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Published: September 14th 2009
Ama Ghar- There are some things that will never change about me; this I am sure of. One of those things is my innate tendency to forget very important things; you know, like writing down the address and phone number of the place I’ll be staying in for the next month before I go gallivanting across continents and oceans to strange lands. I told the cabbie who collected me from the airport to get me to a place that had internet access so I could look up the number for Ama Ghar; then I disposed of a hotel representative of sorts who decided to ride along and try and convince me to stay the night in Kathmandu before heading to the orphanage. I’m sorry my friend, but it’s 9 in the morning (I think); why on earth would I want to occupy myself all day just to give you money and stay in your hotel? Mr. Hotel got out of the cab after about 20 feet. Bryan has now regained his mojo after a porter took advantage of his disoriented state going through customs, pushing his luggage through and then asking for a tip. Yes, that 20 feet you pushed my
Kathmandu Valley
the view from the roof of the orphanageluggage certainly deserves some healthy compensation. What a rookie mistake I made! Well, at least I redeemed myself.
After correcting my phone and address blunder I called Ama Ghar and we were on our way…back the way we came, past the airport, and on and on until I was sure the cabbie was lost. Eighteen kilometers later we arrived and I was greeted by the Ama Ghar staff who, apparently, did not even know I was coming. You wouldn’t know it by the welcome they gave me. One of the house mothers stamped me with a red dot on my forehead and bestowed upon me a lei of fresh flowers. Then the house administrator, Bhesh, gave me the tour, complete with history, smiles, and some things I couldn’t decipher through his accent. He welcomed me to my new home away from home and then sent me downstairs for some food. Dal Bat was on the menu, which is rice, veggies and lentils. As it turns out, dal bat is the only thing that is ever on the menu, which is fine, because I am not a very decisive person when it comes to food.
I met Pell, another
Kathmandu Valley
another view from the roof of the orphanage volunteer from the U.S. who had been here a week already and he gave me the key to the apartment so I could go take a much needed nap. My bed is hard, but good and cheap and clean so I cannot and will not complain. Plus it comes with a really nifty mosquito net that’s baby blue and lined with lace. I feel like a princess every time I go to bed. There is no hot water so the showers have been cold…and infrequent.
After my nap I received a warm welcome from 38 of the most incredible children I have ever had the privilege of meeting. I’m still working on all of their names. They have it easy; they just call Pell and me ‘Brother’. Every morning I walk the two minutes from the apartment to Ama Ghar and am greeted with a symphony of “Good Morning, Brother!” The heartwarming greeting is well worth being awakened before the sun comes up every morning by crazy, psychotic monkey birds. I’m sure that’s not their scientific name, but that’s what they sound like to me. I’m really glad they have a nest right outside my window and that they
need to wake up and scream about it 2 hours before any other living creature in the valley even thinks of waking up. It really makes the whole morning.
In the mornings Pell and I have tea, which is served in the traditional way with milk and honey—exactly the way I like it. How convenient. The older children are off to school at 8 and we help the younger children study until they leave for school at 9 or so. After everyone is off to school Pell and I are served dal bat. We sit on bamboo stools on the floor and eat in the kitchen. We eat our evening meal with the children, on grass mats on the floor. At first the house mothers gave us silverware, but we decided we wanted to try our hand (no pun intended) at eating with our hands like everyone else. It really is much easier to eat with your hand. I officially have no time anymore for the Western world’s taboos regarding eating with your hands. Consider me a convert. At first I was lagging behind everyone, but then one of the boys showed me how to use my thumb to
sort of toss the food in and now I am finally able to keep up. It’s fun and is just one more way of closing the gap. We were welcomed with open arms from the start, but as we continue to settle into the Nepali way of doing things, we feel more and more like a part of the family.
While the children are at school Pell and I have free time to take a micro into town or check e-mail, go for a hike in the valley, etc. etc. A micro is a 10 passenger van, one of those little toyota jobs. They run about every 15 minutes or so. Everything is ‘or so’ in Nepal. Nothing is on time. Ever. Which is fine because I don’t have a watch anyway. Also worth noting is that the 10 passenger qualifier is really just a suggestion here. On our way into town the other day I counted 22 people, all crammed into that tiny van like sardines. Two people were hanging off the side. To make things even more fun, in Nepal a one lane road is actually a two-way highway…with a middle passing lane. Cars, bicycles, motorcycles, buses
and gigantic trucks all careen toward one another, playing chicken in effect, until swerving out of the way miraculously at the last second. Just for added excitement there are also people to dodge who are walking on the sides of the road and crossing whenever they feel like it. It’s like a video game, only you can actually die. I find it amusing and often spend the entire ride grinning with delight. It’s fascinating how no one ever seems to crash or become road kill. Plus the micros only cost 10 rupees (about 13 cents), so it’s totally worth the prospect of losing your life.
When the children return home they have some free time before their scheduled study time, so we hang out with them, lose at chess, lose at ping pong, and lose at the strange jacks-like game they play with rocks. Needless to say, I am now quite accustomed to losing to children. At everything. When I’m not losing at things, I’m being asked questions like, “Brother, why are you so short?” or “Why are you wearing girl pants?” (what?) or “How old are you? Why aren’t you married?” Other times I’m receiving delightfully honest comments
like, “You are bald.”
I really like it here. Truly. We do a lot of laughing.
About a day or two after I arrived I had the brilliant idea that the children might enjoy my Donald Duck voice. I was vastly mistaken. They don’t just enjoy it; they want it constantly. They need it; they live for it. They don’t even ask me anymore; they just come up to me and say, “Donald Duck.” It’s a demand, an order really. My name has been changed from Bryan Brother to Donald Duck Brother. I try to say no sometimes, tell them I am not their little toy that they can order around, but they always manage to get it out of me. I am weak, what can I say. It doesn’t help that these kids have mastered the art of charm.
On saturday I woke up at 5:30am to take a micro into Kathmandu with Bhesh, Bonnie, the director of Ama Ghar, and about 18 of the younger children. Monday is National Children’s Day and so there was a demonstration organized in the city to promote children’s rights and push to get them officially included in the new
Chicken and a Door
it's a chicken...and a door. constitution that is being drafted right now. Ama Ghar was invited to participate. I’ll tell you all about it in the next update. In the meantime, enjoy my poor photography skills!
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Emily
non-member comment
Nepal is JUST like this...
Bryan...this made me laugh so much!! My experience is so similar and you describe it so well! I miss everyone at Ama Ghar and I will definitely keep reading to find out how the story unfolds... Send my hugs and namastes and maybe say "Emily sister misses you" in your Donald Duck voice. Thanks for posting...!!!