Thank You and Goodbye SIF

Yesterday a two member team from Singapore International Foundation visited my school to say a formal goodbye after three years of working together. They spent the whole day here auditing the Bhutan WIREd Project they undertook. 

The project identified five schools- Drukgyel HSS, Chhukha HSS, Punakha HSS, Yangchengatsel LSS, and our school Bajo- and trained five teachers from each school in use of Information Technology in teaching. The project donated ICT equipment to set up a collaborative classroom in each school and brought in six teams of trainers to train 25 of us during the project period. The project also walked the extra mile in taking all of us and our principals to Singapore to give us exposure to how schools there use technology in teaching. Each year the brought in a volunteer and left them at our disposal. These three people, Kong Ming, Jermain and Louis, not only survived our culture and discomforts, they also made their places in the hearts of many Bhutanese teachers. Louis came back again to wind up the project and it was then that I realized how deep an impression he has made on me. I felt like a brother returning home.

And now the time has come for them to say goodbye to us and let us walk our own journey. It's no more difficult to walk independently, the project has done its magic on us and I am saying my goodbye happily. In my final words to our Project Manager Ms. Deeksha, "Please say my thanks to SIF for the finding us and making differences in our lives. I am still amazed at the generosity your organization in a faraway country coming all the way to invest so much in our country." Ms. Deeksha smiled and said, SIF's vision is "making friends for a better world", and I couldn't agree less.
It didn't seem to me that SIF is saying their goodbye yet, they may come back with different project anytime soon and I already committed that if they are going to take WIREd project to other schools we are available anytime.
My love and gratitude to SIF and Singapore!

There are 5 Articles on Singapore in my blog, if you wish to read.

My Rupee Worries

Even without any knowledge on commerce and economy I always saw this problem coming, I am not bluffing, and I am surprised some are only waking up now. I was in Phuntsholing last winter and had the misfortune of seeing how those four ATMs ran out of cash every hour. Our money was going to India as if Bhutanese economy was suffering from shooting diarrhea.
RMA's sudden measure to curb rupee crunch send panic waves across the country; Import business are threatened, constructions sectors are stunned, industries are shocked... and for once I thought out central bank is trying to cut off the neck that pains instead of healing it. Only today, after Dawa's show on BBS I saw the light, the light that should have been shown long ago. But now is not a bad time either.
However, this temporary measure, I fear, might cause permanent damage to our trade relation with people in Jaigoan. With Indian businessmen already shying away from Ngultrum I foresee sudden inflation in daily commodities in few days time. I have to gamble on weather I should already fill my kitchen with cartons of milk powder and cooking oil. I have already fueled my car -as if the problem would be solved before I run out of fuel again, and that sort of shortsightedness is prevalent among us Bhutanese. And even the central bank.
During the discussion, I didn't hear them talk anything about dollar. But some of us on twitter did a little talk of our own, where we mentioned why not use dollar to buy rupee. The problem is with rupee and we are supposed to have earned good amount of dollar through tourism, why can't we use it?
Without taking long term measures the economy diarrhea will never stop, and the current measure is just a radish corked in the bottom, only to build the pressure of outflow after it's been removed. We may have to look at agriculture seriously so that we don't land up importing what we could grow at home. We should revisit our tourism policy and bring some wise reforms. Our daily tariff of $250 scares many potential tourist from coming and spending in our country.
Of all the things we pride in so much, hydro power puts me to shame. We counted on it to rain rupee on us but the funny export agreements for 30 years with outrageously low tariff would making any difference to our economy during our time. By the time we have full ownership the walls of the dam may fall apart and new projects may have to begin again- followed by new agreements. Last winter's news of importing power from India shocked me 440 volts full.
The only two options we could play with are agriculture and tourism: Agriculture for controlling import and tourism for building economy.

Father's Name

My father died in 1984, a year after I was born. He shouldn't have jumped into the river, because rest of the passengers survived that fateful bus accident near Katso bridge. I only saw a picture of him when I became 16. Now I am 29, one year older than my father when he passed away but in last many years I had to write his name over a thousand times. From admission form in school, to security clearance form, to job application form,  to income tax from, to promotion form,... every paper on earth seems to want my dead father's name. Sometime I feared it might not let my father rest in peace.
My poor mother gave me the life I am living today, but nobody seems to place any importance in her except myself. No paper ever had a space to write her name. I wish someday we acknowledge the role of a mother in a child's life and ask her name.

My Mother GAKI!

Emotions aside, even if I didn't have a father who held my fingers through life I at least had his name. Let me write it one more time: Lt. Phub Dorji. And some people would read it Lieutenant Phub Dorji. But there are hundred others who have their fathers alive but don't have names to write. These children are victims of so many deprivations in life and the only thing they generously get is humiliation. And I don't think I can write comprehensively on the influence of humiliation on life.

Therefore, I would like to join women activist Kesang Chhoden in seeking government's attention on the 178 cases she brought forth from the dark shadow around Kanglung College. While her demand for DNA Bank may not be easily possible, I hope she has some very practical proposals in place to take the matter ahead. Government should be wise enough not to try and justify the legitimacy of the children or defend itself, rather join the cause for change, so that long after today history will remember them.

Mathematically speaking mother is a constant, no one will ever question the mother of a child,  while father is just a variable and therefore questionable. Finding x can be very difficult and I wonder why all the papers want the name of a variable than a definite constant.

How Does the Flood Siren Sound?

I live close to the bank of the Punatshangchhu river, and the area was declared red-zone by the experts who were also kind enough to let us know that eight glacier lakes were waiting to burst downstream on to us anytime soon. I am surprised to find myself having a good night's sleep everyday even after knowing that my bedroom may become the riverbed someday soon.
Astrology has pointed at many natural disasters this year, especially flood, and I think I should stop my Bhutanese complacency and strive to know a few things in preparation for the year. I have heard of GLOF mitigation project, where hundreds of people were engaged in lowering the water level of the potential lakes.  I don't know what finished first- work or the money! I also heard of installation of lots of early warning systems, where by people could be alerted before the flood reaches them. Awareness programs were conducted among people living in red zone, to let them know that they are at risk. However the most important piece in the whole puzzle is yet to come in and I wish to know when is it coming.
Three days ago, it was cold and raining and I was working late into the night as usual. When I was about to go to bed I heard a siren. What was it? Any ordinary Bhutanese would ignore it but I live in the red zone and I know there is an early warning system in place, which immediately made me panic. I went out to confirm the source of the siren. It seems to come from the police station or may be the hospital. I waited for a long time before I finally convinced myself that even if it was the flood it may not reach me.
So the missing piece in the puzzle is how does the flood siren sound? How different is it from the sound of a fire engine or an ambulance? If we can't make out the sound of the flood siren, what it the use of investing so much money in having them? When is the right time to tell us the secret of the flood siren?
A mock drill in the red zone should be possible when mock election was possible across the country, and the right time to do it may be now because  natural disaster may not wait for us to prepare.
And as I was sleeping that night I also wondered where to run if at all the flood comes. Yes, where to go? Have we identified the safe place to run to? And who will come to give us instructions- Police, Dzongda or the Gup? Or are we going to repeat the mistake we made during the last earthquake of listening to rumors and spreading them in the absence of proper information dissemination system?
Well, experts were kind enough to let us know the bad news that we are trespassing the way of raging water but I wish they also told us the good news of how we could keep ourselves safe.

I Question the Medical Judgement

When my cousin brother was diagnosed with tuberculosis about twenty years ago, his parents didn't give a second thought and started the long treatment. About five months into the treatment they discovered that the little boy wasn't suffering from tuberculosis. His parents were only thankful that it wasn't TB. Five months of heavy dose didn't matter to them. As years went by the ill effect of heavy doses of wrong drugs showed on his physical features and his mental efficiency.
That was a long time ago and everything was forgiven and forgotten even though my brother is still paying the price each day for error in medical judgement some people made. Over the time everything changed and technology came into hospitals to reduce human errors. But machines are just tools and its the human at the end who has to pass the judgement.
Over the years I was shocked at the number of rumors I heard of people being wrongly diagnosed with TB, and some paying the price with their lives. Advancement of human resources and technology seemed to have made no difference to Bhutan. May be all the rumors I heard are wrong, therefore I may be wrong too if not for what happened early this month.

Photo from  fabulousnurses.com, edited by author   

My nine year old sister was diagnosed with TB from Jigme Dorji Wangchuk National Referral Hospital. She had some swelling below her chin after a long toothache and after series of checkup it was confirmed that it's lymph node tuberculosis called Scrofula. My mother was asking me if they could begin her treatment. I am not a doctor, I am but a loving brother, I don't want to risk my sister. I rushed to Thimphu and found out that all the test reports were negative including the biopsy, which I found from Google as a crucial test. Wikipedia tells me that she should have symptoms such as " fever, chills, malaise and weight loss. As the lesion progresses, skin becomes adhered to the mass and may rupture, forming a sinus and an open wound." but she has none of these except the medical judgement of doctor. I trust the big hospital, I trust the big doctor, but on what basis should I trust this judgement?
I brought my little sister with me and took her to Wangdue Hospital, where I explained my fear and showed the reports to the renowned medical specialist. He checked her neck thoroughly, studied all the reports, took a fresh x-ray and declared that it's NOT tuberculosis. He prescribed her antibiotic for five days after which the swelling subsided.
Now I question the Judgement of that doctor who wanted to fill my sister's stomach with loads of drugs. I even fear that all the rumors I ever heard are true but they all landed nowhere because we Bhutanese are so forgiving. No doctor was ever taken to court for their mistake because we forgive, and because we forgive they take for granted.

Festive Week

This week is full of celebration and I hardly know how to deal with them, therefore just like nothing is happening around I spend my time watching whatever comes on TV and dose off eventually. I have strange weakness you see, I can't take too much of anything. But as the glare of celebration dims I wish to wake up;
I humbly wish my king a very happy birthday, and take this moment to thank him for his vision, concern, and sacrifices.
The Bhutanese, the tenth news paper enters the market with a difference, with long term dreams and as a leader in good journalism. The mover and shaker Tenzin Lamzang already raised our expectations while his stay with Business Bhutan and with his own paper now we don't expect anything less. With each new paper we are seeing truer journalism.
Tshering Dorji, the boy I saw on YouTube received the blessing of trailblazer Mila Tobgay and today he showed the magic of his voice to the Bhutanese people. Wherever Mila Tobgay set his hands on that thing turns into gold. He is the extraordinary Bhutanese that makes me wonder. Congratulations Tshering Dorji for winning National Talent Hunt!
And Finally, Happy Losar to all my readers. Let the Dragon year bring you strength to live your life the way you want. May the Dragon year bring you opportunities to rise higher and live happier. May the newly married couples give birth to healthy dragon babies.

(c) Pema Gyamtsho

I Quit!

No, it's not about me, don't worry. I saw "I Quit" scribbled on the wall in Joy Lobo's room in 3 Idiots. Call me crazy for watching the movie over thirty times and still wanting to watch it, but I have learned so much from it that if I had the power I would honour 3 Idiots with  the Nobel Prize for Literature.
Joy Lobo's song became my favorite and his part in movie portrays how weak students respond to challenges. He throws his great invention in the rubbish bin and hangs himself. Imagine if he completed his project and flew his spy-chopper into Virus' office, wouldn't it justify the delay? Of course it's just a movie, and if that happened in the movie the whole charm would die away. But what Rancho does with Lobo's rubbish is something we should applaud at.

From 3 Idiots 

On the contrary, I was shocked at what I saw on the hostel wall where I went to drop my son last week. "I Quit" was written in bold right at the entrance of his hostel, and I could only hope that whoever wrote it might have written it in good humor. Otherwise, look what our kids are picking on! Of the thousand good lessons in the movie, just that thing which was meant not to play with was picked on.

Seen on Hostel Wall

Who Will Help Her?

About six years ago my wife helped a girl get a job. She was very innocent, beautiful and young but life didn't let her live her youth in peace. She was the eldest sibling and had a young brother in her hand. She had to leave her school and start earning. She was very happy that my wife helped her.
A year later my wife got a call from her family. They wanted to know where their daughter was. She went missing. We didn't know that by help the girl we bought ourselves the trouble of taking all the risk. But because she went missing my wife involved herself fully in the search. By the end of the week long search their only faith was in astrology, and that was the righteous decision they took. The astrologer said the girl was safe and hiding in the place they least expected, and that her captivator will confess it the next morning.
Yes, the next morning they visited her employer and as soon as he saw them he confessed that the girl was at his place. Her already married employer had lured the little girl and now she was talking his words. Despite all the warnings from her family the girl didn't want to leave the man. That was her fault.
In the last five years she was disowned by her family and her husband left his first wife. She still worked for him, only that she is no more paid. We often heard her story of paying the huge price for her mistake from her sister but she never complained. As long as she works fine in the office and works fine at home without questioning anything she was spared. But every time she makes a mistake, every time she was seen going out of office, and every time she asked a question, she was beaten blue and black. Last winter when we met her she wouldn't tell us much but pitifully told was that she wouldn't mind the beating if it weren't in public places, but it happened wherever he gets upset. I was very disheartened and wanted to help her but she didn't seem to need help, god knows why.
But suddenly, last week my wife received a call from her. She wanted to know the RENEW's contact number. She was scared after what happened that morning- her husband threw stone at her in a restaurant and when he missed his shot he booted her. I immediately rushed to my computer and looked for what she asked. I got it but I wasn't sure if she would dare to ask for help, so I made my wife ask her if it was ok for me to get her the help. She quickly yesed it. I went to RENEW website and since it was in the evening I knew there won't be people at office and therefore I wrote an email (to enquiry@renewbhutan.org ) just like I wrote it here with her phone number.
It's over four days now and I have checked my inbox umpteen times. When I finally called the office (02332159) a coughing girl on the other end told me that they don't take complains from email. I was asked to send the girl to their office. I explained how it's not possible. The girl on the phone then asked me to hold on, and then I heard intercom ringing. It went on ringing until I finally hung up. Who will help her?

Update 14 Feb 2012: My apologies to RENEW if my article affected anybody, It was my fault not to have tried different ways. But I am very happy that they took this seriously and reached out to me. They even said that they are going to put up the concerned Mobile Numbers on their website. For now if you have any complains get in touch with Dr. Meenakshi, Community Outreach Director at Mobile no. 17666955. And Thanks Kesang C Dorjee.

Teacher: The Restricted Species

This vacation I have had the privileged of travelling different places and sharing my winter with variety of teachers at the expense of government. I had written program for what was to happen in the classroom and I have even written the report on what happen in last fifty days and how I used up nearly a million ngultrum that spent some nights in my bank account.
However the best part of the show wasn't these rigid official stuffs, they were but the joy of reunion of long lost friends, excitement of meeting new people whom I wish I had met ages ago, the jokes we crack over tea and lunch and the hope and promise of meeting again.
Today I said good bye and received generous acknowledgement from the last batch of teachers. And as I shut down the last computer in Punakha I stopped to reflect on the winter vacation that I didn't have, and from among infinite memories something stood out quite firmly which made me laugh. It's something about the change in human behavior after one becomes teacher, of course it's just my personal theory based on my crazy observations this cold season, that most teachers are fond of tobacco and alcohol.
These two intoxicating substances are the plots of all stories that teachers talk about. It's amazing how many hands come forward at the sight Baba khaini or cigeratte, and how promptly everybody joins you in a bar late in the evening. It's not even surprising to smell strong alcoholic breath from teachers' early in the morning. If you don't drink, and if you don't even smoke or chew tobacco then you are considered a saint or an abnormal teacher.
While I enjoyed the same bloodline I couldn't help wondering why we became so even after knowing all the ill effects in the world. I curiously asked a few of them, some say it's because of the huge population of teachers while I found more substance in the second reason we found- that these stuffs are forbidden fruits for teachers and the human inside us overtook the teacher in us. We are the restricted species among the humankind and therefore we are rampaging into our freedom.

Hotel California in Punakha

Tea Break

I only heard of it like a story from a far off place, though I am into teaching for five years now, that it's such a fun at the winter correction camp in Punakha High School. They say it's like hotel California- "You can checkout any time you like, but you can never leave."
I am in Punakha School as well but on a different mission. I am training teachers of Punakha and Gasa under Chigphen Rigphel Project. And this is the closest I ever came to the place from where my fate was decided years ago, from where fates of thousands were decided every year, and from where fates of many teachers are changed year after year- yes teachers make big money here, I only heard of it like a story you know.

What Makes it Hotel California? 

1. All your lost friends suddenly reemerge from their isolation and it becomes the best vacation down the memory lane.
2. Meeting old friends helps you forget your age, and this is exactly what happens in Punakha. Weeks in Punakha helps you fight aging and wrinkles better than Ponds Age Miracle. 
3. The amount of money you make and the relationship you build here in the camp makes you feel like you belong to the place forever. Therefore most of the teachers in the camp are almost permanent staff, having booked their place for eternity, which so much connects with hotel California's closing line: "but you can never leave."

One Teacher One Car

Over hundred teachers gathered here to check class ten papers, and I am surprised to see so many familiar faces. They were surprised to see me as well- a new face among them in Punakha, but I confirmed them that I wasn't with them.