In this post: Meet the junior monks of Shree Gautam Buddha Ling.
Norbu, Tashi, Dawa and Changba
Most of these photos were taken on my penultimate day at the monastery, at the point where I'd gotten to know the students to such a degree that it felt like I'd always known them. I brought an old 35mm SLR with me as the kids had said they wanted to take photos (I'd taught them the basics of photography two months earlier). The day resulted in many blurry images; the finer points of focusing may have been a big ask for twelve year olds who had only just been told how a camera works.
It seemed to me that so much of who these boys were and who they would become was evident in the final images. It may be that knowing them so well means that it is only me who can see this; but they were without a doubt the most interesting and engaging people I've ever met.
Looking back with a critical eye, I feel that in terms of photography, I dropped the ball in Nepal. My confidence in photojournalism was nearly non-existent, following on from a year of uncertainty regarding what photography really 'meant' to me. If I could go back now, everything would be vastly different. Sadly, I can't re-live the time I spent in Kathmandu. I know, however, that the purpose of my time spent teaching at Shree Gautam Buddha Ling was not for the ends of constructing a photojournalistic story. I was there to teach, and the time was not right for me to delve into the private and sacred inner workings of Tibetan Buddhism in Nepal. I'll take what I've learned from the opportunities I feel I've missed and apply those lessons to my continuing efforts to improve.
This being said, I came away with at least a few photographs of some of the students, many of whom were understandably camera-shy. While I hope that some of the mystery and magic of the life of Buddhist monks will always remain, I feel that in order for people in the West to truly understand their struggle and their threatened way of life, we must stop seeing them as so entirely 'other' and know that they are as human and as normal as all of us.
It seemed to me that so much of who these boys were and who they would become was evident in the final images. It may be that knowing them so well means that it is only me who can see this; but they were without a doubt the most interesting and engaging people I've ever met.
Looking back with a critical eye, I feel that in terms of photography, I dropped the ball in Nepal. My confidence in photojournalism was nearly non-existent, following on from a year of uncertainty regarding what photography really 'meant' to me. If I could go back now, everything would be vastly different. Sadly, I can't re-live the time I spent in Kathmandu. I know, however, that the purpose of my time spent teaching at Shree Gautam Buddha Ling was not for the ends of constructing a photojournalistic story. I was there to teach, and the time was not right for me to delve into the private and sacred inner workings of Tibetan Buddhism in Nepal. I'll take what I've learned from the opportunities I feel I've missed and apply those lessons to my continuing efforts to improve.
This being said, I came away with at least a few photographs of some of the students, many of whom were understandably camera-shy. While I hope that some of the mystery and magic of the life of Buddhist monks will always remain, I feel that in order for people in the West to truly understand their struggle and their threatened way of life, we must stop seeing them as so entirely 'other' and know that they are as human and as normal as all of us.
Lopsang, above, is the embodiment of good nature. He was shy and quiet, but always smiling. It always seemed as though he had just been told a hilarious secret at any given point during the day. Lopsang, like many others at the monastery, is from the mountain kingdom of Bhutan.
Also shy and quiet, Norbu was one of the younger monks at the monastery. His small stature meant that he was often the victim of the latest wrestling techniques. I'd regularly have to pull him out of headlocks and off of the shoulders of the bigger students.
Rinchen was a shadow in the back of the classroom for a long while. He's every first-time teacher's ideal student. Well behaved, polite and hardworking. Occasionally I'd catch a glimpse of his out-of-classroom self between lessons; an excellent footballer who could drop lightning-speed comebacks during the students' frequent insult-slinging tournaments.
Another Norbu, known in class as 'Big Norbu' was yet another first time teacher's dream. Although not the biggest or the oldest student, he was accepted as one of the authorities in the classroom. He is exceptionally intelligent and motivated. Always the first to finish every task, he would help the other students finish work before the end of class. He has an unusual level of maturity and stoicism for someone so young. He would often talk to me about his home region of Langtang, high in the Himalaya; how the winters were so cold, and why it was never a good idea to taunt a yak.
Tashi was one of the most lively and outspoken students. For a reason unkown to me, everyone in class referred to him as 'Ronny' [spelled Rooney]. Another excellent student, he always worked hard and could be relied on for engaging conversations about his interests: football, wrestling and aerospace technology. His current aim is to be the first monk in space.
This is Dawa (Small Dawa). The youngest and littlest of the fifteen boys I was teaching. Dawa, like a number of the other students, is Bhutanese. His quiet manner and tiny voice are were initially enough to make me think that he was the shy and unobtrusive type. Frequently being the practice target for the latest wrestling moves (along with Small Norbu), Dawa had developed an impressive level of speed and agility, needed to escape the headlocks of the older boys.
Mingmar, another Nepali student, is one of the older boys at Shree Gautam Buddha. Quieter than most and needing slightly more encouragement in lessons, watching him gain confidence in himself and his abilities was the motivation I needed to continue teaching on the occasional difficult days.
Sangay, from Bhutan, is the one student who will always stand at the forefront of my memories of my time in Nepal. On my first day, he showed me to the monastery's office room, and poured me some Himalayan tea. I think he may have used salt in place of sugar; or perhaps that's how the Bhutanese take their tea. He never took his eyes off me, one eyebrow raised in mild bemusement. In the classroom, his stared silently at me, still with the raised eyebrow, while chewing a toothpick. Every day, he would open the door of the monastery office and bring me hot tea (despite my being red faced and soaked in sweat from walking from Thamel to Swoyambhu in the Nepalese summer heat). Each day, he made slightly more conversation. By the time I left the monastery, he was talking nonstop about anything he could think of. He was the liveliest, friendliest and most engaging student in the class, but I'll never forget the toothpick, the salty tea or the raised eyebrow.
Finally, we have Big Dawa. Dawa is also from Bhutan, and is one of the older students at the monastery. He's the class pyromaniac (every school has one) and I would regularly have to confiscate lighters from him as he singed the edges of the stacks of sutra papers in the corner of the classroom. Dawa's mind appears to move at a hundred miles an hour, almost too fast for him to remain apace of what's happening. He has a talent for art, and a gravelly voice that would have better suited a heavy smoker three times his age. Always the first to be drawing on the blackboard, the tables or his fellow students, Dawa was as friendly as he was lively and liked to watch Ghost Rider at least once a week.
I'm writing this post in the chilly gloom of the English 'springtime.' I don't miss the heat and the dirt of Kathmandu, but I've realised that if I could be doing anything right now, it would be teaching these kids. I'm not the 'emotional' type, but seeing these images fills me with a mix of sadness that I'm no longer with them, but gladness that I at least was for a short while.
There will always be a level of mystery and intrigue surrounding the lives of Buddhist monks. Those who have spent time with monastic Buddhists in any country will have caught a glimpse of their alternate 'normality' - long days of dedicated worship and endless self-refinement. I've found that 'normality' to these boys is not so far removed from that of any others around the world. They love wrestling, football, films with motorbikes and big explosions. Their friendships are complex and dynamic, ever-changing within the walls of their home, school and place of worship. For people who have so little, they seem to live life with a mix of resignation to their futures and vitality and excitement in their present. Such personal substance and honesty of being is becoming ever more elusive in Wesern youth culture; but it is alive and well within these walls.
Before I left, the students gave me an old photograph of them, three years previously. They had each attempted to vandalise the photo to bait one another, but reached me relatively intact. On the last day, I asked if we could re-create the image, three years on.
I'm writing this post in the chilly gloom of the English 'springtime.' I don't miss the heat and the dirt of Kathmandu, but I've realised that if I could be doing anything right now, it would be teaching these kids. I'm not the 'emotional' type, but seeing these images fills me with a mix of sadness that I'm no longer with them, but gladness that I at least was for a short while.
There will always be a level of mystery and intrigue surrounding the lives of Buddhist monks. Those who have spent time with monastic Buddhists in any country will have caught a glimpse of their alternate 'normality' - long days of dedicated worship and endless self-refinement. I've found that 'normality' to these boys is not so far removed from that of any others around the world. They love wrestling, football, films with motorbikes and big explosions. Their friendships are complex and dynamic, ever-changing within the walls of their home, school and place of worship. For people who have so little, they seem to live life with a mix of resignation to their futures and vitality and excitement in their present. Such personal substance and honesty of being is becoming ever more elusive in Wesern youth culture; but it is alive and well within these walls.
Before I left, the students gave me an old photograph of them, three years previously. They had each attempted to vandalise the photo to bait one another, but reached me relatively intact. On the last day, I asked if we could re-create the image, three years on.
This is Sangey, Dawa, Rinchen, Jingme, Tashi, Lahkpa and Lopsang, taken by one of the senior monks at Shree Gautam Buddha Ling.
Here, we have (L-R) Lopsang (hiding), Small Norbu, Big Norbu, Big Dawan, Tashi, Small Dawa, Changba, Sangey and Mingmar, about three years on. The tree next to the wall had grown too big to completely recreate the original photo, but everyone old and new tried to squeeze in regardless.
If you would like to work with Buddhist monks in Nepal in a way that does not support the manipulation and thievery of large multinational companies, please fee free to contact me on info@rebeckawolfe.com. I have contacts in Nepal who can find you a direct placement at a monastery in Kathmandu, and there will be no middle-man to pay. You should never have to pay to volunteer; instead, donations made directly to the monastery or the purchase of learning materials for the students is encouraged.
ཐུགས་རྗེཞེ་དྲག་ཆེ་།
0 comments:
Post a Comment