The World Through The Eyes of Me

“You have to go and see the monkeys” insists Pushpa “They are very cute. You take many beautiful pictures”.

Far removed from the hustle and bustle of daily life, the Monkey Temple lies on a hill overlooking the vast expanse of the Kathmandu Valley; a scrambled jigsaw of low-rise buildings surrounded by hazy green hills.

Climbing the temple steps I am greeted by the familiar smells of burning incense and chiah. At the top I walk slowly around the stupa, spinning each prayer wheel for good luck. Out of nowhere, a small troop of six or seven monkeys appears and within minutes there are dozens more, all in search of their morning feed.

As I focus my lens on a pair of monkeys fighting over an empty drinks carton, I feel a small hand, reach into my empty pocket. I turn around and face a young girl, her hair knotted and her clothes filthy. She stares back at me boldly; in her eyes I sense a look of desperation following her failed attempt to steal from me. She holds the look for a moment before scattering away. I feel sad for her and presume she has been taught to steal for a living.

Soon after, I’m approached by a confident young boy,

“Hello Mr, where are you from?” he asks. I tell him I am from England and have come to work with young people like him.

“Ah your Queen is Elizabeth II and your new Prime Minister is David Cameron”, he replies. I am impressed by his knowledge, but at the same time my heart sinks. I know what he is after. I should walk away, but instead I carry on and try to befriend him.

“Guten Tag, Hola, Bonjour” he greets me before effortlessly listing all the major capital cities in the world. He continues by telling me about the temple’s history and Buddhism. I ask him what he wants to be when he is older.

“I want to teach English and see the world” he tells me. Wow, I think, he would put most kids in Britain to shame with his knowledge and ambition. I have to leave, so I shake his hand and wish him good luck. As I turn around he finally says it:

“Please can you give me money for food”, he pleads. Feeling guilty, I turn my back and walk away. I assume, like the girl, he is working for a mafia group who exploit poor and desperate children.

I spend the rest of the day contemplating how fortunate I have been to grow up in a society where education and welfare are readily available and yet often taken for granted.

I reflect on my experience at the temple and dread to think how much potential has been lost at the expense of poverty.