Male Bonding: Part Deux

Good evening Web Wanderers,

Today was by all accounts a "typical" day here in Nepal, but those are exactly the days that teach the life lessons I came to Nepal to learn.

From left to right we have Kancha (5), Maila (8), and Sandesh (10), the three sons of the cook didi, Dawn Kumari. I don't know Dawn's story, nor do I dare ask, but she's a single mom raising three *very* spirited young men. As she works her tail off caring for the 36 children in the first hostel, her boys are always the first to greet us at the gate each morning when we arrive to spend a few minutes with the children before walking them to school.

I never really gave the importance of their greetings each morning much thought until today. I don't know what it was about today in particular, but I reckon it must have been the look in the boys' eyes that finally tipped me off that they weren't simply rambuncious young boys who saw a living jungle gym, but rather desperate for male attention.

When we first met Kancha, both Fiona and I thought his name was Bipen. Each morning we would greet him, and he would complain insistently about something in Nepali that neither of us could understand. It was more than a week into our stay that somebody finally heard his protests and informed us that his name was in fact Kancha. But despite our complete lack of intelligence, he never held it against me, and spent any time he could hugging me, teasing me to pick him up, or simply pushing other kids away so that he could cuddle in by my side.

Maila is the shy one of the three. He takes a backseat to Kancha, patiently waiting his turn, should Kancha be distracted long enough to take his place on the Super Bounce Machine (The boys like to pretend they're jumping while I lift them high above my head.) Never to be seen with a frown, each morning begins with, "I love you, Father."

Sandesh is the generous soul of the three. While he is very happy to hold my hand and play with me like the others, he also seems aware that his brothers need the time with me as well. Every day since we've arrived, Sandesh has presented us with a present. It is usually a paper airplane, but plastic toy soldiers and heat seeking missiles off a long broken helicopter have also found their way into our pockets. We try to insist that he take them back, but he is adamant that we MUST keep his gift.

And so it dawned on me that these young boys need my attention just as much as the older ones. Sure our conversations are in words rather than sentences, and I surely cannot impart life wisdom on them, but just having a man pick them up, rough house with them, and then tell them that he loves them has just as much impact as affirming the older boys dreams. Seeing me not hitting girls, or waiting my turn in the food line are just as important of life lessons. Each lesson doesn't have to be a philosophical vision of the world... Sometimes the most important lessons are those where they simply mimic your actions until they become habits of their own.

In the end, I figure I'm learning more than I'm teaching, so this is the cheapest tuition I'll ever come by for the quality of the education. While I do admit I sincerely miss the comforts of home, the trip was a critical stop on my life's journey. I guess that means I need to start thinking about my next tattoo. Your suggestions are welcome and appreciated.

Best,

Tom