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| The view from Atalin back towards Kathmandu Valley |
Today I cycled up to Khadkagaon searching for a route to meet up with another track that follows the mountain contours from Atalin. Both of these villages look north from very steep land about 400m above the Kathmandu Valley. Much of this land is too steep to work and is still densely wooded. The map I use has insufficient detail to ever be certain of my true location, thus route finding is often a problem. I found myself in Atalin only because of a wrong turn on a ride a few days ago. It was a hard climb, but there are wonderful views back across the valley from here. The track however became smaller and smaller until I was riding no more than a goat trail, and clearly going the wrong way. Faced with the choice of diving off into the jungle or retracing my route back to a known point, I opted for the latter.
When I say villages, they are in fact more like a collection of a few small farm dwellings scattered around the hillside. Despite being only a one hour ride from the outskirts of the city, we are at least a hundred years behind in lifestyle. Houses are simple mud/stone constructions, most now have tile or tin roofs, but the older ones still are thatched. There are buffalo, goats, sheep and chickens in the yard, and maize cobs, wheat and bright red chilies spread out on canvases drying in the sun. Ladies scrub away at pots & pans or washing in the stream, or use shallow bowls next to the village water spout. Sometimes these are free running, other times there is a hand pump. The men helpfully sit and watch; no doubt they have their uses!
A white face on a bright red bicycle in these parts is a source of much interest, if only I could understand the locals sing-song Nepali. I can hear the difference in their intonation compared with the city folk, but have no clue what they are saying. One can only smile and try to make a conversation from their expressions and mannerisms. From young children to old grannies, they are without exception friendly and welcoming.
Some seem genuinely surprised that I manage to ride up some of these inclines, others make noises that could easily be interpreted as ‘why would anyone want to cycle up here, must be a bit mad?’
Anyway, this day, I found my limit on a long particularly steep and slippery path, and for the first time I had to get off and walk!! The path was so slippery that even walking was tricky; I abandoned this quest and sat for a breather. So imagine, sitting on a clump of grass half way up a very steep hill that forms part of the Kathmandu Valley Rim, just 50m below virgin forest, looking down on the valley below, in a very rustic ‘earthy’ environment, and what should I see……………..a crab !
Honestly. I thought crabs lived by the sea! If someone had said, what’s the last thing you would expect to see here, a crab might have come to mind. I looked, and wondered. Nepal has no coast line. We are nowhere near the sea, not even if it had been carried by an eagle; we are still nowhere near the sea. There is no way this could get here unless it lives here, thus there must be such a thing as a freshwater crab, and there is. It turns out also, that the locals eat them, and surprise surprise, when poorly cooked can transmit a very serious parasitic infection, treatable with only one drug, which is currently not available in Nepal!
Our local corner shop is run by a little Newari man. He is about 5ft 1”, slim and neat and wears a baseball cap, always. In his shop one can buy beaten rice, soap, sweets, flour, water and small bottles of bad local whisky. Just as much of a surprise as finding a crab in the hills, I discovered our man teaches philosophy during the day. Sometimes I go and chat to him and we discuss such things as the process of making beaten rice, and Hindu Mythology.
He has a typical philosopher’s view of the world and life. “We come in to this world with nothing; we leave with nothing, so why get worried about material belongings when we’re here”, he questions? We talked about Osho; a Nepali meditation leader (now deceased), who has started many meditation centres in Nepal and has many words of wisdom to offer his followers. Osho lost all credibility with me when he published an article professing to ‘trash’ Darwin’s theories on evolution. The article was, by any educated man’s perspective, childish and ill informed; his reasoning coming from a Christian creationist perspective. I don’t spend much time worrying about what others choose to believe, but as we were talking about it, the evidence these days for evolution rather outweighs the evidence for creationism. Our shop keeping philosopher agreed and used the phrase, ‘It’s like the frog in the well’. To the frog, the world IS the well.
I often wonder what it must be like to be a tiny ground crawling insect or a beetle in a well, or even a crab in the forest; their worlds so restricted compared with our ‘fly to another continent in 5 hours’ world.
In some ways the people that live in these hills are like the frog in the well, but only by virtue of the fact that they have grown up in that world. They have to hand most of what they need to survive. They have water, animals, shelter and a place to grow their food. As a community they are as close to self sufficient as we can be. They remain in their well, but are able to leave it at will.
By comparison, the Osho’s of this world choose to move out of the well and encourage followers to open their minds to the world outside. Osho teaches following your heart and intended path in life, unrestricted by the opinions of others. By virtue of the fact that followers are there repeatedly however, seems to do the opposite of what he teachings. Another view on this situation is the followers are taught not to be ‘frogs’, by someone who is a ‘frog’. That is, still believing in the creationist idea when the evidence for evolution is overwhelming. Not wanting to recognise the world from any other perspective than from the inside their own well.
Followers blindly believe the teachings, and in doing so become ‘frogs’ themselves. One frog spawns another. Ensuring they remain ‘frogs’, obstinately dismissive of what lies outside.
Back in the hills, the crab is restricted in its worldliness by virtue of its size, but still is able to go where ever it can. Its horizons limited by biology. The crab is at home in its own world even if we find it contrary to our expectations. A frog only finds its way into a well be accident and spends the rest of its life trying to get out to answer the night time calls of potential partners in the nearby pond. It is unlikely to start a colony unless another willing mate should fall in too.
Our philosophizing shop keeper wonders why people can’t see they are frogs. Why they still blindly follow books written two thousand years ago, at a time when the world was a very different place. He then switches the subject back to the mountains, and how so many villagers still practice tantra mantra, natural healing and witchcraft.
Everyone’s view of the world is different, shaped by upbringing, culture, religion, environment and education. I always think of the ending to MIB II, when ‘J’ thinks he’s got a handle on everything, and ‘K’ opens the door that says ‘Don’t Open’, to find that their whole world is actually just a locker in bank of lockers, in another world full of weird alien monsters.
We have to stick our heads over the well wall, in order to see what’s outside before we can make any judgment on it.
I’m not sure I have the legs to try and connect these two routes. Maybe I will have to try not to get lost somewhere else instead.
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