when are we more than girls or boys?

i really hope the answer to that question is never.

yesterday i had an amazing experience talking about writing with eighth graders here in new york. they are so much cooler and hipper than i EVER was (or will be). it was astonishing. it also made me think about how Nepalese children grow into their adult selves.

recently i learned that some of the orphanages are separating the older children so it's all girls or all boys in each house. which i suppose makes sense.

but it also is deeply saddening for me.
when i was over there, i was awestruck at the way the older children took care of the younger ones. feeding, clothing, even rocking them to sleep. after supper, we played clapping games and once there was a circle of us playing "operation" - that game where a secret is passed from one ear to the next and the final person has to announce it to see how it's changed....we played in pigeon english/nepalese that made everyone confused and giddy. it was a circle of children ranging from 4 to 18. how many american 18 year olds do you know who would jump at the chance to play operation for an evening activity?

and the adoration the younger children have for their older "brothers and sisters" is phenomenal. they often begged to start the operation message, only to repeat the one that was sent before:
lakshmi is a beautiful princess

lakshmi is the pseudonym i'm giving to one of the girls at the orphanage. and she is a beautiful princess. a smile that warms the entire room. long, graceful limbs. but most of all because i watched her as the message was passed around again. she ahd no idea they were talkinga bout her again. she was too busy cradling one of the smallest boys, Ram in her arms because he was feeling left out.

keeping the peace

hi friends,

so first of all, thanks for reading and please do send your comments, questions, koolaid recipes. i write with the hope of generating more interest in these children and hopefully finding a way to get more people over there, or at least find a way to help out from afar.

(plus, i'm a yammerer - given the chance i'll talk about these kids for years :-)

so, my friend lauren reminded me of something incredible this past weekend. something that i swore to myself walking the dust-paved roads to thamel that i would never forget - and then promptly did. and that is
the peace.
the calm.
the way days in kathmandu begin with recordings of om hari om and a single flame under a pot of tea. the way children are served their food and eat it sitting on the floor and passing a bottle of water with warm, soupy smiles. the way there is sweeping and dishes, then cutting the vegetables to soak for dinner. the schoolyards, the temples, the coconut stands each echoing a new lesson or prayer. after school tea and biscuits, tag, seesaw, and jigsaw puzzles. the way finding that straight edge for the top left corner of the puzzle feels like my entire purpose for living right now. homework. the sun sifting into pink, orange, milky blue then black. after supper, maybe clapping games, maybe tv. and i am in bed by 8:30, exhausted.

my schedule changed regularly while i was there, but these were my guideposts. and while it feels so far from life in new york, it doesn't need to be. yes, i have to pay rent and buy ingredients for supper. the mta just raised prices and somehow i'm back on coffee once or twice a day. but as lauren said, the sun is still rising and setting, just like it does over kathmandu. i have work to do, but i also have choices. turning on the computer, the tv and the phone at the same time is bound to make me queasy. finding a patch of dust, or on a day like today, a rain puddle, could be much more productive.

so, thank you lauren.
thank you nepal for your sunrise.
and thank you, whomever is reading this, for giving me a chance to remember this gentler life, and hopefully, bring it back home to share.

be well,
abby