Note: Click on each thumbnail to see a full size photo.

I just had a reunion of sorts a few weeks ago …..with a beautiful, young Nepali woman. I used to meet her on the streets almost every day, but I hadn’t seen her for so long that I was afraid something dire had happened. I included her in part of a sermon once as a prospective Martha Stewart for her spunk and determination to sell and prosper.

Her name is Sanu Nepali, Sanu means “Little One.” Nepali is a common name, very low caste, as opposed to the surname Nepal, which is the name of the previous Prime Minister. Sanu is a hard working street girl who obviously loved her job as she was omnipresent, hitting on the tourists. Sanu carried a little babe on her back and begged foreigners to buy her a carton of powdered milk for her baby brother. It is a scam, of course. A scam that kept her alive, taught her English, and touched many in a multitude of ways. For example, I once found her in a greasy spoon with a foreigner…some good-hearted soul trying to learn Nepali from her in exchange for some lunch. But Sanu didn’t know grammar or parts of speech, so it is next to fruitless to learn a foreign language this way (I know this from experience!), unless you enter their world and learn their language “Are not!  Am too!”

I will never forget the day, maybe 7 or 8 years ago, when I rounded a back street near my Guest House and chanced upon this little one about to scam two young women, probably Brits or Aussies, into buying milk for her baby brother. I caught Sanu with her “babe on her back” just as they were reaching into their purses. Quickly, I blurted out to them that it was a ruse and to put their money away. I felt a bit proud of myself for discouraging children from begging….

Well, a few days later, I stopped at an outdoor snack shack for “finger chips” (french fries), when a little girl came by and stuck her tongue out at me. Taken aback, and not recognizing her from a 100 other dirty little street urchins, I quipped, “Whats that for?”

Little Sanu, put her hands on her hips and said, “Don’t you remember? Milk for my brother?”

“Oh, Dear!”….and now I felt a sense of shame descend upon me. I recalled how noble I felt at the time, and not a thought about the impact of my actions on this little girl. Quickly, I responded, “Please come up here and join me for some finger chips.” Sanu climbed up on the stool and with her dirty little hands, hungrily dug in. So, now it was my turn to gain the upper ground by reasoning with her.

It just so happened that at this very time, my staff and I had been working the river banks in Katmandu helping the squatters living there. We set up a tent school in the morning, and I worked it as a clinic in the afternoon with amazing results that still reverberate today, but that’s another story to share in another installment in a few weeks. The point is that my staff had been pressuring me to support them in their condemnation of their lifestyle of begging…which I was debating with myself–I wanted to support my staff, who understand the cultural norms, but who was I standing outside their culture and passing  judgement? So, I guess some of that must have rubbed off on me when I had encountered Sanu and was being judgmental and interfering.

So, as Sanu and I were enjoying our finger chips, I asked her questions and  began building my defense. “Sanu, don’t you know that begging is bad?”

At which point, she sat up straight and tall, fire leapt into her eyes, and she looked me in the eye and said defiantly, “Sir, Begging not bad. Stealing bad!”

“Wow, from the mouths of babes….,” I thought.  I could’ve reverted to building my case again, but it would’ve been pointless. It was black and white to her, and I knew that she had me. I smiled, and said. Yes, Sanu, you are right. I was wrong. When we are done here, let us go to the store, and I will buy you some food….I remember, we held hands on the way there, and she picked out a box of cookies.

The next day, when I visited the squatters on the mud flats, I told our staff that they were living here in squalor instead of in their homes back in their village in order to beg. They had traveled all ths way to make their livelihood, and I am sure, it was a carefully rendered decision. So, it was up to them to want to change their lifestyle, not up to us to make them quit. Our job was to teach school and to treat their illnesses . As a result, to this day we are welcomed on the mud flats and greeted back in their home village 100 miles away whenever we stop by. We are respected for simply being their friends and helping them on their terms. Consequently, the kids we later mainstreamed into government schools are now too old to beg with their mothers, and are still in school! I may write about their remarkable progress later.

Sanu and I have been friends ever since. I never bought into her scam, but later she was into selling little brocade purses, and those I would buy from her. But then, like I said, she had been missing from the streets. Years had gone by, and many times I wondered what had come of that little charmer. I feared that she might be selling more than just purses, but dispelled the thought with….”She has too much self respect and drive.”

Well, Like I said, this week, as I was turning down a little alley to deliver my laundry, I caught sight of a pretty, young Nepali woman. I did a double take, and couldn’t quite place her. I tried English first: “Haven’t we met?”

She beamed, and said, “Don’t you remember? Milk money?”

I couldn’t believe it; so many years had gone by….I couldn’t even remember her name! “Yes, yes, of course,” I said, ”And YOU still remember the “Milk money!” How many tourists she must have tapped for a handout, and still that incident was as important to her as it was to me! “Tell me your name.”

“Sanu,” she said.

“Oh, Sanu,” and we hugged. Well, we played catch-up over tea, and I found out that she was now 19 and in the 9^th grade, and sure enough, she had indeed charmed a sponsor  into sending her to a private boarding school. Because the Strikes had shut down the schools, Sanu had come back to her old neighborhood and was helping her “auntie” in a back alley restaurant.

The next day I introduced her to Mary Jane who knew her only from the sermon, and we all relished the story once again, “Begging not Bad, Stealing Bad!”

Note: Click on each thumbnail to see a full size photo.

Having talked extensively about  our travels, I want to talk about our achievements beyond just our oversight and letter delivery duties.

For the past couple of years I have made the opportune and warm friendship of Rob Rose, a photographer in Bellevue, WA. Rob has a program (www.trfic.com) that works with all kinds of “specially abled” children in Nepal. He has networked with all kinds of people and organizations in Nepal in addition to cross-linking with local Rotarians all over Nepal. Mary Jane and I first linked up with Som back in 1997 when we were all working for HRDC, the Hospital and Rehabilitation Center for disabled children.  Of course, MJ had a leg up on all of us with her 25 years of special ed teaching to begin with. Over the years we have helped educate a number of HRDC children.

Well, it was back in those days at HRDC where Som first encounter Rakesh who must have been about 10 years old. Rakesh has O.I., or osteogenesis imperfecti, a genetic disease in which bone is not properly laid down and is weak. Some variants have brittle bones which break easily; some have bones that do not ossify and are pliable. The latter seems to mimic Ricketts (vitamin D or sunlight deficiency) and  predominates in Nepal, and we even have such a case Ram that we had picked up and referred to HRDC for surgical correction. Ram is the brother of a little girl Shova who gave us fits because she kept skipping school, but who is now in the 9^th grade and  5^th in her class. Her sponsor Harry in Seattle has bent over backwards to keep Shova off the streets….and as soon as he learned that the surgery was a success and that Ram could stand up and walk for the very first time (he was 4 or 5).

Rakesh has the brittle bone variety for which there is no surgical correction beyond repairing the multiple fractures these children sustain. Like Rakesh these children are of short stature as a result. Rakesh has 3 sisters. One who is married and out, one who is a few years younger, and one who had his condition and died around the age of 22-23—Rakesh’s current age.  Som figures that unless something is done, the same fate awaits him before too long. Rakesh is lke Rapunzel, locked away in a tower with no escape. He has a few callers, Som and I, who climb three sets of stairs that are harder than climbing up braids of hair to reach Rakesh in order to visit occasionally and deliver some magazines. Rakesh when he was younger, smaller, would be carried down the stairs and placed in a wheel chair and go to school which Paula Doyle, our President, along with a group of friends sponsored. This lasted about two years and he has been able to develop his own reading skills on his own along with survival skills like knitting. I remember when a big sack of mittens, scarves and hats arrived in the mail for us to sell. I went ballistic over having to now become a hawker, too, but Paula stepped up to the plate and was able to sell them all. All this to say that Rakesh never complains, always wears a smile, is so glad to see anyone, and has some real talent and initiative. However, his father is older, his older sister gone, and those stairs are deadly if you tried to carry him or the wheel chair down the stairs.

Rakesh and Rob

Well, remember Rob? Last year Rob, as is his wont, came to Nepal to ride elephants with a host of specially abled children, along with doing a hundred other things. I had told Rob about Rakesh and asked Som to invite him to meet Rakesh….I don’t know if Rob was as horrified at his situation or was simply enchanted with Rakesh’s warm personality, but Rob mobilized his forces, Rotarians, govt and hospital agencies, NGOs. By the time I arrived in Nepal, a complete evaluation had been done, including a recommendation—Rakesh should be relocated to a bedroom apartment at Jorpati’s Home for the Disabled in Katmandu (about a half hour drive from Rakesh’s tenement apartment in Bhaktapur).  It would cost a $100 a month to be located there, but would include medical access and coverage.  But as importantly, he would be a hired as a handicraft teacher at the facility, and paid a small allowance!

As soon as we returned from the two weeks of travels in the bush, we visited Rakesh, Jorpatti, and some of those managing his case. Rakesh was excited about the possibility, so the Social Workers arranged for him to visit and see the place for himself. I have no idea how they brought him down the stairs…they are steep, dark, and only about 5 feet of clearance to the flight coming down overhead.  At any rate, they did it and we met him, his married sister, and the social worker at Jorpatti…he was grinning from ear to ear! It was a done deal, we thought.

That evening Som got a call from the family saying they wouldn’t sign on. Too bad for them, I thought, until Som explained to me that the legal rights of the disabled in Nepal are owned by the family…they had to sign their consent on the dotted line, not Rakesh! I couldn’t believe it. The disappointment we all felt, not just for all the work we put in, but for Rakesh….now, he would be destined to die like his sister. At this point, with my Western mentality, I had two quick fixes: bribe or Gurkha knife their consent!  Som, in his Nepali frame of mind, was accepting: Ke garne (it can’t be helped. Live with it!).

About a week later, we heard back from Rakesh. He must have either convinced his father and sister, or made them feel so guilty that they gave in and consented to a one month trial.  We jumped on it before anyone could change their mind, and the next day had him seeded into his new quarters. Som initially felt that this trial would be a bust because Bhaktapur Newars (the ethnic group to which Rakesh family belong) are so conservative that they have a hard time adjusting to anything that’s not traditional.

Som and Rakesh in his new home

Throughout the first week, Som was getting daily phone calls from Rakesh reporting how great he found this new home to be, and the new friends he is making, etc, etc…Finally, Som got a call from him saying that he wanted to enroll in a school over there!  At 25, and entering the 5^th grade, he would be their oldest student, but they were open to it! Talk about take charge…Rakesh didn’t ask anyone; he just sought it our and decided he wanted to do it. All the Social workers were emailing each other about Rakesh, so I have to share this one with you:

Dear All,

Latest and great news that Rakes dialed me yesterday night at 10 and he wants to go disabled school in Jorpati and I just dialed Mr. Rudra to manage everything for his school. So things are going well. I don’t know when this boy is going to stop dialing me at night and my busy time…….!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Som

To be followed by this email from the head of NAD Home at Jorpati:

Dear Som sir,

I was also desperately hunting you after Rudra could not reach you about Rakesh’s enrollment in NDA school.

I am glad you confirmed to Mr. Rudra. Else I had requested Mr. Rudra to please consider till tomorrow until I obtain consent from Rob and Earle.

I am glad to share the feeling of 14 years NDA career of Mr. Rudra, who has not come across any person as happy as Rakesh in NDA premises.

He feels very good to be part of this achievement.

Regard

Rajan

Rakesh

Well, it is not everyday you read about fairytales coming true. But, Rapunzel did make it out of his tower and found his new home-charming, and hopefully will live happily ever after. I don’t know how long Rakesh will live, but there is no question in my mind that his quality of life has made a phenomenal leap skyward, and this alone should carry him a long ways. And should something dire happen, the hospital is just down the hall, not down three death-ladened staircases and across town! What also brings joy to my heart is that I am sure that the other residents there are also benefitting from Rakesh’s outgoing personality. A diamond has no sparkle unless it is brought out for all to see.

Rob must believe in fairy tales, too, because he offered to pay $600, or half of the annual cost of Rakesh’s apartment, if ANSWER could come up with the other half.  I initially told our board that paying for the home of a disabled person was not part of our mission, but what did they think?…They agreed with several dissensions. So, I personally covered the initial trial month just to see if the darn thing would fly.

But now, if Rakesh is going to school, this changes everything. (Honest, I didn’t even know there was a school! This was divine intervention –God having his laugh!) ANSWER’s mission is to support students, especially potential leaders. You read the assessment  of Mr. Rudra that he has never met anyone in his 14 year career as happy as Rakesh is in his new home and that even Mr . Rudra is ecstatic, is a sure sign that others too are thrilled.  He is a pigeon let out of the coop and is spreading his wings—socializing, teaching handicrafts, and returning to school, at last.

Finally, if any of you out there would like to help sponsor Rakesh, please email Lisa (lisa.durham@gmail.com) or me (jecan314@gmail.com). Yes, you will be writing to him and getting  a letter back from our new student, his photo, report card and a drawing, too. Deadline for your letter is August 1, so please let us know right away. Dhanyabaad (thanks).