As I look back on the almost one year I have spent in Samtengang I can’t help
but wonder what it was that made this place such a struggle for us. We were
surely among the best prepared for this second stint in Bhutan with a wealth of
previous experience, a real understanding of what it takes to succeed in a
small Bhutanese community and hands on knowledge of how to bring life to the
curriculum. So what went wrong?
Immediately,
the school administration and the isolation of this community, come to mind.
From the start we found the challenges of the location much more demanding than
we expected and like many other BCFers I found the severity and incidence of corporal
punishment in my school to be alarming. The lack of professionalism and
management style, were also confronting but not unexpected. Certainly Ian’s
terrible accident that was incorrectly diagnosed as a severely sprained ankle
and therefore inappropriately treated for 2 months did not help either. 6
months later his recovery continues to be “under process” as a local expression
would have it.
Just
one day after most of the students have departed, it is glaringly obvious to me
that it was my students who kept me grounded and provided me with the
motivation to hang on here. My loyalty to BCF also ensured that I never really
contemplated breaking my contract though I was sorely tempted. It has been the
students and their love of learning, their quirky characters, their open and
honest communication and their heartfelt comments that make me feel so bereft now
that they are gone and I am here alone in the staffroom typing, while no-one
else is anywhere to be seen, despite the strict instruction that no-one was to
leave before lunch issued not 30 minutes ago!
At
the moment only class X students, who are about to commence their board exams,
remain on campus and I have never taught them and have had little contact with
them this year, Though one or 2 pop up to check on some grammar issue or as
they like to say ”clarify some doubt” as I sit here in the upper staffroom. I have always made the students I teach, the
focus of my professional career and here more than ever it has been necessary
to look at school through their eyes and not fall into the trap of sympathizing
with colleagues or taking their evaluation of situations as the absolute truth.
I have been in tears more times than I care to recall and the most upsetting
event for me was when students asked me why I was so upset about having seen
them being kicked publically in assembly. It occurred to me then, for the first
time, that this is so normal to them that they do not even understand that it
is not right. I note with a heavy heart that this is the exact reason why BCF
colleague Kevin felt obliged to resign and depart early from his placement in
Bidung.
When
I considered our new placement back in January, long before we wound our way up
that now familiar unsealed farm road, I thought that there were similarities
between Samtengang and Rangjung. Both are about 45 minutes from their respective
district capitals, both are classified “semi-urban” and both consist mainly of
farming communities who support themselves on the crops that they grow and are
largely self sufficient. We were soon to discover that the erratic supply of
water and occasional lack of electricity were also similarities.
Now
I marvel at how 2 such totally different places could be given the same
descriptor.
Rangjung
is an easy drive from Trashigang on a ‘black topped’ road. Samtengang follows
the lateral road to the Chuzumsa turnoff where it turns into a rough and bumpy
ride up in the dry winter months and a slippery and treacherous track in the
monsoon.
The
row of neat, little, traditional general stores in Rangjung selling largely the
same dry goods, an odd assortment of clothes, stationery, household appliances
and religious items as well as week old vegetables trucked in from India, has
no equivalent here in Samtengang. In Rangung these stores lined both sides of
the short, main street with a small chorten on a traffic island in the centre
of town. There is a road in Samtengang but it is not the centre of any business
community. Instead dirt tracks and shortcuts lead up to or down to small
enterprises. There are a few scattered shops selling basic supplies, stationery
and snacks but no vegetables, rice or any other fresh food is available. These
shops are in little clusters and often in the front room of a home or a
makeshift hut hastily constructed and as we saw on our first few days, equally
hastily deconstructed and relocated when the local authorities deem it
necessary. These establishments cater mostly to primary school students’ before
school and post school shopping requirements, though the odd local does buy
beer or sugar too. I can honestly say that we have been grateful for the supply
of both over the last few months. The implication of this is that travelling
back and forth, on the previously mentioned road is a necessity and for us a
tendency to stock up big and hoard basic consumables has evolved. The paved
footpaths of Rangjung are an oddity for any Bhutanese village and we never
expected them replicated here and they certainly aren’t.
The
sense of community created by the ever-visible lhakhang and the host of
religious rituals, festivities and celebrations, it inspired in Rangjung were
certainly a highlight of our time there.
There are temples and monasteries dotted all over the hillsides
surrounding Samtengang and we did stumble onto one, on one of the last hikes we
did before Ian’s accident but there have been few religious rituals performed
here, except our school purification rituals earlier in the year. I am sure
each local community is engaged in the activities based in their local temple
but we have never participated or been drawn by the crowds to attend as we were
in Rangjung. Our days have not been punctuated by the sounds of the longhorns
though the rhythmic tinkling of the bell that rings as the primary school
prayer wheel is fervently turned, has been a welcome auditory constant.
Don’t
even get me started on the Internet connectivity. What we once referred to as
the Intermittent-net in Rangjung, would be a joy here. Finally, our slow and
often erratic Internet gave way to a broadband connection, which was far from
state of the art or fast but vaguely reliable, out east. Here, 3 or 4 hours
from the capital, my phone sometimes connects in the morning, from my desk on
the second floor but rarely at home and attempting to use the hotspot to
connect any other device will only result in the ever dreaded popup “Could not
activate cellular data network – You are not subscribed to a cellular data
service.” Ian’s is marginally better but that’s not saying much. We have become
accustomed to accessing what little we can, when we can or availing when we
reach Bajo town on one of our fortnightly shopping runs.
The
school situations in which we have found ourselves could really not have been
more disparate. Ian’s convivial and ever-understanding principal has been more
than helpful at both a personal level and a professional one. My school on the
other hand has issued commands, complaints and criticisms to almost all staff
in never ending meetings that are called on an ad hoc basis. Decisions made are
regularly overturned soon after and policies passed and documented after long
discussions seem to be implemented only if there is a fear of being caught for
not doing so by higher authorities. The usual issues of rarely knowing what is
planned or programmed that come with high context cultures have maddeningly
plagued us both and I am sure that they are simply unavoidable in the Bhutanese
system. Flexibility is the euphemism for ‘do as instructed without questioning’
and it sometimes seems that requests for information are viewed as conspiratorial.
I
am well aware that my own need to address issues that I perceive as unjust,
inappropriate and simply unlawful and to do so directly, bluntly and
immediately, has not endeared me to my administration and whilst I do see this
as a serious shortcoming, I also feel deeply that in this society where
underlings rarely if ever express their dissatisfaction and inefficiency is
accepted, change will be impossible unless someone speaks out. In both schools
where I have worked I have had the experience of silently berating myself for
this behaviour as I walked home, only to be approached by a staff member who
was present, who then confided in me that they were glad I spoke up at the
meeting, as they do not feel that they can without ramifications.
So……
why do we want to stay and work in Thimphu next year you may well ask! Well the
bottom line is I am a teacher. I can’t imagine myself doing anything else and
the rich and rewarding experience of sharing the teaching and learning process
with these students daily, is magical. I am indebted to them for the sheer joy
they have brought me and the way they have motivated me to be a better person,
to do my job better and become better at what I do. Also without a doubt, I am
addicted to Bhutan, the people, the incredible culture and the sense of playful
innocence and competent, resourceful, independence each of these very diverse
students brings to the classroom. Quite simply we couldn’t just walk away
without giving this one more shot.
