"All of our meals are enjoyed in the mess hall with the 40-odd boarders and the half-dozen teachers who also live at the school. It is quite a basic hall, a little like the one in M.A.S.H. As teachers, we just take a seat and are waited on while the students line up for their food. Although it is dal bhat every lunch and dinner, there is just enough variation in the curry and accompanying acchar (chutney-type side dish) to make meal-time something to look forward to.
At one such dinner, we are chatting with Laxmi, the hostel-in-charge. His job is to make sure the boys' hostel runs smoothly, the boys behave themselves and go to bed when they are supposed to. It's probably not the most brain-taxing job but it has long hours, from the time the boys wake up (around 6am) until lights out (around 10pm). Like most Nepalis, Laxmi has a great big smile and is always up for a chat.
So we're talking and Jane notices a scar on Laxmi's little finger. "What happened to your finger?" she asks innocently.
"It's a scar", he tells us, in this quaint Nepali fashion of stating the obvious, so we nod as if he is explaining some complicated concept.
"Right. I see. So, how did you get the scar?"
"Oh, I was kidnapped as a child", he says, matter-of-factly, as if he was just saying he cut it while slicing bread.
"Kidnapped?"
"Yes. I was kidnapped by terrorists. They made me carry heavy loads for many miles in the jungle in northeast India. One time when I couldn't walk any more, I stopped to sit down. The terrorists were angry and they sliced my finger. I was very lucky. Many people who get kidnapped are killed. Every year, fifty people die this way. I was kidnapped three times and each time I was returned. My aunt was killed by terrorists, very brutally."
We hadn't expected such a dramatic answer to such a simple question and we don't know if we should pry any more. Laxmi seems comfortable enough though, so I ask who the terrorists were.
"There are many terrorist groups in northeast India, maybe 50. They want their own country. They kidnap people to work for them and for ransom. Many times they take the ransom and then kill the person anyway." He looks at us with a big smile and repeats, "I was very lucky".
I guess it puts things in perspective. Working 16 hour days and rarely leaving the school grounds doesn't seem so bad when compared with lugging stuff around the jungle for violent separatists who might slice you up on a whim.
As I mentioned, the days go by quite quickly and, almost before we know it, our two months are up and it is time to go. A week before we go, the Principal invites us out for dinner to one of the nicer restaurants in the area. As we are getting used to, the food is piled up, course after course and we are stuffed by about half way through. During a pause in the conversation, the Principal looks us in the eye and tells us how much he has appreciated everything we've done. He then asks us to stay in Nepal and join him in running the school, as equal partners. It's flattering but not really something we can seriously consider, so we politely turn him down. His shoulders sink a little and the conversation is a little awkward thereafter."
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