NEWS-FLASH

Ok before I tell you about my day I would just like to tell you that; the earth quake in China is actually in Tibet, thousands not hundreds are dead or wounded. The Chinese government is not letting any over seas aid into Tibet. A few years back the Chinese government sent thousands of their soldiers to keep the Tibetans in check but when thousands of Tibetans are dead or wounded all they can do is LIE to the media and say only a few hundred are dead, they can only spare a few hundred soldiers for the thousands dead or wounded.

Frances

The Audience...

In Tibetan Buddhism there are four main schools much like the Catholics and protestants of Christianity but maybe with a bit more integration. Each school has its leader, much like the pope or the arch bishop of Canterbury. The Dalai Lama is the most well known. His counter part, the Karmapa is the next most well known. The Panchen lama is famous for his disappearance when he was only a very small child with his family from their home in Tibet three days after the Dalai Lama recognised him as the true reincarnation of the last Panchen lama, (the word is the Chinese disposed of them). The other leader is little heard of.

It is very hard to get a private audience with the Dalai Lama, it can take up to three years as Antionette discovered. A private audience with the Karmapa is a little better but still, it is very lucky to be allotted a five minutes appointment. How lucky were we to get that opportunity and then win his interest so that we kept him for almost half an hour!!!

The Tibetan centre down in the village near to where we lived when I grew up in Scotland was of the Karmapa's lineage. When I was about the same age as Frances and Abbey, I was granted a private audience with the previous incarnation of the Karmapa, when he visited Samyeling in 1978. My question to him at that time was 'How did the world begin?. And his answer was “There is no beginning and no ending, only the present moment.” Most frustrating at the time but I gradually came to understand it. As I remember him then, he had the same demeanour as the current Karmapa who is known for his seriousness, unlike the laughing Dalai lama.

I had a question for him this time too but it seemed Jevita's topic about kids, especially disadvantaged kids, was good for all of us. I managed to add a little of mine when she asked if an ordinary person could become enlightened... I asked if an animal could be enlightened. He took some time to consider this before he decided that it was possible. (my whole question was along the lines of whether modern religions and science have underestimated/valued the consciousness of the animal/natural realm and hence our potential downfall within only a few thousand years compared to ancient thinking which held animals/natural world in reverence and kept us going for three million years...).

The girls will tell you all about the rest. There was much fun, interest and searching. Frances and Abbey were listening carefully and later, when we all went to lunch to try and piece it all together they seemed to have caught the most of the important teachings... What better way to learn about the world than to experience it first hand in all its various lessons. I left my written question with him, we had our photo taken and we left in high spirits.

We had lunch at Norbulingka, a centre for Tibetan arts and crafts. It is set in the most beautiful gardens. In fact, as if in answer to my question, here was the stark contrast to everything that is unfortunate about people, slums, India, the world... Instead the care, the love, the reverence of the beauty of the world... 

We ate and chatted, and debriefed about what each had gleaned from what he had said. We had met Olivia from Britain who had had an audience after us and was curious as to all the laughter and length of time we had had and so accompanied us to lunch, thus we got the added bonus of her audience teaching!! We watched the wood carvers, and metal workers making the Tibetan statues and ornaments. We wandered in the gardens and it was just wonderful.

H.H.G.K

My heart pumped as we walked into H.H.G.K room. I held out my special silk cloth. The karmapa placed the cloth over my head and I walked away with my hands poised in praying position. After everyone else got the same treatment he ushered us to have a seat. He sat down and looked into Javita's eyes like “so! what is your question?!” She started with what she did in the USA, which is principle of a school where they bring loaded guns and sharp knives to school. She said how she had interviewed us and compared to the kids in her school we were enlightened! She also got us to say what our answer was to 'what is the most important thing in your life' I said "chocolate ,family ,pets ,and friends" Frances said the same except instead of pets and chocolate she said Lochy. Then Javita asked him what was his answer to that question he thought long and hard about it and then said well "chocolate, it tastes, it is your friend" and "relationships and friends" he laughed at the chocolate thing a bit late but it was funny. He looked annoyed at every question like he had so many questions in a day that he was bored of them. I watched his every move like he was a criminal. I listened like never before - until I saw one of the monks catching bugs off the window and saying prayers as he let the bug outside - then I was back on his case listening, looking, waiting, catching everything. His face was funny and goofy, his words did not sound holy and enlightened. He was a friend not a holy man who was locked in his temple because he could get shot or exploded by Chinese spies or even just Chinese people who killed many Tibetans and the ones who survive have to climb through the Himalayas to McLeod Ganj where the Indians keep them safe and dry - but lots of Chinese spies go to the teachings of the holy ones... In return to the Indians let the Tibetans stay in India. Tong-len which mean giving and receiving gives to an Indian slum as you know. 

Back to the point... he was not as much as I thought, although I liked him better the way he was, than what I thought he was. His hum was made by pursed lips and a thronging sound made deep in his throat. I spent my time smiling ,laughing ,and paying great attention to what he had to say. At the end something extraordinary happened to me. The monk who was catching bugs was ushered out the back which we thought was for chai but we were wrong. The monk carried out a hand full of chocolates (at this point I did not just think he loved chocolate, I thought the Karmapa must be a addict like me to have a huge hand full of chocolate in his back room. After he had sorted though the chocolates he pulled out one of my favourite chocolates Ferrero Rocher

and walked over to me he passed the chocolate to me and I said thank you we hopped up to have a photo and he gave Frances a snickers bar. He made me stand in front of him and then he stood up tall and said I am the tallest person here. We all laughed and had the photo taken we said bye and left.

ABBEY

RMS

The Karmapa, what to say?

When we entered the room he seemed to be thinking 'Oh great, more people!' We sat down after he put the Katag over each of our heads. Dr. Deborah 'Javita' Chance - the principle of a school for kids at risk in the USA (which means they all bring guns and knifes to school!) - was the first to talk. She told him that she was writing a book on children and enlightenment he raised his eyebrows. He is 26 years old and not allowed outside of his temple because he was a political prisoner of the Chinese, She told him that before she had come she had asked Abbey and I what was most important thing in the world to us, YES! How did you guess? Abbey said CHOCOLATE(!!!)

followed by friends, animals and last but not least family! I said my pony, Lochy, and friends and family. When Abbey told him a smile spread across his face. Javita asked him what was most important thing or things in the world for him. He looked at Javita like she was crazy or silly and said....

'CHOCOLATE'

then family and friends!

We all laughed and Javita asked more questions, like;

For children who have hard life's and are bad because of it how can they help themselves?

He looked around the room and seemed to struggle for the right word he eventually said 'motivation'.

Can the common man reach enlightenment?

No pause just 'yes'.

Have you experienced struggles in your life / how did you cope with them?

He looked confused, he did not understand the word struggle, then after we told him he nodded and said with many pauses, 'don't look at the small things look at the big picture,' then 'humans have funny minds, when you experience hardships you have to think of it as a game, not a funny game a serious game or challenge (or word to such effect).

What is your message for the youth of today?

He paused and looked around the room for awhile, we thought that he did not have a message so we didn't hear him say the answer to her question...

Is enlightenment the process or the destination?

He had a long conversation with his helper, in Tibetan, then his helper answered for him No definitely not the process. It is the destination.

By the time the last questions were being asked the language was making it hard for him, he asked his helper in Tibetan more and more. When we were leaving, before we had a photo he asked a monk something, and the monk ran out of the room. He must have liked Abbey because he made her come and stand in front of him. Javita is tall for a lady and His Holiness must have noticed because he stood on his toes and said ' I am the tallest person here'.

Cheese!

The monk came back with a handful of chocolates! H.H gave Abbey a Ferrero Rocher and me a Snicker bar.

It had to be the best chocolate in the world!

We have kept the wrappers!

We had lunch at the most beautiful garden/temple/restaurant/craft place!

Frances

Contemplation

Now two days after our meeting with the Karmarpa the energy created from our meeting still resonates around our little family and associates. Here are two (of the many!) quick impressions from me.

The Karmapa's facial expressions and body language are a sheer delight to experience. Before a word was spoken his solemness greeted my eyes. And throughout the audience his eyebrows, mouth, forehead, arms and legs, and torso all would shows degrees of wonderment, concentration, confusion, straight-forwardness, resignation and awkwardness and intensity. I am at a loss to describe the kaleidoscope of messages transmitted by his visual presence alone. India and Tibet no doubt are both lands where the human gesture is used to a high degree for communication! and just as easy as it is to totally understand or totally misinterpret body language in our own culture, so I figure we can make the same judgements in another culture. Hence, each of us during the session interpreted his actions in light of our prejudices and experiences and we had much fun in discussing our understanding of his holiness's actions during lunch.

As my little one's have described, the Karmapa's first words of wisdom concerned topic of what is most important. His answer was simple yet profound. He basically said everything is important, giving no qualification on what is most important. So chocolate featured as highly as family, as highly as friends, as highly as Lochy. Simple in the extent that it is inclusive of everything we experience, and profound in the sense that it obliges us with a responsibility to mark and consider everything with importance as we go about what we do. If Indians,Tibetans (and tourists for that matter) thought it important not to litter this wonderful country...what a difference that would make make. Simple. Profound. I have also thought more deeply on this introductory snippet of wisdom which has led my mind down many other tangential (dare I say meditative!) paths. It is fun. I recommend it to you. You may find that eating chocolate leads to enlightenment if you follow my lead!

For each of the Karmapa's words and expressions such a journey is possible. While I might be inconsistent in making the first step at times, I have since our meeting with his holiness been at times swept along in the joy and challenge of what he aptly calls the 'game'.

Behind all the trappings, mystique and ceremony of our meeting something sits with me strongly. The value and awe of contemplation. That is important.

Gerard

THE IPL at Dharamsala - Kings 11 Punjab vs Chenni Super Kings

Pre- Game

Julie had first mentioned to me about the big cricket game that coincided with our stay at McLeodganj. Her good buddy, Antoinette, a livid IPL cricket fan, would love to take me to the match. Given I had only watched first class cricket from the comfort of the lounge or pub chair, it seemed a good idea to go with the flow. So on day one in McLeodganj, I was ushered to the Tourist Commission building and purchased my 650 Rupee (A$16 approx) ticket. I was in third tier seating, whilst Antoinette had already procured 800 rupee seats for herself and friends....which had now run out; so was I to be the lone Aussie amongst the (Punjab) cricket mecca minions? Time would tell.

A few days before the game, I was strolling towards the town centre and observed many police and security officers outside one of the more classy hotels. Amongst the arsenal at their immediate disposal were hand guns, shotguns, various machine guns, riot sticks and the like. Some were posted in high positions. In the instant I thought, “turn back, go the other way”, my legs assumed a position of gay abandon and led me straight by the serious looking faces; I acted as if heedless to their scrutiny and strolled past, admonishing my legs with a bit of a trip, but felt very uncomfortable. I subtly picked up my pace and continued on my internet cafe sojourn. Out of 'danger', I then started running into welling crowds of Indians and Tibetans. The roads were hectic and congested (yes, even more so then normal) with traffic police providing guidance to the melee, and it dawned on me that a IPL cricket team was booked into the hotel, with their arrival imminent. I watched as the convoy drove past in the suddenly cleared roads. I did my browsing quickly (gee, don't any of you know my email address?) and returned home, via the security 'cordon', this time without the same level of trepidation, knowing that international cricketers in India are a most unlikely target!

The day before the game, some cricketers were to meet His Holiness, The Dalai Lama at the Temple at the bottom of our drive. We decided to intercept them, along with the welling throng from the few night's previous. We waited and waited for them to emerge, and I approached two heavily armed police/security officers for a photo. (One thing that came to mind was the saying along the lines that fools dwell where wise men fear to tread).

Anyway, they obliged, and we had a natter about Australia. Then the cricketers started emerging, spasmodically, in ones and twos. The gathered parted like the red sea, under the persuasions of the security officials and occasional waving of automatic arms. The parted then rejoined after the hallowed had passed them, awaiting the next anointed ones. In one preparative parting of the red sea, I had a sudden thought...why not leap into the exposed depths, interrupt this mini drama and walk down the passage as if a famous cricketer, and get Abbey to take a picture of me...what would the result be?

No sooner thought than realised, and with a bit of flare I leapt into the breach, emboldening the parted to cheer me on, (which they did with unfettered gusto and mirth)...for here was one who had earnt and needed no protection, was ardent and responsive to their combined conflagration of implored delight, and besides, was a crazy dude having a bit of fun at everyone's, and especially his own, expense.

The Game

The morning of the game was greeted with cloudy weather and periods of rain. Dharamsala Cricket Stadium had already earned a reputation for rain on game day, and many were wondering if the game would be cancelled. But while remaining overcast, the weather played no further part in the ministrations of the event. The Dalai Lama was to grace the game with his presence, and to present the teams with katags (a silken type 'scarf” , offered to the Holy One for his blessing). But to witness this, first I had to get in. We left (Antoinette and I) around midday, to arrive at the ground by around 1.00pm, for a 4.00pm start. As we had different seating, we had to enter through different gates. We organised a place to meet after the game, and proceeded to our allotted entrances. The queue to entrance 7 was already well formed when I arrived, and I stood in line till about 2pm before any movement towards the stadium. In that time, Police organised motorcycle parking and were very strict with queue jumpers; the previous game at Dharamsala has resulted in riots due to over allocation of tickets, and they wanted no repeat performance. Also, (as I discovered later), the previous evenings IPL game had several low density bombs detonate,injuring a dozen or so spectators and resulting in a two hour delay), security was intense.. I was searched twice, and was not about to try any funny stunts with these guys, you could tell their level of intensity. I was politely jostled in the line by my fellow devotees, to ensure I kept pace, as is the Indian tradition. After a final frisk, ticket produced, scrutinised (for about the fourth time) and accepted, I entered the stadium and was treated to a most delightful spectacle! A stunning ground, palmed at one side by the snow covered mountains of the Himalayas, strategically set atop a knoll that amplified its inherent iconic status, a landmark and testament to the advancement of the state, and hemmed otherwise by the foothills and plains of the surrounding countryside. Many had praised the ground before, and now seeing the stadium at close quarters for the first time, surrounded, daunted and uplifted by the majesty of its natural setting, I too was left me momently awed. I assumed a seat, and awaited His Holiness. As it turned out, their were many tourists at the match, and in my section of the Stadium (well, at least 20 or so among the 25,000!).

Having watched a few previous IPL matches with Antoinette on paytv, it was great to see all the pre-game preparations and warm-ups that do not feature in the square eye view of the world. One thing I noticed about the players...many fielded better in the warm up then they did in the game! (that's about all I had in common with their skill set!).

Immediately prior to the game, the crowd was treated to a display of Tibetian culture, and thence the fervour generated when His Holiness, the Dalai Lama entered the arena. The cricketers received their blessing, and it was really a moment in history unfolding in front of me, something I will hold long in my memories....nothing to do with the cricket, but as the blessings continued, my thoughts turned towards the slum school camp, itself located in the shadows of the Stadium. I wondered about the Dalai Lama's active support of both forms of humanity so alive within his immediate precinct, and the greater panhuman practice (and relevance?) of fairness and equity in the world. Then, like so many others whose attention is briefly drawn to such musings, I reflectively dismissed the seeming irony of such divergent realities, and knowing full-well that one could not exist without the other in the precise moment observed, I focused on the Stadium's Master of Ceremonies; he turned up the atmospheric music, the teams rallied to their encampments, and it was game on, with the Kings 11 Punjab to bat first. So easily the mind diverted; yet is it so meaningless the postulations of a humanity that reasons the greater good of the 'all' to assuage the plight of the 'one'?

The Kings 11 amassed 192, with Aussie Shaun Marsh a standout. In reply, Super Kings scored 195, to win by five wickets; Matthew Hayden failed with the bat, but Dhoni, the Indian captain, thumped sixes and fours in the last two overs to practically cement them a place in the IPL semi-finals.

The only discord with the panache of the night (apart from my brief introspection) were the four trio sets of Pom Pom cheerleaders, doing somewhat lethargic and poorly choreographed dance routines every time a four or six was scored, or when there was a pause in the cricket. They did not fit in at all for me. The Indian crowd greatly appreciated the generated hype, and shaky booty, but for me, bring on the Bollywood dancers for the next IPL series. Their intensity and movement would be more in tune with the occasion, and certainly add a little more spice to the proceedings!

Post script (for Julie's eyes only):

Pretti Zinta the Bollywood star, also adorned the ground with her presence. Each IPL team seems to be owned by a Bollywood starlet. As she pranced around the ground at change of innings, she caught my eye, leapt over the security fence and whisked me away......

Gerard.

After all the security to get Pretti and her Punjab captain to the car Moo dropped by to hold up proceedings, much to everyones delight.

Today we visited the Tong-leg hostel. First we went to the girls hostel, they had the cutest little puppies and after weeks and weeks of not being allowed to touch dog or cats, Dad finally let us!!! We met the girls at the hostel first and they did the best dancing ever, just like all the movies!!! They got Abbey and I to dance with them. Dad tried to copy them and sent them into fits of laughter. We were shown around the hostel by some eager girls. It was just like a house but with BIG bedrooms! After some boys took us to the boys hostel and showed us around. Dad got some of their lesson books and asked them questions from them. We went up to the roof and they showed us the school they go to that was near by and when we were up there it started to rain!!!

The kids at the hostel were cool calm and collected compared with the ones at them slum, you could tell that they liked to learn and were interested in the world around them. The boy who showed us around passionately told us about how it was important for the hostel kids to teach the people at the camp things like not having too many kids! They love living at the hostel, they love their families coming to visit but they don't want to go back.

Busy busy busy!

So waterplay was really a lead into washing the kids the next day - for their scabies treatment. Only no one prepared me. A very little child so very frightened had been rounded up and her mother was dousing her with cold water. The child began screaming hysterically so a young man took over. They wouldnt let me help. I wasnt sure if there was some kind of cultural taboo so I backed off. I busied myself washing another child next to him while he proceeded to pour water straight into and over the little ones face and hair, making sure it was thoroughly soaked. With no let up he grabbed a bar of soap lathering it up in her hair and over her face and eyes and ears, making sure she was thoroughly soaped. Then on with the buckets of water, over and over as he rinsed her off. Her screams were curdling. All I could think of was the American soldiers water boarding those prisoners. As he threw the last bucket I wrapped her in a towel and whisked her away. She buried her poor little face into my neck, both of us sobbing, much to the amazement of the spectators. I have always been a bit emotional around crying babies but this was truly horrible. No wonder they don't like being clean!

After that I insisted on washing all the petrified little ones. “amar, amar” (gently, gently). Some of the frightened bigger ones tapped me on the arm “madam, you wash me please”. 

Still literally washed out from that, we went to catch the bus home and were approached by a beggar. Most of the beggars know we work at Charan community and just smile and say namaste. But this guy was pushy "I am hungry" he kept saying. We gave him all our fruit, but he wanted money. Its not good to give them money they get drunk and the wife cops it. I tried all sorts of reasoning, suggestions. But he was persistent and bolshy. Eventually he said that if we gave him Frances we could pay him a dowry too, plenty of money. At this point my softly softly evaporated and became rather tall. if I had had a carrot stick he may have had a rapping around his knee caps!! I told him that in our culture that was the height of rudeness, I thought Frances might just punch him out! Just then one of the men from the Charan slum came to our rescue, slipped between us gestured to us to head off while he spoke to the man.

When we got home we had to take a shower at Antionette's. The big IPL cricket games are on and there are 25 000 extra people in town. The hotels are taking all the water, as well as the cricket ground. The only reason Charan still has water is that they are right in the shadow of the enormous state of the art cricket ground... ironic really while some starve others play cricket. Anyway that's where Gerard is today. He and Antoinette are watching the big game. The Dalai Lama is opening the game! So if Gerard had any concerns about terrorists before he came he has walked right into the lions mouth or is it the den?

The HH has so much security because of the Chinese and of course the cricket is another big target here... and of course there is also the earth quake in Tibet and this region is apparently a bit unstable at the moment. Still he's coping, more worried about me getting lice and scabies I think! Hopefully there will be water tomorrow. We have had only two buckets a day for the last week!! Getting a bit whiffy!! Gerard will tell you all about it as well as his moment of glory while we waited for the cricketers to come out of the temple after there blessing from HH.

We also went to the Tong-len Hostel today to see the lucky Charan kids who have sponsors. That was lovely. We will write more, but just suffice to say if any of you are feeling generous then do consider sponsoring a child. They are soooo fortunate to leave all that behind, and grateful.

1. 
   

Today we visited the Tong-len hostel. First we went to the girls hostel, they had the cutest little puppies and after weeks and weeks of not being allowed to touch dog or cats, Dad finally let us!!! We met the girls at the hostel first and they did the best dancing ever, just like all the movies!!! They got Abbey and I to dance with them. Dad tried to copy them and sent them into fits of laughter.

We were shown around the hostel by some eager girls. It was just like a house but with BIG bedrooms! After some boys took us to the boys hostel and showed us around. Dad got some of their lesson books and asked them questions from them. We went up to the roof and they showed us the school they go to that was near by and when we were up there it started to rain!!!

The kids at the hostel were cool calm and collected compared with the ones at them slum, you could tell that they liked to learn and were interested in the world around them. The boy who showed us around passionately told us about how it was important for the hostel kids to teach the people at the camp things like not having too many kids! They love living at the hostel, they love their families coming to visit but they don't want to go back.

 Jamyang, the Tong-len director

1.  

Well what a day!

While we walked down to Tong-Len. Mum talked to Dad about water play with the younger children... We bought tubs, jugs and funnels for the kids to play with, and we started to set up when we got there and a small crowd gathered to watch. As soon as we were ready I went and got some younger kids with one of Bhicky's (who I thought was Vicky) friends.

Ok, here is how it started. There were two squeeze bottles and Mum sprayed one at me. Yep, thats right, I sprayed the other back and pretty soon it was a full scale water war. It was fine for the boys and younger girls because they could take their tops off, but me... so I was soaking wet. Dripping in full clothing, the older boys (I say older because I found out that they are like 12 and 13!) found it really cool to hear me scream! I was their main target; jug upon jug of water was poured on my head and I retaliated by doing the same. Maybe thats why they were going four me all the other 'older' girls just screamed and ran off but I didn't. Every one was against me and the older girls, which sucked!!!!

After school, we got on a bus and headed for the Karmapar's temple in Dharamsala. We hopped off the crowded bus and made our way to the temple shop were we bought a white silken offering scarf and key ring holders (we will update you with the correct names for these items next blog). We attended the temple and met Antionette and her new friend, Jeerita. After receiving our blessing from the Karmarpa, along with a few hundred others, we organised to have a private audience with him next week...how incredibly exciting (and our new friend Jeerita too).

Abbey has felt sick for the past few days and I got sick this morning!!! What luck! Little did we know that His Holiness The Dalai Lama was returning to Mcloed Ganj... this morning at 10.30!!!

Mum phoned us (on our sick beds) to tell us that he was coming. I got up and put some warm jumpers and pants on, Abbey put on her bright pink Salwai Kameez or Salma Mcgeez 

as she likes to call it, and we made our way down to the temple where we phoned Antoinette and asked where she was. She was still at home. So Abbey and I had a shake at Coffee Talk and then started to walk down to the Kora, or Circumambulation (the path around the Dalai Lamas home and Temple). We met Antoinette there and waited for HH The Dalia Lama to drive past. 

We waited for half an hour before I saw the first car then Bang! HH The Dalia Lama was waving and driving past us. Everyone bowed and held incense. Abbey said she could only see glasses - the windows were tinted - but Antoinette said that he probably saw her (she was the only one wearing BRIGHT pink and yellow!). We walked up and had some waffles and icecream and then went home to rest...

Frances

We have rested. I write a letter. Frances and I put on Dhoom2 to listen to a song, then another. It hurts to swallow but I can cope. I havent got much to write. This cold leaves me with no energy.

RMS

ABBEY!!!

With both girls sick and the teacher away it was up to Gerard and I to help Veeru. We have been working away at suggestions from you guys, modifying them to suit such a small space and such little understanding in terms of language but also in terms of cooperation and caring. The book we had to read in high school “The Lord Of The Flies” comes to mind. This, however, is several generations of children that have grown up (largely) without adult supervision. They are just children so they are capable of beautiful smiles and much happiness but these kids are capable of much brutality too. When they want something they grab, shove, punch, hair pull and generally it is the largest that gets it, or the more cunning or covert. When someone is crying mostly no one notices, sometimes the siblings will attend them especially if Nandini or one of the older girls helping waves a stick or raps them with it. Sometimes the tiny ones will fall asleep on the floor and then one of the children will pick them up and hold them but I have seen them just continue on around and over and on top of them, oblivious to their little fingers, hands, arms heads as they step on them.

So it was with great trepidation I took along an enormous ball of playdough, some rulers for cutting it and some lids for cutting out shapes. (The day before I had met another Australian volunteer who has had a long time association with Tong-len, who smiled with great scepticism at my idea.) I very strongly suggested to Veeru that I would only be able to manage ten at a time (two small round tables with five at each). Immediately that became fifteen but I was managing no problems.

Veeru found me some cups and roller type things as well as some shapes that had hollow backs that were great for cutting out circles, triangles etc. I spent maybe fifteen minutes showing them how to make faces, snakes, etc and they made lots of chapatis. Then little by little the word got around that we were doing something GREAT fun and one by one they filtered into our tent. Each time I had to implore them to give a 'little, little' piece from each to the new person (particularly those who were hoarding it on their lap under the table!). Each time they gave I said thankyou thankyou and so soon they were happily fighting over who was giving to the new comer!

Then Veeru came by to see how it was going and put out another two tables (I could see he would happily have stayed to play too)! He wrote a couple of phrases that I could say to them. The first meaning no fighting, the second meaning share. I said them so many times I cant believe I cant remember them!

Gradually the tables filled, the first lot not tiring, and more and more arriving. Veeru popped by to entreat me to allow them all to join in. I said no - each child was down to only a cup cake size piece each and I was whirling from table to table sorting disputes about rolling implements and cutters.

It was on the whole a great success. They learnt that I was there to stick up for them. I made sure they each got a turn with the preferred instruments and had a reasonable piece of dough each. They learnt that it wasn't ok for the big ones to take away from the little ones or to have the biggest pieces. They actually a sense of fairness happening. They didn't eat any and they gave it all back after!!!! Then best of all while they all sat in their lines waiting for their food three boys called out to me “madam, madam, meru, meru (or similar)” I tried to get it but couldn't so I shrugged and said I can only speak English, but they insisted “Madam, madam, meru, meru” Eventually Veeru came by and I asked him to interpret for me and with a big smile he turned 'madam, that was the best...' I showed them how to do and Aussie thumbs up and we bade goodbye. “Cal meling gai” (see you tomorrow).

To the hairdresser

So we went to the hair dresser with Nan's friend, Ami and her adopted Tibetan daughter, Psumpa and their friend Tika.. first we met them at the Japanese restaurant and had veg curry for lunch. Then we got a taxi to the road above Dharamccot, where Ria's (the hairdresser) two little Indian girls, led us to their house It was so beautiful and the garden was so awesomely pretty.

Psumpa got the first hair cut. She had a sort of trim sort of cut. I was next and I had a trim. Frances had a cut but she will tell you what it was HA HA HA HA!!!. Any way while Frances had her hair cut Psumpa and I played. We tried to catch little blue butterflies. Once there was this huge black butterfly with a red body but we could not catch it =-(. After Ami and Tika had a hair cut Ami phoned her friend who told her that the birth day party she was going to, that was supposed to be next to our house had ran out of water so they had moved it... next to the hair dresser's house!. We had the hair dressers home made bread,jam,and chai, then invited our selves to the party. She was delighted to see us with Ami and Psumpa.. Psumpa introduced us to her friend from school who had an awesome phone that could take photos of us with a moustache,a big nose,glasses,and bushy eye brows on. It also was a touch phone with a stick like a Nintendo. We played around and then had some yummy cake but we had to go before dark because we were walking back. We said goodbye and went to meet Dad for dinner at Moonpeak Thali

I got my hair cut yesterday by Ria... I wish that I had been more specific because the layers of my hair are too short to put in a plait or a low pony tail I have to put it in a very high pony tail just to keep it up!!! Also my hair is kinda curly/fizzy!!! Apart from that the rest of the hair cut was nice.

The party.... Psumpa introduced us to some of her school friends; we left after cake and walked all the way along the bumpy road, through the monkey forest back to Mcloed Ganj. We saw some monkeys sitting on the branches of a pine tree. They were a bit to close for comfort!!! If a monkey threatens to attack you, you're supposed to throw a rock at it but if that fails you need a man to drop his dacks, as Antoinette told Mum and Abbey, apparently size matters in the monkey world...

We met Dad at Moonpeak Thali (Abbey did not want to go there) and ate dinner then went home and ZZZZZZ!!!!
Frances xoxo

Tong-len

Help Urgently Needed!!!

We need your ideas Please!!! http://www.tong-len.org/

Ok so I have always thought teachers must be just a little more than totally crazy but now I find myself volunteering in a slum tent school and I begin to wonder what that makes me... and even if I am not now fit for a looney bin, I will be very soon!!

Yesterday was the day the doctors visit the camp. This means they use one of the two available tents so that all the children are taught in the other tent. That means that 92 children ranging in age from 18 months to 10/12 years all squeeze into a space around 4metres by 4metres with one qualified teacher Nandini and the excellent, patient classroom leader,Veeru, a former shoe shiner (who lives in the camp also), plus two of the camps young 16 year old girls (married and pregnant) as helpers, plus us.

They learn mainly by rote, sitting in lines on the strips of carpet that cover the concrete, repeating nursery rhymes, poems prayers and jingles. They do this in English, Hindi and one of the many other Indian languages. Surprisingly they keep coming even when they have to go through long waits till it is their turn to say their little piece. This is mainly the way teaching is done in India. There is nothing to keep them at school. The parents would prefer if they came begging with them but they dont mind if they just hang out. There is no encouragement to get an education and yet it is obvious that in order to break the cycle the children need to be exposed to another world.

At the moment their knowledge is so small that they can not even start at the government schools, but it is the goal to make the learning more exciting and to keep bringing them up to that level so that they are motivated to and could attend school if they wish. Then the very lucky who get a sponsor are chosen out of the children (one from each family) that are capable and they go to live at the hostel where they can keep clean, eat well, and are given encouragement with their studies. These children come back to camp occasionally bringing their learning and the families slowly, slowly begin to see the benefits of the children's education.

Meanwhile it is our task to give Veeru and Nandini ideas for activities that make school fun and educational at the same time! Today we did some of the games we played at Abbey's birthday party and also a dice addition game I remember from watching Annette at Peregrine once. But we need ideas. Two hours of ideas each day!!!! We are off to do some googling but would be most appreciative of any ideas from any of you...

They begin the morning with the beauty parlour...washing and hair brushing at 10.ooam. Then they are educated and entertained until 1.00pm when they are given a nourishing hot meal. We havent been to an afternoon session yet but apparently the children are more knowledgeable and easier to manage. Veeru seems to want our help particularly in the morning. We hope to take a look at both the afternoon session and the hostel but so far we are exhausted by lunch time and glad to head back to Mclo.

The scattered tents of the slum were spread over around five acres next to a dry waterless water course. Walking through the maze of precarious bamboo and tarpaulin tents, one thinks to one's self, of only they could...

Small babies sat in the buckets of water while there mothers washed them. Then the tent schools, the primary was just like any other primary school but not... the kids sat on the ground with their dirty cloths and lice infested hair... 

 

The nursery was a hurricane of tears, yells and wide eyes. At first all the little kids were to shy to do anything but stare, then after watching the older boys they began to gain confidence. First it was only one then bang everyone wanted to be playing hand clapping! The boys asked me my name over and over, each time the pronunciation got better before we left it was 'Pantces'. Vicky (one of the boys) tried to trick me into thinking that Vicky was not his name, but I could tell he was trying to trick me because a huge cheeky grin stretched from one ear to the other. One dude was called Gandi but I can't be sure because Vicky had already tried to trick me...

From the top Vicky, 'Gandhi' and a boy who's name I can't remember!

We just watched for that day and looked at how the class was run, I must say the 'teacher' Veeru handled those little scally wags very well I am not sure that some qualified Australian childcare teachers could do what he does...

The Next Two Days.

Well, what to say? The second day we realised how unprepared for teaching we were... We played Simon says with the older kids. Vicky was just the same as the day before the biggest grin and loudest laugh, he played hand clapping with me again, and one of his friends tried to tell me a boy was his son, at the end of the day I agreed with him and pointed at Vicky and said 'and this is your lovely wife' at that point he looked shocked then him and Vicky proceeded to have a rather nasty play fight...

Today I had to teach the youngest group and three of the boys would not listen to me so I had to swap groups with Dad! Dad's group soon got bored with that card game (Jess girl as I call her to myself was the ringleader of that one). I got four of them to write the Alphabet out on the board in lower case and upper case, next we played duck duck goose and then heads shoulders knees and toes. Another game we played required the children to name the correct object from a choice of two, and dad tried to make it harder by holding the pictures upside down. But they were onto him alright and said the correct answer all the time! Then I stood up the front and asked them what everything was, they answered, and we spelt it out, then I would make the noise to go with the object, I got people to come up and do the action or noise to go with the object. Then I got every one to go round the tent doing the action or noise.

Lunch came not a moment to soon, I helped had out plates and had a mini competition with a boy,who remind s me of a boy at Woodbridge called Jordan, he handed out the plates faster than me so I lost! I was getting them drinks when Vicky beckoned to me pointing at his spoon I said 'You want me to wash it' he nodded I came to get it and saw that huge grin trying to hid behind a hand. He laughed. I walked off and looked back he pointed to his spoon I shook my fist at him which caused his friends and him to crack up. After lunch Vicky and his friends (The reason I only name Vicky is because he has the most western sounding name and I can't remember the rest) hung round playing hand clapping, thumb wars and hand wrestling I lost the last two games because my hands were tired from clapping.

It seemed to be a competition who could hit my hands the hardest. Vicky and a mute girl made my eyes water and when I looked at my hands they were RED. 'Jordan boy' and Vicky would make each other stuff up so that they could clap hands with me. Some of the girls tried to make me and Abbey dance but when we tried to dance the mute girl shook her head and did some really cool bollywood dancing. Abbey sang to them but I was to shy why I was shy beats me because I had just been imitating all sorts of strange animals in the class room...

We wake up and lets skip the boring part ok, wake go and meet Tashi Nans friend and we go to see the slum camp. There's this boy that says hello( with awesome jeans on) he must be... my age maybe (you can never tell with Indian kids because they are so small). First we look at the primary “sort of” quiet tent school, then we look at the loud crying nursery. Every one likes us and asks us stuff and the little children are so cute and they all want to hold my hands.

The second day we go down we walk along the short cut to Dharamsala (it takes an hour). Me and Frances spend the time talking about GUGS, T shirts ,and horse shows while mum power walks down worrying about what to do with Tong-Len. We arrive and say hello to many children then we start to help with the slum tent school. After two hours of cry listen and choop ( that means quiet ). we have lunch and say good bye after chasing two girls around trying to tickle them. Oh I forgot Arti she is one of the helpers that I helped read she is very nice and kind. The third day. Ok we have some cards and a letter for some games. When we arrive we say hello and sit down to help. Today Frances is taking the younger kids of the older kid and Dad is taking the older ones to do maths and spelling. Me and mum are still with the little kids tent. We played the card game and then the 'send a letter to my friend' game we played mirror and Simon say and Arti gave me seven bangles and two anklets I thanked her. At lunch I learned Arti was married and pregnant. At play I asked her about the baby. All the kid made me sing and dance it was funny. We did thumb wars, clapping games and arm wrestles with the boys. It was so funny once one of the boys was pushing so hard in a arm wrestle he farted we all cracked up. We again said good bye and got the jeep home. The jeep drivers like to fit 15 people in their jeeps!!!

RMS

100,000,000 steps to heaven

On Friday we went trekking to the saddle, you know the one in the foot hills of the Himalayas!  Any way it was so high and beautiful. (To find out more clink on the link  http://www.mcllo.com/Triund.Dhauladhars.Himalayas.Mcleodganj%20%5BMcllo.com%5D.html.) On the way there were these gorgeous trees with flowers that were so perfect and pink and pretty! They were called Rhododendrons. It took so long and I was really tired. The only thing that kept me was biscuits, noodles and soft drinks. There were three chai shops along the way. When we got there it was stunning. I was so tired I did not wont to go back down but we had to go after a while. Down, down, down, down, down.. We stopped at the second chai shop. We sat down and rested, Then we hopped up and were off. On the way Dad and Antoinette took a wrong turn (I thought it was the other way) we ended up going a completely different track but finally after speaking to an old pony and goat herder we found the road to Dharamcot (near McLoed). When we got home Frances, who had been sick at home in bed, bathed our feet in hot water and then I fell asleep.

RMS

McLeodganj

Mcloed Ganj,

Steep roads winding their way through tall buildings. Crowed shops selling many assortments of Tibetan sculptures and jewellery. Every morning at around seven, I wake to the clickerty clack of pack ponies, mules and donkeys, with their little bells tinkling as they jog up the steep lanes to building sites. The concrete and bricks they carry, will make the older pack ponies, mules and donkeys legs bend inwards.

This morning instead of the ponies we all were awoken to the sound of a conch shell, a Tibetan funeral procession. Antoinette's friend has passed away. The horn kept on blowing as the men carried Yangke's body away. Behind the men carrying Yangke's body bound in white cloth, all the monks and friends and relatives. At the end of the possession came a small monk (I think could have been a Nun!) His/her maroon robes stood out in my mind.

Our porch looks out over the mountainous landscapes. Just outside our gate and a few metres down is a small shop, where we buy toilet paper and water. The shop owner's son rides on a little toddler's bike with no seat. He rides just past our balcony and does a half circle burn out (or high speed hind quarter yield!), then he rides back past his Dad's shop and does another burn out and then rides back again... over and over! He is riding his bike now, I can hear its flat tyre.

At the end of our road is the main street. Cows, people, jeeps, taxis, donkeys and bikes crowd the small road. There must be four or five internet cafes on that one street alone. That's kind of cool because it means we get free internet if we buy a shake or a tea. Lunch is later than in Australia, at one or two. Dinner is at eight or nine depending on whether you're on a train!

Just down the hill from Mcloed is Dharaamsala. There are two main streets, one has the road full of honking taxis and the other is having road works. Sitting in all her glamour is a poor lady down a hole. She is covered in grey dust from the concrete. She yells something in Hindi to a boy working further up and looks at me. Expressionless. She does not smile back when I smile at her, she must be too tired. Turning a corner from the street with road work we come to a street full of shops selling cloth for Salwai Kemeez. As we walk along the road I can smell the sewerage. Not a very nice thing to smell when your trying to look at patterns and the colours of Salwai Kemeez to be...

Frances

Pickpockets in India!

We boarded the Rajdhani Express at Madgaon, Goa, bound for Delhi. Previous blogs captured some of this, but not the following:

We picked up our bags from the cloak room at Old Delhi station, and headed towards platform 1A, where we were due to catch the Jammus mail for Pathankot, and thence McLeodGanj. In the maelstrom of people, platforms, announcements, goods, officials, vendors, signs, and (so it seemed) general mayhem Camille and Frances forged ahead with their full load of backpacks and sundry; Abbey and I fell behind, with me trailing directly behind her, assisting with her backpack. A younger fellow pushed against Abbey, and as it was shoulder to shoulder in the throng, I let it go by, but was a little alerted to my previous warnings (and station signs) mentioning pickpockets and the like. But then he was unnecessarily pushing into her. I prodded Abbey ahead, and shouldered past the lad. Undeterred, he then walked in front of Abbey and slowed his pace, forcing Abbey, then myself, to slow down. My focus concentrated on this lad (in hindsight, the tactic) and once again, I shoved ahead. Then from the corner of my eye, observed the lad's partners in crime approaching my backpacks and guilded, unprotected pockets (apart from their depth...). So once again, with more urgency, I shoved Abbey and her procrastinator ahead, found some clear air and shook the would be thieves off, offering to them one and all one of my infamous nasty looks, and a cry and steely determination to catch up with Camille and Frances. We caught up, told our little tale, with Frances reporting that she had seen these fellows checking us out near the cloak room; no doubt targetting us due to the amount of guff we were carrying, and the formation of our little intrepid group, and the hurly burly of a busy time at the station. So we survived our first (beknownst to us) pickpocket attempt!

Gerard

What does it all mean?

If 2012, Climate Change, Peak Oil or any of the other forecast disasters were to bring about 'the end of the world' it would only be the world as we know it, 'we' being the fortunate developed nations. For certainly those who live the world of poverty know intimately that life will cling to any opportunity to exist.

As we begin the second leg of our journey we have a moment to reflect on our tiny snippet of experience and relate our opinions - which are bound to be sweeping statements, but never-the-less forming as we negotiate our way through a new culture and landscape.

For myself I am caught by the contradictions that regularly present themselves here - 
On one hand it is liberating to be removed from the constant focus on danger/safety, litigation/obligation; to surrender to fate/chance as you let your driver negotiate the wild honking of horns while the vehicles weave two, three or even four abreast along narrow roads toward equally random oncoming traffic; to ride helmetless on motor cycles, beltless in cars, in the boot of overcrowded taxi vans or stand packed-in on over crowded buses where broken seats, loose glass in rattling windows and groaning engines suggest less than road worthiness (not to mention the bus driver putting his shirt on as he drives no hands!!); to explore the ruins of ancient churches without guard rails around onetime wells or pits; to walk the busy streets taking your own care not to walk under the precarious bamboo scaffolding webbed around multi-storey construction sites;

to cross these streets amidst the frenetic crush of people, cars, rickshaws, motorcycles, trucks, buses, dogs and the occasional cow; to wander freely along the pathways that wind around the communities without fear of trespass... it is indeed a pleasant release.

On the other hand there is the reality that the deaths and injuries caused by a lack of imposed standards must create incredible hardship in a country that, already suffering, cannot afford the type of care required to recover from such; that the people cannot choose not to work under these conditions because the need for money to survive is so desperate; that the acceptance of this chaos allows for an acceptance of the injustices, the suffering; the loss of care allows for the filth and degradation - the legless beggar to be seen as lazy or onto a good money earner. How in a world where people live on, and scrape a living from, rubbish dumps can we get upset for cows that roam the streets feeding on cardboard boxes and choking on plastic bags or stray dogs that die from rotting wounds.

There is a strange contradiction to the dazzling painted delivery trucks, the immaculately turned out women, the flowers hanging in the front of the buses, the intricate stone designs,

to the waterways, road sides, backyards, choked with garbage, the tarpaulin/plastic tent homes. The potential of the country to be a magnificent beauty, to rival the most exclusive tourist destinations and yet the sheer impossibility of cleaning up an ocean of trash that threatens to drown it.

Meanwhile life is incessant. The baby banyons cling to the sides of old buildings reducing them to ruins. The jungle sheds its leaves to blanket the filth. The lady in the brilliant yellow sari lifts her tray of crushed gravel to balance on her head as she and a line of equally poised women trundle back and forth, part of the road gang building a new bridge. The cows queue at the rubbish skips outside shops.

The legless beggar dons his thongs - on his hands - and makes his way over the piled dirt from half built drains, through the crush of passing legs of people and cows, looking instead into the eyes (or backsides) of stray dogs, but smiling up “namesdae”.

Perhaps life is the contradiction between beauty and decay, the newborn and the carcass. Perhaps life just is and the rest is all a judgement - regardless, it continues relentlessly.

Travelling To McleodGanj

1.  

We left Goa early on Saturday morning dragging an exhausted Neptune out of bed (he's been playing host, packing Gypsy's stuff for her departure and preparation for monsoon and trying to keep up with his own things). We said our goodbyes to them both before we wound our way along the Anjuna paths out to the Curlies sign where Sebash, their preferred taxi driver, was waiting to take us to Madgaon. It was a couple of hours journey and we arrived in plenty of time to negotiate the ins and outs of catching trains in India without the 'freshmen' look. We boarded without incident and without being ripped off!! We found our seats (two at either end of the carriage) and quickly negotiated with fellow travellers and the train superintendent to swap and change until we had a compartment to ourselves. This compartment unfortunately had no power point and we quickly ran out of computer power which is why we are still behind in our catching you all up to date, but we made it our home for the day - only a 26 hour trip - and enjoyed the journey. It really is an engaging way to travel, snatching a snapshot of peoples lives as we hurtle through their back yards. I am captured by the question of why some people live poverty in one way and why others live it another. From the quaint little woven hut 

and the ornate cowpat stacks to the plastic tent hovels. Some families just slept out in the dry plains with no cover. One tarpaulin slumburb caught my eye with its apparent chaos regulated by rows of satelite dishes ensuring they all had TV to watch!

Once we arrived in Delhi we had to get from Nizamuddin railway station to Old Delhi station. Despite Gerard's total lack of faith in the man who was trying to organise us into our taxi and despite the fact Gerard checked and double checked all the information he tried to tell us we took the ride and ended up at New Delhi station... to be fair to the guy I don't think Gerard in his suspicion showed him our ticket and we certainly couldnt read the difference between the old and new stations but anyhow it was only another twenty minutes in another taxi to get there.

Once there we met up with Nina (whom I havent seen for some thirty odd years) and her friend Judy. We left our bags in the cloak room and went off for lunch. How fortunate we have been on this trip that where ever we go we have an amazing guide.

Nina got us around Delhi in and out of taxis, rickshaws, very snazzy modern subway trains to lunch and then back to her hotel in the Tibetan quarters for a shower and relax. It was great to see Nina after all these years. I used to be good friends with her daughter Joanne (Hi Joanne!!) way back in primary school in Scotland. Once we get to UK we will see Joanne and Nina and maybe even Judy again.

We easily managed the return journey to the station by ourselves, the late night bustle of the train station and the near pick pocketing. We boarded the train to Pathankot, negotiated with fellow passengers until we were all in the same compartment again and then, because we were disembarking early, we went to sleep without unpacking.

Mom's taxi driver picked us up and we began the ascent to the top of the world, leaving the dry plains of India far behind. It is a steep winding climb, green and beautiful with vastly different vegetation from Goa, almost looking like Tasmania. The roads were wider and there seemed to be less rubbish. It took a couple of hours to reach Mcleodganj. Sabu took us as far as a car can drive then grabbed our bags and sprinted up the narrow winding paths to Mom's rooms. Lovely rooms with a beautiful view of Dharamsala, so far below its hard to believe that that is itself high above the rest of India! It was Monday lunchtime and Antionette was arriving to give us our tour of Mcleod.