Tuesday, March 27, 2012

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!”

2 comments:

  1. Your writing is beautiful. You are an excellent narrator, Madame Iman! I enjoy your blogs almost as much as the real thing. Keep 'em comin, sister!

    ReplyDelete
  2. FOR YOUR BUSINESS NEEDS OF MEDICINES,PLEASE WRITE TO US

    THANKS

    S CHANDRA

    NEO TECH CONSULTANT INDIA
    MOB-00918052277888
    MOB-00919651986379

    ReplyDelete