Finding Hope in Simple Things

by Margie Nea

Opportunities to photograph in Africa, South America, and Asia have broadened my vision in every sense of the word. High on a hillside, in a remote area outside Kathmandu, I discover amazing vitality and hope. My group and I have been walking for hours up a steep foot path in the hot sun. Near the summit, we hear cries of "Namaste, Namaste!' (the Sanskrit word for greeting and parting). Barefooted children, bowing their heads and folding their hands together, are running to greet us along the path. "I salute you, I greet you, I honor the god within you." Prayer flags fly from nearby huts, sending blessings out into every direction.

Women rush out of their homes to welcome us. The men have already gathered to greet us, and we are grateful for the straw mats they have put out for us to sit on. We feel warmly received by the generosity and hospitality of the villagers.

We talk together, listen to one another, communicate across barriers of language, culture, history, geography. We open our minds and hearts to one another. Questions arise: How are your crops? How are the new methods for growth working? Gopal, our Nepali interpreter, touches on another more sensitive issue: How many children do you have? Are you interested in having small families? All the men laugh, but yes, they say, they are. We ask about the women's project: Are your goats increasing in number? Are you getting a good price for them in the market?

I am with World Neighbors, a people to people organization that works in remote communities around the world to help in training villagers to create changes they seek. Through various programs, as people work together, ways of finding hope emerge: in women's development, in family planning, in agricultural practices. Tom Arens, the American leader, and the other Nepali leaders have a dedication and infectious spirit that continuously affirms the dignity of all the people with whom they work.

Madan, our trekking guide, sits next to me on the mat. I tell him how impressed I am by the community spirit evidenced everywhere I look. He tells me of his community of friends. "Every night, we sit together, about fifteen to twenty people, and talk about our day, what we have done, our work and what we are going to do the next day. We laugh together, listen to one another." When I say this is not the way we spend our evenings in my country and how deeply people yearn for community spirit such as this, he is perplexed. "You do not do as we do? How do you face the next day? I cannot imagine not talking to my friends each evening and knowing about their lives, their concerns and supporting each other in what we do."

Later on, when we must leave, villagers walk along part way on the foot path with us. "Namaste, namaste," we call out to one another. We round a corner by the crest of a hill and look at the vista beyond, the snow capped Himalayan mountains in the background, the river bed below, the rice fields. We can hear in the distance women's voices laughing and talking. I look down and see a line of women, with a natural sense of community spirit working together cutting rice in the field. I am transfixed, feeling I am in another era, in another world, perhaps hundreds or even thousands of years ago.

I came to Nepal with an open heart, with undefined expectations, not knowing what I would learn but knowing I would come away a different, deeper person than before. Yet I was

completely unprepared for the level of hope, the exuberance for life, the sense of connectedness to one another that I found in the people. Their dignity, the simplicity of their everyday lives, their working together for common goals is impressive. "If you have inner peace, the external problems do not affect your deep sense of tranquility. You are happy regardless of circumstances," the Dalai Lama says. Their peace despite great hardship, their finding hope in community enriches me. My travels have become a journey for me, both inward and outward, a journey of the heart.