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Material Moved

Whew! It's been a while kickwax, my old friend.

I just finished transferring all of the entries which were on the nirvanamonkey website onto this site (i.e. those entries I wrote while I was in India and Nepal). I've been working on a book for the past 8 months, hence the lack of posting on this site. Hopefully that will change though.

Home, At Last

Thirty-five hours later...and a young man returns to familiarity at last. Waiting for an additional two and a half hours on the runway in Kathmandu for the fog to clear, I wasn't sure the journey would be successful, but here we are, back in rainy old Portland. I am so tired, and not just from the plane ride.

It is difficult to sum up an entire three months' worth of experiences in a short blog entry, so I won't even try. I will, however, tell you that I met an infinite number of incredible people, was moved beyond words by the places that I traveled to, and was inspired by the stories of people who are actually out there, making a difference in their respective communities every day of their lives. The experience was a great reminder of humans' capacity for love, forgiveness, and genuine kindness.

Of course, no experience is without its trials. The trials one encounters in places like Nepal or India operate on any of a number of levels, from the crippling bureaucracy of the Indian railway system to the constant barrage of beggars seeking your assistance - on the subcontinent, the tangible and the abstract unite to challenge the core values of anyone who dares set foot within her boundaries.

And what does the future hold in store? First of all - a rest. After that? All I can say is that there are many ways to skin a cat. My experience abroad has taught me, yet again, that we should not remain attached to any one particular vocation, for there will always be something else which comes along which breathes life into us more deeply, sets our emotions free more easily, lets us be ourselves more truly. To deny this fact means denying the life that was intended for us - and that would be a real crime.

Thanks for traveling with me. In moments of both happiness and distress I sensed you all by my side, and for that, I am grateful. May you all find the thing which speaks to you most directly, most personally.

Awakenings

Most of you who know me understand that I struggle mightily with the false trappings of our modern consumer-driven culture. Over the past several months, I have devoted a considerable amount of time to figuring out the best way to deal with this seemingly endless battle, and I have come to the conclusion that I can no longer face that which awaits me back in North America. And so, I have chosen to remain here instead of returning. I hope it doesn't come as too much of a shock.

I have found myself and my life's work in the struggle of the fishermen of Kerala (a small state in Southern India). Effective immediately, I will be organizing an eco-friendly fishing co-operative to help boost the Keralan fishermen empowerment scheme. I will also be serving as chief strategist for the paramilitary wing of the NGO, creating strategies on how best to sabotage the industrial fish farming practices of the multinational corporations who set up shop off the coast of Kerala - practices which are ruining the lives and livelihoods of local fishermen through the depletion of fish stocks and the destruction of habitat. I will not be able to rest until the fishermen of Kerala have won back their waters and the resources which have been rapaciously expropriated from them. No. A re-expropriation must occur. Justice must prevail. And somehow, amongst all of this insanity, I have found peace and a deep sense of fulfillment I never thought possible.

Mom and Dad: I apologize for what I'm sure seems like a snap decision. In reality, you have probably known all along that I was more cut out for this kind of guerrilla work than chiropractic college. It took a lot of courage to make this decision, and I can only hope that you give me as much support as what you selflessly have in the past.

Seth (aka Gastroc): Could you please notify the college that I will not be enrolling for the Winter term 2007? I will miss hanging with you and D, but I hope that I can count on both of your support in this new endeavour.

Friends and Family: You will all be in my thoughts as I learn life-lessons one could only learn when they truly pursue the destiny that was laid out for them. I hope you too have the courage to follow your hearts. Please send correspondence when you get the chance. Your support means the world to me.

Who's to say where all of this will lead? It's the struggle of Keralan fishermen today...perhaps tomorrow it will be the empowerment of honey-hunters in Nepal or cycle-rickshaw drivers in Sri Lanka. Wherever there is a marginalized population, I will seek them out and work tirelessly for their cause, because in their struggle, I see a reflection of my own mortality. My only wish is that you too will one day feel the same sense of urgency I do in this regard. Godspeed everyone.

Of course, despite many elements of truth in this latest post, I am just kidding about not returning. Got'cha! My flight from Kathmandu back to Portland is still scheduled for January 5th. See you then.

Goa on the Go

Hello folks. Kind readers you all are for putting up with my paltry posting. Since the last post, Delhi, Dehra Dun, and Mumbai have all fallen. Along the way, I've met some incredible people, spoken with the leaders of numerous NGOs (several of which are world-renowned activists in their respective fields), and managed to write down a few stories which I will share with you later.

This traveler is currently re-invigorating his soul in a "cocohut" in Goa, on the coast of the Arabian Sea for the Christmas season, before making the long journey back overland to Kathmandu. Once back in Kathmandu, this traveler, who will most likely be weary again, will prepare unsuccessfully to re-immerse himself in a way of life which has unreasonable expectations and a serious lack of lustre. Will there be the vibrant colours of the saris sported by elegant Indian women? Will there be the timely use of the horn? Will there be fresh pineapple, coconut, and red snapper on the restaurant menus? Will there be holy cows lying placidly in the middle of the freeway? Somehow, I doubt it.

In Delhi, I met the son of an original hippie couple (who apparently were best friends with Ken Keasey). He told me never to go back to the craziness and scripted life which gobbles up the West like a vacuum. He was currently preparing survival bunkers for the extinction level event he warned me was imminent. He's not crazy, he's just in touch with the Soul of the World, as Paulo Coehlo might tell us (why was I the last person on the planet to discover "The Alchemist"?).

Anyhow, good readers, if you have stuck with me this long, my most sincere thanks. If you've lost interest somewhere along the way, I understand. No matter who you are, many blessings and well-wishes during this holiday season. There's certainly no snow in Goa, but the cold will arrive for this traveler soon enough. Although the prospects of returning to life in North America are not fantastic, I will look forward to catching up with each and every one of you. Until then, my friends...

Falling Off the Map

One day, I fell off the map. I woke up on the banks of Mother Ganga, unsure of how I had got there. It was warm for a change, and as I lay on my back looking up at a pink sky, the late-morning sun reinvigorated a core which had grown weary of the cold.

Mystics and water buffalo alike slowly meandered by my comfortable new seat on the ghats of Old Benares. Spirits rose from the ashes of those Hindus fortunate enough to die and be cremated there on the burning ghats, in full public view. Mark Twain once remarked that Varanasi was older than time itself (or something along those lines) - and he couldn't have been closer to the truth. One of the world's oldest living urban centres, Varanasi is unlike anything I have ever seen before. It's people-watching at its absolute finest.

There's some people here doing really good stuff. I'll tell you all about it later - I promise. Until then, Delhi here we come!

Your Ticket to a Natural High

This is such a Western thing to say, but I haven't had a warm shower in six weeks and the weather is not getting any warmer here in Nepal. I find myself stretching the duration of time between showers from one, to two, to three days or longer. They told me I would get used to it. I haven't. It's one thing if you are taking cold showers in a tropical environment, but I would not call Kathmandu in November "tropical". Well, enough of my bellyaching - I have established a routine for cleaning which thus far seems to be effective in getting the job done while minimizing the hypothermia inducing effects of the shower.

Tomorrow I will be flying up to Lukla and the Everest base camp circuit. Somebody mentioned that they have hot showers there - go figure. But the hot showers aren't the only reason I am going. There are several clinics high up - above 4000m - that I would like to check out. Apparently the doctors in one of the clinics are running a diamox trial, testing the drugs efficacy on reducing the symptoms of Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) - diamox stimulates the respiratory system to breathe more regularly. Several of the other clinics in the area are also staffed by American doctors, so it will be interesting to get their take on the health and human rights situation in Nepal. Regardless, I am looking forward to engaging the Sherpa culture, as this population has always symbolized the spirit of groups who have overcome incredible obstacles to thrive in a harsh environment. Their humor, their devotion to Buddhist principles, and their unmatched work ethic have made them some of the world's most intriguing and endearing people.

Yesterday, I spent a grand total of 7 hours waiting in line for my Indian VISA. I can't recall a more painful or frustrating process, but if I remember correctly, those aforementioned emotions are India in a nutshell. It was a reminder that life moves at a different pace in India, and it was a good test of patience for a traveler who is too used to getting their way. Anyhow, at the end of the day, my passport was returned to me with the double entry, six-month VISA properly affixed. Game on Mother India.

The 11th of November - A Day to Remember

Hello folks. I wanted to share with you some thoughtful words from an old friend of mine from the days of undergrad at UW, Laura. On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, Laura reflects...

The poppy. Have you ever wondered why we as Canadians continue to embrace the symbolism of the poppy? Why is it that as soon as the veterans and the poppy boxes are out we naturally gravitate to them in force? And why do we wear them on both our outer and inner layers? Why is it that when we lose our poppy we replace it as soon as we see the next poppy box? It doesn’t seem to matter who you are or even how old you are, it is an ingrained part of our identity as Canadians.

Lately I’ve been noticing the commitment to the poppy more and more. One of the librarians I work with is an American who commutes daily from Buffalo and to her, this poppy-wearing behaviour seemed so unusual and she became immediately curious. We’ve talked about it, what it means to people, its origins and how it is something that we all just seem to do. Like any good librarian, she has researched it and from there has decided she likes what it means and is making the choice to wear a poppy - she even picked one up for her daughter. Invariably, she comments about how she never noticed people wearing the poppy before, but now she sees it everywhere, even in the stands and on the team benches at a recent Buffalo Sabres game she attended. So, in looking through her eyes and more consciously looking for the poppy and paying attention to it's medium of expression, I see it more and more – it truly is everywhere.

The CBC, through the news, the web and regular programming, are reminding us of not only what the poppy means in remembrance of the past but also of its meaning in the present. We have connections to the past signified by the poppy but many of us hold the poppy as a symbol of hope for future peaceful generations. While I am a supporter of the poppy, I acknowledge that there are those who choose not to wear the poppy because of what it represents to them - i.e. the ideologies of war/acts of violence - and so I agree, if that is what the poppy says to you and is in opposition to your personal ideology, then definitely don’t wear it and don’t be self-conscious or ashamed for not doing so. It is a symbol, and like all symbols, it means different things to different people.

A special thanks to Laura for reminding us about the importance of remembering our past and the sacrifices of those who gave everything to ensure the freedom we enjoy today (at least in part).

To everyone, a solemn Remembrance Day/Veterans Day.

Outraged

It is believed that there are roughly 200,000 Nepali women currently working in Indian brothels - women forced into the sex trade by traffickers who trick young girls into thinking they are heading for better jobs and a better life in India. It is also believed that approximately 30,000 of these women are infected with HIV/AIDs. Another 60,000 within Nepal are also infected. The implications on individual and societal health and well-being are obvious. The trafficked women and girls experience a hell which none of us will ever understand. We can sympathize, but most of us will never be able to empathize with the level of abuse these girls have been subjected to. And it might surprise you to know that when it comes to trafficking, there are just as many women involved as there are men. That's when NGOs like the Kathmandu based, Maiti Nepal, step onto the scene and nail those guilty of trafficking, in addition to brothel owners, to the cross. Thank god there are folks out there working on behalf of these women.

The landless of Nepal, in many ways, don't fare much better. Their abuse is more structural in nature than physical, but the result is often the same: exclusion from the fruits of Nepali society and a discrimination that is perpetuated by ignorance on behalf of policy-makers. Whether the poor are landless, tenant farmers whose rights have been exploited, bonded labourers, or simply those unlucky enough to be born into the dalit caste system, these people are systematically excluded from the basic rights to citizenship status simply because neither they, nor any relative, owns a piece of land. Outrageous.

Children also have a rough go of it. Orphanages are full-to-brimming with the offspring of those killed during the fighting between rebel forces and government soldiers over the past decade. I've heard horror stories from my fellow volunteers about six children sharing a bed meant for one and other children sharing sleeping accommodation with the winter's potato stash. Children often lack diapers and end up peeing all over themselves and the floor (which they end up dragging themselves through). It appears that many of the orphanage owners are more interested in collecting the donations which filter in - donations which may never find their way to the children. Again, outrageous.

And the beggar continues to beg in the middle of the road. The lady in the chowk continues to hawk her apples and oranges in the hopes of collecting a few rupees each day. The bus fare collector continues to hoot and holler at passersby, exhorting them to step onto his bus to satisfy all of their conveyance needs. This really is the Third World.

Since we are on the topic of social justice, elections for the House and Senate are currently underway. I would encourage my American brethren to make their voice heard through the voting process. Perhaps then, the process of impeachment can be initiated to bring to justice one of the world's biggest war criminals. Please excuse my political interjection into this travel blog, but the world we live in is an intimately connected web of international relations, and what happens in one geo-political region often has wide-ranging implications in numerous others. Anyhow, I digress.

Mixed Emotions

And for the second time in as many days, you turned me away at the gates of your Indian Embassy. Please kind folks, all I want to do is submit myself to your VISA process, but your hours of operation are making Marty exceedingly frustrated!! It's definitely a special trip from my house on the fringes of Kathmandu into the craziness of the heart of the city where your compound is located, and despite my best attempts to conform to the hours of your consular service, I have been grossly unsuccessful. Apparently your embassy does not issue new VISAs on Sunday (when everybody else in the city is open for business). Who knew? Aarrgh.

On a similar note...

It's difficult to describe just how disparate the days can be here. You can have the absolute worst day imaginable, and the following day the world is full of rainbows and smiling faces. For example, last week I had a day where the only thing I successfully accomplished was taking the laundry I had hand-washed off the clothesline (and even then, the house dog, Lucky, had chewed a hole in my underwear). And then yesterday, the clouds parted to reveal a beautiful, blue afternoon sky as I made new friends with the landless, migrant community down by the river. The juxtaposition of extremes is confusing and draining. But hey, that's Nepal.

The organization I am volunteering with is preparing to receive a group of 15 from the United states in a few days time - which is by far the largest group the organization has ever entertained. Apparently the American crew is coming for the same reasons as myself; that is, to get a sense of the state of health of the average Nepali and to try to do something to raise quality of life. I'm sure the new recruits will be shocked to see just how poor the state of health is here in Nepal - from the subclinical on up to the most blatant case of leprosy, there is a lifetimes worth of work here for the ambitious healthcare provider.

Dear Disillusioned in Nepal...

Well folks, many apologies for the lack of regular updates. I have returned from Pokhara to the Kathmandu Valley for the time being, although these days, my eyes rarely stray from the jagged, white 8000m peaks of the Himalaya. I will soon be heading for those hills, to get a sense of how the issues of public health and human rights manifest themselves on the slopes of the world's greatest water towers.

Here in Kathmandu, volunteers continue to come and go in a non-stop parade of altruistic potential. In truth, most leave Nepal slightly disillusioned by the volunteer experience, feeling as though somehow their contribution did not amount to anything substantial. It would be easy to slide into this mindset if one did not remember that simply by their presence, one can offer somebody hope. In a strange twist though, the presence of relatively affluent westerners in the midst of a sea of poverty perhaps serves more often than not to remind people of the lifestyle and the material existence they will never achieve, despite considerable attempts to emulate the life of westerners. There is clearly no easy answer, and the process is one I continue to grapple with.

The pollution is again becoming overwhelming. In the mornings, I wake up and blow my nose only to find a disgusting accumulation of yellow phlegm in the kleenex. I am beginning to understand why the incessant horking of snot into the street occurs. I am also beginning to understand why the average Nepali only lives to 58 years of age. This knowledge makes it urgently apparent that somebody here has got to step up and be a stud - Nepal needs a leader and a unified approach which will see the country through the hard times; somebody to help alleviate the ubiquitous abuses of human rights which meet the eye no matter where one turns. The NGOs and INGOs can only shoulder so much of the burden.