A Rabbit for Half a Rupee

By Barbara Collier

Weekly letters from a leprosy hospital in the foothills of the Himalayas form the basis of this memo of an English family living in Nepal in the 1970s. Battling with language learning; bartering in the bazaar; tackling home schooling for two boys and helping to run an international playgroup - these are just a few of the challenges Barbara Collier faces.Later, travelling with three children through Thailand and Burma proves an eventful experience. Sickness brings complications and the alteration of plans in their final year.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481781947

Barbara Collier

After training as a nurse and midwife in London in the 1960s Barbara Collier concentrated on marriage and motherhood until her husband, Philip, an accountant, became Field Finance Director of the Leprosy Mission. Together with their three children under 7 they travelled to Asia in 1971. Based in Kathmandu, Nepal, she shared the adventure and challenge of third world living, with limited communication and hazardous transport as well as irregular water and electricity supplies. Barbara was glad of a sense of humour when Philip was away in India and the Far East and she faced numerous domestic crises. She enjoyed writing newsy letters and getting to know her local neighbours. Now a freelance writer, she looks back with gratitude for the privilege of experiencing life in the beautiful, developing country of Nepal.

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A

Rabbit For

Half a Rupee

Barbara Collier

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© 2013 by Barbara Collier. All rights reserved.

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Published by AuthorHouse 01/25/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8192-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8193-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8194-7 (e)

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Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1 Seven Items Of Hand Baggage

Chapter 2 Anandaban

Chapter 3 Comings And Goings

Chapter 4 Learning Together

Chapter 5 Ready To Move?

Chapter 6 Philip Flies South

Chapter 7 Lessons For All

Chapter 8 Food And Festivals

Chapter 9 A Tale Of Two Rivers

Chapter 10 First Christmas

Chapter 11 Pokhara

Chapter 12 Death Of A King

Chapter 13 Sickness In The Family/1

Chapter 14 Sickness In The Family/2

Chapter 15 Grazing Ground

Chapter 16 Family And Other Visits

Chapter 17 More Visitors

Chapter 18 Christmas And A Merry Birthday

Chapter 19 Further East

Chapter 20 At Home And Away

Chapter 21 Another Move

Chapter 22 Notes From Anandaban

Chapter 23 Man’s Plans?

Chapter 24 Convalescence

Chapter 25 Final Days

Epilogue

INTRODUCTION

What! Taking three small children to Asia to live at a leprosy hospital? Family and friends were shocked at the thought. It was useless to explain that leprosy is one of the least contagious diseases and we were not expecting to live IN the hospital building. Prejudice produces fear, as one leprosy doctor discovered when he tried to sell a typewriter. The would-be buyer somehow imagined it was infected!

Philip and I with David, nearly 7, Jim, almost 5 and Ruth, barely two years old, were preparing to fly to Asia with the Leprosy Mission. Philip, an accountant, would do a survey of field finances in a number of Indian hospitals. We had expected to stay in Delhi, but missionary visas were not readily available in 1970, so Kathmandu, Nepal, was suggested as our base. The mission had a hospital in the nearby foothills and there was a British Primary School to provide education for the children.

Kathmandu! What romantic images it evoked from Kipling:

"Himalaya, heavenward heading, sheer and vast, sheer and vast,

A million summits bedding on a lost world’s past.

A certain sacred mountain where the scented cedars climb . . . ."

For me, the memorable mountain had pine clad slopes and was called Anandaban, meaning ‘Forest of Joy.’ Although we were there for less than three years it was an unforgettable place, altogether more varied and exciting than anything imagined.

We were humbled to view at close hand an amazing third world culture, cheerful and generous, putting Western materialism to shame. At times it was challenging and exhausting. Our weekly letters to our parents described our experiences. Extracts from many of them are included, for example:

July 23rd. 1973. I used to imagine myself as a missionary, ‘striding through the jungle in a white hat’ as Dad so humorously put it. In reality, of course, missionary life is no more romantic than any other kind of existence, even if it is full of unexpected things (not always pleasant.) I have not changed a lot of lives, but simply carried on being a housewife and mother in different circumstances, learning a lot in the process.

CHAPTER 1

SEVEN ITEMS

OF HAND BAGGAGE

One chilly winter morning in Hertfordshire our toddler, Ruth, was ‘helping’ me pack. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed her reaching up to drop something in one of the three large oil drums being prepared for shipment via India. On investigation I discovered the valve for the pressure cooker, a vital component. Rescuing it, I packed it safely inside the cooker. During those early days of 1971 the drums were filled with many of the anticipated needs of a family of five for the next three years.

Immediate necessities were crammed into the airline baggage allowance for four. Because Ruth’s second birthday was due several days after the flight booked for us she did not qualify for a seat, or baggage. Anyone who has travelled with a toddler knows how much basic stuff is needed for any journey, let alone an overnight one of 6,000 miles . . . .

I had never flown before. Although Philip had flown to Europe as a teenager our family holidays had not extended beyond Wales or the south coast of England. But there was no time to be nervous. As well as my handbag I had a baby bag for Ruth. We were also able to bring a lightweight folding buggy pushchair—a new invention in those days—into the plane for her. Philip was carrying a large flight bag and a portable typewriter—(no laptops in those days!) During the preceding weeks I had taken a short typing course in the hope of being able to type letters and reports.

The boys were delighted to have a duffle bag each, containing travel essentials. (David had the potty in his!) A large box of Lego proved impossible to fit in until, in desperation, we emptied it into Jimmy’s bag and the pieces settled down to fill every odd corner—so between us we had seven items of hand baggage. At Heathrow Airport there was an extra security alert because of trouble in the Middle East. I described it in a letter to Philip’s parents:

A last minute police search included frisking. For an awful moment I thought they were going to empty out the contents of the boys’ duffle bags, but we were spared having Lego, etc. scattered everywhere.

It was a dull morning when we left London, but: the clouds cleared as we flew over France and as we left Paris we had a glimpse of boats on the Seine. Flying over the Alps was awe inspiring—(what will the Himalayas look like?) After a short stop for leg stretching at Rome we had a beautiful view of the calm, blue Mediterranean.

Japan Airlines gave a very good service throughout, including hot towels after every take-off, very refreshing. Dark clouds surrounded us as we approached Beirut and we had the impression of a storm. Then there were myriads of winking lights beneath us and Jimmy commented: It’s like a great big Christmas tree with loads of decorations!

The family slept fitfully during the long night until a rainbow coloured sky announced the sunrise over India. Then we caught sight of the Morning star, bright and clear, against a blue background. As we were approaching Delhi at the time it seemed almost symbolic—but, lest I became too starry-eyed, I was brought back to earth by a sudden, unexpected attack of air sickness!

Five ‘fools’ landed safely at 6am. on April 1st. Our Indian director, Dr. Das, had been waiting since 4.45 at the airport. We all piled into a taxi for Delhi’s YMCA hotel. On that first journey in India I had fleeting, contrasting impressions—swaying bullock carts and honking army trucks filling the road; areas of parched grass and masses of bougainvillea trailing over walls; little wayside stalls, whose owners sleep on the pavement beside them, alongside large, modern European style buildings.

About 7.30 am we reached the hotel, set in a flowered garden with neat green lawns shaded by palm and other trees. We were greeted by an imposing, tall turbaned doorman with a fierce expression, guaranteed to discourage any bad behaviour.

Our two air conditioned rooms had wonderfully comfortable beds and we spent a restful morning, trying to catch up on lost sleep while the outside temperature soared to over 100F. In the attached bathroom the toilet looked (and smelt) as though it had not been cleaned. A room boy obligingly wiped it over with a rather grubby cloth, but I longed for a bottle of disinfectant. Later I washed some of the children’s clothes and used the suds to slosh over several doubtful areas!

Philip wrote: I ventured out for a short walk and in ten minutes had refused three offers of taxis to the airport, two offers of illicit currency conversion and one of hashish.

April 2nd: Today we went to the Red Fort, a fine old piece of architecture about as big as the Tower of London and coloured the same browney red as the soil, so that it looks as if it is growing out of the ground. We bought sun hats for the boys from an open fronted shop. They tried on the hats displayed and, when the style had been chosen, the shop keeper produced clean ones from a plastic bag.

Although the tourist attractions are interesting, it is the ordinary open street which is most fascinating, with its cars, taxis, bicycle rickshaws, cows, bullock carts, bikes and variously clad pedestrians all jostling each other; peanut-sellers sitting on the pavement weighing out their merchandise on little hand scales; palm trees and brightly coloured flowers all seen in the brilliant glare of the blazing sun. Tooting the horn is neither a sign of impatience nor an effective means of influencing other traffic. It is merely a social norm—a kind of ritual to be enacted by a driver when there is anything in front.

Back at the hotel we got used to the rhythmic sound of the large electric ceiling fan in our rooms, slowly circulating the torrid air. From the courtyard echoed the shouts of the dhobi men doing the laundry.

April 3rd: We got up at 4.30 to catch a flight from Delhi at 7am. It did not actually leave until nearly 1pm. I wrote to my parents:

During the long wait the children were very good and, of course, there was much to see, including workmen swarming up and down wooden scaffolding on a nearby construction site. Several Indian people came up to speak to us and some mothers with babies were fascinated by Ruth’s pushchair. Once we were in the air Ruth fell asleep immediately and slept on my lap throughout the two hour flight.

Seating was scarce and I found myself next to a silent Sikh, wearing a dark red turban. Philip sat behind with Jimmy. David sat opposite me. He could not contain his excitement and kept leaning across his companion, a young Englishman, in order to see out of the window. The heat on the plain beneath was so intense that the mountains were shrouded in mist and we saw little as we flew over. Then followed a swift descent, a jolt and a bump and we were on the runway in Kathmandu.

It was a relief to find Dr. John Harris waiting for us on the tarmac as we came down the steps. He steered us through the customs in no time, speaking fluent Nepali. Soon we were rattling through the town in the hospital Land Rover on the way to Anandaban. We had arrived!

CHAPTER 2

ANANDABAN

The wide Kathmandu valley was once a glacial lake. It is surrounded by foothills, rising in the North towards the snow peaks of the high Himalayas. The hillsides are in deep glacial folds, giving the appearance of corrugated cardboard.

Anandaban Leprosy hospital is built into the hillside at over 5,000 feet above sea level, twelve miles from Kathmandu and reached by a precipitous, winding mountain road. The name Anandaban means ‘forest of joy’ in Nepali.

Philip wrote: The hospital and its outbuildings are on a steep slope overlooking a magnificent valley. We can never see all the view at once, because the whole slope is wooded with pine trees and banana palms, also bamboo and tall pampas grass, with various cactuses, sometimes used as hedges.

Our bungalow was solidly built of brick and stone. I described it to my parents:

Entering the front door there is a guest bedroom and bathroom on each side of a short passage leading to the main lounge/dining room. A large open fireplace is in the corner of this room. The adjacent kitchen has stone work surfaces and lots of built-in cupboards. There is also a small scullery-cum-pantry where we cook on a kerosene