Bajo and Bananas

Under construction

Chimi, aka "the man", on the road to the army hospital

Tashi and Chimi

In a taxi, my small, pink-clad riding buddy

motorcycles in an alley

getting my new handwoven kira (from Dema's aunt) stitched at the tailor

rough roads, dust, cacti

a new city springs from rice,

I question “progress”

This pretty much sums up Bajo. It is the city in Wangdue where it all has to happen (it is right next to the Wangdue Dzong, which is the seat of government for this Dzongkhag, or district). Need a bank? The hospital? The post office? The army? Shopping? You have to come here. It is a relocated city, since the old city was up on a hill and there was nowhere for it to expand. So the government relocated it and rebuilt it where there were previously rice paddies. It is obviously still under construction, and the roads are not yet paved. Buildings are being worked on, their materials everywhere. Dust flies up in the “windy-Wangdue” gusts. Shops sprawl onto the sidewalks in front of them. Taxis and people shout. Music and cell phones play a cacophony of pop. It is sensory overload coming from Rukubji where the few sounds at night are dogs and running water from the fountain and river outside my door…

I made the journey to Bajo on a Sunday morning. Two weeks ago I broke my permanent retainer on a rock in my rice. Finally, the sharp, unattached metal began to cut my mouth and I decided I needed to get it fixed. The principal told me that there was a dental facility in Wangdue and that I should catch a ride with the next person heading there. That person happened to be Tashi, our village Ministry of Agriculture worker. She and I met the first time I went to Wangdue with the principal to open my bank account. We rode back to the village together in a taxi and she taught me Sharchop phrases to share with Angey.

I met Tashi at Chazam at 9am where we waited for a bus, found it packed full, waited for another, which was packed. At 10:30, one stopped that had two open seats and we jumped in. Three and a half jostled hours later we ended up at the top of the hill at Bajo and took a taxi down. Spring has definitely sprung in the lower altitudes. The magnolias were breathtaking the whole journey long, as were the flames of the red rhododendrons. Come on spring!

Once in Bajo, we met with Chimi, the caretaker of my school. I handed him some letters and errands from the principal and he invited us to his aunt’s house for lunch. He was in town to help conduct a puja, which is a prayer ceremony. Lots of people were milling in and out of the house. We feasted on the wonderful food cooked by Chimi himself. I told him we’ll have to have an ema datse cook off sometime (which means I have to get far better at making this national dish…)

After lunch, Tashi and I went to our hotel (a corridor of rooms and a restaurant) and met with her friend Chimi who works for the Ministry of Agriculture in another village. They were both in town for a workshop. We ran my shopping errands together, which I am so grateful for. I don’t know that I would have been successful without their help. Again, there are systems that seem to be in place that I still haven’t mastered. Tashi and Chimi get things done so fluidly. Language barriers and the fact that my Bhutanese friends take on the task of getting things done for me, instead of letting me struggle with it myself, have a lot to do with me not learning the systems. I thoroughly enjoyed being with the girls, window-shopping when we had completed the basic shopping, and having tea with their friend (another agriculture worker). We went to dinner together and then slept soundly at the hotel.

The next morning Chimi, who I call “the man” (which makes him laugh heartily), and who helps me do everything important, took me to the hospital to get my retainer repaired. We ended up going to the army hospital where a really kind and talkative dentist filed the metal down so at least it would not cut me. After a hot dusty walk back into town, I dropped letters at the post, attempted unsuccessfully to withdraw money at the bank (my paycheck was deposited right after I left the town), and then met Chimi at his aunt’s to figure out a ride back to Rukubji. We bought tickets for the Phobjika bus and hoped that we’d find a ride from the turn off to Phobjika back to Rukubji (about a 25 km distance). Once on the bus, we met a few people going to Rukubji and one told us he had a ride we could share from the turn off. Relief! We had been half joking about having to walk back…

Three more hours of dozing, chatting with a tour guide, and answering questions about what I was doing in Bhutan posed by many people on the bus, and we came to the intersection where we unloaded with 3 of our fellow villagers. After a cold half an hour wait, the ride showed up as dusk settled and we piled in. There were five of us, four squished in the back seat, 50 kg of rice and flour for a grandma in the trunk, some propane, and other assorted supplies. We came to Tsengaypokto, our final stop. Chimi and I unloaded, paid the driver, and walked down the steep descent of a shortcut into Rukubji. Cold, tired, and dusty, my little house has never looked so good. I realized then that I am beginning to think of this as my home. In Bajo, I couldn’t wait to get “home” to my little house, my peace and stillness, my students, my cows in the road, my bright stars and fresh air, my giant oaks… So while it was good to restock my rice and dal, get some treats, and get my mouth back in order, I am happy to be “home” again. Bajo makes me wonder what the future of Bhutan will look like. I can only hope that development won’t turn out more Bajos. People will have to decide what they value. Is it going to be the foreign goods and relative ease of city life with its visible and invisible destruction, or the challenging beauty of the rural life? Development is already affecting the rural life here, as I pick up Lays chip bags and Centerfruit wrappers on my walks in the woods and hear the TV upstairs at Angey’s. I am curious to see how the Bhutanese, both in the government and “on the ground”, move forward with what increasing development brings.

On a light note, here’s a poem about fruit, which I also got to buy in Bajo. I hadn’t had fruit in over a week until yesterday when I bought two bunches of bananas. My students and I wrote the poem using shared writing (they say what they want to write and I am the scribe). We are working on rhymes in Class 3, and this poem is modeled after one we read about animals. What great imagination they have. I think it is a hoot. Imagine about 20 nine year olds screaming out this poem in unison. Enjoy!

One Day

A poem by Class III

One day I saw an apple

Hanging on a tree

I said, “I want to eat you!”

The apple said, “Don’t pick me!”

One day I saw a pineapple

At the Wangdue market place

I said, “I want to eat you!”

The pineapple said, “You’ll have to chase!”

One day I saw a banana

In a yellow bunch

I said, “I want to eat you!”

The banana said, “Not for lunch!”

One day I saw a mango

In a shopping sack

I said, “I want to eat you!”

The mango said, “Oh no! Get back!”

Taking time

Literary Club member, Kinley, asking for pronunciation help with "Pinocchio"

Agriculture work on Saturday at school. Building fences to keep the pigs out of the potatoes.

Snow. Taken outside my door.

Water has patience

to cleave ravine into rock

by gentle caress

I have lived in Rukubji for over a month now, and have been in Bhutan for two. One thing I know for sure is that living in Bhutan for a year is, and will continue to, teach me patience. Patience can be a challenge, especially coming from the US where we rarely have to wait for anything. My patience lessons are many here. This is a positive lesson in my view, and just my reality.

The first: patience with adjusting. I am a flaming optimist, in case you didn’t know. So when I thought I’d just pick up and move to Bhutan, I was quite sure I’d adjust to the culture and my new life smoothly. And while I am very flexible and open, there are aspects that take getting used to. For starters, I don’t speak Dzongkha (or Sharchop, or Henki…). So while I try to learn words and phrases, it is going very slowly for me. So I am taking my time, trying the phrases I know and not getting too frustrated when communication breaks down. When a villager asks me "gatchi jo ni?" I just smile, use hand gestures, say the name of the place I am walking from, and it all works out even if both parties are totally confused in the end. I remind myself that I have 9 more months to get the hang of a conversation in the language. And as I tell my students here: our object in learning language is not perfection, it is trying. Simply giving it a shot, taking the risk of putting the words out there, making mistakes and learning.

Then, being sick. I have gotten a few bouts of illness, nothing serious though. I have to be patient with my body, which is very hard for me, even when I’m at home. I just want to run and walk and jump in rivers… but my body is reminding me that while we have had a few sunshiny days, it is still March at 3,000 meters and quite cold. The malady du jour: laryngitis. I’ll get over it, but it is taking a huge reserve of patience to make myself sit down and rest.

I am also adjusting to having a quiet social life (my one close friend is Dema, a teacher at the school). It can get quite lonely, but that’s ok. It makes me remember what a gift friends are. Even with the few friends I have, I am finding that developing friendships takes more time because my life before Bhutan doesn’t physically exist here, and there’s a lot they don’t know about the US. Skiing? A city of 400,000 people? It’s colder in Minneapolis than it is here? (yes, but buildings are heated in Minneapolis, especially school buildings...) I am learning where the gaps are in their knowledge, and my own.

The second: patience with daily life. Starting a fire. The fire going out. Starting the fire again. Boiling water to drink. Doing laundry by hand. Being cold all day at school. I finally got paid, after 2 months, so now I can pay my debts, which have been waiting patiently for me. And my package my mom sent me has not made it yet. Things happen when they will. The parts of daily life that require more time also require more attention and presence. I’ve learned that I can’t start a fire if I just want it going so I can move on to the next thing. I’ve got to stick with the process of it until its ready to be left alone, not when I think it should be ready to leave.

School is so different here. I am just taking my time getting used to the routines, but also the unexpected things that happen all the time. I am now a Class 6 Science teacher, and I have a library period with Class 2 (think 7 year olds). These classes seemed like enormous challenges when I got them assigned to me last week, but I am finding that I truly enjoy them. In Class 2, they don’t know a lot of English, but we’re having fun! I read to them in English and do all the voices and get really animated. They love it. They can recite all the library rules with actions (which we do before we leave the class to go there): quiet (shhh), hands to yourself (they put their hands across their chests), books back where they belong (they demonstrate sliding a book on a shelf). And Science! I love science! So that’s pretty fun that I get to be a scientist with my students for an hour a day.

Besides the fun at school, I have had to apply patience in dealing with the not-so-fun differences. I am trying to change the use of corporal punishment at our school. This is one thing that, while I need patience to see the full change, I have no patience in witnessing. It will take time for the teachers to learn and apply new methods, but I cannot see a better use of my time. I have formally presented alternatives to the teachers and plan to support them in all the ways I can (observation, coaching, articles to read). The principal has been very supportive and open thus far, and that gives me hope.

Here’s a quote I used in my “Responding to student behavior: classroom management, logical consequences, and positive rewards for positive behavior” presentation:

"Although violence and the use of force may appear powerful and decisive, their benefits are short-lived. Violence can never bring a lasting and long term resolution to any problem, because it is unpredictable and for every problem it seems to solve, others are created. On the other hand, truth remains constant and will ultimately prevail."

-His Holiness the 14^th Dalai Lama of Tibet

The third: patience for the whole journey- there’s a whole lot more to go before I come home and see my family and friends again. I am so grateful for the ability to connect with my family and Joe through email and phone. I love getting emails from people and am excited when they read the blog. It makes the experience a lot easier in that I get to connect back to my roots, draw in some love, and then radiate that out. It also brings perspective and problem solving when needed (I am also an external processor- I have to talk about things to get to a solution). So keep writing! I will too.

Paths

As I walk these woods

I learn: even the cow-paths

have destinations

This is not the haiku I expected would head this post- but it is the one that came as I walked yesterday, so this will be an experiment in tying my recent experiences to it.

First, walking. I have been doing a lot of this. Mostly for fun and fresh air, but also because if I need anything from a store, it is either a 15 min walk straight uphill to Tsengaypokto (a shortcut, vs the road), or a 35 min walk to Chazam where there is a hotel/store/restaurant. I often opt for Chazam because the walk is longer and many of my students live there, so I get to talk with them as we walk. I think they like this too, since the other day as I was just reaching the river on my way out of Rukubji, a group of girls saw me and ran as fast as they could toward me as I waited for them, laughing. They have many questions about life in the United States, but students in the US would have similar questions about life in Bhutan, I am sure. They teach me a lot as well: whose house is whose, whose field is whose, where they hike to offer butter lamps, customs, simple words in Dzongkha, what they want to be when they are older (doctors! engineers! I asked them about being a teacher, no takers…)

Sometimes I walk with Dema, another teacher. She has it in her mind to become healthier and more active, so when she can, we spend our after school hours walking. I am teaching her some simple yoga, which she loves. We are becoming good friends and I am so happy that we are able to talk frankly and openly about everything. I am learning so much from her, and I think it is good for her as well since I know she is learning from me too (we made pancakes last Sunday, and I am going to show her how to knit a hat.)

Besides walking on the road to Chazam, I have been exploring the woods by myself. Most people in the village think this is odd, and Angey has told me that in the summer I’ll get attacked by a bear, but I do it anyway. Often there’s no real path, so I follow the cow-paths, which are everywhere. These cows are mountain climbers, no joke. I have had to get myself out of some precarious spots! Yesterday, however, I discovered a good way to get to a “real” trail that leads all the way to the B-mobile tower. Someone had told me it would take 3 hours, but I decided to try after-school and see how far I got. It only took about an hour to get there, and far less to come back (uphill vs downhill). On the top of the hill, I could see what I think is the Black Mountain range. Breathtaking. I plan to do this walk often.

On to the part about “cow-paths”. I guess this is kind of an allegory for the fact that things are done differently here, often in a way that is difficult for me to grasp or follow (like the cow-paths), but it works out nonetheless. Since we are waiting for our first paycheck, I have been buying things on credit and borrowing, which makes me nervous, but everyone here is more than happy to do this and not at all concerned. I also have no idea how to pay for my lovely internet service that is allowing me to post this, but I have been told that the bill will come in my email (did they get my address correct?), don’t worry.

School is different in so many ways. First, I have the task of learning names that I can hardly keep straight: girls and boys can have the same names and many of the names are the same. For example, I have two Tshering Lhams in one class (approximately pronounced “seering ham”). And just give this one a try: Phub Dorji (I bet you wouldn’t have guessed it sounds like “poop dorjee”), or Damchoe Gyeltshen (“damsho yeltsen”).

Second, the day is broken up differently. Students are finishing up cleaning the grounds and classrooms (I know, shocking for an American teacher) when I arrive. Then we begin with a short (very short- student timed) meditation, then prayers, announcements, and the national anthem- all done in formation by house (like Harry Potter) outside. After, I have class IV, then III, a 10 min break, then class V for two periods. I go home to eat lunch (we get one glorious hour!), then back again for class III or IV. Since I am Library in Charge, I open the library and invite students who don’t have a teacher that hour to come and read or check out books. The first day I opened the library, I had nearly 50 students check out books! They are hungry to read. We need more books… My homework every night for IV and V is to read for 30 minutes every night and record it in their reading log. A rocky start, but I think they’re getting the idea now.

After the gong is sounded at the end of the day, students go to evening prayer for 30 minutes, I get things ready to leave, and then I go home and go for a walk.

Third, there is a curriculum, which I am not used to having provided for me. I am so glad there is one, because creating a curriculum with very limited resources and little cultural knowledge would be very difficult and time consuming. I cannot really download things from the internet, which I did a lot of when creating my curriculum at home. And there is no technology in the classrooms. I often hand draw pictures on the chalkboard to explain vocabulary or act things out (which the kids get a kick out of). The curriculum is quite well done. It is thematic and integrates the 4 modalities of language, plus grammar in context, and I find it is pretty level appropriate. When there are students who are ahead or behind, I find ways to modify. The hardest part, as always in language classes, is getting them to talk, but we’re working on it.

Finally, there is a real teacher shortage. I don’t have to guess if I am needed here. The past week we made do with only 4 teachers to cover our 7 classes and 6 period day. This is not a critique, simply a fact. Bhutan needs more teachers to take posts in the villages. It was very hard for me to experience this, especially because I knew as I taught one class, there were 3 classes not being taught. Today, since we had only 3 teachers, my solution was to send some responsible class 5 and 6 students to PP, class 1, and 2 to do some literacy in English with them. They loved the task and I think both the younger and older students benefited. I am so proud of my older students for stepping up and helping out. I’ve got to think of a way to reward them.

So the path may differ in look and feel, but I am accomplishing my goals of loving this world and giving it what I can as I walk it. Perhaps I did not expect to take this path or find these destinations, but they offer a perspective that is new and allowing me to dive deeper into inner and outer understanding.