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Mama Joyce in ‘heaven’
of Swarga
By Wim van de Broek, Saturday June the
6th 2007.
Translated by Luc Stijns and Beatrijs Voorneman
Exuberant the doors of housing Swarga swing open. There
behind the doors, ten pare of dark naughty eyes are watching
me full of hope. It’s Saturday in warm Bhaktapur, Nepal. For
the schoolchildren this is the only free day in the week,
and for the children in Swarga it’s swimming time. Wim-Swim,
shouts the seven year old Roshani after hearing my name. The
four year old Asmati, hangs on my white legs, hoping I will
pick her up. A smart move.
My first acquaintance with Nepal, with Bhaktapur, doesn’t come
with bitter poverty. By bus, we travel to a nice swimming pool
outside this medieval city, thirteen kilometres from Katmandu.
What about these children having it so worse?
Welcome in Nepal, welcome in Swarga. The land of Krishna and
Joyce. Joyce, a thirty-five year old no-nonsense girl from Etten-Leur
(the Netherlands). Not looking for higher ideals, except a happier
existence for disabled children in a land where they otherwise
have no future.
Four years before, Joyce travelled to Bodhnath, Nepal, to teach
English lessons to Nepalese children. It couldn’t have stayed
with this sabbatical. “I have always have wanted to do something
abroad. My relationship was over, and I wasn’t happy with my
job, reasons enough to turn my back to Holland. Nepal meant
a new beginning, a new world.
The children and youth psychologist leaves work and hockey for
what it is and returns to Nepal in 2003. To conquer the language
barrier, she learned Nepali at the Nepal Development Academy
in Utrecht. They bring her in contact with a project for children
with the muscle decease of Duchenne in Bhaktabur. It is there,
in front of the steps of the Nyatapolatemple where she meets
here current and Nepalese business partner Krishna Sundar Khaitu
(29 years old). There is a direct click between these people.
The connections between the Dutch and Nepalese foundations which
lead up the project go a little bit rough. “It has been a good
internship giving welfare to disabled children. At a certain
moment we’ve said: we can do this by ourselves.” This has been
the beginning of their own foundation and building of children’s
home Swarga. Swarga means heaven, Krishna calls it a place which
exceeds a children’s dream.This is a place where children forget
they are disabled, they play witch each other and go to school
instead.
The school is three hundred meters along the road, reachable
by a sand road. The communicative English school is a non-subsidised
private school with enthusiastic teachers who work at a low
salary. In contrary to most schools physical and mental disabled
will be allowed. We tell them: “they are differently able” says
school director Jamie Kumar Rai. It’s hard to convince parents
of “normal” children that this integration is good for the children.
They think that the level will go down. But we are still winning
more of the parents’ hearts. Also because the children of Swarga
are very smart. Math and English are their best subjects.
You can see the joy on their faces when we drive in a fully
packed bus through the streets of Bhaktabur to the swimming
pool. A boy who hangs out of the door, who collects the travelling
money, pulls the children into the bus. The seven year old Binita
doesn’t make a sound. She has just had a foot operation. She
hasn’t got any toes. As a baby she burned them off, while crawling
through an open oven, when her mother was in the garden. Burns
often appear in Nepal. On roofs of houses or in dark rooms:
diner is prepared on charcoal fires everywhere. Binita isn’t
allowed to swim today. Seven other Swarga children are being
helped into their bathing suits by Joyce and two didi’s.
On January the first 2006 Joyce and Krishna had their house
ready for the first children. Almost eighteen months later Krishna
picks up the eleventh child in the west of Nepal. Travelling
one hundred kilometres takes a day. Closer to the Himalaya it
takes a week. Bhakatbur lays in the Kathandu valley on seventeen
hundred meters high. Smog blocks the view. Especially on the
busy road to the capital. By spitting, a national sport, Nepalese
people hope to clean their lungs.
Krishna travels by plane and picks up Norish at his family.
With his twelve years he is the oldest of the group. In contrary
to the other healthy faces, his face is covered with burning
wounds. He also misses one of his arms. Joyce likes him immediately.
She would like to pick up every disabled child in Nepal. Norish
has never seen a school from the inside. In his village Norish
isn’t accepted. Family members don’t even look at him. Medically
he was never looked after.
The little children love to splash around in the water. They
can’t swim or stand, but it is a good exercise for their muscles.
I pick heart beaker Chandra and throw her down in the water
with a splash. Her toes has been malformed, outside of the pool
she wears a wooden prosthesis. All the swimming made the little
girl very tired. She falls a sleep over her dinner later that
afternoon. The children are playing inside the house and in
the garden. Frequently Nepalese as well as Dutch physiotherapists
are present to do some moving exercises. Joyce is the binding
factor. She arranges appointments with specialists in hospitals.
Has conversations with the parents of the children and urges
the family to visit once a month. This is a condition to be
accepted in the Swarga family.To keep them from being “orphans”.
Family is important.
Joyce spends as much time with the children as possible. They
often make some trips, recently they went to an amusement park
in Kathmandu. Being disabled in Nepal isn’t very pleasant. The
disabled, almost three million in Nepal, are being ignored.
Being disabled is a punishment of god for making faults in your
past life. Families lock the disabled children up in their houses.
They days of king Gyanendra Bir Bikram are almost over, the
Maoists are ready to take over the country. Krishna expects
the country to turn into a republic this year. The Maoists has
laid down their weapons. Taken over the country will be done
peacefully.
Thursday the 10th of may, days after Joyce’s birthday the school
is very quiet. Mother Joyce his going back to her parents in
Etten Leur for three months. “This is my second home, my real
home is Swarga. I don’t want to leave this place any more.”
Blessed with a tika (a red stip, a kind of thirth eye) on her
forehead the sad goodbye follows. For a moment all joy of life
has vanished from Swarga. The school bell rings, books open,
thoughts are no longer with the English class, but with the
long period without Joyce. Untill the seventh of august, when
she will be back.
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