Carmen Sandiego

Katie Hilborn: Modeling, Spoke Modeling, Acting, Public Speaking

2015-10-24T15:23:00.000-07:00

Katie Hilborn

Modeling, Spoke Modeling, Acting, Public Speaking

Dole Fruit Campaign

MobiFone Television Advertisement

DewTour Skier/Snowboarder Fashion Show

IndieGoGo Campaign Launched!

2014-09-21T19:22:00.001-07:00

Help me build a farm for

low-caste schools in Nepal!

Our new campaign on IndieGoGo has just been launched! We are heading to Nepal in November to build a farm to support education in Nepal. You too can help the cause by making a donation and receiving some AMAZING perks! Perks include trips to Nepal, Mount Everest Trekking Expeditions, Cow Photography, and more!

Please help share my campaign on Social Media, email, and Word-of-Mouth! Visit http://igg.me/at/SchoolFarm to get involved!!!

A Himalayan Delivery; from a Writer's Eyes

2014-02-06T22:55:00.000-08:00

A Himalayan Delivery; from a Writer's Eyes

The second half of my journey through the Himalayas bring me below the looming Annapurna Range without an ounce of technology. All my camera batteries, were as if, the life had been completely drained. Could it be the Universe trying to tell me something because for the first time in a long time, I was forced to write. Documenting my experience through prose was something I had not done in years.

As I write, I sit at the top of the mountain ridge on a narrow cobblestone pathway with a steep drop on one side. Above me welcomes the uninterrupted apex of the snow capped Himalaya while below, across the ravine lay stairs of rice paddy fields in long column terraces intermingled with columns of trees. From the bottom, the sound of rushing water echoes off the canyon wall. I can't see the river from my vantage point, but I imagine sheer cliffs hugging large boulders that have intermittently fallen many a century ago.

A Nepalese girl walks down our stair. She has Tibetan eyes, rosy cheeks, and a blue and maroon stripped shawl over her shoulder.

"Namaste Biani," I say. She replies the same, then disappears within three steps over the ridge on our cobblestoned path.

I feel like I'm sitting on a stairway for giants watching them ascend up the terrace, into the mist while continuing the 18,000-feet more to their kingdoms in the clouds. We, the human is nothing but an ant; making our way over our own mountains and stairways.

I'm briefly interrupted by an elderly man carrying a basket on his back that is strapped to his forehead. Dipak, my Nepalese brother whom I've been hiking with, speaks with the man.

"He carrie Roxy, local wine," Dipak informs.

"Ask him how many kilos," I inquire.

After a minute of calculation, he exclaims, "60 kilo Katie." The teahouses buy a great deal of Roxy for their foreign trekkers who will gladly pay top dollar after a long day's hike.

"Where does he walk from Dipak?' I say quite curiously.

They continue to discuss further in Nepali.

He departs every morning from the bottom of the mountain at 5am, walking continuously up steep stairs until he reaches his destination at 11am in the village of Ghandruk. The tea house gives him one glass of Roxy and pays him 250 rupees ($2.50) for his effort.

The frail man is 5-feet-tall.

Dipak gives him a cigarette and as the old man sits on the stair-ledge with an eternity behind him, Dipak crouches over to him and lights the tobacco. He chats closely with him speaking softly in Nepali. I imagine they are speaking about life and hardships, but also reflecting on the joys of living in this beautiful heaven of the Himalayas.

"Dipak, what are you talking about?" I eagerly solicit.

He stands up with a laughing smile.

"Oh this man he all the time walking 60 kilos. So all the time drinking Roxy. So Katie, what'cha ya do? I say. This man, drinking and walking big problem for you! Even-ing time big problem!" he explains.

Dipak's good heart is trying to convince the man to stop drinking while walking the great Himalaya.

He continues.

"Then he say he has wife; and son in Dubai; and three daughters stay in home. So he working all the time money for family. So Katie, what'cha ya do? I say."

I'm saddened by this man's tribulation. I've just finished walking six hours along this same path with no load upon my back. It's beyond arduous; the up-and-down thousands-upon-thousands of stairs, climbing ridge-over-ridge. I couldn't imagine doing what he does, every day, at his age, for $2.50.

I think life can sometimes be quite egregious. Observing others can allow one to reflect upon their own struggles realizing that we really have none in comparison.

Dipak stands up from his crouching position and informs me that it's time to leave. I want to take a picture of this moment because it has been so special for me, and I'm saddened by my failing equipment.

I'm going to try to turn on my camera, I protest. Pulling all the energy I can muster from my surroundings, I place my hands one last time on my camera. A surge flows from my fingertips.

It turns on; just long enough for one solo picture of Dipak and the old man.

Then, just as the wind carries away the moment, the camera shuts down and the man too picks up his basket and disappears over the ridge to continue on his journey.

We came to buy a cow; they wanted a school

2013-03-01T23:06:00.000-08:00

We came to buy a cow; they wanted a school

How a 23-hour bus journey, an idea lost-in-translation, and a bout of E.Coli helped shape one backpacker's destiny and transformed an entire village.

40-minute walk to the village school site.

Blog originally written August 2011.

Traveling through the Himalayan foothills at night by bus might not be the safest method of travel. The road ahead is windy, it’s generally safe to assume a 500-foot drop is on one side, and the only thing you can see are the headlights from an oncoming bus as it swerves back into its own lane to avoid a near-miss collision.

Though dangerous, night travel was inevitable as our twenty-hour journey brought us from the Himalayan foothills to the jungle lowlands near the Indian border of Nepal. As we stepped off the bus, the calidity began to stir-fry our brains as a single sweat bead rolled off our foreheads. It was like an oven – hot and miserable, hundred degrees with humidity, and miles from anything remotely considered civilization.

The villagers of Udaypur welcomed us with open arms and a nicely prepared curry. Their wood huts on stilts, above water-filled rice fields added to the Asian ambiance and intrigue.

They were happy to see us, as my Nepalese friend brought me with to see how I could help. After purchasing cows to give families a form of sustainability months prior, I thought this was a perfect way to spend the remaining dollars in my fund.

So you’ll understand my surprise when all they wanted was a school. My plan had obviously been lost-in-translation.

"Um Dipak, why exactly do these people think I am here?" I asked inquisitively. "Do they think I am coming to build a school?'

"Oh yes yes Katie, just see how we help. No worries," he replied nonchalantly.

But the fact remained that they indeed wanted a school. They had enough cows to last them a lifetime. The $500 that I brought with for the purchase of a cow was erroneous. Had I traveled all this way for nothing?

I was disappointed, but ate my curry dinner that was so eloquently prepared. The following morning I woke with a bout of E.coli. Nothing is more enjoyable in life than being plagued with a stomach bug in 100 degree heat with no toilets or running water.

I was miserable and nauseous; I could not even pull myself up from the straw bed. The outhouse in the back did not suffice my wailing woes.

But even still, the villagers insisted that I make the journey to the school site the following day. I was under the assumption that this would just be a preliminary visit. Little did I realize, they had planned a ceremony in my honor that I was meant to attend. We made the 40-minute journey by foot crossing through rice plantations to the school site.

Fainting under the jungle sun shortly before ceremony

I was in no condition to do much of anything. The walk was long and laborious. Fainting under the jungle sun five minutes prior was really my last draw. Going in-and-out of coherency during the entire walk to the school, I questioned my decision in coming to the village and immediately wanted to go back to the comforts of Kathmandu.

Upon standing back up, I saw the hundred or so people from a distance.

“Oh my God! Quick, full power,” I exclaimed as a little Nepalese lady fanned my face and put my hair into a pony tail.

I could not believe I was walking into a ceremony when I couldn’t even stand on my own! I splashed some water on my face to shake it off and on we went… with a person helping me on each arm.

Unexpected ceremony from the villagers

They adorned us with flower necklaces and each child presented a gift. I felt like I was hallucinating from a combination of the heat, the illness, and the fact that I was in the strangest place and participating in a ceremony so foreign to me. I was ecstatic, but also disappointed that one of the more special moments in my life had to be overshadowed by the E.coli.

I tried to stay collected as long as possible, but eventually ran off the stage to vomit into the bush. It was all a bit comical, as the children came running over to hover around and the village women were rubbing my back.

After another two days of rest I was strong enough to start eating again and collected my thoughts.

The village needed a school. The elders knew it was the only way for their children and generations below them to escape the endless cycle of hard, manual labor. They work the rice plantations from the time they can walk until the day they die. I met with the elders to discuss options.

Meetings with the Village Development Committee discussing options for a school.

I thought I was coming to the village to buy a few cows and was in no position financially or resourcefully to build a school. I am just one woman, I kept thinking to myself. How can they expect some backpacker like me to build an entire village a school?

I still did not conceive how this project could be funded, but then, just as serendipitous moments often occur, there was a secret donor amongst our group. My French travel companion gave his Buddhist necklace from around his neck and placed it on mine.

“It means invincible and whoever wears it is just that. Here is some money to start the school. You come back and finish it.”

The Village Development Committee

It was just enough money for the foundation and enough belief from someone for an idea to be born. The entire following year back in States will be a long and arduous work of collecting funds for the Koshi Tappu Primary School.

As I hopped on my bus about to head back up into the foothills, the children came running behind it waving goodbye.

“I will return,” I told them. “This is my promise to you.”

Update: Katie returned one year later with the funds as promised. The school is now complete as of November 2012.

Getting Paid to go on Adventures in Far-Flung Countries

2013-02-24T01:24:00.002-08:00

Excerpt from International Living article, original post May 09, 2012

I had been staying in the tranquil Nepalese tourist town of Pokhara for a month when a travel writing assignment came in. It involved researching retirement in Nepal - and I needed to find some expats.

As I sat drinking my morning chai at a lakefront breakfast joint, I wondered where all the Westerners were hiding. I had seen only a handful since I arrived, and they all seemed to be just passing through. Then it dawned on me - sitting there, across the lake perched high on a lush green ridge next to a magnificent white Buddhist stupa, sat an ornate Newari-style guesthouse.

I had heard that it was owned by an expat from England who made Nepal her home after visiting the country for 20 consecutive years.

"Perfect," I thought.

Now all I had to do was figure out how to get there. The most common route was apparently to hire a canoe and paddle across the lake, but with my deadline approaching, I needed a faster route. I would need to rent a moped.

To continue reading, full article can be found at International Living.

Nepal Mob & Barricade Footage

2013-02-22T04:41:00.000-08:00

Nepal Mob & Barricades

*This blog is the accompanying footage for a previous blog, found here.

I returned with funds in Summer 2012 to finish the school I started one-year prior. While driving to my school site in Nepal, I encounter a Banda (strike). Assassination attempts on political leaders occurred that morning. The leaders barely survived, and at the time of filming, the outcome looked bleak. Unaware of the reasons for protest, I face several mob barricades, and plea with locals to let me pass.

You Give Me Child; I Give You Organ

2012-07-21T20:09:00.002-07:00

Little girls are taken from their family villages and sold to India for prostitution.

A few weeks ago I traveled to Kathmandu with one purpose; to set up meetings with INGOs and make an inquiry at the U.S. Embassy regarding Nepal's 'orphan problem.'

I met my American friend in Kathmandu (she is furthering her nursing skills at a hospital near Chitwan National Park), and we both ventured down to the U.S. Embassy. When I attended the 4th of July party last summer at their park, I was able to speak frankly with a diplomat at a nearby picnic table. He helped me with my vision to start an NGO.

U.S. Embassy, Kathmandu Nepal

However, entering the U.S. Embassy was far different. Speaking through a thick glass pane was not what I had hoped for. Once being able to hide notice of this obstacle, I switched my first impression of 'pretentious' towards the woman to something more flattering like 'genuine' -- which she was.

It must be hard working for an embassy in a 3rd world country that is shifting from a liberation movement into a communist society. You know all the evils that lurk in the politics, and the corruption, and who's involved. But! As a good diplomatic organization, you are bound by ethics to not get involved. You must stay jurisdictional while sitting in the heart of the vulture's nest.

I was redirected to ask elsewhere.

The problem with orphan homes in Nepal is that they all have children with living parents. Volunteerism is the biggest money-making scheme in Nepal.

The Money-Making Business of Orphan Homes:

Right, so let's get down to the nit-and-gritty. There are two pressing issues why children are being placed into orphan homes.

The widowed or abandoned mothers are forced to give them up.
The children are being taken from their families and trafficked into the orphan homes.

Through my website www.GlobalOrphanPrevention.com, we are aware of the situation surrounding widowed and abandoned mothers. However, child trafficking is a whole new can of worms.

Following two leads, I contacted two organizations that are involved. But just like the Embassy, they too cannot get involved on a personal level. It would jeopardize their current projects going on in the country.

The situation is much deeper than any of us could imagine. People in power convince small villages to trust them with their children. The families pay 20,000 Rs (US$233) to send their child to a private boarding school in Kathmandu. However, once the trafficker and the child reach Kathmandu, the girls are sold to India for prostitution while the boys are taken to Orphan Homes. The orphan home directors on 'in' on this operation. They gladly accept the child (even though they fully have knowledge of their living parents). They accept the children because they can make money off the volunteers who come to Nepal. They over-charge the Westerner money to volunteer claiming this is for rent, food, and utilities. This amount is sometimes double or triple the actual cost to run one of these homes.

In other cases, the boys (particularly around the age of 12) are also sold to India, but in this case it's for their organs.

The Street-Children of Nepal:

There are 3,000 street children in Kathmandu. Most of them are boys. They have been taken from their families and many don’t remember where they came from.

Children that have been trafficked from the villages to Kathmandu.

They belong to a ring (think Oliver Twist) and beg for money. The ring adults keep their earnings. Any spare change they receive, is used for the purchase of glue (to huff). This suppresses their hunger pains. The children are beaten, kicked, and sleep on the sidewalks while loud cars and motorbikes blow smog into their sleeping faces.

These 3,000 street children have no where to go.

They ask me for money. I must refuse. I know where their money goes. I cannot help you my little boy I think. But they don’t understand and tug on your shirt and with their tiny voices and plead “Please money, money. Money please. Hunger. Please.”

Perhaps the only three English words they know.

I must stop them. I know where it goes. I can’t even buy them milk. These young ones have figured it out. The milk is sold back to the shop keepers for 10 rupees less than what the tourist paid.

My breaking point was two days ago. I had been having to turn down the children all week, and at this moment, I had just got out of a meeting about the trafficking problem. My brain was on sensory overload.

A disabled boy with no legs at the knee was pulling his body along the sidewalk. I was waiting for my street food from the nice couple who make the best Nepalese chapatti wraps in the capital.

Homeless child on the street. There are over 3,000 street children in Kathmandu.

The boy sat at my feet and tugged on my dress. I stepped away and positioned myself with the street cart between us.

He crawled toward me, dragging his frail body against the hard, black asphalt. I was cornered completely. I waited anxiously hoping that my food would be finished. I kept thinking about how badly I wanted to give this little innocent boy some Rupees. For God sake, he has the most arduous life.

When social programs and disability help is minimal, if non-existent at all, these children are left to fend for themselves. So who helps the untouchable? I fear they too are apart of that same ring.

The tugging was relentless. It took everything in me to refuse his demand.

It broke my heart to say ‘no’. I was angry that I couldn’t help him. Angry that another adult human being made his life so harsh. Angry that another human being took him from his parents with false promises.

But that’s Nepal. It’s India too.

Corruption 101:

I’ve never seen this kind of corruption in any of the countries I have visited. Of course, some degrees of corruption exist in most developing nations, but to me it seems like Nepal has a serious problem.

The varying degrees of corruption can and do change between the continents; but within a subcontinent, the type of corruption seems to follow a pattern, in my opinion.

In East Africa, for example, wildlife refuges, national parks, and protected areas generate a large portion of the GDP. Gorilla trek in Uganda ($500). Climbing Kilimanjaro ($1000). Multi-day safari though Lake Manyara, Ngorongoro, and Serengeti ($350).

The large money coming in from tourism teemed with endless poverty and terrible infrastructure gives wise to the notion that the money is being handled improperly.

Think the Gilded Age. A Boss Tweed for every country. It was America at the height of our Industrial Age and it has now fully hit the 3rd world. If history repeats itself, then perhaps there is a ray of hope for these nations -- but at the moment this is the cold, hard truth.

So yes, to think that corruption does not exist in every facet of this world is naive, but to use corruption to take advantage of the volunteer is beyond precedent. While Nepal too generates a lot of income from tourism, it's in a far more dismal way. The orphan home directors are getting rich from the innocence of the good-hearted volunteer. And who's backing the orphan homes -- several well-known public officials.

Police officer accepting a bribe so we could leave Kathmandu

They have a saying in Nepal when one decides to become a politician; the salary is the bonus.

I can't even begin to tell you the sadness that overcomes the volunteers' face when I tell them the children not only have living parents, but have most likely been trafficked from the poor villages in the far reaches of the country.

It's heart breaking for me as well, but they need to know. And they need to know alternative solutions on how they can help (solutions I will suggest in a future blog).

Keep a look-out for a continuation looking into the evils of voluntourism, child trafficking, and corruption...

Mobs, Barricades, and Schools Oh My!

2012-07-06T06:06:00.000-07:00

Mobs, Barricades, & Schools - Oh My!

We arrived in Bhagalpur late last Monday night, nearly past midnight. It took much longer to get there than any of us had imagined. 16 hours to be exact, about six more than what was projected.

We had the usual mishaps along the way! And by usual, I mean in the Nepalese sense. Possibly for any other country, what we encountered would be quite unusual.

Assassinations, Strikes and Roadblocks:

Shortly after our departure, a Banda was called in response to an assignation attempt on three leaders of the Maoists Party. If you recall, the Maoists were responsible for the overthrow of the King in 2006. They rebelled for the decade prior seeking political and social change. The Maoists were the peasants who saw a change in leadership ideal for their voice as commoners. Through propaganda (some believe), the rest of society was convinced of the need for this revolution.

However, after six years since the overthrow, Nepal has gotten much worse. Those who originally supported the cause are now rethinking their positions and many believe the monarch was better for the economy.

My position is still unclear. I can only communicate what I see, and what I see is a dwindling currency, a country without a constitution, I see corruption at every level (particularly police and politicians), I see rising prices for dry goods and produce, and I see innocent villagers suffering the most at the hand of an unstable government.

Nepal, I fear, is at the brink of an economic downturn and a political uprising. There is no real (or least respected) leader. The Prime Minister they do have gets booed in public while university students hold protests calling for his resignation. Now yesterday, three leaders of the Maoists have been shot with the intention to kill.

Bandas (strikes) were called closing down all roadways. The one road in and out of the Kathmandu came to a standstill.

We were held up for hours while traffic was blocked in both directions. It was a full-on gridlock of Nepalese vehicles, sometimes four deep on a narrow Himalayan mountain road meant for two.

I felt like the crowd of people standing around and in-between the cars, buses, and motorbikes were going to accidentally push me off the 300-foot ledge drop. I retracted away from the cliff and sat back inside the small hot Suzuki taxi decked out in racing strips we hired to drive us from Pokhara to the village. (Not that I prefer racing cars for cross-country road trips, but these are the norm for taxi appearance!)

“This could take hours!” I professed quite loudly with a huff of frustration. “I have a school to build!”

Another hour passed while sitting in gridlock. I myself was melting from the exhaust blowing into my window from the large buses that had us surrounded on three sides. It was taking everything in me to not storm right up to them and demand that their engines be shut off.

But alas, my annoyances were met, as traffic started moving again. Someone, somewhere had the idea to walk up the mile-long traffic line and direct the smaller cars and micros to pull through while the buses waited.

Rounding another two corners, it was clear to me that we were going nowhere fast. Further, up the road in Munling, the road splits off; those going to Pokhara veer right while anyone wanting to head down to the Terai must take the left. Pokhara traffic was given the green light; everyone else would have to wait until 5pm when the strike was finished. It was 10am when I heard the news.

“We must get through,” I pleaded with Dipak, Nabin, and the taxi driver.

“Oh no, this is impossible Katie,” Dipak explained. “They don’t let anyone through during Banda.

I refused to take ‘no’ for an answer and stormed right up to the mob of people blocking the road. They looked like they were about to riot. During Bandas, the mobs will generally injury the drivers and demolish the vehicles of those who try to pass the barricade.

This information did not deter me. I put on my charm and pleaded with them to let me through.

“I’m building a school for poor people in Koshi Tappu! I must get through. I have very limited time,” I explained in the most sincere voice.

After 15 minutes of Nepalese negotiation, I think someone said okay, so I ran back around the corner and motioned for the traffic driver to start pushing our vehicle through the herd that had considerable gotten bigger since I first spoke.

They searched the vehicle for our contents to confirm we were headed to Koshi Tappu for this school project.

There was chaos while I escorted the car through the crowd. People were yelling and some looked very angry that I was trying to break the barricade.

We eventually broke free, and with the largest smile I could muster, I kept repeating ‘Dand-u-bhat’ (thank you) as we walked away.

Excitement filled the car as we sped off down the gorge. The plus side was that the roads were now clear for hours.

The negative side, we had to go through several more police checkpoints and one final mob barricade.

The Village and Project:

The school is half way finished. There had been another delay due to electricity problems. The carpenter who is making the doors and window frames only has electricity for a few periods in the day for use of his table saw. If we recall, Nepal participates in load shedding, which means power is cut for several large portions of the day/nights for sale to India.

The villagers haven’t been able to work full-time for this reason. They’ve built as much as they can of the structure, but until the doors and window frames are installed, they cannot continue.

This puts construction back one more month.

I made the 45-minute walk to the school site from Bhagalpur, where we are staying. Dipak’s Aunt and Uncle have graciously allowed for use of their home. Ba (grandfather) has given me his bedroom, which comes with a fan and several breezy windows. It is more than generous.

That evening, we had Pork Dal Bhat! They killed a pig – it was nasty as I predicted, but I kept reminding myself that bacon is delicious. Providing I didn’t find any eyeballs in my curry, I kept thinking I could manage this beast.

I have met the 10 labors, three on-site managers, and four teachers. I presented the enrichment material that I purchased in Kathmandu. The teachers were more than ecstatic. Though minimal by American standards, I had to remind myself that sometimes the best can't be done.

There’s a dozen or so ways to create the perfect classroom, but in Nepal that is just not possible.

I bought every chart that was available from Everest Publishing Company! I literally took their catalog and ordered one of each.

Then I went to ETK Books where I purchased more charts (Good Habits, Medicinal Plants, Parts of a Body, Multiplication Tables). I tried to find the most useful visual aids but considering what I have to work with it’s difficult.

I started compiling the books for the library from the government bookstore. My Nepalese friend Yogi took me to all the shops in Kathmandu the week prior

Buying products here in Nepal is not that simple. They really don’t have warehouses or bulk purchase options. You really can’t order online or even over the phone! There definitely aren’t any websites.

So first, how did I go about this? Trial and error I suppose.

First, I went to a local primary school and got the name of the bookshops where the textbooks and charts were purchased. Then I went to those bookshops, which then directed me to the publishing company. Often times, the publisher was in India, but the ones located in Nepal I was able to drive to.

This process took the entire day! However, once I finally arrived to the source I was able to negotiate a discount on my purchases.

“The American people are paying for the school to be built,” I explained. “Now I ask that the Nepalese people help contribute to the cause as well.”

This generally seemed to touch their hearts in some form, and every place I visited was able to give me a decent discount. One publisher donated an entire series of textbooks for the teachers to use!

What the Teachers are Asking For:

At the moment, school enrollment has increased from 75 students to now over 100! As soon as the villagers heard of a new school being built, many enrolled their children.

Wonderful news of course, but now this means that our original building size is too small! This also means that two more teachers need to be hired! Let me worry about the school addition later, but right now, we must focus on finding the funds to hire more teachers.

I am exploring all options for funding, with a focus on sustainability. Yes, I could pay the teacher’s salary for one more year, but this does not solve the problem after I’ve left. We need a more solid form of funding, and I’d like to focus on income generation for the school.

I’d like to continue my idea for the Sivapuri ‘low-caste’ Primary School I visited outside Pokhara a few weeks back. That being, using animal husbandry as a source of income generation for the school.

I’ve discussed my idea with my on-site managers in Tappu and they are keen to it. We are exploring options of a possible chicken farm. A simple investment for me, but a large return for them. Just like the Sivapuri Income-Generation Project, this school too could wreak the benefits from this type of sustainability.

Every two months, 200 chickens could yield 108,000 rupees (US$1241). That’s 648,000 rupees ($7448) a year. The annual salary for four teachers is 384,000 rupees ($4413). We are still calculating the overhead, but the possibility of a decent profit margin is very feasible.

I will leave you now with this notion of sustainability fresh in your heads. I am open for suggestions if anyone would like to give their two cents!

Look back in a few days for an updated blog!

Why Can't I Touch the Untouchables?

2012-06-27T07:21:00.001-07:00

Why Can't I Touch the Untouchables?

A Nepalese friend Krish asked me to come visit the school site when I first arrived in Pokhara two weeks back. This was Krish's childhood village and he said they desperately needed help.

Krish comes from a higher caste with the surname Poudel. This subclass derives from the Brahmin caste comprising of educators, scholars, and Vedic priests. However the people that live in this village are of low-caste and considered "lower than livestock." They are the "untouchables" of Nepal.

The Untouchable:

Dalit status has often been historically regarded as ritually impure, such as any involving butchering, leatherwork, removal of garbage, animal Caracas, and waste. Dalits work as manual laborers clearing streets, latrines, and sewers. Engaging in these activities are considered to be polluting to the individual, and this pollution is considered contagious (Anti-Slavery.org).

As a result, Dalits are commonly segregated, and banned from full participation in Hindi social life. For example, they cannot enter a temple or a school, and are required to stay outside the village. Business owners will not hire them and landlords will not rent to them in fear of getting this "contamination" or being ostracized from their peers.

Last summer I met Krish at the guesthouse I was staying at. He had just got back from a week of guiding trekkers through the Annapurna region. He found out what I was trying to accomplish with sustainability and inquired about me helping his village.

I posted a volunteer recruitment placement on a website. Nearly a year later, I found him a volunteer to run and implement the English program he wanted to start at the local primary school.

That man (a retired businessman form India) happened to be in Nepal the same week I wanted to visit the school. We all traveled there together to see how we could help.

A Lesson in Humanity:

When we arrived, the school welcomed us to be apart of their academic ceremony. We sat at the head of the room with beautifully adorned flower necklaces and the ceremonial red mark on the forehead.

Two British twin boys, aged 11, who accompanied us on our school visit played soccer excitedly with their new school chums. Laughing, tossing the ball, hugging, smiling ear-to-ear.

Later that afternoon, I informed them about what it meant to be a Dalit. It brought tears to their little blue innocent eyes (and to mine as well).

"How can anybody hate them?" desperately asked Sammy. "There just children."

I knew how they were feeling. Learning about inequality and the harsh realities of life. It was disheartening for us all.

"These boys will always be our friends," exclaimed the twin Tally. "They will know that they are loved."

I hope this was a lesson for all the boys that day; Dalits and un-Dalits alike. We're all the same. A last name shouldn't dictate your job (and your rights)... for the rest of your life.

What Can We Do?

The following morning, we brainstormed for hours. The Indian man was clearly on a different agenda and wanted to build a Woofing compound in which volunteers would come and stay on this sustained land. In turn they would help the school and village with their services.

While a good idea in theory, the problem was moderation; an area that I did not want to partake in. The notion keeps returning to the idea of sustainability. How do we keep these people sustained after we leave? Where is the job skill or empowerment?

I shifted the focus and wanted to instead create animal husbandry that could, in effect, generate income for the school. We would hire the teenage boys to maintain the animals while the profits would be put directly back into the school.

Krish has the idea of purchasing 10-14 pigs. The annual income generated from the sale of a pig farm of this size equates to 250,000 rupees (US $2841). This little amount by American standards is more than enough to help sustain a primary school in Nepal.

The Prince and the Pauper:

Krish and I gave the project idea two thumbs up, however it was our more philosophical British counterparts that questioned the idea.

The pig in Nepal is considered the lowliest animal on the totem pole. Culturally, those of higher caste will not eat pork because the pig is considered unclean (it consumes it's own fecal matter). This notion of uncleanliness originated from Islam and has been carried over into the Hindi caste culture as well.

The question then arises; are we contributing to the problem that the Dalits are already bound to? The pigs are a cheap and swift way to "fix" the problem. More desirable animals like cows and buffalo are expensive and at-the-moment, I personally don't have the money or resources to accommodate this.

My primary focus belongs to my school project. The idea of pigs are a quick solution that can be implemented immediately. Something that can be completed before I head to the jungle.

The question still abounds; should we really be giving a low-caste person a low-caste form of income generation? Are purchasing Dalit pigs as a source of sustainability better than investing in nothing at all? Are we indirectly creating the endless cycle of poverty that becomes hard to break free of?

Give a man a broom and he comes a pauper; give a man empowerment and he becomes the prince.

Perhaps the age-old question still remains. Who's going to be the pauper and who is lucky enough to become the prince? Who gets to make these decisions?

Tappu School Project: Week One

2012-06-07T10:46:00.000-07:00

Tappu School Project: Week One

POKHARA, NEPAL -- I arrived in Nepal last Friday and have been busy getting the ball rolling so we can begin the construction of the school. I am currently working on the project from Pokhara because of the accessibility to ATMs, internet connection, and most importantly... my translator! I will travel down to the village in 1-2 weeks time. It's about a 18-23 hour journey by bus from Kathmandu, so I am letting the workers get a head-start on the school before I venture into the jungle!

Working on the budget with Dipak at his restaurant

It has been near-to-impossible to organize anything from America. To begin with, communication in Nepal is arduous. Dipak, my Nepalese translator and friend (who's family village we are helping) is very difficult to understand over the mobile. It's a lot of "Hugh? What? Say again!" then the call will drop. Not fun.

I had dreams of getting the project started before I came, then arriving with the school nearly completed. This would allow me more time to organize the purchases of enrichment material and work on curriculum development. But alas, doing business in Nepal can not be done over the phone. The country is simply just not setup for this.

School Budget Reform:

Since I arrived last Friday, Dipak has been communicating my questions to the Village Development Committee (VDC) of Tappu over the phone. They gave me a make-shift budget for the school project last October and then again in March. I needed the final and revised version. This is generally how our 'phone meetings' go;

Working on budget at traditional Nepalese "donut shop" in downtown.

I ask Dipak to call my project manager Sitra Ram in Tappu to ask for the revised budget. He then goes around to each person's home in the village who reside on the development committee (12 in total). Sitra Ram is the only person with a mobile, so once he walks to each persons' home, this takes up to a full-day. They meet and discuss the budget.

The following morning, Sitra Ram phones Dipak with the news. Of course, I have a dozen questions and adjustment requests. Dipak owns a restaurant, so we can only meet when it's not busy. It takes a full-day until Dipak can phone Sitra Ram back. Now, Sitra Ram has my new questions and concerns and again goes around to everyone's home in the village. He can give me an answer the next day.

And so this process continues until finally, after one week, we are able to create a reasonable construction proposal for the school that I approve of.

I had an audience while writing some notes!

The budget is considerably more than they told me in March. I saw this coming (because I know how business is run in Nepal), so I over-shot the fundraising goals at the Musicians for Nepal Benefit. There are several reasons why this has occurred.

Nepal's Economy and Inflation:

The Nepalese government is very corrupt and disorganized. Cost-of-living for the Nepalese person has nearly doubled in the last six months, while wages have stayed the same. This includes things like rice, eggs, petrol, milk, livestock... but most importantly, construction material! While material has doubled, it isn't hurting my budget too much because the value of the dollar has risen (last summer it was trading at US$1=70 rupees and now it's at 85 rupees). This inflation is more-so severely hurting the livelihoods of the Nepalese. This is why it is now more important than ever that we continue to help them.

I believe the locals are now starting to see that having a Monarch was a good idea. Many people that I have spoken with hope for the return of a King, though it is not very probable. When the Maoists overthrew the King in 2006, they had hopes of creating a democratic or parliamentary government but in truth, it really has turned into a Communist society. The government has yet been able to create a constitution -- something they have been working on since '06. They sell Nepal's power supply to India and China to serve the increasing needs of those populations. However, the cost for them is only two rupees per kilowatt while the Nepalese are forced to pay 10 rupees per kilowatt.

And we mustn't forget all the revenue that tourism generates for the country. Where is that going? How is that being spent? You can ask any Nepalese person and they are unable to give an answer. The economy and living standards for most people are not good here. I have seen for myself that the government is getting worse off since I was here last summer. This can be evident by the dwindling currency value.

Phase 1 of the school - began Summer '11

Next Step for School Project:

The next hiccup will now occur with getting my money from my Global Orphan Prevention bank account into my hands here in Nepal. Bank fees, bank fees, and more crappy bank fees! In addition, the Nepalese banks only allow for $500 to be pulled out per day. It will take three days until I can collect enough money to give the VDC a deposit for the building

The good news; construction starts back up again on Monday!

Last summer, we gave the VDC a small grant to begin Phase I, which consisted of a foundation and pavilion. Phase II will be constructing walls, framing, roofing, plumbing, and buying enrichment material!

School enrollment has increased from 75 children to now over 100 since last Summer. At the moment, they only have two teachers. I am trying to see if there is room in the budget to hire on two more. I believe this is more than necessary.

The children utilize the space under the pavilion during construction

I am currently accepting donations for this. The money we raised in Colorado and from out-of-state private donors this year was primarily for the building, enrichment material, and two teachers' salaries providing we had anything left over.

If anyone out there would like to sponsor a teacher's annual salary, we could really use this. The annual salary is US$850 per teacher (depending on the exchange rate at that moment). You can just do it once for this year, or make it a yearly contribution with your tax refunds (and of course, this too is tax deductible).

Please email me at klhilborn@hotmail.com if this is something you'd like to get directly involved in.

One Night in Thailand and the World's your Oyster

2012-05-21T20:57:00.002-07:00

One Night in Thailand and the World's your Oyster

Emerald Bay, on Patong Beach

It did feel slightly strange to me -- walking back to the hotel last night with five bodyguards in tow. This was generally the method of travel while in Virote's presence. He had just showed me an amazing evening in Patong. Despite having a private driver and security escorts between each destination, I was able to experience how the Thai people do nightlife.

I kept wondering how I managed to get myself into this situation, having never asked for it nor sought after it. I never imagined that I would be staying in luxurious beach hotels, taking beautiful island excursions, or having access to Virote's chauffeur to take me where ever I dreamt.

This past week in Phuket has been one of the strangest I have experienced. And having been to twenty-one countries, this does say a lot.

I've been confused at my good fortunes and I'm not sure how these things tend to happen. You see, I came to Thailand really with no plan or direction. I didn't even buy the Lonely Planet this time around, which has been my Bible for so many years. I am on my way to Nepal to execute the construction of a school and Thailand was my extended layover. I still don't know how long I'll stay, but everything seems to be working out in my favor.

After spending two days in Bangkok visiting an old family friend, I returned back to the airport to take a flight down to the large tropical and hilly island of Phuket; which is a base point for many seeking to island hop in the nearby quintessential Thai surroundings. Such an area generally embodies clear turquoise waters teemed with white sandy beaches and large grey rock formations with green tops that jet straight up sporadically throughout the area. A Thai local told man said they used these rock structures for the floating island scenes in Avatar.

As I boarded the shuttle at the airport to take me to the plane, Thai Orient, I sat down next to two very interesting and intriguing Thai people. The man resembled the Thai version of John Lennon, with his all white outfit, (faux) leather jacket, long black wavy hair, and purple circular sunglasses. The woman, had her silky black hair neatly done in a large bun with the most pretty flower resting on the side. Her magenta flowing traditional Thai wrap seemed to set her apart from the other modern women.

John Lennon and his fortune teller

They started to speak with me immediately. The lady, named Jureeporn was booked for a fortune telling gig at the Hilton and she and her husband were on their way. I told them I did not have a place to stay and asked where I could find a budget guesthouse.

"Oh haha," she said. "Nothing cheap on Phutket, it is most expensive island of Thailand."

Right, I thought. I'm screwed. I only budgeted for $5-$10 per night. Then, Mr. Lennon, adorned with Rolling Stones tattoos chimed in. "It's okay American lady, I have been given two hotel rooms, you take second one."

No, surely he's joking. "No I serious, you have," he said.

He wrote down the name of the hotel and his reservation number in my journal and said to call him if I had any problems at the reception.

Then, to make matters even more strange, upon boarding the plane I found I was booked for a business class seat. The confusion set in, as I only paid for economy. I glanced around wondering if I has mis-read my ticket. How does this happen? I thought.

While I am taking a holiday in Thailand before heading to Nepal, I already began my journey when I left America five days ago.

Are my good fortunes a result of Kharma? I'd like to think so, as I am a firm believer. A few years back when I went to Bolivia to volunteer my time at a wildlife refugee helping sick or abused monkeys and large cats that were rescued off the Black Market -- then too was I upgraded to business class on my journey over.

Perhaps Kharma knew then, as it does now, that the upcoming months were going to be difficult and exhausting and the average Westerner would never sacrifice their comforts to help the misfortune of others -- regardless if they believed it was necessary.

The Nepali village will be difficult. Last time, I got E.coli and have decided to return regardless of what may be in store. Kharma knows this and is thanking me accordingly. I can only pity the people who don't understand this -- who don't understand the greater humanity and purpose of life.

In recent weeks, I had three people question my motives regarding my Nepalese school project -- with the catalyst occurring shortly before I met the Thai fortune tellers on the shuttle.

I received comments concerning why I was not already in Nepal building the school. Accusations that I stole the money from my most recent fundraiser and have bolted town with the earnings. Silly, yes. And while I do not have to explain myself to these people, I really need to consider the type of people who are saying these things.

A friend of my Father's, who I have been visiting in Bangkok, said it best. The ones who would make such outrageous accusations would only think this because 1) they themselves would consider doing the same or 2) live in an environment where this is in the norm.

Really, we can only pity these people. They can't see others for who they really are. They're blinded by this facade that the general human population are corrupt. They fail to see the good in others and are quick to judge and give this 'guilty until proven innocent' mentality.

So before I continue my story, I'd like to spend these next few paragraphs clearing the air on my plan so I don't have to keep justifying myself to others.

Originally I wanted to head straight for Nepal and get this school project out of the way. Then after, I would take my Thai holiday. Either way, I had to connect through Bangkok. There are no direct flights to Kathmandu.

Heading to Nepal as soon as possible really was in my favor all-around.

After May, the lowlands where the village is located are unbearably hot. Last time I was there in July and I couldn't even think properly because my brain was turning into mashed potatoes. I was miserable in every way.
I simply wanted to get the school built so I could just relax and not have anyone to report to.

Unfortunately, as fate and life's hiccups throw at you, my French travel companion who was with me last summer to start the school and who committed to return with me to help finish it could not make it to Nepal until June for financial reasons.

I toyed with the idea of heading to the village without him and consulted by Board of Directors at length, for direction.

Last year when I got E.coli, I could have never made it emotionally without the support of my dear friend. He was hugely instrumental in insuring my success in initiating and executing the beginning stages of the school project. I truly believe, from the bottom of my heart that this would not be possible without his support. Truly.

When I heard he would not be joining me until June, I rearranged my plans to take my Thailand holiday first. And after traveling three days to get to this side of the world, I definitely thought it was merited.

So - to clear the air - I am not taking your donations and fleeing for paradise. Thank you to my true friends and family who would never have dreamt this possible. I know who you are.

Now, on to the good stuff. I'm in Phuket and having a far-flung adventure yet again!

Hotel in Patong

While Phuket did not encompass the clear pristine blue waters that I suspected upon arrival due to a week of torrential monsoons, it eventually cleared up and has been nothing but sunny and beautiful. I'm staying in a place called Patong, on the west coast of the island on the Andaman Sea. It's a bit touristy and over-priced -- an issue I might have been bummed about had not I been graciously given this beach-front room.

My new fortune teller friends, whom speak broken English, apparently are somewhat of a Thai celebrity. At the airport, I had lost them in the hustle and bustle of getting our bags. However later at the curb, as I was about to jump on a bus, a car pulled up with them inside. They told me to get in while their driver, whom I later found was a friend, took me to my hotel.

Jureeporn showed me a YouTube video of her weekly fortune telling TV program in Bangkok. Her husband, Kunttong, seemed to be -- from what I could gather, a famous musician. I asked to see his music, so they showed me a YouTube video of his onscreen presence. He also does fortune telling on the side -- and I later found -- after witnessing strangers come over to shake is hand, that he is a well respected man.

They dropped me at the hotel and said they would eventually return to collect me. It was later that evening during dinner where I met Virote; the 36-year-old hotel owner. I was a bit suspicious at first, after he waltzed in, grinning ear-to-ear in his Bermuda shorts and long wind blown hair. This man surely cannot be the owner, I thought. Then I noticed it. The Prada label on his glasses as he sat next to me. Ok I thought, perhaps these people are legit. My suspicion was further confirmed as the people in the restaurant bowed to him as he came in. How did I get here?

"You lucky lady," Kunttong said to me from across the table. "Mr. Virote very powerful man in Phuket."

"Oh really?" I inquired.

Koh Phi Phi Island

"Yes, he owns most of the city," said Kunttong. "Many hotel and businesses. He the president of the police too."

How can there be a president of the police? I wondered. But really, this was at the bottom of my questions that kept running through my head.

"So Kay-te, how do you know Kunttong?" Virote asked. "You know he very famous man in Thailand."

"Yes, I am beginning to see this." I continued on to explain my very precarious scenario on how I met my two new friends, then went on to say that I might be leaving the following morning.

Thai Theatreical Show

"On no, why don't you stay here? You will be my guest" Virote insisted. "I like American people very much." I suppose studying at the University of California had this outcome on him. He then snapped his fingers and over came one of his employees who booked me in his beachfront hotel for the following ten days. Of course this was all happening so fast and since I couldn't understand what anyone was saying due to language barrier, I've somehow managed to be booked full of trips for the next week; Ko Phi Phi, scuba diving adventures, city tours, and Thai theatrical shows to name a few.

Right, I guess I'm staying here. It's been in my favor not to have an itinerary. The best advice I ever received about traveling came from my friend and mentor Chad Thatcher back in '06. He said when you travel, only buy your plane ticket. You can have a vacuum itinerary, but you should never have a schedule. The best adventures in life generally occur when one goes with the flow and lets destiny dictate the course. I live by this philosophy.

All week, the same question kept running through my mind. Why is this happening to me? Why are these people so nice to me?

Ladyboys on the street of Patong

That evening was filled with dining, dancing, and ladyboys (more on that later). We had personal escorts wherever we went, even to the bathroom at the club Virote owned.

The following morning, while eating breakfast at the hotel with Kunttong, I asked him why he started speaking to me at the airport.

"You good person," he replied.

"How do you know?" I inquired. Maybe he knows because he's a fortune teller.

"I could just feel it. The moment I met you. It's not something that I see, but it's more of something I feel. You are radiating with good energy."

Is that why all these good things are happening to me, I wondered. If I had never met Kunttong, I would have never met Virote. And now somehow, I'm here in Phuket for a ten day stay that I never intended to have (or could have afforded).

"You have good things happen because you help many people," he added. "You have good heart."

So perhaps it is true. Kharma. Maybe everything is coming full circle.

While Kunttong left that day to head back to Bangkok, really, my adventure was only just beginning, but that my friend will have to be continued in the next blog installment.