On the Rim of the Valley

For the past four or five days, we've been staying in Dhulikhel, a peaceful Newari town on the edge of the Kathmandu valley. I came up here to visit the deaf school in Banepa, but there's also been the opportunity to take a great day hike, work on our Nepali language skills, and meet some wonderful people.

The deaf school in Banepa is on the edge of town, facing a sea of rice paddies and forested hills. The school has about forty students, ranging from age 6 to 22, and when we arrived, a half dozen of the older schoolgirls were making candles for the upcoming Dasain holiday. These candles will be sold in town and then be used for the school's upkeep. The teachers and principal (five in all) were enthusiastic and dedicated, particularly impressive since they decided to split the two salaries that funding allowed between the five of them. The students cooked lunch on two decrepit oil burners-- Ananda (whose sign name means 'yawn' because he's always sleepy) appeared to nearly set himself on fire. A good portion of the afternoon was spent rolling flour into puris and frying them, and lunch was a modest but delicious chickpea and potato stew with chai and puris. It takes many of the students two hours to get to school each day, and for that reason, the school wants to build a hostel for the students and get a bus.

The students were also excited to show us some traditional Tamang and Newari dances that they'd learned as part of the school curriculum. The principal played the music on a small tape recorder and made gestures to indicate the students' cues, and the kids did a great job.

It's really incredible the level of education that deaf students are beginning to get here. There's still a real issue about this translating into jobs and opportunities, and deaf children in smaller villages, particularly in the mountains, often don't get an education. While we were sitting with the students, a sixty-year old man stood in the doorway, watching us. The students all knew him, and teasingly tolerated his presence, but he's a living example of a lost generation of Nepali deaf people. He knows very little sign, lives in absolute poverty, and made his wages by working on farms and carrying loads. Now he's looking from the outside in as a new generation of deaf children are becoming fluent in sign language, learning math and reading, and forming tight-knit circles. He lives near the school, and I hope to visit him some time.

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Our guesthouse is on the edge of Dhulikhel, overlooking a dense forest and surrounded by gorgeous flowers. The food is grown on cultivated plots by the guesthouse, and there are mandarin and persimmon trees brushing against the walls. We eat daal baat for dinner, with sides of potato curry and fresh squash greens. A family of goats lives just below us, and when we climb to the roof, we occasionally get tantalizing glimpses of the Himalaya, which are still covered with towering monsoon clouds. Yesterday we hiked up to Namobuddha, an important pilgrimage spot for Tibetans. It's a humble white-washed stupa streaming with prayer flags, a peaceful place where the Buddha (according to legend) took pity on a starving tigress and fed himself to her. All morning we climbed through mist, jungle and pine forest before the clouds cleared and we had sweeping views of the valley and brief views of the Himalaya. After Namobuddha, we descended steeply downward and passed through several small Newari villages on our way to Panauti. Our time here has been a welcome respite from the chaos and crowds of Kathmandu.