Inexistence of Mundanity

My name is Zoe Booth and this will be my fifth year traveling with Children’s Global Alliance. I began my journey with CGA at 13 years old when I traveled to Cambodia. This trip forced me to realize that not everyone has the luxury of living a life the way I do. There are millions of people who surmount countless obstacles to survive to see the next day. It made me much more appreciative for everyone and everything I have. This trip instilled in me a sense of responsibility to help others that has carried me through trips to Tanzania, Morocco, and Nepal with Children’s Global Alliance. In these countries we help teach English and work to instill hope in the children. We show them that someone cares and that we believe they have the potential to be something great, which is important because that reassurance is not given in many of their households. This year I am traveling to Nepal again as a student mentor. This means that I set an example for the other student volunteers I am traveling with and am the person they can reach out to when they need help lesson planning, blogging, fundraising, or mentally preparing for the trip.

Last summer, the “Second a Day” app allowed my best friend to take a one-second video clip every single day of our summer and combine them into a 2 minute video which filled my heart (and tear ducts), even through the 76th time watching it. My appreciation for this life grew stronger as each image flashed across the screen. I saw high mountain peaks, the reflection of sunrise on a still lake, my friends feasting on chocolate chip waffles. The background sang of rivers rushing by, music from Red Rocks concerts, the crackle of a fire, and belly laughs--a direct result of my display of uncoordinated dance moves. The video clips only lasted a second each, but their collection told a whole story.

I had this idealistic version of a video I could create that would capture my favorite parts of my world- Mr. Dupree passionately explaining how wild and wonderful the process of photosynthesis is, the sound a soccer ball makes hitting the back of the net, my mom leading me up a 14er, discussing the importance of creating a poem that has the power to move an audience, doing overspeeds with the boys at hockey practice, and standing in front of a chalkboard in classroom filled with students who so badly want to learn about adjectives.

I decided I would start this video the day I left for Nepal. But the minute I met my first student in class four, the video-making process became impossible. I wanted all of their faces to be included in my story. It wouldn't be complete without the dance moves we created to remember the different parts of a plant’s life cycle and the pictures the students drew to contrast area with volume and footage of them planting seeds in plastic bottles to help reduce the air pollution we were learning about.

I recognized this feeling immediately but didn’t fully understand it until I was welcomed into one of my student’s home. During this home visit, I came to understand how detrimental the 2015 earthquakes had been on the entire Dattatreya Square community. It dawned on me that the bricks they used to play musical chairs weren’t parts of construction sites, they were a parts of the millions of buildings that crumbled to the ground. The cracks in the wall next to the bed where I slept wasn’t one that had appeared gradually, it came when the ground shook so violently that the foundation was tested.

The people I was working with in Nepal made every second worth living in because they knew all too well that everything can be taken away in an instant. The common practice of living fully in the present was the reason it was impossible for me to pick which “second” was important to include; everyone lived as if each moment was the most important moment they’d ever have.

This year I am traveling back to Nepal with Children’s Global Alliance because I want to once again to be reminded that it is not only scarce and spectacular moments that are worth capturing, every moment is significant. In addition to wanting to experience the culture once again, I cannot wait to be reunited with the students I worked with last year. I am thrilled to see how their English has progressed and how time hasn’t weakend, rather strengthened our relationship as we both anxiously anticipate more time with one another.

Learning about love

Hugging the children goodbye leaves me with the most contradicting emotions I have ever experienced. Since October, I have been looking forward to meeting these students and have known the past two weeks would change my life. Before this trip my life felt whole and I felt complete. After coming to Bhaktapur and meeting these kids, I’ve realized that I could not have possibly been whole before all of this. I was missing so many bonds and not giving or receiving near enough love. Every waking second of this trip has been spent thinking about or executing different, new ways to make the lives of these children a little bit better. My life has been entirely devoted to this class of 19 students whom I have grown to love. I have taught them about the importance of Women’s Rights, the negative impacts of pollution, and the ways we can work to prevent diseases. I have learned about their beautiful religion, their unique manners, and their rice planting season. I care so deeply about every individual and want their futures to be better than right now. I’m here to show them that they are important and loved and that education will give them a chance to make that brighter future a possibility. We have developed this bond that will never disappear and it makes me feel so full, but at the same time I feel like there is something missing. Now that I have left the school completely and parted ways with all of the students, it’s harder to breathe, and think, and walk, knowing that I will probably never see their wonderful faces again. The pain of leaving is only made bearable by the reality that I am so lucky to have created connections with these people that are so difficult to leave. I feel very grateful to have people in Nepal to miss.

I can only hope I taught my class a percentage of what they helped me learn. Not only did they teach me so much about this world, they taught me about myself as well. They pushed me to leave my comfort zone and try entirely new methods of teaching. They helped me understand the power and effectiveness of student-led learning. These children made me feel worthy of all the love they were giving me and reminded me that curiosity is essential to those that truly want to learn.

The country of Nepal and the students of Lisha School will forever have my heart.

Selfless

Expressing the beauty I have witnessed in the Nepalese people is near impossible because it is not the words they speak, but the way they speak them. It is not what they do, but how they do it. When I watched the young boy who welcomed us into his home offer the last bite of his egg to his brother before taking it for himself, I felt like I understood his values. He and his family warmly embraced foreigners into their home and shared food, stories, and smiles which gave me further insight into the culture of Nepal. Even though the home shared by four people occupied a space barely the size of my bedroom, the people in it wanted to give us everything they had.  The mother kindly cooked us eggs and offered us a traditional dish called Kurd. The family struggles every day to purchase enough food to survive, and even so, they were willing to share their hard earned necessities with strangers.

This family and this country is made up of people who are wise and generous. They share all that they have, even when it is most precious.

An amazing woman who has been helping to guide us around the city of Bhaktapur shared with us one of the most important moments she will ever experience. Samriddhi invited the entire Children’s Global Alliance team to her brother’s wedding. She spent the entire evening showing us around the incredible event. She took time out of her life during such an important moment to share it with others. She demonstrated the level of selflessness which exists throughout Nepal. Samriddhi waited until we arrived and ate dinner with us, she spent this monumental experience catering to the needs of people she has known less than a week. This wedding was an arranged marriage and an opportunity for all of the family members to get to know each other. When we were introduced to the bride she offered us hazel nuts to represent the relationship we formed and its ability to grow. We each got 4 nuts because we didn’t know the bride, but the stronger the relationship was, the more people were offered. This was a very impactful symbol to me because it made me realize that it is not the social status or appearance of guests that makes them more important, it is truly the bonds which exist between people.  All of the guests at the wedding were very friendly and welcoming of a group of people so different from them. They were not judgmental of our group and made me feel like I belonged everywhere I went.  

The people of Nepal have deepened my understanding that no matter how little you might have, you can always share it with others. I will carry these lessons with me always. When I have guests in my home I will work to make them feel as comfortable and cared for as the families in Nepal have made me feel. Like Samriddhi, I will try to share the most special moments with others because everyone deserves to experience life’s greatest events.

Autotrophic

I stand at the front of a classroom of twenty five 11-year olds and their confusion is evident to me through their furrowed brows and turned up lips. I remind myself not to panic, remember that autotrophic is a big word, English is a hard language, and my accent is one they very rarely hear. I smile and ask the question in a more simple way, “Class 4, do plants have mouths?” Their perplexion turns to giggles as they deny my rather silly question. Feeling more relieved, I explain that because plants don’t have mouths, they cannot eat food and must make their own. This characteristic is why plants are classified as autotrophic. While all animals (and fungi) need to eat other organisms in order survive, and are classified as heterotrophic. As class 4 came to understand these words, they began to mean something deeper to me.

Learning about life in a classroom is easy. You are told the things you need to have in order to survive- things like food. But learning about life outside of the classroom is harder because you have to figure it out for yourself. I have discovered that happiness is most essential to my personal survival. The students I am teaching and learning from in Nepal are like the autotrophic organisms. They make their own happiness, even in the most challenging circumstances. The natural disaster that shook all of Bhaktapur in 2015 has left the city broken. Bricks on the ground are uneven, homes lay crumbled on streets, and buildings remained cracked. The children do not look at the reminders of the earthquake and feel terrified or upset by the past. Instead, they embrace the moments we have right now. They use remnants from destroyed buildings as nets in table tennis. They play musical chairs with bricks that once supported a building. The students are excited to dig through piles of structure remains to pick up trash with us. These children live in the present in a way I have never seen before, because they know more than anyone how much can be destroyed in a single instant.

I want to stray away from the heterotrophic way of life, where I depend on outside sources to fuel my joy. In the past I have found myself relying on objects or other people’s actions to satisfy me. The way of life in Nepal has shown me that this is insufficient; I have been shown that only I have control over the way I am feeling. I have been inspired to search for joy, not because of the things I have, but because of the moments I am in. Every moment in life is worth being present for and worth truly living in. I want to strive to be like my friends here in Nepal. Rather than simply existing, I have been inspired to become more aware of my surroundings and search for joy in every crack of this earth. I want to be like an autotrophic organism that can thrive in even the harshest environments.

Reducing Poverty

As of 2017, 1 billion children live in poverty and 22,000 die annually because of their conditions. Every day, almost 2,000 children die from diseases linked to unsafe water and lack of basic sanitation. More than 100 million children under age 5 are undernourished and underweight, which contributes to 45 percent of all infant deaths.

And behind every statistic is a person. An individual with value and potential, with feelings and aspirations, a person that deserves more than they have been granted. I know because I have seen it; I have looked into the eyes of a starving boy and felt bone much too close to skin on a little girl’s hand. The effects of poverty are all too real and widespread, but actions can be taken to aide in its termination.

Increased access to education would contribute to reducing poverty. An understanding of basic skills such as reading, writing, and simple math will give children more opportunities in life. Some of these opportunities include better employment, better health, and potentially the ability to participate in the political process. Additionally, education can help save lives. It has the potential to prevent maternal and infant mortality by helping women recognize danger signs, seek care and make sure health workers are present at births. Educated women statistically have less children, which increases the likelihood the family will be able to provide for all members. Increased understanding of health and sanitation will help people prevent themselves and their families against illnesses. The most promising thing about increased access to learning, though, is that it can end entire cycles of poverty. Because of the way our economic systems operate, those who are born poor tend to stay poor their whole lives. Through the exploitation of an education system, any individual has the potential to study and work their way out of impoverishment. This will not only have positive impacts on that individual, but also their family as well. Children of educated parents are more likely to become educated themselves. Therefore that one individual who worked their way out of poverty broke the cycle for their whole family.

In Nepal, I will be working to provide impoverished children with a quality education that will be helpful to breaking the cycle of poverty for their families. This is why it is so important for me to be prepared to teach any lesson to the best of my ability because the work I am doing truly has the potential to impact the students lives and possibly even the lives of their children.

Indestructible

I had always felt indestructible. Life was routine and comfortable. I would wake up on the same mat every morning, get dressed in one of my few outfits, and go to school at the same place surrounded by the same kids. Then I would come home and help my father cut stone until nightfall, when my two younger sisters and I would aid my mother in her gracious efforts to put delicious food on the table. Day after day, year after year, my life was predictable and I felt secure. But in a single instant, everything vanished and I realized how wrong I had assumed this life would be lived.

I was on my way home from the market when the ground began to shake beneath my feet and I was slammed head-first against the street. I don’t remember hitting the ground or hearing the buildings crash around me. All I remember is waking up hours later, feeling pain on every inch of my body. The impact of the cement had knocked me out and the debris from surrounding buildings had crashed onto my legs and back. The pain in my body was familiar and the pounding in my head was bearable. It was the ache in my heart told me that this injury was unlike any other I had experienced. Where is my family? My heart felt empty. My body knew something my brain didn’t want to accept.

I struggled to my feet but once I was on them I broke out into a full sprint. It was loud at first, but with each stride the sirens became quieter and the screams seemed more distant. I ran faster than I have ever run for almost a mile until I rounded the corner where my house once stood. The edges of my vision were black from all the physical exertion and I could hardly hear over the pounding of my own heart. The mass of bricks and rubble that used to stand as a home, sucked the remaining air from my weakening lungs. It took every ounce of my strength to refrain from collapsing with the rest of the world.

I swallowed my tears and all emotions with them. I had to find my family- no fear, no pain, no heartbreak- only courage. Searching so desperately for any sign of life, I began moving bricks aside and lifting the panels that used to function as our roof. After thirty seconds that felt like eternity, absolutely nothing stood out. But when I saw it, I wished I hadn’t. I wanted to wake up from this nightmare. This couldn’t be happening, not to them, not to me. Her purple hand stuck out under the mass of wall remains. I paused and thought the emotions were going to take over again, but only for a moment before I shut them out. Continuing was my only option; I shoved everything off of my baby sister and didn’t allow myself to feel anything when I realized she wasn’t alone. On her right side was my other sister and in front of her my mother. In that moment I didn't want to process it. Continue, continue I told myself. I had to find my father. I scoured every inch around my mother and sisters, but to no avail. It was only when I retraced my steps to where I had entered the home that I found him. I didn't recognize it the first time because I wasn't looking for body so close to undamaged ground and he had been completely covered by the rubble from our door and window.

I snapped. It was like waking up all over again. My senses returned all at once and the stench of destruction filled my lungs. The sirens which I had been able to block out were now blaring and screams ripped through the streets. My vision was blurry and my body felt as if were made of stone. I couldn’t move anymore. Where would I even go? I felt jealous of my family because they were all together. I was forever alone. My father was so close to the door. Why didn’t he make it? Why couldn’t they have been outside when it started? Who controls these things? If they were in a different room, would they have made it? If I didn’t fall could I have saved them? What if I left for the market 10 minutes earlier? Or 10 minutes later?

These are things I will never know or have the power to understand, but I know that each moment is worth enjoying because nothing in this world is guaranteed and no one is indestructible.

This anecdote was written from the perspective of a boy living in Nepal during the earthquakes in April of 2015. When researching this country the most surprising information to me was how devastating these earthquakes really were. I remember reading about them online and hearing stories in the news, but it wasn't until I dug deeper into my research that I was able to understand the effects this disaster had on the country and all of its citizens.

A powerful earthquake struck in the morning of morning of April 25 2015, between the capital city of Kathmandu and another city, Pokhara.The earthquake had a magnitude of 7.8 - which means it was very strong - and tremors could even be felt in the nearby countries of Pakistan, Bangladesh and India. A second strong earthquake with a magnitude 7.3, hit eastern Nepal, near Mount Everest on 12 May 2015. More than 100 people were killed and thousands more injured. Many of the country's historic sites were severely damaged, including temples and monuments. Cumulatively almost 9,000 people died while 22,000 people were injured.

Even though statistically these earthquakes directly impacted 31,000 citizens, in reality each and every person in Nepal has been impacted by this natural disaster. Over 800,000 buildings were destroyed and the rebuilding process is very difficult because Nepal remains one of the poorest countries in the world. The overall damage is estimated to be at about $10 billion, according to the Nepal government. This number is hard for me to comprehend but in perspective it is nearly half of Nepal’s gross domestic product (GDP) of $19.2 billion. Prior to the earthquakes Nepal was set on a good track of moving from a “less developed country” to a “developing country” though theses disasters served as huge setbacks and forced the government to invest money into reconstruction rather than further developments.

My understanding of the devastation which still surrounds this country has helped me understand what kind of impact I will be striving for this summer. I want to ignite hope in the hearts of those I will be surrounded by and in order to do that I need to be able to create relationships with the students that are a good balance of professional and personal. In the past, I have struggled to become extremely close to the students in a classroom setting because it was always more important to me that they understood the material rather than feel a friendship.  Now I know that if a loving bond is created, in or out of the classroom, the eagerness both for me to teach and them to learn will prosper. Further, the students whose families and world’s have been impacted by this recent devastation, can understand that they are not alone in their struggle to recover and there are people everywhere who want them to succeed and are willing to put in the effort to help it happen.

This goal is very important to me because over the past summer and fall semester I feel like I have gained the maturity to become more open to new and different forms of relationships, without the fear of getting too close. I used to be afraid to open up to others and allow them to do the same to me because I didn't want to have the power to hurt anyone nor let them have the power to hurt me. This year, I have learned that if I don't open up to others, I am hurting myself and them little bits at a time. I now know that it does not make a person weak to become vulnerable with others. I believe this newfound truth will allow me to create stronger friendships with the students I will be teaching and they can more deeply understand how much I care about not just their learning, but their well-being.