Ohana in the Himalaya
As featured @ Khwopa College Journal
It was early, but not too early. Early enough that silence still levitated upon ebony air, yet the swirling thermals of dawn slowly thawed the crystalized drops of dew. A few clouds lingered overhead; they stood as a forewarning for the monsoon season’s commencement. Though, at such an altitude, where yaks roamed instead of buffalo, snow would stream from the sky instead of rain.
We all gathered outside the guesthouse dressed in layers and clad in gear— about twenty of us. The students and professors of Environmental Science at Khwopa College in Bhaktapur had come to conduct field studies in Langtang Valley. We, as travelers, had come to hike the Himalaya. As different as we all were, our mutual interest in nature’s splendor brought us together.
We had met the group on the previous day as we all took shelter under a common roof while a torrential downpour flooded the path outside. Narayan Koju, a professor of Biology at Khwopa College that specializes in research of the endangered Pika, was the first to greet us with a smile. Despite the dismal weather, he was upbeat and happy to introduce himself and his students. As he spoke his eyes sparkled with the answers to all the questions Lauren and I had pondered regarding Nepal’s environment. After a month of exploration from the terrai to the foothills to the mountains we craved reason behind the rhyme of these rare ecosystems. On that rainy afternoon we received answers, passionate insight, and an exciting invitation to join the group on the following day’s excursion to track the infamous Red Himalayan Panda.
The sun ascended over the sharp snow peaks. I looked around at the group as the last few students stumbled out of their rooms, still slightly intoxicated with sleep. The promise of the day was captured in the elusive high altitude air. Walking sticks, water bottles, cameras, notepads and pencils. Wool hats and mittens. Hiking boots and binoculars. Twenty human beings gathered at the foot of a mountain, ready to climb. Kamala Kant Acharya, the professor of Geology, led the way. His introduction of glacial formations and tectonic activity was quickly transformed from theory to reality as we investigated the very world around us. The Langtang Valley was our classroom and anything you set your eyes on was the material. “Rocks” became “22 million-year-old igneous intrusions”; the “river bed” below became “glacial runoff”. Every so often Narayan would halt his speedy stride to point out traces of the infamous snow leopard. Then our attention would be brought to a low-bush variety of Rhododendron by the professor of Botany, Sanuraja Maharjan. The three professors were all exuberantly enthusiastic about their respective fields, their eyes wide with wisdom and wonder. So contagious was their enthusiasm that I soon found myself absorbed in the excitement as well.
I can’t help but describe the scene as grand. With snow-capped mountain peaks and two cascading glaciers in the background, I stood in a field scattered with smiling faces and playful exploration. There were some students gathered around an intriguing rock formation, some investigating animal tracks up a snowy mountainside, some engaged in a lighthearted snowball fight with one of the professors. As I sat and absorbed the grandeur of what lay all around me, I became aware of the exchanges between all of us. Students were teaching teachers. Teachers were exploring and experimenting like students. While there was an obvious level of respect paid to the professors- years of undoubted hard work and study under their belts- it was as if out there in the field everyone carried the same educational intent. Everyone was there to learn and if there was an opportunity to teach it was granted to whomever stood ready and willing.
In the days that followed Lauren and I found ourselves stride-for-stride with the group from Khwopa College. We helped conduct survey studies on the Red Panda. We shared mid-day snacks, evening daal bhaat and nightly card games. We taught each other about our own cultures: the differences and similarities between America and Nepal. Before long we felt as if we were as much a part of the group as the students that had already spent several years together. They accepted us and we embraced their welcome, cherishing each moment of exchange. In America such an interaction is normally only found between blood relatives. In Nepal that perception of familial respect permeates life just as the warmth of daylight softens the frost of night.
My experience with the Environmental Science professors and students was not only educational, but also enlightening. It was a look into the solid educational system of Bhaktapur College, into the morally uplifting exchange of ideas and support between student and teacher. The continuous display of respect for both the environment and its inhabitants serves as testimony for the astute contributions I believe these students will make- and professors will continue to make- in the local and global scientific communities.
