And the World Spins Madly On

Class 6 Camping

This is Katie's best "I'm pleased with myself" face.

The world's only functioning matriarchy: Class 6A

Chris, just off a 12 day meditation retreat

You decide if we're serious...

Denise Casey

Hey gang. When I first received my placement here in Nepal almost two years ago I had to make sure I knew where it was on the map. I had to read up on the recent civil wars and the then-current turmoil. The JVI Office reassured me that things were safe enough; they were keeping an eye on it while Chris Wall, our Chris, lived through it. He, like the country itself, was no more than letters on a page, ideas in my head… fuzzy ideas at best.

Elections here are scheduled for next week and, this time, will probably be carried out. For the first time in years, there’s real potential for growth, and obviously, quite a risk. But back then, I was packing up my things at IU while hundreds of years of history was culminating in riots on the streets I now call home. And now this country and this person I’ve come to love are moving on, facing change.

About three months ago on a Grammar term exam, I placed a short quote from Les Miserables at the end to see if the kids had any thoughts on it. "Write as much as you can!!!" In short, they didn’t. I learned my lesson. But before the year ended, Abinav of class 5B shuffled up to me before the bell and said, "Miss…. about that quote…" and shoved a scrap of paper into my hand. It had been three months earlier so I was clueless until I read it at break time; it read…

"The spirit is a garden."
"Miss, the spirit is a garden because it never says the same. Birds come, make their nests, lay eggs, and when the eggs hatch, they fly away. During the time they’re here, they pick up flowers, ruin some of the plants and do many kinds of stuff. So Miss, in a soul, sorrow or happiness comes, changes things, and goes away."

Chris changed a lot of things while he was here... the color of the walls in our house, the number of saplings in our yard, the environmental awareness of 46 5th graders, the trajectory of his own life, and the shaping of our experience here. He taught me martial arts and how to speak Nepali. He taught me how to adjust in the beginning and learn to feel the people I could no longer see every day, and how to become whole again after such a loss. Now he’s no longer just letters on a page. He’s Chris… the guy who lost his camera break dancing on his birthday and started drawing the things he didn’t want to forget, the guy who plants mango trees in the winter to his own whistling tune of "You Are My Sunshine." He’s the guy who wore every single article of clothing he had on the plane yesterday because his luggage was over the weight limit. We put our roommate in a taxi and sent him on to the airport, then China, then home. But we said goodbye to more than a roommate… to our "dhai"—our older brother, our bright-eyed revolutionary, our constant gardener.

We'll tread water in his absence for a while, and like the people of Nepal on the brink of enormous change, we'll pray for peace... and some firm footing. I'll keep everyone posted as the next couple of weeks unravel; let's hope for the best for the people of this country. Until next time --Sar

P.S. In case anyone was wondering, the weight limit for luggage on China Air was 20kg, so Chris wore: 2 pairs of socks, boots, 2 pairs of boxers, 3 pairs of pants, 2 t shirts, 2 dress shirts, a suit vest, a peacoat, a rain jacket, and a poofy North Face. He brought an empty laundry bag and stripped on the plane.