What a Riot!

I am unexpectedly back in Kathmandu, making up the sign language lesson that was cancelled last week due to a strike.  These protests-cum-riots are common in Kathmandu, and each one is enough to bring the city to a standstill.  Strikers set fire to any vehicles on the streets, so roads are all bizarrely devoid of cars, motorcycles, etc.  Likewise, the metal doors of the shops slam shut throughout the city, though I never found out whether it was the protesters or police who enforced this city-wide lockdown.  The few storekeepers brave enough to stay open plant themselves at the front of their stores, ready to jump up and shut down at a moment’s notice.  Given that I didn’t know any of this (quite the field researcher I am), I was confused when I woke up to the sound of chanting on Monday morning, and surprised when Bhupi rang the hotel to warn us to be careful as we wended our way to the VIN office, and to run if things looked violent. When I asked what the strikers were protesting, Bhupi replied, “Everything.  Nothing.”  It turned out that on this particular day, the protesters were protesting the last protest—one man was killed, and they felt the government hadn’t investigated the matter thoroughly enough for their liking.  The early morning trip to the office was no problem—David and I pushed through a crowd of maybe 50 chanting men outside the police headquarters, no damage done.  By the afternoon, however, the strike had grown and spread to the radius of a kilometer, the protesters now armed with rocks, the police with sticks and guns.  We warily made the two kilometer journey back towards the hotel, stopping twice when a group of protesters came charging in our direction, running away from… what?   We didn’t know.  We breathed a sigh of relief when we finally approached the bridge that would lead us to safety.  As we passed one last (especially large) group of protesters to our right, we turned left to escape the madness, only to discover we were right in the heart of it.  To our surprise, a swarm of police officers blanketing the bridge on our left were facing off with the group of protesters on our right, and we were smack in the middle of no man’s land.  I stood for a moment, totally stupefied.  I felt like I’d been transported into my television—it was exactly the kind of thing you’d see on the evning news, taking place in some distant land a million miles from reality… but there I was, standing in the eye of the hurricane, watching the protesters ready to hurl their rocks at the police and the police prepared to fire their weapons or wield their sticks.  Protests in Nepal can turn violent in a split second, but fortunately, this one didn’t in the split second it took us to hightail it out of there. 

I have nothing but good things to say about my first few days at the Kavre Deaf School in Banepa (not the Banepa Deaf School in Kavre, as I originally believed… Banepa is the name of the city, Kavre is the name of the district (i.e. state)).  I’ve spent the week observing classes, taking in as much as I can before I start filming and teaching.  There’s so much to learn—sign language, sign names, written names, Nepali, and all sorts of filmy stuff!  It’s been a brain workout, to be sure.  On the second day, Krishna (my host mother and the head teacher) took me to observe the fourth and sixth grade first period class… or so I thought.  When we got to the classroom, she said to me, “Two teachers are absent today.  Teach!” and took off before I could protest!  Caught off guard without any lesson plans and very limited knowledge of Nepali Sign Language, I thought it would be a disaster!  It turned out that the students were eager to learn ASL, and I was happy to oblige.  We spent the next two hours (!) covering colors, animals, family members, and the ways you’d introduce yourself in America.  My host mothers founded the deaf school fifteen years ago after taking an interest in sign language (!), but my real teachers have been the children and the two deaf teachers.  One of the teachers, Sharmila, knows (and speaks!) quite a bit of English, and the other, Thulo, knows more ASL than I do.  They’ve been incredibly patient with me, teaching me informally during their breaks, and helping me follow the lessons when I observe their classes.  I’m picking up the signs more quickly than I expected—about 1/3 are similar to ASL, 1/3 are similar to Tamil Sign Language, and 1/3 are brand new, but easy enough, I suppose.  The students learn English every day, know how to fingerspell the English alphabet, and have a Nepali-English-Nepali Sign Language dictinary.  Thanks to the National Federation of the Deaf and Hard of Hearing (NFDH), Nepal is light years ahead of Tamil Nadu.  It’s not without problems, as I’m sure I’ll continue to discover, but the deaf and hard of hearing have organized themselves on a national level, and they’ve taken control of their own lives, and that makes ALL the difference.

Next Saturday, Rahdu (my other host mother) is running a free screening for cervical and breast cancer (my host mothers are so inspirational!), and I’ve volunteered to lend a hand, so this will be the last you hear from me for the next two weeks!  Be well, and I’ll write again once the filming starts!