The Nepal Photography Ethics Omnibus

I have a confession to make: buying a camera, for me, may have been a mistake. Looking at my recent contributions, or more appropriately, lack thereof, to this journal of sorts, I see a growing trend. Rather than exercising my writer’s brain and painting a picture of linguistics and emotion, I’ve been quite lax in my willingness to simply compile a pictoral history of my time here in Nepal. This may not be a problem for those of you who are happy to be visual learners, but it’s provided a hidden angst for me: I have a lot on my mind and heart, and photographs simply don’t effectively capture a good portion of the things I’d like to express. Plus, Jason’s revealed proof to me that I am incapable of taking a serious picture – Mom, you were right.

Regardless, during our return trip from Chitwan (you can read a good synopsis of it on Jason’s blog located here: www.jasoninnepal.blogspot.com) , I devoted myself to reading Alex Garland’s trekking opus The Beach. Yup, it got made into a crappy Leonardo DiCaprio movie, but it’s a compelling book nonetheless, and the deeper I got into it, I kept laughing internally at the narrator’s keen insights into international travel, specifically here in South Asia (the tale takes place in Thailand). Anyway, the main character makes this comment about how when he travels, he never takes a camera with him because whenever he records a journey in photographic form, he inevitably comes to a point where the only memories he can drudge up of the entire experience are those captured in the pictures.

This might seem obtuse, but if you’re anything like me, taking pictures on vacations or outings is often times an afterthought. I’m wandering through a botanical garden or throwing a Frisbee at the lake, on the verge of leaving, when suddenly I’m struck with this frantic urge of “Oh-Jenga! SomebodysgottatakeaphotoforthesakeofposterityorI’llneverbeabletoprovetomyselfthatthesefriendsandthisplacewerereal.” Or something anxious and furious in that same vein. I fight that kind of internal loneliness that only seems to surface when I’m in a crowded room full of laughing, joyful people; suddenly, I’m struck with this attack on my ego and my heart that threatens that none of this, none of me is real, and it staggers me every time. So when I look at photos of holiday celebrations with family, high school bus trips to the Harvard campus, or collages of my summer spent in the ghettos of south Chicago, I’m wracked with the guilt of trying to recall, “Did I take this picture because it was meaningful to me, or simply because I felt the urge to take a picture?” I simply can’t remember, and it drains me trying to reminisce over whether or not my memories of people and places are anchored in the truth of the moment in which they took place, or if I’m attempting to rewrite my life experiences to provide insulation from pain.

The sheer barrage of photos I’ve taken and received from co-volunteers in Nepal is overwhelming. Seriously, I have something like 3000 on my computer, and the decision process of posting them online is excrutiating. Do I post:

a) photos of myself, marking the gradual transition from beer-drinking office employee to weathered, pseudo-bearded international missionary

b) photos of only the orphaned kiddos, eventually succumbing to favoritism and only
revealing those children with whom I spend the majority of my time, thus robbing you of the fullness of how amazing the children at CWC truly are

c) photos of what I think and hope captures the essence of Nepal, i.e. architecture,
mountains, lepers, homeless children, Hindu shrines, street dogs, etc., thus capturing the experience, but at the same time trivializing the people by converting them into a brochure designed to evoke an emotional response from you and myself

These are the things I wrestle with, all because of this stupid Canon IXUS 65. Silly, perhaps, but I’ve always had that tendency to over-analyze to the point of non-action. So here’s the deal: I’ll continue to post photos here, but I need to write, and by that I don’t mean venting, and I don’t mean putting together a travelogue. I hate the feeling of needing to have some sort of result or activity to report to America as proof that I’m worthy of attention, when in fact I spend most of my time reading books on the roof or pouring myself into thought over games of Solitaire on my laptop (I tried to delete it, but it’s impossible…seriously). After all, my ministry target is in school for seven hours a day, and unlike home, I can’t just drive to Best Buy or Chez Newell every time things get boring.

So, seeing as how I’ve managed to bore you to death by giving you a thoroughly wordy treatise on photography, blogography, and all things inbetween, let me simplify: I’m going to revert back to making blog posts at least once a week, cutting back on the number of photos a bit, and writing about the things I really want to write about. I’ve got this burning urge to just share about the gospel, about what you can learn about Jesus through pilo, about Nepali transportation, food, culture, and about the problems facing Westerners in international missions and aide work (because there are a lot of them). Here’s a hint on that last one: the American way is NOT the best way, as I’m finding out consistently.

One ridiculous prayer request before I log off: my beloved Chacos are on the verge of falling apart. I bought them my freshman year of college, 7 years ago now, and I never imagined they’d crap out on me. Regardless, a big split opened up in the sole where the toe strap cuts across underneath my foot, and I really, really want them to make it back to America. So as dumb as this sounds, pray for my sandals…I hate wearing socks and shoes.

Expect more from me soon. For now, here’s a picture of me running from a rhinoceros.

More Christmas Pics

Here, you can see the full extension of my Santa hat.
Jason spent the whole night telling me how much I
Looked like Will Ferrell in that movie “Elf.”
Is that good or bad?

Lokendra and Dipesh kick off the dance party that followed dinner.
This is the most animated I have ever seen Dipesh, whom
Jason often describes as “an accountant.”

CWC in all its illuminated splendor.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, Jason and I decided to tone down
our nightly devotional times and celebrate Advent with the children.
Every night, we read scripture and sang Christmas hymns by candlelight.
This picture is a collage of images taken during those devo times
that I thought captured the mood. At least it looks cool.

Come On! Let's Boogey to the Elf Dance!

For those of you who are results-oriented,
Jason raised money to give the kids Christmas gifts.
That is a LOT of red and green wrapping paper.

Ground zero on Christmas morning.
Normally I hate shots of people opening their gifts, as this is often
the only memory captured in the vast majority of Greenwald holiday photos,
but I had to add this one.
That Spiderman doll is nearly as big as Bijay is!

After the carnage, I took a nap with the doll
our Austrailian friend Renee bought me.
The current time? 5:45 in the morning.
Mom? Dad? I’m sorry for each and every Christmas
I woke you up before sunrise.

The Christmas celebration at Calvary Church.
It’s pretty common in a Nepali church for people just to wander around
behind the stage while the pastor is speaking,
or for little kids just to run loose, as is evidenced by the little guy in the sport coat just aimlessly standing around in front of us.

It's Christmas (in January)! Let's Be Glad!

Yup, I know I said I'd post more frequently some time back, but Jason and I decided to ring in 2007 with a much needed vacation to Chitwan National Park, which kept me away from a computer for over a week. So much to update you on, and so precious little time and clarity of mind to devote to it all.

Seeing as how January is officially half over, at least on my half of the globe, what better time could I choose to rave about Christmas in Nepal? This may actually be a good thing, as some of you may still have your trees and lights up. Don't read that as a joke, as a few years back, I came home from Christmas break around the 20th of January to find that my roommates (Jason and Taylor Wood) still hadn't thrown away our 7 ft tall Alleuvian Fir/raccoon retirement community. I think nearly all the needles had fallen out, but the decorations and lights were all still on the tree. What centerpiece could better express the feeling of "We're all in our mid-20's and too busy to bother with trifles like fire hazards."

But I'm off on a tangent here, AGAIN, aren't I? Christmas...in Nepal...right?

Let me get straight to the point: Christmas in South Asia is both a blessing and a lament, and I loved it for both reasons. To those here who are Christians, it is a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, a day of joy spent in worship and feasting, untainted by the commercialism and Pokemonism that drives the holiday back in the west. Read that as: NO GIFT-GIVING. To everybody else on the continent, Christmas is....Monday. Go to work. Drink tea. Go home to your family. Eat rice. Go to bed. Etc...

So while it was a bit depressing to see so many people out and about, oblivious of what Christmas means to so many millions of others around the world, I had a blast at the celebration held at Calvary Church, the spiritual body which includes our children's home in its body. We sang songs all day, or at least the kids did -- Jason and I just hummed along and pretended we weren't confused. I was the proud winner some sort of pinata game: participants pay 5 rupees and then take a blindfolded swing at a clay pot filled with candies. Having woken up at 5 a.m. to exchange gifts with the kids, I spent a good portion of the afternoon sipping on milk tea and napping out on the church lawn. And during the evening service, Jason and I led the CWC kids in a performance of a couple Western Christmas carols for the congregation.

But the best part my friends? Not Christmas, though it was fun (and highlighted with a spiritual possession that I'll be more than freaked out to tell you about if you email me and ask). I'm honest and conceited enough to admit that the highlight of the holidays for me was the Christmas party we threw in partial celebration of my 25th birthday. I can say with certainty that my Nepali birthday was without a doubt the best that I've ever experienced, due mainly to the fact that having been born on December 23rd makes it near impossible to celebrate -- somewhat difficult to be a glory-hog when you have to share the spotlight with the Saviour of the universe.

So I had my first legit birthday party in about 7 or 8 years, and it was a blast, complete with buffet line, bonfires, wine-in-a-box, cultural dancing, and a boombox blaring the Vengaboys. I'll let the photos speak for themselves

(l-r) Sonu, Dipa, Sushil, Sabita, and Gita
Sushil and Ishor played some Nepali Christmas carols for us,
while the girls spent most of the night trying to hide from my camera.
They don't look too shy here.

Some of the younger children crowd around the birthday cake.
We had to make sure it fed all 100 guests, so I got one that weighed 17 lbs.
What can I say, I like my chocolate.

(l-r) The bear, Rina (my "boss"), Umesh (towering over us all), Rajesh, and Yubrats
That goofy kid I'm clutching in front is Moses, Rina's apdopted lil' bro.
My santa hat is standing straight up because I was clever enough to stuff
a cardboard birthday hat underneath it. Awww, I'm so cute...

Laxmi (in the middle) performs a dance number with many of the older
girls set to the tune of a Nepali Christmas song.

Nabin (middle) is honestly the best dancer I've ever seen in person.
He spent weeks choreographing a routine for the boys to a Nepali folk song,
then threw in a bit with all the canes at the last minute.
Really cool to watch, and really fun. Great job guys.
PS. Note that half the guys aren't wearing shoes.
The temp was close to 34 degrees. Ouch.

Kathmandu "Fun" Park: Epilogue

Last photo for the day, I swear. For the best viewing experience (and because I neglected to consider posting all these pictures in reverse order so they'd appear chronologically), I recommend scrolling down to the post entitled "Kathmandu 'Fun' Park I." I mean, if you want to, that is. Far be it for me to impose my will on anything other than ant farms.

Anyway, this last photo kind've puts things into perspective for the day. I hope you'll understand.

When we took the boys to the momo restaurant after exiting the park, I noticed these homeless boys playing with a puppy underneath a bridge. Those bags you see them sitting on top of are full of garbage waiting to be picked up by the Kathmandu Public Works Dept. The boy on the right is wearing an empty coffee can as a hat. At one point, both of the boys were digging water bottles out of the sewage below to sip on the drops of water remaining at the bottom.

This is Nepal. This is the conundrum and the ghost that defines my every waking moment in this country: for every CWC orphan Jason and I clothe and feed, for every child we take out to dinner or teach to play volleyball, there are thousands wandering the streets, destitute and dying. These boys are discovering joy in the bottom of a trash dump a block away from the nicest shopping district in the city. Nobody stopped to help them or offer them food or drink, not even me. And despite the perceived good I am doing here, I am haunted by the faces of leprous children missing limbs, crippled men, and homeless women cradling their starving newborns whom I pass up and avoid each and every day. My deeds are as filthy rags before the throne of God, and I will someday be held accountable for my lack of compassion.

Pray for the poor of Nepal, for the homeless, for the kicked-aside, cast-out, unemployed, and undervalued. Pray for the leper, the tax collector, the brothel owner, the enslaved child prostitutes, and the government officials. Pray for the Hindu, the Buddhist, the Muslim, the tribal healers and witch doctors, the taxi drivers, and the hoteliers. Pray for the Christian missionaries and the local pastors. Pray for Jason and I. None of us are holy save for the salvation found through the death of Jesus Christ and the gift of the Holy Spirit, so pray that God would draw the nation of Nepal to Himself and redeem this broken land.

Pray for peace in the continued battle between the government of Nepal and the rebel Maoist forces, and for the citizens who are affected by the ignorance of both parties. Pray for Rina, for the safety of her baby in the final months of her prenancy, and for the salvation of her husband Santosh. Pray for my body and for Jason's heart. Pray for the spiritual growth, physical safety, and mental maturity of the 52 orphans who find sanctuary in the Children's Welfare Centre of Nepal. Pray for our laptops, guitar strings, sleeping bags, and warm showers. Pray against crab spiders, pilo, and computer viruses.

Pray for 2007 to be a year of unprecedented victory for the Nepali Church, and a year of awakening for American Christians: some of us have been sifting through the trash when we're just out of view of the true kingdom at hand for far too long. I love you all, and may you have a blessed New Year.

Bear out.

Kathmandu "Fun" Park VII: Fun Park in 3D

Man, this haunted house lived up to the terrifying exterior.
For weeks after our visit, I had nightmares about how much
Jason and I paid for kids to be spooked by paper towel
ghosts and black lights that didn't work.

We took all the kids to a small cafe for momos after leaving the park.
This smile took just about all the energy I had left at this point.

Yup, there were sheep wandering around in the middle of
downtown Kathmandu. The capital city of the country.
A block away from the king's palace.
And David loved 'em.

What trip to Kathmandu would be complete without
a GOAT riding around on top of a bus.
I love Nepal. Seriously.

Kathmandu "Fun" Park VI : Fun Park In Space

Lakpa and I celebrate surviving the bumper cars.
And apparently, an angel appears off to my left.

I convinced Birendra to ride with me on the
Tilt-a-Whirl one time.
I can't tell if he liked it or not.

Oh, we thought we were finished, but there was one ride left:
The Morbidly-Grinning Cater Pillar of Doom.

If you look carefully,you'll discover 3 reasons this photo is funny:
1) Jason chooses to lift his arms on a 2 mph caterpillar ride
2) My face, contorted with fear, resembles a chimpanzee
3) See the inflatable castle in the background? Wow. Wow. Wow.

Kathmandu "Fun" Park V : Son of Fun Park

Bumper cars...you knew they were inevitable, right?
Kumar essentially likes anything involving destruction.
Welcome to heaven little guy!

Jeez. Even when she's ramming into someone
at full speed, Sapana still manages to smile.
Too. Cute.

Pratap and Kerishma (foreground) brace for
impact with Bidhan and Amrita (background).
The girls were more excited about just
sitting in the cars than driving them,
so a bunch of the younger boys hopped in.
So much for women's lib.

I looooooooove the lighting in this photo.
Dorje just looks absotlutely beautiful.
I wish I was old enough to adopt. Or shave.

Kathmandu "Fun" Park IV : Fun Park Lives

Jason and the boys waiting on "Columbus' Boat" to
kick things into gear.
Let me be frank: I hate this ride.

I told you I hated this stupid boat.
One of the four people in this photo threw up.
A plate of dhal baat to whomever guesses first.

Sapana and Amrita screaming away onboard
the "Rock and Roull."
Nope, that was not a typo.

Look! Jason's having fun!!!!
(Now if only he'd let go of the bar)
All kidding aside, I think this is the ride that made everybody sick.
Sweet. Let's do it again!!!!

Kathmandu "Fun" Park III: Fun Park the 13th

Holy. Crap.
Sapana is the cutest little girl that ever lived. Evar.

BJ is in serious contention for second cutest child on earth.
He gets bonus points for riding the bike backwards.

I like photographing Rohan because he
has an inexhaustible facial library.
I don't even know what this one means...

David gives me photographic proof that
the yellow ducks are the WORST RIDE EVER.

Kathmandu "Fun" Park II

Om Prakesh, as I've mentioned in an earlier post, loves life.
He also happens to be the only child enjoying this giant swing ride.
Pratap, sitting next to him, looks absolutely terrified.
And don't even get me
started on how hard Jason cried on this ride.
Ridiculous...

Rabin mocking me by pretending to call the Hogs in this mini-Jeep.
He got his come-uppance on the pirate ship ride.
(you know, the one that swings back and forth like a pendelum?)
Never saw a kid puke like that before...

I told Bidhan to act excited while he was riding the motor bikes.
"Look excited" must translate into "ride backwards and catch flies with your mouth" in Nepali.

Lakpa shamelessly whips out the Bronco Buster manuever.
Since the bikes were immobile, he wasn't able to pull off a 720 Madonna Reverse-Air Trump Stump. Pity, cuz he was looking totally PIMPED OUT in his Ninja Turtles t-shirt.
Rock on Lakpa. Rock on...

Kathmandu "Fun" Park I

A month-long hiatus can be nearly as crippling to your readership as pilo can be to your backside, if this December has taught me anything. I’d like to firmly announce that Jason and I are, in fact, NOT dead, but in fact suffering post-Christmas-traumatic syndrome. Ten consecutive days of shopping and a Christmas celebration that involves waking up at 5 am to deal with demon possession are enough to do in any man I know (much less a bear). I’ll give a full written update later in the week, but for today, I’ve got a ton of pictures that have gone unposted partially because of sickness, and partially because Internet in the Kathmandu Valley is a punchline as opposed to a public service.

There are a vast number of stark differences between “This American Life” and “This Nepali Life,” as any guidebook or Wikipedia cultural reference point can attest to. Nepalis don’t have indoor heating, pedestrian protection laws, vehicle emissions standards, or Desperate Housewives. The Super Bowl isn’t even broadcast in this country! But for all of my yearnings for American customs, I’ve discovered that one concept transcends international borders: exam week. Well, that and the love story that is Titanic.

Nepali exam periods take place within a relatively approximate time period when compared with their Western counterparts, usually falling within the last week of November and the first week of December, with a second round scheduled on the cusp of summer. The difference is that everybody takes them: a seven year-old will test on computer literacy at the same time as a teenager, and from what I've seen, often get better scores. Schools in Nepal suck, period, and while I'm not ethno-arrogant enough to suggest changing them over to Western standards, something has to change in the educational system for this country to move forward: teachers grade on the basis of completion of assignments rather than understanding of materials, students aren't held accountable for plagerism or cheating, and according to the most recent figures I was able to find, only 14% of Nepalis above the age of 10 are literate. Thus, the tutoring aspect of the work Jason and I are doing here in the orphanage takes on a more deliberate and intentional tone: these children have to learn if they are to have any future at all.

So somberness aside, examination week (shorten it to "exam" and get corrected by 50 orphans) was surprisingly a refreshing time for both us and the kids. They tested from 9-11 each morning, came home and watched the required 4 hours of cartoons and hindi suspense movies, and then studied all night. Overall, the kids did very well on their tests, and as a reward, Jason and I agree to hire a bus and take the youngest of the orphans into the city for a visit to Kathmandu's only amusement park as a reward for their hard work. What follows is a pictoral history of the day...

This is Kathmandu Fun Park. Just try and hold back your enthusiasm.
That girl picnicking in the foreground certainly is...

The boys jockeying for position in the ticket line.
Those actually looking at the camera from left to right:
Kumar (who broke a food cart before we even got into the park),
Bhidan, Dorje, David, Pratap, Lakpa, and Naresh (getting his armband at the counter)

Is it some sort of contractual obligation that every amusement park in the world have some sort of "Ride the Big Dopey Yellow Duck" ride? The way the ducks' eyes are painted on, I can't tell if they're gazing heavenward in fear of a nuclear holocaust, or if they're in a drug-induced trance. Either way, I wasn't allowed to ride the ducks. Jerks.

Bumper cars, fairly self-evident. But look at all the scrapes and dents in these things, not to neglect the fair amount of dirt settled on them. Makes you wonder if Kathmandu is actually the future site of the Terrordome from that old Mad Max movie...