A Trek Through the Himalayas

[photo by Susan Watt, of Tofino, B.C.]

Remember Chris Lowther, my dreamy-eyed poet friend who lives on a floathouse in Clayoquot Sound? I wrote about her in the fall. She has known and loved Pup since his puppy days and grieved with me at his passing. She came for a visit yesterday, and brought with her a slideshow of amazing photos taken by our friend Susan Watt, also of Tofino, on her trip through Tibet, Nepal and Kashmir.

I sat for a blissful morning, sipping tea and being transported to another time, another land, where perhaps, some other lifetime, I belonged.

I fell in love with this little Tibetan fellow's face, and when Susan offered me my pick of photos, I chose this one. These are the eyes of an Old Soul. I was struck by the scarcity of what the people of that land need to live their lives: it is life stripped down to the essentials. One photo shows a Tibetan kitchen: a two-shelf table with a few aluminum pots, a few aluminum plates. That was it. One woman had a two burner hotplate; she had to connect wires together to ignite it, sparks flying each time. Their stone dwellings perched high atop cliffs, meaning someone had to walk a very long way to  find the day's water and pack it back up the hill.

And, uniformly, on every face, there is a radiance, a deep-welling satisfaction and contentment. Smiling faces, radiating inner joy, faces whose souls have learned what is truly essential in life: the things of the spirit.

Even the sheep in the photos looked radiant. They were smiling, too. Happy to be living in Tibet and Nepal, and not headed for the "factory farms" and cruel slaughterhouses of the West.

[That's Susan in the back, with black shirt and sunglasses.]

Susan is now on a mission. On her travels, she visited an orphanage in Nepal, where she learned that for three thousand North American dollars, its 21 orphans could be put through school for one year, including the cost of uniforms, fees and books. She intends to hold a slide-show and dinner event, to raise funds for this purpose.

I asked her if I might post about it here, as one never knows where or who  these words will reach. At the very least, reading about this is a lift of the heartstrings, a moment of hope, and a reminder to us here in North America, surrounded by and choking in the grip of all of our Stuff, that there are fellow humans in Lhasa, on the cliffsides of Nepal, and all through the Himalayas, who live a stripped-down and scarce material existence, but who are richer in spirit than we can begin to imagine.

And also that one person, seeing a need and addressing it, can make significant changes in this world. Bravo, Susan!!

Anyone wishing to contribute towards the education of these orphans, may contact Susan at susanrwatt@yahoo.ca

Namaste:)

The Orphans of Addis Ababa

[I am reading There Is No Me Without You, by Melissa Fay Greene, about the heroic struggle of a tired grandmother called Haregewoin Teferra to care for the orphans brought to her small compound. Life, reduced to the most basic, where giving up is not an option.]

"Allah, Allah,"
comes the morning chant
from the Grand Mosque
and, from their blankets
emerge
the weary orphans
of Addis Ababa,
as they
prepare
to face another day
among the living.

The dispossessed
of the earth
make their cooking fires
as the sun rises
above the steep
mosque spires.
Donkey hoofbeats clop,
a rooster's cries
pierce the air,
while the children's
hungry eyes,
still too hopeful
for despair,
remember
those they love
who are
no longer
there.

What will
this continent
of hungry orphans
eat today?
As we enjoy
a second cup of coffee,
the comfortable knowledge
that we will eat
later this same day,
little Mintesinot,
Prince of the street
of paupers,
leaves the marked-off
square of earth
under his feet
where he was lying
for the four years
since his birth,
the piece of earth
where his mother died
and his father now lies
dying.

He is moving
to a shack
where 60 other orphans
are living
with a tired but
indomitable
Grandmother
who keeps on
giving
because someone
has to feed the children
whose families
are dying,
so she is
trying.

Little Mintesinot,
young Prince
of the barren roadway,
one of 13 million
(say this number slowly)
orphaned by AIDS,
a number so large,
our minds do not engage,
cannot process
it wholly.
What this means:
one small child
13 million times,
alone and scared
and hungry,
with no parents,
with no prospects,
with no dreams.

"Allah, Allah"
the chant continues,
on the air,
rising
on the wafting smoke,
a prayer
of faith and hope and need
so true and clear,
it hopefully finds its way
straight
to Allah's
ear.
But it's the world
of humans
who can help
who most
need to hear.