Make no mistake
about it, it has been a struggle to settle into life in Samtengang. The mere
physical inconveniences of often having the power go out or the water simply
not flowing to say nothing of never being able to connect our computers to the Internet, coupled
with the total lack of fresh vegetables or any local produce are challenges
enough, but the apathy of the staff and the ad hoc and arbitrary nature of the
decisions made by the admin of the school accompanied by the random timing of
deadlines, which are invariably declared with little or no notice just hours
before they expire, has been and continues to be what does my head in.
I have regularly
felt that I am being punished for planning and being organized as schedules
change, programs are abandoned and new activities announced with no concern for
those meant to implement the action required and no prior warning. My main
sanity saver is to focus on the students and try to roll with the punches in
other respects. This is not always possible and at least once a week, every
week some issue or other has left me reeling in shock and stunned by what is expected and therefore acceptable.
Our escape is to go
to Bajo. A modern town built to emulate the spectacular traditionally
constructed towns of Bhutan. The old town of Wangdue clung precariously to the
cliff edge along the roadside and was dismantled or demolished and relocated to
this new zone about 2 years ago. Those
same old roadside locations still contain a few remnant traders, the odd hotel and
the offices for some of the utilities. Both the main road and several back
streets in this old sector are lined with overgrown prickly pears that form a
natural barrier and act as protection against thieves.
We first saw this
new development as it was being constructed, from the lateral road heading back
to Thimphu in the winter of 2011. At that time it was a series of gray concrete
towers rising from the dust, much as the new hospital is now. Nowadays it is
complete, lived in and tired looking. As Ian likes to joke, “it is only half
built but already three quarters worn out.” It gives the impression of having
been hastily thrown up to accommodate a newly mobile middle class and to
supply an ever growing number of itinerate workers employed in the hydro-electric
project not far away.
In 2012 a tragic fire
burnt down most of the 17th century Dzong, which was once
dramatically located overlooking the settlement on a ridge. Today only a sad
remnant of that historic building remains.
The new administrative headquarters
is an unimposing but functional building slightly above the new town of Bajo. As the gateway above suggests it is doing its best to represent the proud traditions of Dzongs across the country, despite its humble construction. In
the immediate vicinity there are a couple of walls of prayer wheels and 2
gigantic wheels that are kept in virtually constant motion by ever vigilant and
devoted, senior citizens often with young toddlers in their care. This is by far the most attractive part of the
town.
Inside the grid
pattern of streets lined with brightly painted “traditional” style buildings,
below the new Dzong, the footpaths are often little more than a collection of
rubble, groaning with stock from the stores that occupy the lower storey, the
back alleys are stacked with lumber, worn out appliances and refuse and the
open drains run with foul smelling water.
The streets themselves are more rock and dust than any sealed surface, though they are punctuated with roundabouts that were being shored up with stones and cement on our last visit. There are median strips that run through the middle of most streets and it takes an effort to clamber up and over them to get across the road, due to their considerable height. Perhaps the monsoon rains will confirm the necessity of both them and the equally high curbs.
Vacant lots are littered with all manner of garbage and over run with weeds, with the occasional clearing in which a volleyball net has been hastily strung up and games are often in progress. From a distance, Bajo gives the impression of being an orderly collection of newly erected 3 storey building blocks but up close it is something of an eyesore.
All that aside,
the town is well endowed with a range of hotels and lodgings, restaurants,
cafes and bakeries, many of which we are happy to patronize. The range of goods
available is enormous and the variety of suppliers exceeds any other place we
have seen outside the capital. There are hardware stores, tailors, electrical
repairers, barbers and hairdressers, a pharmacy and even an optician in
addition to the usual range of clothing specialists, general stores cum bars
and dry goods suppliers. Goods from India, China and Thailand are readily
available and business is thriving. Internet cafes, discos, bars and even a
pool hall exist so unlike many other towns, villages and hamlets there is
actually some entertainment for young people.
The Sunday market
is an absolute joy with long lines of local vendors selling locally grown
produce and some cottage industry offerings of local delicacies supplemented by
an unusually diverse rang of Indian produce.
All this is something of a marvel compared to where we live, but the
dusty streets and windswept alleys come across as unloved and soulless. It was
while protecting my eyes from the swirling dust as we walked up from the Book
Fair, held in the middle school, that I first heard the expression ‘Windy-Phodrang’
(as opposed to Wangdue Phrodrang, which is actually the district’s name) and it
did seem rather apt.
Many of the
weekend population, like us, are stopping by on supply missions from other places,
many with spectacularly beautiful mountain backdrops, sheer cliff faces, ravines
with fast flowing, crystal clear, icy water and charming natural environments,
which are currently coming to colourful life as spring blesses the land. I am sure the irony of the ugliness is not
lost on any of Bajo’s weekend visitors any more than it is on us.
Is it the consumer
driven motives, of we who live in the hinterland that have created, what is to
me at least, a rare urban ugliness in Bhutan? The remains of the once bustling
roadside stalls and older settlement seem so much more physically attractive
and environmentally friendly, even if they are located in a more dangerous
traffic zone, inconvenient for parking and hazardous to the traffic which is
bound for places much farther afield.
PS After 3
attempts to get to Bajo yesterday afternoon, we arrived to find the electricity
off here too! The first driver we had pre-booked got a better offer to go to Thimphu and Ian luckily
spotted him in the morning before school and found out that he was no longer available. He told us that his friend
would drive us but when we were waiting next to that vehicle, always parked above
our house, at 2pm, concerned neighbours and primary school colleagues phoned around
and told us, “He has some work,” and later, “He is playing archery.” A quick
call to another driver who happened to be in Bajo already and a mere hour and a
half wait and we were on our way to a lost weekend. We did do our circumambulations at the prayer wheels almost immediately after arriving, however.
Afternoon is never a good
time to be looking for a lift but when you work half days on Saturday there is
really little choice. Now that the power has returned we have few downloads and
updates to attend to using our 3G powered phone connections, before our dash to the
Sunday market, photo print run drop off and the final round of shopping. The
trip back to Samtengang is usually not an issue in terms of finding a ride but ………
as I well know, one has to be flexible.
