Living the Life

On a platform full of a hundred people blending into one, she stood apart. In absolute simplicity, she was different. A different typically causing unease or discomfort in the “free”, she was draped from head to toe in fine black cloth only revealing her dark eyes set in dark skin. Nearby, a small blur of teal bounced and bobbed, occasionally pressing itself against the black cloth giving shape to the shapeless.

The small teal frock turned to show an uncovered face- joyful eyes and a genuine smile with both corners pushing up pinchable cheeks.

A man accompanied the fully covered woman and the mostly covered child. He was a small man, seemingly too old for a child of such young age, but playing the part of the father nonetheless. A thin beard of great length covered the sharp of his chin, but not the line of his jaw and the standard white Muslim hat rest upon his head. He stood at the beginning of a long queue of anxious work-weary people waiting for the traffic jam-defying sky train.

The woman spoke in a language, not Thai, maybe Malayu, to her husband and he listened the way respectful husbands do. He nodded to his wife in thoughtful agreement to whatever she said, as the young child in teal held his leg and swung herself in play. The train came and the man gathered the child and their bags and escorted his wife through the open train door before himself.

The Thai family more foreign amongst the Buddhist crowd of their own country than the white-skinned, much taller, non-citizen foreigner that I am. The stream of anxious waiters standing in the platform’s queue filed in the space between a foreign family sitting one one side of the car of the train and a foreign me seated on the other. I went unnoticed, but the family did not.

Beyond the overflow of standers, I could no longer see the young child. The only glimpse of the family I had was the two black eyes encased in black cloth. I looked away, trying to find something more interesting, more captivating than the very thing I wanted to look, yet my curiosity brought my own stare back to one that had never left me.

I looked away quickly, but then looked back again. Still, the eyes peered at me.

There are times I have felt the glare of jealousy- perceived or real I am not sure- in the stares of eyes of the same ilk. Jealous of the white girl’s “freedom” to be unveiled, despised for western “liberty” to be a woman and be recognized. Were the emotions real or was it just what I assume women in veils are thinking?

I could not see more than her eyes holding a steady gaze upon me, yet I knew that underneath the cloth of perceived oppression, she was smiling. At me. No jealousy. No longing to be set free from the veil that is all most people see. No quiet desperation crying out for a voice. No. Nothing of the kind.

Crowds of people all easier to “see”, yet the only person I truly saw was the one most see as only a cloth.

She pulled her child from off the lap of the husband who was out of my sight and through dangling arms of tired people waiting to go home, she pointed the child’s face in my direction. The child smiled. The woman smiled. And so did I.

The train stopped. People scurried off and new people scurried on. The woman, the child and I continued our wordless acquaintance ignoring the surrounding motion, unaware of the presence of others, enjoying, not fearing, the differences of our worlds.

I’m not sure why this five minutes had such a profound effect on me, but it did. If a moment can make you feel at one with all of humanity, this one did just that. I think I am turning into a sentimental dork because I really felt it was beautiful.

Do Christian-influenced westerners have any right to deem the veil itself as “bad”? If it is a free choice, can it be a free choice to wear it? The woman I shared a sky train ride with exuberated confidence and a certainty of her own identity in a way that far exceeds many of my unveiled western friends. She showed no signs of veil-induced despair. If a woman chooses the veil, who are we as outsiders to condemn it? Do we demonize the presence of the cloth or the absence of choice?

"It's all about choice" -Humera Khan

PS….going to Laos soon… and then Ne-ne-nepal :)

Is this allowed in January? Just a question.

Sacrifice: To forfeit something highly valued for the sake of one considered to have a greater value or claim.

More news from Nepal:

• Curfews re-instated. It was like this sometime in 2004 as well. Nobody is allowed outside after 9 p.m. I think it is called a 'voluntary curfew' which means... don't do it and you'll have problems. The curfew was re-instated after the Maoists killed 12 policemen outside of Kathmandu this weekend. Such an attack so close to the capital when most rebel activity does not take place in the city is a big deal.
• Mobile Phones down. Mobile phones were just re-entered in July or August after the government having shut them down. Now, they are back down.
• Leaders Detained. 100 or so political leaders have been detained who have planned to hold a pro-democracy demonstration on Friday. They haven't even held the demonstration yet and they are already detained! Those detained are 'opposition to the King'.
• My Kids are still Good. I thought I would throw in that my kids are still doing good and living new lives. Pray for Rashon though, because it sounds like he is still struggling a bit. And, pray for Beebak. Remember I told you I had 'one more' I want to take off the streets if funds ever got secure? Well, that time still hasn't come and I am still heart broken that I still have one guy, who is seven, still living on the streets, still using drugs, and still being exploited.

I hope you have enjoyed my timeline and now bullet-point notes on Nepal. I am a dork.

In other news, a dieting inmate escaped prison in Australia. Totally Random.

I've been thinking about it a lot lately and getting pumped up to go there (you might remember I was going to go over Christmas, but dumb me didn't realise that Christmas is a high travel time and I should buy a ticket way in advance or else there might be none).... Well... that all worked out so DIVINELY beautifully... And guess what? I am going to be there in the Capital on one of the most crucial days in the past 4 years... Here's a quick history lesson:

1990: Democracy happened and a Constitutional Monarchy came to be.
1996: Maoist's Declared "People's War" under this man-->
I spend my free time day dreaming of meeting this guy and also stealing his hat.
Not many people died for the first 5 years of war.



2001: Entire royal family was murdered. The "official" story says the 20 something year old prince murdered his whole family and then shot himself. The real story is most people believe the new King Gyanendra (the old king's brother) plotted the whole thing. I believe the second and can give you evidence later. Here's the man some call King and others call murderer-->
I mean, seriously.... I know that Prachanda is the rebel leader... but of the two, who would you trust?



2001-2004: three different Prime Ministers within 3 years. 10,000+ people have died in the war.

March 2004: Emma experiences the realities of war in the Beni Bombings (one of the biggest events in Maoist history where a few hundred people are said to have died). Okay, I was really in a village near them, but I heard the bombs all night long and then went to Beni three days later with my students to stay in a guesthouse with gunshot out windows. Here's a pic of the days after--->




Feb 1, 2005: King decides to demolish democracy and says he'll 're-establish it later'.
Nov. 2005: Maoists form an agreement with the 7-Party Alliance to go against the King.
Dec. 2005: Probably the biggest Anti-King demonstrations of all time.
February 7, 2006: Emma arrives in Kathmandu.
February 8, 2006: King says he is going to hold an election, but no party can stand, only individuals. The Maoists and the Parties are rejecting this whole idea and nobody has come forth to run, because if they do they will probably get hacked.

So, that's my world. Or I should say the world I love. I love Bangkok too, but it's just not the same in my heart as my loveland, Nepal. If I have captured your interest enough that you want to read more, you should check this out.

Okay, so I lied. I said I was taking a sabbatical from blogging to finish my work, but I need to publicly declare my “thanks” to Miss Burma-gone-South-Africa, none other than Ashley Lovell. She’s the greatest. Really. And… I’ve only met her face-to-face once.

I remember we were sitting on the floor eating in Burma and I made a mental note that she had really good posture. My brain is so random. Well, too bad that I was busy noticing her posture instead of how she is really a sparkly gem, but not a diamond because although the general public is intoxicated with the false information that those things are rare, they aren’t rare. Really. It’s called a “controlled market”. Not to mention diamonds are in fact the source of the injustice that Ashley and I both want to live our lives to change.

Anyway, Ashley Lovell is definitely rare and after a few years of hearing Liz start every third sentence saying, “you know, you and Ashley…” I finally got it.

Thanks to the S.A. bound girl who loves Asia as much as I do, I am listening to groovy new tunes and reading new stuff about justice and God.

On top of that I am downloading some more cool music courtesy of Ryan Sharp. Today I am feeling happy.

Well, my dear friends... it's probably going to be a couple weeks until I post again. :( I have a lot of papers to write and then a trip to Laos/Cheng Mai...so, in case you miss me (which I hope you do :) )... that's the reason for the silence. So, instead of my own nonsensical writing, I am going to leave with the words not my own that were my second ever blog posting.... some things are worth repeating :) . I'll see you in a few weeks, but in the meantime, remember...

We must become filled with zeal, with joy and gratitude, gladly enduring anything, however hard, in order to be free of death and of this life in the midst of death. Then the powers of the resurrection come closer to us; then Christ really becomes the risen one, and a new life comes into being. Not the kind of life we have been seeking until now, trying to be a little better than other people, thinking that it is a new life if we steal a little less or walk around a little more decently than before or wear a more respectable coat, or if we exchange a criminal's cap for something more acceptable. All this is supposed to be a new life? Bah! It is not at all a question of being better than you were before. The new life means that forces for life can now be seen within you, that something of God and of heaven, something holy, can grow in you. It means we can actually see that it is no longer the sinful desires that have power, but that there is something of Christ's resurrection, something of his life that has power through the Spirit and that leads you toward wholeness .

~Christoph Blumhardt

I have been to this art exhibit many times now and I am still effected by the work. If you want to see some amazing work from 2-14 year old Thai kids, click here.

These are only a handful of the pieces of art that stirred, challenged, and probed the very core of my being. And they are ‘just kids’. I would pay for some of these pieces.

I am hunting down and abducting every last one of these 300 or so child artists to be used as the first generation of comrades in my pilot indoctrination programme that will groom youth for the purpose of a revolution of world transformation powered by love. Monotonous Complacency: Beware.

I’ve been thinking way too much about my beloved Maoists these days.

Sorry for the glare- most of the art is outdoors, so it’s covered in plastic. The crooked picture taking can be attributed to my innate spastic nature and/or excitement over seeing this art and having a camera in hand.