On my way to Nepal, I had a 14 hour layover in Doha, Qatar which is a tiny country on the inner vertex of the Arabian Peninsula (kinda geometric for an English teacher, uh?). A Nigerian friend connected me with a friend of his who would take me around the city. Since I have to get out of the airport to be considered to have visited the country, I figured I would take advantage of such a ridiculous layover. Not to knock the country, but there just isn’t a ton to see and do. With all its “black gold” it did a nice job turning the desert into a city of creative architecture. Truly, wherever there wasn’t pavement, there was sand. Besides its oil, I suppose Qatar is best known for its Khalifa Stadium which held the 2006 Asian Games.
Here is the Museum of Islamic Art which just opened in 2009.
The first thing I have to remind you all—as I was reminded myself—is that whatever you assume about the demographics of a country based on pictures and media is WRONG. I found this to be overtly true as I rode through Kathmandu , the capitol, to the apartment I stayed in for a couple nights. The trash-littered roads, tall buildings, billboard signs, buzzing and honking cars, and streams of pedestrians almost brought me back to any given big city in the States. The roadside markets, chaotic driving, makeshift driving machines, and lack of bright lights (or streetlights, for that matter) reminded me that I was still not in First World America. The incredibly narrow and bumpy dirt alleys were likewise reminiscent of the Nigerian roads to residents off the main road.
That said, I did see enough saris and traditional wear—complete with the red tiki on the forehead and nose piercings—to call it common place culture. In fact, we stayed so close to a Stupa, the Buddhist place of prayer and worship, that we passed by it on a daily basis to see the devout march around the building, spinning the prayer wheels and periodically prostrating themselves. It was heart-wrenching to see such hopeless sincerity Even more saddening is when I saw a Westerner with a shaven head and red tunic, displaying a life committed to the search of the truth through following Buddha when they have access to the real Life-giving Truth in their country.
Christmas without a single member of my family was an interesting experience that reinforced both the focus of the season and the truth that all believers make up the family of God. I'm surprised how attached I got to them. I was welcomed to a Christmas Eve dinner as well as a Christmas morning family worship and gift exchange. We even had stockings filled with the things that whisper of home: an orange, chocolate, a toothbrush, a lighter, and nuts. I’m still amazed at how quickly I began an attachment with those folks in Kathmandu . Oh, we also sang real carols on Christmas Eve in a tiny restaurant owned by a Hindu lady. A couple Western monks came in for food and clearly enjoyed our music—and I can’t help but think it was because of the light of truth they saw in them. One of our guys couldn’t help but bring in the Santa suit also.
That afternoon, Kav and I left our temporary stay with her friends in Kathmandu to go to her own place in Pokhara. On the flight over I had my first glimpse of the Himalayas.
The next day we had a picnic with several Nepali families for the purpose to share the Christmas story with them—most were not believers. We sat everyone down on mats after a silent war to get each mat to touch. There were different casts present and it was important to enforce equality. There I met a lady whom will always be imprinted in my memory: Goodday. I played and danced with her daughters and took time to talk with her. This won me the privilege to be invited over later to spend time with her and tell her more about Jesus and how He is not just a god but the One True God.
We were invited over to Sidduh's house for dinner and to share the gospel story with his family. Kav told the story from creation to resurrection and Hom, another new believer, translated. Siddhu’s mother listened intently, which gave us much encouragement.
One day Hom, Saomi (random Japanese girl we picked up), and I crossed Fewa Lake to the World Peace Stupa—a Buddhist monument and place of worship.
From that point, we could see almost all of Pokhara.
As we walked around, we ran into a couple of bison. I HAD to get the photo, but it was also pretty scary being so close to such a big and unpredictable animal. This is what Nepalese eat instead of beef because they treat cows as sacred. Likewise, they make milk and cheese from yaks.
I got to trek up Sarangkot, but those pictures will be coming later. Sorry.
I’ll close for now. As much as I loved Nepal and my time there, I was affirmed that Nigeria in my home. This is undoubtedly where God has me for a season. I am so glad to be back! I’m totally enjoying my time with Tara, my roommate, again and her sister, Jena, who is visiting for the month.
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