I am sitting on a dusty quilt in a small, pale-yellow room. A cool breeze blows through the screen door. An old woman is perched in the corner gently spinning her prayer wheel and smiling as she whispers a mantra beneath her breath. The gentle radiance from outside filters through the window and cuts through the musty smoke of incense.
Outside, I hear the sound of chanting, deep, steady and strong, as if it were the beating of a drum. Elderly men and women sit on small carpets under the orange glow of the sun as it vanishes behind the towering horizon. They are spinning, chanting and smoothing over prayer beads with their fingers.
On the crumbling cement walls that make up a small courtyard hangs a picture of His Holiness the Dalai Lama. It's surrounded by flowers, prayer scarves and candles.
I am in Jampaling, a Tibetan refugee settlement in northeastern Nepal. I have traveled here with a group of four other Westerners. We were strangers until our arrival in Nepal, and we have all made the journey here for different reasons. I was drawn to the kingdom that houses the highest point on earth, subtropical jungles, terraced hills and lush green valleys because I wanted to mingle with the gods and goddesses and challenge my spiritual beliefs. And I wanted to lend a hand where it is needed and to learn about and experience another culture.
Volunteering was an opportunity to have the experience I was seeking, to see the sights and go behind the scenes. I didn't see the point in traveling across the world just to seek the comforts of home. I'd recently graduated from Chico State University, in California, and I wanted to break out of the little bubble that I call home. I was tired of walking around Chico and seeing people who looked and acted just like me. I wanted to turn my world upside down.
Global Citizens Network (GCN) had been invited to work with the people of Jampaling following an exploratory visit in 1999. Jampaling is located about an hour's drive outside the popular tourist destination of Pokhara. Easy-going and much less crowded than Kathmandu, Pokhara accommodates travelers from all over the world. Driving out of the city, we pass through tiny towns occupying small pieces of the countryside. Every few miles we have to stop to accommodate a cow or water buffalo in the road. People sit outside their homes and watch as we drove by. It's hard to say who is more fascinated, we by them or they by us.
Once in Jampaling, which is surrounded by a fence of stones and barbed wire, our group tries to lay low and keep our cameras put away for the first couple of days. We want to introduce ourselves slowly to the community, to become friends first. This is difficult, because as much as I want to be a friend, I am also a tourist.
Tomorrow will be our first day of work on a local irrigation system. Our job is to help dig and carry out the mud and silt that filled the trenches during the monsoon season. This is a task that has to be done each year so the village can receive water from the river. The canals are packed with soft gray mud and overgrown with vegetation. GCN helped supply the village with shovels and cement for the project.
Waking up that morning, I am eager to get started. Even after a week of being in Nepal, my surroundings still feel surreal to me. Arriving at the site, I grab a shovel and jump in. I want to show them that I can work hard. My good intentions soon butt up against hard reality, however: I can barely lift a shovelful of the waterlogged mud.
The villagers then proceed to give me a lesson in the art of working. They go slowly and steadily, taking many short breaks, and in that way keep their strength through the long day. For them, work is not something that has to be finished as soon as possible. The women, dressed in colorful aprons and adorned with turquoise and coral, work gracefully. Laughing, resting and teasing each other are just as important as the duties of shoveling and throwing. As the days pass, digging becomes natural and the hard work rewarding. I begin to appreciate rising and resting in synch with the sun. My body feels strong, and my mind is clear of worries.
I begin to have mixed emotions about being in Jampaling. I feel so fortunate to have the opportunity to learn from such a unique culture, but I also realize that by sharing parts of my culture with the Tibetans I am passing on my own values and morals, which don't always represent what my culture encompasses. I think about the balance of the exchange, the experience for the volunteer weighed against the benefit to the community. Who, I often wonder, is gaining most, me or the people of Jampaling? I begin to question my motives for coming.
Volunteer travel allows people the opportunity both to give and receive as a traveler. I left the U.S. wanting to see a different part of the world and go behind the scenes. I didn't want to hang out in the American restaurants with other tourists. I wanted to help by volunteering, but I also wanted something--a great deal--for myself. Now I wonder if my contribution in Jampaling is actually undermining the very cultural uniqueness I am coming to admire.
Working together on the canal is a way for the two groups, volunteers and villagers, to mingle. The Tibetan children and teenagers are eager to talk about such things as American music and pro wrestling. Adults ask about what it is like to live in America, some expressing frustration in their attempt to obtain sponsorship so that they can live there.
I leave Jampaling with a greater understanding and respect for the Tibetan people, along with a new outlook on the effects that people can have on each other globally. It scares me to think about the way I pitied people whom I considered to be poor. Traveling to Nepal and working in Jampaling has helped me realize that these deeply spiritual people are not less fortunate than we are, and that they are rich in culture and livelihood.
Is it more important to be able to acquire the things I "need," not to have to worry about my health and know that I will never go hungry for a day? Or would it be better to live each day devoting myself to my family and religion, honoring a spiritual devotion in almost everything I do, from the food I eat and the clothes I wear to the way I treat others and my environment? Leaving Nepal and returning to my life in Chico, CA, I feel different inside. This small taste of a different walk of life has tapped into a curiosity that is constant. I have embarked on a journey of self-discovery and exploration that is far from over.
