Nepal Expedition 2006
Report Week 2:
Monday 9th:
Nothing really happened. We flew to Damak, where the refugee camps are situated.
Our plane was a little 12 seater that struggled to lift its head above the
clouds as the nearby mountains sniggered. The propellers did not instill
confidence. Nor did the knowledge that if we crashed into one of the many
mountain peaks we’d have to eat each other to survive. Jonathan was eyeing up
the fat guy.
On arrival we were stunned by the change in climate. The air was thick and
sweaty. The fat guy didn’t look like he was going to make it. Sam was eyed up by
a over-friendly baggage handler with empty hands, luckily the U.N. van was there
for the rescue (not the last time we’d seek safety within the doors of a U.N.
vehicle).
The one hour drive to Damak was an eye opener. Thousands of bicycles fought
for space with rickshaws, fruit peddlers and random cows on the narrow busy
highways. Meanwhile we turn off the air conditioning, which seemed to go against
basic UN guidelines.
We negotiate room and board at Kiran Guesthouse. Here we met Rose, shop
proprietor and local school teacher. He asked us for the secrets of magic but
settled for a song with his name in the title. Rose rose rose red. Colm and
Jonathan sleep well, while the mosquito’s dine well chez Sam.
Tuesday 10th:
Maoists call a ban (strike). Everything is closed, we head to UNHCR office to
meet with Kauro Nemoto (head of sub-office) and have a security briefing. It was
brief. We eat with Tara at the modern guesthouse and get introduced to all the
staff. Tara, a Canadian intern finishing a masters, will soon develop into our
agent, manager, bouncer, guardian angel, and the only girl we can flirt with. We
visit Beldangi 1 (nicknamed the Shangri-la of all refugee camps) It resembles a
large rural village, wooden huts and water pumps aplenty. We wander past many
women and children busy filling pots, bowls, and basins. Our destination is a
large football field where we will be performing the next day. Our walk to the
field develops into a parade, us at the head and hundreds of giggling kids
tailing behind. And we haven’t done anything yet (honestly! well, maybe
something small!). Colm and Sam gatecrash a volleyball match as Jonathan melts
under a tree.
Wedenesday 11th:
Our first show for the Bhutanese refugees. Having being forced out of their
country over 16 years ago by the present monarchy, all the children have been
born in the camps. The UNHCR provided materials for basic wooden homes, clean
water, healthcare and fortnightly food rations. Clowns without Borders are one
of the most popular initiatives at the camps, and have been coming since 1997.
Upon arrival, we saw that a local committee had erected a bamboo stage and found
a car battery to run a rudimentary P.A. system. An area of the stage was
curtained off to provide a small dressing room. A small crowd of a few hundred
had gathered pre-show and just as we were getting used to the idea of a small
audience, we saw a cloud of dust to the east and heard the sound of ringing
bells. The school children had been released. Thousands of children began to run
frantically across the football field, as we, our mouths gaping open, clung
behind the only protection we had…a thin hanging layer of curtain and one man
with a stick outside. After a small showing by the young acrobats, taught by
previous CWB trips, we were called on stage. We make our way with our raining
umbrella’s and face our largest audience so far….easily over two thousand
refugees heaving towards the simple bamboo barrier that Colm was about to break
during our hat routine. Later we would regret this as the audience literally
rushed the stage during our knife throwing finale. Throughout the show we were
greatly distracted by the monitors who waded through the front rows continuously
whacking the children’s heads with sticks. Because of the large crowd, the kids
naturally were standing to get a better look. Bad idea TWACK! Our memory of
the show is completely overshadowed by the aftermath. At the end of our show we
dashed behind the stage as the crowd surged forward. Surrounded by a frenzy of
overexcited children, we sat in our private curtained-off area while a multitude
of children took it in turns to peel back the curtain. At one point we turned
to scold the kids, only to discover it was a large grinning adult.. In the
fairly laughable madness we decided on the strategy that would bring us safely
to the U.N. jeep. Those 300 metres felt like 300 miles. And those two thousand
kids, well they sounded like two thousand kids.
We made a break for it. At this point we would like to give the impression that
we left orderly, in a three pronged triangle using each other for support and
security. This however, was clearly not true. As we emerged from behind the
curtain, our suitcases and props in tow, it got a little crazy. While Colm and
Jonathan were stepping into their triangle formation, Sam had already sprinted
hell for leather and was attempting to pry open the jeep door with his teeth.
As the jeep drove off, hundreds of kids ran after it chanting our show songs.
We felt like the Beatles. Tara was our Yoko.
We had a great lunch of dhal bhat at the refugee canteen and did our
reconnaissance at Beldangi 2 for tomorrow’s show. We learned a plethora of
important lessons from today which will greatly benefit us for the rest of the
weeks. (Though we do think about bringing our own sticks…). (TWACK!)
Thursday 12th Oct.
We arrive at the large football pitch on Beldangi II to discover
the stage has yet to be built. Despite yesterday’s discussion, different people
have different ideas about where best to put the stage. We wade through the
marsh in the suffocating heat, scratching our heads at the various locations.
After lots of to-ing and fro-ing we decide on the center of the pitch and go off
to change.
On our return we see an enormous audience of about 4000 people. Apart from a
large smattering on the hill, most of them are strung out in a huge circle
around the suspended blue tarpaulin that marks our stage. Pinot leads his
acrobats in an amazing routine of flips and spins. We get the nod and parade
in. Due to the audience being spread out around us we have to play big. After
Sam and Jonathan flip Colm on to his belly we rip into an energetic chase scene.
Jonathan vaults over an elderly woman; this gives Colm the idea to vault even
higher. One by one we vault over the woman, changing her position to vary the
difficulty of the jump. The audience cheer as the old lady sits smiling, half
confused.
Pinot comes out during our acrobatic routine and does things the clowns can only
dream of.
We finish with the entire audience singing call and response to Jonathan’s cry
of “CHE CHE COOLEY.”
It was a great shock to hear that many people sing back at us.
Thankfully there is little fuss this time as we parade back to the jeep. We are
euphoric after such a great show and eat another good lunch of Dal Bhat at the
camp canteen.
Friday 13th
Unlucky for some.
Today is another Maoist ban day. This means we can’t drive to any of the camps
so we have a meeting at UNHCR to plan the rest of our program.
In the evening we are invited for a dinner at UNHCR. We perform a little show
and sing a few songs. Soon the UN staff is queuing up to sing. There are songs
from Nepal, India, Sudan, and Kenya. Colm and Jonathan pitch in with a few
Irish ballads. The craic is ninety.
Sat 14th
Colm’s Birthday. Hip hip hooray!!!
We are invited to Beldangi I to celebrate Colm’s birthday with some refugee
children. The little party is in the home of Pingula, a friend of Roz and Coco.
(No they are not two more clowns; but two girls at our guesthouse who also work
at the camps).
Sitting in Pingula’s hut with 20 little kiddies, everybody was a bit shy at
first. Soon though we got the party started. Jonathan did 6 animals in
60seconds and Colm hosts party games. Sam elevates a coin and then the kids
show us how it’s really done. They sing songs and dance while the clowns melt
at the cuteness. A quick game of pin the tale on the donkey and sure the party
is swinging.
In the late morning we sit out in the gardens and chat to the adults. Some of
the women ask a question that we find hard to answer. “Do the Irish people know
about Bhutanese Refugees?”
One of the women gives Colm a present wrapped in newspaper. He unwraps it to
find a large bunch of bananas. It is all the woman can afford. Colm is so
thankful for the present, not only because it really is all she can give but
also because we haven’t eaten yet. He shares his gift with all the children who
rush off smiling and peeling.
In the afternoon we visit a group of teenagers who are involved in a refugee
drama group. They are rehearsing a street performance that discusses relevant
themes such as trafficking and alcoholism. We talk about finding a time to give
a workshop.
We party till 9.30pm
Sunday 15th
We performed a lovely show at Beldangi extension. (The camp at Beldangi II was
so full with 22,000 people that they had to build an extension to fit another
9,000.)
A little man from the audience nearly steals the show. Initially he is picked
to stop him wielding his stick. (We are not used to the way of the stick) But
it is soon apparent that he is a natural performer.
During our acrobatic routine the audience rolls about in fits of laughter as
Colm demands that Jonathan put on his acrobat hat. All he has is a pair of
lady’s underwear which he reluctantly sticks on his head.
In the afternoon we give a workshop to the drama group. The room that we’d
booked is unavailable so all 25 of us squeeze into a tiny room. Colm and
Jonathan lead the workshop. Due to the melodramatic slaps and falls that we’d
seen at their rehearsal we teach them some stage fighting techniques. The
workshop goes well and we three clowns rush off to eat. We’re starving!