Returning 'home' and back to school

‘I see my path, but I don’t know where it leads.  Not knowing where I am going is what inspires me to travel it.’ – Rosalia de Castro

So, what can I say?  Catching up was all I expected and more.  I spent my first night in Kalimpong with some of the Rai (Santa’s) family.  His sister, Premika, who owns and runs a chemist in the town is a good friend and has been enormously helpful.  It is great to know that, after three attempts, she finally has her visa for London and will be running the London Marathon in April of this year.  Running is Premika’s big passion and she has taken part in many half-marathons runs across India to help the charity she supports called ‘Run with Roshni’.  You may remember an earlier blog talking about a charity night we went to in aid of ‘Run with Roshni’.  The following two nights I was in Kashyem with Suman, Khaliun and Tshering Sirs.  I couldn’t have been made more welcome.  The Saturday of that first week back was Neha’s birthday.  I spent the weekend with SM, Sunita, Santos and his family.   We had a lovely dinner on the evening of Neha’s birthday, the main event of which is Neha cutting and then serving cake to the people in the room.  As you can imagine, it can get messy and there seems to be some tradition where the birthday person gets icing wiped on their cheeks too.  It was lovely to be back, and, in all honesty, I slept the best I had slept in a long time those two nights.


(Suman Sir's dog 'Bruno' and cooking in the kitchen with his niece)


  (Rice on the boil and pickle being crushed)

(View of Kanchenjunga from between the houses)

(Drying tumeric in the sun)

(Drying 'greens' on the roof)

(Happy Birthday Neha)

(Feeding the family cake)

(Honouring the birthday girl - 17 today)

(Nigam is in Class 10.  Using the opportunity to improve his English, I was invited to his church and then house for lunch.  Nigam (aged 15) picked me up on his moped!!! This was the photo when we arrived safely.)

(Mincing pork for the Momos - using the khukuri)

(Saying 'hi' to Premika and Bhai at her chemist shop)

(Morning run group)

(Pretending to help Premika with her training)

The following week, I began working in the Mondo Challenge Kalimpong office with Santa.  We started sorting out a few events and confirming a few dates, but our focus was devising a strategy for 2019 and delivering an action plan that could work to facilitate the ideas.  It was a productive week and, the more I wrote and thought about alternative funding, ways in which organisations could support, which didn’t involve finance and where to go to look for avenues to research these things, the more I realised just how much I was experiencing.  These are things I would not be doing back in the U.K.  The challenges were great, but the desire to fulfil them was greater.  Santa and I achieved much in that first week and it was a good job.  The Headteachers meeting, scheduled for 2^nd February had had to be postponed and was going to be held on the 16^th February, which gave us lots of time to prepare and more time to finalise the things we could announce/discuss.

Premika and I went out walking ever morning for about an hour.  We’d start from the house at about 5.30am and it was fantastic that Roshni joined us one morning too.  Talking to Roshni as we walked was so revealing as I began to understand more about what it is like to be an NGO in India and where to look for better ways of sourcing funding or support.  We were walking only because Premika has a slight swelling on her ankle and, until she could get it seen, we did not want to aggravate whatever injury it was.

After a week at work, I had to make my way back to Kashyem as I was being picked up by the Headteacher of another school so I could attend a family wedding.  The wedding was about 10 km from Kashyem, just before the border town with Sikkim (Rangpo).  It was in a little village and, having left Kalimpong at about 1pm, I arrived in said village, called Barack (so named because before the village existed, the British Army had a base there).  I could not, in all honesty, have ever prepared myself for the next three days or how involved, welcome or totally included I would feel. 

The wedding was of Mahendra’s niece on his wife’s side.  I have met Mahendra and Kalpana a few times (a returning volunteer – Lorraine – always stays with them and works at Mount View – Mahendra’s school).  Their son, Ayush, also attends New Rise and is about to start Class 10.  The small village has a football field upon which stood two large hall-like buildings and a small seating area.  The constructions were all made from bamboo and had already been decked with brightly coloured fabrics.  Flowers were being hung on parts of the buildings and balloons were being blown up.  I’ll never get used to how flexible bamboo is – even the ties that hold all the poles into place are made from parts of the incredibly strong leaves.  The preparation of the festivities was a community event.  As family and friends prepared enormous amounts of vegetables, some of them were building the kitchen on a flat piece of land just below the football ground, behind on of the big tents.  Again, simply structures made from bamboo, housed large fire pits on to which huge pots were placed.  Simple corrugated tin roofs completed the structure.

(Mahendra and I eating dinner)

(The wedding 'marquee' the night before as final preparations are being made)

(The small area reserved for the bride and groom gets the finishing touches)

(Kalpana and her eldest brother)

Mahendra and I helped where we could, setting chairs and tables and seemingly being treated to a lot of cups of tea.  While we were setting up, Mahendra explained to me several things about the wedding.  Apparently, traditionally parents of the bride do not find out that their daughter has been married until after the event.  Even then, the groom’s father sends a ‘messenger’ to the bride’s family with news that she has been married and to ready a party in celebration.  It used to be that three days was often all the warning that was given.  Times are beginning to change but many families keep this tradition or certain elements of it.  It is quite something and it certainly sheds light on why so many people here need to leave their jobs to attend events at such short notice.  This is also another reason why the community are so involved.  The rural villages do not have big spaces readily available (such as a hall) or anything like catering provisions that do exist in bigger towns.  The entire wedding depends on the community – for food, for drink, for shelter.  On that first evening the grandfather and father of the bride hosted a gathering of all those community members (at least 60) who had helped to construct and prepare everything for the following day.  They then issued everyone with their duties for the following day.  Some would be cooking (a Head Chef was nominated), some would be serving on the bar, some washing up…everyone had a job and every job had someone.  Mahendra told me that on the Sunday, the day after the wedding, we would have another party, at which all the workers would gather, and the bride’s family would say thank you.  The entire focus of that weekend, for the community of Barack, was the wedding. 

(The bride's father and grandfather host the dinner at which the community are given their roles for the wedding)

By the time I went to bed that evening, I had met countless members of the family and been treated so incredibly well.  We had finished the preparations with dinner at the bride’s parents house, which looked out on to the football field and which was literally like Piccadilly Circus.  People coming and going, food and drink being prepared, lifted and carried off to somewhere else and even some of the guests staying there.  I myself had been given a room at the house of bride’s maternal grandfather’s house, which was a privilege, because I am not sure how many people had beds that weekend.  The bride’s uncle, brother in law of Mahendra, had the room kitted out with a computer, printer and scanner on which he conducted a lot of the village’s business, and offered services such as photocopying and scanning.  Whilst it is clear not many houses have access to this sort of technology, of course, certain paperwork now requires, as one might assume, photocopies of this, that or the other when submitting information to local government or for a driving licence.  It is easy to forget just how lucky we are to have such easy access to these things.  It’s good business for the villagers and it earns a little money for those residents who do have access to technology.

Over the course of that Friday evening I also understood a little more about how the caste system works in relation to marriage.  Living in the different villages and realising how many relations there were for each family, it did make one think about how people keep a track on their distant, yet close, relations.  Mahendra helped me out a little in this regard.  So, for example, Mahendra is from the Rai caste.  He also has a second caste name.  Kalapana (Mahendra’s wife) has Suwemba as her second caste.  Then each person will also have a third caste name too.  These three names are something individuals do not forget – a bit like a birthdate.  In fact some of the caste neames figure in their own name (Rai for example will be a last name, so will Tamang or Gurung – the primary caste).  If you are Rai and meet someone from the Rai caste, but neither the second or third caste name is the same then it will be OK to marry.  The more of the three names you have in common the more closely you are related, and the less acceptable marriage would be.  Obviously, these things (one would hope) would have been realised long before marriage becomes a possibility?

Overnight, it rained.  It rained quite a lot.  I was told this was unusual for the time of year, but Saturday dawned cloudy and damp.  Still, the day remained dry during the final preparations.  The tents had their final flower garlands hung and the drinks were laid out in the relevant sections of the venue (tea, coffee tent, ladies bar and gent’s bar).   Just before we were expecting the bride and groom to arrive, I was given a small woven badge to wear.  This, in my view, was an enormous honour, as it is worn by the family members of the bride so that guests at the wedding can tell who belongs to her family.  I had met so many people, I have to confess I was struggling a little to remember who who was to whom, and that was before I had even begun to think about names.  Still, the conversation flowed with people, it had remained dry and it was such a beautiful setting, surrounded by hills, banana trees and the sounds of farm animals calling out to one another.

(The flowers are put our and the garlands hung)

(The bars are stocked)

(Cooking paneer)

(Cooking pork)

(Mahendra doubling up as barber for the morning)

(The animals are tended to, all ready for a day at the wedding)

Mahendra had been given his job the evening before.  He was the ‘messenger’ for the day.  Although he was not the one who delivered the original message about the marriage, the job of messenger still needs to be done on the day as communication between the families is conducted through a third party.  I can’t quite remember the reason – blame the amount of information I was taking on board, the number of conversations I was having, trying to remember the people I was meeting, the beer or any combination of any of the above.  Anyway, Mahendra and Kalpana were pretty tied up and so I was left to enjoy the festivities. 

The bride and groom arrived (from their home about 3.5 hours away) around midday.  They were greeted by the bride’s family at the front door of their home, before being taken to conduct some ceremonies.  I understand one or two of the ceremonies would have been like the ones I saw at the wedding in Nepal.  Making offerings and asking for blessings on their union.  Once the ceremonies were completed, the bride and groom took their places in the smallest of the three ‘tents’ that had been constructed.  Once sat, the bride’s family gave them tikka, before the guests moved forward to offer congratulations and presents.  Being a little more used to some ceremonies, I had remembered to buy and bring two scarves to put around the necks of the bride and groom.  Given that inviting a complete stranger to your wedding is a pretty rare occurrence in the UK, it will never cease to amaze me how welcome I have been made to feel at many of the events I have attended whilst here, but this wedding, along with the one in Nepal, will definitely stand out.  It was bright, colourful, meaningful and yet also very informal and, whilst all of the greetings and congratulations were being given, very much like the Nepal wedding, people were eating, chatting and generally enjoying the relaxed atmosphere at the same time.

(With Kalapana's brother, wearing my little woven badge)

(The arrival of the bride and groom)

(My food - which was blooming delicious)

(Cutting the ribbon to their seating area where the bride and groom would receive guests and presents)

Soon after the bride and groom took their seats, the heavens opened.  Testament to the strength of the construction we were housed in, we remained dry and the only leaks appeared from holes that already existed in the waterproof fabric used as a roof.  The rain continued for a while, but it didn’t stop the dancing from starting.  Sadly, it did prevent the traditional bridal party dancing before they left the festivities, but they needed to return to their home and so left a little before it began to get dark.  By 6pm the music was ramped up a little and soon the dancing began to become the main focus of the celebrations.  Well, it didn’t take long…and there I was.  Apparently, “impressing” (not my word) everyone with my Nepali dancing, it was claimed that my moves were so “intimidating” that very few men got up, because they did not want to be shown up.  This, I do not believe for one minute, but it was great fun and, after a few more drinks, more people did take their turn on the dance floor.  And, of course, I loved it!

The next day, Kalpana’s sister in law cooked us breakfast after a lazy morning, not getting up until 7.00a.m.  Shortly after we made our way over to the field.  Many of the wedding guests had started to leave from the various houses they had stayed in and we joined those family and community members who had began to dismantle one of the ‘tents’.  Carefully removing the delicate materials that formed the curtains and brightly colourful decorations first, the bamboo frame of the temporary structures was revealed.  Given my height, it was here that I was given responsibility for cutting all the bamboo ties, using the traditional, multi-purpose khukuri knife.  I didn’t need a chair to stand on, just the much stronger lower beam of bamboo.   

(Kids playing marbles - just like I used to)

(The valley sides)

(Preparing the chicken for lunch)

(What views - from the school field, across the kitchen area to Sikkim beyond)

The three-day celebrations came to a close for me on Monday in the early afternoon.  Following lunch (yes, more food), a couple of people sat strumming guitars and singing softly.  After joining them, we spent a very relaxing 30 minutes, in the sunshine, exploring the different songs we all knew.  The perfect end to an incredible weekend.

(Helping Dad get lunch)

(Children playing with the freshly skinned and charred chicken - anything constitutes a toy!)

(Removing the very last of the bamboo - it was as if it never happened)

(The community party on Sunday evening)

(Me with the bride's mother and Kalpana)

(Chilling on a Monday afternoon - sun, beer and a guitar)

Back in the office and the week seemed to go very quickly indeed.  Santa and I continued to achieve quite a lot, but I was always a bit concerned that we were creating plans and possibilities rather than hard, tangible progress.  Until, we met with Roshni.  Our ideas for how the running charity can help some of the children took flight and some great plans have been drawn up.  We had also made some good progress on the action plan we had drawn up in relation to the Education Strategy we had written.  It was a full on two weeks, but it was also an opportunity for me to enjoy the hustle and bustle of Kalimpong, visiting regular coffee shops and spending time with Premika in the Chemist – alphabetising her medicines (having been asked to).

So, after what seemed like too short a time in the office, Santa and I prepared for the Headteacher’s meeting.  Santa and I will stay in touch as much as we can, but I will also return to the office for a couple of days over the next two months to summarise where we have reached, not long before I prepare to leave this part of India.

Leaving had seemed so far off up until that point.  All of a sudden, it seemed that my return to the UK was literally around the corner.  The days were lengthening and getting a little warmer and in no time at all it would be my two-month countdown.

The Headteachers meeting went very well.  I felt even more comfortable in discussions with the Heads and, as there was much to introduce them to, it could have been awkward.  In retrospect, I guess the knowledge that I was re-visiting all schools meant that any of the new initiatives or suggestions Santa and I were discussing with them, could be worked on when I arrived at the individual schools.  Knowing only too well how I feel when the ‘powers that be’ issue more demands and requirements on us as teachers, I hoped that Santa and I led the meeting in a way that was realistic and supportive.  There certainly was a good level of conversation.

At the end of the meeting, I left with the Headteacher of Step by Step, a school with about 90 children situated furthest away from Kalimpong.  You may remember this was the school where I greeted so warmly by the children when I visited for training last year?  Anyway, our journey was testament to how difficult if can be for the Heads and staff of these schools.  Pravakar had left home at 0700 and arrived in Kalimpong at 1100.  We left the meeting at just after 2pm, found we had missed the direct jeeps (3.5hrs journey time) and so booked a seat on a bus.  The bus was going to Siliguri, a different direction to the one we wanted to go in.  After approximately 90 minutes or so, we got off the bus by a bridge over the river Teesta.  I have forgotten to mention that shortly before we left the meeting the heavens opened, and thunder began to roll.  As I stood on the end of the bridge, three rucksacks in hand the rain got heavier.  We ran into a small roadside shack to take shelter and then saw another bus going in the direction we needed.  Again, we ran out into the rain, only to be too late – the bus was rammed and we were not the only ones not to get on it.  So, that was the last direct mode of transport.  Next, we took a jeep to the next largest town along our route, where we then transferred to a … vehicle … really not sure what to call it (engine like a tuk tuk, looks like a mini van, feels like being inside a giant Coke can), so we could get to the next stop on our journey.  As we boarded the little vehicle, the clouds behind us we black, black, black and the lightening was zigzagging across the sky.  It was beautiful.  

(My coke can and a very black sky)

(It rained a little)

(Selling cheese)

At the next town,…., we had a cup of tea, where we waited for another bus that would take us to Gorbathan, a town 10km from our final destination Ambiok Busty.  What a journey it was proving to be.  Whilst having our cup of tea, the rain finally descended as the thunder and lightning continued.  It was quite the show.  I have said I believe in signs and I really do feel that our journey that day was as it was so that I could fully appreciate just what lengths some of the staff have to go through to help support the schools they operate and work in.  At Gorbathan, a jeep was waiting.  I asked Pravakar if he had made a phone call (it seemed far too fortuitous that a jeep for Ambiok was just there in the road).  Sure enough, he had and, again, I bear witness to how the wider community plays a full and integral role in how the rest of community live, work and survive.  Our jeep finally delivered us to Pravakar’s house, where he lives with his Mum, Dad, brother, sister in law and niece, at just after 1930.  Quite the day of travel, especially for Pravakar.  For me, it was another rollercoaster part of this incredible journey and one I just sat back and enjoyed.  I mean, what else was there to do?  Worrying wasn’t going to get us anywhere and I have now been on enough different types of local transport to feel like a bit of an expert – the thunderstorm was an electrifying addition to keep us amused as we went along our way.

(Now I know where the term 'thimble full' came from - my 'cup' of tea as we sheltered from the rain)

(Travelling light? - MOST of my stuff for the past 6 months is in these bags)

In Ambiok Busty, agriculture is the key business – rice, wheat and tea…lots of tea.  As a result of this focus, the schools in the area have Sunday and Monday as their holidays rather than a traditional Saturday and Sunday.  This is tradition in this part of the area as Monday is market day and it is imperative that goods are taken and sold on that day.  It is a long-standing tradition and people travel from far and wide to attend the market in Gorbathan.  Step by Step is the only school of the 12 Mondo Challenge schools to have Sunday and Monday off instead of Saturday and Sunday.

Having arrived on the Saturday, on the Sunday the Pravakar (Headteacher) and four of his friends took me to the river for a picnic.  I say ‘picnic’ because this is the word they used.  Basically, the day involved cooking rice, chicken and vegetables on open fires, by the river, in which I did my clothes washing.  I know, I know!  You are, perhaps, beginning to worry you won’t recognise me when I return.  Well, you may not, but it won’t be because of my increasing abilities to cope with rural living and how little one can actually survive with.  It is more likely to be because of my expanding middle.  Whilst in Ambiok Busty, I have tried running a little as the land is flatter, but other than that, I have been living quite a sedentary life.  Anyway, it will be a good excuse not to have anyone pick me up from the airport!  I digress – again, I hear you say – back to the ‘picnic’.  It was a mild day, the sun started shining and then went behind some clouds.  Whilst the rice was cooking, I washed my clothes, beating them against the rocks and rubbing the soap in, then out, of them.  After rinsing them, I put them over rocks to dry. 

Ambiok Busty towards the plains)

(Step by Step school)

(Pravakar's family home and my homestay for the two weeks - loved it!)

(Ambiok Busty towards the mountains)

(A real road!!!!)

(Tea!  And a bit of a moron in front of said tea!)

Note: Every time I wash my clothes, in a river, or under the cold water tap at a homestay; every time I go to the toilet, wherever; every time I throw my rubbish in the bin, I am wracked by the question of where it all ends up?!  I have been living life at, what some might call the ‘source’, for a while now.  In these hills, the small beginnings of some of the mighty Indian rivers begin.  If our local waste soils this water, then it is obvious what happens as the water travels downstream to larger towns and cities.  But, the facilities for processing waste (of any kind) are woefully inadequate and I get the feeling that the government authorities are only interested in this area for the money it brings in due to the quinine rich forests.  Whilst in Kalimpong, I did see refuse collection: a pretty thankless job here, I think.  But where is this collection likely to end up?  I did ask Premika as we were walking one day, but I am not sure it is very well known as to what happens to it all.  At least at home we have the ability to make some choices about our waste.  Here there are very few options – ‘if in doubt, BURN IT!’

I read a Facebook post that said, as soon as you admit ‘I forgot’, your credibility and confidence go down.  Well, I have been admitting ‘I forgot’ many times lately – not such a great sign!  Right now, I cannot remember if I have told you about the issues facing the Gorkhaland area of India I live in.  Just in case I have, very briefly, I will summarise.  It is something that I think is relevant to the area of waste disposal and many of the issues that face local communities.  Gorkhaland is the part of West Bengal that, in the past, has belonged to different countries, one being, Nepal.  The people that live here, speak Nepali as their first language and their traditions, foods and lives reflect, very closely, those I experienced in Nepal.  The area’s capital is Darjeeling which, of course, is synonymous with tea.  Anyway, West Bengal is a huge state that reaches all the way to the Bay of Bengal and Gorkhaland is the small part that sticks out above Bangladesh and between Nepal and Bhutan.  Everyone else in West Bengal speaks Bengali as their first language (of course Hindi is the language of communication between different residents).  Anyway, the people of Gorkhaland would like to be a separate state.  There have been many requests.  In 2018 a 105-day strike by all workers (which shut almost every operation (including schools) and business in Gorkhaland, no matter how small) led to many living off their small plots of land and struggling to get by, but was important so the West Bengal and Indian Governments would recognise how strongly the Ghorkas feel about their situation.  For example, the West Bengal government take the money from quinine and tea, harvested (on very low wages) by the local Gorkas, but are accused of investing very little back into the area.  As a state, West Bengal apparently have very few Gorkas in strong, leading operational or business roles.  They want people who speak Bengali, not Nepali.  It is a big problem for the people of the area I have been living in and one that sets them even further apart, making them an even more unique segment of the Indian population (in my view).  Taking control of their own area of land, where they maintain the flow, would be a much better option for them (in their view). 

Sorry, I had digressed so far from the picnic I needed to review what I had read to remind myself.  There is little hope! 

So, after ‘hanging’ my clothes to dry on the rocks, it was time to enjoy the atmosphere, listen to the running water and cook lunch.  The rice was on to boil, the vegetables were cooking, and the chicken was frying.  Two big fires and three large pots.  Out came the … brandy!  Yes, it was 1130 in the morning and this was the drink of choice (well apparently it was all the little shop had).  In for a penny, in for a pound!  I should tell you that Pravakar is the youngest Headteacher and is only 33, so he and his friends had a considerable age advantage on me.  Lunch was delicious.  But we had eaten the first amount of fried chicken without rice or vegetables so, what to do?  Answer - Buy a whole, live chicken, keep it in a bag and, when the time is right, kill it, pluck it, chop it and cook it.  Of course, why didn’t you say so?   That is what happened, and the new chicken was added to the spicy concoction of vegetables in one of the pots.  A second bottle of spirits appeared – this time Rum!  The afternoon passed in a heady mix of conversation, laughter and improving one’s English – not mine, of course as, according to the local population, it is perfect!  I kid you not.

(Drying clothes)

(Cooking pots)

(Rice - bhat)

(Bhaji and fried chicken nibbles)

 
      (The fate of a chicken - did you know that eating such freshly slaughtered meat can give you a bad stomach, just as much as eating meat that is too old!?)

(Goats)

(Hmmm...it could do with a trim really)

(The inevitable, end of day, two bottles of spirits down, dancing on the bridge)

Before I knew it, the sun was descending in the sky and we were clearing up.  I collected my, now dry, washing and began the small ascent up the hill to the road and the bridge.  Home?  You would think so, but before that…dancing!  At the bridge was a small shop, outside which a few people had parked their cars to go picnicking – us included.  As we all congregated, the music started and for the next hour or so we danced by roadside to traditional Nepali music, many songs of which I am beginning to recognise.  My reputation for dancing remained intact as, I found out the following morning, word about the ‘dancing Englishman’ had already made it round.  Quite the first day to a new place, quite the first impression to make!

On the Monday we went to the market to buy the week’s vegetables.  A colourful blend of fresh fruits, vegetables and little piles or bags of spices, the market was a joy and it is was great exploring little known vegetables.  Some are obviously related to things back home, but some are an enigma, something to be enjoyed whilst here, in case I never get the opportunity again.  I cannot say the same about dried fish – if I never taste it again for as long as I live, it will be too soon!

My time at school passed so quickly.  Every day was a challenge.  I was teaching in the classroom, modelling lessons across classes UKG (Upper Kindergarten), Class 1, 2, 4 and 5.  I was advising teachers on their lessons in any subject they asked about.  One teacher brought all seven topics for his following days lessons and asked how to teach them interactively.  I loved the balance of it all.  Using my talents and love of teaching children directly as well as my desire to help support and encourage the development of those teachers that wanted to expand their horizons.  Not very confident in their own English, the staff spent time thinking of different ideas and after just a few days, there were teachers using matching activities, questioning, role play and displaying work within their lessons.  There was definitely a realisation that, more than necessarily being an ideas person (although that was definitely part of it), I was a facilitator, a guide, to help staff define and structure the ideas they already had into some kind of plan.  Not necessarily a written plan, but a plan so that teachers could feel confident about the way they wanted their lesson to go.  There were (are) many hurdles, but using the enthusiasm most teachers had, made the job so much easier and really rewarding.

My homestay family were incredible.  I was, without doubt, treated as one of the family.  I was, as tradition dictates, always a guest (served first for example), but I very soon helped prepare vegetables, rolled roti (chapati) and crushed ginger and garlic, when getting ready for breakfast or dinner.  We prepared food in the morning for breakfast and lunch and then again in the evening.  Lena, Pravakar’s sister-in-law is also a teacher at the school and was always on the go.  Crushing garlic and ginger at 6 am as the village wakes, the cockerels crow and the other animals begin to stir is something I will never forget.  Eating curried vegetables at 7.30 am had just become the norm, even biting on the odd green chilli – a great way to really wake up!  Before the end of the week, I was even able to wash up my own crockery and cutlery, which seems like such a small thing, but is such a big thing here – as I have said before, it is not accepted to have your ‘guest’ wash up.  Diwakar and Lena were always interested in improving their English and we had many conversations about many things.  The school is having two new classrooms built and one of the builders also wanted to speak as much as possible.  In a world when there is so much distance between people and the use of technology sucks each of us into a vacuum of self, being made so welcome as, not only a teacher, but as a guest, friend and, ultimately a family member, was, well there are no words to describe it.  Despite my increasing forgetfulness, I hope I will never forget the warmth, care and hospitality I received in Ambiok Busty.

As well as helping to prepare food and feeling, generally, more useful, I spent some of my spare time trying to create simple displays for classrooms.  Focusing on Nursery and Kindergarten, I felt the displays all looked ‘samey’.  Having the internet is a wonderful thing, but there was little, to no, time to get the children to create and so ‘printables’ were all I had to go on.  This is when it was important to remember how, even the smallest change, can seem so big in a rural community such as the one I was in.  Twinkl.com has saved my lesson or displays on many occasions, even if it is just by the planting of an idea.  At Step by Step, with access to the internet and a printer with plenty of colour ink (a rarity) I went ‘Twinkl’ mad!  Number lines, alphabet friezes, days of the week, I really hoped the children would enjoy the colourful environment and that their learning would be supported by the prompts and information around them.  In Class 1 in that first week the children created the simplest of ‘Addition’ displays and then we pasted their work to the wall underneath.  They were so excited to see their work up.  Besides school and cooking, there was the unloading of cement for the new classrooms and the serving of tea to the host of workers that turned up one day to mix and pour the cement which was for the roof of the building extension. 

Ambiok Busty was a lot warmer than other places I have visited and the tin roof on the bamboo structure that houses Nursery to class 2, absorbs the heat and makes the inside too hot (even on a cloudy day).  The newer construction, made of concrete will allow Classes 5, 6 and 7 (currently housed together), to have more room and afford a cooler learning environment. 

By the end of my first week, as I sat listening to music cutting and sticking, I really wondered two things

1    How had I felt so completely at home so quickly?

2    How was I ever going to leave?

‘Wherever you go, go with all your heart.’ - Confucius