Visit With Aakash, Prisoner and Guard

I'm not sure why but it took me so long to call Aakash in order to pass my number on to Surendra. I guess I figured Surendra wasn't in the country anyway so there was no rush. I also didn't want to call myself as the number he gave me was a landline at the prison and so I would have a hard time explaining what I needed if someone else answered. Eventually Prakash called for me and gave him my number. He told Prakash that he believed Surendra was back from Europe which I was thrilled to hear as I had really hoped to see him. He said he would pass my number on to him for me so I was excited!

Minutes later Aakash called back saying he had told Surendra that I was here. Then he asked if I would come and see him. He was free in a half hour he said, but not after that as he had another friend coming to visit. So I seized the opportunity to go back to the prison and told him ok, I would be there. I quickly said goodbye to Prakash and took off knowing it would take me that long to get there. There are always tons of bicycle rickshaws around and I planned to get one to get there quicker, but I asked a couple people and their price was crazy so I went on power walking.
 

Part way there I gave in and got a rickshaw for the last bit. I regretted it instantly though given how crowded the streets are and knowing that I could probably navigate them quicker on foot. But I got there and Aakash was waiting for me at the main gate looking spiffy in his black leather jacket, jeans and dressy loafers. The police greeted me like last time, I gave his name and in I went to the first security area. There was nobody around but a handful of police officers, I learned due to it being a public holiday. There are A LOT of public holidays in Nepal by the way...So no visitors were allowed that day but, in I went. This is how the system works here..

 

And speaking about the system, yep, no problem seeing a Nepali prisoner, but a foreigner is a completely different story. Makes no sense to me at all.

 

Aakash, who may I remind you is technically a prisoner himself, helped check me in, writing my name, country etc. in the registration book. As per usual they asked for cell phones, SIM cards, recharge cards, ATM cards...I handed over my Ipod, ear buds and cell phone, got a visitor pass to put around my neck, which is new, and they went through my bag. Then to a little private area to get frisked and off we went to the men's jail to visit.

 

I know this part of the jail well, as this is where I used to visit my Nigerian buddy, Teo. It's also where I used to visit Surendra, who as a prisoner/guard had a separate area for visits. This same area is where Aakash and I sat given he too is a guard. In fact I learned that he is the boss of the prisoners, taking over the position after Surendra was released. This explained why he had helped check me in. He basically has full reign of the place.

 

As I described years ago in past posts the visiting area on the men's side is a really nice area. It's outside so it is bright, there is a colourful mural on one wall, a temple, chairs to sit and green space. It has always seemed very welcoming and peaceful to me. A stark contrast from the women's side which I have also written about before.

 

There were no prisoners outside visiting due to the holiday, and instead a group of uniformed police officers were sitting in the yard playing a game. Not a typical prison scene that's for sure.

 

As has always been my past experience, Aakash offered and then insisted that I have a coffee. I have fond memories of my coffee/tea times with Teo in particular and so I accepted. After some time a man brought us two big cups of coffee which Aakash explained was not from the tea shop that the prison runs for prisoners and visitors, but rather from his own personal supply. Turns out he is quite the coffee connoisseur and buys Nescafe Gold for himself, a more expensive option than the rest get. His favourite though is Starbucks just like me :)

 

I learned a lot of interesting things about Aakash and the prison during our hour visit. To give you the whole context, he is 31 and from a small village in Nepal. He lost his father 6 years ago, and his mother only a year ago. His mother's death in particular seems to have affected him a lot. He was the only son, and he shared that him being in prison had hurt his mother a lot. They used to talk everyday and everyday she would cry for him to come home. Unfortunately that didn't happen before she died which I am sure eats at him. He has the chance to go out with friends, a privilege the prisoner/guards earn, which they call "facilities." But he said that he hadn't had any desire to have that kind of fun since he lost his mother. He does have two sisters thankfully, and 3 nieces and nephews. When he gets out he will live with his sister and her family in Kathmandu. This sister seems really supportive and close to him, bringing him things he needs as well as expensive gifts, like a $1000 Armani watch that he was wearing. Wow! Apparently she is pretty well off.

 

About 9 years ago while in Kathmandu Aakash was charged with possession of brown sugar (heroin) that was found on his bike. He said that the drugs were his friend's but there was no winning his case. He was sentenced to 10 years while his friend was sentenced to 15. The old friend is in another jail and they are no longer in contact. I am assuming from the difference in sentence that there was acknowledgement that the drugs were his friend's but it didn't matter so much in the end as they both received long sentences.

 

Prior to his charge Aakash had been living in Singapore with his Nepali girlfriend, working in the clothing export business, he had lots of friends and had travelled to places like India, Thailand and Malaysia. Pretty worldly for a Nepali I would say.

 

After his charge his girlfriend left him and has since married. He doesn't like to think of her, and laments the fact that he has lost so many years without a girlfriend, not being married or having children which he hopes to do in some years after he gets released and settled.

 

As a prisoner/guard he gets a reduction in his sentence by 2 months per year. He expects to be out next July which will be close to 10 years.

 

Because I'm infatuated with prison life I asked about his routine as a guard. First of all, there are 670 male prisoners in his prison, and I imagine it's pretty full back there. He is considered to be living "outside" though and as the boss gets his own room. He has a heater, TV and like Surendra, a dog. His first job of the day everyday is to go to the market (with police escort) to buy vegetables for the prisoners. He is also responsible for disbursing money and rice to the prisoners. They get 45 rupees and 700g of rice disbursed every 10 days. That makes 450 rupees for 10 days of food and everything else one needs (soap, toiletries etc). That is $6 and I can tell you not nearly enough to survive here. Anybody you talk to here confirms that, and anyone who knows the prison system also confirms that without outside money it is impossible to live.

 

Now with the fuel crisis it is ever worse as there is no access to fuel and/or people can't afford it. So they are currently bringing in firewood to cook with.

 

But Aakash is definitely a lucky one as he seems to have enough money to buy what he wants and has the support of his sister as well. In addition, because he is responsible for the market shopping everyday he can buy what he wants i.e. his beloved Nescafe Gold.

 

Apart from those duties, everyday he has to meet with the warden to report on what is going on with the prisoners inside. That explains why it was no big deal for him to go talk to him for me the day we first met.

 

I also wanted to talk to him about the earthquake. In his jail 16 people died and 45 were injured. There are different sections of the jail i.e. the women's jail where Proscovia is, and there were no deaths/injuries anywhere else but his jail. He explained that this was because his building is a 100 year old, 3 storey building and it just crumbled with the tremor. The people who died were old or sick and they couldn't run to safety. Aakash pulled many people to safety himself and said that the police were very helpful at the time as well. It is so odd to hear as there is absolutely no animosity towards the police. All I heard was respect.

 

He acknowledged that it was very scary after the initial quake and said that the 12 prisoner/guards that technically work "outside" slept out in the visiting area for a long time as they were too busy to be indoors. I imagine the hundreds on the inside were terrified though, especially with the building crumbling and people dying around them. I had also wondered if they had had supplies after the quake when the whole city was in chaos. Apparently for some time they only didn't had the basics, rice and dal (lentils) but they did okay considering.

 

I always wanted to know if there are any foreigners in the men's jail right now and surprisingly there are none. The infamous Charles Sobraz, a half Vietnamese, half Indian worldwide tourist serial killer remains in another part of the jail though. I have always known about him as he is quite famous around these parts, and interestingly enough there is currently a Bollywood movie about his life that I got to see since while here. Unfortunately he's not allowed visitors given his notoriety, otherwise you know I would be there :)

 

In talking about the prisoners, this "criminal" who is very soft spoken and gentle in presentation told me how much he "loves" his prisoners, especially the elderly and sick people. He buys them fruit and sweets and is well loved for how he treats them.

 

So after our coffee and chat, we were escorted back to the entrance by a police officer, I picked up my things and went on my way, back to my efforts to see a foreigner who this prison system says I can't see. Yet...



The Battle To See Proscovia

This trip to Nepal, my third, is going to be remembered unfortunately with great disappointment.

 

I hadn't planned to travel to Nepal this year but after the devastating earthquake that the country experienced in April 2015 I just felt I needed to go. One of the people I was most concerned about and felt the need to check on, was Proscovia, a Ugandan woman imprisoned in Nepal. We met in 2009, and spent a lot of time together during my prison visits that year while I was here. We maintained sporadic email contact after that and in 2012 I came back and saw her as much as possible during the month that I was here. I now refer to her as a friend rather than just someone I know in prison. And knowing that she has nobody in Nepal, nor an embassy to check on her wellbeing, I wanted to come and see her myself.

 

From what I know 16 prisoners died in Kathmandu during the earthquake. My friend was able to confirm through the newspaper that Proscovia wasn't one of them. I wasn't so much worried that she had died, but about how the prisoners were managing during a time of chaos in the country. I wondered if supplies were being brought in, and even more so, I couldn't help but think of the terror the prisoners would feel locked up inside when the rest of Kathmandu was so scared to be indoors that they were sleeping in the streets, or in the little green space that the city ha

 

 

I arrived late on a Friday night and gave myself Saturday to acclimatize before heading to the prison. I also knew that Saturdays were super busy at the prison as most Nepali people have the day off, and take the day to visit loved ones.

 

 

I knew from my last visit in 2012 that I would likely need to speak with the jail warden in order to be granted visits. Reason being is that sometime before that there had been a shooting by a foreigner, I believe an Indian national, against a Nepali, and so after that they cracked down on foreign visitors. You would think the bigger concern would have been how the guy got through with a gun but whatever...Instead the new rule was that you couldn't visit a prisoner unless they were from the same country. This is when Proscovia stopped getting visitors, mainly Canadian volunteers who arrived monthly and as part of their orientation were brought to the prison as I had been in 2009. Before I had left I had secured Proscovia's spot as one of the people they would visit, as a means of support for her. But this was no longer.

 

 

I recruited my best Nepali friend Prakash to come and communicate with the warden for me. Not knowing how it was going to go I packed my bag with only a few things for Proscovia..mainly basic clothing items. We walked there, a route that I have taken many times, and as we got closer I got more excited, but also more anxious.

It seemed very busy and police were everywhere, more than I remembered from before. Foreign visitors are rare so right away we were greeted and ushered to speak with the jail warden. I knew the way and so led us up. It's hard to believe how accessible the warden is to the public actually. His office has a simple curtain on the door, Prakash peeked inside, greeted him and in we went. He clearly is not worried about his safety as we hadn't even been searched yet. There were several other men sitting on a couch in his office, but despite him having visitors we sat down and Prakash went into his spiel about why I was there.

I should add that I was feeling so uncomfortable at this point, as I had chosen to wear a pair of jeans with a hole in the thigh area. Nothing skanky but I don't know what I was thinking in packing them to go to such a conservative country. I asked Prakash before we went if they would be ok, and he assured me yes. But as soon as I got there I felt like an idiot. And in fact, I now credit these jeans as the biggest packing failure of my life as my patch of white skin has turned out to be a beacon in the night for Nepali men. 90% of them stare at this hole, and so obviously so that it is insane! It honestly makes me feel like a naked whore. Sorry for my language. But that's how I felt that day, sitting there covering my hole trying to look respectable and at the same time cursing Prakash for telling me it was okay. Clearly he was just being polite :)

Anyway, I could understand enough from the random English words i.e. embassy, to know what the result was, and it wasn't good. My heart just sank.

I learned after that a couple years back, shortly after I was there, the rules had tightened even more and that now if you wanted to visit a foreigner, you needed a letter of support from an embassy. This was the worst news ever as I knew that a Canadian embassy wouldn't get involved in a matter involving a non-Canadian. I also knew that Proscovia hadn't received so much as a visit from a Ugandan embassy in the 7 plus years she has been imprisoned.

Prakash explained that I had visited extensively here before, the last time in 2012 with special permission from the previous warden. That didn't change things, but in the end he suggested that I try and find a police officer that knew me from before, I assume for some assurance that I hadn't been a problem before.

So out we went and I immediately started to scan everyone to see if there was someone that I knew. I've visited so much over the years that I was confident that I would know some officers, many who had been quite friendly with me, inviting me to celebrations, giving me their emails etc. I was kicking myself in this moment for not keeping names, or keeping in contact as you never know when you are going to need people, especially in a country when who you know can be so important.

So we stood on the dirt road within the prison while I searched for someone I knew. Other officers came over to find out what was going on, and Prakash proceeded to explain the situation. One officer who seemed to be high ranking came over and told us what we already knew in terms of the embassy position. He took us over to the registration area and showed us the directive in Nepali stating same. He was really nice though taking it upon himself to go around the prison with my passport trying to find someone who knew me. We continued to stand there which I was fine with thinking that the longer we stood there the better chance I had of seeing someone.

We waited for quite awhile and in the end he couldn't find anyone. He wouldn't let me walk over to one of the other registration areas where I used to know most of the officers but it probably wouldn't have made a difference anyway as we were told that the officers were rotated every six months. That could explain why I didn't recognize anyone. They all looked like they had just come out of high school. I was feeling so dejected at this point.

Then as we continued to stand around with a bunch of officers a group of guys walked by. My story started to be re-told again. Well all of a sudden I hear one guy say to me something like "you visited Jerry." I screeched "yes" and I was so excited that I think I hit this guy on the arm as if to say yessssss you know meeeee!!!!

Teo Jerry was the first prisoner I met in 2009. A man from Nigeria who had been imprisoned in Nepal for over 20 years on a drug trafficking case. I spent a lot of time visiting Teo before he was released and it was he who told me about Proscovia. There was a small group of African prisoners in the prison at that time and they all looked out for eachother. It bothered Teo that Proscovia had been in prison for 1.5 years by that time and hadn't received a single visitor, as in the Nepali prison system it was hard to survive without outside support.

I didn't recognize this guy really but he recognized me from this time when I used to visit Teo, as well as my buddy Surendra, a Nepali who had since been released. When he also mentioned Surendra's name I could have kissed him as I had lost contact with him when he left Facebook. He told me that Surendra was currently in Europe but that he was returning soon. I was thrilled to hear that as I was really hoping to see him while I was here, and as a free man for the first time.

Turns out this guy, named Aakash, is like Surendra in that he too is a prisoner, but also a guard.

If you haven't read my previous blogs about the Nepali prison, the system here is really interesting in that like any other prison the police guard the outside of the prison, control who comes in and out etc. But it is the prisoners who actually run the prison from the inside. So once you are allowed entry and go to the section of the prison where you are visiting, it is the prisoners who are fetching the person you want to see, telling you when you have to go etc. And they control everything else that needs to be controlled on the inside. Being a prisoner/guard is an earned privilege and along with it comes some perks such as getting escorted outings, being able to order things from the outside, and walk around the prison grounds freely as Aakash was doing. Surendra even used to have his own dog in the prison!

Prakash was shocked at this; that Aakash was walking around freely, how others were referring to him as "dai" which means "older brother" reserved for any male who deserves more respect. He also noted how Aakash was dressed so well and that he walked very confidently as if he was someone important. Surendra was the same way.

Aakash explained that he had been caught with drugs almost 10 years before and that he had served about 9 years of his sentence. He was set to get out in about 6 months and was obviously looking forward to it. I took Aakash's number so I could have him pass on my number to Surendra. I was super excited about this..something good was happening at least.

Since I had technically found someone who knew me and he was a guard, I asked Aakash if he could vouch for me with the warden. He was fine with that so back we went, this time Prakash and I waiting outside while Aakash went in to talk to him. He was in there for some time (and again, how fascinating of a system that a prisoner can just walk in and talk to the warden). That would never happen in North American prisons. Unfortunately though Aakash's "reference" didn't do me any good as the warden's position didn't change. I needed a letter from an embassy. Why he had me go try and find someone who knew me when it made no difference in the end I'm not sure. But I thanked Aakash for trying and we left, me despondent.

I wrote to the Canadian Conuslate in Kathmandu about the situation that night. After no response, two days later I went there in person (which was a feat in itself to find). Upon arrival I learned that it was now just an "Honourary Consulate" open only 3 hours a day 5 days a week, with no Canadian staff and with no real powers to do anything. Apparently Harper shut down the Embassy here a few years ago. Thanks for that Harper..really stellar decision with thousands of Canadian tourists coming to Nepal each year.

That same week I met a Canadian girl from Montreal who had been robbed and needed to get a new passport. This "Honourary Consulate" brainchild was a nightmare for her in a time of crisis. And for me, it wasn't so positive either. The office was a rinky dink, one man kind of operation that as soon as I walked in to I thought was a make work project. It didn't seem like the guy did much of anything. And he pretty much told me this, that he wasn't able to do much from Nepal, and that anything official needed to be done at the Embassy in Delhi.

This guy was quite familiar with the new rigid prison rules as it turns out that he has to jump through the same hoops. Reason being is that there is a Canadian man serving a lengthy prison sentence in another part of Kathmandu. He visits with him quarterly which is a Canadian Embassy standard whenever a Canadian is imprisoned abroad. The new rules mean that he needs to get a letter from the Canadian High Commission in New Delhi each time he plans to see this man.

In regards to my situation, this Nepali guy, who I didn't have the greatest impression of, tells me that he had just returned from some training in Canada (2 days before) and hadn't seen my email. There were so many emails after 2 weeks away apparently. The only thing he offered to do was forward my email, which I needed to send to him again, off to New Delhi to see if they could help. But he added, it was unlikely given Proscovia wasn't a Canadian citizen.

He suggested I could try the British Embassy as he believed they used to provide support to citizens from countries with no embassy here in Nepal. I had actually tried them years before to get Teo some help, but hadn't had any luck, but I was willing to give it a try so off I went. Thankfully I remembered where to go.

Well that ended up being an all morning waste of time. Long story short I waited forever to get an answer as to whether they would assist someone from Uganda. I was feeling encouraged when I was finally told to go over to the Consulate building as someone wanted to talk to me. But when I arrived a guard with not so great English and I doubt understanding the situation, told me that as a Canadian citizen I wasn't allowed inside the Consulate. That if I was Ugandan they would speak to me but otherwise I had to email them regarding the situation. I was so frustrated by this point and couldn't believe I was being treated like this as a member of the Commonwealth! I emailed the British Embassy that night and have never received a response. Disgusting.

I also emailed the Ugandan Embassy in New Delhi. No response. I went back to the Canadian Consulate. My buddy didn't even recognize me at first, but he at least did confirm that he got my second email and that he had sent it to New Delhi. Apparently they were confused by the situation and had sent it off to Ottawa. The Consulate was going to be closed for a couple days that week for the Tihar Festival but he assured me he would email me if he heard anything. No word to date.

After not hearing anything from the Ugandan Embassy in New Delhi, I had a brainwave that perhaps I would have better luck with the Ugandan Embassy in Canada. So I wrote to them. No response. I then called New Delhi and actually got to speak with the Consulate, Debra. She told me that the email address on their website was wrong. That could be the reason they didn't respond. She also confirmed that the Ugandan High Commission in New Delhi knew nothing of one of their citizens being in prison in Nepal for 8 years. I was told to re-send my email.

Gaining some momentum from being able to speak with someone in New Delhi I next called Ottawa. A woman named Caroline answered the phone, telling me that the High Commissioner wasn't in the office. Our conversation started out with a simple explanation as to why I was calling, but turned into me telling her Proscovia's whole story. She listened, asked questions and expressed such compassion and non-judgement towards her, I was touched. She thanked me for my care and concern for Proscovia and expressed her hope that I would get a chance to see her. She told me to try back that day (which I did with no success) but that she would brief the High Commissioner of Proscovia's situation so when I called she would be aware. I was so thankful...

The next morning I called as planned and Caroline greeted me anxiously as if I was an old friend. I was passed on to the High Commissioner who like Caroline presented as being Ugandan like Proscovia. She started out by saying how touched she was that I was so concerned for Proscovia, thanking me for this and saying "all I can say is God Bless You." I expressed how lovely it was to hear care and concern for Proscovia, and more so the lack of judgement. She responded with something like, Crystal, if everyone ended up in jail for every mistake they made we would all be in jail. So true and so lovely..

Apart from those inspiring words she expressed that she wished she could help me, but that the High Commission in New Delhi as the closest to Proscovia was who must deal with the situation. I thanked her though and proceeded to call New Delhi again. After repeated calls and not being able to talk to Debra, I was passed on the message that my request had been forwarded on to Foreign Affairs in Uganda and that Debra would let me know when she heard something. I was so angry and frustrated by this point, I wanted to cry. All I needed was a simple letter and after 15 days and endless effort...nothing.

Not being able to connect with Debra and feeling that the pass off to Uganda was BS, I took a chance and reached out to Ottawa again given how supportive they had seemed. I wrote another email advising what had transpired since we had talked and that I was concerned that I wouldn't get to see her with less than a week left here.

As it is I have found it so hard to be in Kathmandu not being able to see her. To be so close yet there to be such a barrier. My time here has always been filled with prison visits and so I've felt a void without them. I've had a lot of free time and struggled with boredom, at times thinking of leaving early. But it's been too much of an effort to just bail out now. I have to see this through.

One day I took a chance to walk by the women's prison just to see, in hopes that maybe one of the guards would recognize me and call me over. It's kind of in an odd place as it is off a public road with stores and such but there are police all around. I pretended I was going to a store and just kept walking by seeing all the guards sitting outside as per usual. Nothing great happened like someone calling me over. On the way back the guards asked me where I was going and diverted me another way. I was glad I went anyway..

So that's where things are at on Day 16 and with few days left. I'll pick up the calling again tomorrow and will keep you posted...



Nepal-It Aint No Paradise

Well, it's time to write about Nepal..

I'm not sure if it was a sign, a warning that this trip to Nepal was not going to be smooth sailing, but before I even left the airport I rat scurried by me as I was leaving the bathroom. I don't do well with rats. One of the only benefits of having bad eyesight is that I have probably not seen many that have crossed my path during my travels over the years. But this one I saw and I froze as it ran off. A Nepali sitting in the area said "it's ok it's ok, it's gone now," I am sure inwardly chuckling at my fear. I kept walking with goosebumps intact.

Thankfully my hotel turned out to be pretty good. It took months of research to pick as there are a plethora of options and the prices fluctuate. Nothing luxurious, but $17 US/night can get you a nice enough place, with hot water (essential in Kathmandu), Wifi and a free breakfast to boot. As a girl who can't survive without hot water, especially in a land like this where mornings and evenings are cool and there is no heat inside, having hot water was my biggest worry, and this hotel has thankfully not failed me. So I have stayed, and am now paying even less, $15 US a night. Can't beat that eh! :)

I don't think anybody would describe Kathmandu as a pretty city. It is a big, busy, noisy, dusty place used as a base for people here to trek and tour other areas of Nepal. But Kathmandu was to be my base while here, because it is here where the people I care about are, and the reason I came.

Because of how dusty and exhaust ridden it can be, one of the first things I had to do was get a face mask. I was already sick so I knew I would never recover without it. And no worries, I'm not the only yahoo here wearing one. They are pretty common even with the locals.

Thamel, the main tourist area in Kathmandu, hasn't changed since I was here. Shop after shop after shop of pashminas, blankets, handicrafts, trekking gear...I have no idea how the good majority even make a living. Like many other tourist places you get barraged by salespeople as you walk around here, as well by bicycle rickshaw drivers, people selling homemade instruments, tiger balm for aches and pains, and the drug dealers who whisper beside you "smoke?" The other day a young guy ran up to me gleefully announcing that he had hash. I graciously declined but he remained optimistic replying "sometime!" As I walked away I gave him a "you never know" in a singsong voice just to keep his hope alive.

I expected to see a lot more damage from the earthquake in Kathmandu than there is. My friend tells me that a lot of the debris has already been cleared away, but compared to the rural areas Kathmandu was very much spared. Sadly some of their main holy sites, also tourist attractions, have the most obvious damage, some of which is already being repaired, and some not. A friend of mine who is a business owner here, tells me that 4 billion dollars in aid has come into the country, yet very little has been done. The road from China to Nepal which brought 120,000 Chinese tourists to Nepal last year remains blocked with debris and in turn means 120,000 people worth of lost income for Nepali people. There is a sense of hopelessness here that their leadership aren't doing what is necessary to get this country back on track.

Impacting the country even more than the earthquake relief right now though is a fuel crisis. I'm not sure if the world even knows what's going on here but I sure hope so, as it is impacting the country even more than the earthquake did if you can believe that.

What happened is that in late October, India, Nepal's only fuel source, stopped sending fuel to Nepal. India says that it is due to security issues related to ethnic minority protests that are going on near several India-Nepal borders. The Nepali position is that this is a political move by India's leadership as they do not support Nepal's new leader or their new Constitution. Whatever the reason, and from all that I have heard, it does appear that this a strategic move on India's part, Nepal has been crippled by the lack of fuel across the country.

Individuals no longer have a means of transportation; thousands of motorcycles sit idle. Earthquake relief efforts have been quashed as trucks sit with no fuel to function. Local buses are jammed packed with people now needing to use public transport. Many bus routes are not running at all. Some international flight carriers have stopped flights to Kathmandu as they can't refuel here. Taxi prices have probably more than quadrupled. Medications and supplies are not being delivered to remote areas. And this at a time when winter is coming and with a good majority of rural people living in temporary shelters due to their homes being destroyed.

Apart from a lack of fuel for transport, cooking gas (which everyone relies on versus electricity), is also scarce. People are using firewood to cook or going without their usual fare. Prices for food has risen. Some restaurants have closed, and almost all now have limited menus to conserve gas. I couldn't help but laugh today when I looked at a restaurant menu created since the fuel crisis titled "India Blockade Menu." There is no question who Nepali people blame for their situation :)

Nepal has just brokered a deal to receive some gas from China but it will take time to get here and be distributed. It is also only 30 percent of what Nepal typically gets from India. The government has established systems in order to distribute the limited gas, but given the demand this translates to queing in the street for days. I have seen line ups of hundreds and hundreds of motorcycles waiting for fuel, and as well line ups of people with their empty gas canisters, some with blankets prepared to sleep in the street in order to be able to eat.

The black market for fuel is thriving, with a litre of fuel now costing 500 rupees ($6) versus normal 100 rupees ($1.50). Most Nepalese people can't afford gas this expensive so they are going without.

A Canadian girl from Montreal staying in my hotel had her bag ripped off her the other day by a man on a motorcycle. She lost her passport, credit cards, money, everything, and it has ruined her trip. She tells me that she has heard of several other incidents of tourists being robbed in the last week. I have been to Nepal three times, and for a total of probably 5 months and I can tell you that this kind of thing is so so rare here. This is not who Nepali people are and speaks to the desperation here. Tourism is at 30 percent of what it usually is, and it's peak season. Now with this fuel crisis the situation is so much worse for people.

So when I get frustrated by the noise, the pollution, the constant attempts to sell, I have to remember that I have it so good compared to the Nepali people. That said, should you be cursing me for being away right now, please take some comfort in knowing that I am in no paradise! :)

With that, it's time to put on my face mask and get out there!

She Calls Me Auntie-Beatrice's Story Part 2

I watched and waited 3 weeks for Beatrice, each Thursday tucking my Ipod in my pocket so I could pull out the picture of her family when I saw her. But nothing. I was anxious.

 

The 4th week though, was the annual Gifts of Grace summer BBQ, their birthday party. It was going to be a big event with hotdogs, coleslaw, chips, desserts, ice cream...and with a local artist doing caricatures of people even. The weekly volunteer crews had been spreading the news and there was a poster up as well so our patrons knew it was coming up. I knew it would be a big event for people and that there was a good chance that Beatrice would come.

It was a high tech operation and all the stations were covered BY volunteers. That was okay with me as I am most happy in the role of greeter, just chatting with people as they go through the line. So that's what I did.

 

Before the BBQ even started I had a trick played on me. An older lady carrying a garbage bag of stuff said she needed to go to the washroom before dinner was served and asked if she could leave it with me while she went. She stressed several times that she had a month's worth of groceries in that bag and that it was imperative that I not lose them. I reassured her several times that no worries, I would take care of her stuff. So she tucked it under the wheel of a truck and off she went. I did my job, and I would say quite diligently, as I didn't want to be responsible for losing all her food. But this bag watch went off for quite some time, and you know, I do like to talk so eventually became engaged in a conversation with someone else. All of a sudden the lady re-appeared and screeched "my bag is gone!!" I turned and looked quickly and sure enough it wasn't there! Well I panicked!! Thankfully she didn't leave me in that state for long, and lifted the bag that she had sneakily snatched back without me seeing, and smiling proudly at her prank. I told her she almost gave me a heart attack!

 

As the BBQ got going I had some interesting small chat with folks..some new folks and some I have known for awhile either through Gifts of Grace or my professional life. I always enjoy banter about the weather with one of the regulars, an older man who always wears the same heavy, worn and ripped up jacket with the hood up even if it is 35 degrees. He always greets me with a "how are you dear?" and is a gentle soul with I suspect some mental health issues. We chatted about how unusually cool it was at night already. He told me that he had already had to use a candle to keep his legs warm at night on the street.

 

When goosebumps appeared on my arms from the cold, one guy suggested that I try drinking anti-freeze to keep me warm. He said it worked for him but I responded casually that I wasn't strong enough for that sort of thing. To each their own he said cheerfully. You never would have known from his appearance that he drinks anti freeze. I myself can't imagine...

 

Then came the girl that I wrote about in "The Meaning of a Picture," a former client of mine from my CFS days for whom I had saved pictures of her son. You may remember that she lost those pictures soon after. Well thankfully I later found another one in my treasure trove of mementos from those days, this one of her son sitting on Santa's lap when he was about 2. This time I was smart though and took a colour copy of it for her. I had told her some weeks before that I had another picture for her so as soon as she saw me she was asking for it. The Santa picture brought a big smile to her face and she proudly shared it with her friends. Once again she told me that her son was now 15, and once again I said how old I felt given that he was a newborn when I had last seen him.

 

Then came an older man wearing a tutu like outfit, furry slippers and holding a stuffed animal which he said was his girlfriend's dog. We chatted briefly about him not being happy that his roommates had made a mess of his apartment. It was not hard to suspect mental health issues with him given his interesting choice of clothes, but I enjoyed the interaction with this friendly and interesting fellow.

 

It wasn't long into the BBQ that I spotted Beatrice coming through. I was excited that the moment was finally here, immediately went to her and walked by her side as she passed through the food line. I could tell right away that she wasn't herself. She seemed irritated. In hindsight I wish I would have chosen another time to talk to her given that she wasn't in the best of spirits, but I didn't know when I would see her again. So I went for it...

 

I started out by reminding her of our conversation about our mutual hometown, telling her that I had been there recently. I had her attention as I shared that I had run into a girl there who reminded me of her, and that shockingly she turned out to be her sister. She didn't seem surprised by this news and impatiently urged me to tell her the rest. It was difficult to tell this kind of a story as she was getting her food doled out, but I got out what I could including that I had a picture to show her. There wasn't much of a reaction when I pulled up the picture, and to be honest I was a little disappointed by how anti-climactic the reveal had turned out to be.

 

Maybe it was shock though. Because after Beatrice collected her food it was like she came alive, like the Beatrice I had met before. She wanted me to come and show her family, actually her street family, the picture of her birth family. As she introduced me to her street mother and brother, she shared that they had looked out for her since she was 16. Both looked at the picture and seemed to enjoy seeing Beatrice's birth mother and sisters, noting that they looked like her. After that Beatrice seemed bothered though, telling me that she couldn't give up her street family now (just because her birth family had been found), because her street family was her family. I reassured her that she didn't need to choose; that she had two families that cared about her.

 

She barraged me with questions, how her mom was, was she in a wheelchair, when were they going to look for her again, what else did they say about her, and she even wanted me to show on my face how her sister had reacted to seeing her picture. I felt like I didn't have much to offer her as I hadn't really talked to them for very long. I just kept reiterating that they were excited to hear about her and to see her picture, and as well that her sister had come looking for her in Winnipeg. That clearly made her feel good as she started to blurt out to people this big news that after 41 years she was seeing her mother and sisters again.

 

We talked about how her mother had been an alcoholic, which she knew, and as far as Beatrice knew she had been given up by her mother at age 2. I told her that she may not have actually been given up; that she was likely removed from her mother's care due to her addiction. I shared my knowledge that she had older siblings who had also been removed and adopted. She knew nothing of this. I also talked about how the two sisters that I had met had been allowed to remain with her mother, but that I suspected their lives had probably been pretty tough as well given how their mom had struggled over the years.

 

It was at this point that Beatrice shared that she too was an alcoholic, was living at Siloam Mission and that she had been sober only 9 days. That explained why she seemed so irritable that day perhaps. It can be shameful to admit you have an addiction, so all I said to her was "well you've had a rough life." And she nodded quietly.

 

I wanted to tell her something else though, something that I haven't shared yet with you readers. Well if you already thought this was a crazy story, it turns out that I have another connection with Beatrice.

 

My mom was with me when I met Beatrice's sister, and with it being a small town, she knew who Beatrice's birth mother was, how she had struggled with an addiction over the years, and how her children had been removed. What is crazy is that she told me that day that my aunt and uncle had fostered one of Beatrice's mother's children back in the 1970s. She just didn't know which of the children it would have been. Could it have been Beatrice we wondered???

 

So after that weekend I wrote my cousin asking her for information about who her family had fostered way back when. It wasn't long before it was confirmed by some of my older cousins that my aunt and uncle had fostered one of Beatrice's older sisters "Dru" for several years. Can you believe that??!!

 

Despite having 6 kids of their own, my aunt and uncle had fostered as well, and had loved this little girl like crazy my mom said. That's just the kind of people they were...They had even wanted to keep her permanently, but at about age 3 she was placed for adoption with a family in Brandon. The adoptive family had sent some pictures after the adoption but my family never got to see her again. Her name was also changed with the adoption. It was clear that nobody in Beatrice's family knew what had happened to her. She is one of the Sixties Scoop kids I am sure.

 

I told Beatrice about this crazy connection, which also got little reaction, except that she became focused on what this connection made her and I...step cousin, foster sister etc. etc? In the end she just said "we're family."

 

I left her to eat and went back to my "post" as greeter. Well it wasn't long before she came back for me, with that huge smile and full of energy, wanting me to show person after person that picture, with glee sharing that she was seeing her mom and sisters after 41 years. She kept saying that...41 years. Well I must have shown over 10 people that picture!! She was just so excited, bouncing all over the place. I probably would have had to show 10 more people that picture had I not run into one of my favourite ex-clients who I had not seen in years. That was a lovely reunion as well.

 

Beatrice asked me to make copies of the picture for her, 20 to be exact, as she had a lot of people to share her family with she said. She also wanted me to try and get a letter to her family for her. Although it wasn't perhaps the best time to have shared the news with Beatrice, I did feel good in the end about how it was received, and hopeful that a connection with her birth family would be a positive thing in her life.

 

So that was that day...I am finally finishing this post months later and I have seen Beatrice many times since during my Gifts of Grace outings. She always seeks me out, and now calls me "auntie." I guess that is what she has decided that I am to her given that my family cared for her sister. I never know how she is going to be that day, as some days she is happy and full of energy, hugging me, anxious for the pictures and even talking about us taking a road trip together to see her family. Yes Thelma and Louise style :) Other times she has been so angry...angry at her mother for giving her up, even saying that if she saw her, that she would punch her for what she had done to her. She has also said that she wished she had never found out anything about them because of the tough life she has had as a result of her mother. Other times she has been annoyed and irritated with me for not having the pictures I had promised. That was how she was the last time I saw her. She also wanted my phone number because apparently her street mother wanted to talk to me about her family. Needless to say I didn't give it to her.

 

I unfortunately didn't get to give Beatrice the pictures myself before I left, so asked Bob, a Gifts of Grace founder, to pass them on to her when he saw her again. He recently sent word that they had been passed on and that Beatrice was thrilled to get them.

 

So for now folks, that is Beatrice's story. I continue to think what an unbelievable story this turned out to be, all starting with me talking to some random girl with a familiar smile. I never thought that it would have a fairytale ending with them all reuniting and being one big happy family. Too much damage has been done for that, and although I hate to use this term, they are damaged people.

 

After years and years of working within the child welfare system, I do believe though that every child has a right to know who they are and where they came from, good or bad, and that at a certain age they should be able to make the decision themselves as to what kind of relationship, if any, they want to have with their birth family. Beatrice now has this opportunity, and it will be up to her. If I can help facilitate some sort of contact, then I will, as she has enough barriers in her life as it is. Beatrice's relationship with her mother may be irreparable but my hope would be that at least she and her siblings can connect in some way. Because after all, it isn't their fault how their lives played out.

I guess we will have to wait and see....