Amidst the Majesty and the Tragedy

It keeps escaping me that I’m actually in Nepal. I go about my daily routines; eating, playing with the kids, reading, ect. But then I run into a sight (like the acres of terraced rice fields that lay just a short walk from Ama Ghar), a smell (incense, sewage, curries and spices), a taste (I swear that the other night I ate this curried tomato that somehow embodied the entirety of Nepal), a sound (the nightly chorus of street dogs howling their sorrowful songs for all to hear), and BAMM!! I’m suddenly hit with the overwhelming truth that I’m here, in Nepal. I feel my heart racing, I’m short of breath, excitement and fear races through my veins and I’m speechless in the majesty or tragedy of it all. Then, as quickly as it came, the sensation slips away again.

The Majesty. Nepal is truly an amazing place. Green mountains rising high above the vibrant city of Kathmandu, women dressed in a myriad of colorful saris, cows lazily strolling down the dirt lane, the taste of my daily dinner of Dahl Bhat (lentils, rice, and curried vegetables), the beaming faces of my beautiful Ama Ghar children. I understand why so many people love Nepal. How could they not with such amazing views, wonderful tastes, and friendly smiling people?

The Tragedy. There is another side to Nepal. A filthy, putrid, sorrowful side that no matter how hard you try, it cannot be shut out. I want to keep an accurate description of everything that I encounter during my two months here, both the good and the bad. So here it goes…
I ventured into Kathmandu yesterday; my first real trip into the city. I don’t even know how to describe my day. I’ve written and rewritten this part, and none of my words seem to do the city justice. So I will simply say that I have never felt more helpless or more hopeless in my entire life. The poverty level is staggering. Already I felt out of my element, stumbling through the CHAOTIC masses of cars, scooters, and people. The air is muggy and with each breath I could feel the pollution savagely tearing down my throat and brutally ripping apart my lungs. The stench is overwhelming. The trash strike continues, and the garbage piles have now formed into miniature Himalayan Mountains. Three little boys approached me, begging for some spare change. They couldn’t have been older than 6. Their feet were bare, their cloths were filthy, and tiny hands were desperately clawing at my clothing. But it was their eyes that made my knee’s go weak. Their sorrowful gaze that tore me down to nothing. I know that there is no point in giving them any money. The lords of these street children hoard all of their profits. Usually the kids don’t see even a single cent. But it killed me, never the less, to have to turn a cold shoulder like that. As I ripped myself away from their hungry eyes, I left nothing but my broken heart in their empty tin cups.
I am an Idaho girl through and through. I love the serenity of my mountain town, the fresh clean air, the beauty of the environment that surrounds me. I’ve done my fare share of traveling, but I’ve always stayed in developed countries, never venturing beyond the safe boundaries of the Western world.
Now I realize that I’ve lived my entire life with a blindfold on; completely ignorant to the poverty that is raping the larger portion of humanity.
The fever came at some point during my day in Kathmandu. Nausea, despair, anguish. I thought that I was stronger. I thought that I was prepared to see this. I’ve watched documentaries, I’ve read books. This is why I’m here, after all, because I want to help people, because I want to make the world a better place.
But as I stood there amidst the horns, trash, mobs of people, and the poverty, I lost hold the wall I had built up. It was too much for me to take in. Dogs lying dead in the trash heaps. Pollution so thick I could practically see it. The stench of decay and death seeping into my skin, my nose, my mouth. The street children moving for person to person, time after time being swatted away as if they were just another piece of trash. A Nepali woman, newborn baby clinging to her breast, who latched onto me with pitiful eyes, repeating in Nepalese “Help me sister, please.”

Thankfully McKenzie was there. She saw the color drain from my face and quickly found me a trash free spot to sit. She asked me if I was ok, and when I tried to answer her, I was shocked by the voice that came out of my mouth. It was weak and shaky. I tried again, but no matter how hard I strained, I couldn’t get that tremor out of my voice. Even when I was safely curled up in my bed hours later, the tragedy of the city still haunted me, the fever making me relive everything in nightmarish detail.

Despite all of this, I know I have to go back into the city. As much as I’d like to, I can’t stay locked up in my wonderful Ama Ghar haven. I’ve been blind for far to long. It’s time I open up my eyes and actually see, no matter how much distress it will cause me. The poverty is a huge part of Nepal. I need to see it, to experience it, in order to truly appreciate why I’m here. The majesty and the tragedy of it all. Somehow the two seem to go hand in hand in this foreign land. I need to learn to embrace them both. That is why I’m here after all. To help. To bring about change. The kids at the Ama Ghar orphanage were once like those three street boys who approached me. The girls at the Little Sisters Fund would have had a similar fate if not for the kindness of foreign sponsors, like all of you. Once again, I need to express my gratitude to everyone who donated money to my cause. After seeing the poverty that ravages this country, I’ve realized how much our money will do for these children. It will buy books, uniforms, and food for both the Ama Ghar kids and a Little Sister to enable them to stay in school and help further the development of a nation through the education of its youth.

The tragedy. That I cannot take every single little street child into my arms and give them all the lives that they deserve.

The majesty. The generosity and love from foreign strangers, from all of you, to help better the lives of the Nepali children forever. And that is something, even after all of the magnificent things that I’ve seen throughout my life, that truly leaves me in awe.