Tag: shelter knits

By Candi Smucker

In western Nepal is the town of Nepalgunj, it is located a couple of miles north of the border with India. This is were we flew on Thursday afternoon.

The flight from Kathmandu was in a 30 passenger prop plane of some sort (yes, I know, not enough info for some of you). We were in the air about an hour and had been told to sit on the right hand side of the plane if at all possible. When I boarded Denise was already seated and had saved me a window seat for which I am eternally grateful. The view of the Himalayans was worth the entire price of the ticket. The full hour was panorama of one grand peak after another.

Nepalgunj is a smallish town (population still to be determined, no one seemed to know) that is flat, hot and humid with the tiniest of airports about five miles out of town. If they have 8 flights a day I would be surprised. Kesang met us at the airport with a van, we loaded in with our overnight bags and off we sped to the hotel on the other side of Nepalgunj.

Kesang is a twenty-something Tibetan who has started Padhma Creations, a group of knitters affiliated with a shelter for abused or trafficked women. Kesang went to college in Minnesota and has now returned to Nepal to carry on her family tradition of assisting the women of Nepal gain higher economic independence. More on the family in a later report from an earlier day, these reports are going to be quite out-of-order.

The main road to the hotel is full, really full, of motorcycles, bicycles, horse-drawn platform taxis, little mini-mini passenger taxis, bicycle rickshaws, pedestrians, freight trucks coming in from India, goats, chickens, cows and children. Oh, and potholes.

We made it quite nicely to the hotel, checked-in, dumped our stuff and headed off across the street to the shelter home for a quick visit. It was dusk and as we sat and chatted with a few of the women (Kesang was super translator) the mosquitoes also came to greet us. Of course in an attempt to pack light for our overnight trip no one had insect repellent. The local pharmacy seemed to be out so the ladies at the shelter proceeded to light egg cartons to create smoke to keep them at bay. I am a mosquito magnet so that wasn’t really necessary for the rest of the group but I appreciated it.

Then it was back across the street for a leisurely dinner at the hotel. Leisurely because it took an hour and a half for the food to arrive. I suspect they had to call the cook back in for this large crowd of North American women. It was a tasty vegetarian buffet once it arrived, not what we had actually ordered but very satisfying. And the beer, pappadams and conversation kept us occupied until the food arrived.

The first thing the next morning we hopped on bicycle rickshaws and headed south to the border. There were two of us per rickshaw which may have been half a person too many. The morning was sunny and bright, not yet too warm, a pretty good morning for a drive to the border and on a bicycle rickshaw you are right in the middle of all the action with good views of the passing countryside.

At the border is an arch. That and the border patrol let you know you have arrived. All the traffic flows freely between the two countries with the border patrol stopping an occasional vehicle for a brief inspection. Kathy, Joan and I have multiple entry visas for India but opted not to go across as it would have taken some time to get our border stamp. Everyone but us could freely cross the border. And we kind of stand out in a crowd.

We stopped to visit the woman who manages the office affiliated with the women’s shelter. Her job is to provide support and assistance to people found being trafficked into India for labor, sex or organs. With the relatively loose border inspections we asked how these women (and some children) were noticed. It seems there is a pretty good network of rickshaw and bus drivers who will clue her in if they suspect something isn’t right.

After this visit it was back on the rickshaws for the trip back into Nepalgunj and a return to the shelter. By the time we arrived they were all at work, sitting around the yard knitting mittens and stockings. Some of the women are living at the shelter and need employment, others are community women in need of work to supplement meager family income who come to the shelter to knit though sometimes they also knit at home. None arrived as knitters and Kesang has brought several of them to Kathmandu to learn and then return to teach others. The orders received for their knits from Ganesh Himal and a few others still do not keep them employed full-time. As we interviewed them and asked if they had any questions for us the only thing we heard was a request to please place more orders. They knit a colorful Christmas stocking that has been a best-selling product for Ganesh Himal. Denise says her goal now is to find ways to double her sales of these stockings. What are we going to do about that?

This was our first visit with bunches of children around so out came the books we had toted halfway around the world. I sat on the sidewalk by the swing set and we all read books together. I left the books with the shelter manager and hope they become well-worn.

After lunch (we ordered earlier) it was off to visit at the homes of five or six of the knitters a short walk from the hotel and shelter. These are simple homes, often six or seven people to a room within a compound of extended family members. Children were all over the place wanting their pictures taken and giggling like crazy when they got to see them. They also grow mushrooms which was fun to see.

Our return flight was scheduled to leave at 4:55. At 4:10 (you already see the problem here) the bright, shiny, black, chrome-covered SUV with fancy lights taxi pulls in to take us to the airport. Nine of us plus the driver sardine into the vehicle and pray for the driver to start the car so we can roll down the windows and breathe. Off we go, plenty of time. We wind our way S-L-O-W-L-Y through all those things on the roads listed above. Finally, we make it to the other of side of town where the traffic thins out, the pot-holes mostly cease and the driver can pick up speed. It is now 4:30. Just as the speed increases a flapping sound starts. The driver pulls over. I assume something is wrong with the luggage on top of the car. Wrong. The fan belt has broken. It is now 4:35 and he has called for a replacement fan belt. This is not going to work. Sarah springs to action. From the open window she hollers at a passing van that we need to get to the airport fast. The van flips around and pulls in along side. We all leap from the car, Sarah jumps up and throws down all the bags on the top, we grab them and pile into the waiting van. Denise passes a 500 rupee note to the first driver and dives into the second car. Austin, Kesang and I are in the very back seat facing backwards. As the new driver floors it Austin shouts thank you to the SUV driver and he turns to look at us with the fan belt in his hand and smile on his face standing in front of the SUV with the hood up and waves. It’s the picture we didn’t get.

We are still about a mile from the airport. Read Candi’s next post to find out if we ever made it!