gerburgkamm

Not a tombstone

This is the UNESCO sign of World Heritage

Is it actually possible to fall in love with a city, once, on one day only, and to find it utterly changed years later, after a huge hand (of a trickster, maybe?) had swept over it scattering its fine artistic components, destroying its harmony, its order, its beauty, its heritage of humankind? And to love it even more then, because you feel in the end, the essence of it all, the essence of her, the beauty of Bhaktapur, still is?

While travelling to Bhaktapur on the usual ramshackle bus over the flooded and muddy road I could feel a lump forming in my throat. I expected the destruction to be worse than in Patan (Lalitpur) and Durbar Square in Kathmandu.

Of course there are ways to get to the historical centre without paying, but the municipality needs the money more than ever

Eleven years ago the people of Bhaktapur talked about two things to me: how the Germans had restored and preserved the historical centre, especially its fish bone paved streets with sewage and water pipes underneath and how in 1993 Bernardo Bertolucci had directed the film Little Buddha here and had generously compensated the population for their help. I appreciated being somehow related to both nationalities.

A haunting silence lies over the historic town

My promise to my Nepali friends to focus on the positive, on what was still in place and standing, was impossible to keep in Bhaktapur. An invisible hand had grabbed my camera and directed it to the worst affected parts.

And the relentless rain makes the overall picture even gloomier

The usual readiness to smile has given way to uneasiness

The wonderful fish bone pavement is still there, even though in most places covered by mud

Can this ever be cleaned away?

once picturesque

What a shock, when a part of one’s flat just breaks off  …

Still habitable? The criteria depend on necessity

unrecognisable

A city on crutches

palace

buildings holding each other in place

a forest worth of wooden beams

for the time being …

Everybody rebuilds as best they can, on their own initiative, there doesn’t seem to be an overall plan

building a provisional shelter,

building up,  without the more secure frame structure, a makeshift solution

a boy doing the hard work of an adult

as I say, the best kids in the world

Bamboo scaffolds, nice work, but again no frame structure

Life goes on

an artist painting patiently his colourful signs, but the customers are missing

doing the laundry with mum

looking pretty

choosing a necklace

dating

flying kites, the kites can’t be seen in the picture. The kids always ask the tourists to buy them spare parts (handmade, the kites break easily)

selling and buying

schools re-opening

Kindergarten promissing good education in hygiene

Abducted by three kids, I ended up at what is probably the only supermarket in the old town. Inside some English speaking Nepalese customers helped me negotiate with the children as to what I was willing to buy for them and what they would have liked me to buy. In the end we all came out quite satisfied. In the picture they look rather earnest but before I pointed my camera at them they beamed with excitment and happiness. Even the cashier girls smiled.

begging for food; I insisted on something healthy to eat and drink

Nepalese tourists taking pictures of their cultural heritage

Mothers taking their children to visit the temples

Mother and daughter in front of a shop

Granny resting from a visit to the temple (I call her granny but she must be younger than me)

Boys will always be …

After half a day of walking around I was not only hungry and soaked from the rain, but my camera had run out of battery. So I went to a nice restaurant at Durbar Square (remember all three towns Kathmandu, Patan and Bhaktapur have a Durbar Square) to eat and to get my camera charged. The place was almost empty, more waiters than customers, just a group of American youngsters, probably volunteers. It was good to sit down and leave the rain outside.

Suddenly a European comes in, elderly man (gee, who am I to talk like that) with a young Asian girl at his side. Maybe he’s her Daddy, oh so sweet! I think. They sit down at the table next to me. The food comes and before starting to eat, I see the girl wipe the cutlery and the dishes with desinfectant tissue.

So I turn toward her, look her in the eyes and tell her: “You mean, you are a sugar daddy’s baby and you are worried about clean dishes (!?!?!?$$?)?”

No, I’m just kidding, I wouldn’t even think of doing a thing like that.

By the time I had eaten a delicious Dal Bhat and some fruit and taken a coffee, and my battery was charged enough to take more pictures, it had stopped raining and the sun had come out. That’s why you see some dry pictures, too.

After lunch I went to look for the little Newari hotel where I had stayed 11 years ago. I didn’t remember its name or address but I found it. The young proprietor had at the time been so nice to keep my luggage after I checked out, so I could go sightseeing without carrying my backpack around. The “Unique Guest House” was still standing and the proprietor, still young, seemed really touched that a former guest had bothered to look him up. He offered a cup of tea and I sat down and we talked. His closer family, he said, was alright, but among more distant relatives and friends some had lost their lives. He didn’t know anyone who didn’t have someone to mourn.

the Unique Guest House

My room 11 years ago, the room on another floor is still inaccessable

Nearby, the famous Peacock Window, a wonderfully carved, wooden window, which I had taken a picture of on my last visit. The proprietor of the shop in front had invited me to go up to the 2nd floor of his house to be able to take a more frontal picture. I remember when going upstairs I met the only two children in the whole of Nepal that didn’t greet, that didn’t say: “Namaste”. They were probably also the only children in Nepal at that time who were playing video games. The family had come through the earthquakes unharmed but the house is uninhabitable.

Peacock Window seen from the ground, the house opposite is not accessible

Homage to uncaring gods

Hanuman

worse than uncaring gods, indifferent people

what remains, the foundation of the temple

one of the many posters of what the temple looked like

some temples gone

some temples standing, in between, tents from the Red Cross of China

Devotion brings about the finest art

Adulation goes on …  anyway …

Good-bye Bhaktapur, it will take time to heal

Snake pond

And all the time throughout my tour I keep thinking of a hand sweeping arbitrarily over a beautiful sand mandala scattering its wonderful shapes into the wind to teach us human beings that all things are ephemeral and nothing lasts forever. But then, this is only true for the outward appearance, the essence, the idea of the colourful mandala, the plan of an amazing town full of life remains.

I know that the people I met 11 years ago are alright and with a couple of hundreds of fotos more in my camera I go back to the turbulent modern age.

Trying to catch the bus back to Kathmandu

Cheers

Gerburg

Activities

Clearly the skills that are needed in a rural environment up in the Himalayas  are different from the skills that are required for earning a living in an urban environment.

men gathering under the big tree to talk and to have company

the women’s handicraft: knitting and crocheting for sale and also for the winter

doing needlework and earning some money makes the women feel better

By the end of my round through the camp the school has filled with kids that play and jump around and laugh and cry, like anywhere else.

he cried until he saw my camera, very interesting thing

cuties

With the money a donor gave me I buy some food, some teaching material and other useful things for the school.

in a small grocery store in Thali

chairs for the teachers who volunteer at the school

Another good thing about the school: the children get a warm meal there.

Before I leave the children greet me with a heartfelt “Namaste”

“Namasteeeeeeee!!!!”

and the singing of the national anthem

It’s time to say good-bye to the camp and to the women’s group.

Rita and the other ladies, you are doing a wonderful job, keep it up

Help will come

When the rains are pouring down at night and the powerful tropical thunderstorms pound the area I think of them and I wish for them not to spend another monsoon season in the camp, not even the winter which is cold at 1300 m of altitude.

Best wishes also to Rita and her women’s group for their community engagement and their support to the needy. For people who would like to help them finish their house here are some details:

A/C Name: Shree Gauri Shanker Nari Sewa Kendra

A/C number: 021 080 101 223 7011

ABA routing # ADBLNPKA

Bank name and address: Krishi Bikas Bank (Agricultural Development Bank LTD)

Jorpati Kathmandu Nepal

Bye – bye  Gerburg

When I went to Thali to look for the Shree Gauri Shanker Nari Sewa Kendra: Shiva and Parvati Women’s Group, it wasn’t easy for me to find them. On an empty space on the town’s edge they were busy building a house for their group, hoeing, shoveling, handling cement. Between laughter and jokes (apparently) they explain to me that they need a place where they can meet and make plans for their social work and their community engagement. Since a place like that doesn’t exist, they are building it.

With bare hands, hoes and a few shovels

With the ground floor already completed they are now trying to go higher, they know they will need more space to put their plans in action. A few rooms will be set aside to host orphans and to help them with their studies at school. Building material and equipment were bought with the women’s own money and to cut expenses they set themselves to work whenever they have time.

A small makeshift altar adorns one corner of the rough cast building.

Could they be Shiva and Parvati?

This little altar is probably there to assure good luck in all the ladies’ activities, is my first thought, but it really serves a more practical purpose: it keeps people from using the unfinished house as a toilet. It’s as simple as that, one doesn’t pee where the gods dwell.

The leader of the group is Rita, an energetic, kindhearted, noticeable woman from the Province of Sindhupalchowk in the North of Nepal.  She got married to a man in Thali, a small town just one hour’s drive from the capital. She now owns a Kindergarten and an Elementary School here and is very active in her community.

Their biggest challenge so far literally descended upon the women’s group after the earthquake when the people from Sindhupalchok arrived and settled on what must have once been the village green where holy cows grazed undisturbed.

Mother and daughter: one the manager, the other the English speaker

As if two earthquakes in a row hadn’t been enough to display the gratuitous wrath of the gods, a landslide had sloshed away what was still standing of the village of Tatopani in the province of Sindhupalchowk not far from the border to (greater) China. The survivors, 220 destitute and traumatized people packed up what little was left of their belongings and headed for a safe place in the Kathmandu valley where they knew someone who would help them. Many of the men from the village are lorry drivers so they used their vehicles to take their families to Thali. They also live in the lorries until enough tents are put up.

Load area of a truck: just a temporary shelter. The trucks don’t belong to the drivers.

With the monsoon rains setting in and the men having to take the lorries back to their employers the tents were needed quickly. Volunteers from Kathmandu tried their best to help. With money coming in from “We help Nepal” and from expatriates they first bought tarpaulins with which they covered simple bamboo structures.

anonymous agglomeration of blue, grey and yellow tents on ever sodden ground

Aabhash, a high school student, is one of the volunteers who still travels regularly from Kathmandu to Thali to help the people (and to work as a translator in case a foreigner comes by).

He leads me through the camp, translates, explains

I meet him at the school/kindergarten, where parents can leave their children for a few hours and where children can play together and learn.

Still empty: the children are at school from 11 a.m. – 3 p.m.

Outside the school a place where people get together, sit down and talk, when the rains stop long enough.

a young woman waiting for the school to open

My guide takes me around the camp. This is how displaced people live and whenever I look at them I can’t help thinking:

“Thank you for smiling at me”

Some families live in regular tents

Newborn babies

A kitchen in one corner of the tent

not without risks

Going for a walk with mum

A family having lunch

Some people keep chickens

chickens in  and outside the cage

chickens in the kitchen

Trying to keep the ever-present moisture at bay: the bottom of the tent has to be lifted off the sodden ground

bamboo poles are getting stuck in the ground, then a plank is put on them

inside a tent attached to a wall

Aabhash tells me about the hardships of life in the camp:

The nearby toilet costs money, so the people have to go to one further away,

pay toilet: that money stinks; and everything has its price

The toilet price: long 10 rupees, short 5 rupees

The laundry is done a couple of hundreds of meters away, downhill where during the monsoon season water is continuously running out of one of those picturesque spouts that you find all over the country (remember the one I took a picture of in Patan?)

muddy feet and muddy sandals

From the big wash basin you see a damaged buddhist monastery that has to be pulled down and rebuilt. Some of the men from the camp have found work there.

Buddhist monastery, now uninhabitable

“Wouldn’t it be more useful to build a big house like that for the displaced people instead of spending all that money on a monastery?” my guide asks after a moment of pensive silence.

Then he slowly starts telling me about the people in the camp, how modest they were when they first arrived, content to have a safe place to stay, not wanting to ask for, not wanting to take anything from anyone. They were destitute, traumatized, one woman becoming anorexic, a child getting burnt by hot cooking oil and her parents being able to afford only traditional treatment (ghee), one woman not changing her clothes for a month being too shy to accept offerings, another woman suffering from postpartum psychosis (on top of all the hardship, she had been scolded by her husband for having given birth to a baby girl), parents of a child with special needs in education not being able to afford school in the new environment, parents of other children not being able to afford the school uniform and fees in the local schools. The people from Tatopani didn’t expect help, they kept saying, they had everything, they were just grateful for a safe place to stay. But the volunteers were aware of their difficulties and helped.

And Rita’s women’s group got active. They opened a school for all the children and then tried to place the elder ones in local schools for free, as a contribution from the school to a disaster that had hit the whole nation. They got hold of a wheel chair for the old man.

an old man with hemiplegia after a stroke

every day he gets a ride on his wheelchair

Follow up: The Camp 2

A BREAK FROM THE ORDINARY

In Kathmandu, in Pokhara, in Patan, anywhere in Nepal, anywhere in the world,

kids want to work out and meet friends,

do things together, have fun,

they love music, hip hop, funk,

the rhythm gets in their feet,

they move to the beat, they dance, they break

“Breakdance has been introduced in Nepal only six years ago, but Nepalese b-boys and b-girls can easily stand comparison with break dancers in Europe, where we have been practicing it for over 30 years now,” says Cristian, a top break dancer from Italy.

He has come to Nepal to meet young people who share his passion, to get inspiration and to inspire, to learn new moves and styles and to share his long time experience. Breakdance for him is not just a sport or a hobby, it is a way of life. He has travelled a lot to meet breakdance groups all over the world, in South America, in other parts of Asia. Wherever he goes, getting together with his fellow break dancers is like visiting family. Travelling with him is an idea: breakdancing is not an end in itself, b-boy and b-girl groups which become socially envolved can make a difference in this world. He is one of the co-founders of  wedoWE (http://www.wedowe.org) an organisation that helps groups go ahead with their projects.

After a warm welcome Cristian is invited to participate as a member of the jury in the 2015 Nepalese Breakdance Competition organised by the Everest Crew on August 8 in Patan (Lalitpur).

The first thing that strikes him in Nepalese youths is their motivation and their sense of sacrifice.

“They have travelled for more than 14 hours on busses coming from remote parts in Nepal and even from India,” Cristian says in admiration, “they payed their participation fee, 300 rupees, which may not seem a lot to us but for them it is.”

The event is well planned with the organizers having advanced their own money for the rent of the location risking not to break even in the end.

participants paying their fee

When the b-boys and b-girls first arrive they are too shy to practice their stunts so Cristian goes ahead to break the ice.

the onlookers are impressed

After a while

under the scorching sun the “warming up” starts

Waiting for the festival to begin

The youngest are 12 and 13 years old

They are disciplined, calm.

The excitment is in the air filled with the stomping beat of the music.

Finally the show starts

one of the organisers opening the event

 Cristian’s difficult task as a juror or (as they say) as a judge begins.

Competition is tough, the dancers are really good and the judges have to look on and concentrate for hours. Cristian is impressed by the seriousness and the commitment these young people demonstrate.

The competitors

their sense of equilibrium

their fastness

their flexibility

their strength

their courage

they are cool

they are winners

In a gym in Kathmandu: b-boys and b-girls practising together.

Togetherness, that’s what it is about, and many more things …

it’s about self-esteem

it’s about tenacity and creativity

it’s about freedom

Their breakdance group gives b-boys and b-girls a sense of belonging.

Class, ethnic or religious affiliation don’t count.

friends beyond borders

positive leaders

It gives them role models

their motto: say no to drugs and violence

They find someone they are willing to listen to and who listens to them

advice and encouragement 

And Nepalese b-boys and b-girls have plans for the future: they want to work for the benefit of their community. They feel lucky because they have found something that they enjoy and that helps them grow up to become self-confident, successful adults. Now they want to share their passion and their experience with other youngsters. They want to go out and teach street kids to dance, they want them to have fun and to have something meaningful to do. This way the breakdancers hope to help them stay away from drugs and other bad influences.

We wish them luck!

 Contacts:

Everest Crew: facebook Everest Crew

Telephone number: organiser Arbin Thapa +977 9849197554

For more info or to get in touch:

http://l.facebook.com/l/IAQGIrBjGAQGr7h9NIuOn_2zDGoQpwxc5RvIK_t4GkyDWew/www.wedowe.org

twitter @CriBoscheri

facebook: breakingandimpact: https://www.facebook.com/groups/breakingandimpact/?fref=ts

Approaching Durbar Square through crowded alleyways with small shops and workshops, full of busy buyers and vendors, colourfully clad women, begging children.

Whatever you are looking for, you’ll find it

First thing you see from far away is: Talleju Temple, one of the most extraordinary examples of Newari craftsmanship.

a sigh of relief, the heart is there but is it beating?

Foreigners pay the entrance fee, the city needs the money more than ever, but from the Tourism Board you can get a ticket for as long as you stay in Nepal, just bring a foto and your passport.

It’s gods against all odds

lucky temple

Worship is part of everyday life

Praying

Kal Bhairav, can there be mercy?

Where zillions of visitors, local and from abroad, were taking pictures, listening to guides in all languages the square is now abandoned.

stray dogs have taken the place of visitors

Many temples are inaccessable

the red sign says: restricted area

or totally gone

Vishnu, preserver, protector, did you do that to your own temple?

Saddhus used to sit on the big steps

Reconstruction – resignation – helplessness

You see neatly piled up bricks and signboards that show what the buildings or pillars looked like before the earthquake.

woman trying to get by selling pigeon food

woman with prayer chain

Reconstruction work at the Hanuman Dhoka, the Royal Palace, once a wonderful Museum: scaffolding made of metal tubes not of bamboo, as usual. For the workers: insufficient safety measures.

workers risking

intentions to work on the royal palace

The monsoon doesn’t help!

 follow the tour lane?

What’s left? For one thing the questionable tradition of having a Kumari, a very young girl revered as a living goddess. (for information, see Internet and Wiki!).

The window where she appears at 4 p. m.

clearly: no photos, you gotta respect the culture! …  what can be done in the name of culture?

strictly prohibited to take a picture of a living goddess or a human rights abuse?

A young man from Bakhtapur tells me, that in his town the girl is is locked away for ten days only, with her parents.

The plight of the vendors: no one there who buys …

beautiful souvenirs

souvenirs waiting

last not least: the picture that probably everybody takes

an open wound

once a beauty

Greetings from Durbar Square; Kathmandu

Gerburg

The first thing that people tell you when you arrive in Kathmandu is that the media have been unjustly concentrating on the distruction. After all Kathmandu is still standing and people are getting on with their lives, an extremely difficult task with 90% less tourists than usual. I vow to take pictures of all the intact buildings and to spread the word: it’s ok to come back!

New apartment buildings and family homes in Bishalnagar where I live

Patan or Lalitpur, Durbar Square: once an incredibly high concentration of finest ancient art, temples, idols, ashoka pillars. A lot of it is still standing, propped up by wooden beams,

still of breathtaking beauty

entire temples vanished,

a huge gap where a temple once stood

the tourists gone.

here our 10% of the tourists that didn’t cancel their trip to Nepal, a photographer at work.

a broken pillar

A question always on my mind: why did some buildings collapse and others remaind standing? (knowing the answers from engineers, geologists, seismologists …)

old Newar type buildings around Durbar square in Patan holding their ground

Building according to standarts helps: framing construction.

earthquake safe framing construction

Then I saw a house like the one above tiltet 45 degrees because the ground underneath water and sand had given way. I was on a crowded bus and couldn’t take a picture.

I am fascinated by wooden beams keeping old houses from falling over

Magic wooden beams

Places of worship amidst the rubble

Garuda, Pray for the beloved country!

Ganesh, share your wisdom, remove the obstacles!

Kathmandu, walking to Durbar Square, once one of the most awe-inspiring places in Kathmandu, with hundreds of tourists and locals mingling, greeting, chatting, doing business

right around the corner from the most luxurious shopping street

not so much has changed

five rupees for a pictures? But the tourists are not there

Back in Kathmandu after 11 years!

The most unique flag

Last time I was here Nepal was a Monarchy. You weren’t supposed to talk bad of the King, bad meaning with a critical attitude.

Outside the Kathmandu Valley the Maoists were putting up something like a guerilla fight. Poor innocent tourists  trekking along picturesque Himalayan paths were getting relieved now and then of all their cash and just left with enough fare to get back to Kathmandu (fair enough).

I missed out on the Maoist period. A couple of days before I left, the Maoists started besieging the Kathmandu Valley, the city itself was under curfew with only taxis with foreigners being allowed to go to the airport.

A time followed where bombs were blowing up causing death and destruction.

Now the government is formed by a coalition between Democrats and Maoists (gee, that beats German and Italian coalitions).

A comunist. He didn’t live to see his people become the multiparty democracy he was fighting for but (was) died in a car crash.

At first sight the country has improved. I notice:

Streets are better, sidewalks newly paved, still too many times ending in a mud pool, fewer bycicle rickshaws, more motorcycles, very middle classy. Here just the drivers wear helmets, not their pillion passengers like friends, girlfriends, wives, children (may Shiva protect them);

less cows competing with the other traffic participants, they are still holy, as holy as a living being can be in Kathmandu traffic, which is frighteningly anarchic, always a matter of millimeters.

This is not rush hour, during rush hour I am unable to take pictures.

The air: wear a mask, or learn the habit of clearing your throat noisily and spit on the floor! Yes, you can.

People: as friendly as ever, always greeting, always ready to get into a chat with you even though much of their attention is taken up by their smartphones as in the rest of the world.

At Pashupatinath, one of the most sacred Hindu sites, mother and daughter posing for daddy with his smart phone (and for me)

After the earthquake: Kathmandu is still standing as a whole, many houses having already been built with a concrete structure with steal beams inside.

Kathmandu seen from above

But the scars are everywhere.

Durbar Square, Kathmandu, a huge hole in the old palace, then museum

Next time

Durbar Square in Kathmandu

Bye Gerburg