An Honourable Man

A few years ago, the trip into the part of town which housed Bablu’s home would not have been something I felt comfortable with.  In parts of India or Africa it might be known as a slum or shanty town, although these terms don’t sit very well here and just one football field away, there is a three-storey brick house (along with others) given to a woman by her father for her birthday.  

In short, Bablu’s house where he lives with his wife, father, sister and two children, was about the size of a garage, made of breeze blocks, with a corregated tin roof.  It was attached to many other similar buildings.  A series of narrow passageways led through the houses, with communal toilets and washing rooms in one area.  The room was sparse, with a simple wooden shelf which had blankets on, a bare floor and an old, one ring gas hob on the floor in one corner.  There was little food I could see.  

(Bablu)

As soon as I arrived Bablu’s wife took a blanket, laid it on the floor, and invited me to sit.  The floor is also where the family sleep at night.  The sweet, ginger tea was already on the boil and was served piping hot with three rusks.  Bablu and I continued the conversation we had been having for a couple of days now.  Before I saw his home, I suspiciously wondered whether perhaps Bablu’s story could be just that - a story to extort money from tourists.  But, sitting in his home, I was glad he had stopped me in the street, glad I went to the School of Art and glad I had found out much more about him.  His father and sister went begging every day, something he did not agree with doing.  He became a student of art as a means to try making a living.  The manager of the school supports the family with food and a little income every time Bablu brings a tourist in to buy one of the Mandalas.  Bablu’s English is very good, another surprising fact for someone who had rarely been to school.  He cannot write (other than almost mark out his name) or read.  He had earned extra money as a shoe shine/repairer in the past.  His mother, brother and another sister had to stay back home in Rajistan.  

Ultimately, his story had captured my interest.  His manner was so intelligent and his ideas and dreams challenging yet, with the right support, achievable.  First and foremost, he wanted to feed his family and secondly, he wanted his children to go to school.  He did not want them shining shoes for a living.  Aged three and one, it had not been an easy journey for them either.  The older one was born with a whole in his heart.  He wears an enormous scar from just below the rib cage up to almost the crook of his shoulder and neck, and his thin, shorter appearance ensures his younger brother is almost the same size as him.

Part of this incredible journey I find myself on had led me to be sitting in that room, a thousand miles from the life I lead, and it felt completely right.  The tea was delicious and despite limited language between Bablu’s wife and I, there were plenty of smiles and basic Nepali words (a third language for her – English would be a fourth).  Chatting to Bablu in his very basic home, with his wife watching on and the kids playing, drinking the hot tea, it was as if that moment had always meant to be.  I felt respect, trust and a sincerity that you don’t find so frequently nowadays and you are certainly warned that you may never find in this part of the world.  It led me to ask him the one question I had wanted to ask for a couple of days.  “What can I do to help you?”  He didn’t quite understand at first, so I asked, “If there was one thing, I could do for you what would it be?”  Of all the answers I was expecting the one I got was testament to the man I found myself in the company of.  “I need a shoe shine kit” he replied.  For a moment I was a bit confused, but he went on to explain that, with a shoe shine kit, he could start working for himself and earn the money he needed to buy food and also even save a little extra for school for his children.  We talked for half an hour about what a shoe shine kit entails, how many customers he might see in one day, charges he could apply and so on.  He didn’t know it, but I was sitting there with over £100 in Indian currency and £100 in Nepali currency in my rucksack.  He could have asked for anything, for cash…but he didn’t.  I would have given most of it to him too.  It would have blown my budget into the air, but I would survive – of course I would survive.  My main concern was how would he and his family survive.

With a promise to meet the following morning, I told Bablu I would go home and think about it.  Being in the part of town I was, Bablu took me to the road to find a taxi.  On the way we bought a few staples – rice, oil, chapati flour and milk powder, so his family could eat a proper meal that night – and for a few nights after.

(Photo of Bablu's eldest who had his birthday whilst I was in Bhotang)

The following day, I returned, Bablu collecting me in a taxi.  We went to the house of a man selling a shoe shine kit.  I had been curious about the price the day before, but when I saw the extent of the kit, I realised why the price was as it was.  There were brushes and polishes for shoe shining and glues for mending soles.  There were leather pieces and inner soles and under soles.  There were zips for mending jackets or bags, tools for piercing holes in leather and others for removing nails.  There were shoelaces of every colour and thick thread to sew leather.  There was even a stand on which to put the upturned shoe to work on it.  The box itself was quite ornate and had the traditional little step on which a customer puts their foot whilst the shoe is shined.  There was even a little stool on which Bablu would sit.  Did I have a moment of doubt?  Of course.  Were there elements of his history that didn't quite connect? Of course.  Ultimately though, nothing would shake my belief that Bablu was looking for a way to support his family, a job, a means to support them into the future and not just for the moment.  He’ll make a success of earning his living, through both his shoe shining and his continuing study of art.

("I want a way to make a living" - Bablu)

Bablu told me that, on my way back through Kathmandu, I would have to visit him shining shoes and come back to his house for a cup of tea.  I was certainly very keen to meet up again with him and his family after my time in Bhotang and find out how everything was going.

I must thank my parents and my brother Nick (and his family) for their support in helping to buy the shoe shining kit and for trusting my judgement.