This is the long-delayed post on the medical mission trip I went on, from 8-21st April 2010.
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In a Holland Village kopitiam at 3am, over cups of milo and teh peng, Ken Tay and I watch Man Utd race towards qualification in the Champions League, until Robben’s cunning and Rafael’s inexperience lead to a sickening loss. Leanne and Emmanuel are seated nearby, and wish me journey mercies when I leave for some last minute packing.
0530, and mother dear dutifully wakes up to her chiming iPhone alarm. Aaron and Bryan, my companions on this trip, are picked up while on the way to the airport, and the journey begins.
Our flight to Kathmandu transits for just over an hour at Bangkok International Airport, and Bryan, the officer one in the group, decides that we should go for a Thai massage near our gate. While heading to the parlor, I recall the news that Bangkok is in a state of emergency, and observe that around me, the only emergencies that are seemingly taking place involve travelers rushing late to their gate. The parlor itself is situated along a busy corridor, with the massage chairs at the shop window, in open view of all passersby. I suppose this arrangement serves to promote the parlor’s services to weary and dishevelled travelers, while also differentiating itself from the seedy massage parlors Bangkok is known for. We have half an hour, enough time for a shoulder and foot massage, and I am expectant, having heard the wonders of a Thai massage. Unfortunately, my masseuse appears disinterested in her skill, her fingers weakly nudge against my shoulders, tired from the messaging she had been doing. As her fingers move from one area to the next, I brace myself for that feeling when firm hands force resistant muscles to relax. I am continually let down. Aaron and Bryan seem unimpressed as well. Our masseuses begin chatting to one another; this does not look like a good advertisement, especially when potential customers can observe your efforts from the window. Perhaps we should have been warned by the empty parlor before stepping in. Once the sessions ends, we hurry on to our gate. Hopefully our disappointment in Bangkok is not an indicator how things will turn out in Nepal.
I had always dreamt of traveling to Nepal. The land of Everest and the Himalayas (Sanskrit for ‘the abode of snow’), where yak and Sherpa survive despite the ice and snow and chilly gusts. Oh, it was a rude shock to arrive into hot, hazy Kathmandu. I had expected this, having looked at the packing list that specified shorts and t-shirts, and from my glance through Lonely Planet, but I could not imagine Nepal being anything other than snow and high mountains. I stare down at Kathmandu from the airplane window in some disbelief.
Kathmandu International is a charming airport from a bygone area; you step off the plane, walk from the tarmac into the brick building, pass bored customs officers and detectors (which are clearly not working), and are finally greeted by throngs of crafty taxi drivers. We politely refuse their offers, and wait for our contact, Gopal Sebastian, to arrive and pick us up. GS, as he is affectionately known, arrives an hour late, but fortunately does not come empty-handed, providing us with slices of pizza as we make our way to lunch at Jars of Clay. GS is a broad, well-built man who is very much to-the-point. I have a hunch that he might have been an army regular in the past, and this is confirmed on our trip to lunch, when he launches into a brief on himself, his mission, and what is happening ‘on the ground’ in Nepal. He is also interested to hear about our journey, as well as our plans after the medical mission. While the conversation is going on, I cannot help but notice the lack of traffic lights, as well as the two big cows lazily grazing on a patch of grass at a busy roundabout. I am still surprised by chaotic, polluted Kathmandu.
An hour later, we pull over next to a side street and make our way to Jars of Clay, a restaurant run by GS and his wife, Jacqueline. Aunt Jacq comes across as a quiet, determined and sensible lady, managing a family (with three kids!), business and ministry simultaneously, without fuss. She also makes a fantastic teriyaki sandwich. As Aaron, Bryan and I dig into our first proper meal of the day, we are joined by a group who arrived a day earlier. Becky, Charlotte, Ruth, Stacey, and Ian (the guy), are eager to catch up and enlighten us on the luxuries of water rationing and power shortages. Their extra day has made them old heads, and they sagely dispense advice such as, “shower quickly before power is cut” and “use no more than one pail of water, or there won’t be enough for the rest”.
After lunch, GS brings us to Pastor Erick’s house, where we will stay for the night. Pastor Erick stays in a lovely three storey house in the Jawalikhel district. Once freshened up, we head downstairs to begin some serious pre-mission medicine packing. Labour is divided into sorting, labelling, and packing of medicines and the production line continues for three long, back-breaking hours. Aaron’s handwriting has visibly degenerated over the hours, and on some labels, ’3 tablets a day’ has become ’2 talets day’, or something like that.
Once the final boxes of medicine have been sorted and kept, it is time for dinner. Pastor Erick takes us to the restaurant he runs, Singma. I learn that Singma is not some play on the word ‘Sigma’ but means ‘Singapore-Malaysia’, reflecting the cuisine served. Dinner is a quick affair, as the three of us who arrived today have not had time to rest, and so an hour later we are back in the house preparing to bathe and go to sleep. When it comes to my turn to bathe, I arm myself with a torch and head to the bathroom. This turns out to be a good decision as while I wait outside, power is cut and I hear a scream from inside the bathroom. When it comes to my turn, power is restored (thankfully), and my time in Sai Yok camp is relived by bathing from a pail filled with icy water.
The room is quiet, and everyone is weary. The adults will be arriving tomorrow and we will be moving to the town of Dhulikhel, where we will set up base for the medical mission. My imagination is running wild again, and I can hardly wait to go to this rural town in the mountains. For now though, rest is in order.
