105. Ticket booked.

Oh dear.  This is a far cry from my ecstatic post some months ago when I booked my tickets here.  I’ve booked my overnight bus out of here to Rishikesh for 28 April and I do not want to go.  I love my life here and would happily stay forever.  But it would be silly not to spend the last 3 weeks in the Himalayas – that was the reason for coming in the first place, although that all seems like another life.

I am so excited about the developments at Contact and as the new stories come online its wonderful to feel I have made a contribution and not just “babysat” the magazine before handing over to the next volunteer.  Its great getting the stories in – some expertly written and emailed, some downloaded onto my memory stick because they have no email, some beautifully handwritten and some literally scribbled onto any bit of paper available, in one case an opened out brown paper bag.  But what stories!  A Japanese person concerned about the way his country is going, an ex-political prisoner making extraordinarily forgiving comments about his jailors, a boy bewailing the Chinese massacre of the trees in his homeland, a child vomiting in fear while hiding from Chinese soldiers at the Nepalese border…………….don’t worry you’ll get the link when they go live, very soon.

And what a week I have had!  I went back to the village up in the mountains where Claire and I took pictures of the family, this time taking them prints of the wonderful dressing up session and it was lovely to see them again.  Because my companions were men this time, 2 men appeared to chaperone us, but stayed well out of the way (as did my companions).  It was girl time, most definitely and I was warmly invited to come back the next day to a birthday party, although sadly was not free. 

And the next day my visit to the tent city – I really cannot begin to describe it in any way that  would make sense, but that family was truly lovely, with that inner contentment, extraordinary though it may sound, that makes people comfortable to be with, and making it a pleasure to share time with them.  I was not treated like a rich white memsahib coming to inspect the poor, I was treated like a fellow human being, a fellow woman, given tea and food and affection and warmly invited to return.  The mother of the boy my acquaintance is sponsoring asked me to thank his sponsor.  There was such a quiet dignity about this beautiful woman who scours garbage dumps for things to sell for a living.  The "village" where they live is a happy place with the sounds of children playing and people busy getting on with their lives.  It was a happy time and all smiles while we were there, but the return journey found me sitting at the side of the road, bawling my eyes out and not even sure where I was.  Thank goodness for the lovely Katty who came with me and shared it all, it makes it easier to cope with even if I will never make sense of it.