A selection of some of the other masks I bought
March 13, 2005
Life
There wasn’t a great deal of time for extra-curricular activities in this, the final week before my exams started for the children. What little time I had was devoted to the hunting of antique, hand-carved masks for my good friend, Uncle Al, back in Harrogate. He’d given me a crash course (via e-mail) on identifying authentic and replica masks, in the hope that I’d be able to pick him up some Billy Bargains to add to his (already extensive) collection. Once I’d learnt to identify the real thing, I must admit I was hooked and found myself arrested by the sight of masks adorning the many shopfronts surrounding the Bouddha Stupa. With my borrowed knowledge from Uncle Al, I was able to impress the proprietors who were obviously used to dealing with your average ignorant tourist. As well as honing my mask-hunting skills, I soon became adept at the local style of haggling – and, before I knew it, I was the proud owner of 10 fine Nepali and Bhutanese masks for Al and myself. With Don’s imminent arrival the next Thursday, I’d already planned to get the majority of them home safe before I even left Kathmandu.
On Saturday – after a particularly satisfying set of purchases – I was able to sit down in the tranquil quiet of the Lotus Guesthouse’s gardens in order to write the listening comprehensions and develop the role play scenarios for the children’s oral exams. After a hard afternoon’s graft I wandered into Thamel and decided to pay a visit to a chap called Santosh who ran an establishment called the Lotus Gallery. Some of you may recall that my friend, Crazy Bill, had rhapsodised about chicken tandoori and butter naan on the floor of a friend’s gallery in Kathmandu…well Santosh was this friend and Lotus was that same gallery. I had popped my head in during my first week in Kathmandu to say hi from Bill and had been unable to come back since, after moving to Bouddha to be nearer to school. Santosh was pleased to see me and insisted that I sit down and join him for a cup of tea while I found my eye drawn towards the beautiful selection of traditional arts covering his walls. One painting in particular – a beautiful thanka (religious art, traditionally hand-painted on cotton) of the Hindu God, Ganesh – caught my eye and I was crestfallen to discover that it was over $200, even to a friend of Bill’s. Art definitely hadn’t been among the things I’d envisaged picking up on my travels, especially high-end stuff like this and I quickly put the idea out of my mind. I spent a pleasant half-hour nattering with Santosh and swapping tales of Bill’s escapades and I promised to return with the laptop sometime to show him photos of the places Bill and I saw in Laos. After this pleasant interlude, I met Michael for a couple of quiet beers in Tom & Jerry’s before heading back to Bouddha for an early night in preparation for exam week.
On Saturday – after a particularly satisfying set of purchases – I was able to sit down in the tranquil quiet of the Lotus Guesthouse’s gardens in order to write the listening comprehensions and develop the role play scenarios for the children’s oral exams. After a hard afternoon’s graft I wandered into Thamel and decided to pay a visit to a chap called Santosh who ran an establishment called the Lotus Gallery. Some of you may recall that my friend, Crazy Bill, had rhapsodised about chicken tandoori and butter naan on the floor of a friend’s gallery in Kathmandu…well Santosh was this friend and Lotus was that same gallery. I had popped my head in during my first week in Kathmandu to say hi from Bill and had been unable to come back since, after moving to Bouddha to be nearer to school. Santosh was pleased to see me and insisted that I sit down and join him for a cup of tea while I found my eye drawn towards the beautiful selection of traditional arts covering his walls. One painting in particular – a beautiful thanka (religious art, traditionally hand-painted on cotton) of the Hindu God, Ganesh – caught my eye and I was crestfallen to discover that it was over $200, even to a friend of Bill’s. Art definitely hadn’t been among the things I’d envisaged picking up on my travels, especially high-end stuff like this and I quickly put the idea out of my mind. I spent a pleasant half-hour nattering with Santosh and swapping tales of Bill’s escapades and I promised to return with the laptop sometime to show him photos of the places Bill and I saw in Laos. After this pleasant interlude, I met Michael for a couple of quiet beers in Tom & Jerry’s before heading back to Bouddha for an early night in preparation for exam week.
Class 4A 15:30 - 16:15
As a class, it would be easy to take 4A for a ‘right little bunch of bastards’ – to borrow a phrase from a former teacher of mine – but this would be extremely unfair on the vast majority of the kids in the class. There were some very sweet, well-behaved girls who unfortunately had enough on their plate putting up with the disruption, slowness and general apathy of their less industrious classmates – and it was for them that I always made sure to enter the classroom with a smile on my face and the best of intentions in my mind.
More often than not, the smile would be gone within 10 minutes after I’d already had to tell them to shut up or stop beating several times. The class’s two big problems were that most of the boys were none too bright, nor motivated and the bunch of older girls at the back of the room were just too cool for school – consequently the class lacked leadership. Unlike my other classes, the bright, nice kids in 4A were not possessed of particularly strong personalities and, as such, could do nothing but sit their in resigned silence while these other kids made trouble. The one girl, Manjita, who was both bright enough and strong-willed enough to be a leader, was probably the most unpleasant kid in any of my classes. She had a nasty, spiteful tongue that was unleashed on all and sundry with little reason or warning at frequent intervals. She thought nothing of grassing up her ‘friends’ or laughing when people couldn’t answer a question (usually shortly before crowing it for everyone to hear without being asked) and I’d seen several of the other girls reduced to tears on a number of occasions.
Every cloud has a silver lining and, as I’ve already mentioned, some of my more difficult students from this class gave me cause for real enjoyment in the after-school extra lessons. On top of this the better-behaved kids like Dolma, Ang Doma, Maya and Hena (girls) as well as Chitiz and Kuldos (boys) tried their very best to make up for their errant classmates so I never really lost my rag with them completely. It seemed a little unfair that these kids had to put up with the rest and I was hopeful that the good and bad elements of 4A and 4B might be better matched the following year…although I can only imagine the kind of hellish class this type of tampering might produce. All I can say is that I was always relieved when the bell went to signify the end of my lesson with this lot.
More often than not, the smile would be gone within 10 minutes after I’d already had to tell them to shut up or stop beating several times. The class’s two big problems were that most of the boys were none too bright, nor motivated and the bunch of older girls at the back of the room were just too cool for school – consequently the class lacked leadership. Unlike my other classes, the bright, nice kids in 4A were not possessed of particularly strong personalities and, as such, could do nothing but sit their in resigned silence while these other kids made trouble. The one girl, Manjita, who was both bright enough and strong-willed enough to be a leader, was probably the most unpleasant kid in any of my classes. She had a nasty, spiteful tongue that was unleashed on all and sundry with little reason or warning at frequent intervals. She thought nothing of grassing up her ‘friends’ or laughing when people couldn’t answer a question (usually shortly before crowing it for everyone to hear without being asked) and I’d seen several of the other girls reduced to tears on a number of occasions.
Every cloud has a silver lining and, as I’ve already mentioned, some of my more difficult students from this class gave me cause for real enjoyment in the after-school extra lessons. On top of this the better-behaved kids like Dolma, Ang Doma, Maya and Hena (girls) as well as Chitiz and Kuldos (boys) tried their very best to make up for their errant classmates so I never really lost my rag with them completely. It seemed a little unfair that these kids had to put up with the rest and I was hopeful that the good and bad elements of 4A and 4B might be better matched the following year…although I can only imagine the kind of hellish class this type of tampering might produce. All I can say is that I was always relieved when the bell went to signify the end of my lesson with this lot.
Playing the PR game
After 5 weeks I’d grown used to having the kids to myself. When Michael first arrived, and before he was given a timetable, he shadowed me for a few lessons. I found myself getting intensely jealous of the interest the kids took in him…these were my kids…they were supposed to love me! Of course, in the end, I was just proud of them as they asked him all kinds of questions in perfect English and I could see Michael warming to them straight away. For the rest of term I had to put up with playful taunts from my class 6 girls as they pretended to be itching to have Michael as their teacher. I think when you invest time and energy in anybody there’s a natural reaction of not wanting to let them go too easily. Fortunately, having Michael around for all that time before I left demonstrated that I’d be leaving the kids in capable hands and that was, in the end, preferable to leaving them with some faceless stranger.
Much as I’d been a useful PR pawn at the Saraswati Puja in my early days at the school, Michael found himself pushed immediately into the fray as we were both dragged along to the ceremonial blessing of the foundation stones at the site of the new school in Bhaktapur. This momentous occasion was of great significance to Uttam – finally being able to take the first steps towards the next stage of his dream after 5 years of getting the Kathmandu school up and running – and he was determined to get as much positive coverage as possible. Having Michael and I there to represent the schools much-vaunted involvement with foreign volunteers was an absolute must. Despite our driver taking a wrong turning (fortunately, after my previous visit to Bhaktapur, I had a rough idea of the site of the school and was able to set us straight) and dropping us off late, the ceremony went off without a hitch and the 2 dozen brightly dressed pupils who’d come to take part, were considered photogenic enough to make the front page of the national dailies the following day. On top of this, the editor of the Kathmandu post, used Uttam as a shining example in an editorial about the disparities in education for girls and children of poor socio-economic backgrounds. While I wouldn’t wish to be identified as a media whore, it really did feel exciting to be even a small part of something so relevant and important as Uttam’s vision. When I read that editorial my heart swelled with pride for the man who, frankly, deserves all the recognition he can get…particularly if it helps him to achieve his aims.
Much as I’d been a useful PR pawn at the Saraswati Puja in my early days at the school, Michael found himself pushed immediately into the fray as we were both dragged along to the ceremonial blessing of the foundation stones at the site of the new school in Bhaktapur. This momentous occasion was of great significance to Uttam – finally being able to take the first steps towards the next stage of his dream after 5 years of getting the Kathmandu school up and running – and he was determined to get as much positive coverage as possible. Having Michael and I there to represent the schools much-vaunted involvement with foreign volunteers was an absolute must. Despite our driver taking a wrong turning (fortunately, after my previous visit to Bhaktapur, I had a rough idea of the site of the school and was able to set us straight) and dropping us off late, the ceremony went off without a hitch and the 2 dozen brightly dressed pupils who’d come to take part, were considered photogenic enough to make the front page of the national dailies the following day. On top of this, the editor of the Kathmandu post, used Uttam as a shining example in an editorial about the disparities in education for girls and children of poor socio-economic backgrounds. While I wouldn’t wish to be identified as a media whore, it really did feel exciting to be even a small part of something so relevant and important as Uttam’s vision. When I read that editorial my heart swelled with pride for the man who, frankly, deserves all the recognition he can get…particularly if it helps him to achieve his aims.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)