SURKHET – The volunteers and local Habitat For Humanity Coordinators.

Week 5
November 24, 2001 - Nepal
"Raw"

Dear Thor:

They say you should beware of things that go BOOM in the night.I learned that lesson last night after dinner when fellow Habitaters Jeff Mathews, Doug Haas, Doris Strader, Linda Gremillion, and I all returned to thedorm where we’d been staying during our build in Surkhet, Nepal.

We decided a game of cards would be fun, so we all gathered around a candlelit table in Linda’s room and started dealing. A few minutes into the game, weheard this thunderous explosion outside.

We sat frozen in place and everything got quiet.

"That didn’t sound very good," I said stating the obvious.

"What was that?" asked Doug.

"Maybe it was fireworks—" said Doris before more explosions cut her off.

"That’s not fireworks."

Before arriving in Nepal, we had all heard about Maoist rebels in Nepal trying to take control of the government. However all the experts said that we would be safe. This was the first sign that the experts might be wrong.

"I think we’ll be fine as long as we don’t hear any small-arms fire," said Jeff trying to calm everyone down. As if on cue, we then heard popping sounds in the distance followed by another explosion.

"I need to find out what’s happening," said Jeff.

We grabbed our flashlights and followed him down a dark corridor leading to our dorm’s gate. Once outside, I noticed that everything in the village of Surkhet was quiet. There were no dogs barking, music playing, or even buses running down the nearby gravel road. It was as if all the villagers were huddled in their homes, trying to hide in the relative protection of darkness.

"Cetar! What’s going on?" we asked when we saw our night watchman.

"Down! Down!" The watchman motioned for us to stay low, then ushered us back into the dorm.

So we returned to Linda’s room and sat staring at each other as light from the candle danced all around the room. Two more explosions broke the silence.

"Okay, I don’t know about all of you, but for the first time on this trip, I’m actually scared." We all looked at Linda and nodded.

The fear in that room was so thick that it was tough to move. Our hearts were pounding, and no one could muster the strength to fake a smile. I doubt if any

of us had felt that way before. This was not the kind of fear you can imagine or pretend. This fear was real. In your face. And raw.

Raw.

That’s actually a great way of describing Nepal. Things here are very, very intense. There’s no middle ground. It’s all or nothing, and very real.

In America, we have a habit of packaging our lives into neat and tidy little boxes with pretty exteriors to hide the things that we think are ugly. But Nepalese people don’t hide things. They give it to you right in your face. Maybe it’s because they don’t find the human condition ugly, unlovable, or unworthy.

Perhaps they actually find it beautiful.

After a full week in this country, I think it actually is. So far everything that I’ve experienced has been intense and raw, and very beautiful at the same time.

For example, the people here are amazing. The Nepali people are the nicest and kindest group of people that I have ever met. And when they smile (which is often), their faces light up. It’s as if light actually emanates from with inside them. Several times, I’ve found myself stunned by intense raw happiness that they were sharing with me.

I’ve also felt intense gratitude from the Nepali people. The living conditions here are very poor. I’m hoping to improve things by working with ten other Habitat volunteers to build a simple 300 square foot brick home for a family of six. It’s not much by American standards, but it’s luxurious compared to the 120 square foot wooden shack that they currently call home. Every morning, the children from the house and the surrounding village run up to us yelling Namaste! Namaste!" I laugh every time I see this smiling wave of humanity.

The Nepali people are also brutally honest with the so-called "negative emotions" that so many of us try to hide. Just yesterday, I ran across a distraught young woman suffering from post-partum depression. She was bent over in tears, wailing in front of the whole village. I found it difficult to look at her, but I also couldn’t look away. In America, she would have stayed hidden, but in Nepal, she wasn’t ashamed to share her sadness. In a weird way, I think that is beautiful.

Which leads me back to the raw fear that interrupted last night’s card game.

A few minutes after the explosions ended, our group leader Dan returned from the area Habitat for Humanity office with three other members of our group. He told us that Mao terrorists had attacked the Surkhet airport and apparently blew up a helicopter. He tried calming our fears by telling us that the rebels have never targeted tourists or foreigners – only government facilities and police. He said the best thing we could do was to remain indoors for the evening. We spent the rest of the evening nervously playing cards and then went to sleep.

I awoke today to the most brilliant orange sunset I had ever seen. I was happy to see another day, and apparently so were the people of Surkhet. As I walked to the work site, I noticed everyone’s normal morning routine was back in place. Families gathered wood to fuel their stoves, kids scampered off to school, and the obnoxious car horns from the area buses echoed their way throughout the valley.

And as I rounded the dirt road to turn to the work site I noticed the same crowd of kids waiting for our arrival. When they saw our group, they collectively smiled and swarmed us with "Namaste" greetings.

Once again, things were very intense, very raw, and beautiful.

I’m happy to be alive today. And I hope you are too. I’ll give you an update on things sometime next week. Until then, please be well, be present. And Namaste!

Scotty