Sunday, September 25, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
The first rain has fallen since the monsoon of my summer, and I feel comforted, nostalgic. In the chaos of the past three weeks, I have managed carve a little time for myself to draw again. I've rejoined The Sketchbook Project, selected the theme Travel with Me, and have begun working feverishly on my first pages. I was not very pleased with my book last year, so I joined the project a few months earlier in order to spend more time making this book do what I hope it will.
Wish me luck!
Monday, September 19, 2011
Thankfully, everyone at both Shree Mangal Dvip and the monastery have not been affected by the 6.9 magnitude earthquake in Sikkim.
So I've been back in Istanbul for a little over a month now, busy as a bee with oh so many things (as I am sure you've noticed by the long silence on this end). I managed to get into the rhythm of life here a little better, though I miss Nepal. I finally got a cooker and a fridge for my apartment, and I've been cooking dal bhat and burning the Tibetan incense that Lama S.T. and Lama P. gave me, to take me back to summer.
I've even started drawing again.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
If you would like to support Shree Mangal Dvip School for Himalayan Children, please visit their website to learn more about the school, and to find ways you can help. SMD fully depends on their overseas donations, and there are many things the school needs, from running shoes to vitamins, from art supplies to books.
"Our students come from the high mountains of Nepal, from villages that have no electricity, no toilets, no sanitation, no telecommunications, no hospitals, no roads and no schools. Our kids come from villages that are 6 to 14 days' trek from the nearest road, villages that lie above 10,000 feet (3000 m). Getting word to and from the villages sometimes takes months,depending on weather conditions."You can help promote literacy by purchasing a book for the library from SMD's Amazon wishlist, or you can make a safe donation to the Himalayan Children Fund through Network for Good, specifying how you would like your money spent, in the "designation" box before check out. Here are just some ideas of what the school needs currently:
Sanitary Products for the girls: $140/month, $1690/year
Running shoes: $100 helps 16 kids, $4000/year (kids play in their bare feet or sometimes share shoes, putting one shoe on their kicking foot for soccer)
Warm winter clothes: $100 helps 15 kids, $3000/year (there is no heating at the school)
Art Supplies and drawing paper: whatever amount you can donate will be of help.
A little goes a long way in Nepal. Please consider making a donation or buying a book for the kids at SMD through Amazon. It's remarkably easy to make someone's life a little better, and my goodness, how compassion and generosity are appreciated.
Thank you, my friends.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
When I was a little girl, I had dreamed of seeing the Himalaya. I imagined the faces of mountains, sharp and eternal, blues and greys. I planned that one day I would look upon these faces, I would learn their landscape, and meet the people who lived in their shadow.
In 2010, I bought a ticket to Kathmandu with adventure on my mind, and the desire to volunteer at a school, offering whatever I could as far as skills and support to people who might need them. When I arrived at the little brick building that is Tribhuvan International Airport, I had that odd feeling inside that my life was never going to be the same.
The Universe aligned in a most peculiar way to place me at Shree Mangal Dvip School for Himalayan Children (SMD) in Boudha, on the edge of Kathmandu. I was to teach art, as there were no art classes, and there was a group of talented young students hungering to draw. I still remember walking into the dim little classroom for the first time, where I was met with wide eyes and shy smiles, feeling nervous, wondering if I could give them what they needed.
By the time the summer was over, the shy smiles were wide, happy grins and the growth of confidence was tangible in all of us. We talked, we laughed, we drew. Somewhere in the grey, thick monsoon, these kids became my kids, and I felt a pull in my soul to return. I left with a heavy heart, and it took me two weeks to readjust to living in Istanbul again. I scanned the horizon for mountains, I searched for the smiles I missed. I saved every kuruş for seven months to buy my plane ticket back to what I can only call home.
SMD had virtually no art supplies when I arrived in the summer of 2010— we did everything with pencils and A4 copier paper. This year, with the generous help of a 10th grade class at Istanbul International Community School and Güven Sanat art supply store in Kadıköy (who kindly offered me a massive discount, enabling me to purchase even more supplies), I returned to Nepal armed with two suitcases bursting with paints, colour pencils, charcoal and other fun materials.
The smiles that greeted me this June were larger than the ones I remembered from the previous summer— I had come back. So often, volunteers do wonderful work and are never seen again, and though the kids at SMD are accustomed to this, I must believe there is some sense of loss felt. Every single student I had taught in 2010 was waiting for me on the balcony of the cafeteria, where we had determined had the most light, bursting with enthusiasm and anxious to get started. I pulled out a box of charcoal.
"Have you ever used charcoal before?" I asked.
As the summer rolled on with the giant, heavy clouds, we studied proportion, expression, and the figure. With blackened fingers and dark smears of charcoal stretched across damp foreheads, laughter and jokes filled the space we had claimed, and the windows to the cafeteria began to fog with the breath of curious onlookers.
"Samantha, kasto cha?"
"Mo san chai chu." I would pronounce clumsily back.
They taught me Nepali, and I showed them perspective.
We planned an exhibition.
We filled the library with our art, something that had never been done at the school before, and all the children were brought up in groups by their teachers, and they stood on benches and stared, marvelling at their classmates' work.
"Our kids really did all this?" One teacher asked me, as he studied the drawings in awe.
I realised that day in the library, that I belong. I belong to something larger than myself. My life is entwined with the lives of these gorgeous faces, and I have a place that will welcome me as family each time I return. The love I feel is mightier than any mountain.
Thank you, my artists. Thank you, Shirley. Thank you Lama S.T. Thank you Karma Tsering.
We were lucky to have with us this summer the very talented and big-hearted Toby, a young volunteer from Portugal whose artistic skills are beyond measure. Thank you, Toby.
Thank you SMD.