The Great Kingdom of Nepal
Part 2 Two - Rafting
by Myrna James
BACK TO TOWN -- A FEW DAYS IN POKHARA
I returned to Pokhara after the trek for a few days of relaxation in "civilization" before leaving on the pre-paid five-day rafting trip. My first guesthouse, the New Solitary Lodge, was run by the nicest people. They were a young family with two small children. As I was watching one of the old Butch Cassidy and Sundance movies in the tiny lobby, the mother shyly asked about my life. We are the same age, and she was amazed at the fact that I could choose so many things about my life. She was happy, but we marveled at how different our lives were, with her arranged marriage, children, family business and Buddhism. In contrast, I am single, worked full-time for ten years, lived in Chicago, the city of my choice, have chosen to travel for a year, and am learning about different religions. (Like in many homes and public places, the family had a shrine to His Holiness the Dali Lama, with the ubiquitous photo of him in the maroon robe and black horn-rimmed glasses. They demonstrated their idolatry with offerings of water, rice and dried flowers surrounding the photo.)
As we chatted, I got the feeling that she would have traded places with me, if she could. Surprising even myself, I would have considered trading places with her! There is such charm in their simple life, and I even think that arranged marriages can work as well as our western tradition of choosing mates, given the horrible divorce rates in America. (This is also from a long discussion I had with an Indian woman, also my age, a teacher in New Delhi, whom I met on a plane on her honeymoon.) We western women have so many choices that our lives are more complicated. And those choices do not make us happier, really happier than earlier generations in America, or this generation in Nepal. My generation is really the first to have virtual equality with men in the workplace, and some women are working so hard, they don't have time for families. They may say honestly that this is by choice, and that they get satisfaction from work. I have said this many times, until now. But I want to simplify my life, focus less on work, strive for balance, and pay more attention to personal relationships. It sounds a bit like this gentle woman's life, doesn't it?
At the suggestion of a British doctor who worked there, I visited the Green Pastures Leprosy Hospital. It was interesting just finding the place on a rented bike! I know I have never seen an accurate map of this town. It is spread out, all dirt unpaved roads with potholes and lots of repair work seemingly halted mid-project. The road along the lake is packed with tourist storefronts on both sides, actually obscuring the view of the lake, sadly. The small stores offer trekking gear, bottled water and soap, and there are random restaurants and bars. The bus station is the busiest part of town, and the airport is a good landmark. We just had to figure out how to get beyond it and across the river.
Once we found it, the hospital was an amazing place. They are dealing with a disease that has been virtually eradicated in the western world. Many remote villages still have leprosy problems and the people don't know what it is until it's too late. Then they are permanently disabled, though they get treatment once they are diagnosed. We met many patients, who were friendly and mostly smiling. One was a man in his early 20's who willingly showed us his hands, which were recovering from surgery. He was grinning at us constantly, appearing again and again during our tour. The main donor to this treatment center is the German Leprosy Relief Association, which is dedicated to the eradication of leprosy as a public health problem. The hospital is now seeking funds for the battle against disability, dehabilitation and stigmatization due to leprosy and other causes in Nepal, as they can serve patients with other physical disabilities with the proper funding. More information is available from the Medical Superintendent, Green Pastures Hospital, POB 28, Pokhara, Nepal. The phone is 061-20342.
WHITE-WATER RAFTING IN THE KALI GANDAKI
KALI GANDAKI is a holy river named after the Goddess Kali. It comes from the Mustang Himal, using the deepest ravine in the world, between the Annapurna massif and Dhaulagiri. We took a bus a few hours to the "put-in" spot at Nayapul, which was in the same area where I started and ended my trek! We stayed at peaceful beach camps, saw remote villages and shrines, a few Himalayan peaks, and an abandoned palace along the riverbank. These things, along with the local river guides from Himalayan Encounters, make rafting in Nepal a unique experience.
The rapids are grades III-IV+ and provided lots of excitement for my first rafting trip. Ten tourists and four Nepali guides were in our group, in two rafts and a "hospital boat," which is the oar boat full of supplies. When Pushpa, as expedition leader, told us to divide into rafts I immediately jumped into his raft. He was so charismatic! And our raft was great: Luke, an American Peace Corps volunteer on his way home from Fiji (taking "the long way home"), Selene, an Italian gal traveling with Austin, another young strapping handsome American like Luke, and Stephan from Germany.
Like much of westerners' times in Nepal, this trip was overshadowed by many of us being a bit ill, the usual bacteria floating around. The guides did a great job of preparing western food for us, so I don't think that was the problem, though they would then disappear to eat their local rice dish, dal bhat. Being one who enjoys a cold beer now and again, I was very disappointed that I was ill. I was to have shared in the sacred opening of Luke's Jack Daniels bottle as well, but he was sick too. Austin was one who spent some time on the "hospital boat!" Poor chap even missed the post-party in Pokhara!
One of the most memorable times on this trip was the second night, camping out on the grass instead of beach this time, along the rushing river with a cornfield behind, elevated about three feet above us, the corn green, high and ripe. As we were fixing dinner, the storm clouds rolled in and darkness fell early. We were all working, waiting expectantly for the rain that seemed caught high up in the air. We gathered in the "mess tent," where the guides normally ate. Just as we finished eating, the crackling staccato lightning show began, as if scheduled specifically for us, loud and beautiful with the swooshing water of the river providing the refrain between booms. We sipped our tea to keep warm and sat in the candlelight, a small group talking quietly, peacefully. It was that strange weather when it's warm out and you are still barefoot, but you need a big sweater to be cozy, like being on the porch during warm spring rains at home. And the rain was merciful; it never fell upon our campsite that night. We slept under the stars.
An unique and beautiful sight along the river is the abandoned palace at Ranighat, a minuscule cluster of wooden houses with the usual tin roofs held in place by large stones. The palace is called Rani Mahal and was built by an exiled Rama in the 1920's. It is high on a ridge, and is being renovated, as you can see in the photo. We had lunch nearby, and had time to explore the grounds, climbing the many stairs to reach it.
Along the riverbank below this palace is one place where locals mourn their dead by piling rocks on the corpse, then burning it. The Kali Gandaki is a holy river, which is the reason for this custom. We saw two areas where the stones marked graves, and one fire was burning with three or four people attending. There, I wanted to acknowledge the sepulchral situation, in an attempt to not seem the usual impertinent tourist, imposing upon their traditions for the sake of a little fun on a raft with virtual strangers. But I did not know what to do. The mourners often allow the remains of the bodies to float down the river. Somehow it seemed natural, in this environment, to sometimes be immersed in the same dark swirling water as these Nepali remains. It honestly didn't bother me at all. It is a natural part of the cycle of life here.
The last day, we were heading for the biggest rapid of the trip, aptly named "Walk in the Dark." We first took photos of the other raft, which had a pretty mellow time of it. Then they were all set with our cameras. As we headed toward the rapid, I was in the front right of the raft. We were all ready and waiting, floating. I loved hearing Pushpa's voice, so loud and clear above the rushing tumid water, commanding "Back Paddle!" then "Forward Hard! Forward Hard" as we attempted to gain enough momentum to stay atop the rapids and surmount the crest. With Pushpa's guidance, we were headed straight for the highest waves I have ever seen! We were all paddling furiously, but we didn't have Austin to help and half my strokes didn't catch any water; my side of the raft was too high off the surface in the raging water. I knew we wouldn't make it when in an instant I saw this wall of water right in front of me, and the left front of the raft climbed that wall, up and up the wave, until the raft was folded almost in half and then was up over my head as we flipped!
I just had time to gasp a breath before I was totally immersed, holding tightly to my paddle, determined not to lose it. Thinking quite rationally, I curled up in a ball so my lifejacket would pop me to the surface more quickly. Underwater I had no sense of direction or depth, my eyes were tightly closed, and I was worried about coming up under the raft. But I came up with my paddle and saw my own water bottle with orange drink floating right next to me! I grabbed it (good drinking water being a precious commodity) and my sunglasses, which were dangerously dangling, and was torn away and on down the river. I was sucked under a few times and swallowed some nasty river water, and choking, got bashed into a few shallow rocks, then recalled how to float along safely on my back. Once I had my feet sticking out in front to protect my body from the rocks, it wasn't so bad, and I began to take inventory of my fellow rafters. We were all floating toward the hospital boat, except Pushpa and Stephan. I kept saying, "Where's Stephan?" knowing Pushpa was probably with the raft. Stephan had gone straight for the bank, thus was behind us. The other raft never did flip, and may have actually avoided the most exciting rapids during our five day, 110 km (68 mile) journey down this holy river.
This was one of the final rafting trips on the Kali Gandaki, as the river will be dammed soon. We floated quietly and sadly by the construction site, gazing up at the filthy trucks and displaced earth. I knew that it was, like many things in life, necessary for the modernization of life here, but at a great expense. These areas have been natural and without modern conveniences like phones and electricity for so long, you have to wonder if the villagers want the changes, or if westernization is being forced upon them by outsiders. These "advancements" would seem to ultimately diminish the inherent charm and simple values of their lives.
Perhaps the most significant reason for travelers' falling in love with Nepal, for the serene smile one gets remembering time spent there, is this sense of remoteness and freedom, being completely cut off from the unnecessary pressure we feel to make more money, only to spend more money, in the west. "One is aware of man being free here, at the deepest level, as he cannot possibly be in societies where elaborately contrived pressures daily create new, false 'needs', and wither his delight in small and simple joys," as Dervla Murphy puts it. One of the things I hope to take with me from this time in Nepal is the ability to relish the simple things in life, as the mountain people do.
Pushpa is one who sees the westernization of Nepal as an extraordinary thing; he is personally benefiting from the situation by proudly working in the tourism industry, which is greatly responsible for the changes here. Tourists insist on phones being available, as well as electricity and western-style food. He is from the village of Dharan in eastern Nepal. It is a place known for violence. In fact, he has a two-inch scar on his cheek, but told me what he jokingly tells all the tourists, that it was from a tiger in Chitwan, the National Park in Nepal. He said that Nepali's in Kathmandu must be off the streets by 10:00 or 11:00, or they are questioned. When the police find out he is from Dharan he is even more suspect. He is one of the lucky ones to escape from his village and make a living elsewhere. So I suppose you cannot blame him, but it saddens me somehow.
The lives of the people in the mountains, such as those in Pushpa's village, are not always charmed. What travelers don't often see is that physical violence lies very close to the surface of their daily lives, and some of the social customs contribute to this. Dervla Murphy wrote: "One woman was accompanied by her self-possessed five-year old son who, feeling a bit peckish, had a long drink from his mother's breast - and then stood up, wiped his mouth, took a cigarette from the pocket of his tattered shift and strolled over to me to request a match." This is still normal life for many in Nepal. I met someone who is the youngest of all boys, and he was breast-fed until he was six years old. His mother allowed this until she set herself on fire. Her husband had openly had a mistress for years, which is certainly the norm and supposedly socially acceptable in Nepal, as in many Asian cultures. However, his wife was not happy with the situation and took this desperate measure to get his attention, successfully. In this case, the man gave up the mistress. And this is the reason that the boy could not breast-feed to the age of seven!
On the surface it seems charmed, simple and wonderful here. But, on reflection, I'm sure I wouldn't trade places with a Nepali woman. It would be trading one set of problems for another. I don't agree with little children smoking and the husbands having the right to mistresses, though it is true that our society has its unique problems as well.
But the exquisite beauty of being me, of being from the western world, is that I do have the freedom to choose my lifestyle. I can take the things I have found here and apply them to my modern life: enjoying the weather, being more self-sufficient, allowing my mind to be free sometimes. I can apply the basic principles of Buddhism, such as living in moderation, being truthful always, and being aware that your actions affect your karma, causing reactions that will make your life better or worse. I can choose to live somewhere more remote than a bustling city, allowing me occasional freedom from worldly pressures, but with modern conveniences like computers and email. I am traveling around the world with my precious Toshiba Libretto 50CT, for heaven's sake. I could not live without it now!
Though I will not live there, Nepal has captured a part of my foreign heart. I will return to this complex and joyous place, to trek Mt. Everest, to see Namche Bazaar, the Everest Base Camp, and the prodigious mountain itself. And I must hear "Namaste, didi!" again, from the tiny sweet voices of the Nepali children, as they see me pass by on the trails. It means "I see the God in you, big sister" . . . and I certainly see the God in them.
Myrna left the professional world of national magazine ad sales in Chicago to travel around the world! She sought eternal truths and true beauty, and found them. She left in January 1998, going to Australia, New Zealand, around Asia (Japan, China) then to Thailand and Nepal. The rest of the year was in Europe, mostly Turkey. She returned in December, then left again for five more months to do Habitat for Humanity Global Village in New Zealand and Alaska in 1999. She now resides in Denver, Colorado, near her hometown of Hoxie, Kansas.
You can visit Myrna's web site at www.GoGlobalGirl.com, and email Myrna at mljames@attglobal.net
