16.09.2015
Once again I find myself at a loss for words to begin this second and final blog post as and about being an All Hands volunteer. I am sitting on my bed right now, knowing I will wake up to my last day in the field tomorrow. Has it really been six weeks already? No, seriously, where has all the time gone?
One thing is for sure, it has gone into many hours of (lots of) sweat, (a tiny bit of) blood and (no) tears. Many shovel-fulls of dirt, many wheelbarrows barrowed across muddy paths, many holes drilled, bamboos split, hills climbed and many hopes reawakened.
Once caught in the routine of waking, working and whatever, days go by like in those movie scenes where calendar pages fly off one by one in quick succession. And before you know it, you’re meant to pack your bag and swirl back into the dimension of the real life.
But before we do that, let me share a few weeks in pictures, take you through our most memorable week volunteering here in Nepal (and other fun stuff).
Chautara
There is no fancy title needed for this chapter in our volunteering journey, because to us, the name Chautara alone will evoke the fond memories that we created working on this project. Chautara is a town in Sinduhpalchowk, north east of Kathmandu, the province most affected by the quakes. All Hands was invited by IOM (International Organization for Migration) to be the hands-on force in building a multilevel hospital/step down facility. Many were injured during the earthquakes and had to leave their homes, families and comfort zones to be treated in hospitals in Kathmandu. Many are due to be released, with no proper care or place to go. The facilities will house 20 people with major injuries – broken hips, amputations, ect – and a family member. They will live there and receive care and rehabilitation in form of physio- and psychotherapy. The project in Chautara is a pilot project and if it goes well, many more may be planned around the country.
We left base early in the morning and slowly but surely made out way our of the smog and into the hills surrounding Kathmandu valley. Most of the drive was spent trying not to have your neck snap while catching some extra hours of sleep on the bumpy and very winding road. We took a break at a little shack with an amazing view to have a famous lassi – after one sip of that sweet joghurty goodness I knew why it was famous – and snack on fresh tree-ripened guavas.
After around 4h we arrived at the IOM camp. A field office with a few large tents set up under a bamboo structure – the whole thing squeezed in between two IDP camps and facing a large empty lot on which there seemed to be a football match on at all daylight hours of the day. We were six in a tent that was furnished with six cots and a lamp. It didn’t take too long to settle in and we were off, walking to our new work site.
The town of Chautara was devastated during the earthquakes. Walking (up or) down the roads, stunning views of the valley and the mountains beyond just suddenly appear. And then you realize that this beauty is only revealed to you in that moment because the house that used to stand right there has collapsed. Condemned buildings gape hollow and empty from between shop fronts, some already partially demolished with only their skeletal structure remaining, some seemingly sound, until you notice giant cracks along the façade. As gruesome an image as this may paint in your minds, try imagining it with the streets bustling with people, sunlight and smiles. As tough as the first impression was to digest – in comparison to the areas of Kathmandu we have set foot in, this was extreme – we were soon lifted up by the warmth and positivity of the people in this town.
Our worksite had a stunning view and greeted us like a blank canvas ready to be turned into an artwork. We got started right away. A solid level ground was needed for a tent that was to be put up in the afternoon, so we shoveled gravel onto dirt, dirt onto gravel and sand onto dirt, compacting every layer with a compacter. And by the end of the day, we had set up a giant tent on that foundation and left with a feeling of first accomplishments and anticipation for the week that lay ahead of us.
After showers in the shower tent and getting strangely elated about getting to wear hoodies and jackets (because as soon as the sun set it got chilly), our group of about twenty enjoyed dinner in a little momo restaurant. The first night in our tent-setup was squeaky, due to some cots being on the noisy side whenever the occupant moved the slightest bit. But it definitely beat the barking pack of dogs in front of our base that had been robbing me of precious sleep for the previous week.
Generally, the work on this project was different and exciting. From leveling and prepping areas for future tents or structures, to building fences and handrails, to constructing a ramp with stone walls – Mo worked on that beauty for two days, mixing cement – my new calling, to setting up tents, to the plain old moving of bricks via a brick-chain… It was all simple and straightforward. The difference was in being able to go to the same site every single day and watch it grow and develop. To see things happen and know that you are part of having made them happen. Our workdays here felt different, our time spent here felt more valuable (without wanting to degrade the work we do in Kathmandu). The same team, the same site, the same goals. It wasn’t yet another rubble site to clear or one of many many 50 Homes, it was going to be something different, something extraordinary. And I had the impression that everyone on the Chautara team was driven and connected by an invisible force comprised of the motivation of seeing this project brought to life and the anticipation of seeing it done and used.
I hope this is not making it sound like the usual projects of All Hands are of lesser value or importance, because they aren’t. Every rubble site cleared is an opportunity given, every structure built is a home. But this kind of work is very personal – it is your time and energy that you dedicate and your reward is measured in emotions. So my depiction of this special project is based entirely on the immense gratitude I felt or having been part of it – though only for a week – and the satisfaction of knowing my time and energy were put towards something I deem very meaningful – an overwhelming return on investment.
We were sad to go. And up until getting into that van back to Kathmandu, we were devising plans that would allow us to stay – everything from a bed bug infestation in the tent (inspired by the small outbreak we had at base) to tying ourselves to the worksite, bribing our team leader or making up stories to tell back at base about how horrible the project was so nobody else would want to go. But nothing acutely brilliant enough to secure us permanent positions on this project. All good things must come to an end. And though I am ending this chapter with a corny cliché line, it really was one of the most fulfilling and enriching experiences of our travels so far.
Pokhara
Right after that wonderful week, we took our mandatory mental health break – yes, that’s a thing (more on that later). We had chosen this weekend because it is probably more fun to celebrate your third anniversary in a relaxed and private atmosphere than in between 70 roommates. So we hopped on a bus and took an 8h ride to the touristy but utterly relaxed town of Pokhara, west of Kathmandu. Being experienced with long bus rides, this one was a piece of cake – a bit of sleep, a bit of this and that and snacking and stops and all that jazz and there we were. Mo had taken care of accommodation and we checked into room on the fourth floor of a lovely inn with big bright windows and a view onto the lake. Wow! Pokhara is known as a jumping off point for many trekkers, a literal jumping off point for paragliding and stuff like that…and for the beautiful blue lake, which is greenish brown at this time of year due to the rain. Also, the view of the Himalayas was also still hidden to us due to the weather, but we didn’t mind. Aside from eating well, relaxing and enjoying each others company, we didn’t really feel pressured into being active or touristy or anything.
And that’s pretty much what we did for the two full days we were there – nothing much. But it was doing nothing much with fresh clean air, living in a no-honking zone, with a view onto a body of water (which I must say, I miss). Pokhara does have a spiritual, inspiring atmosphere to it and for the first time in a long time, I started sketching again – creating my very own mandalas. Breakfast in bed, lunch by the water and dinner followed by a walk through the rain. Now you’re probably imagining a romantic scene from some corny movie – a couple gleefully prancing through the rain, laughing and stopping to kiss here and there. Well, erase that image. First of all, it is inappropriate to hold hands in public here, so none of that kissing stuff. Second of all, I’m talking about heavy duty monsoon thunder storms. Buckets of rain pouring down all throughout dinner. Asking for a plastic bag for my handbag and then braving the walk through the flooded streets and pavements. And by flooded I mean gushing water between ankle and shin depth. Miniature white water rapids. Nonetheless, it was fun. The first time. The second time, we just felt stupid for not bringing rain jackets or an umbrella to dinner.
The Final Days
Back at base, we felt like the new people. So many new faces, so many new names to find out and match to the faces. Some people had left, some had moved to the base in Melamchi. Only a handful remained of those we had worked alongside for the last few weeks. But I guess that’s how it goes on projects like this. People will come and go. Some for two weeks and some stay seemingly forever. Some faces fade quickly and some you just know you’ll see again along the way.
The day before our last day on site, I went back to the 50 Homes project with my favorite team Roofs. I don’t think it’s necessarily the work that I was drawn to – though knowing you have literally put a roof over someone’s head is pretty darn awesome – but the people. The lovely Argentinian couple I have worked with on this team many times before, my roommates and people I will definitely remember and miss. You know when a situation just clicks into place and works? This is how I felt when I worked on this team. And hey, we became pretty good at it! After doing a bit of carrying from here to there – metal bars that will be put together as structures – and waiting for one team to finish a structure, we put up half a roof before lunch and smashed out the second half in an hour and a half – two seconds before a downpour that we waited out, sitting under our beautifully constructed roof.
22.09.2015
And then it came and went – our last day out in the field. Both Mo and I joined the Super Structure team, wanting to visit the site of 50Homes one last time. It was, as it was more often than not, a beautiful sunny day. We did what we had to do, bolting together the metal structure that was to become the new home for a family. Stories were shared, jokes were told and laughter must have echoed across the valley that morning.
In the afternoon, after our usual Dahl Baht lunch, we took part in a handover ceremony. Once a structure is finished and completed with a roof, walls and wiring, the beneficiaries put the last touches on their home – such as solid walls and flooring and such. And once this is done, All Hands officially hands over the finished house by ceremoniously giving the family some tools and tips for maintaining and expanding the structure. Short speeches are given, hands are shaken, thanks are given. We walked from one finished house to another – in the pouring rain! And then stopped at the third house for a little blessing ceremony, during which we were all honored with flower lays, scarves, flowers in our hair and the traditional tika (the red dot on the forehead). And it wouldn’t have been a party without food, right? We received plates filled with fruit, yoghurt, samosas and little crunchy bits and sweet syrupy deep fried stuff.
It was lovely to finally be part of a handover and the timing was ideal.
After that, we rolled our full bellies back up to the work site and finished off what we had started.
Friday was our last day on base. It wasn’t supposed to be yet, but the sighting of a bed bug in our room made the decision for us. What a departing gift – a morning spent boiling every single item of clothing and our backpacks, wrapping everything else up in black plastic bags to let them bake in the sunlight on the roof and then packing everything up again, hoping that all bugs and eggs were killed. Pesky little buggers!
In the afternoon there was a little party with a “Geeks and Ninjas” theme – a tribute to our big boss, who is leaving Nepal soon. The food was amazing and the costumes were innovative. The sun was also waaay too hot to be able to hang out unshaded for very long. It happened to be the day honoring the iron god, so we had a little tool-blessing ceremony as well.
And that was it… our time with All Hands had come to an end. We flipped the switch from volunteering-mode back to travel-mode and started to wrap our heads around the time frame left in this grand adventure. It was time to start planning again!
But I will leave that for the next chapter and round off this one with some personal thoughts on this first but surely not last volunteering experience. Bear in mind that these are personal observations.
The Volunteering Addiction – Why do we volunteer?
When entering a base full of people that couldn’t be more different, you take a look around and know that there is at least one common thread weaving everyone together – We are here to volunteer. But why? What motivates us to fly (up to) thousands of miles into a (more or less) foreign country and dedicate our time and physical capacities to help total strangers? Everyone’s story is different, though I think that elements are similar.
Looking back, I think my story began after typhoon Haiyan swept over the Philippines and I found myself stuck in Berlin, despite every fiber of my being wanting to be there, helping out hands-on. When we heard about the earthquake in Nepal, we were already travelling and this was one of the must-see countries on our itinerary. Wanting to help was one of the first things that crossed my mind, while watching the horrifying images on the news. And when talking to Mo a few days later – we were in different countries at the time – it turned out that he thought the same thing. However, it turns out that volunteering is not the easiest “job” to get into. One would assume that organizations would love free helping hands. Nope. Trying to find a way to help in Nepal was harder than we expected. Most NGOs just wanted donations – something people our age and non-existent career aren’t able to do. Other organizations asked for a shocking amount of money to be able to volunteer. That somehow didn’t feel right either. And then there was All Hands… An organization that connects those that want to help with those who need help. An organization that accepts people that have only time, able bodies and motivation to give. An organization that sees things through to the best of their abilities, staying in places long after other disaster response teams have left. It sounded and felt right for us.
And why were we so adamant about volunteering in Nepal? I don’t know. But now that I have, I know why people deem this sort of work “addictive”. When you are in the middle of it all - your muscles still sore from rubbling, you taste buds still tingling from your beneficiaries pickles and your body clock still ticking by the base-itinerary – it is difficult to step back and assess what goes on in your mind, what is making you tick. It takes a bit of distance and time to dig deeper to get behind the inner workings of what keeps volunteers volunteering.
The first and foremost answer you get to that “Why?”-question is: “To help those in need/affected/less fortunate/…” Of course it is. We do it for others. We see the images of people who have lost literally everything, we hear the newscaster talk about the immense poverty in this country and we want to help. We get here and take in the situation with our own eyes, ears and noses. We definitely want to help. Natural disasters are events that scare us because we have absolutely no control over them. When they strike, all we can do is be prepared, brace and recover – if the means to do so are available. When such a force of nature devastates a country that is teetering on the tightrope between Third World and Developing Country, the images exude such a strong feeling of helplessness, it hits you square in the heart. We (the majority of us) come from the confines and comforts of First World Countries. I am fully aware of my having grown up in and having lead a privileged life - in the sense that food, shelter, electricity, running water, education and health care were always a given (in addition, so were entertainment, travel for leisure, electronic gadgets, etc.…). At the same time, growing up in part in the Philippines, I was also confronted with poverty in a developing country as well. I know the feeling of wishing a better life on others, of wanting to help and support those who have less. Experience, travel and volunteering have helped me put an x-ray to this urge to help the less fortunate and strip it down to its bare components. Putting it into somewhat harsh terms, I would almost dare to call it “the rich man’s guilt” (and by “rich”, I mean those who know they have more than those they consider “poor”). I do not use this term in contempt, despite the negative connotation it might have. Without it there would be no philanthropy or charity. We know, that many of our governments would be able to support us better in times of peril, insurances might cover damages, losses or medical needs and our general safety nets are much vaster and more stable than in countries such as Nepal. It makes us put our own lives and those of others into perspective, it humbles us, it makes us give. It comes hand in hand with the other bare component – empathy. How would you feel if everything you owned was reduced to a pile of rubble from one day to the next? What if you lost you home, livelihood and path in life? Just trying to imagine this happening to me sends shivers down my spine. It is only natural for us to feel, to empathize.
This, for me, is the dominant reason for volunteering. It is so dominant, in fact, that it is also the most dangerous to “overdose” on. Having witnessed this phenomenon traveling Asia, as well as during volunteer work, I now see that there is a very fine line between empathy and pity, between “the rich man’s guilt” and a bit of a superhero complex. Not everyone living in a Third World country is poor, not everyone who is poor is not living a life worth living. Feeling for and with someone is also completely different to feeling sorry for or pitying someone. And volunteers are not white knights, riding in to save the utterly helpless damsels in distress.
We are not necessarily doing work that locals are physically unable to do – hell, most of them are probably stronger and more efficient than us. And probably better at surviving in the given situation than we would be. But what is does come down to is the time and the financial means. How is a man supposed to start digging up the mud on the site of where his house used to be, if he has to work to keep food on his table. How is his wife supposed to find the time, between caring for the children, tending to the fields and running the household. And where is the money for tools, building materials and time supposed to come from?
We are, in a way, a support system that replaces the handing over of money or materials directly to the beneficiaries. We invest time and effort and try to lend a hand at pulling people back to their feet. But we are not superheroes saving the human race. And we have no right to pity those we are reaching out to. They don’t deserve to be.
The second strongest and very important reason for putting yourself out there is the personal gratification. We volunteer to feel good about the work we are doing. Strange enough, this very powerful personal reason seems to be the one many are more reluctant to admit to openly. It’s always about the others, but never about yourself. That’s silly. You should be able to get behind the fact that you love the way this type of works makes you feel about yourself. Anyone who claims it doesn’t is a big fat liar.
Personally, I felt fantastic, hacking away at the mud with a pickaxe and putting up roofs. It made me feel good about where I was directing my time and energy towards. It made me feel like I was gathering some good karma. Having been on a longer journey before volunteering, it definitely cured some guilt about “doing nothing” (meaning, in the real world, real career, real blabla area). I was making myself useful and being productive during my self-proclaimed “time off” (unjustly called that, since I wasn’t really “time on” before that). If volunteering brought forth such strong positive emotions in me, I can only try to begin to imagine what it may evoke in people “stuck” in jobs they might have been getting bored with and other less than exhilarating “real world” situations.
And here we have another little booby trap, a friendly little whirlpool that slowly pulls you into the center and then keeps you there. Volunteering is loaded with emotion, in most part positive. This do-good-feel-good work can turn you into a doing-good-feeling-great person - wanting to stay that way. Don’t we all want to feel great about what we are doing day in and day out? Of course we do! But, to put it in a less cynical way, mostly we can feel good about what we do day in and day out – good, not great. For many, volunteering boosts that “normal” feeling we have working at home and takes it to a whole ‘nother level. This is where that addiction factor comes into play. There’s a danger losing yourself and losing track of the “real world”, because the microcosm of volunteering is just so much more fun, more rewarding, seemingly more easy and seemingly more useful. And for those unsure of the path they are meant to/want to take in life, volunteering can seem like a great place to get stuck in.
I have the utmost respect for people who cut ties with their former life to start anew in philanthropic work and commend them for having the balls to do so. This is just me expressing my thoughts and observations.
So to sum up why we volunteer: We do it for others and we do it for ourselves. The many specific reasons I have heard all fit into these statements. No reason is right or wrong or better than another. To each their own. However, I believe, a balance as well as the ability to change perspective must be kept, to ensure that you are making the experience and not the other way around.
Sentiments and Resentments
After a bit of a dissertation on why we volunteer, here are a few thoughts from deeper down on what volunteering did for me.
Tied to the reason of “doing it for others”, I thought of what our presence in this country does. Are we really wanted/needed? There’s a fine line between doing good and over-doing good and for many third world and developing countries, crossing that line make the difference between supporting the growth and sustainability of a community and creating a mentality of dependence. Nepal and volunteering have a history and it has lain the groundwork for certain aspects of dependence. It is also linked to scams and human trafficking, so not necessarily positively perceived by the government. The opinion of locals seems to be split - I have received thanks for being here, I have been questioned about my motives and I have had someone tell me that our presence is hindering Nepalis in their development and ability to self-recover and learn. It is a fine line between doing good and over-doing good. A line that volunteers have to be aware of when “doing it for others” and assessing for themselves how much they are truly needed.
While the work is straight forward – clearing mud and debris or constructing structures. What goes on in the heart and mind, however, is an emotional melting pot. Out in the field, I have been touched by a mere facial expression that oozed gratefulness. Beneficiaries give us their heartfelt blessings and the genuine emotion shown upon completion of a site is enough to leave you smiling for the rest of the day. On the other hand, I’ve also had the feeling of being treated like a team of hired hands that are there to do everything and anything the beneficiary requires. The dissatisfaction when things don’t go their way. And a certain air of mockery (as bitter as that may sound). And I’ve been saddened by a greedy brother that refused to hand over the papers to his disabled brother’s property unless All Hands builds him a new home (despite his house still standing, unscathed) as well. The rush of emotions can be overwhelming and disorientating.
The trick is to savor the positive vibes, the gratitude, the satisfaction, the pride and try and dilute or whisk away the frustrations, doubts and misunderstandings. And by that I don’t mean swallow them, push them away or pretend they don’t exist… I mean take them as they come, let them leave a bitter taste on the tip of your tongue and chew on them for a while. Take a closer look. Think it over. Question things. But always allow the sweet joy and happiness to wash over them if it wants to. Take every emotion as it comes and let it do to you what it is meant to do. Only this way can an experience like this really work its full magic on you, as it has on me.
So, this was my last post as an All Hands volunteer – an experience I wouldn’t trade for anything, ever. Now it is time to explore this lovely country that has captivated us with its landscapes, culture and people in the past few weeks…
Once again I find myself at a loss for words to begin this second and final blog post as and about being an All Hands volunteer. I am sitting on my bed right now, knowing I will wake up to my last day in the field tomorrow. Has it really been six weeks already? No, seriously, where has all the time gone?
One thing is for sure, it has gone into many hours of (lots of) sweat, (a tiny bit of) blood and (no) tears. Many shovel-fulls of dirt, many wheelbarrows barrowed across muddy paths, many holes drilled, bamboos split, hills climbed and many hopes reawakened.
Once caught in the routine of waking, working and whatever, days go by like in those movie scenes where calendar pages fly off one by one in quick succession. And before you know it, you’re meant to pack your bag and swirl back into the dimension of the real life.
But before we do that, let me share a few weeks in pictures, take you through our most memorable week volunteering here in Nepal (and other fun stuff).
Dream Team Rubble Machine.
50 Homes in a Nutshell.
A finished home.
Roofing.
Post-Lunch Coma.
Chautara
There is no fancy title needed for this chapter in our volunteering journey, because to us, the name Chautara alone will evoke the fond memories that we created working on this project. Chautara is a town in Sinduhpalchowk, north east of Kathmandu, the province most affected by the quakes. All Hands was invited by IOM (International Organization for Migration) to be the hands-on force in building a multilevel hospital/step down facility. Many were injured during the earthquakes and had to leave their homes, families and comfort zones to be treated in hospitals in Kathmandu. Many are due to be released, with no proper care or place to go. The facilities will house 20 people with major injuries – broken hips, amputations, ect – and a family member. They will live there and receive care and rehabilitation in form of physio- and psychotherapy. The project in Chautara is a pilot project and if it goes well, many more may be planned around the country.
We left base early in the morning and slowly but surely made out way our of the smog and into the hills surrounding Kathmandu valley. Most of the drive was spent trying not to have your neck snap while catching some extra hours of sleep on the bumpy and very winding road. We took a break at a little shack with an amazing view to have a famous lassi – after one sip of that sweet joghurty goodness I knew why it was famous – and snack on fresh tree-ripened guavas.
After around 4h we arrived at the IOM camp. A field office with a few large tents set up under a bamboo structure – the whole thing squeezed in between two IDP camps and facing a large empty lot on which there seemed to be a football match on at all daylight hours of the day. We were six in a tent that was furnished with six cots and a lamp. It didn’t take too long to settle in and we were off, walking to our new work site.
Home Sweet Home.
Hi Ho Hi Ho It's off to work we go.
Best worksite transpo. Ever.
The town of Chautara was devastated during the earthquakes. Walking (up or) down the roads, stunning views of the valley and the mountains beyond just suddenly appear. And then you realize that this beauty is only revealed to you in that moment because the house that used to stand right there has collapsed. Condemned buildings gape hollow and empty from between shop fronts, some already partially demolished with only their skeletal structure remaining, some seemingly sound, until you notice giant cracks along the façade. As gruesome an image as this may paint in your minds, try imagining it with the streets bustling with people, sunlight and smiles. As tough as the first impression was to digest – in comparison to the areas of Kathmandu we have set foot in, this was extreme – we were soon lifted up by the warmth and positivity of the people in this town.
Our worksite had a stunning view and greeted us like a blank canvas ready to be turned into an artwork. We got started right away. A solid level ground was needed for a tent that was to be put up in the afternoon, so we shoveled gravel onto dirt, dirt onto gravel and sand onto dirt, compacting every layer with a compacter. And by the end of the day, we had set up a giant tent on that foundation and left with a feeling of first accomplishments and anticipation for the week that lay ahead of us.
Lunch.
Generally, the work on this project was different and exciting. From leveling and prepping areas for future tents or structures, to building fences and handrails, to constructing a ramp with stone walls – Mo worked on that beauty for two days, mixing cement – my new calling, to setting up tents, to the plain old moving of bricks via a brick-chain… It was all simple and straightforward. The difference was in being able to go to the same site every single day and watch it grow and develop. To see things happen and know that you are part of having made them happen. Our workdays here felt different, our time spent here felt more valuable (without wanting to degrade the work we do in Kathmandu). The same team, the same site, the same goals. It wasn’t yet another rubble site to clear or one of many many 50 Homes, it was going to be something different, something extraordinary. And I had the impression that everyone on the Chautara team was driven and connected by an invisible force comprised of the motivation of seeing this project brought to life and the anticipation of seeing it done and used.
Prepping foundations.
Diggin the ramp.
Stone by stone.
Sexy ramp, huh?
Bamboo handrail for the physiotherapy tent.
I hope this is not making it sound like the usual projects of All Hands are of lesser value or importance, because they aren’t. Every rubble site cleared is an opportunity given, every structure built is a home. But this kind of work is very personal – it is your time and energy that you dedicate and your reward is measured in emotions. So my depiction of this special project is based entirely on the immense gratitude I felt or having been part of it – though only for a week – and the satisfaction of knowing my time and energy were put towards something I deem very meaningful – an overwhelming return on investment.
We were sad to go. And up until getting into that van back to Kathmandu, we were devising plans that would allow us to stay – everything from a bed bug infestation in the tent (inspired by the small outbreak we had at base) to tying ourselves to the worksite, bribing our team leader or making up stories to tell back at base about how horrible the project was so nobody else would want to go. But nothing acutely brilliant enough to secure us permanent positions on this project. All good things must come to an end. And though I am ending this chapter with a corny cliché line, it really was one of the most fulfilling and enriching experiences of our travels so far.
Pokhara
Right after that wonderful week, we took our mandatory mental health break – yes, that’s a thing (more on that later). We had chosen this weekend because it is probably more fun to celebrate your third anniversary in a relaxed and private atmosphere than in between 70 roommates. So we hopped on a bus and took an 8h ride to the touristy but utterly relaxed town of Pokhara, west of Kathmandu. Being experienced with long bus rides, this one was a piece of cake – a bit of sleep, a bit of this and that and snacking and stops and all that jazz and there we were. Mo had taken care of accommodation and we checked into room on the fourth floor of a lovely inn with big bright windows and a view onto the lake. Wow! Pokhara is known as a jumping off point for many trekkers, a literal jumping off point for paragliding and stuff like that…and for the beautiful blue lake, which is greenish brown at this time of year due to the rain. Also, the view of the Himalayas was also still hidden to us due to the weather, but we didn’t mind. Aside from eating well, relaxing and enjoying each others company, we didn’t really feel pressured into being active or touristy or anything.
And that’s pretty much what we did for the two full days we were there – nothing much. But it was doing nothing much with fresh clean air, living in a no-honking zone, with a view onto a body of water (which I must say, I miss). Pokhara does have a spiritual, inspiring atmosphere to it and for the first time in a long time, I started sketching again – creating my very own mandalas. Breakfast in bed, lunch by the water and dinner followed by a walk through the rain. Now you’re probably imagining a romantic scene from some corny movie – a couple gleefully prancing through the rain, laughing and stopping to kiss here and there. Well, erase that image. First of all, it is inappropriate to hold hands in public here, so none of that kissing stuff. Second of all, I’m talking about heavy duty monsoon thunder storms. Buckets of rain pouring down all throughout dinner. Asking for a plastic bag for my handbag and then braving the walk through the flooded streets and pavements. And by flooded I mean gushing water between ankle and shin depth. Miniature white water rapids. Nonetheless, it was fun. The first time. The second time, we just felt stupid for not bringing rain jackets or an umbrella to dinner.
The Final Days
Back at base, we felt like the new people. So many new faces, so many new names to find out and match to the faces. Some people had left, some had moved to the base in Melamchi. Only a handful remained of those we had worked alongside for the last few weeks. But I guess that’s how it goes on projects like this. People will come and go. Some for two weeks and some stay seemingly forever. Some faces fade quickly and some you just know you’ll see again along the way.
The day before our last day on site, I went back to the 50 Homes project with my favorite team Roofs. I don’t think it’s necessarily the work that I was drawn to – though knowing you have literally put a roof over someone’s head is pretty darn awesome – but the people. The lovely Argentinian couple I have worked with on this team many times before, my roommates and people I will definitely remember and miss. You know when a situation just clicks into place and works? This is how I felt when I worked on this team. And hey, we became pretty good at it! After doing a bit of carrying from here to there – metal bars that will be put together as structures – and waiting for one team to finish a structure, we put up half a roof before lunch and smashed out the second half in an hour and a half – two seconds before a downpour that we waited out, sitting under our beautifully constructed roof.
22.09.2015
And then it came and went – our last day out in the field. Both Mo and I joined the Super Structure team, wanting to visit the site of 50Homes one last time. It was, as it was more often than not, a beautiful sunny day. We did what we had to do, bolting together the metal structure that was to become the new home for a family. Stories were shared, jokes were told and laughter must have echoed across the valley that morning.
In the afternoon, after our usual Dahl Baht lunch, we took part in a handover ceremony. Once a structure is finished and completed with a roof, walls and wiring, the beneficiaries put the last touches on their home – such as solid walls and flooring and such. And once this is done, All Hands officially hands over the finished house by ceremoniously giving the family some tools and tips for maintaining and expanding the structure. Short speeches are given, hands are shaken, thanks are given. We walked from one finished house to another – in the pouring rain! And then stopped at the third house for a little blessing ceremony, during which we were all honored with flower lays, scarves, flowers in our hair and the traditional tika (the red dot on the forehead). And it wouldn’t have been a party without food, right? We received plates filled with fruit, yoghurt, samosas and little crunchy bits and sweet syrupy deep fried stuff.
It was lovely to finally be part of a handover and the timing was ideal.
After that, we rolled our full bellies back up to the work site and finished off what we had started.
Friday was our last day on base. It wasn’t supposed to be yet, but the sighting of a bed bug in our room made the decision for us. What a departing gift – a morning spent boiling every single item of clothing and our backpacks, wrapping everything else up in black plastic bags to let them bake in the sunlight on the roof and then packing everything up again, hoping that all bugs and eggs were killed. Pesky little buggers!
In the afternoon there was a little party with a “Geeks and Ninjas” theme – a tribute to our big boss, who is leaving Nepal soon. The food was amazing and the costumes were innovative. The sun was also waaay too hot to be able to hang out unshaded for very long. It happened to be the day honoring the iron god, so we had a little tool-blessing ceremony as well.
And that was it… our time with All Hands had come to an end. We flipped the switch from volunteering-mode back to travel-mode and started to wrap our heads around the time frame left in this grand adventure. It was time to start planning again!
But I will leave that for the next chapter and round off this one with some personal thoughts on this first but surely not last volunteering experience. Bear in mind that these are personal observations.
The Volunteering Addiction – Why do we volunteer?
When entering a base full of people that couldn’t be more different, you take a look around and know that there is at least one common thread weaving everyone together – We are here to volunteer. But why? What motivates us to fly (up to) thousands of miles into a (more or less) foreign country and dedicate our time and physical capacities to help total strangers? Everyone’s story is different, though I think that elements are similar.
Looking back, I think my story began after typhoon Haiyan swept over the Philippines and I found myself stuck in Berlin, despite every fiber of my being wanting to be there, helping out hands-on. When we heard about the earthquake in Nepal, we were already travelling and this was one of the must-see countries on our itinerary. Wanting to help was one of the first things that crossed my mind, while watching the horrifying images on the news. And when talking to Mo a few days later – we were in different countries at the time – it turned out that he thought the same thing. However, it turns out that volunteering is not the easiest “job” to get into. One would assume that organizations would love free helping hands. Nope. Trying to find a way to help in Nepal was harder than we expected. Most NGOs just wanted donations – something people our age and non-existent career aren’t able to do. Other organizations asked for a shocking amount of money to be able to volunteer. That somehow didn’t feel right either. And then there was All Hands… An organization that connects those that want to help with those who need help. An organization that accepts people that have only time, able bodies and motivation to give. An organization that sees things through to the best of their abilities, staying in places long after other disaster response teams have left. It sounded and felt right for us.
And why were we so adamant about volunteering in Nepal? I don’t know. But now that I have, I know why people deem this sort of work “addictive”. When you are in the middle of it all - your muscles still sore from rubbling, you taste buds still tingling from your beneficiaries pickles and your body clock still ticking by the base-itinerary – it is difficult to step back and assess what goes on in your mind, what is making you tick. It takes a bit of distance and time to dig deeper to get behind the inner workings of what keeps volunteers volunteering.
The first and foremost answer you get to that “Why?”-question is: “To help those in need/affected/less fortunate/…” Of course it is. We do it for others. We see the images of people who have lost literally everything, we hear the newscaster talk about the immense poverty in this country and we want to help. We get here and take in the situation with our own eyes, ears and noses. We definitely want to help. Natural disasters are events that scare us because we have absolutely no control over them. When they strike, all we can do is be prepared, brace and recover – if the means to do so are available. When such a force of nature devastates a country that is teetering on the tightrope between Third World and Developing Country, the images exude such a strong feeling of helplessness, it hits you square in the heart. We (the majority of us) come from the confines and comforts of First World Countries. I am fully aware of my having grown up in and having lead a privileged life - in the sense that food, shelter, electricity, running water, education and health care were always a given (in addition, so were entertainment, travel for leisure, electronic gadgets, etc.…). At the same time, growing up in part in the Philippines, I was also confronted with poverty in a developing country as well. I know the feeling of wishing a better life on others, of wanting to help and support those who have less. Experience, travel and volunteering have helped me put an x-ray to this urge to help the less fortunate and strip it down to its bare components. Putting it into somewhat harsh terms, I would almost dare to call it “the rich man’s guilt” (and by “rich”, I mean those who know they have more than those they consider “poor”). I do not use this term in contempt, despite the negative connotation it might have. Without it there would be no philanthropy or charity. We know, that many of our governments would be able to support us better in times of peril, insurances might cover damages, losses or medical needs and our general safety nets are much vaster and more stable than in countries such as Nepal. It makes us put our own lives and those of others into perspective, it humbles us, it makes us give. It comes hand in hand with the other bare component – empathy. How would you feel if everything you owned was reduced to a pile of rubble from one day to the next? What if you lost you home, livelihood and path in life? Just trying to imagine this happening to me sends shivers down my spine. It is only natural for us to feel, to empathize.
This, for me, is the dominant reason for volunteering. It is so dominant, in fact, that it is also the most dangerous to “overdose” on. Having witnessed this phenomenon traveling Asia, as well as during volunteer work, I now see that there is a very fine line between empathy and pity, between “the rich man’s guilt” and a bit of a superhero complex. Not everyone living in a Third World country is poor, not everyone who is poor is not living a life worth living. Feeling for and with someone is also completely different to feeling sorry for or pitying someone. And volunteers are not white knights, riding in to save the utterly helpless damsels in distress.
We are not necessarily doing work that locals are physically unable to do – hell, most of them are probably stronger and more efficient than us. And probably better at surviving in the given situation than we would be. But what is does come down to is the time and the financial means. How is a man supposed to start digging up the mud on the site of where his house used to be, if he has to work to keep food on his table. How is his wife supposed to find the time, between caring for the children, tending to the fields and running the household. And where is the money for tools, building materials and time supposed to come from?
We are, in a way, a support system that replaces the handing over of money or materials directly to the beneficiaries. We invest time and effort and try to lend a hand at pulling people back to their feet. But we are not superheroes saving the human race. And we have no right to pity those we are reaching out to. They don’t deserve to be.
The second strongest and very important reason for putting yourself out there is the personal gratification. We volunteer to feel good about the work we are doing. Strange enough, this very powerful personal reason seems to be the one many are more reluctant to admit to openly. It’s always about the others, but never about yourself. That’s silly. You should be able to get behind the fact that you love the way this type of works makes you feel about yourself. Anyone who claims it doesn’t is a big fat liar.
Personally, I felt fantastic, hacking away at the mud with a pickaxe and putting up roofs. It made me feel good about where I was directing my time and energy towards. It made me feel like I was gathering some good karma. Having been on a longer journey before volunteering, it definitely cured some guilt about “doing nothing” (meaning, in the real world, real career, real blabla area). I was making myself useful and being productive during my self-proclaimed “time off” (unjustly called that, since I wasn’t really “time on” before that). If volunteering brought forth such strong positive emotions in me, I can only try to begin to imagine what it may evoke in people “stuck” in jobs they might have been getting bored with and other less than exhilarating “real world” situations.
And here we have another little booby trap, a friendly little whirlpool that slowly pulls you into the center and then keeps you there. Volunteering is loaded with emotion, in most part positive. This do-good-feel-good work can turn you into a doing-good-feeling-great person - wanting to stay that way. Don’t we all want to feel great about what we are doing day in and day out? Of course we do! But, to put it in a less cynical way, mostly we can feel good about what we do day in and day out – good, not great. For many, volunteering boosts that “normal” feeling we have working at home and takes it to a whole ‘nother level. This is where that addiction factor comes into play. There’s a danger losing yourself and losing track of the “real world”, because the microcosm of volunteering is just so much more fun, more rewarding, seemingly more easy and seemingly more useful. And for those unsure of the path they are meant to/want to take in life, volunteering can seem like a great place to get stuck in.
I have the utmost respect for people who cut ties with their former life to start anew in philanthropic work and commend them for having the balls to do so. This is just me expressing my thoughts and observations.
So to sum up why we volunteer: We do it for others and we do it for ourselves. The many specific reasons I have heard all fit into these statements. No reason is right or wrong or better than another. To each their own. However, I believe, a balance as well as the ability to change perspective must be kept, to ensure that you are making the experience and not the other way around.
Sentiments and Resentments
After a bit of a dissertation on why we volunteer, here are a few thoughts from deeper down on what volunteering did for me.
Tied to the reason of “doing it for others”, I thought of what our presence in this country does. Are we really wanted/needed? There’s a fine line between doing good and over-doing good and for many third world and developing countries, crossing that line make the difference between supporting the growth and sustainability of a community and creating a mentality of dependence. Nepal and volunteering have a history and it has lain the groundwork for certain aspects of dependence. It is also linked to scams and human trafficking, so not necessarily positively perceived by the government. The opinion of locals seems to be split - I have received thanks for being here, I have been questioned about my motives and I have had someone tell me that our presence is hindering Nepalis in their development and ability to self-recover and learn. It is a fine line between doing good and over-doing good. A line that volunteers have to be aware of when “doing it for others” and assessing for themselves how much they are truly needed.
While the work is straight forward – clearing mud and debris or constructing structures. What goes on in the heart and mind, however, is an emotional melting pot. Out in the field, I have been touched by a mere facial expression that oozed gratefulness. Beneficiaries give us their heartfelt blessings and the genuine emotion shown upon completion of a site is enough to leave you smiling for the rest of the day. On the other hand, I’ve also had the feeling of being treated like a team of hired hands that are there to do everything and anything the beneficiary requires. The dissatisfaction when things don’t go their way. And a certain air of mockery (as bitter as that may sound). And I’ve been saddened by a greedy brother that refused to hand over the papers to his disabled brother’s property unless All Hands builds him a new home (despite his house still standing, unscathed) as well. The rush of emotions can be overwhelming and disorientating.
The trick is to savor the positive vibes, the gratitude, the satisfaction, the pride and try and dilute or whisk away the frustrations, doubts and misunderstandings. And by that I don’t mean swallow them, push them away or pretend they don’t exist… I mean take them as they come, let them leave a bitter taste on the tip of your tongue and chew on them for a while. Take a closer look. Think it over. Question things. But always allow the sweet joy and happiness to wash over them if it wants to. Take every emotion as it comes and let it do to you what it is meant to do. Only this way can an experience like this really work its full magic on you, as it has on me.
So, this was my last post as an All Hands volunteer – an experience I wouldn’t trade for anything, ever. Now it is time to explore this lovely country that has captivated us with its landscapes, culture and people in the past few weeks…
