Arriving in Gyelposhing

28^th December

Our arrival in Gyelposhing was a wonderfully Bhutanese experience.  Noone was quite sure where to go and the camp director was not there.  He did have a legitimate reason – he was getting a puncture fixed.  So we waited.   There was also some explanation also of our rooms not being quite ready – furniture was still being delivered.

Eventually the camp director, Karma, turned up and we were taken to our rooms.  It was explained that the six of us were not together; Ashley and Mike, Dan and Alex would be in one guest house – a new one and Anna and I would be in another “nicer” one.

Anna in our luxurious room

My expectations about our accommodation could perhaps be best described by the bag I had packed to go directly to Gyelposhing from Kheni – it contained a pillow, sheet, down quilt, emergency lantern, coffee plunger, sugar, milk and coffee, porridge oats, a polythene carpet, towel, plastic wash basin and a few other items.  We had been told guest house, my school principal had suggested we might be sleeping on the floor of classrooms…. So our delight upon seeing the accommodation provided to the others was absolute:  beds with new, clean mattresses and bed linen; one room with an ensuite with and hot water cylinder and western toilet and a separate bathroom with a squat toilet and hot water cylinder (which turned out not to work) and a small kitchenette to which was immediately added a water boiler and tea and coffee making requirements, and small, sparsely furnished living area.

We admired these amenities, with Anna and I thinking about the promise that our accommodation would be nicer.  And it was.  We had a room at the guest house belonging to the Hydro Electric Project.  By Australian standards, it probably was about 3 star.  Compared to my expectations and my accommodation in Kheni, it was unheard of luxury.  A new wardrobe and dressing table.  Flat screen TV (though I don’t think we turned it on)  nice beds with clean linen, towels (well, one to start with – although it did not seem thoroughly clean, and a second one materialized soon after). A brand new water boiler and the necessities for making tea and coffee were brought to us.  Our bathroom was tiled white with a western toilet, a fixed shower and we had hot water to both the shower and the basin.  There was a very large bucket and plastic jug, should we prefer a mandi bath, and this proved very useful for washing clothes. We had access to the shared sitting room, which again had a flat screen TV, and VERY comfortable chairs and couches.

and our luxurious bathroom

We were a bit worried that the caretaker was a bit uncertain about how long we were staying, and suggested that we might have to move elsewhere if too many important guests turned up, but fortunately the moving did not eventuate, although the important guests did – there was the upstairs for them.

Once we were left to settle in, with the caretaker saying we should ask if there were anything we wanted, we decided that a nightcap of “medicinal” (it said so on the bottle) herbal brandy from Bumthang would be just the thing to toast our comfortable room and get to know each other better (Anna had slept from jetlag for most of the journey east)

It was the start of an interesting 3 weeks.

Saying Goodbye is so Hard

22nd January 2016

Some of my home class 7B invite me for a final farewell party

There have been so many goodbyes as my year in Bhutan has come towards its end, and all have been very difficult and much more emotional that I could have anticipated.  I would never have thought that I would make such strong emotional connections in such a relatively short period of time.

Though, saying that, I knew from my previous visit to Bhutan that there is something about the country that works its way into one’s psyche.  Maybe sometime I might try and elaborate on that….

7B class captain, Namgang Dorji.
A lovely young man with real leadership potential

In summary, the goodbyes consisted of an attempt to say a few words to my home class on the last morning of classes before exams; another gathering, at student request, of some of my home class once exams were finished; the formal farewell bonfire for class 8 leavers; my formal farewell from school; result declaration day; individual visits; farewell dinners with my best friends and neighbour; the final distribution of unsold goods to my kidu boys; leaving Kheni and saying farewell to the girls at Gyelposhing.

My attempt at a few words during the last session with my class 7B home class resulted in my voice breaking and tears in my eyes, which was only mirrored by many of the class – nearly all the girls and many of the boys.  So many from this home group have become very dear to me.

7B student Norbu Gyeltshen.  A delighful
"orphan boy" as he describes himself

Students here write that teachers are like their second parents. For the 26 boarders in my home group, they certainly see more of their teachers than their parents. Some of them have been boarders since they were 6 year olds in class PP... and a not insignificant number are orphans who live with siblings or grandparents.

I had many cards and letters from these (and other) students throughout the year and promises of never forgetting me.  One of the most touching written communication was from Norbu, who expressed the wish that we meet again as parent/child in the next “generation” (reincarnation).  Prolific thanks and gratitude were expressed in these letters, the students’ gratitude is very real and makes every effort and  any hardship worthwhile.

I spent some time setting up a student email account and student Skype account and enjoyed Norbu’s delight in sending and receiving his first email and having his first Skype conversation, albeit with me who was just outside the door.

The farewell bonfire for class 8 leavers

The next farewell was an unexpected request from my class captain, Namgang, to come and meet with the class after their exams were finished.  I complied and about half the class were present to give me a farewell party – juice and “chocolates” (the generic word for any sweets) and a gift for which the students had taken up a collection.  Namgang and Pema had gone shopping and chosen a pair of pretty covered china mugs – a very kind thought.  I assured them that these would be packed carefully for my return to Australia and I would think of them whenever I used the mugs.  More tears ensued and I gave them all big hugs.  I really will miss them.

Class 7 students line up ready to receive the class 8 students
for the farewell bonfire

The formal farewell bonfire for the class 8 leavers (not all of class 8, some had not passed a sufficient number of subjects and would be held back to repeat the year) was held on the evening after the last exam and was attended by classes 7 and 8 and staff.  Namgang had asked me to help him compose a speech, and I sat with him to explore some ideas and said I would check his final written speech for him, but he was told that only class 8 students would speak.  This young man has such amazing leadership qualities, I really hope he is school captain for 2016.

The bonfire started as a large tee-pee shape and was lit with the aid of an inordinately large

Class 7 students seated ready for bonfire celebrations

quantity of volatile fluids, a practice that always makes me a little uneasy.  The food and drink was much the same as for any school or village social occasion, with tea and biscuits followed by alcohol for the staff (discretely served in mugs to pretend it was only tea) then dinner.

Dinner was followed by entertainment and words of wisdom.  It would have been nice to know that staff, particularly teachers of class 8, were expected to each contribute something to the words of wisdom and I could have been better prepared and practiced to avoid emotions.  My emotions did, of course, trigger a similar reaction in some of the students, and some of the teachers – even those with whom I was not particularly close.

Sangay Yangden from 7A invited me for
several excursions

I told the students that it really had been a truly amazing year for me and gave them advice about considering carefully, in a changing world, what changes they adopted and how they integrated this into their traditional culture and practices – not everything new on offer is particularly good or desirable in the long term.  To always value their own traditions and culture amid the change can be a cornerstone of sanity and strength.

Student spoke variously in Dzonkha and English, and after the class 8 speakers, the floor was open to class 7 speakers.  One of my smarter but more unlikely students gave a farewell speech (in English) which one of my colleagues kindly interpreted for me.  Namgang came out to give his speech, but lacked the confidence to give an unprepared speech in English, although he speaks well publicly. He spoke in Dzonkha – with apologies to me for doing so, which was really sweet.

I also wish I had been warned about the entertainment…..  all staff were expected to contribute and it was with great reluctance that I took the microphone for a poor rendition of “Advance Australia Fair”.

Thinley Jamsho from 7A
A very intense and serious student

After an assortment of students performed their skits, dances and songs, the final farewell dance / song was performed – a circle dance around the campfire – something that always challenges me to get both the steps and hand movements coordinated.

Dear little class 7 Sangay, who had invited me on excursions during the year, including visits to her grandparents’ village and homes, had asked if she could visit before I left, so of course I agreed.  She came with a farewell gift of a mug and heaps of oranges, groundnuts and sugarcane and while thanking her profusely I did request that she not spend any more money on buying me gifts.  Her family is very poor and have already been more than generous towards me.  I asked that she visit again the day before I left Kheni, and gave her my water filter – in the hope that this might help to maintain her family’s health, particularly in the monsoon season. 

Highly gifted Nima Wangchuk from 7A
From a very poor family

Thinley had also expressed a wish to see me again after exams finished, and had said he would come and visit and sleep at my house for a night or two (his village is 3 hours walk away).  Not sure that I felt totally comfortable to have adolescent male students invite themselves to spend a night in my house, I told him I would check with the principal (entertaining students at home is against the staff code of conduct) and subsequently suggested we meet for a picnic lunch halfway between Kheni and his village.   Note to self:  when agreeing on a meeting point, it is always useful to ensure one’s knowledge of the geography of the area….   I passed the turnoff meeting point and about ¾ hour later, when I was more than half way to Jangphutse, decided that I had cone too far, made some phone calls to confirm, and turned around to come back.  Thinley was not at the meeting place and it was well past the appointed time.  I thought he may have gone looking for me, so sat tight and eventually someone passed who spoke English and confirmed that Thinley was indeed on the path to Kheni.

Neighbour Sithar and friend and colleage Zangmo
at my farewell

Eventually Thinley returned, having run for the last couple of kilometres after he spotted me from the other side of the river, and we laughed about my lack of geographical knowledge and proceeded to a nice spot beside a stream for a picnic.  I had spend the previous afternoon making samosa, more than enough to fill a 15 year old boy’s stomach and feed me, and after we had eaten a quantity of these, Thinley asked if I had brought lunch.  Silly me, to assume that a Bhutanese teenage boy would consider he had eaten lunch if he had not had curry and rice.  Thinley brought out his packed lunch, a particularly delicious cold curry made from hard boiled eggs chopped with onion, chilli and coriander.  He had also brought delicious gifts for me of oranges, sugarcane and feijoa.

A very thoughtful gift from the school:
locally made and hand turned covered bowl

My formal farewell from the school was a shared farewell with one of the retiring cooks and was held in the school multi purpose hall.  Like all staff functions, we gathered more or less at an appointed time and waited until someone thought it appropriate to go inside.  I was directed to sit at the head table with the retiring cook – a bit boring for both of us with little shared language and only non-verbal communications about how cold the draft from the door was.

Momo making marathon with Phub 

Tea and biscuits was accompanied by formal speeches and the invitation to all staff to speak – Zangmo gave a most touching speech, and then alcohol was served, followed by dinner and a most unusual departure from the norm.  Disco dancing.  The previous evening had been a baby shower, and the younger male members of the community had brought a sound system and dancing ensued.  I had made a comment early in the evening that I would dance at my farewell if there were disco lights and hey-presto, a small revolving device was attached to one of the stage lights to provide disco ball effects!  There were many expressions of surprise by Vice Principal Kencho at this departure from village norm, he had not been present the previous evening, and I did have to point out that it was not my influence.  Lots of fun was had by all – more so by some than others as I observed those who seemed ready to continue their entertainment privately afterwards!  The elasticity of the marriage commitment seems considerable – when the cat’s away….

The view from the end of my road
looking up the valley towards India

 Zangmo suggested it was time to disappear around 11pm, as some were getting somewhat inebriated and we did not feel the need to be escorted home….

I was absolutely rapt with my gift from the school, a beautiful covered hand turned wooden bowl, a speciality of the Trashiyangtse area.  A lovely memento of my time in the far east of Bhutan and at Kheni school – not that I think my memories of that will fade for a long time.

Both Phub and Zangmo had invited me to farewell dinners, and the diner with Phub was actually an impromptu one of momo making.  It was a most enjoyable evening after which she gave me a farewell gift:  a small and very beautiful statue of the god of health.  A more formal invitation had to be cancelled as her visit to hospital in Yangtze with her sick newborn turned into an extended stay.  I was so glad that we had said farewells just in case this happened.  I will miss her a lot.

From the end of the road: looking up towards the lakhang

There was also a delicious dinner with Zangmo – she makes the best ever snacks to go with drinks:  crispy noodles are mixed with onion, chilli, coriander and tomato. Very morish. 

For my last night in my house, my neighbour Sithar invited me to share dinner - an invitation which also included other neighbours, and food was prepared as a communal effort by all.  Very enjoyable.  I don’t think I cooked dinner for myself for nearly a whole week.

The view of Kheni cluster village from the end of the road

Results declaration was quite an odd opportunity to see the students again.  I had declined an earlier departure from Kheni since I had promised the students that I would be at results declaration day on 18^th December.  Some students were uncertain of the date (judging by the phone calls I had from students inquiring about it) and others uncertain about the time – some arrived at school just as their name was announced for their prize!  Others arrived after their position in the class was announced.

The path down to Zangmo's house

 Unfortunately there were also administrative duties to perform at this time:  the collection of levies for lost text books, so amid this, which was conducted in a sort of controlled chaos, it was difficult to say goodbye to those students I particularly wanted to see.  I did manage to catch the “toppers” for my home group and direct them to go and select themselves a reward from the bag of assorted stuff on my desk and the kidu boys to whom I wanted to give assorted household goods.  Norbu had unfortunately not come to result declaration, but I gave a card to someone to deliver to him.  Saying goodbye to Thinley and Nima after I had distributed my household goods to them was difficult.  I have great affection for both of them and Nima is a highly gifted young man, for whom I have some concern about how the education system will accommodate his intelligence, questioning and independent thinking.

Principal Gyelpo Sherpa, daughter Tshering
and one of my favourite small boys, son Narwang

After the final pack up on the morning of my departure, I went for a walk for one last look at the amazing view from the end of the road and to drop a few items at Phub’s house.  As noone was home, I left the items with Sister at the BHU and said goodbye to her and her son Tenzin – one of my home group students.  She encouraged him to do something about which he was hesitating:  a gift of a mug – this one a coronation mug.  Apparently he had wanted to do this for some time but had felt a little shy about it.  He’s a capable boy, but as a second child lives in the shadow of his very academically successful brother and tends to work hard only when motivated externally by a strict father.  I have tried to talk with him and ask him to think about what is going to motivate him when he goes to boarding school in class 9.  Who knows how much that will give him food for thought?

8A student Tendi Wangmo
"Just one more hug Madam"

As I left Kheni, Zangmo came to say goodbye, as did my very kind school principal – along with his 2 children who brought me a gift of 2 shiny Nu1 coins – a response to my comments earlier in the year that I had not seen such items despite the maths text book referring to them regularly.

Hugs and farewells were exchanged all round, and Zangmo’s admonitions of “don’t cry Lynne” became a bit of a catch phrase, albeit unsuccessful.  I have, over the year, developed a very close relationship with her and will miss her enormously.  I am so lucky to have 2 ladies in the village with whom I became such good friends – subsequent discussion with other overseas teachers suggested that some women have difficulty in forming close relationships because of social structures within the villages.

8A student Dema Choden

I had trouble controlling my emotions all the way from Kheni to Trashigang.  It was a most amazing experience and probably one of the best years of my life.

The final farewell with the girls from Gyelposhing was also very emotional.  There were hugs and tears as girls said goodbye to each other and to the staff.  My newly adopted family members were there to say their special goodbyes to me.

I had thought I would be OK, but some of the Kheni girls, in particular, were very emotional in their own ways, from Lungten’s uncontrollable tears to Tendi’s stoic “one more hug, madam” and Dema’s smiling face assuring me she would never forget me.  It was with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes that I waved farewell as the Tshencarla bus bore them away back to Kheni.  My reaction as I write this is not much different. 

Farewelling the Kheni girls on the
Tshencarla bus

8A student Lungten Dema
with her adopted sister dance teacher Cha

Having your baby

1 February 2016

While I was teaching at Kheni LSS, my colleague and very good friend Phub, became pregnant and

Madam Phub Dem

during various conversations with her I found out a lot about practices and beliefs about pregnancy, childbirth and the early days after birth.

Later, conversations and a hospital visit with Lhuentse student Sangay to see her very pregnant mother in Mongar hospital, provided me with more insight.

Once the child is conceived, current belief is that that no-one should be told, otherwise the foetus will not survive to full term. In some ways, this is not dissimilar to our practice of keeping quiet about a pregnancy for the first trimester when the risk of miscarriage is greatest.  I felt very privileged to be told early on.

There is a belief that too many people talking about the pregnancy will bring bad luck.

It is also common practice not to dye or cut one’s hair while pregnant. The not cutting of hair brought to mind the story of Samson and Delilah, where Samson’s strength was depleted after Delilah cut off his hair. The belief about dying of hair, or painting, is that this might colour the baby.

Phub with her first son: new baby due that day
November 11th

Dreams can predict the gender of the baby – dreaming of jewellery is a sign that the baby is a girl, and dreaming of boy things is a sign that the baby is a boy. Cravings can also indicate the baby’s gender: craving for fruit means a girl and craving chilli means the baby is a boy.

To ensure that the child will be good looking, prayers or rituals should be offered to Tara. Traditional rituals are offered in the home to supplement the normal healthcare available from the BHU (basic health unit) and monks may be engaged to come and chant and pray to ensure the health of the mother and developing baby.

Preparation for the birth of the baby suggests that not too much advanced shopping should be done before the baby is actually born. This reminded me of the Miss Read story in which Mrs Pringle dourly states that it is bad luck to have the cradle or cot in the house before the “little stranger” arrives.

While I knew that money would be collected from staff and other public servants to give a communal gift at the baby shower, I wanted also to give a personal gift, as I would to an Australian friend, but unsure of what would be considered the most useful, gave some money instead to help to purchase the baby’s needs.

Phub with newborn baby

Once a woman is in labour, there are further beliefs and practices. Offerings to the gods should be made to ensure a smooth birth, someone at home should read the holy books or monks and lamas may be called upon to perform offerings and prayers at a temple

A pregnant woman should not attend a woman in labour, as it may trigger her own labour. I wonder if there is some scientific basis in this, that pheremones released during labour may trigger, if the time is right?

If a woman in labour is visited by a woman with a hot temperament, the labour will be fast and painful and if a negative person assists with the birth, this will result in negativity in the mother and the newborn.

For a home birth, the mother or sister may attend and assist and the presence of the father is a matter of choice.

If a woman is to give birth in a hospital, she will be admitted to hospital some time in advance of her due date, especially if delivery is to be by caesarian section. This advance admission is particularly important given the difficulties of travel in Bhutan. As with other hospital admissions, a friend or relative attend the person and stays with them the whole time to ensure their comfort and the meeting of their needs.

Grandma and baby

My student Sangay’s mother was pregnant with twins and had been admitted to Mongar hospital. Sangay was sleeping at the hospital (ie, sharing the bed with her mother or on the upright chair beside the bed) She showed me the maternity ward rooms – the “waiting” ward, the early stage labour ward, the surgical ward for caesarian birth, the post-op ward and the neonatal ward for normal deliveries.

Generally only family members visit the hospital, so I was privileged to be taken to visit Sangay’s mother and be shown the facilities.

Normally there is no visiting until 3 days after the birth of the baby, when purifications rituals will be performed in the home to remove the “unclean” of childbirth. . I am not sure whether this also applies to hospital births. If a person comes to visit before the 3 days, not knowing that the child has been born, the child will grow to have the same personality as the visitor.

I sent a message to Phub as soon as I heard her baby was delivered, congratulating and asking her to let me know as soon as I could visit. Her response was that she was happy for me to visit anytime, as her modern knowledge overrode the superstitious beliefs, but out of respect for her mother who lives with her, and her mother’s traditional beliefs, I waited until the rituals had been performed. The baby is beautiful. It had been a long time since I had held such a new baby.

Showing off the baby at the baby shower

The baby shower takes the same format as just about every other social event in the village: wakes, car showers, rituals for the well being of all sentient beings, household pujas, farewells….

A notice goes around the school, generally hand written in the large book kept for such purposes, and is signed by each staff member and the requisite agreed amount of money for social occasions is collected. This had been agreed at the start of the year as Nu200.

The appointed meeting time and place would be set in the notice – never actually at the venue for the social event. Some time between an hour and an hour and a half after the appointed time all would be gathered and would proceed in a group to the appointed place – often but not always the home of the person for whom the social event is occurring.

The event would start with the serving of naja (sweet milky tea) and biscuits. Once the cups were cleared from this, alcohol would be served. For the baby shower, chankey (freshly fermented rice) was included in the selection of alcohol, along with ara (local “wine” – a distilled grain product of variable quality and often with a severe kick), Takin wine (a strong, sweet, rough red), whiskey or beer. Serving of these drinks is, of course, with traditional eastern hospitality – some thing that could well be the root of the rampant alcoholism in the area.

Once alcohol has been consumed, dinner will be served – rice, dhal and curries. It is definitely a case of eat and run for most guests. A few hardened drinkers may stay for further rounds.

An unusual departure from the eat and run model happened for the last baby shower I attended. The lab attendant’s wife had recently given birth and the party was progressing as usual, perhaps a little more rowdier than normal as a few people who were usually a little reserved were letting down their hair as the majority of school responsibilities had been completed. After dinner, some of the younger male public servants disappeared briefly to reappear with a sound system and dance music. Not the traditional dancing that I had experienced on occasions, but some serious disco. This was a major departure from the norm!

Just Another Sunday...

11th October

Weekends can be precious, in more ways than one.  Given that a standard weekend for a teacher in Bhutan does not start until lunch time on Saturday (assuming no school related activities have been scheduled for the Saturday afternoon)

My water supply is not always clean...

I generally try to complete domestic chores on Saturday afternoon, after cooking something a bit decadent for lunch (potato chips featured from time to time, assuming I could buy potatoes, and I manage some good crisp not-too-oily chips on occasions)

Yesterday was a very satisfying Saturday afternoon. The water stayed running until I had finished my chores and had enjoyed my cold shower. The hot sun and stiff breeze dried my hand washed bed linen in good time and I had an invitation from my generous neighbour Sithar to an afternoon momo feast – she and other neighbours had spent a few hours chopping the filling, making the dough, rolling out small circles and folding the momo. These steamed dumplings are one of my favourite foods. 

Washing of bed linen is generally a Sunday task.  Since it needs to be hand washed in a bucket and wrung by hand, allowing a full day for it to dry (and keeping an eye on it to make sure that other activities in the general vicinity of the washing line are not serving to make it dirtier than before it was washed) is desirable.  While I started with 2 bed sheets, one became so threadbare before it ripped that it is now unusable and I only have one quilt cover, so getting everything dry in a day is very desirable!

Momo - a real favourite

Washing my towel is and getting it dry is an even bigger challenge.  I sprinkle with soap powder and pour boiling water onto it.  When it has cooled a little, I take the scrubbing brush and bar soap and scrub the grubby bits.  Then rinsing takes forever – at least 3 rinses (hoping that the water supply is adequate and clean, otherwise I have to use what I have stored in buckets – if the water supply is not running, the rinse water is kept for flushing the toilet)

As usual, I have marking to do – class 7 test papers this weekend – 65 of them - and decide that I will allocate myself “treats” after completing a certain quantity of marking.  The first of these is breakfast!  Then a little bit of gardening in my vegetable patch, going to the shop, going for a walk….

Bonus at the shop – there are vegetables.  Tree tomatoes – the first time I have eaten these, they are tart, but tasty so I buy some and there is also something that I could not identify (subsequently found out they were chokos – very high in vitamin C) and I was given some with a promise that more would be bought for me within a few days.

Chokos - a nice change and good for me

I hear chanting and singing coming closer to my house, and peeping out the window see a procession of school staff and other public servants, formally dressed in national dress.  I leave my house to inquire about the occasion and am told they are collecting for the health fund.  I am not totally sure exactly what this means – whether it is for the medicines that are dispensed by the school to the students, or to supplement the supply from the Basic Health Unit to the community.

The students are given de-worming tablets from time to time and the girls (and under 12 boys) are given weekly iron tablets.  Their reaction to these is characteristically mixed.  I send a student to fill a bottle with water to assist those (ie most) who need water to swallow their tablets, but some are reluctant and psych themselves up so badly that they can scarcely swallow the tablet.  It takes much gentle cajoling mixed with a stern approach and watching the taking of the tablets to get some to comply.  Their diet is quite deficient in iron, so the tablets are rather necessary.  The boys are generally ready to tell tales if the tablets are being secreted away or spat out afterwards.

Picking lentils clean...

I continue with my routine of interspersing marking with breaks for other tasks, including preparing dhal – one of my main sources of protein.  First though, I need to pick my lentils clean.  Stones, sticks and assorted other foreign bodies are mixed with the lentils so time is needed to clean the lentils before cooking, if I do not want to risk breaking a tooth.

Roadworks are in progress, 7 days a week, and the blasts from the dynamite (locally referred to as bombs) echo wonderfully across the valley.  When this happens at school, it generally elicits startled responses from students.  Sometimes it is so loud it makes me jump.  In a country geared towards emergency response to natural disasters such as earthquake and landslide, it is small wonder that some are rather jumpy.

It is still hot in Kheni during the day, with temperatures in the high 20s and the overnight low is still above 15.  This contrasts strongly with the complaints I am hearing from colleague Fraser in Dagana who is starting to feel very cold.

twising string to make rope

I think I have previously mentioned the need for a great degree of self sufficiency in the villages, and am diverted from my marking by the activities of my landlord beneath my window.  He is cutting narrow strips of wood from wider planks, using a handsaw, and he and his wife are twisting together strands of string to make a length of rope.

And there is the ongoing chanting of the man who is praying in the alter room attached to my house, but not accessible or used by me.  This room is separated from my living room with very thin walls, so all sounds come straight through.  This man has been coming daily to pray for around 2 weeks now.  Sometimes he is alone, sometimes with another man. 

Just another Sunday…

Downsizing

 6^th December

Although my living through the year was relatively minimalist, there were a number of items I had purchased for my house – in anticipation that the house would have walls, doors, windows, pluming fixtures and little else.

My landlord provided a bed frame, a coffee table and a wooden bench seat – with its wooden hardness eased minimally with a carpet covering, and a television which received BBS1 – mostly programs in the national language Dzonkha.  The reset of my minimal furnishings and kitchen appliances and utensils I had purchased in Thimpu and brought east.

Scullery

Kitchen

Within weeks of arrival, after clarifying that I had spent my own money to acquire these luxuries and the government had not provided them for me, I had people asking about buying the fridge, gas stove and gas cylinder when I left.  These items I could probably have sold a  number of times over, especially the gas cylinder – occasionally gas cylinder exchange is available in the village but other times one might travel to Trashigang or Trashiyangtse to find that none were available that day.  And I was told that there was some complex paperwork that might need to be completed in order to effect the exchange.

Living Room

So I decided it was time to start to sell my possessions.  I compiled a list, showing the purchase prices I paid and what I wanted to sell for and posted it onto the staffroom wall. It was not long before the school caretaker asked if she could come and see some items and altogether purchased the mosquito net, heater, mats and water boiler over the next few days.

My neighbour confirmed her interest in the fridge and also my mattress and was happy to leave the acquisition of these until my final day.

Other staff brought my iron, curry cooker and pressure cooker (yes, one of those items popular back in the 70s) and saucepan and my close friends identified some of the smaller items.

By the end of my stay in Kheni I was down to cooking with the rice cooker and one saucepan.

I had decided that my class 7 kidu boys – those boarders from particularly poor families, and one of the class 7 girls, Sangay, who had invited me to her family’s house several times, could have what was left.  Visiting Sangay’s house had been humbling; her family were so generous yet had so little. The kidu girls in class 7 would get assorted bits and pieces I would take with me to Gyelposhing for the winter program.

Living Room

Changes to the arrangements for departure left me with a bus ticket on the public bus after result declaration day – my choice – and the opportunity to send a bag directly to Thimpu with some of the other BCF teachers if I could get it to Trashigang.  An option which my very kind principal helped me to utilize.

In between my sorting and early efforts to pack up the bag for Thimpu and a bag to go directly to Gyelposhing with the girls participating in the king’s winter camp, I had a stream of visitors.  Friends sharing their frustrations and problems, students for final assessments to scrape a few extra marks and students bringing gifts of fruit.  Oranges, sugarcane, groundnuts, feijoa, and red rice heaped upon my kitchen table until I seemed to have enough for a market stall.  Very kind and much appreciated, but some had to be shared.

Some of the students came after result declaration, as requested by me, and I sent them off with water filter, rice cooker, electric fan, buckets, kitchen utensils and assorted “stuff”.  5 minutes later my neighbour came to inquired about my rice cooker for someone’s auntie.  There had been a text message some time before but no follow up so I had assumed lack of interest and it was already on it way to Monam with one of the boys.  Apologies were  duely made.

Bedroom

The final packing up was hindered by many visitors wandering in and having a conversation in the middle of where I was attempting to run around in circles and achieve a degree of organization before the designated time for my taxi to depart.

Finally the decision had to be made that more bags than initially anticipated were required, both for the items to travel to Gyelposhing and those coming with me on the bus.   So much for last minute light packing! 

Thank goodness I had a taxi arranged to travel to Trashigang rather than my usual method of hitchhiking.