Saturday in Samtengang

Mouse tally still 54. Not sure if they’re outsmarting me or just dead.

Seeing as there’s no mouse story to relate, I thought I’d introduce the regular ‘Interesting Facts About Bhutan’ slot.

So here’s today’s Interesting Facts About Bhutan’

·         Television was only introduced in Bhutan in 1999

·         At first the wrestling channel was banned (but sadly they seem to have relaxed that one)

·         MTV is still banned

·         It is illegal to sell tobacco products in Bhutan. A woman recently went to jail for 5 years for selling cigarettes in her shop.

Source: Lonely Planet, Bhutan, 2007

This is another one of those long overdue posts. As mentioned before, I often have to go the the capital Thimphu to get my eye looked at. Well, the last time I went, Justine and the kids came too. We stopped off in Samtengang to visit our fellow BCF volunteer teachers Vicky and Ian.

The journey to Samtengang with our fantastic driver Mr Subba

Samtengang is about 4 hours drive from Thimphu and about one hour’s drive off the main (East-West) road. It’s amazing how much the climate changes as you move around (and up and down) and we were very pleased to enjoy the warm weather Samtengang had to offer.

Of course, being Saturday Vicky and Ian had to teach and of course being lazy, we stayed at their house while they went off and taught. We did however make it to Ian’s school in time to help out with a bit of alfresco reading. Ian’s school unlike mine is part of the United Nations World Food Program. This means that many students are enrolled at the school because of the promise of two meals a day. Incredibly, Ian pointed out shanty-style shacks and told me that young children live alone in them because they live too close to school to be boarders but too far away to walk to school every day. Their parents might visit at the weekend with clean clothes and a few supplies.

Saturday morning buddy reading program

Later, when Vicky took us on a tour of her school, I spotted a young woman playing volleyball in shorts. Nothing amazing about that you might think but I couldn’t help but remark that hers were the first female legs I had seen since coming to Bhutan (other than Justine’s of course). If you look at the photos of females in our pictures you will see that their Kira goes all the way to the ground; knees, shins, ankles very rarely see the light of day.

After school, Vicky and Ian took us on a walk to a nearby village where the houses are made of rammed earth. Basically, the walls are made with thick clayish mud. Teams of women fill wooden frames with the mud and then ram it down with wooden presses to compact it. They then leave it to dry out before returning to add the next layer. The ‘earth’ is simply dug out of a nearby cliff face and so it has to be one of the most environmentally friendly ways of building a house. These are no ‘mud huts’ either. They are huge, beautiful houses and it’s great to see a centuries old technique still alive and well.

According to the Lonely Planet, “the pounders are usually teams of women, who sing and dance as they beat the walls. Although Bhutanese women are usually shy and modest with outsiders, they traditionally loosen their inhibitions and exchange ribald comments with men as they perform their pounding.”

The village whose name I’ve forgotten (sorry) looks absolutely amazing. You feel like you’ve stepped back in time to medieval days or perhaps stumbled onto a film set. It is also impossibly beautiful. Check out Amelie in the hollow tree that’s straight out of a fairy tale.

If you’re ever in Bhutan and wondering if you should take the detour to Samtengang, do it, you won’t regret it.

Walking around the chorten 3 times is considered auspicious

Teenage girl carrying mud for new house construction

Communal toilet - as the sign says, "Use it Properly"

The uphill trek back to Vicky and Ian's place

Thomas found a horn

When is a restaurant not a restaurant?

Mouse tally still 54.

Last Saturday was a funny old day. The previous day a colleague had told me that I was Teacher on Duty for Saturday. That meant, I had to be at school by 6am to supervise the morning study of the boarding students. Needless to say, I wasn’t very happy about it – I’m not exactly a morning person and frankly I don’t think I should be at school on a Saturday at any time of the day.

Chumey main street, 6am Saturday. At least I wasn't the only one up!

Let sleeping dogs lie

“Oh by the way,” he said. The Teacher on Duty for Saturday also does Sundays. As I rapidly turned apoplectic, he quickly added. “Don’t worry; you only have to supervise the evening study on Sunday.” So, I get to have a bit of a lie-in on Sunday morning - I should be grateful for small mercies.

Now forgive me if I approached the school with some trepidation. The last time I was Teacher on Duty, 3 of the high school girls went sick. One literally collapsed in the assembly area and appeared to be wailing in tongues – (some of her friends said she was possessed by a bad spirit) she was eventually given a piggy-back up to her hostel (dormitory) by one of the strong boys and appeared fine the next time I saw her. 

Thankfully last Saturday went without incident; I performed my duties and all was well. There was a definite buzz of excitement in the air because the school was about to take delivery of some statues that had been ordered a long time ago. The school secretary had gone to the capital Thimphu in the school bus to personally take delivery. The statues are of various gods and will take pride of place in the school altar. Such statues aren’t just regular cargo; they have to be treated with the utmost respect. 

Now, whenever an important dignitary visits the school, they are met beforehand at the point when they cross into the district ‘city limits’ and then they travel together to the school. The same was true of the statues and I was lucky enough to be invited by the principal to accompany him to meet them. The meeting point is an unbelievably beautiful spot with an ancient monastery nearby. I was privileged to be given a tour of the monastery by a friendly monk called Jigme, known to many as Jimmy.

Jigme (Jimmy) leading us around the monastery

Eventually the bus arrived, laden with a multitude of cardboard boxes. Now, regular readers will know about my battle to get my T.V. fixed. It was last seen languishing in Thimphu awaiting repair. I had phoned the repair man about 5 times in total, trying to get him to fix the T.V. in time so that it could be collected by the school secretary on his visit to the big city. Of course, on that very Saturday that the bus returned from Thimphu, I received a text message saying that I could now pick up my telly! Great timing! I wanted to text back but what was the point. I have no idea how I will retrieve my telly now – other than an 11 hour bus ride which I don’t really fancy right now.

Jimmy and I. He said he felt short!

After the statues were safely installed in the school altar, tea and rice were eaten and the mood was festive. By now it was around 6pm and neither Justine nor I particularly felt like cooking dinner.

“Let’s eat out!” Justine suggested.

“Great idea!” I replied. “Let’s go to one of the restaurants in the village.”

Now, there are several establishments with the word ‘RESTAURANT’ writ large above the door. The first place we visited had plenty of empty tables. The young couple who run the establishment looked visibly uncomfortable as we asked what food they were serving.

“Try next door,” they suggested, looking keen to get us out of the place.

We dutifully went next door and asked. Again, they looked decidedly uncomfortable at being asked to serve food in a restaurant.

“It may take some time” they said. Can you come back at 8 o’clock?

“Hmmm, not really,” we said. We rather wanted to eat now.”

“Try the KTM bakery,” they suggested.

“Will they definitely serve a meal?” I asked. Not keen to walk 15 minutes to a restaurant if we were going to come home empty stomached.

“Oh yes, they will definitely be serving meals,” came the reply.

A restaurant that's not a restaurant (as we know it)

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the bakery, taking care to fill our pockets with small stones to ‘deter’ the many barking dogs who can become quite aggressive once night falls.

“Do you serve dinner?” we asked upon our arrival.

They looked nervous. “It may take some time,” came the familiar reply.

But we can do you some noodles, or momos or puri if you like.

“We’ll take the lot,” we said, “Oh, and we’ll have some of your samosas too!”

I won’t claim that the food was very healthy – nearly everything was deep-fried. But we were just glad to sit down and finally eat some tasty food that we hadn’t cooked ourselves.

So, if you ever find yourself in Chumey on a Saturday night feeling slightly peckish, maybe you should just make yourself a sandwich!

A restaurant that is a restaurant (as we know it)

Not lobster but deep fried bread, mmmm....greasy!

T.V. Trouble

The mouse tally currently stands at 54. I’ve blocked up one of their favourite hidey holes with duct tape so I’m not sure where to leave the traps now. Whilst making dinner tonight I heard a rustling on the shelf where we store our pasta. I carefully removed several jars so that they wouldn’t be broken in the impending fracas. I stood, brandishing a piece of pine, ready to strike. I could feel my heart beating as I removed the last packet of pasta spirals knowing Mickey was lurking in the corner. But in a death-defying move, he leapt straight at me, catching me off guard. I swung my stick in vain but Mickey landed safely and ran to cover. It was only as I searched for him afterwards that I discovered one of his friends in the kitchen mouse trap. Oh well, swings and roundabouts!

Bhutan has 2 main sources of income, the second most important is tourism. Anyone wishing to visit Bhutan must come on an organised tour and pay approx $250 per day. This fee does include your accommodation, guide, transport and meals – so it’s not as expensive as it first seems.

However, Bhutan’s primary source of income is as a supplier of electricity to their power-hungry neighbour India. Of course, the power comes from hyrdo-electric generators that take advantage of Bhutan’s ubiquitous mountains and rivers. Interestingly, they don’t build huge dams which flood the valley like in other countries; instead they fit turbines that are turned by the river as it flows naturally. This is less efficient but a lot more environmentally friendly.

On one of my many trips to the capital Thimphu to get my eye examined, I saw a poster for Earth Hour – an hour celebrated around the world in which people turn off all their lights and electrical appliances. I couldn’t help but say out loud to the poster, “You’ve got to be kidding. It’s Earth Hour in our house at least 5 days a week.” Yes, it is one of the ironies that a country that produces a surplus of electricity has great difficulty keeping it supplied to its own citizens.

Power cuts are very common and we have a ready supply of candles and rechargeable lights to cope with them. Of course when you’re baking bread in an electric oven and the power goes off there’s little you can do except hope that the power comes back on very quickly.

I learnt the hard way that storms can be a problem too. During one recent storm (that actually seemed quite mild) a power surge caused untold damage. The internet to our village was down for nearly 3 weeks; it was only when it came back on again that we realised that the surge had destroyed our modem.

Worse, was the damage to our T.V. We don’t watch much telly in Bhutan but I enjoy watching the news in the morning.  The T.V. broke in the power surge and I went with a friend to Chamkar, the nearest town to get it repaired. There are 2 repairers and neither would even look at it when I told them it was a ‘slim’ T.V.

“We only fix the ‘fat’ T.V.s,” they told me.

I asked my friend to tell them that I don’t think they even make those fat  T.V.s any more, maybe they should update their skills for the ‘new generation’ of T.V.s. – but it was of no avail. They told me to take my T.V. to the capital, they should be able to fix it there. I glanced around one of the repair workshops – fat, old, dusty T.V.s covered every surface.

“How much for one of those T.V.s?” I asked – thinking that this might solve my problem.

“Fifteen thousand Nultrum,” came the reply. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud – that is an entire month’s salary for a teacher. I was so annoyed that I told him that in Australia people leave T.V.s like that beside the road. It was a bit of an arrogant western thing to say but hey – I was upset.

So instead I took my broken telly on the bus and found a repair shop in Thimphu. The shop owner did at least say he might be able to fix it for 7000 Nultrum (only 2 weeks wages – bargain!). But 3 weeks and several phone calls later, my T.V. sits unrepaired wondering if it will ever show the news again.

Instead of a photo of my T.V. I thought these photos would be a little more interesting. Lois loves to carry her babies on her back just like the Bhutanese mummies!

What a blessing!

Mouse tally 53 (possibly 54) during my absence from the Diver household (see below) a mouse was caught in a trap but unfortunately it didn’t die straight away. Had I been at home, I would have put poor Mickey out of his misery with the help of a handy piece of firewood.  Justine’s a little more squeamish and so instead she simply threw the poor rodent off the balcony reasoning that the 10metre drop would finish him off. Apparently it didn’t....Mickey scampered off and his fate remains unknown. Let’s just say the tally is 53!

It’s a common complaint in Australian schools that things are so often arranged “at the last minute.” Well, teachers have a lot on their plates and so it’s no wonder that things aren’t always arranged 2 weeks in advance.  I’d like to share with you now the details of yesterday’s big school event.

As regular readers will know, Chumey School has had quite a lot of misfortune this year. Two female students have died, one from an unspecified illness, the other fell from a moving vehicle. A meeting was held shortly after Pema Choki fell from the goods vehicle. The one item on the agendum was that the school is experiencing bad luck because of bad spirits. Therefore we need to get in a senior lama to bless the school and essentially exorcise the bad spirits. (We’d actually had a whole host of monks perform an all-day blessing ritual only a few weeks ago.)

Yesterday the principal went to visit the lama to arrange a suitable date for him to visit the school and perform his rituals. The lama said that he would come at 5.30pm that same day. Notes were hurriedly issued (it was actually the first time I have seen any notes go home to parents – most of the time messages are conveyed verbally by the students).

Now, school doesn’t finish until 4pm and many of the day students have a very long walk home indeed. Needless to say, they didn’t walk home, only to walk straight back to school again – so they simply stayed at school.

At 5.30pm the lama arrived and was promptly whisked away by a few select staff and taken around to every room in the school so that he could perform his blessings. Meanwhile, the students waited in the school hall...........and waited..............and waited. I took Thomas along, thinking that he would enjoy this cultural event. I had a pleasant time talking to the other teachers, discussing salaries, lack of resources and of course....who we fancy for the World Cup. Meanwhile the rain fell unrelentingly and the night grew darker and darker.

The school grounds are quite vast and so nobody in my group had any notion where the lama was or how long he would take. It was only when I broke from my discussion with my colleagues that I noticed Thomas was sitting on the wet grass. When I admonished him for his foolish behaviour, he retorted, “But I’m tired!” It was only then that I glanced at my watch and realised that we had been standing around, sheltering from the rain for more than 3 hours. At least we teachers were having a pleasant time chatting about important issues of the day. The poor students were still in the hall and were now been made to perform religious chants.

I therefore made the executive decision to go home and get poor, soggy Thomas a quick dinner and into bed. I wondered what time the whole ceremony would actually finish. Would it still be going at 9 o’clock? Surely not! As I left, I saw one student I know well from the nearby village of Umsang. I begged her to stay at a friend’s house rather than walk home along a mountain track in the rain and dark with no torch to light her way.

The next day, I discovered that the ceremony didn’t finish until around 11pm. Please bear in mind that the poor students had to sit in the hall, chanting until then. (Did I mention that there was no food served either?) This wasn’t just the senior students, there were many students there from the primary grades. And of course, when I saw that same student the following day, she told me that she did indeed walk home in the dark and rain with no torch to light her way. They’re made of tough stuff those Bhutanese kids!  So how’s that for some last minute organisation!

P.S. Not one student was absent from my class the next day.