Day 1 in Gaunshahar: An Introduction to the School

An insight into our life in Gaunshahar:

- the electricity cuts in and out and when it is on, the light in our room barely lights up a fifth of the space.

- visiting the bathroom involves leaving your room, walking around to the back of the house and into a small concrete box with a wooden door. There is no light. There are many spiders. It is wet.

- showering is not showering at all. Again you return to the wet, concrete box. There is no shower but rather a small bucket and a tap that dribbles out cold water. Your torch sits on the shelf with the spiders. Your clothes hand on nails. It is freezing.

- filling your water bottle involves walking up the hill to a pipe which brings water from a stream further up the mountain. You the need to add a purification tablet and wait for two hours before it can be consumed. If you're in luck and the pipe by the house has water flowing through it you must unhook it, get very wet, and fill your bottle up from there.

- there is one road and one bus that comes through twice a day. There is no other traffic.

- water buffalo and goats are herded back and forth past the house on a regular basis.

- we wake up to views of the Himilayas

- meals are eaten outside. We go inside to sleep only.

We got up this morning hoping for clear vistas of the snow capped peaks that apparently surround Gaunshahar. The tops of a couple seemed to float, their bases hidden in the mist, but, for the most part, it remained hazy. We crossed our fingers for a storm to clear the air.

It was a relaxing few hours this morning as we hung around and chatted with Timmy. He showed off his extensive and diverse music collection and we were introduced to Japanese VK (a very over the top display of music, costumes and makeup) amongst other things.

Ten o'clock rolled around and it was time for our first day of school. Much to Chris' surprise, he was to be teaching also. We followed Shamser to his school on the far side of the village and were introduced to both the teachers and ninety students. We watched as the kids were run through a drill of their national anthem, prayer, calisthenics and on-the-spot testing of their spelling and general knowledge. We were then directed to go and teach them how to tell the time. That was the extent of the directions given. No advice on students' prior knowledge, resources or anything else vaguely useful. Off we went though and, with chalk in hand, we tried our best in the tiny, simple classroom.

Before we started teaching Shamser took a look through the plastic bag of school supplies we had brought with us. He decided that at an official welcome ceremony we should give one pencil, texter or pen to each student as well as a piece of candy that we would, conveniently, need to buy from his wife's shop. We'll see.

The dynamics of the classroom were just like any other class. The bright kids that want to answer all of the questions sat up the front and relished a challenge. Then there were the kids that did nothing unless you were looking over their shoulder. Feels just like home!

After two period with that class we returned to the house for a lunch of dal baht before heading back to school. As we arrived we were greeted by Shamser putting a piece of rubbish in my hand. We were to go with two young girls and their buckets and pick up rubbish that was strewn throughout the school ground and the terraced hill below so it could be put in a pile and burned like the rest of the rubbish in the village. This wouldn't have bothered us except that we couldn't help but think that having volunteers pick up the kids' rubbish was not teaching them not to litter. More annoyingly, the rubbish we were picking up consisted mostly of candy wrappers. This made Shamser's recommendation of buying each child a piece of candy even less appealing.

As Shamser left for lunch he told us we would be in charge of the smallest of the kids for part of the afternoon. Until then we did our duty and added the plastic and aluminium wrap to the already smouldering fire of rubbish.

The bell (gong) was rung and we were directed to a classroom filled with tiny faces starring back at us. Given no instructions we stood there with blank looks on our faces for a while and tried to come up with an activity we could do with twenty tiny kids in such a tight space. I took those who were game into a circle and had them copy me as we danced and counted in English. Meanwhile, the rest of the kids ran wild. This is no exaggeration. They were like animals. It was like those movies where they exaggerate the craziness of a classroom. Kids were literally climbing on desks, jumping on each other, hitting, throwing food and yelling at the very tops of their lungs. Chris and I took turns entertaining the dancers and failing to control the kids that refused to join in. It's difficult to control or disciple children with whom you do not share a language. We got mad...they smiled. It was a nightmare. I eventually gave it and ventured next door to seek assistance in the form of the only teacher on the premises who spoke any English. She sat them down, put some music on and had one child dance while the others watched. Order was maintained for a few minutes before they slowly started creeping over and under their desks once again. I was pleased to hear the gong ring again and be directed to a new classroom, free of three year olds. And there was only five of students! And Shamser was there to translate which was useful. We played Fox and Geeze and The Dog is Out on the dirt beyond the classroom until it was time for the students to 'relax,' whatever that meant.

Views of the valley

We were allowed to leave school at 3pm and had an hour before Shamser would be back home needing help with the construction work. In our spare hour we intended to visit the palace and temple down the hill a way, we got half way there and spotted an appealing patch of grass with views of Besishar and the sprawling valley in which it sits. We ate the last of our Pringles and a few cookies from yesterday while we recapped the day.

Back up the hill, not long after four, the hard work needed to start. Chris and I were put in charge of piling stones onto a flattened, heavy-duty bag so we could carry them the few metres to where a toilet area was being built. The hole in the ground that would be filled with the toilet tank was lined in beautiful stonework. It was a shame it would be hidden beneath the ground. We carted load upon load of stones, literally getting our hands dirty, and loving every minute of it. In comparison to the nightmarish class we had looked after for part of today, this work was a dream.

Moving stones by hand

As we stopped work, a bit after six, it was already getting dark thanks to the heavy cloud cover that had been around most of the day. Not long after, the rain came. The first rain we have seen in over two months. It was refreshing even as we rushed around to move things into a dry places.

Before long it was time for another feed of dal baht, this time a variation on the last. We sat and chatted for a while before Timmy took us up to a hill to point out a particular light across the valley. It was the only light in that particular village and the village was home to a widow with two children for whom Shamser was building a new home. We stayed on the hill for a while and watched the lights in the valley below as we discussed, prompted by the token American, America and its failings. Of particular interest was the apparent option of the USA closing its borders and stopping anybody getting in or out. After this deep discussion, it was well and truly bed time. What a first day!