Monday 31 December 2012

Beyond Bhutan - Reflections Mostly Mental

I am writing this from a beach-side restaurant in Koh Tao, a red snapper on its way, a Beer Chang on the table. It's hot here. My BCF friends have all left me for their various homes over the last few weeks – Salt Spring, Toronto, Nebraska, a few to India, a couple up to Chiang Mai, a few to Africa via New York. The group has scattered and they're all taking a piece of Bhutan with them to their relevant places. Some of them are going back there, me possibly included. So perhaps it's time to figure out what this lingering sense of Bhutan looks like, how it feels, what it means to us. But to be honest, it's still only half formed.



What was the leaving like? Difficult and emotional, but good. Why good? Because the last few weeks brought home how much I enjoyed my time there, how close my friendships became and how much I achieved there in such a short time. As the departure date drew new and conversations became dominated by the impending break, I found plenty of time to reflect on the differences between my previous life and the one I found in Pakshikha – Bhutan, a country seemingly in the full flush of its teenage years of development, and the UK (and I guess, Europe) that has seemingly gone beyond the peak on the cost-benefit development curve and now counts more costs than it does benefits from its race for growth at any cost. I can't shed this sense of the UK that was growing before I left, that it is struggling through the cynical years of an not-quite-old-yet man, intractable, stuck in self-destructive ways, disappointed with the achievements its ambitions wrought.

Sanjay Pradhan
I saw a lecture recently by Sanjay Pradhan, Vice President of the World Bank Institute in which he drew great hope from (among other things) the fact that a seachange was occurring in the development/aid communities. The post-war institutions – the UN, the World Bank, the EMF – they were all laudably conceived in a spirit of hope that a better world could be fashioned from the spiritual, financial and ethical debris of one of the most humanity shattering of wars. The aim was simple – to not let history repeat as it so often does. They realised that wealth disparities play an important role in the harmony of nations and they sought to address them. The whole infrastructure of this change was predicated not only on the wealth of the Northern Hemisphere, but also on its expertise and economic history. When we see Europe fragmenting and read newspaper reports about 'nutrition poverty' in Yorkshire, and when we hear the politicians steadfastly clinging to their growth rhetoric as an escape from the madness the same ethos created, it's hardly surprising that eyebrows raise in alarm.

Sow what is the seachange that Mr Pradhan referred to? It comes from a change in perspective of the Southern Nations. They're no longer looking to the West and North for salvation from poverty and corruption, but to each other. They don't care how London made itself so massive and tied itself up in dodgy derivatives. They're more interested in how China miraculously lifted so many people out of poverty (despite the terrible costs), how Costa Rica disbanded its army and channelled all the cash into sustainable small business ventures, how Mexico lifted it's citizens higher up the index of happiness with its version of the new deal, how Bhutan defines the role of its government in relation to the welfare of its people and environment.

I'm not 'down' on the UK. I take heart from my friends in Bristol, almost all of whom are involved in one way or another in building something better from the ground up, not in response to Cameron's 'Big Society' speeches, but with a hearty and cynical two fingers up to them. I'm thinking of the Bristol Pound, the non-profit micro energy projects, the redevelopment of derelict buildings as community spaces for creativity and small businesses, the festivals run carbon neutral and designed not just for hedonism but for education, the attempt to found new schools that might just work for the children. Inspirational people – citizens (one would hope) of a New Britain, people who appreciate the redundancy of the archaic 'Great' prefix of Britain and are prepared to do something about it. The government seems too clunky and rusting at the seams to contribute in any meaningful way. Perhaps Cameron realises this. I doubt it.

So to whom does Bhutan look for inspiration? Many of the people look to China with distrust and India with a hesitancy that is entirely understandable given the harsh conditions that people live under there. One only needs to cross the border for five minutes to see what a apparently complete absence of welfare does for grass roots humanity and 'the social contract'. Spend a few weeks there like one of my friends recently did, and you have to adopt a shell hard enough to ignore destitution well beyond anything we might term 'nutritional poverty'. Bhutan is definitely doing something right compared with its nearest neighbours.

I noticed the new science curricula have been written with assistance from Oxford dons, which is disappointing. I had a precious opportunity to provide feedback to the Minister of Education with the other teachers and shared my view that there exists here a chance to do something radically different with the textbooks that are being written for Class IX and X, to make them work for teachers and students alike. Forget what we've done over there in the West – make a textbook that works! With AfL and differentiation and '21st century education' techniques embedded and integrated. Let them guide the teachers instead of telling us what to do at workshops that inspire us with an energy that trickles away in weeks. Many other things were discussed and it was refreshing, regardless of what was said, to find people in government listening to classroom teachers, albeit aliens from another world.

A common grumble that arose from conversations with my Bhutanese friends was that the government was too intoxicated with the aura of GNH and the spreading of it around the world and might perhaps do well to flex its muscles more at home and make the ideal of GNH a tangible reality for every one of its citizens. I think this is both fair and harsh. Bhutan needs to keep speaking as loud as it can so that the GNH ideal stays current and noticeable – the value of this small exemplar voice at the big conference tables of the world is self-evident. However, if the Bhutanese become cynical, it will become a house of cards and crumble from within once the next generation of Bhutanese find their democratic voices and make use of the internet to express them.

This is all very heady and mental stuff. I haven't touched upon the emotion jolt of leaving behind a place and people that have become very close to my heart. I half expect to become one of those Bhutanical volunteer comets that circle the country and periodically fly through its skies during my lifetime. There are many of them, and with good reason. I'm hoping to go back in March to see my friends and have some more conversations about possible work there, but who knows what will happen? Koh Tao is distracting my mind, various adventurers are on the horizon and my priority for the next few months is with my writing. I guess I'll have to wait a little longer for the more emotional reactions to settle in. Grist for another posting, which will, I imagine be full of pictures of farewells and friends.

Sanjay Pradhan's Lecture... http://www.ted.com/talks/sanjay_pradhan_how_open_data_is_changing_international_aid.html

Sunday 30 December 2012

Snorkeling in Koh Tao - Chasing Sharks

I know I haven't written anything for a long time, and there's much to be said about departing Bhutan, but in the meantime, here's a video that includes me chasing a shark!!!


Monday 24 December 2012

Tuesday 4 December 2012

Pa-pa-pa-pah-pe-PAKSHIKHA!!!!!!

The Song

Ok. Brace yourself. This is the school anthem for Pakshikha MSS. Borne out of a twanging fit of silliness on a Friday afternoon when the verse just went pooooomph, fell from the ether and landed on the guitar. Collaboration brought the rest out. It's a shame I didn't get a chance to record all the kids singing on the chorus. So here it is... played by yours truly for the school. And most of the village too :-)






The Lyrics

There's a place high up on a hill
Everybody's happy there and minds are being filled with potential
and new ideas
and a feeling that will carry through the years

Pakshikha MSS

There's a place everybody knows
Every time you visit there this feeling grows and grows
one of warmth and blooming
the 'perfect model's there for successful schooling' *

Pakshikha MSS

Everybody goes there just thinking they'll be schooled
but four years later on if they've done the best they can
they'll find to their surprise they've more than just moved on

Pakshikha MSS


* this is the school's 'official' abbreviation - pmss - perfect model for successful schooling

Monday 3 December 2012

Calling All Swedes...

This Swedish thing is getting serious! Here's the latest blog view data, and Swedes, it would appear are out-viewing my warblings by a somewhat phenomenal margin; almost 3 times more Swedish people are perusing than Blighty-folk. This is neither good nor bad, but it's certainly curious. If there's any Swedish people out there who feel inclined to do so, please send me a message and say Hi! I'd like to know who you are....

Sweden               124
United Kingdom     42
Germany               22
United States        22
France                 16
Bhutan                 12
Israel                   11
Canada                  8
Greece                  6
Netherlands           6


Saturday 1 December 2012

The Best Place for a Home to be ?






















I just had to post this picture, even if I haven't got much to say about it! It's my house. I often can't quite believe it, but there it is, perched up on the mountainside between rice paddies, overlooking the valley that just goes down and down and down and...This picture is taken from about two thirds of the way to school, on the way back in the afternoon. In the evenings the sun drives down the valley in  innumerable streaks through the mist, leaving wispy contrails of light that set the air to incandescence. The skies are now clear. You can see individual trees several mountains away. Going to and from school is one of my favourite things, either by day or by night. 

Something has happened here recently, something unexpected and stunning. It's gone quiet. A few nights ago, after an epic contest of Yahtzee down in the village(finally got them playing games!), I set off for home on the wrong side of midnight. Folk don't go out walking alone at the witching hour in these parts - superstitious, and I can see why. There I was trundling along the forest-side path listening to the crunch of gravel beneath my feet, the path silvered by the bluish light of a nearly-full moon, thoughts nee-nawing around my head when I found myself irked by a noise that seemed to be disturbing not just me but the whole forest. For a few moments I couldn't pin it down, but then it dawned on me... It was my down jacket! The arms were swishing against the torso. How could this noise be so LOUD! And then I realised as I stopped there beneath the trees.... the world had slipped and fallen into silence, and not just up to its knees, but right up to its head and beyond. 

S-i-l-e-n-c-e. 

It seems the forest has gone to sleep. Insects have given up their constant mwaa-de-mwaa and taken up some other means to pass the time. Birds are, I dunno, sleeping? On holiday? Even the dogs are reacting to the silence in kind. I can honestly say I have never stood in such complete and MASSIVE silence before. The forest loomed up on one side of me, giants leaning over hordes of bushes and shrubs, and behind me, the valley fell away and the mountains reared up beyond. So much life, so much stuff, and not a single chirp or twittle or trickle or pop. Eery. And remarkable. And peaceful beyond thought. How do they survive on the other side of the border where it is never quiet, ever? 

So I've taken to walking at night recently. The landscape's adopted stillness reminds me of a deserted stage where the theatre's drama still lingers in the air. It's a still photograph in 3D, a movie set, a museum almost. Nothing moves. Nothing breathes. My eyes can soak it all up raster style and record it deep and detailed for when I am gone from this place.