Luda has arrived. The day which we planned and plotted over a Vietnamese restaurant in Narrabeen six months ago has come to pass. There are adventures ahead. I met her at the airport with a garland of marigolds. For the first time in days, the snowy Annapurnas were clear and sharp. The usual noisy crowd of taxi and hotel touts were shouting for attention for the jet lagged and culture shocked passengers, vainly searching for their luggage on a carousel toppling with rice cookers, blankets, carburettors and medical equipment.
The police were, as always, out in force there, with their riot helmets and rifles, and batons, ensuring people didn't crowd the crowded entrances. Everybody waiting for somebody was ushered into the waiting room. I didn't want to stay in those crowds as I had a really bad whoopy sort of cough so I sat or stood outside, while different groups of police attempted to move me inside. Eventually I showed the garland and told them I was waiting for a princess. They genuflected, stepped aside, and allowed me to sit, on my own, away from the crowds, until she arrived. She passed through the doors like a breath of fresh air, golden and luminous.
I rushed up to her and flung the garland on her neck, gave her five big fat kisses and an equally luminous hug, put a bottle of water in her hand, and in two point five seconds three porters had scrabbled for her luggage, and we were ushered into our specially-cleaned-for-the-occasion hotel manager's Kathmandu-style limousine.
At the hotel, the manager, dressed up in a suit fit for a visiting minister, with a tikka on his forehead, waited, beaming. For the Princess, he said, touching his tikka.
But holy Sadhu! The manager took off like a pigeon in front of a motor bike. He rushed up two flights of stairs, rushed down the corridor where a woman was assiduously scrubbing the vinyl floors, flung open the door to a large, light, airy, airconditioned room with working toilet and mould free bathroom, far enough from the honking road and yapping dogs, the room I’d been begging for from the moment I arrived, and shouted gleefully: “ Madam Princess, This Your Room. There your Fruit. There Fresh Water. There extra blanket. Pillows. Refrijjerater.”
There is no justice in the world when Luda arrives on the scene.
We ate on the rooftop overlooking the Annapurnas, surrounded by pots of sunflowers, and cosmos. It was time to show Luda my Kathmandu.
First, I took her to the Pashupantinath temple, so I could introduce her to the sadhus who gathered there every day to spout philosophy just by dilating their pupils and looking sagely on anyone who passes. It had taken me weeks to get their confidence to photograph them without emptying my purse of coins and my heart of its secrets. There were some glorious faces, a new palette of colours and designs, some impressive headgear, a Hanuman with a long tail and red face, the usual Saturday morning cremation rush hour complete with weeping widows and shaved sons, gawping tourists, begging women, insistent junk jewellery touts, Bogmati bottom scrapers, wheedling guides, and a few psycho aggressive semi naked babu sadhus wearing multicoloured top hats and brandishing tridents through the choking dust of cremation pyres and fires. Just your average Nepalese morning.
Luda sailed up to my old saffron coloured friends, quickly befriended a sadhu or two; and wherever she stopped to draw breath, she was surrounded by boys trying to sell her something; touch her skin, inhale her other worldly aroma. Or just gawp at her blonde hair and blue eyes. And preferably, just hover close by, trying to absorb some of her angel dust! So we dropped her off to wander around, and my taxi continued through the relative quiet of a Saturday closed-shop morning which meant that cows could cross streets without becoming kebabs and shopkeepers could climb on each others shoulders to erect neon signs.
Luda didn't want to come with me to the zoo, to see the street children that Monika had coralled from various dispossessed points of the city. I didn't press her: I've been here six weeks and am hardened to the tragedies and dark corners of this city; Luda is still in semi rapture. Let her enjoy as long as she can. A Woman on a Mission, she needed to hit the shops – fast.
It's wonderful to have her here; she is significantly contributing to the GDP of Nepal - hunting, pecking and gathering as fast as she can. We've already become known as Those Two Australian Women. Possibly of the "open Your wallet Dot Com" variety. And Luda is a far more ferocious jugular go-for-er than I. It's impressive to watch. She sails in like a billowing yacht with her caftan in full sail while I chug along behind her like a dinged about tugboat, and soon she’s surrounded by touts, shop keepers, lookers-on, clutching children, awestruck teenagers, water sellers, money changers, rickshaws, kebab sellers, bell ringers and professional nose pluckers.
But something else, first.
I have 3000 readers of my blog; I only know who about 50 of them are. A short while ago a reader - referred from another - wrote and told me of an organisation called Big Umbrella, who do charity work in Nepal. I contacted them, and the next morning met with Monika Cevis, who began the organisation called Child - Street to School. Monika is a young Swiss woman who visited Kathmandu three years ago and immediately became emotionally involved with the plight of street children, and returned to live here and do something significant with her life.
We sat for few hours in the Hotel Horizon garden before I went to fetch Luda from the airport. I'd told her about the boy and the puppies. She told me she knew him. And of all the other street children. She told me that almost 94% of street children are addicted to glue, which is sold under cover by the women cigarette and lighter sellers.
That the chai wallahs, the 10 year olds who weave through the markets to bring you boiling sweet tea while you're waiting for a necklace to be made, or a pashmina to be fetched from a cousin, are there because they've been indentured by their families. Of the corruption on every level of apparent protection. Of the child prostitution, of the abuse conducted by tourists. That clothes we give to the street children when we leave town are resold for glue. That people like me who do give money or food to the children actually, although our hearts are in the right place, don't really help the children long term. Monika goes to the children every morning, and in exchange for giving them food, also gives short school lessons. If the tourists give food or money, the children don't turn up for lessons as they have their basic supplies. Monika has just organised a facility for the children to live, learn and rehabilitate. All is on her site.
Here are some of the children's stories that Monika sent me this morning. Verbatim. Please be warned that these are disturbing graphic descriptions and may upset you. Also remember that these are the words of children.
Sunil is a Tamang boy and his family came to Kathmandu from Dolakha about ten years ago.
Sunil said "We, my father, step-mother, younger sister and I are living in Old Baneshowar. My father is a riksha puller in Thamel. My Step-mother told me that we do not have enough income from our father’s earning so “ Why don’t you beg for some money to pay for the house rent. I cannot provide you food if you also do not earn money. So now I’m a beggar in the Ratnapark area. I beg the whole day and I go back to our room in the evening. I have to have at least Rs.50, to give to my step-mother each day. If I do not have money , she beats me and she does not give me any food to eat for the night.“
Kanchi told us: I ran away from my house about two years ago without informing my parents as I was constantly harassed by my step- mother. I came to Kathmandu and started working as a domestic child labour. I had to work 16 hours each day. The master did not give me enough food to eat or a place to sleep. Because of this I could not stay much longer in that house. I stayed about a month and returned to my own home. When I reached my home, my step mother acused me of becoming a prostitute. She beat me and threw me out of the house refusing to take me back as I had bought shame to the family name.
Kumar 15, is from a Tamang family from Nuwakot district. His mother left him and his father when he was eight years old and his father then remarried. He told us "After one year of marriage of my father he brought me to Kathmandu and put me as a domestic child labour in a rich person house. After that my father and step- mother did not come to visit me. One day the house lady beat me with sticks and yaled at me that I was lazy and did not do enough work "your father has taken Rs 1000 from us for your work“ she shrieked ,"I will kill you if you do not work hard“. I was called Bhote, they did not call me by my real name. I worked there for two years and ran away. Now I’m here in Gausala.
Sanjaya 16 is from a Chettri family from Rautahat district. His mother died when he was five years old and his father also died due to alcohol abuse. His brother started to live separately. Sanjaya was brought to Kathmandu by his aunt by promising good employment. Sanjaya told us „ My aunt put me in a hotel where I had to work every day from early morning to late nights . She also took some money from the hotel owner , who was also from Rautahat district. I do not know where she has gone. I worked for about two years and hardly got any pay as I had to repay the money that my aunt took from the hotel owner. Eventually I ran away and came to the street of Basantapur and I have been living here for three years.“
Shyam, 16, is from a Damai (Taylor) family. He was brought to Kathmandu by his brother in law when he was nine years old. Shyam says ",My brother-in-law told me he would find me a good job in Kathmandu. There were also other six boys as I now remember. We came from Lamjung to Dumre and from there we came to Kathmandu. He took us to a carpet factory and told us that you people need to work here. He then disappeared. Later we tried to run away from the factory, the superviser of the factory told us that we had been sold to the employers. You know we had to work 16-18 hours there from early 6 in the morning till late 11 o’clock in the night. If you do not work, the superviser would beat us. After working six months there, one day I ran away with two friends from the factory and went to a hotel in Kalimati area where I worked as a Hotel boy for six months. The hotel owner did not pay me he just used to give little food left by the customers. I then left the hotel and came to the streets. I have been living in the areas of Thamel, New Road, Basantapur, Durbar Marga, fort he last five or six years. One year I also stayed in Pokhara as a street boy.
Raby 14, is from a Damai family from Sindhupalchok District . „ I have been in the street for last three years in New Road area. I used to walk around Basantapur, Kalimati, Asan and Indrachowk, with other friends for bagging and rag picking. One day my foot was hurt very badly and my friends suggested that I should go to a foreigner living in Bhotebahal. I went there and was threated for my burn. After that I used to go there regularly and he also used to visit me. He takes our photographs, sometimes naked pictures and gives us some money for it.
Sanjaya 15, is from a Chettri family from Rauthahat district. He was sold to the hotel owner by his aunt where he worked for about two years and came to the street of Basantapur where he survived by stealing and begging. He told us "One day a foreigner came to me and asked me to accompany him . He said that he was a social activist working with children. I went to his place and spent one year at his place where there were 15/16 other children including girls. The man used to give us good food sleeping place and medicine if we were sick. He used to kiss and lick us and asked us to mastrubate him. He also used to do anal sex. He used to give us Rs.100 to 200 per act depending upon the sexual activities.
Maili, now 17, is from a Magar family from Palpa district. She was brought by a woman from her village by a domestic child labour to the women’s daughters house in kathmandu. She had to work 18 hours per day without salary. Maili told us, Sahuni (Mistress ) used to beat me telling me that I’m not working well so one day I decided to run away from the house. I came to Bir hospital (in the street) and I met some girls of my age, who suggested that I should stay with them.One day my girl friends forced me to have sex with a man. They told me he would give me money. But what happened you know,my friends took the money and that night I had to satisfy not one but four drunken men. It was my first exposure to sex. Maili told us ,, At that time I was only 15 years old and I cannot forget that event where I was sexually eploted by four boys. Further she told us, it was my first sexual act, after that I started my sex occupation“ she told us „ I stayed for one year at Bir hospital and then came to Ghousala . Sometimes I have three to four clients and sometimes none. She gets Rs 50 to 500 per act but sometimes nothing at all. Her clients are the local young boys.
Kancha 14, is from a Tamang family from Nuwacot district. He came to Kathmandu at the age of 10 and worked in a while in a hotel and after that he came to the street. He also stayed in a rehabilitation center in Kathmandu, but came back in the street as he was beaten by a senior street child in the center.He told us "I used to beg in Basantapur area. One day a foreigner came and asked if I would like to go with him. I went with him to his house in Baluwatar. There were other 15-20 children, including four girls. He gave us food, clothes and medicine . After seven days I found out he was yogen (sexual abuser). He requested me to masturbate him. Then he had anal sex with me. There were also other yogen in that place.
Shyam 14, is from a Giri family from Tanahu district. His mother died four years ago and his father got married with another woman. He came to Kathmandu with his friends hoping for a good job but had to live off the street as a beggar. One day he told us, one yogen gave me some money and asked me to go to a hotel with him. When we reached a hotel in Thamel, he asked me if I wanted to bath and then he also joined me in the shower. We were both naked and then he took my hand to his penis and asked for masturbation. He promised to give me Rs. 500 if I provided him sexual satisfaction. He also gave me some medicine for my illness and after that I was his regular client.
Madan, 19 is an adult who grew up in the street. He stayed at Basantapur for about 10 years after which he stayed around two years in Thamel. He was abused by Pedophiles a lot when he was young and when he became around 14-15 years he also started to send street children to pedophiles. He informed us that sometimes he used to get Rs 1000 to 5000 per child.
I wanted to get involved. Monika told me that she was taking a group of children to the zoo on Saturday (today). The bus, food, entry for about 30 children would cost $100. I said I'd go and photograph for her and put all this on my blog. I wrote to a donor, Y, to thank me for putting me in touch with Monika, and told her about the outing. Yvonne immediately sent me $100 via Paypal. Monika is on her way this morning to the zoo, with Yvonne's money. Fifty children are going. 100 wanted to come. They are being picked up by bus, from various locations. Bugger my wolf-ish cough. There are worse problems here than bronchitis. Luda and I are going independently.
Thankyou Universe. And Y. A true Goddess.
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