Bhotenamlang

The going is slow up the mountain. We started trekking in the late afternoon and the sun was beating down on us mercilessly. We had to stop frequently for rest and water in the shade. We make our way up the mountain with a group of villagers most of whom are carrying heavy loads of rice, building supplies or farm equipment on their backs. It’s about 4-5 hours trekking to Bhotenamlang, our destination. We could probably do it in less time, but we have to stop frequently to visit with other villagers, have a smoke, drink some water, drink some roxy, eat biscuits…By the time we arrive in Radha’s home it is already 8pm. We finish walking in the dark being extra careful where we step because we are walking through rubble.

After walking for hours and passing hundreds of houses, we still haven’t seen a single house that is intact. News reports aren't kidding when they say that 90% of villages in Sindupalchowk have been destroyed. In fact here it is probably closer to 99 percent, even when you look across the valley to villages on the other side, you see only broken ruins. Yet, all around us the views are stunning and magnificent. At one rest stop, I pause to admire the view of the Himalayas in the distance. How can a place that creates and inspires so much beauty also be the source of so much destruction and pain?

Nepalis are resilient people, though; you can see it in the lines of their faces which have been hardened by a lifetime of hard work. The people here are mostly subsistence farmers. By the World Bank and United Nations standards, they would qualify as “living below the poverty line” without any regular income. Issues of health, education and nutrition most likely existed in these villages long before the earthquake. And the aid that has only recently come flooding into the area in the wake of the earthquake (which still hasn’t reached certain places) has served to highlight some of the larger development problems of the region.  The needs of village people here cannot be met by short term emergency relief, what is needed is a longer term commitment to improving health, education and quality of life in the region.

We were lucky to get a bus going as far as Tipeni where a local group has set up their base for distribution of food and supplies. There are also two medical teams stationed there with enough medical supplies to last for months including an RV with a generator which can be used as an operating room/ambulance. However, the medical teams are leaving tomorrow and the food distribution won’t last forever either. What happens after the sense of emergency fades and the desire to help burns out? Moonsoon is just around the corner and without proper shelter and a dry place to store food, the village people are going to fall on even harder times. We may not have had any outbreaks of disease yet, but that could change once the rains start.

The road to Melamchi was bad but the road to Tipeni could barely be called a road. The bus had to do some serious off roading through landslide areas in order to get to our destination. We almost got stuck a few times and at one point some men had to dig in the mud to make enough room for the bus to pass. From Tipeni we started walking. Radha hasn’t been back to her village in a very long time. As we walk, she points out the high school where she used to study. The school is also collapsed. One building which didn't sustain too much damage is being used as a camp. Radha used to walk 2 or more hours to school every day. She is one of the few people in her village to complete her class 10 exams. I wonder who will rebuild the schools in villages like these and how long it will take before kids can go back to school.

When we arrive in Radha’s village, we have to pick our way around fallen down houses to reach her family’s shelter. Her family has built a shelter out of wooden beams and metal sheets used for the roof. The shelter is too low to stand in and you have to duck to get through the opening (there is no door) though many people hit their head on the low beam going in and out (including me). They have straw mats to sit on. The cooking fire is in the entrance which keeps the shelter warm but also really smoky. When we arrive it is already dark and we are exhausted from the long day of traveling. The family offers us a bit of rice with a fried spinach-like vegetable (saag). We are given a tarp to sleep on with a mat and a blanket. Shortly after lying down to sleep the rumble of an aftershock passes under the shelter. I look up. I am sleeping directly under the main beam holding up the shelter. I sure hope it the shelter is solid.

The next morning everyone wakes up at sunrise. Radha leaves to go visit more of her relatives. I am left with the Grandma who is blind and sits in a corner and the kids. The older boys have tied some string around a rock and they are twisting the string to make the rock spin like a top. The kids are all filthy with snot running out of their noses. It reminds me a bit of my village in Cameroon and how I used to play a fun game called “lets wash our hands and face” with the little ones when they would come to my house (especially Djibirila who always had green slime all over his face and down his belly). After a while I get bored and go for a walk. All the women are out tilling their fields. They watch me curiously as I go by. I don’t think they see many foreigners in their village. I find the water source and wash my hands and face. By now, I am almost as filthy as the kids. Unfortunately, I wore my white Himalayan Adventure Girls t-shirt but it isn't white anymore. I hope I will be able to wash the grime out…

During my walk, I think about all the things I have to do before leaving. I only have one week left and my heart breaks at the thought of leaving this place. I am reminded of how hard it was when I had to leave Cameroon and I don’t want to go through that again, but I now I will have to. I feel like I am abandoning the people I came to help all over again. How can I leave my friends when their houses are in ruins? I walk back to the shelter with a very heavy heart.

When I get back, Radha is waiting for me. Her family is cooking rice but they have nothing to eat with it, they will eat it plain. Radha and I want to get back quickly to Tipeni because we don’t want to miss the bus back. We figure we can get food in either Tipeni or Melamchi. The walk down is much faster than the walk up. We arrive in Tipeni around noon only to find out that there are no buses going back to Tipeni that day, but if we wait around we might be able to catch a ride with one of the trucks transporting aid materials…Otherwise we will have to walk. It’s another scorching hot day. Walking to Melamchi would be brutal in this heat, we decide to wait and see if there are any trucks going by.

While we wait, I talk to one of the aid coordinators. He tells me that they have received enough rice and have been able to provide almost everyone in the district with rice; they have even been able to help some of the neighbouring districts. However, he complains that they received some donations which were non-essential – things like boxes of biscuits and chocolate bars. Although these are nice treats to give to kids at times like these, there are not enough for everyone and it creates conflicts. It would have been more useful to spend that money on things like dahl, cooking oil and salt to go with the rice. When we first arrived in Tipeni there was an awful smell of dead animals which were still trapped and rotting under the fallen buildings. The coordinator says that they started removing animals corpses the day before and they will continue again today although many volunteers are already starting to leave and they need a lot of help. It isn't easy work especially for big animals like ox which they have to carry and bury somewhere. It is also dangerous work because buildings can still collapse or the rubble could shift and someone could get injured. This is why rescuing people trapped in their houses and recovering bodies is supposed to be done by specialized teams, but in most remote areas, villagers had to do that work themselves because no rescue teams ever came to the rescue.

The air is suffocating in the tent, but outside there is no shade to hide from the sun. Radha and I still haven’t eaten anything though volunteers give us some juice boxes. I don’t like to take from the relief supply, but if we don’t eat or drink something we will pass out in this heat. Eventually, a truck goes by and we beg a lift to Melamchi. Turns out the driver is going all the way to Kathmandu and Radha talks him into driving us back. When we finally reach Melamchi around 2:30pm we stop for a cold drink and a quick lunch of chowmein then we hit the road again. The ride is really bumpy so it is impossible to sleep. Radha nods off a couple of times only to be brutally awakened again when we go over a bump and she hits her head against my shoulder. I know I am going to have bruises when I get home. By the time we reach Kathmandu I am covered in a layer of dust so thick, I’m not even sure my mother could recognize me. The first thing I do when I get home is jump into the shower. The trip was really exhausting but worthwhile if only to gain a better understanding of what is happening on the ground in terms of relief efforts to remote areas in Sindupalchowk. After we get some rest, we will see what steps we will take next and how best we can continue to contribute to that effort.

                           

Photo credit: Radha

Earthquake

I hate waiting. I feel so useless just sitting around waiting. I feel like I should be doing something right now. So many people lives are literally falling apart right now and I’m just sitting here drinking tea as if it was just another day in Kathmandu. Except no one has showered or slept in days and every time there is a loud noise everyone jumps. We all sit outside in the driveway because no one wants to go back into the house.

Luckily our house is sturdy and withstood the earthquake well, but as one friend points out it doesn’t matter if your house is strong if the house next to you is weak…There is a 7 storey hotel next door that has disconcerting cracks all over the bottom floor and some of the interior has collapsed. I’m not worried about our house but I keep eyeing the hotel next door every time we feel a rumble under our feet (which is every few minutes). Some houses fell over at both ends of our street but the most buildings all around us are still standing. We were extremely lucky. Other areas of Kathmandu have been flattened. Ten minutes away, my friend and his family are camped outside. Their house is still standing but unsafe to move back into. Most of his neighbourhood have lost their homes. We camped with them on the first night in someone’s vegetable field. The raised beds made it terribly uncomfortable and impossible to sleep. I huddled with my friends – 5 of us - under one blanket. One friend beside me was shivering uncontrollably. “I’m so cold!! I think I have hypothermia,” he tells me. I don’t think so. I think he probably is just in shock.

My friend, Natasha, and I were very lucky. We were at the house when the earthquake happened. We didn’t see any of the devastation. Our friends however, were not as sheltered as us. They were at Swayambunath when the earthquake hit. Many people were gathering there that day for a special cultural program that was supposed to start that afternoon. Natasha and I were supposed to go meet them there, but a miscommunication delayed us at the house. Luckily our friends were in the parking lot when a side of the temple collapsed. That night, huddled in the dark under the blanket my friend whispers to me “We saw lots of things. One little girl couldn’t find her father. Another woman was searching for her husband and children.” Coming back down the hill they passed several houses that had fallen down. In one house a family had gathered for puja when the house came down on them; no one survived. Describing the scene my friend says “The blood was just running out.” (A few days later a rescue team from India dug under the rubble of that house and found a little girl who was badly injured but still alive).

Throughout the night we are shaken by aftershocks. Each time, a panic rises in the camp. People start to scream, cry and pray. We all watch the buildings around us for any sign of potential danger. In the morning people start to roll up their blankets and head home when we are hit by yet another big aftershock. Everyone came running back in a panic. We drink some tea and eat some biscuits before heading back to our home. During the day we stay at our house, it is better than being in the camps. At least here we have water, an outside kitchen were we can cook food, and proper toilets (no water for flushing but it’s still more sanitary than the makeshift toilets in the camps). We stock up on rice, lentils and drinking water. Most water tanks (which are on the rooftops in Nepal) were knocked down, broken and emptied during the earthquake so we can already predict that there will be a water shortage soon in Kathmandu and the prices for food will skyrocket in the next few days.

At night we pack up our valuables, some snacks and water, blankets and sleeping bags and head for an open field to spend the night in. We lock up the house but the neighbourhood has organised a watch because with everyone out of their houses the likelihood of theft has increased. Already on the first night, neighbours caught a thief in our area. On the second night, they break up a fight between a couple of drunks. One man brags, “we are better than the Nepali police!” Indeed, their level of organisation and ability to work together and look out for each other in these difficult times amazes and humbles me.  The second night, we go to another camp in a field. At least here the ground is flat and soft so we can lie down comfortably. However, minutes after arriving someone tells us that thunderstorms are expected that night. We don’t have a tarp, tent or even a plastic sheet to cover ourselves with. We try to find some shelter but if another shock comes there is the risk that our shelter could collapse or someone could get crushed in the rush to try to get out (we aren’t the only ones looking for shelter). In the end we decide to tough it out in the rain. In the rain we might get wet but at least we will still be alive…We spent a miserable night wet and cold.

Part of what makes the waiting intolerable is that the networks are down so I can’t reach any of my friends. Other than my friends at Green Soldiers, I haven’t heard from any of the girls at Himalayan Adventure Girls or from any of my paddling friends or friends outside of Kathmandu. I want to look for people, but I have no idea where to look, all of them have either left Kathmandu or are staying in camps. I have no idea where they are. I rationalize that at least if I stay put at GS eventually they will come looking for me here. Indeed, on the fourth day, some of the boys from GRG show up at the gate. I am so relieved to see them. The building they stay in is sketchy at the best of times; A tall 6 storey building with a narrow cement staircase without sides on the inside so it often feels like I am going to miss my step and step into the void. The building is in a back alley and surrounded by other tall buildings, there are no open spaces nearby and the whole thing looks incredibly unstable. The boys were on the top floor and when the earthquake started they ran to the rooftop and held on. They rationalized that if the building collapsed at least they would be on top. As soon as the initial shock passed they ran downstairs and towards the big intersection. That day we find Sita on the way to the boat house. She is shook up and afraid but otherwise alright. Her family lives in Pokhara so they are safe. Sita and the boys are all going to leave the next day to return to their families. It isn’t safe in Kathmandu; buildings that have been weakened by the tremors could still fall at any moment and the threat of an epidemic looms over us. The boys ask me to come with them, but I don’t want to leave my friends behind especially since they stuck by me and looked after me throughout the whole ordeal. We have a plan to do some fundraising to buy supplies from the Indian border to help people close to us who have been affected by the earthquake. I decide to stay.

The following day Anu and Radha come to GS. It’s a tearful reunion. The girls have been through so much and I can’t even fathom what it has been like for them. I thank my lucky stars and my army of angels a million times. Anu had to walk 2 hours to get to my guesthouse because the roads are blocked to get to her village so no vehicles can pass. Anu was in Thamel when the earthquake hit and her first thought was that she had to get back to her daughter who was staying with her family on the outskirts of Kathmandu. Her family is safe but everyone in the village has lost their house. The whole community is currently living communally under tarps. They organized themselves to build proper latrines and a cooking space where they all contribute and cook food for everyone. Radha was in Fishling when the earthquake hit. Despite being close to the epicentre of the earthquake, no houses fell down in Fishling and all of our friends there are safe. However, as soon as the first wave hit, Radha got on a bus to try to get back to her family in Kathmandu. On her way back, she narrowly missed being buried under a landslide. She said they saw the rocks fall and if they had passed two minutes later they would have been buried. Like Anu, Radha’s family lost their home but they were able to get out alive. However, Radha’s relatives from her village in Sindupalchowk are still stuck under the rubble and they don’t know if they are dead or alive. No aid or rescue teams have reached that area yet and the fact that the village is very remote makes it difficult to get any help there (there is no road access). We are trying to get food and supplies together to bring to her village as soon as possible. 

I haven’t heard from Kamala yet but somehow amidst all the chaos she managed to catch her flight and go to Japan where she has a job working as a raft guide for the summer. Kamala’s village like Radha’s is also in Sindupalchowk and has been destroyed. Her grandparents and one of her uncles died. We have been unable to contact her family and find out what their situation is but we are planning to go find them when we bring supplies to Radha’s village. Aid started arriving in Sukute near Kamala’s village yesterday so hopefully some of that aid has reached her family.

Update on where I am staying, some of my friend’s relatives who lost their home have come to live with us. Luckily, the people who had been staying at the guesthouse (partyers who had come for a trance festival and didn’t stop partying despite the humanitarian crisis happening around them) have left for Pokhara so we have enough space for everybody. Electricity and internet came back yesterday and today we should get running water again and hopefully we will be able to shower (we are all getting a bit smelly). We have enough food and drinking water. We eat two full meals of dahl bhat (rice and lentils) every day and yesterday we were even able to get a bit of chicken. We rarely stop to think about how privileged we really are, but right now none of us can take anything for granted. So many of our friends and neighbours have lost everything they had. I cannot even tell you how grateful I am for all the abundance in my life. I have been blessed with so much and I hope that I will never take that for granted.

No pain No gain

No pain no gain. I think that statement needs to be reevaluated. Why should something have to hurt in order for it to be considered an achievement? I practice a risky sport and to me success means making it down the river with as little pain as possible- preferably all in one piece and still smiling. Like many people, I have been known to brag about injuries and scars obtained while attempting some crazy (and cool) feat. We celebrate pain as a measure of strength, toughness and ability. Tales of accidents, endurance and determination might make the stories we tell when we go home more exciting and adventurous, but really, wouldn’t it be way cooler to say we took on some incredible challenge and everything went amazingly well and we had no problems? I guess the goal, particularly in adventure sports, would be to perform a particular stunt without it causing you any pain but I guess once you reach that level than it no longer presents a challenge any more because you have mastered that ability.
 

The reason behind these ponderings on pain and gain is that I just came off an 8 day paddle bruised and battered with a bump on my head and achy muscles everywhere all to be able to say I paddled the Sun Koshi river. Hours of paddling on flat water in the wind and rain for a few short minutes of adrenaline and white water. By the time we reached Harkapur – the biggest rapid on the river – we had already been paddling for four days. The first few days we drifted in the hot sun, layering on sun screen and having water fights to cool down. At camp on the 3^rd day we were hit by a small sandstorm. The wind picked up and sand blew everywhere. Despite this, the guides still managed to cook the best meal ever of “lasagna” (butterfly pasta cooked with veggies and cheese in a dutch oven) and fish. The fish was a big fatty that the boys managed to catch with the help of a local fisherboy who also supplied them with weed and roxy for the long journey. The wind continued to blow throughout the night and I woke up a few times with increasing amounts of sand in my ears, face and sleeping bag. How does sand manage to get EVERYWHERE??!! Even with the zippers all done up on the tent, the sand was still managing to sneak its way into every crack and corner!!

“I would rather have rain than sand” says one of my rafting companions. Words spoken too soon. The next day we were hit by a storm that lasted most of the afternoon and into the night. Head down under the pouring rain, I paddled to stay warm. Occasionally a bolt of lightning would strike a bit too close for comfort but we kept moving. At one point, we stopped in a village to “refuel” (ie: get more roxy). We warmed up in a local tea house and enjoyed the quaintness of village life. At one point, I thought it would be a good idea to go for a walk out on the bridge – I
was almost at the bridge when I realized that standing on a giant metal structure in a storm probably wasn’t the brightest idea…I went to check out the pigs instead because pigs are cool. When the rain let up a bit we continued on. We were lucky enough to be able to set up our camp and take down our camp in relative dryness but the rain continued for the next couple of days. I don’t mind rain while I am on the water so long as I can sleep in a dry tent at night. The guides on the other hand slept under a shelter which they made by propping up the raft. One really windy night, the raft was knocked down on them…twice then it started to rain...

Each day I would ask “when are we going to get some real whitewater?” and every day the guides would tell me “tomorrow”. When we finally reached Harkapur we had already been paddling hard all day and I could feel every muscle in my body ache (even my toes were getting a workout). I have never paddled this much in my life and after a few months of being stationary after my car accident, my body just isn’t used to this much exercise. I scouted the rapid from atop a giant rock (that I wasn’t able to get down from afterwards and hurt my foot jumping down). One of the guides points to a big sticky hole at the bottom of the rapid: “that’s what you want to avoid. You go in there and you’ll have a hard time getting out.” I was a little bit nervous so naturally I flipped ABOVE the big hole.  I still made it out okay only to make the exact same mistake on the next rapid, Harkapur 2. I finished the day exhausted and disappointed. Four days (or was it 5??) of hard paddling to get to this one big rapid and I messed it up! Luckily the rapids didn’t end there. The next morning we had a great run through the Jungle Corridor with lots of big waves. I corrected the mistake I had made the day before and had a great ol’ time on that section without rolling once. That evening, the rain let up and the sun came out for a few hours before giving way to a clear night sky. The boys joined a soccer game with the locals and I sat around with my new friends watching the entertainment and eating popcorn. Some adorable little girls hung around us, curious about the strangers camped on their beach. My friend took animated videos of me on her phone with spiders eating my head and dragons burning me to a crisp. The kids were very amused.

By the time we arrived at the last campsite, I was sunburnt, sore all over, bruised and downright exhausted. So when one of the guides suggested that we run the lower Tamur (a technical class IV+ river) on the last day, my answer was naturally “Yeah! Let’s do it!” That night, a local villager went to catch us a wild chicken for dinner. When he didn’t come back after dark, we sent another villager to go find him. He strapped on a lifejacket and expertly swam across the river using the current to his advantage then disappeared into darkness on the other side. About an hour later, we heard shouting on the other shore. One of the guides hopped in a kayak to go recuperate the chicken and another one of our kayaks that was stranded on the other side. “You know you are in Nepal when you paddle across a river in the dark with a squawking chicken between your legs freaking out.” While the locals kill, clean and chop up the chicken for dinner, we put on some traditional Nepali music and have a dance party. Another rafting company, who just finished a trip on the Tamur and are camped just down the beach from us, come to check out the action because we are clearly having more fun than them! The chicken tastes delicious!

The next morning, I wake up at 4am and with my guide and a porter carrying my kayak, we walk half an hour along a little mountain goat trail then ferry across the river to where our vehicle is waiting to take us to our put in point. The truck that is going to take us to the river is an antique – rusted and shaking like the doors might fall off at any moment. The drive to the put in is about 3 hours along an unpaved narrow steep sketchy road that curves around the mountain side often along the edge of a cliff where we can see the river winding its way through the valley far below. The sun starts to rise, a bright red dot in front of us, illuminating the surrounding mountains in its morning glow. We brought only the bare minimum so no camera to take any pictures of the panorama in front of us. We pass through villages with houses made out of bamboo weaved together. The houses are all elevated with sleeping lofts and bamboo balconies on top. The balconies are decorated with lovely little flower pots and hanging laundry. Everyone is awake with the rising sun, and you can see people out plowing their fields. Several people try to stop our truck and catch a ride. We see a tractor and two or three other vehicles, but I can see why people would want a ride. It appears not many vehicles come by this way.

Despite the bumps in the road, I start to nod off towards the end. Before getting on the water, we stop to drink tea and eat some breakfast. It’s around 8:30am when we finally push off into the current. We warm up on a few small rapids. I can feel my body is exhausted, but I am excited to be here and feeling confident. I sit straight in my boat and take long strong strokes remembering to use my whole body and not just my arms. When the rapids start they come hard and fast. The river is technical and rocky with almost continuous rapids broken up by just short breaks in between each one to catch my breath. I started off feeling strong, but it wasn’t long before my body decided enough was enough. “Aggressive paddling! Aggressive paddling!” My guide would yell at me. I would lean forward and dig my paddle in but it felt like cutting through air. I had no power left and my legs were like dead weights in my boat. My mind and body were locked in a battle of wills and my mind was losing. I flipped and bounced my head along some rocks. I had already hit my head really hard early on and reinjured my neck and shoulder that had been recovering from whiplash. I rolled back up but I was shaking everywhere and barely holding it together. I squeezed my eyes shut, close to tears, and took some deep breaths. There was no other way out but down. I had to finish the run.

My guide was brilliant. He stuck with me, both encouraging and pushing me to continue and trying to make me laugh to ease the tension. We took a short break and when we got back into our kayaks I started singing - my foolproof method of getting over my fear and calming my nerves. It worked. My heartbeat slowed. I stopped shaking. My body was still screaming with pain and tiredness, but my mind just rose above the noise. I joked and laughed with my guide because laughing is better than crying. When we finally made it to the end of the rapids I sighed with relief then flipped once on a wave train just for good measure. But the ordeal wasn’t over we still had over an hour of flat water paddling in headwinds to get to the take out and then another 15 hours by local bus to get back to Kathmandu. I put my head down and tried to ignore the pain. Don’t stop. Just keep moving. It took every ounce of my will power to make it to the end and once I got there I had nothing left. I took a couple of pain killers before getting on the bus and hoped they would knock me out so that when I woke up we would already be in Kathmandu. My plan didn’t work and the bus ride was interminable. To add to my list of injuries, my feet became swollen and scratched from trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in on the bus.

We arrived in Kathmandu around 8am the following day, but my guesthouse where I have been living for the past four months had been booked while I was away and I had nowhere to stay. A friend walked to 4 different hotels with me helping me carry my gear in order to find me a place to stay. It wasn’t easy because the tourist season has started so prices have gone up and also because it was morning so the rooms weren’t ready in some places and I wasn’t willing to wait. The other issue was after 8 days on the river and a horrible, hot, dusty bus ride, I was in desperate need of a hot shower and most places only have solar shower which means you have to wait until the afternoon to shower when the sun has warmed up the water. We eventually settled on a place, but hopefully, I will be able to move back to my regular “home away from home” soon.

So, was the pain worth it? Without a doubt yes. And I would do it all over again in a heart beat. In particular, I hope to get a “redemption run” of the Tamur soon enough. Since I know I have the ability to run that level of river but that that day just wasn’t the right time for me to be running it. This time there was more pain and while I gained a lot from the experience, I hope that next time, I will be able to gain just as much but with half the pain. 



Photo credits to Scott, Stacey and Liam!

Marsyangdi

We scout the next big rapid from atop a giant boulder. My guide looks at me: “What do you think? It’s ok?”

I shrug: “Well, I might hit that hole.” I point at the crux of the rapid which I figure is the most likely point where I will flip. I pause thoughtfully, then add: “Well, I might hit all those holes…” I point at the rest of the rapid. That’s why they call me hole bait. (Just for the record, I didn’t hit any of the above mentioned holes and I ran that rapid perfectly).

I laugh and hop-skip my way back to my kayak, careful not to slip on any rocks. I’m surprised at how unafraid I am. I must be gaining confidence because though this is one of the most technical rivers I’ve ever run, yet none of the rapids we’ve scouted has worried me so far. I don’t even feel the slightest bit nervous, just excited.

As I approach the spot where I left my kayak, I chant: "Kayaking is fun! I love kayaking! Kayaking is fun!" The rafters sit quietly in the raft awaiting our return – they have no idea what is waiting for them around the corner and it’s better they don’t know. I look at them with a glint of mischievousness in my eyes. I don’t talk to rafters very often but I decide to make an exception this time. “You can tell how big the rapids are that are coming up by how excited I am when I get back from scouting” I tell them. They laugh nervously. I proceed to empty water from my kayak only to fill it up again when I try to sit in it and it shoots out from under me and I fall in the water sideways. This time everyone laughs – see how much fun we are having!

I messed up the first big rapid we ran and flipped twice, but still came out smiling. The next one went much smoother and by the third one I was starting to really have fun. I spent most of the day with a big smile plastered on my face and finished most rapids laughing with glee. Kayaking is the best! And Marsyangdi river is hands down the best river I have ever paddled; Technical and challenging but with a lot of really fun drops and some great moves. I am so grateful and excited to be here. This is probably the most fun I’ve had since arriving in Nepal.

We almost didn’t get the chance to run Marsyangdi. My friend who I hired to be my guide and I set out on Monday to go to Marsyangdi. I had been waiting for a long time to go run this river and kept missing out on trips going there, so I finally decided that if I was going to go I had to take matters into my own hands. I talked one of my friends into taking me for a couple of days this week then talked the company that he works for into letting me “borrow” him for few days. By the time we arrived on Monday, it was too late to do any runs that day – we would have to wait for tomorrow. We found a local “hotel” to stay in (the only one in town) owned by a lovely woman who took it upon herself to overfeed me for the next few days. She also taught me quite a few new Nepali words as she didn’t speak any English but was super pleased to hear me speak a few words in Nepali.

That evening while we were feasting on dahl bhat with some other guests and drinking roxy (everyone but me), someone informed us that a strike had been called for the next 3 days which means no buses, no shops, no work, no nothing. We were stuck there. At first, I thought it really isn’t a bad place to be stuck so long as I can still go kayaking, but I was told that there would be no kayaking. With the strike on, there is no transport so we have no way of shuttling back from the river. We could run the lower section, but we would have no way to get back to our hotel after. I thought we might be able to hire a private car to take us but it would be expensive and anyway, we couldn’t find any one who was willing to take us…I was crushed. I came all this way and now I wouldn’t even get to paddle. What a waste of time and money! And who knows when I might get another chance to come back here!!! What a disaster!

The next day, my friend and I went for a walk along the quiet deserted road closed down by the strike. After lunch, I was napping in a dahl bhat coma when my friend shook me awake: “Put your gear on. We’re going kayaking!” Like music to my ears, a rafting company had just arrived with some clients to do 2 days of paddling on Marsyangdi river and they have their own private transport! It turns out the guides from that company didn’t have much experience on this particular river and they were uncertain which lines to take so they seized the chance to have my guide and I come along so long as my guide (who has more experience and knowledge of the river) agreed to lead the way. Everybody wins!

We ran the lower section the first day which was fun but not particularly challenging and the upper section the following day which was where the real action took place. At the end of the day, the company even gave us a ride back to Fishling where we started. One friend told me that Marsyangdi is the nicest river in Nepal with the exception of the Tamba Koshi. He tried to talk me into doing a trip to the Tamba Koshi, but I think it will have to wait a bit. The Tamba has continuous class 5 rapids for 3 km and is still a bit above my skill level. I may need a bit more practice before I tackle that one, but I am getting there. 

All in a day's work

Some curious passerbys pop their heads in the doorway to peek into the room where we are working. The girls are huddled together on a folded up yoga mat and giggling. Their challenge is to flip the mat over with all of them standing on the mat – not allowed to touch ground!

We have been working on identifying problems and solutions to developing their business and in between doing a bit of teambuilding. Starting a tourism based company in Nepal isn’t an easy feat and the girls are up against some really tough competition. While being the only women-owned and operated adventure company gives them a competitive edge, this unique quality can also be seen as a bit of a disadvantage. As women, the adventure girls have to fight against the belief that women are not strong enough or skilled enough to be river guides. While some people (like me) might choose to hire Himalayan Adventure Girls as guides because they support the cause of women’s empowerment and want to encourage more women participating in the adventure tourism industry; Others need to be convinced that women can do as good a job, if not better, than men.

“We are really proud to be Himalayan Adventure Girls, but some people look down on us. They don’t see that we can also work hard.”

“They say we are not strong enough to carry a raft” Another girl adds laughing, “but none of the guides can carry a raft by themselves, they always hire porters to carry the rafts.”

In some cases, women are harder to convince than men. Some men like the idea of having a female guide (it makes the trip more interesting), but some women feel they are not strong enough to do the work of a guide, so they assume other women can’t do it either. Those that do choose to go on a trip with the girls though don’t regret it. The best way to promote your company is through happy clients who spread the word by talking about their experience with their friends. Last Saturday the girls took a group of 8 students rafting on Bhote Koshi river. The students were so thrilled with the experience they are currently recruiting more friends to go on another big rafting trip. The trip also gave the girls publicity as it is not every day that locals see a raft go buy with a woman guiding and a woman as safety kayak. The girls reported that local people were surprised and impressed to see women guiding on the river without any male support.

On top of facing sexism and discrimination, the girls also struggle with being short staffed and lacking resources. For example, there are only 4 women working for the company right now and not only do they do all the guiding and trip planning, but they also have to do all the office administration, finances, marketing and communication on their own. Most companies will hire an office assistant, accountant and IT/communications manager to take care of all the different aspects of running a business, however the girls have to do it all themselves until they have the resources to hire some help. This means learning to master new skills like how to work on the computer/internet, how to write in English, how to manage business accounts, etc. They aren’t kidding when they say they have an “all-skills” adventure company; these women do everything!

Another major challenge the girls have to overcome is the fact that they do not own their own raft. Every time they have a booking, they have to search for a company kind enough to rent them a raft- but no company will rent a raft unless you also hire a guide to go with it (you can’t just rent the raft, you have to hire the guide too). However, the girls don’t need a guide, they ARE the guides. What they need is a raft. We are in the process of looking for money to buy a raft, but rafts are expensive and ideally, the girls would need more than one. That’s part of why we are here today, to think of solutions, to strategize and do some action planning for how the girls are going to build up and expand their company.

Before the end of the meeting, it starts pouring rain outside. The girls sit on cushions sprawled around the room. They are talking and joking together about a guy in spandex shorts the last time we went rafting. I don’t get the jokes but it makes me smile just to listen and watch them enjoying themselves. Someone pulls out a makeup case and the girls put on some lipstick. One girl tells me about the “old fashioned” ideas of her mother who thinks a woman shouldn’t leave the house without putting on makeup. I love how the girls can be both feminine and beautiful as well as hard core paddlers. I tell the girls how back home I would show up at the intake in a dress and high heels with my kayak over one shoulder and a paddle in my hand. Us lady kayakers really know how to style it!

It’s getting late and the rain isn’t letting up. We realize we are going to have to get wet in order to get home. It isn’t so bad for me, I don’t live far, but a couple of the girls have a long journey home. Our host goes to the cupboard and pulls out a maroon matching rain proof pants and jacket for one girl and a black rain poncho for another, the last girl gets a green rain jacket. Another girl offers to share her umbrella with me. We tromp off into the drizzling night rain, our clothes dampened but not our spirits.

Learning compassion and non-violence

29/02/2015

Another violent man, another woman suffering. I can hear her through the walls of my room though the sound is muffled by the rain outside. I struggle to figure out whether the noise is coming from next door or downstairs. I pace. Should I go over there and knock on the door? What if I make it worse for her? It’s already a lot worse than the last one. She isn’t just getting a few slaps. The beating started with the sound of breaking glass and what sounded like a rack of dishes being thrown to the floor. Who do you think will be cleaning up that mess afterwards?

I can’t handle this shit. It makes me so angry and upset. I don’t understand how someone can be so brutal to another human being. I don’t understand how someone can hurt the person they claim to love. The guy next door has been with his girlfriend for something like two years and how often in that time has he used her as a punching bag? The violence erupted out of the blue. Things were quiet next door and the lights were out, I thought they had gone to bed early – the beating seemed to come out of nowhere…without provocation, rhyme or reason.

I have to try hard to see these violent men as humans. I have to try hard to see beyond the act of violence. Not in order to make excuses or justify their behaviour, but in order to feel compassion instead of anger.  I need to rise above feeling angry: First, for my own sanity and well-being because anger is a burden too heavy for my heart to carry; and second, because if I want to create a world of non-violence than I need to start by eliminating the aggressiveness and rage inside of me. While anger might have its place in any struggle for justice, it is an emotion that can only take us so far. How can we hope to change the world if we don’t change ourselves first? If I react in anger then I reinforce the perpetrator’s violent behaviour by demonstrating that anger is a normal and acceptable way to resolve our problems. When what I really want to show him is that as humans we can control our emotions and we can choose to react differently. Using violence is a choice; it is not who we ARE. Consequently, a person can CHOOSE to use violence or can choose NOT to use violence.

I don’t believe that people should be defined by their worst actions. People are neither good nor evil, but we all have within us the capacity to DO good or evil. If we say that someone “IS violent” then violence becomes the defining aspect of their identity; violence becomes a part of who he is rather than something he does. Violence, in this sense, is portrayed as a fatalistic character flaw that the person cannot change easily which subsequently removes accountability (ex: it’s not his fault, he was born that way). However, if we see violence as something a person DOES instead of IS than it becomes something they can control. We might not be able to change who we ARE but we can change what we DO. Thus, I would like to retract the statement I made above: My neighbour is not a violent man; he is a man who last night CHOSE to use violence against his girlfriend. Next time, I hope he will make a different choice.

It might seem like simple semantics, but rephrasing the discourse this way gives me hope that things can change. Currently, society teaches men to use violence to resolve their differences, but if violence is something someone can learn then it can also be UNlearned. Men can learn to control their anger and they can learn to use non-violence. But in order to help these men change their behaviours we need to be able to see them as human, not as monsters; so that they can also see themselves as human. We need to be able to show them compassion and help them commit to a life of non-violence by showing them that they have a choice; that they do not have to use violence.

…Beautiful words. A nice thought…but I’m not there yet. As much as I would like to be able to show compassion and forgiveness; as much as I would like to rise above it all; I’m still dealing with my own anger. 

I LOVE KAYAKING!!!

23/02/2015

That moment when you realize you are actually a better kayaker than you thought you were; That moment when you realize that you are actually in control of your kayak and can make it go where you want it to; That moment when you finish running a rapid that you didn’t think you could do and you nailed it! That moment is awesome.

I have been getting to know a few of the rafting companies around Thamel and keeping an eye out for any upcoming trips. Last week, one company, some friends of a friend, said that they had someone book a 3-days trip to Bhote Koshi and if I wanted I could tag along. I have been dying to get out onto the river more and so I seized the opportunity. Bring it on Bhote Koshi!

Bhote Koshi is a more technical river which involves dodging lots of giant boulders. The river is especially rocky right now since the water levels are low. It’s great if you want to practice boofing (a term which means trying to bounce your kayak off rocks – something our guide clearly loved doing), but also not ideal for rolling. Given my history of neck injuries this past year, I didn’t want to take any chances hitting my head against some rocks. The other woman who was paddling with me had a full face helmet…smart. I need to get me one of those.

On the other hand, I think my back injury has actually helped improve my paddling by forcing me to have a better posture which means staying stronger in my core and using my hips more to control my boat. No more lazy paddling! Reversely, paddling is helping to strengthen my back and neck muscles and I haven’t been in any pain since I started paddling again. Who knew kayaking was a good way to treat whiplash?

I didn’t have anything to worry about though, since I only rolled once in 3 days of paddling and not even on one of the hard places where I was sure I would roll! (I also rolled a second time, but it doesn’t count because my guide literally pulled me under. I had been talking about how much fun kayak polo is and how I learned to edge after getting flipped 6 times in one game and my guide clearly thought the guys back home were onto something and decided to test my edging prowess. Also, I may have started it by trying to flip him first while he had his deck pulled…Needless to say, we both ended up upside down.)

On the first day, the run was really fun and there was only one rapid were I felt really nervous. We stopped to scout it and I had to sing some happy songs to keep me from psyching myself out. Of course, I nailed it and it was awesome. The next day we ran another river, Balefi, which was even more narrow and creeky but I felt it was a bit slower and easier than the day before. Again there was one rapid that we had to scout which had a bit of a drop and if you missed the line you would get pinned between two rocks. This rapid was less scary though because if you pinned it would be a really easy rescue and no need for rolling or swimming. The consequences were minimal. Of course, I pinned and laughed and laughed. I jumped out of my kayak, shouting: “that was fun! Let’s do it again!”

The last day, we ran the upper section of Bhote Koshi – a technical class 4 with continuous rapids (meaning no long stretches of flat water in between). The guides warned us the ride would be fast and intense – 30 minutes of hard paddling. I was really nervous and not sure I wanted to run it. The night before the guide had told me he thought the rapid would be a bit hard for me. We had discussed running it or not but the other woman wanted to give it a try. It was her last day kayaking in Nepal so I let her decide, but I was really worried about running it. I started off really shaky – I was managing to keep my boat upright but I was just barely making the moves and cutting it close to some rocks. We came to one of the tricky parts and eddied out at the top so that one guide could scout the way because there was a tree. I could see the moves he was making and I knew that if I was going to make it down this rapid I would need to calm down and stay focused. A part of me wanted to say: “I’m just going to get out here and walk” but the guide motioned for us to follow and before I knew it the other two were peeling out and I was right behind them. No time to think, just keep paddling!

At the halfway point, we eddied out again to rest a bit. I was breathing hard and for the first time ever, I had an asthma attack while paddling. I got out of my boat to stretch and took a couple puffs from my inhaler. The guide told us we had already passed two of the hard parts with only one left to go. I couldn’t believe I had already made it that far. I began to relax. I can do this, I thought. When I got back into my boat I was no longer shaking. The rest of the ride was smooth sailing and by the end of it I was smiling and even trying to boof off some rocks. When I reached the bottom, I was ecstatic. Not only did I make it, but I didn’t even roll once. I nailed that f***er like a champion!

It is such a great feeling to work hard to get good at something and then to see yourself improve. It feels amazing to look back at my skill level a year ago and compare to where I am now – rapids that looked terrifying and impossible to me then are now possible and even fun. A whole world of possibilities is opening up to me as I realize that I have the skill level to run more rivers and tougher rapids. I can keep challenging myself and improving my skills until I become like one of those paddlers that that people watch and go “wow, that person is amazing – and crazy!”

I want to go back to Bhote Koshi soon and run it again, but this time with confidence and style. I also want to do so many other rivers and the guys said that they would let me know whenever they have trips so I can join - and even if they don’t have trips we can still go have fun on the river together. I have skillz. I have paddling buddies. I have a kayak (that isn’t mine). I have all I need.

Om Namah Shivaya

18/02/15

I close my eyes again and lean my head back. Just help me get through this alive, I pray…

It’s been one hell of a day and my army of angels are out in full force tonight, working overtime to get me home safe. It’s late and the roads which are already dangerous by day are outright frightening after dark. I am sitting in the front seat - which I never do because you are more likely to get killed in the event of a collision – but I have been really sick all day and I figured I might feel less nauseous if I sat up front. I started feeling ill this morning on the way to Trisuli. I kept burping up these really rank nasty burps and when the car stopped for a pee break, I got out and threw up all of last night’s dahl bhat on a pile of garbage in the ditch. I’ve taken immodium to prevent diarrhea (because that is the last thing you want on a long bus ride), but today is not a good day for my stomach. I tried eating a couple small bananas and some crackers but I was not able to hold anything down. Now I’m getting hunger cramps from not having eaten all day.

For the ride back to Kathmandu, I wanted to get some gravol or something to help with the nausea but the only pharmacy in Fishling was already closed by the time we got off the river. I guess I’ll just have to suck it up and try to keep it in for the 3 hour drive along the narrow twisting mountainous pot hole filled road overrun by crazy and reckless drivers – not to mention the dust, exhaust fumes and traffic jams that all add to the pleasure of the ride. The driver that picked us up is really kind though and he offered to drive us all the way back to Thamel so that we wouldn’t have to get another taxi in Kathmandu – I am so grateful for this small act of kindness because it saves us not only a bit of money but a LOT of hassle and time when my sick body just wants to get back home as quickly as possible. Despite wanting to get back to Kathmandu quickly, I am also grateful that our driver is going slowly and not taking any chances passing big trucks.

There is no such thing as a safe way to pass on Himalayan roads. The roads twist and turn so much that if you are going to pass it will inevitably be in a corner. That’s why honking here is such a necessary component of driving. As careful as out driver was, at one point we started to pass a truck and another truck came around the corner ahead of us. The line of cars had already closed the gap we had just left so we couldn’t get back into our lane. Our driver braked and leaned on the horn to warn the other driver to stop, but he didn’t react right away. I opened my eyes to see the headlights coming straight at us and I had a moment of déjà vu from that snowy morning in September when another set of headlights had come bearing down on me. Fear seizes me and all I can think to say is "oh shit" (it won't make it on the buzzfeed list of 10 most memorable last words). At the last second, the truck in front of us slams on the brakes and stops literally a hair’s breadth away from us; I think he might have even lightly touched the front bumper…. Another near miss. I thank my lucky stars, but I can’t help but wonder if and when my luck might run out. My friend who is sitting beside me, grips my hand. It is a while before she lets go.

Earlier we witnessed a hit and run. We had just finished packing up our gear and were getting ready to shuttle back to Fishling when a microvan tried to dodge between two buses parked on either side of the road. One of the buses started to pull out and the microvan had to swerve to avoid hitting it, hitting a man instead who had been standing on the side of the road. People started yelling. One man was holding up the man who had been hit. He was still alive but unconscious. His cheek was trembling as if he was having a seizure and I did not think that he would survive. A crowd quickly began to gather and police from a nearby checkpoint rushed to the scene. I stood rooted to the spot until my friend yelled at me “Come on, Natasha, we have to go quickly there is going to be a (traffic) jam!” I followed her; there was nothing I could do to help anyway.

Today was supposed to be a fun day paddling the lower Trisuli. I had even brought a play boat this time to be able to surf on some waves and practice some tricks, but I have been too sick and weak all day to enjoy any surfing. It’s unfortunate because we did a section of lower Trisuli that we hadn’t done last time where all the fun rapids are. I even got some practice scouting from the river and leading the lines down the rapids. I don’t lead much, usually there is another kayaker who is better than me who leads the way, but I was the only kayaker today and the raft guide hadn’t been on that section of river in a few years so she would send me ahead to scout the rapid and signal to her which way she should line up the raft. It would have been more fun if I had been feeling better but instead of playing around and trying to punch through some holes, I played it safe, picking the easy lines and not trying anything stupid. If I survive the ride back to Kathmandu, I’ll be back again next week for another go at it.

There is a massive traffic jam when we get back to Kathmandu. The driver explains that it is the prime minister and his entourage that are being given the right of way and creating a massive back up in every direction. The traffic controller who is stationed at the intersection is doing a really bad job of directing traffic and other drivers keep making it worse by trying to go around the lineup so what was originally one line of cars quickly turns into three and by the time the traffic controller lets us through our lane has almost entirely been blocked by idiots trying to go in the other direction. We eventually squeeze our way through though our driver has to shake a fist at a few motorcycles who think they can pass anywhere. The clouds have been building up and flashes of lightning occasionally turn the sky a deep purple. The wind picks up and I can smell the storm brewing. We were so close to home, I was hopeful we would make it back before the rain, but the traffic jam held us up and by the time we arrive in Thamel it is pouring rain and big chunks of hail. I am only a 5 minute walk away from my guesthouse but with my boat and gear to carry in the rain while I am sick, I don’t think I can make it. I call a friend to come pick me up. He tells me “It’s raining. I don’t have a rain jacket.” But he comes to get me anyway. It’s almost 10 pm by the time I make it home and crawl into bed. I take some medicine and hope that the nausea won’t keep me awake all night.

Yesterday was Shivaratri – a crazy festival to celebrate the God Shiva, most commonly known as the God of destruction (although Shiva has many different faces and he has the power to create as well as destroy). I went to Shivaratri at Pushupatinath seven years ago and it was one of the most intense experiences of my life so I was a bit surprised at how uneventful yesterday was. I guess the intense energy from yesterday must have spilled over onto today. My neighbour tells me that it is all about balance and if you build up too much energy on one side then there will be a big push back from the other side in order to restore balance. Maybe it’s just the storm but I can feel the intensity in the air and her words make sense to me. Hopefully, tomorrow the world will have returned to a more balanced state and we can all just breathe normally again.

*I didn't get any pictures of babas who come to worship Shiva at Pushupatinath because they now charge foreigners 1000Rs (about 10$ which is ridiculously expensive here) to get into the park above the Temple - when I was there 7 yrs ago, entrance was free.

Pictures from the line up at the Temple in Pushupatinath

A storm is coming...

Not just a bystander

14/02/15

I am sitting on the rooftop washing my underwear, just minding my own business when a guy comes up and sits down to my left. A girl follows behind him reluctantly, head bowed, she avoids looking at me as she walks past. He is upset about something and is speaking harshly in low gruff tones. She keeps her head down and turned away. Occasionally, he grabs her by the chin to force her to look at him or grabs her by the arm to prevent her from pulling away. He keeps repeating the same question “why? Huh? Why?” Then SLAP. I don’t see his hand move but the sound is unmistakeable. I stop washing and stare at the scene unfolding in front of me. He knows I am there watching – I can tell because he avoids eye contact with me – but he ignores me. A second slap. This time I yell “hey!” loudly. He continues to ignore me. He calls someone on his phone and forces her to speak to whoever it is. She says something off script and he slaps her again a bit harder this time. I yell again and this time he motions irritatedly at me to be quiet.

I don’t understand the argument, but I understand the behaviour. He is controlling and jealous; a bully with a bad temper.  The girl has her back to me and I can’t hear anything she says, but she is clearly afraid of him and I find it unlikely that this is the first time that he has treated her this way. By the fourth slap, I am really mad. This time I yell : “ If you are going to be an asshole, go do it somewhere else, not in front of me. You are not welcome here.” This time he pays attention. He marches over to where I am sitting on my low stool in front of my washing bucket. His posture and the way he looms over me so that I have to look up at him indicate that he is trying to intimidate me, only I don’t frighten that easily. I look him straight in the eyes…If looks could kill, this guy would have been annihilated.

He tells me not to interfere in his personal affairs. I tell him to stop being violent and I won’t. He says I don’t understand the problem, that she broke his heart. I say I don’t need to understand the problem, I understand violence and it is not a good way to solve your problems. He asks me if I think girls should get to do whatever they want. I tell him that is beside the point, the point is regardless of what she did or did not do, it doesn’t give him the right to hit her and abuse her. He tells me if I don’t like it, I should leave. I tell him that he is the one that needs to leave (I live there) and that he shouldn’t come back either. Eventually he gets fed up and goes back to terrorize the girl he is with only this time he drags her farther away from where I am sitting.

About a minute later, another friend comes up the stairs. I am relieved to have someone else there. My friend doesn’t really catch what is going on, but tells the guy to calm down a couple times when the guy gets a bit too aggressive. The guy disappears to go fetch the pieces of the girl’s phone which he threw off the balcony earlier in the argument. I tell my friend that he has been hitting the girl. My friend goes over to her – by now she is huddled on the floor against the railings in tears – they exchange a few words and my friend comes back explaining that she said the guy beats her and she wants to leave him. When the guy comes back he throws the pieces of phone at her then comes to sit for a moment with my friend. More friends arrive and are made aware of the situation.

The girl leaves with the guy and I am afraid for her – I think that once he gets her will take her somewhere else to continue the abuse uninterrupted, but he comes back after a few minutes. He avoids looking at me, but I am pretty sure he can feel the anger sweeping off me like heat waves. My friends sit him down and they have a “talk”. After, they tell me everything is okay and it won’t happen again, but all that means it that it won’t happen in front of us again. Next time that guy wants to slap a girl around, he will take her somewhere where there are no nosy foreigners around to interfere with his “personal affairs”.  I tell my friends that I don’t want the guy to be allowed back here. They make excuses for him saying things like “oh well, he was just angry…his application to go to Japan was rejected so he was having a bad day”. They brush his violence off as if it was not intentional, as if this was the only time he was ever violent (which I doubt), as if he didn’t really know what he was doing. But this is part of the problem, when we don’t hold perpetrators of violence accountable for their actions then they can continue being violent without anyone ever really questioning or challenging their behaviour. Well, today I challenged one guy’s behaviour and if he shows up here again, I will again hold him accountable for it. I will not pretend like nothing happened and like everything is just fine and dandy. I won’t react in anger again because that likely won`t be very productive and will only make him defensive and aggressive, but I do hope that by continuing to question his behaviour that he might eventually learn something from it. And not only him, but my friends as well. I hope that all of them have been given cause for reflection and that they might take the issue of men’s violence against women a bit more seriously next time and not brush it under the rug.

I am posting this in part because I was really shaken up by the incident (like literally, I was shaking I was so angry and upset) and writing is one way that I calm myself and work through strong emotions, but I also wanted to share my reflections because I think it is important to talk about these things. Intervening as a bystander (and in particular in this instance as a foreigner in another culture where I don’t speak the language) is never an easy thing to do and I am sure that while reading this many people might think that I could’ve/should’ve reacted in another way or done something different. I don’t think that there is ever an ideal situation of violence in which to intervene as a bystander and at the end of the day there will always be “what ifs” but I continue to believe that the important thing is to speak up, to engage people in dialogues about violence against women and other forms of violence and to continue reflecting and learning. It is the only way to make change happen.

Trisuli

7/02/15

I am the first to arrive at the office. I look at the time: 6:09am. The sun isn’t even up yet. I sit on the front step and wait. Today is the day I finally get to go paddling. It took some doing. After a month and ½ of delays, the girls wanted to cancel again on me yesterday. I finally had to put my foot down to make this trip happen or I might never have seen any rivers in Nepal. The last few weeks I have been feeling more and more restless and frustrated by the fact that I haven’t done any paddling yet or even done much of anything at all here. Every day I feel like time is running out and I don’t have much to show for the time I have been here. Today is a breakthrough. Finally I will be doing something other than sitting around Kathmandu procrastinating and pretending to be working on my thesis when really I haven’t made any progress whatsoever (no surprises there).

In the end everything works out the way it was meant to and the clients that were supposed to go on a trip today but didn’t call (the reason the girls wanted to cancel), called in the morning to confirm their booking. Not only are we going to the river, but now the girls are working so they have a reason for going beyond just accommodating me.

When the clients arrive at the river, we are surprised to find 4 Nepali guys instead of the two foreign women we were expecting, but not matter, the sun is shining and it is a beautiful day to be on the river. It rained the night before and everyone has been saying that it is a sign that warm weather is on its way. The “cold” season is officially over. Nevertheless, I jump in the river to test its temperature so that I will know whether I need to wear my wetsuit or not. I should have known that it wouldn’t be as cold as everyone said it would be. I put my dry top on and leave my wetsuit in my bag.

The first day we do the lower section of Trisuli. The water level is low and the run isn’t that exciting, but it gives me the opportunity to ease back into things and gage how my neck injury will handle the strain. The boat I am in is long and slow to react. I don’t like it much and would prefer to have my playboat with me. I see local guys with their playboats and I am reminded of my smashed up wavesport EZG back home. I miss my boat...

We ride back in the back of the truck – just the way I like it! At first the boys gallantly insisted on sitting in the back but they were freezing so the girls put them into the cab and rode in the back with me. At some point the driver slammed on the breaks and sent us all flying. One girl hit her head pretty hard and another who was still wearing her helmet exclaimed “safety first!” Indeed I always feel much safer on the river than on the road in Nepal.

At night we make a fire and bbq some chicken over a grill. It tastes delicious but I am not that hungry because I already filled up on dahl bhat (the typical Nepali dish of rice and lentils).  Everyone is speaking Nepali and I don’t understand anything so I sing to myself wishing I had a guitar. I am exhausted and just want to sleep but I don’t want to be the first to go to bed and be a party pooper so I stay up. It’s a full moon and the night is clear and glowing with silvery light. The river sparkles in the reflection of the moon and I feel at peace – this is how I remember Nepal; with the soothing sound of the river in the background, the warm glow of the fire, the laughter of friends, the feeling that everything is right with the world…This is what I was searching for when I made the decision to come back here.

That evening, I reminisce about the fun times I had the first time I was in Nepal when everyday was about kayaking and enjoying life, drinking roxy (local wine) and playing music around campfires. Things are different this time around with more work and less play, more responsibilities and fewer random spontaneous adventures. Previously when I was here, my guides and friends were pretty much all young men who were unattached, carefree and at liberty to do what they want. At that time, if we wanted to take off for three days to go down the river or to go on a trek or to randomly paddle across Phewa lake one day and camp out on the other side, we could just go; we weren’t accountable to anyone or anything. But the reality for the women at Himalayan Adventure Girls is quite different; they have families to take care of, responsibilities outside of their work and financial concerns that keep them busy and means they have less free time to spend on the river. I believe this is one of the reasons why I often find it more challenging to develop relationships with women when I travel than with men because my reality is closer to that of men than women. As a result, I have more in common with men and can bond more easily with them over our shared freedom and independence.

The second day we do the upper section which is a way more fun! The rapids are just challenging enough to be fun without being big enough to be scary. The girls are rafting but one of the local guys joins me kayaking.  I flip more times than I would have liked but I am confident that if I run it again, I could do a clean sweep of it. Unfortunately, the girls don’t want to try it again, that evening they tell me they want to go back to Kathmandu. I am a bit disappointed; we had originally planned to do about a week of training on the river, but I understand that they have worries to take care of at home.

I decide to stay behind to enjoy a few more days on the river. After sending the girls off on a bus back to Kathmandu, I enjoy a nap in the sun on a raft drying on the beach while eating oranges. Later, I gear up and borrow someone’s playboat to practice surfing on a wave. The boats here are fitted to tiny Nepali people and we have to take out all the hip padding so that I can fit – this is fairly normal for me as they don’t really make kayaks for women and I have enough hip padding already that I don’t need any extra. It takes me awhile to get back into it, but I eventually manage a spin which made my day a success.

On my last day, I kayak the upper section again and didn’t flip once! I was super proud of myself, especially on the last big drop which had caught me off guard the previous day but which I was ready for this time. I dug my paddle in and managed to hang on as I crashed between two big holes (that’s right I went between them, not straight through them- whose the hole bait now, huh??). I finished with a great big “I LOVE KAYAKING!” and some paddle high fives with my two friends. Every day is a great day when you are on the river!

Unfortunately, I have to head back to Kathmandu tomorrow to meet with the girls and do some work. I really wish I could just stay here and keep paddling, but I know I will be back soon. And next time I will bring a playboat! It’s going to be fun!