Deep in the foothills of the Himalayas, ponies and donkeys help to carry the supply loads of trekkers and climbers. The poo of these animals is dark and almost invisible when dropped next to the river stone path that we followed through our recent 4 days of hiking. In fact, their excrement is so hard to see that I ended up standing in it, almost up to my ankles, at least once every day. I preferred for this to happen towards the end of that day’s route, so I wouldn’t have to feel it seeping into my socks all day, but often it would occur in the morning when I was sleepy and not looking closely to where I was stepping. Consequently this meant that no matter how long or how thoroughly I showered after each day, for the entirety of the trek we just completed I smelt faintly of animal poo. Brilliant.
When Mum emailed and told me that she was going to meet me in Nepal, I insisted that we do a short trek in her time here. Kathmandu, in all its dirty, noisy glory, is not thought of as the ‘true’ Nepal – this is found out in the mountains, in the tiny little Tibetan-esque villages perched precariously on the sides of the Himalayas. A short 4-day trek that took us up to 3500m and allowed for some breathtaking views of the highest mountains in the world would allow mum to see the true essence of this country. And so we chose Poon Hill, a popular trekking route that started in Pokhara, a day’s bus ride from the capital.
I was under the impression that it would be a lot easier than it actually was. The first day was 6 hours of solid climbing, including a harrowing 2 hours of non-stop steep stairs in the final push. We climbed kilometres into the sky, staying in tiny Tibetan homestays and drinking cup after cup of hot lemon and honey. On the third day we reached the high point of the trek and were rewarded with eerie views of the world’s giant mountains – Dhaulagiri, Annapurna and Maccapuchre, all peaks over 8000 meters. Up above the clouds, reality seems distorted and slightly non-existent. Standing in the shadows of the roof of the world evokes feelings of heady, boundless freedom; and it was here that I came to a somewhat disturbing realization: one day i’m going to have to conquer one of these monster summits.
When we left for the trek, I felt so guilty at leaving the children at the orphanage. I have spent almost 2 months over this year there now and every day I fall more and more in love with these kids. When I first arrived back in February only one out of the 11 children attended school. Now, after a lot of hard work, all 8 of those that are school age have their own sponsor and will have the basic right of an education. Organising all 8 children for school every day is a relentless, chaotic task and is some of the best contraception I have come across! Yet the work I do at the home is also the most deeply rewarding experience I have ever had. The orphans are beautiful children full of character and life and it breaks my heart to think of their past and to not be able to personally ensure they are given the future they deserve.
My favourite part of the day is when one of the kids climbs up onto my lap, lets out a big sigh, links their arms loosely around my neck and falls softly asleep. Their hair smells like Indian oils and soap and their peaceful faces break my heart: I want to take all 11 children back to New Zealand with me and bring them up myself. One little boy is a hermaphrodite and his future worries me the most as there is simply no room in Nepali society for people who are different from the norm and he will, undoubtedly, have a desperately lonely and sad life.
I have fallen in love with Nepal once again, the magical land and people whose secrets I already knew. The narrow, noisy streets and snow-capped mountains that peek silently over the chaos. Freshly picked Mangoes sitting next to freshly beheaded goats. Aromas of chiyaa and cinnamon and curry spices, chanting of Tibetan monks blasting from street side speakers. And most of all, the smiles and the giggles and the cuddles from the children who I am starting to think of as my own. Nepal is where I feel like humanity is at its most raw, most intense. Sometimes Kathmandu and the orphanage is too loud, too crazy, too frustrating and I crave the peace of home. Yet, more and more, I find myself planning when I will next be able to visit this country and its orphans I can’t help but love so much.
I fly out Thursday and i’m already dreading the goodbyes: i’m probably going to sob all the way home to New Zealand. I’m looking forward to my 3 weeks in Kiwi land before I fly out to South Korea to start my teaching position. And, as far as Nepal goes? I’m already planning next year’s visit.
