15th July
“Aren’t you afraid to live by
yourself?” asks my delightful and intense student, Thinley, as he carries my
bag to the school gate at the end of my supervision of boarders’ dinner, one
evening.
“What should I be afraid of?” is my naïve reply to
his question.
“Ghosts and
demons.” Of course, I really
should have known. This, after
all, is a country that has a national park dedicated to the preservation of the
habitat of the migoi (known elsewhere as the yeti).
I have not intention
of dismissing his question with comments that negate his belief system, so tell
him that I think if I live a good life, then the ghosts and demons will leave
me alone. Then comes the next sticky
question:
“Does Madam believe
in ghosts and demons?”
Quoting (or
misquoting) Shakespeare “There are more things to heaven and earth, Horatio,
than you or I have ever dreamed of”, necessitates an explanation, of course.
It is not only ghosts
and demons that the students are afraid of. One day after lunch I find a few students harassing a couple
of geckos on the floor on the multipurpose hall; I pick up one and put it in the bushes outside. This leads to the question, “isn’t
Madam afraid of the lizards?” (note
the frequent use of the third person rather than the second person in
addressing me!) Of course, I have
to ask the next question:
“Why should I be
afraid of these lizards?”
I am told that they
are poisonous and they suck one’s blood.
Vampire geckos? I don’t think so!
I discuss this with
my friend and colleague, Madam Phub, and she tells me that this is part of what
they believe. I discuss it further
with my neighbour and colleague, Karma, Sir. He rationalizes the “poisonous” with the explanation that
maybe it is because if a gecko falls into a jug of uncovered milk, it is likely
to contaminate the milk, or the stool of the gecko might contaminate other
food. OK, I can cope with this. I am yet to have a rational explanation
for the blood sucking gecko concept, though.
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| stunning caterpillar: what it looks like as an adult is a mystery |
One summer day,
walking down the rather precarious steps which are the access to my house,
there is a stunningly beautiful, 8-10cm long caterpillar on one of the
vines. Its long hairy spines
suggest that avoiding contact might be a good idea, but keen to know more, I
carefully remove the section of the vine on which it is grazing and take it
down to my young neighbours, who are cavorting with water just below. This elicits screams and several steps
of retreat from the two younger girls and from one of the class 8 girls, who
tell me it is poisonous. Yanchen,
also class 8, calmly informs me (albeit not quite in those words) that it will
cause a skin rash if contact is made.
Yes, I agree. I ask what
sort of moth or butterfly it turns into and am told that it does not. Interesting. I wonder how they think it reproduces. These students have studied science for
the last few years; surely the life cycle of the butterfly has been on the
syllabus.
The superstitious
beliefs are not limited to the students.
My friend Madam Phub does not like to walk alone after dark past the big
tree in the school grounds. This
tree is absolutely magnificent, and is actually an amalgamation of several
species – I have heard anything from 7 to 13, and in the dry of the winter
months is visible from miles around and the most significant green spot on the
landscape.
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| The school's big tree |
The tree not only
sheltered a spring, which has long since gone dry, but did provide a water
source for the village in times past, but is believed to harbour a number of
spirits.
One afternoon, on
arrival home from school, I am very aware of a ritual underway in my landlord’s
house, immediately below mine.
Chanting of monks, drums and trumpets accompany this throughout the
evening and past when I go to bed.
Hoping that even monks need to sleep, I stuff my earplugs in, close my
bedroom window, and attempt to ignore it.
I am woken again at
4am by the recommencement of the ritual.
Feeling a little sleep deprived the following day, I mention the ritual
to my colleagues and neighbours who also live in the same or adjacent
buildings. I am told that the
ritual is to drive away the spirits that might cause illness (the local health
worker at the Basic Health Unit (BHU) encourages greater consumption of fruit
and vegetables as a preventative!)
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| Monks perform a ritual; this one was school Rimdru. |
Given that both my
landlord and his father in law had recently been unwell, I can understand the
timing and context of such an event, and inquire as to whether the ritual might
be effective in driving away the range of biting insects that seem to find me
attractive. I receive laughter as
a response, with repeating of my question to each other to make sure it was
properly heard. Its nice that most
of my colleagues get my jokes; to understand jokes in a second or third
language does suggest a degree of fluency and comprehension that is quite
sophisticated.
Earlier in the year,
during cough and cold season, my class 8 student Yanchen, who lives next door
had been particularly unwell and had been absent from school for a couple of
days and when she returned had 3 bruises across her forehead. Quite concerned about how these had
been acquired, I ask, and was told that their belief system suggests that illness
such as she had was caused by sprits which much be sucked out by the lama. Thus the 3 bruises! I think she was also taking medicine given
by the local BHU – no doubt some vitamin C and antibiotics.
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| Prescription instructions: Bhutan style |
On the subject of
antibiotics, I have to admire the practical way in which dose instructions on
medication are provided. Timing
and number are illustrated visually in way that should be fairly clear for the
many villagers who are illiterate.
Many of my students are first generation school students, or at least
the first generation to go past very early years of education.
I do manage to
maintain my facial demeanour through these conversations about traditional beliefs. My training years ago as a Life Education
Program educator, to maintain a straight face no matter what the students say,
is holding out well.
I will not dismiss
the local use of herbal remedies, there are medicinal properties to many of the
plants that science has not yet explored.
Artemesia bhutanica, which grows prolifically, was more effective than
my ventolin in relieving the way in which perfumes (and particularly the scent
of my guide’s sunscreen) triggered my asthma when I visited as a tourist in
2013, and I used it successfully with a steam inhalation when I had a bad cold
earlier this year. I believe a poultice
of the leaves is also used as an aid to coagulation for cuts. I have had many
other plants pointed out to me, which have medicinal uses, including the use of
the leaves of the castor tree to relieve aches.
And of course that
other “weed”, the recreational use of which is of course discouraged, that
grows so prolifically and is starting to attract serious attention from researchers
in respect of its medicinal properties….
I occasionally see
the conflict of traditional beliefs with scientific and medical knowledge. Very soon after my arrival in the
village, the young wife of one of my colleagues suffers a tragic stroke, and
dies. The normal Buddhist rituals
associated with death are observed, and there is a “get together” after my
colleague returns to the village to show our support to him. For this I send my apologies, I am far
too unwell with cold and flu to face an evening of socializing.
The lamas recommend
that additional rituals be conducted, earlier than the traditional 49 days
after death, to removed evil spirits from the house that were the cause of her
death and, I believe, to settle the sprit of the wife. This troubles and puzzles at least one
of my colleagues who has some understanding of stroke and is concerned at the
breaking with the traditional 49 days ritual, and has some trouble in
reconciling the ritual to remove the troublesome spirits with the medical cause
of death.
Another colleague,
whose mother is suffering from late stage tuberculosis, and who has a firm
understanding of the medical nature and implications of the condition, is
contributing substantial amounts of money to rituals for her mother. She tells me she knows it will not
assist her mother’s health, but is just what they do. However, we know there is psychological power in belief;
once again, “there are more things to heaven and earth Horatio….”
Towards the end of first term, a couple of
students tell me they will be going to Darchen, one of the many sacred goempa
(I think that my be tautological) in the area. Darchen Goempa is about 1000 metres above Kheni and up what
looks from here to be about a 45 degree slope. Would I like to go with
them. Of course I would, assuming
that their timing fits with when I will be in the village. They tell me that the purpose of the
visit is to ensure good karma for successful exam results at the end of the
year. I suggest that hard work and
good study habits might also help, but what do I know, I am only their teacher…..
Unfortunately the timing does not work
out. A shame, as visits to places
such as this with students can be quite enlightening, as well as being a good
opportunity to better get to know my students.
I am reminded of my night in a homestay in
Paro valley in 2013 when I observed the visiting lama in his extensive praying
and conducting of rituals involving circumambulation of prayer flags and
burning of incense to ensure the examination success of one of the sons of the
house. My thoughts about good
study habits also went through my mind at that time.
Sometimes, when I hear some of the rather
unusual medical advice, I wonder little that traditional beliefs are resorted
to. I note that the level 2 BHU at
Tshencarla had a traditional medicine unit, which many of the older people
prefer.
I was told, when my leg swelled up
immensely as a reaction to a beastie bite of some kind, that it was because I
infected the bite by scratching it with dirty fingernails. A standard analysis, I believe. I find this hard to believe as I
scratch ordinary mosquito bites and they do not swell my body to gargantuan
proportions. I do not blame the
local health workers; they have very basic, certificate level training and do
their best.
A couple of the small children are getting
blisters, similar to those I get when bitten by some, as yet unidentified,
small bug. One mother told me this
was diagnosed in her 9 month old baby as heat rash. Another told me that, after taking her 3 year old some
distance to a major hospital and waiting for an extended period to see the
doctor, she was told that her son was allergic to something and that it is up
to parents to take good care of their children.
Seriously!
I am keeping my house as clean as I can to
reduce the chance of resident bugs, I even resorted to a spray can of very
un-Buddhist Mortein, I am using Deet on a daily basis, including under my
clothing, despite its warnings about contact with synthetic fabrics and
prolonged use, I have insect screens on the windows I open, I sleep under a
mosquito net. I wash my clothes
and bed linen with a frequency that I am sure amuses my neighbours, and I still
get bites. What care is needed for
a 3 year old? Wrapping in cotton
wool? A child that age needs to explore
his world to learn. It would be
good to know what is causing the allergy, not just that there is one.
