The Blooming Lotus

Bishnu Dahal
New Zealand

“Good Morning Madam”

“Good Morning”, I replied turning to see who was behind me.

I was surprised to see a group of youths standing and looking at me. I recognised none of them.

“Who are you? Where have you come from?” I asked.

“We all belong to Bhutanese Student’s Union and from the refugee camp. If you have some time we want to discuss something very important”, the lead boy in his late teens asked me expectantly.

I was getting late to go to school but their eager and anxious looks so intense, I could not ignore them.

“Ok.. Actually I am getting late for school. So would it be alright if we walk and talk?” The school where I worked was about 15 minutes’ walk away.

“That’s Ok madam”, said the lead boy and we all filed out walking.

“My name is Tek”, began the lead boy. “We live in Maidhar camp. We were all students in various schools in Bhutan when our families were evicted and force out of Bhutan. We heard you were one of those few trained teachers who have come into exile. Our educations have been cut short, and in the camps our brothers and sisters are spending their days as if it’s a perpetual holiday. Some are even getting into bad habits. There is no one to help us. Therefore we want to keep ourselves busy and at the same time keep our younger brothers and sisters to continue learning … your nephew Prahlad, who is our Union Secretary actually suggested we come and talk to you’…Tek managed to narrate out the whole problem in long sentence.

The suggestion coming from teenagers took me really by surprise. Yes, I know the children find it most amusing to live a carefree and school-free days in the camp. But, that would lead to a spiralling future. My husband, me and his friends had been discussing on the subject among ourselves but had not been able to take any concrete steps to materialise it. Now, it looked almost like the proverbial ‘horse coming to the river to drink’..Students themselves wanted to study and teach the youngsters too. It was one opportunity we should not miss, I believe.

Two years ago Bhutan’s king had ordered discontinuation of teaching Nepali language in south Bhutan inhabited by ethnic Nepali community. All books had been torched and teachers terminated. It was replaced with the King’s dialect which the government was engaged in developing into a working language. The king had also decreed the policy of ‘one nation one people’ making it compulsory to adopt king’s culture, customs, etiquette, language and dress. Those found opposing the decree was fined, intimidated and the security forces unleashed at night to force entire family and neighbours who witnessed the army atrocities into exile. The impromptu camp setup on a patch of sandy river bank now sheltered over 27000 people, women, children and old and infirm while able-­‐bodied adult males still languished in custody in Bhutan.

“We need your help, madam” one of them added.

I was an exile too and had been able to join a private school just about a month earlier to sustain my family. To commit myself would mean forgoing my meagre income. So, I had to know more of my involvement before committing anything.

“How can I help you?” I asked them.

“You have to help us start school in the camp” said one of them.

“That sounds great, I would be very happy to do anything for our children and the community.  How do you want me to get involved?” I asked.

“It seems there are very few trained teachers in the camp, and right now we have about 6000 school going children and about 100 high school students. We want to call for a meeting with our elders and high school students to start school classes. We want you to come and participate and give your suggestions,” Tek added.

One smart looking boy, still dressed in his Bhutan school uniform added, “We have nothing to do and have no way to continue our further studies. We all want to keep ourselves engaged, keep in touch with our books, gain some extra experience in teaching and at the same time help our younger brothers and sisters to benefit too.”

The camp lacked proper shelter, living space and there was no privacy. I could see they were attempting something really big and their earnest eagerness infectiously agreeable to remain unnoticed.

“That’s a fantastic idea, but as you know I can’t take leave so you will have to fix the meeting on weekends. It will be difficult to make it on week days”, I told them.

“That’s fine with us. We have to inform everyone else too. Today is Tuesday so that gives us time to prepare our agenda. Thank you madam, we will see you on Saturday at 10 a.m. We have requested the local pilgrim shelter near the camp to hold the meeting. It’s just north of the bus stop” said Tek.

By then we had reached the school entrance where I worked.

“Yes, I know the shelter. I will be there on time. See you. It was nice of you to think of me”. I added.

Saturday morning was bright and sunny. It usually took a little more than an hour toreach the camp. So, I had my breakfast and was ready to go by 8:30 a.m. My mother, who lived with me, took charge of my kids for the day. Taking a 15 minutes bone-­‐jarring and dusty ride on a cycle rickshaw I reached the bus stand covered in layer of clay the early morning wind wiped up from the unpaved road. The bus stand was no better with busses arriving and leaving almost every minute. In the cacophonous commotion of the bus helpers vying to get their fares, it took me few minutes to find the one that was bound to leave first. I pushed myself inside and there standing near an unoccupied seat was one of the boys who had come to see me the other day, motioning towards me.

“Madam, come this way. I have kept a seat for you”.

That was real kind of him. A seat would save me an hour long jostle in the crowdedbus. “I saw you coming, so I have kept it vacant for you,” he added.

Before I could take the seat the bus began to move, but I managed to get to it and it wasa relief to plunk on it. Once seated, he began to brief me of other attendees coming to the meeting. Some names sounded familiar but most were unknown. Half listening to him I wondered what I was supposed to do and contribute to keep these youths’ enthusiasm alive and boost their efforts.

The journey was uneventful except for the usual haggles over fare and shouts by people getting on and off the bus.The adept handy-­‐boys banged on the metal door once as signal to the driver, whose side view was always obscured by the assorted passengers, to stop and twice to move on or a rhythmic repeat banging to pass another vehicle. With one loud smack on the metal door the bus came to a halt at Mai Kotihom bus stop. As we got down I saw many known faces waiting at the stop. Some had just arrived and some were waiting for others to arrive. Among them, standing talking to a group of youths was my Teachers Training Centre Tutor, who had been my trainer about a decade ago. It was a pleasant surprise and a much needed relief too. I was not only happy to see her but glad to have someone who knew how to handle the situation professionally. She too saw me and from her expressions I could see she was equally surprised to see me . She waved at me and I quickly went and greeted her.

“So, you are here too?” was my tutor’s surprised note.

“Yes mam,” I replied and quickly added, “when did you arrive?”

“We arrived about 2 weeks ago and these youngsters have dragged me here.

But, the way they projected, this could be a good initiative to keep children in touch with school and text books. So I had to come,” She narrated adding, “What are you doing? Since when are you here for?”

“We have been here for almost a month and a half, mam. I work in a local boarding school. These youth came to me the same way they have approached you. Their idea was good soI came along hoping to give some help to what they want to do.”

“Of course you can. After all you were one of the two star students of the batch. I remember that,” added my tutor. Hearing that all those stand next to us echoed, “Is that so?. We are really fortunate to have you both then.

By then others too had arrived and the lead boy suggested we move on to the meeting site. Five minutes’ walk away, the group had placed two benches under a large catechu tree. A group of about 30 youth were sitting cross-­‐legged on the sandy ground. As we approached all stood up and greeted us the way students are taught to do in Bhutan.

The invitees and team leaders were ushered to the bench. In the crowd, some had been teachers in Bhutan but most were high school students now in exile. Each of us gave a short self-­‐introduction and the meeting was called to discuss the core issue of how to start a school in the camp. A senior ex-­‐teacher stood up and talked about the importance of education and how our children were deprived of it because of the racist policy adopted by the Government of Bhutan.

“We all know why we are here today. I would like to come to the point straight away. Every day the numbers of children in the camp is increasing and we have no school for them. It’s high time that we start a school right away” he said.

“The local school don’t want to admit our kids and we have no money to send them elsewhere to study,” another added. “Let’s find the best solution to educate our ownboys and girls”.

We deliberated for about two hours and managed to identify key basic problems. “Do we have enough teachers?” was the first question.

“Yes we do. Give us some trainings and workshops and ideas on how to handle little children and we will do it,” the youth answered back very bravely.

“That’s a fantastic idea” said the senior teacher. “However, it will be good to have a detailed list of all boys and girls now in camp who were studying in class ten or above.”

“Yes, we have a preliminary list. We are updating it with all who are arriving every day. So far we have listed around 100 youths, all wanting to be part of the school program,” answered the Youth Secretary.

“In that case, we will meet here again same time next week. We will first have a short briefing on how to conduct classes followed by about 2-­‐3 hours’ seminar on teaching,” my Tutor announced. Then pointing towards me she said, “She has been a New Approach to Primary Education (NAPE) trainee too. So she can tell you more on practical teachings which I feel will be suitable in this situation.”

All eyes fell on me eager to hear what I had to say. Even though I had been a teacher for more than a decade but here I was visibly nervous addressing the crowd. I looked around even anyone else was willing to speak but it seemed every eyes were glued on me. So mustering my will, I stood up to speak.

“It’s nice to know everyone wants to begin afresh. We will try and address all your questions and queries during the proposed seminar. Meanwhile, it would be good if the Youth Group and the trained teachers could sit after this meeting and list things we need to collect and how it should be sourced to start the school.” I said.

In the discussion that followed, it was then unanimously decided that the former teachers and high school students would take the classes. The Student Union Secretary let everybody know that a local NGO had agreed to donate books, some writing materials and most important of all portable blackboards and chalk. It was also decided that all members of the Students Group would go hut to hut and talk to the parents to bring their children to this catechu grove. Classes were to be held under each tree where everyone could also keep watch over the children. Besides, the area under catechu being sandy and very little vegetation the children would be relatively safe from snakes and be able to see them far away.

By then words had spread that the camp was to have a school. Somehow they had managed to boil two kettles of tea and brought it on to share the moment of good news to happen after many months in their lives. Everyone was excited. After having a cup of tea each everybody dispersed.

The following week, we gathered at the same place again. To our surprise, the youths had made a bamboo table and some benches besides collecting some materials to make teaching aids. The teachers too had come up with samples of teaching aids to show to the group. I had taken a flannel board and some pictures to form a story and a set of flashcards. Each one of us gave brief demonstration of our own teaching materials. Then we moved on to make best use of the materials the youths had collected. Everyone was excitedand wanted to learn more.

In the midst of our busy learning a loud voice distracted us. Everybody looked at thesource. It was an elderly man who had come to tell us that the lunch was ready. It was an unexpected welcome call. A joy to share that even in the midst of such difficulty our people still managed to cling on to the social custom of sharing whatever little you had. The lunch was rice with curry and watery lentil besides some green chillies and salt. The pervasive sand gave a gritty touch but being served with love and care everything was nice and homely.

After lunch, one of the senior teachers showed how to plan a day’s lesson. Each trainee was then given a topic and asked to plan a lesson. The teachers and the learners gave their best and managed to do a week’s work in one day. All teaching materials we had brought were handed over to the group for their use. At the end of the day the youths seem much happy and confident. It had been a long and tiring day but I could see a glow of satisfaction flashing from everybody’s faces.

Two days later on Monday, there was a loud blow of whistle and then a bell that hung from one of the catechu branches rang. Excited boys and girls began walking and running to select the most vantage points to take a seat.

The Bhutanese refugee camp had begun its own school. Signalling the dawn of a new day, new life and likely a new future too.

(The edited version of this story has been published in book “THE BLOOMING LOTUS”  SHORT STORIES BY FORMER REFUGEES IN NEW ZEALAND  (ISBN 978-0-473-30274-0) published November 2014 by Refugee Trauma Recovery and Voice Arts Trust,  New Zealand. The story appearing here is the unedited original version by the authors and may differ from those published in the book ” The Blooming Lotus” .)