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Emily Lambert writes...

...about her experience while volunteering in Nepal.

3rd February 2005
My first full day in Nepal!

Yesterday we arrived to the news that the King had just sacked his government. So instead of staying in Kathmandu for a few days of training, we were taken straight to the training village of Bistochap. As we drove off in the VSN (Volunteer Services Nepal previously known as CERV Nepal) I witnessed my first sight of Nepal in daylight. It was all so fascinating; vibrant, busy and somewhat dishevelled looking. All the closed shops of the previous evening were now open and bustling with activity, with a never-ending array of clothes and ornaments on display. It all seemed so colourful.

The roads are narrow, with cars, tuk-tuks, bikes and rickshaws all fighting for their position on the road. And there were so many people milling about-you would have never thought a national emergency had been declared the previous day. As we moved out of the city (I don't know how I didn't see any accidents happen due to the crazy driving), I soon became aware of my surroundings-huge hills covered in bottle green forests towered over Kathmandu. I say hills, but they are the size of England's mountains! The whole journey took a bumpy one and a half hours, and with each bump we moved further into the rural parts of the Kathmandu valley.

Bistochap village is quite small, and runs along a gravely dirt track, high hills looming behind. Stretching in front is the valley floor, every inch of which is covered by intricately arranged fields, cut into the land at different heights. Behind these, a few other villages are dotted at the base of more magnificent hills, whose green tips stretch up into the deep blue sky.

Everywhere you walk you see children playing in the street, women carrying buckets of washing or baskets of spinach or potatoes from the fields. The houses are so very basic as we know them. Even though this is one of the less poor villages, it is as far below the poverty line that I have ever experienced seeing, let alone lived in. The way of life here is so simple. Most families have their own plot of land, where they grow their own food, and have cows and goats for milk. Washing takes place at the communal tap (the water is teeth jittering cold) and the charpi (toilet, if you dare refer it as such) are a basic hole in the ground in a hut at the back of the house.

The children are so innocent. They find so much pleasure in playing with marbles or elastic bands. I didn't ever hear parents shouting at their children. They seem very well behaved and polite, with a wonderful youthfulness and sense of happiness. And they don't complain. They have no comprehension of the way children in the west live, and how little they have in comparison. They seem content with what they have.

It has not yet sunk in that I'm here.

We spent the day meeting the host family that we will be living with for the next eight days and the other volunteers. We experienced our first taste of chyia (nepali tea) and had our first language lesson. The purpose of the training village is to accustom the volunteers to Nepali life, while offering the support of other volunteers and VSN staff. There are twenty volunteers here altogether, all living with different families. Anna (who I am travelling with) and I are placed in a house with a volunteer from Australia, called Rosa and who is lovely.

Soon enough the evening was upon us and it was daal bhaat time! It was also my first experience of eating with my hands-and what an experience it was to be! We took our shoes off and ventured into the dark, cold house, along the corridor and into the kitchen area. This was a smoky brick room with a small stove on the floor with a fire underneath. On one wall was a wooden shelf lined with various spices, while on anther was a small statue of a Hindu god decorated with yellow flowers. The sole window gave a view of the neighbours' wall.

We sat on the floor with our legs crossed. I felt like I had gone back in time. A metal tray was placed in front of me and I watched with wide-eyes as our Didi (host mum) distributed potato, saag and rice onto the tray. We were also given a small round dish, into which was slopped daal. I looked in both amazement and wonder at my surroundings and the food that I was to eat in front of me. I didn't have a clue where to start!

I watched and started to copy Rosa, who had already been here for a day. So very tentatively I poured the daal over my rice and started to mix it together with my right hand. You are not allowed to use your left hand when eating as this hand is reserved for charpi-related necessities. It was so difficult. You have to use your hand as a scoop and somehow transfer the food into your mouth without spilling it all down yourself (which of course I failed miserably at!). Despite the trauma over eating with my hands I soon became most intrigued as I watched the Didi make a roti. She rolled what looked like bread dough into many small circles on a wooden board. She then placed them on a flat-pan over the fire, which she stocked with bits of wood or corn gurnalls. I gratefully accepted my first taste of home made roti. It was delicious and a great help towards reducing daal bhaat spillage. During the meal little was said between us all, as we hadn't learnt enough nepali yet to converse. But what an experience!!

After eating (took us about half an hour to eat, with our food becoming colder with each passing minute) we quickly washed our hands using a bucket of water at the front of the house.

Exhaustion soon took over and I headed to bed. What a first day-life here is so so different - more so than id ever imagined. But already I love it.

10th February 2005
Today we were brought to our placement in Lamatar, where Anna and I will be teaching English at the local school. The previous week we had visited the school and our host family to be, and so thankfully we had some idea of what to expect. I was excited and somewhat nervous, as we set off for our awaiting temporary, but very different life. I couldn't wait to get settled in and start teaching.

After a 40 minute bumpy ride, through towns and up hills, we arrived at our school. It is very basic, consisting of a brick block with 3 small classrooms with barred windows. Despite its severe appearance, I am so excited by the prospect of working there-I really really want the children to benefit from our presence, hopefully they will.

All the school children watched as we unloaded our bags and carried them up to the house. Although shy, they all seemed very intrigued by our arrival, and there was definitely a wisp of excitement in the air.

Our host family lives up a small quaint path about 40 yards up hill from the school. We greeted our family, who all seem very nice and met us with beaming smiles. The house is very old and so pretty. Its coloured deep orange and grey, with a shed for the cow and goat on one side, and a beautiful guest room adjoined to the other. The kitchen is basic and built around the base of two trees, with stairs leading up to what I presume to be a bedroom. Grapefruit and orange trees overhang the house, which at the time had a black and white cat sitting on its doorstep. It is idyllic. Even the charpi is clean in comparison to some that I have seen over the past week! As for the view from the house: wow, it's spectacular. From the house you look over the Kathmandu valley, with Kathmandu city in its hill-enclosed basin. Behind this you can see the beginning of the Himalaya mountain range. On an evening the sunset seems to shine like a spot light on the mountains. The view is spine tinglingly sensational. Can't believe that I'm here.

We went down to the school and introduced ourselves to the children, who all seem adorable. There are about 25 children in total at the secondary school-a great number as you can really get to know them. We walked down the hill to the primary school, where we met with some of the other teachers and organised when we would teach. I found it extraordinary that none of the teachers could speak English, apart from the English teacher, who can speak a little. This was quite a naive expectation of mine and it soon became clear that not every school has the opportunity to be taught by someone who can speak even a little English, let alone have people from England teaching them. The children in the primary school are also very sweet. Some try as hard as they can to get your attention, while others shy away. The nepali lessons that we had in bistochap have been brilliant, as we can now communicate with the children, who find our nepali accents most intriguing. It was decided that we would teach three lessons a day between 10.15 and 12.30, and then a fourth between 2.00 and 2.45. Im so excited to get started.

As we walked through the village everyone we passed stopped to say hello (although some people did just stare). Many of the children break into nervous giggles when we say 'namaste'. We got chatting to a man who took us for a walk around Lamatar. I am so so lucky to be situated here in Lamatar. It runs along a winding road, with houses sporadically dotted along the road side or set slightly further back. The view is truly breath-taking.

Following the walk the man took us to his house where we met his family and were given chiya and kajaa (snack of beaten rice). Everyone seems very welcoming, although I found it a little overwhelming not being able to understand their language very well yet.

At six we headed back to our ghar ready for our first night in Lamatar. Outside the house we found our Baa (father) sat over a plate of hot coals, so we all huddled around and made conversation using our bity nepali. Like in Bistochap, once the sun goes down the temperature plummets to near freezing. At 6.45 we were told to wash our hands ready for eating, although I was feeling rather full from the kajaa earlier (this was soon to become a re-occurring problem!)

The daal bhaat was very nice-much tastier than the daal bhaat in bistochap. We were also given rice with hot milk (called dude bhaat) that tasted like savoury rice pudding-this was truly yum. The family found my method of eating highly amusing, and tried to show me the right way to do it (how many ways can there be to eating with your hands?!). After eating I started to use my left hand to pick up bits of rice that I had dropped on to the floor, and was quickly informed that my left hand could not even be used for this. After we had finished (having eaten more rice in one sitting than I previously thought possible) we were shown the 'proper' way to clean your hands and mouth, rinse and spit out the water in true nepali fashion. I have to say it's very difficult to adjust to another family's way of life, let alone having to cope to a complete new culture. Our Didi in Bistochap didn't seem to mind so much about such details, where-as here I'm waiting to make the next mistake! They are very lovely though, and are really making an effort.

The only son of the family is working away in Malasyia, while his wife, Punimar, and their two year old daughter, Nisa, lives with the rest of his family. Punimar, who is also 23, is very kind to us, and she wouldn't let us tidy up after the meal, and whenever we are sat on the floor she comes to put a stool under us. In Nepalese culture a husband's wife will move in with the husband's family, even if he then goes away for work. So she is here with her husband's family, with her daughter, and she seems to work so hard all day while looking after her daughter. It is crazy to think that she is the same age as me and that her life couldn't be more different.

After eating we read for a bit in our freezing cold room (the house of course has no heating, and there are cracks along the rims of the door, so it feels as cold in our room as it does outside). The room is also smoky as we have a door going into the kitchen, which has no means of ventilation. Cooking on the open fire bellows smoke throughout he house. The bedcovers also feel somewhat damp!

I climbed into bed wearing three layers of clothing, a woolly hat, and prayed for an electric blanket.

28th February 2005
Last full day in Lamatar. Feeling ready to leave, although I think I could have stayed for longer, but only if I could have a few days in Kathmandu every so often. It has been very intense being here for nearly three weeks without a break. But I'm also feeling sad to be going.

Today was another typical school day where it was anything but what was to be expected! This involved not teaching but having a dancing day!

At the lower school we found a group of about eight girls from the secondary school beautifully dressed in traditional Nepali clothing, jewellery and makeup. They looked great. The day was to apparently consist of the school watching while some of the students performed dances that they had been practicing for weeks. It had been planned for later in the week, but they brought it forward as we are leaving tomorrow.

Even though the teaching style and standards are very different here, the teachers really do do lots of fun activities with the children-who really enjoy school. They are allowed to play, have fun, have dances, have quizzes, and in return they are hard working and respectful in the classroom. The vast difference between schooling here and at home, and the attitude of the teachers and the students, never ceases to amaze me.

We had to wait for about an hour while the boys tried to connect a tape player to a wire from the window of a house overlooking the playground (which was temporarily our dance arena). They then attached some huge speakers, and I have no idea how they didn't blow anyone or anything up! We then had to wait even longer while the girls found which tape of the thousands they had, contained the right songs. In the meantime we sat at work benches, waiting patiently with the teachers, while some of the younger children found great amusement trying to see how many flower petals they could balance on our heads!

Eventually the dancing commenced. It was very entertaining, and even though some of them forgot routines, burst out laughing or made mistakes it didn't matter-they were enjoying themselves. Everyone was - laughing, giggling, and clapping along to the music.

At two we had to go home as today our family were celebrating the death of the Baa's farther. The family had been cooking all of yesterday and today in preparation. In Nepal the anniversary of someone's death is marked by a celebration of their life, whereby the family prepare humungous quantities of food and invite the entire village to eat.

We arrived back at our ghar, having prepared ourselves for more rice consumption to find many people sat on mats outside the front of the house with the rest of our family. We immediately became the focus of attention. Everyone loves to discuss our views of Nepal, how 'Ramro' (beautiful) it is, how 'Mito cha' (delicious) the food is, what England is like, and if we would be happy for them to arrange marriages for us! There was one girl, who wasn't so nice though. She was probably the same age as us, and she found me highly amusing in quite an unpleasant way, making me feel a bit like a caged animal being laughed at.

Soon enough we were washing our hands ready for the feast. In the kitchen sat the largest pots of food I have ever seen! We were given a mountain of rice, cauliflower, spinach, potato and roti (yes! Finally! And three of them!). As usual, it was very good, although perhaps as they were cooking for the whole village, it was eye wateringly spicy! We then received the most wonderful treat. Everyday we've been eating rice with milk (fresh from their cow), but today they had also added sugar, cinnamon and coconut. It was exquisite! yum!

So many people came and went, and ate. We all sat and chatted, took some photos, and played with the children. It was a lovely way to spend our last afternoon.

Then the most extraordinary thing happened. The Baa asked for my journal so that he could write his address for me to send him photos, which id already offered to do. He wrote his address. Following this he wrote his bank address and account number, and finally wrote 'please send photos and money'!!!!! I was so shocked and at first felt really angry that my stay here had been unappreciated and my purpose unrecognised. However, after a few moments hiding away in the sanctuary of my room, I realised that he was not trying to do either. The different worlds in which we live might as well be universes. The mere fact that I have the ability to travel out of my country puts me well beyond arms reach, something that regardless of my contribution here, will lead people to ask for money.

Later we went for a walk and found a secluded spot in a wood to burn some of our rubbish. Walking back we passed a boy that I sometimes play football with, who gave me a beautiful laligorash (rhododendron), which is their national flower and apparently edible. I decided it would be nice to give it to Punimar as we get on really well and ill be sad to say goodbye to her tomorrow. Arrived back at the house and before I could reach Punimar, who was in the kitchen, Surita (the eldest daughter of the family) said I should give the flower to Nisa, Punimar's daughter. Hiding my disappointment I gave the flower to little Nisa. Within two minutes Nisa had thrown it on the floor, and within three minutes the girl who had laughed at me earlier had eaten the beautiful flower intended for Punimar in its entirety! Couldn't believe it!!

1st March 2005
Left the placement today!!

Woke as usual at 6.30 and was far too excited at the prospect of a hot bath later to press snooze. Packed and said goodbye to our aamaa who was going off for the day. We took some photos and wished her farewell, saying for one last time 'Mito mito daal bhaat' (most of our conversations with the aamaa involved at least 10 mentions of 'mito cha'). She was always very sweet with us. I could never converse much with her, but she always tried to make sure that we liked her cooking-which was in fact very delicious!!

Ate for the last time with my hands! I'm certainly not going to be going near rice for a long long time (although dude bhaat is so yummy, that I might just be tempted to some rice pudding)! Finished packing, which was quite an achievement with little Nisa pulling everything out of my bags as I put them in. Had a walk around the village and took some final photos. We bumped into many of our school children outside school and played eye spy. Its great knowing that the games we've played with them they've really enjoyed. I know that in just a few weeks it's impossible to make a long-lasting impact on their English. So we have tried to be as enthusiastic as possible during lessons, having fun and playing games that practice English and improve pronunciation. Their English is good but their pronunciation is very poor (it's often difficult for us to understand the English teachers' pronunciation).

I have really enjoyed the teaching and I've even adapted well into working by 'Nepali time'. Being here has made me feel so much more at ease with life. If something happens late, or not at all, it doesn't matter and isn't worth worrying about. Being here has opened my eyes so much to the way we live in England. We all watch our clocks, and rush about and get anxious over many things that are unimportant. I quite like the way families live together, seemingly content and living so basically. The west is so very materialistic and money orientated. And yet I would never choose to live here permanently, where you marry and have to live with your husbands' family, with tradition regulating so much of life. There seems to be less freedom of expression and less ability to be different or individual.

There are so many positives and negatives to both these worlds.

The teachers ushered us into one of the classrooms, where the English teacher had written a good luck message on the board. We sat down and all the teachers gave us tikkas. Then one by one the children gave us malas (flower necklaces) and individual flowers-we had sooo many. It was really moving and so sweet of them. We had only taught them for three weeks and yet they had gone to so much effort to make us feel appreciated. I was certainly touched.

We heard the cerv truck pull up outside and walked back to our ghar for the last time, where Punimar gave us tikkas and more malas she had made. She has been so kind and welcoming. Surita (a daughter of the family who has not yet married) watched us expectantly, eager for a parting gift. The disappointment in her eyes was not hidden as we descended the steps, away from the house. Outside the school all the children, teachers and some of the locals sat ready to wave us off. It's not until moments like this that you realise how many people's lives you've touched, and how many have touched you.

We climbed into the truck, still drowning in all our malas, and waved out the back window to everyone as the truck bumped away and round the bend.

Anna and I sat in silence as we drove the 45 minute journey to Kathmandu. I was feeling such a mix of emotions. My overwhelming feeling was one of relief and utter excitement to have a few days of washing myself in Kathmandu accompanied with some much needed solitude. It was very intense where we were, and I would have had to have had a break for a few days if I was to return. Anyone would feel the same living in such a different culture, where everyone wants your attention and wants to feed you (which does have its benefits!) However, I have been so happy to have been placed in Lamatar. I was genuinely sad to be leaving people I will probably never see again, especially the children, who have been inspirational. Living there has been very humbling, eye-opening and moving. It was a truly wonderful experience of a life-time.