A busy but very enjoyable day ahead. We will be visiting three schools. These are always the most beautiful moments of our trip. Seeing those happy little faces again after a long absence moves us every time.
Hello Rob, welcome back
Even now, when we arrived at Indrapur school, where it all started for us in 2017, I’m not ashamed to admit that, as a 60-year-old man, I got a lump in my throat when the kids ran up to me, shouting, “Hello Rob, welcome back.” It was the first school day after the Dashain festival. Tradition dictates that the kids must be welcomed with a tika, the red dot with rice and yogurt on the forehead, and grass behind the ears to wish everyone a good (rice) harvest. Additionally, symbolic money (about 20 cents) and a treat must be handed out. Rebecca and I spent about an hour doing just that. Afterward, I spoke with the new headmaster and a few teachers, while Rebecca read to a group of young girls. Then we handed out some small gifts (almost getting trampled in the process) before heading to one of the poorest parts of Haripur, Ward-7.
"Untouchables"
Here in Ward-7, only Dalits, the "untouchables," live—people who have virtually no chance in society. Four years ago, we opened the Sunshine Day School here. Every time, we plan to keep a bit of distance because the kids are often very dirty and infested with lice. But as soon as we step inside, that intention goes out the window. We are overwhelmed with love and enthusiasm, and in no time, we find ourselves dancing, hugging, and celebrating with those little ones. Here too, we applied tika and grass sprigs, danced to educational children's songs, and gave the kids temporary tattoos and small gifts. It was wonderful to see that two toilet buildings were also placed here, thanks to anonymous sponsors.
Starting at age 4, already working in a brick factory.
Given the heat (over 30 degrees) and our dance moves, we were drenched. A quick shower, a bite to eat, and off to the Brick School. In a very remote part of Haripur stands a small building. In the past, parents used to make their children, as young as 4 years old, work in a brick factory. It is only because we provide lunch for the children that they are allowed by their parents to attend school. If we didn't facilitate this lunch, the kids would be sent back to the factory without hesitation. Unfortunately, the illiterate parents hardly see the value of education. At the small school, about 50 children, ranging in age from 5 to 10, receive lessons. It's truly impressive how the teacher manages that. For several years now, 2 of the 52 have been paying her salary, we buy schoolbooks, and we ensure the kids get at least one meal a day. Today, Rebecca and I applied many temporary tattoos and handed out small gifts again. But the highlight was the picnic, where the children could choose to eat real chicken or fish and had soft drinks to enjoy. What a wonderful day we had. Tomorrow, we will visit the last school, have a long meeting with the mayor, and check the accounts with the new bookkeeper. I suspect that will wrap things up for us.
