Why Nepal?

Telling people I was going abroad was a process in and of itself. It started out as a challenge, close family were the first to know, and it was important to allay some fears, assure people I would keep in touch. “I’ll call you every week as soon as I can” “Don’t worry, its only six months, it’ll go by before you know it.”

As the circle of people who knew expanded, it became a little more routine. Sometimes, I had to say it more than once. “Nepal? Oh yeah you mentioned that before.” It was comforting to have this perennial topic of conversation, I always had something to talk about. And always, as if every single person I had ever met had been given a script, there would be that question:

“Why Nepal?”

It’s a good question. I’d had a vague interest in Nepal for years, but I never really talked about a burning desire to go to Nepal, nor had I studied the country in school. What I knew about it mostly came from a long-time doctor of mine and family friend, Cornelia Santschi. As the founder of Anatta, a global health service organization, she had been to Nepal frequently, running medical clinics and supporting a local school network known as the Metta Foundation. In high school I’d had a chance to briefly meet the schools’ founder, The Venerable Metteyya Sakyaputta, when my mother interviewed him.

The Venerable Matteya is a small guy, and very soft spoken. He comes from Lumbini, the birthplace of the Buddha, and wears the understated saffron robes of a Theravada monk. When he was in his late teens, Matteya started a small school in his village, and later expanded it into a nunnery, a monastery, and a school for young women. On that visit to our home five years ago, he explained his path to Buddhism and his continued desire to help his community. Listening to his story, I immediately wanted to go to Nepal, rather badly, because he had created such an amazing project in such an amazing place. But I was almost done with high school and I was busy and I wasn’t ready. It was the last one that really decided it.

Four years later, I was itching for new experiences, and ready to go away.

College was a great experience, and graduating was rather disorienting. I had a vague idea that I wanted to teach, to tell stories, to do something related to audio. I figured that a good way to transition would be to shock my system, to go somewhere almost completely different from where I’d been so far. Dr. Santschi mentioned Nepal again, and it suddenly seemed obvious. That’s where I should go.

Anatta has partnered with several local schools in Nepal, and they had a great need for English teachers. I had always wanted to teach English. I figured Nepal would be a wonderful place to test out that desire.

I convinced my friend, Schuyler, to come. It felt important to me to have a friend come with me to Nepal. I figured I would make friends there, after all, I like making friends. But having the safety net of a close friend in a new place felt essential.

So, we talked to Dr. Santschi, bought some plane tickets, and began preparing. We signed up for a TEFL course, and brainstormed a few projects. I had a vague idea of teaching drama, and maybe helping with a computer lab that was rumored to be in the works at the Karuna Girl’s College. Doing the TEFL was comforting, it provided a feeling of preparedness and reminded me of school.

Six weeks before our departure I stumbled upon an idea that quickly became my main project: teaching audio recording and editing. I’ve always been a big fan of audio programing, from radio to podcasts, and I’d had some experience recording and working with audio. It seemed like the perfect project to pursue in concert with teaching English.

On the other hand, we knew in advance that we could not prepare for everything. Or even most things. Natalie, a volunteer who had spent six months teaching in Lumbini last year, was emphatic about this. “I spent the week before I left constantly reviewing my TEFL course, and when I got there, I barely used any of it. You’re going to do a lot of things you didn’t expect when you decide to go.” Dr. Santschi was similarly clear. I would tell her plans I had, things I wanted to teach, and she’d kindly smile reply “that’s all well and good, but it will change when you get there.” I did my best to live with that uncertainty.

Ezekiel Maben