Our small and rather old car pulled in front of the orphanage. The narrow street leading up to it were muddy after the Monsoon rain. A green and luscious mountain was standing right before us. The sky was clear and bright blue now. The smell of rain was still lingering in the air.
I looked at the orphanage, which resembled a regular one family house. No one would have guesses that it was a home for orphaned children unless one was local and knew about it. The neighbourhood itself had a friendly and cozy feel to it. There were one family and terrace houses; you could see dogs and cats lying down on the green grass surrounding the houses and birds and butterflies sitting on the bushes planted next to the street and in between houses.
The front door of the orphanage swung open. Fifteen girls and boys aged between 3 and 18 ran out. They were all wearing bright colour clothes, laughing and talking loudly. They stopped by our car and started waving at us. ‘Come, come!’ They started canting in unison. I looked at my colleague Diego and he smiled. ‘This is going to be great!’
The manager of the orphanage, Asim, walked to us. ‘Welcome! We are very happy to have people come and help us.’ He Led us in. ‘I will show you the orphanage. This is the kitchen... This is Maya. She works here as a care taker. She cooks, cleans, helps the children and looks after them. She sleeps at the orphanage with them.’ Maya was looking at us but didn’t say a word. ‘She doesn’t speak English’, Asim explained. ‘If you want to ask her anything, ask her son Saroj to translate. He goes to a private school and his English is very good. He is the tall one with the orange t-shirt’. Asim pointed towards the children. ‘This is the living room... This is where they do their homework and this is where you can teach them. Opposite, you have the boys’ room and the girls’ room. There is the bathroom and they shower at the back, in the small garden.’
We walked through the small house that house 18 children. The kitchen was the biggest room of them all. I could see how the children could possibly do their homework in the living room, but the bedrooms were small. Trying to imagine 9 children sleeping in each room was hard.
Diego must have been thinking along the same lines as me. ‘There are not enough beds for all the children....’
‘Oh, they share. You have two children sleeping on each bed.’ Asim guided us back to the kitchen. ‘Would you like some tea?’
Maya brought us cups of tea. Aim sat down opposite us. ‘So in the afternoon when the children come back from school, you can teach them and do different activities with them.They ned help with maths and English, in particular. ’
We chatted about the children’s backgrounds. They were all here till they were 18. Then they would return to the land that their parents had owned and left behind. They all felt that the orphanage was their home till then and that the other children there were their family. Their relatives sometimes gave them clothes or came to visit, but none of them could have the children live with them due to financial reasons.
‘In the morning, at lunch time and in the evening, Maya makes dalvat. You know that that is the main stable food in a Nepali household? Rice with lentils and perhaps a little bit of vegetable. You can come down and she will give it to you. Now let me show you your room upstairs.’
Aim guided us upstairs to a flat that had two bedrooms and a bathroom. ‘This is you place. You stay here comfortably.’
As I unpacked my suitcase and gazed out of the window that faced a corn field and a small temple, my mind was occupied thinking about the different realities that children have and how different everyone’s life story in the end of the day is.
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There are a number of orphanages in Nepal. here is a link for one that has been providing a loving home for children for some years now:
http://www.cwhnepal.org/
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