"Let me stand next to your fire" or "'Come in,' she said, 'I'll give you shelter from the storm.'"

When I visited Kathmandu in the summer of 2008, I volunteered at a daycare center and school. The woman who founded and runs the operation is Bina, a remarkabley inspiring, savvy, and relentlessly hospitable person. Before leaving Nepal my first time, she assured me that I always had a free place to stay if ever I returned. Since getting back from Dubai, Mike and I have taken her up on that offer and have been sleeping in the main hall of the daycare center, and it has been wonderful.

Before I discuss Bina and the school, though, I want to mention our afternoon visit to Pashupatinath, the most sacred Hindu temple in Kathmandu (probably in all of Nepal). Unfortunately, non-Hindus are not allowed to enter the temple itself, but there is plenty to see and experience around the grounds. There are Sadhus (religious ascetics), adorned in outlandish garb and decorated with colorful paint. Some of these are sincere spiritual seekers, but many of them are more interested in earning an extra buck posing for tourist photos. Regardless, they add to the out-of-this-world vibe that Pashupatinath emits. In addition to the Sadhus, there are laypersons around enjoying their afternoons and worshipping at any of the many Hindu shrines that dot the complex.

Sadhus sitting around the temple grounds.



Meditating Sadhu.

Resting Sadhus.

To be honest, I wanted to visit Pashupatinath for a very specific reason: open-air cremation ceremonies. I know that sounds awfully dark (and perhaps a bit twisted), but I have always had a reverential fascination with Hindu funerals and cremation rites. Allen Ginsberg, I once read, used to spend all of his days in India watching these somber ceremonies occur on the banks of the Ganges. It was his favorite thing to do in the country. He found it peaceful and awe-inspiring. I don't know what I expected from the cremation rituals, but I knew that I wanted to witness one while in South Asia. The temple of Pashupatinath sits along the dirty Bagmati River. Because Nepal is still a society riddled with class/caste distinctions, only certain people can be cremated in the area right beside the temple. The poorer, more common people hold their ceremonies about 200 feet downstream, which is where most of them take place.

On one side of the river, there are about 5 cement platforms jutting out over the shallow, polluted river. Throughout the course of an hour or so, we saw 4 cremations in progress. When a funeral occurs, a pyre is constructed using big logs. Then, the lifeless body, wrapped in cloth, is laid upon the pyre and covered with dry straw. After that, with a crowd of family and friends around, the bottom of the logs are set ablaze. Smoke billows out from the stack, and the people look at it sullenly until they all eventually trickle away. After a little while, the pyre is reduced to a smoldering campfire containing ashen human remains, which are then swept into the Bagmati River.

I am not going to pretend that I had some life-altering revalation while witnessing the cremations. However, watching the funerals from the opposite side of the river, I could not help but feel a sense of somber appreciation. I have always liked the idea of cremation--ashes to ashes, dust to dust, et cetera, et cetera. There is something wonderful about the way in which cremation expedites this process of returning us to unconcious matter. Eventually, it happens to everyone. At the risk of sounding crass, we all ultimately become worm food and fertilizer. Regardless of one's religious (or non-religious) opinion about an eternal soul, nobody can deny this fact about the physical body. For this reason, I have never fully understood things like embalming fluids and lacquered caskets. Perhaps this is why I found the Hindu cremation rites so moving--no frills, no illusions. In the burning funeral pyres, there exists an inherent acceptance of one's body returning to a state of ash and dust, so to speak. I could ramble about this forever, and that's a blog entry for another day. In any event, it was a really beautiful thing to see.

Pre-cremation funeral pyre all prepared.

 

Early in the blaze.

Cremation with the Bagmati River below.

As I mentioned in the first paragraph of this entry, Mike and I have been staying at a school and daycare center. The organization has been very close to my heart since I first volunteered here in 2008. Basically, the center offers a safe, educational, fun, and (most importantly) free place for parents to leave their children while they go to work. Often, the children come from single-mother homes in which the father is either dead, drunk, abusive, absent, or otherwise not in the picture. This creates a situation in which women must do manual labor to barely make ends meet (at best). However, they cannot get any work with infants and toddlers tied to their backs, and thusly the cycle of poverty perpetuates. Bina, the founder of the organization, used to work at an orphanage in Kathmandu, and she saw many mothers who would plead for the orphanage to take their children only for a short time so that they could earn some money for food. This spawned the initial idea for a free daycare center, and it has been hugely successful ever since. Several newspapers and magazines in Nepal have done well deserved feature stories on Bina, for she is an inspiring and relentlessly compassionate individual.

Play time at the school.

The recently built addition.

Thanks to the tireless work of Bina and the support of donors from all over the world, the school has undergone some major changes since I was here in 2008. It has doubled in size. They have hired three teachers to implement "real" lesson plans for early education. They offer a nutritional meal to the children every day. However, Bina's charitable days never really end. Staying at her home is like being in the most ecclectic boarding house imaginable. First, there is her family--husband, daughter (Saluna), and son (Ashish). Then, there is Nan, one of the daycare workers, and her son (Rem). Additionally, there are the constant foreign volunteers--at the moment, there are two Americans (Mike and myself), one Danish girl, and two Dutch volunteers all working at the school. Beyond this strange mix of people, there is a young orphan girl who Bina's family has taken in. They have not officially adopted her (I don't think), but she sleeps here and is treated like one of the family. Finally, it is not uncommon for one or two of the children to stay until the late hours of the night, when they can finally be picked up by a parent or sibling. In truth, I never REALLY know who is related and who is not. The cast is constantly changing, and everyone who stays here is treated as family, including the foreign volunteers. We are fed 3 (absurdly large) meals every day, and we are given a comfortable place to sleep in spite of the already crowded, boarding-house feel of the home. What's more, we are only expected to help out around the school in return. I often feel guilty because I know that, even though we are supposed to be the do-gooders, we can never repay the kindness shown to us by Bina and her family. A few hours of playing with kids each day has not earned us the free room and board.

At the end of the day, the organization is about the kids. When I first visited here, the small school was just a drop-off place for children with no place else to go. While it still serves that important social purpose today, it has also transformed into a fully functional daycare and early education center. It's truly amazing what Bina has done. Having returned, I can see the difference she has made in the lives of specific children. Bina packs pounds onto undernourished children. She patiently helps students spell words in English. She has an almost unbelievable rapport with the younger children (ages 0-3), who respect her and love her dearly. Bina has a real passion for helping children, and in doing so she purposefully helps their parents escape the shackles of poverty. The plan is perfect in its simplicity, and it works. It is impossible not to be touched by the positive effects of Bina's efforts. I have never seen such adorable, happy children from such strained backgrounds:

A bi-weekly music class that Bina has arranged with a local musician.

The school depends on outside support, and it is a registered non-profit. If you would like to donate, please let me know. I can assure you that your money will be allocated honestly and wisely on food, scholarships (to help the children go to private schools when they come of age), books, and equipment. I can send literature to anyone who requests it. If you happen to have a slightly heavy wallet and a desire to help an organization that makes a real, measurable difference, this is a great way to do that. Bina has learned to stretch donations as far as they will go, so anything and everything helps a great deal. Let me know. (Sorry for the Public Service Announcement. I got carried away, but it is a very worthy cause if you're in the market.)

That's all for now. Barring any weather-related problems, Mike and I will be doing some extended trekking starting next week, which I'm very excited about. It's supposed to be some of the most beautiful scenery in the Himalayas, so hopefully the weather will permit us to go. Until then, I look forward to hearing from all of you.

"Be well, do good work, and keep in touch."


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