Leaving Nepalgunj for the Big Kahuna

Jill & Anusha on the train to Philadelphia (May 30 '08)

I thought a little update would be in order. I haven't been maximizing my Internet access since I've been here hence the recent post and photos! Hope you enjoy them and I'll try to post some more.

Anusha and I are in Goshen, IN where we've been enjoying time with family. We will leave the US to head back to Nepal on July 30. To say that Anuraj is ready for us to come back is an understatement. I can only imagine -- he's been in Nepalgunj by his lonely self for a month and a half while Anusha and I have been gallivanting around Pennsylvania, Indiana, Michigan and Virginia! Actually, I'm ready to go back to. While I have loved every minute of being here, I do miss my new home. So, that's good!

The new news: Anuraj got transferred to Kathmandu. To make a long story short, his job was on the verge of being eliminated (actually, almost everyone else that he works with no longer works with UNMIN) because of UNMIN's mandate. Just the other week he received an official invitation to stay with UNMIN's Child Protection Unit. It will be him and one other person (down from a 15-ish person unit). The other units have also been substantially minimized and everyone is now located in Kathmandu. This is actually a relief for all of us. For obvious reasons -- like not having to worry about finding a new job. Further more, it seems that his work UNMIN will take on a new challenge -- which is fantastic. He (in my humble opinion) had been doing great work, but was definitely ready for a challenge and I think this new position and structure will offer that. He'll continue to be out in the "field," will do more to coordinate with other INGO's, and will be working at the policy level as well, which is a huge thing. Anyways, we're excited about his job and are grateful for the smooth transition.

This means we're leaving Nepalgunj. Actually, Anuraj already packed up all our stuff and had it shipped to Kathmandu. He's in the process of scoping places out for us to live. For all of you buddies who offer prayers up for us this is one . . . new housing, new neighborhood, new friends, the transition for all of us. I absolutely loved Nepalgunj. I absolutely hate the pollution, traffic, and overwhelming-ness of Kathmandu. The benefits, however, are the fact that we will be near to his two sisters, which means trustworthy childcare for Anusha. People are always coming through Katmandu, which means increased social traffic and connections for me (yahoo). I need to do my practicum to complete my masters degree, so I will be looking for opportunities to do that. But my first priority will be language study. As soon as I get back to Kathmandu (locals call is KTM, I like to call it K'town) I'm going to find me a language tutor or class or something to get my chops speaking Nepali. If I'm not careful, Anusha will be fluent before I can utter a full sentence. I'm also hoping to find some sort of fellowship group or at least get to the Catholic, English services occasionally. So, while my body and senses cringe at the thought of KTM, my spirit is hopeful that the peacefulness that I experienced in Nepalgunj -- thanks to the fabulous sun, the trees, the gardens, the animals, the people -- will transcend Katmandu's dirty streets and air. This also means we might have better access (i.e. faster internet, dependable mail, etc.). I'll keep you posted (no pun intended) on that.

So, for all you peeps out there who are still reading this, keep us in your prayers -- as Anusha and I travel back (she is walking now, which she wasn't doing when we came here in May!), as Anuraj and I look for apartments and neighborhoods to move to, as Anusha and I make the transition back to life in Nepal, and now life in the big city. I just hope that God can be as good to me in Katmandu as God was in Nepalgunj!

The Buddha Factor

When I first heard that they had hired a “boy,” to help with the housework, I thought they were confusing “boy” with “girl.” “No,” my husband clarified, “it’s a fourteen year old boy.” “Aren’t there child labor laws here?” I asked, almost irately. Why in the world did they hire a fourteen year old boy and are you sure he’s fourteen? What if he’s younger?” “They found him at one of the mines, he was working there. And the law in Nepal says that a child can begin working at the age of thirteen.” My husband was in somewhat of a predicament, being a “Child Protection” worker for the United Nations Mission in Nepal.

I went to their house, soon after we heard the news. He was indeed a boy, and I wasn’t convinced that he was fourteen. Maybe twelve. But he worked his butt off, and always with a smile. He actually seemed to enjoy his role, taking care of this household. Picking up after everyone, putting things away and keeping the house in order. The woman of the house kept him busy with cleaning and cutting up vegetables. She was going to teach him how to cook and he had already learned how to make roti. He was learning to make good chai. And in the mornings, he would clean off Deepak-ji’s car with a rag, taking off all the dust that had accumulated the previous day and night.

Often, he would complain to her that he didn’t have enough to do, and started finding work for himself like scrubbing down doors. Buddha would come with us out shopping, to carry the bags for us. Shilpi would send him out to the market on his own, to pick up things here and there for her.

The first time I saw him eat, I cried. I was sitting at the table and saw Shilpi give him a plate of rice with lentils. He squatted in the corner of the kitchen and gobbled it down. The second time I saw him eat in the corner of the kitchen, my husband, the child protection advisor, was with me at the table.

“Look behind you,” I told him. “When I first saw him do that, I cried.” And I cried again. “Can’t he at least eat at the table?” “I asked him,” my husband told me. “But he said no.” “Is that because Shilpi told him to eat in the kitchen?” I inquired. “I think he just prefers it there,” my husband defended. “Maybe,” I said, “or maybe he thinks that he deserves to be there, as if he doesn’t deserve to eat at the table?” Maybe I was reading too much into it, or maybe not.” “What’s hard,” I continued, “is the fact that he is treated well here. I would be afraid for them to fire him and send him out, who knows where he would end up or who would be his employer, or what they would do to him. Maybe he’s better off here?”

I stayed for a month at their house, and became more and more convinced that Buddha was at the right place. Shilpi would often send him outside to play cricket with her 7 and 3½ year old boys. Sometimes, when there wasn’t anything to do, Buddha would play Parcheesi (a floor board game) or watch some tv. As far as the life of fourteen year old houseboy is concerned, he was doing well. He worked hard, he did it with a smile, and he got to be a boy and a part of a healthy family.

My predicament is lessening, my conundrum waning. I don’t cry when I see him eating in the corner, I’ve gotten used to it – or maybe I just don’t see it anymore. I try to see that he is included in things. Tonight, they invited him along to go out to eat to celebrate the seven year old’s birthday. And that was enough to make all of us smile.