they need and how you could best assist them.
So many advertisements seeking volunteers!!

Be thoughtful, consultative and guided by Nepali people in all that you do! They are some of the most friendliest, kind people on the planet. Enjoy your time here, its guaranteed to be an enriching experience!

 
 
Oh, and if you just want to be a tourist….
Last night street scene in Thamel

Please come! I met a father and daughter from the States the other day in Thamel. They were trepidatious about coming at this time. They spent a week here and loved it. They enjoyed the differences between India and Nepal (they had just come from India and were enjoying a ‘break’ from the amazing crazy state that India induces!).

 

Thamel in Kathmandu is still a fabulous place to be, restaurants, bars, pubs, live music, great food.


9 out of the 10 National Parks are safe and able to be explored. Also, famous areas like Pokhara in Nepal were not greatly affected. The mountains, lakes and beauty await you! Its only 6 hours by bus from Kathmandu (or you can fly there!). So please come and support Nepal getting back on its feet (tourism supports around 500,000 jobs in Nepal). You are sure to have a great time!

And finally, check out #YouHikeTheyRise campaign and videos demonstrating just how beautiful and crucial your visit here is.

Articles / Sources:

‘Kopan – Helping hands’, www.fpmt.dk/kopans-thousands-of-helping-hands/, www.kopanmonastery.com/kopan-helping-hands.

‘Nepal’s aid system is broken, so these lifesavers hacked it’, www.wired.com/2015/05/nepal-earthquake-aid/

‘Himilayan Climate Initiative’ (Nepali youth driven sustainable housing initiative), www.himalayanclimate.org

‘Association of Youth Organisations in Nepal’, www.facebook.com/AyonNepal?fref=ts

‘Bhukampa Engineers’, www.bhukampa.net

‘Abari’ http://abari.org

‘Nepal Rises’, www.nepalrises.com

‘Nepal425’, www.nepalitimes.com/blogs/thebrief/2015/06/02/nepal425/.

‘GMIN, Grassroots Movement in Nepal’, www.gmin.us
‘#YouHikeTheyRise Campaign’, http://himalayanenchanter.com/youhiketheyrise/

‘Reasons why you should visit Nepal now’ http://nepaltraveladvisory.blogspot.com/2015/06/reasons-why-you-should-visit-nepal-now.html

If you are interesting in helping stop children being trafficked and getting children back to families (where they should be), consider donating to Forget Me Not: www.forgetmenot.org.au.

Kathmandu: the next days

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On the second afternoon I met a principal of a school from a small village close to the epicentre of the first quake. The whole village was destroyed. Including the school. He had come to Kathmandu to talk options and seek help for his village.

 
“We are starting from zero. We need all the help we can get.”
 
He explained that he met an Australian man two weeks ago who volunteered to fund and assist building a small temporary school shelter, but it’s just the start. Start of everything. Water pipes have been broken and homes turned to rubble.
 

“If the children can’t get fresh water, they will get sick and we won’t be able to teach them. If the children don’t have homes, they will be too tired to learn. If they children don’t have food, they will be distracted. Everything works together. So I need help to fix everything. We are starting from zero.

“It’s like if a woman is pregnant. If it is a boy or girl, it doesn’t matter, and we are happy we are giving birth to it.”
 
I looked at him quizzically.
 
“The earthquake is the pregnancy. We have to be happy it’s come and work with it.”
 
I asked him what sort of support the government has given for the school.
 
“The government has given 25,000 rupees to each school. But that is nothing.”  (Note 25,000 rupees is the equivalent of $250 USD). In relative terms, this is about the cost of one shelter, which could fit a small family.
 
Thamel, Kathmandu

I asked him what sort of help the village needed or how people could contribute.

“We need people to come with supplies to the village. To meet the people and bring housing supplies. We need civil engineers. We need people to help with the school and homes. The monsoon is coming and that is a very big problem for us.”
Another man I met whose family is in a village 75 kms from Kathmandu says his family is fine, but the village was destroyed. He has moved his family to another location for the monsoon season and then they will look at rebuilding the village and homes after the monsoon. This is a family that is fortunate to be able to move.
 
Another man I met by wandering into a closed restaurant. He invited me to sit and talk. We had tea and he passionately told me about all the things he wants and needs to do for his village and community which were right at the epicentre of the earthquake. I ended up spending hours with him and subsequently helped him draft a funding submission to an NGO. I will be writing more about him and his work in future posts.
 
And this was all in one afternoon.

Hotel in Thamel, Kathmandu
 
And then there was a quake. Yup.
I was in bed at about 10pm at night (ok, ok, I was tired!). I felt the walls move and loud sounds. At first I thought it was my new neighbours in the room next to mine, being very loud, like a kind of slamming doors and such. But then I realised, no neighbours could move the whole building. My room and bed moved completely, taking me with it on this ‘I’m more powerful than you’ swirling motion around my room. Oh, so this is a quake! 

It was an odd feeling having everything move around me and involuntarily moving me with it. And the whole six storeys of the hotel I was in. 
 
I figured it mustn’t be a huge one or that it could have been far away since it seemed to last for only about a minute or so, but certainly impossible to miss! So I stayed in bed. I found out it was a 4.5 the next day and not too far away from Kathmandu.
The following night I woke up at 4am, but I didn’t know why, everything was so silent. Later that day I heard there was another quake around that time. The continuing earthquakes like this, even 4.3 – 4.5 are uncommon for Nepal. Locals say there was a 4.5 quake in 2011, but that seems to be the only in recent memory, which didn’t cause a whole lot of damage. 
 

The wrap

I guess one could describe my first few days in Kathmandu as being very ‘full’. Full of people helping and seeking help. A few quakes.
 
And momos. Don’t forget the momos. I love momos. Always have, always will. And I can eat them to my hearts’ content here. 
Veg momos. Amazing sauce. Heaven.
So please don’t be surprised if I start looking all squidgy, soft and saucy in my coming months’ photos. If I happen to turn into a momo, I am ok with that. It is worth it. Believe me.

Pumpkin momos with a chili chocolate sauce!

Kathmandu: the first 24 hours

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Exiting the plane my whole body smiled. No humidity. No humidity! NO HUMIDITY! Yes, yes, YES!!!!
Sunshine and rubble
A pleasant 30 degrees Celsius and no humidity. I just came from Myanmar, at 8pm at night it was 31 degrees, dark and I had dribbles of sweat emanating from my brow, knee creases and behind my earlobes. The word ‘unbearable’ does little to describe how overwhelming I found the mixture of sun, dust and lets just say at least 152.59% humidity was. Needless to say I could not be found outside between 10am and 5pm. 
 
But here, it was 31 degrees, in the mid afternoon heat and I could actually breathe! You little ripper!  I looked around the airport runway and noted the many massive plastic wrapped packages, supplies yet to be distributed.
 
I walked amongst the throng of 250 Nepali men swarming around me with an ‘all-in’ survival mode determination to the baggage claim. I was one of three white people in the plane and the only white female in amongst a handful of women. I had gotten used to the gapping mouths by everyone in Myanmar, but this plane ride took it to a whole new level. A captive prey, with every tiny move scrutinised with magnetic gazes and not so subtle filming. These cat eyes found a new fascination: the conveyor belt. 
 
The conveyor belt was packed full of packages of all ranges of sizes: TVs, stitch tied boxes, large cheap suitcases. These men were coming back home from working in Malaysia. The air host explained to me, ‘We have a lot of Nepalese workers in Malaysia, normally this plane is sold out, but there are a few empty seats today’ (note: I didn’t see many spares). 
Support perhaps?

 

My taxi driver was a very affable young Nepalese man. Smiling and friendly without the open mouth thing. I asked him about Kathmandu since the quakes.

 
‘Many people are scared. Very scared. A lot of people are homeless.’ He pointed out the vast numbers of tents in the small spaces of land that were not taken up by buildings or rubble.
 
‘Many people’s homes collapsed, but some people, even if their homes are okay, are too scared to stay inside incase another earthquake comes. Many people have left Kathmandu. They are too scared to stay here.’
 
‘Have they gone back to their villages?’
 
‘Yes, to help their families and work for them. Most people come to Kathmandu for work, but they are too afraid to stay here. For example, it normally takes during the day one hour to get from the airport into Thamel. It now only takes 15 minutes. Everyone is gone.’
Life continuing

I look around to see the swarming motorbikes, cars, trucks, people, dogs and (so much inner excitement here) cows! I haven’t seen roaming cows for a few years since my venture to India. I love cows. And free cows especially. I wondered what this unorganised beehive would be like in its ‘normal’ state.

I ask him how his family is. ‘My family is from a small village an hour or so outside of Kathmandu. They are okay, but their home was destroyed.’

‘I am sorry to hear that.’
 
He smiled. ‘No, don’t be sorry, its okay, they are not the only ones. A 1000 homes were destroyed in my village.’
 
Ummm, wow. My mind wandered back to the responses of people in Queensland’s (Australia) worst natural disaster in recent history in 2011. I was apart of the recovery efforts. I remember hearing many people (not everyone, granted) complaining and blaming the government (for a natural disaster mind you) for their homes being damaged or destroyed. Of course this is horrible and devastating, I too was affected, but I reflected on this very different reaction to a natural disaster that killed over 9000, injured thousands more and rendered over 450 000 homeless (in Queenland’s disaster, 38 people were killed and thousands of homes were destroyed) and people with no insurance.
One of the many nice restaurants here.
A stark contrast.


Most foreigners who are in the Thamel area (the tourist area of Kathmandu filled with beautiful restaurants, mountain gear shops, cashmere and trinkets) are here for recovery assistance. This makes Thamel currently an interesting place to be. Most businesses and almost everyone in Kathmandu are helping the recovery efforts in some way. One restaurant I ate at had installed a sample monsoon shelter for the homeless they are raising money for.

On the outskirts of Thamel
There are a lot of local people and groups that have taken initiative in recovery efforts. These groups are facilitating assistance in ways larger organisations are not (for a variety of reasons). I am going to be documenting some of the fantastic work these groups are doing here.
 
One of the initial inspiring things I’ve heard about within my first 24 hours is two guys who have come from the Philippines to teach locals how to make homes, using local materials of mud, bamboo etc, earthquake proof. They are going out into villages to teach locals adjustments to their current building style or completely new techniques.
 
The Eco Brick!

One of these men is also into building ‘Ecobricks’. Plastic bottles filled with plastic bags. This Ecobrick has about 60 plastic bags in this one bottle. Eco bricks are about turning plastic that is not biodegradable into something that is an incredibly useful solution to a huge environmental problem. PET plastics will last 300-500 years if kept away from direct sunlight. And they make incredibly good bricks / building materials that can be used over and over again!

ecobricks.org website has a free kit that anyone can use (including info for teachers and schools) and they are currently getting it translated into Nepali as you can see, this is the first draft.
The Eco Brick guide in english, its first Nepalese translation and a sample brick!
Many more inspiring stories to come!