Visit of my friends from the US

My friend, Justin Milano, blogged on his first visit to Bhutan. It is titled Breakthrough in Bhutan.

Justin was part of a larger group of friends - who have come together in the last few years - drawn by a common interest to discover a way of living - and most probably by some karmic consequences. We call ourselves the Contenment Family.

In Breakthrough in Bhutan, Justin shares a powerful experience that he had in Athang Rukha while in deep meditation at the temple. He visioned his past lives unfold - a life of pain, suffering and isolation and thankfully also came the liberation. It just amazes me that he did get that in Athang Rukha. I had one too but will leave for some other time and place to tell that story.

Then, of course, the fairy-tale wedding that he describes is what my friends, Nim Dorji and Pema Rinzin organised in Dodedra Monastery. Read Justin's blog since I cannot express better than he did there.

Photo journal of a travel to interior Bhutan

Nothing is more enriching, humbling and fulfilling than trekking into interior Bhutan to see, meet and know your own people. And bring to them a little help you can. There was a time when I said to myself that one day when I become rich I would help others. That day (me becoming rich) never came. So one day, some nine years back, I just started off doing things.

Rest as they say is now history. Nine years and countless journeys into this region I have realized that you are not really helping anyone. No one really needs the help that we imagine. All they need is someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on and someone whom they can say, he will always be there for us. You need some money, of course, but not more than an average person like us can't afford of what you would spend for a Saturday night out in Thimphu.

What you really need to bring is yourself. Many of us from the governmnent, NGOs, etc. come but we rarely bring ourselves. We bring our ego, official positions, pride and lots of prejudices.

No! Just bring yourself. Your pure heart (that we all have). You will find how wealthy, resourcesful and innovative you are.

Travelling to interiors of Bhutan takes both physical and mental efforts. I keep going as long as my coffee supply lasts

I have concentrated my social works in the last 9 years in Rukha village. Now I am using it as the base camp.

Phub Dorji completed high school and couldn't get to college. He returned to his village unlike most Bhutanese youth.

Eco-friendly machines. Oxen are still used for ploughing the fields.

This rooster always chooses my window to throw me out of my bed every morning. Lucky for them, I am veg

Learning about others ultimately makes you find yourself. I found myself and who truly I am - among the Oleps

Lawa in Athang Geog is my next destination.

The people there have nothing but they offer you everything they have. In urban areas it is vice versa.

The traditional gift to welcome a guest into a village. I love this tradition.

It is rare that your presence becomes the reason for the village to come together and celebrate. Simply humbling.

Ara time in Lamga Village

I feel more welcome here than anywhere on Earth

This woman lost her left eye to a simple cataract disease. I am trying to save the other eye.

Wise Man of the Village

Rukha Village, somewhere in Central Bhutan, 15 November 2015 – I am sitting on the deck of a house – seeping coffee and reading a book – and occasionally looking away towards the village – spread in front of me - as it slowly comes to life from the long Autumn night. From the horizon, the Sun is slowly climbing up from behind the Black Mountains throwing a sharp ray towards the valley. In the distance, farmer Sanga is harvesting his rice while another farmer, Bechu, is singing to his oxen as he ploughs the field for the next plantation. 

“Kuzu zangpola”, a voice comes from behind me. I turn around and see a face smiling at me. “Kuzu, Kuzu. You look familiar but what's your name?” I ask him. “I am Kado from Lamga,” he replies. “Oh, Lamga! Yeah! I am supposed to visit this afternoon. You have come up very early,” I tell him. “Daw Gyeltshen insisted that I reach here early,” he informs me. “I think he wants to make sure that I visit Lamga this time,” I tell him. We both laugh.

A hearty breakfast, with the American students I had brought along to Rukha, is followed by a visit to the Rukha temple where I am building a house for the monks. By mid-day we head for Lamga. Kado insists that he even carry my camera besides my bag.

The bridge built specifically for my visit

The path to Lamga is a vertical drop that I have to hold to shrubs and lemon grass plants every now and then lest I roll down to my destination. But I survive without a slip. Then at the foot of the mountain after an hour-long walk downhill where my knees were almost giving up we come across a reception party waiting for me in the forest. “There was no need for any mid-way snacks,” I tell Aap Naki and Gyeltshen whom I remember from my previous visits. “We were told to accompany you safely across the river,” they tell me – pointing to a temporary log bridge they made for me. "One man got washed away last year". The river is big and swift and enough to wash me away if I slipped into it. But I have done this before and I walk across without any help. 

Lamga is a new settlement at an hour walk from Rukha through the subtropical jungles filled with spiders, scorpions and snakes. The people here are of different ethnic group with distinct language of their own – Phojib. They shuttled between Phobjikha and Lamga until, in 2005, the government made them choose between the two places to settle them permanently. Strangely, they chose Lamga. “Why did you guys give up Phojikha,” I ask Kado. “It is warmer here and the land is more productive,” he replies. “But Phobjikha is more developed now,” I continue. “I don’t know. We followed our elders like Ap Mindu, who died last month,” he says with a little remorse. In fact Aap Mindu was the only sharp guy in Lamga. He passed away at 73 leaving the village without his wisdom and guidance. Because of inter-marriage within just four families, the people of Lamga are not the brightest. "We feel lost without him," Kado tells me sadly. I also feel their pain. I had known Ap Mindu too. He considered me his friend and mentor and often visited me in Thimphu. 

They offered me everything they had.

As we enter the village, I scan the place. The last time I visited was in 2008 with Sonam Pem, Pema and a Thai student. I was an active volunteer then for Tarayana Foundation that built them permanent houses, which has now become one of Foundations’s feathers in the cap. “You guys have done well,” I remark. “It is all thanks to you,” Kado replies. "Noooo! Not me. I was just a volunteer. You should thank Tarayana," I hit back. Kado continues, “The whole village has gathered in Daw Gyeltshen’s house. They are all very excited that you are visiting us.”

Yes, the village has not only gathered there but they have pitched a tent in the field, have prepared a grand feast and have lined-up to greet the guest of honour (me!). I wish each and everyone of them – by names of those who I remember. As is a tradition in Bhutan, the women welcome me with a heap of rice, eggs and incense stick in a basket containers – as gifts. I accept them and offer Nu. 100 each for every woman in return. Then I take my place inside the tent and ask them to join me. A small sacred marchang (wine ceremony) follows and then suja (butter tea) and dresi (rice with butter and saffron).

“Thank you all. I don’t know what I have done to deserve all these, but thank you,” I tell them. “Well, you have done so much for us and we were very sad that you stopped visiting us. We heard that you came to Rukha several times in the last few years but by the time we knew, you were already gone.” Daw Gyeltshen replies. Everyone nods with him. I feel a sense of guilt.

With my people - in my land

“Well, I know. The last time I was here was in 2008. But since Sonam and Passang were doing a great job I didn’t feel the need to visit the sites.” I reassure them. “Rukha was different. The Oleps didn’t want to work and someone also had to also supplement what Tarayana gave them to keep the project going. They were so poor. They couldn't even feed themselves. So I had to be with them through out. You guys were different. You were much better placed. Then in 2009 I was called to the service at the Palace from where actually I did help settle some land disputes you had with the government and the cases of people without land. So you see, I had not forgotten you at all.” “Yes, la. For what you did when you were at the Palace, the 25 families will never forget that. We even tell our children about how we got back our land,” Daw Gyeltshen goes on. The 25 families had lost their land to the State after they had left it fallow for over 20 years. I helped them to submit an appeal to the King who kindly granted the land back. "Don't thank me. You should thank our King," I remind them.

The Lamgaps now only have one dream. They don’t have a community hall or a temple. And with their wise man gone, they turn to me for help. I obilge. “Let’s do that! Together, we will build one. A small tshokhang (community hall). I will supply all the materials and you will put everything together,” I tell them. The village, I am told, hold their annual rituals under tarpaulin sheets. Lunch follows and dances and songs to celebrate my visit - and the project that we have agreed to do together.

As the Sun starts its descent towards the distant mountains I bid goodbye to the Lamgaps and make my way towards Rukha - promising to return to celebrate the Bhutanese New Year with them. I make the vertical climb uphill - looking back at the village from time to time, and some strange thoughts cross my mind. “Who am I? Why am I so happy, contented and satisfied when I am in this area? Why do I feel so close to these people?”.  Then I just conclude, philosophically, that maybe I was one of them in my previous life. In fact I feel so home out here. 

Now I am one of them. I feel that I am back to my people. This is my land. And with my friend, Ap Mindu, gone I am their leader. 

I feel like the new Wise Man of the village.

The village of Lamga - My new home

Middle-Path Journalism – A conceptual framework

In September of 2009 a devastating earthquake hit Eastern Bhutan. The whole country shook for almost a minute. Houses crumbled, lives were lost and even mountains gave away. I was then serving as the Media Director to His Majesty the King. News of untold destructions and deaths started pouring in every minute. I was on the phone getting information on a continuous basis. But after few days I was getting tired. Not for working 24 hours per day but with the deluge of only bad news. So I called up the Kuensel Correspondent in the area and asked if there was nothing good happening there. I was definite that there would be help and humanity going around in such times. There could be some good things happening there like people helping other people who had lost more. Two days later, a news article appeared in Kuensel about a health worker who saved a child from a house that was crumbling and had killed rest of the family. The health worker risked his life. The story of heroism and humanity lifted the whole nation. Coincidently, that’s one story that I remember from that tragic event. In the days after the earthquake, His Majesty the King visited the area. I ensured that what we released to the mass media were not again stories of agony and misery but stories of hope, strength and resilience – and stories of restoring laughter and joy and stories of reconstruction and reassurance.

Bhutan embraced fundamental political changes in 2008 with the adoption of a written Constitution - and with the general elections that brought in the first elected government. However, in the words of the patron of Bhutanese democracy, His Majesty the King, democratic governance is a means towards the country’s greater aspiration of gross national happiness (GNH). As Bhutanese society slowly internalizes the fundamental principles of participatory governance, it should be noted that no country has built a strong democracy without a vibrant mass media.

The Bhutanese media has its genesis in the modern development era that began with the launch of the First Five-Year Plan in 1961. As a tool to keep the people informed of government decisions, Kuensel, the national newspaper, was started in 1967. It began as an official gazette. Radio NYAB followed in 1973 as a youth radio and later became the Bhutan Broadcasting Service (BBS), the national broadcaster in 1986. Both Kuensel and BBS had the mandate to inform, educate and entertain the Bhutanese people alongside the country’s overall goal of modern socio-economic development. In other words, development journalism, a media model developed in Asia in the last 30 years, was practiced.

With Bhutan embarking on the road to western-styled democracy, there has been a proliferation of independent media with 12 privately owned newspapers and 4 commercial FM radio stations. In other words, the role of the media has now changed. The question, therefore, is what kind of media model has the new Bhutanese media adopted. Every major society developed a distinct media model based on its history and socio-political evolution.

At the outset, Bhutan’s thrust into democracy has come in an unconventional manner. It has come as another noble initiative of the institution of monarchy. Hence, it is obvious that the West-centric media models postulated under different political evolutions are not applicable in Bhutan. Besides, Bhutan although a small country, the historical, ethnic, social and cultural contexts are complex with a population of little over 700,000 speaking 18 different languages and coming from as many ethnic groups with distinct cultures, traditions and worldviews. Adding to this complexity is the fast changing mindset of a young population. 60% of the country is under the age of 24. These basic reality have to be factored into this academic inquiry. Above all, something as important and as defining as the mass media needs to take into account the fundamental Values the nation hold dear.

The western media model is rooted in western philosophy that shaped the values over the millennia. Thus the traditional Four Theories of Press and the Fourth Estate model promote individual values and rights such as freedom, liberty, equality and justice. Whereas the Bhutanese society, like much of Asia, celebrates community and collectivism (maang in Dzongkha). In addition to that are values like compassion (nyinzhey) and commitments (tha-damtsi) that have contributed to maintaining everything that is good about Bhutan. The fourth and the last Value is contentment (chhokshay), which happens to be the core concept of Gross National Happiness. The new form of journalism rooted in these profound, indigenous and local Values is what I would like to call the Middle-Path Journalism.

This new thinking also comes at a time when the traditional forms of mass media are collapsing all over the world as a result of the social media. The Fourth Estate Model and Four Theories of the Press are being challenged by this new form of citizen's journalism. 

Bhutan with its profound Buddhist tradition and an extraordinary development philosophy of GNH can and should develop its own media model. The Middle-Path Journalism Model, which I propose, could also provide an ethical framework to advocate for contentment, community, compassion and commitments as core values of Bhutanese and Asian journalism in place of West and Euro-centric mass communication models that thrive on, and at times further inflame, conflicts, controversies and commercialism.

(From my talk at the Second Bloggers Conference, Paro College of Education, 25 October 2015)

The Oleps - the last hunter-gatherers of Bhutan

The newly constructed farm road from Taksha Zam to Rukha is carved out of sheer vertical cliffs that it would take a lot of courage, almost blind faith, to hop into the power tiller that had come to pick me. I decided to walk – not because I was scared but because I love walking. I have always walked this route; the first time in 2007 when I was assigned by Tarayana Foundation to document this unique group of people – the Oleps.

So I dropped my bags in the tractor and told them to go ahead while I made my way to Rukha on foot. Two locals remained with me to give me company. Even being able to walk free of my backpack was in itself a huge relief. For many years, following my first visit, we had to walk for two days under the scorching Sun or a torrential rain carrying everything on our backs. There was only one rudimentary footpath that ran along the river and through the leech and snake infested jungles crossing even a dangerous landslide area. The trek was so difficult that every time we made it we felt a great sense of achievement. In time a farm road was built and someone bought a power tiller – not only relieving us from the heavy loads but also shortening the two-day arduous trek into a day-long walk.

After five hours of hitting the dusty track, through some beautiful sub-tropical forests and vegetation, we reached Samthang – the first settlement lying along the banks of Harachu River. There we were invited into the house of an old friend, Tashi. His wife had, as usual, cooked some rice and nga-dho tshoem (smoked fish), a local delicacy. I made my hosts happy by gulping down a mound of rice and several rounds of the fish curry.

Another five hours of journey on foot and with the final few kilometers taking us uphill we reached Rukha.

Place, people and culture

Rukha stands on a plateau with the houses lined-up along a raised perimeter of a large farmland. The Oleps have settled here in 1982 when this land was granted to them by the King. They were originally hunter-gatherers, the last ones in Bhutan, perhaps. And together with the cousins, the Mongpas, they are considered as the first inhabitants of Bhutan. Since time unknown they lived off the forest practicing hunting, fishing and shifting cultivation. In the early 1980s as their hunting ground became part of a national park the Oleps appealed to the King and received a permanent place to settle in Rukha. However, while they got the land they didn’t know how to farm and slowly their number dwindled because of poverty and malnutrition. They worked as day laborers for the more affluent villages of Athang – getting paid in food grains with which they fed their families.

In 1997, Her Majesty Queen Dorji Wangmo Wangchuck who was trekking in the area stumbled upon them. Story has it that she was deeply saddened by their conditions. They were living in makeshift bamboo huts and in total misery. Years later, when Her Majesty founded Tarayana, Rukha was selected as the first project site. In 2007, just before the project got implemented I was hired to photograph and do some documentaries on their origins, language and the way of life. I immediately became attached to them making me volunteer for Tarayana and visiting them regularly even after the project closed. Tarayana helped them build permanent homes, send their children to school, start fishery and bought them seeds and farming tools. In time, they bounced back to life and they also embraced me as one of them.

The Oleps are part of a larger group, the Mongpas of Central Bhutan. But the origins of the name, Oley, and the history have been lost in time. They are often grouped with the Monpa - a term to loosely describe the non-Indian non-Tibetan groups that inhabited the southern regions of Tibet. However, the Oleps with their language, culture and traditions and the dependence on forest for livelihood would link them closer to the Nagas, Kukis and Mismis of North Eastern Himalayas. They are today confined to Rukha; numbering just 121 souls. And with their unique language (Olekha), culture and traditions they are the smallest ethnic group of Bhutan.

What is even more fascinating of their origins is their own version, which, of course, is bit sketchy. Their cousins, the Mongpas, have retained the legend that the Oleps and the Mongpas are direct descendents of one of the nine brothers of the Sun. The brother in time married a visiting fairy from heaven after he captured her - one fine day. To make sure that she didn’t fly away he clipped her wings and hid them in the bushes. They bore a son and a daughter. The mother, one day, discovered her wings and flew back to heaven – never to come back. Seeing the children deeply saddened, the father decided to go to heaven - promising to get her back but also cautioning that he may not succeed either and may be killed in the mission. “If you hear me shout aatsa (painful cry), it means that I have lost the battle,” he told the children. Few weeks later a cry of aatsa was heard and subsequently the injured father dropped down from the sky. He died of injuries few days later. The son and the daughter obviously angered by the death of their father traveled to heaven to demand compensations from the Gods. They were given a hunting dog and a rotary mill. This, the legend says, is the reason why the Oleps and the Mongpas have been practicing hunting and shifting cultivation.

The legend of Pelden Lhamo

Crowning the village of Rukha is a hill where once a temple stood. The temple was dedicated to Pelden Lhamo – the guardian deity of Bhutan. Legend has it that Pelden Lhamo (Mahakali) came a subdued a demon that was terrorizing the village. To ensure that the demon didn’t resurrect again she planted herself on top of the hill. A temple was built there but was later destroyed somewhere between 1933 and 1936. The period is deduced from the age of one of the oldest men living, Ap Tekpa, who is almost 90. Tekpa recounts that when he was a boy a deadly disease (probably referring to the smallpox epidemic that hit Bhutan between 1931 and 1933) had wiped out the entire village. The Oleps were living in the mountains overlooking Rukha back then. “For years after the village got empty no one dared to visit the place,” he adds. “Then few years later the temple was razed to the ground.”

In 2009 as the project was nearing completion the Oleps asked me to help rebuild the temple. I initially declined as I was more focused on alleviating them from misery rather than guiding them towards their spiritual path. But on a second thought I realized that a community temple was more than a religious monument. It brings and binds the community together. It gives them hope when they are in despair and happiness and laughter in times of annual religious celebrations. So I agreed to help and together (I would say more they than me) we rebuilt the temple from the scratch.

In December 2013 we consecrated the temple and on the same occasion the entire village took a vow to stop killing animals altogether and subscribe to the Buddhism. They were mostly animist until then. While it might be a triumph for environmentalists and serious Buddhist practitioners, I had an uneasy feeling that we might have just changed their lives, history and traditions forever. Not that I encouraged them to hunt, which was outlawed way back in the 1970s. But all along as the project got implemented my colleagues from Tarayana and I battled with changes that we were bringing to this community.

On my return journey, my friend, Kinza, insisted that I rode in his power tiller. “I want to have the honour of giving you a ride. You have done so much for me - and it is much faster.” I obliged. Two others got in insisting on coming to see me off.

As Kinza skillfully negotiated the narrow track of the farm road carved out of the vertical cliffs, my eyes scanned the world that was slowly moving away from us. My first visit and the poverty I saw back then seem as far as the distant mountains now. May be change was good - and inevitable if this community was to survive. And as long as these people maintained its unique identity, pride and sense of humanity and gratitude, which they do, they can boldly move towards a brighter future.

When we reached our destination – the highway point where I had left my car, I hugged my friends and we wished each other that “we would meet again".

In Bhutan there is no such thing as goodbye. 

(This article was written for Tashi Delek magazine, Jan 2014)

The Contentment Valley

I had another wonderful day-trip trip to Athang Rukha – my adopted village. Actually it is my village now. They are me and I am them. And a place that I would happily retire for the rest of my life. Thanks to the farm roads now it is so easily accessible.

As always there is always a new story to tell from the visit there. This time I came across a little girl who has a lump in her upper belly. The child was brought to Thimphu a year back but astrologers told the parents not to take her to the hospital. So the family returned to the village without seeing a doctor. She has this lump ever since. I have asked the parents to bring her to Thimphu again and left some money for the travel. I plan to take her to Dr. Sonam Dukpa and run all the tests that may be necessary. I have assured the parents that I will bear all the medical expenses. I am ​just praying that it is not something life-threatening. She is a beautiful little girl - full of life, energy and brain. 

My plan to turn the whole valley into fully organic is gaining steam. The people there are excited. The valley is comprised of five villages of Samthang, Rukha, Lawa, Lamga and Thaphu. We have planted the first mango tree. Other fruits like avocado (my favorite), passion fruits, kiwi and other tropical fruit trees will follow. We will need to do at a decent scale. We will promote the valley as organic and we will promote agro-tourism. If there is one place we can make it happen it is there. If there one person who can make it happen, it's me!

My filmmaker friend from Thimphu, Pema Rinzin, who came along this time asked me what can people expect being there. "Nothing!" I said. "Nothing?" he replied. "Yes, really, it will be nothing. It will be for people who have everything and are going crazy with it. It will be a place to unwind and find your true self. Just as I found myself by coming here for the first time in 2007".

He was thoroughly confused. And so was I. 

The village is a bowl-shaped settlement granted to the Oleps by the King in 1982 (They were hunters-gatherers untill then)

The energy of the place is incredible. I always find it hard to leave after being there even for a weekend. 

These lands belong to Gangtey Monastery, which the locals share-crop since time unknown.

The hamlet of Samthang has 5 houses and beautiful flat paddy fields. Samthang, Mitana, Lawa, Lamga and Rukha make the valley