ROAD BLOG AHEAD

I have been working on several blog posts over the past week or so, most of them on fairly serious subjects were more abstract than is my usual wont. I suppose you could call it writer’s block, but mostly it seems that so much has been going on around here lately that it’s hard to find blocks of time to give those posts the attention those subjects are due. Really, much has been going on which means there is no lack of things to write about, pictures to show you, ideas, projects, etc. etc. etc. and yet I have yet to complete and publish one of those blog posts. Today handed a break the trend — not with one of the heavy posts or the in-depth analyses, but with a quick look at some of what has been happening around here.

Probably the biggest — or rather the most complex project has been starting to plan our next trip to North America. This involves responding to the many teaching requests we’ve had for Lama Lena from both individuals and centers coast-to-coast and as far away as Brazil, contacting those we haven’t yet heard from and then scheduling teachings accordingly. Trying to coordinate a teaching tour that balances the needs of both teacher and students and the schedules of the centers themselves, is a kind of jigsaw puzzle in action, albeit one in which the pieces are constantly shifting. I’ve been doing this for over 20 years now for both my lamas and know how to make the puzzle come together. Well, more or less anyway. I’ve often referred to it as juggling flaming chainsaws while rollerskating on a sea of ball bearings! It’s quite a project and I am really grateful for all the help I’ve had so far. There are still many puzzle pieces to be fit and many factors to juggle and anyone reading here on a regular basis will probably hear me pleading for additional assistance from time to time.

In addition to burning up the ‘net with e-mail, Lama Lena herself has been really busy wearing her doctor’s hat. We’re smack in the middle of winter now, which means all the usual seasonal colds, flu and sore throats plus myriad aches and pains due to the weather. It also means - especially for a lot of the old folks among the refugees - illnesses brought on through poor nutrition or lack of money for pursuing good nutrition as well as a lack of heat and warm shelter. Emergency Fund resources are tight as we start 2010 since I haven’t been exactly beating the bushes this past year due to my own illnesses. Between reaching into our own pockets and the kindness of several compassionate friends who have helped out, we have still been able to make sure that the worst off people have vitamins and the essentials of rice and beans, tsampa, cooking oil etc. This very local area is preparing for a drought which means prices have gone up so it’s even harder for a lot of folks (this relates to one of the blog posts I’m actually working on that will come along sometime in the near future.) Even for those who have a bit of money, some days there just isn’t a whole lot available in the market and what there is cost more than the poorest folks can afford. Sometimes taking care of community health means taking care of lunch.

There’s plenty of specific health crises too. For whatever reason, we’ve seen a lot of uncontrolled type II diabetes this year, a lot of it among people you really wouldn’t expect to be diabetic. What we’ve learned is that those diabetic supplies that are plentiful and relatively cheap in the Western world are often beyond the means of our patients here. Glucometer test strips have been a prime example. What seems a little pricey in America for a simple strip to test a person’s blood sugar once or twice a day, is the equivalent of a day’s wages here. That pretty staggering and doesn’t include the actual pills or insulin injections to control the diabetes itself. One of our patients as a farmer and laborer who earns maybe two American dollars a day for working really really hard. He doesn’t fit the profile of a typical diabetic: he’s lean and not prone to overeating, he not only does hard manual labor as a farmer and in the other jobs he picks up to supplement his family’s income, but he does a daily yoga routine as well. And yet, for all his apparently healthy lifestyle when his diabetes flared up last month he was in really bad shape. He had skin infections, pneumonia and it became necessary to hospitalize him to try and get his blood sugar control. Two months later was still working on controlling it. We’ve been lucky and had donations of diabetic supplies that will get them through this initial crisis, but his need Is lifelong. Hopefully once he’s gotten stabilized he won’t have to test himself quite as frequently and be able to go back on oral medication rather than insulin and that will drop the costs.

Then there’s Nana, a wonderful 70-year-old who Lena has treated for other things over the years. Readers of this blog might remember her as the lady who makes the best soda bread in town. Unfortunately she’s not going to be making any bread at all for a little while. A few weeks ago she fell coming out of a shop on the main drag and broke her hip.Here’s Nana back in October, before her accident:

Now, back home in Tibet, for a person to break their hip is essentially a death sentence. Without any way to repair the break, the individual will lay in her bed, unable to walk or fend for herself. Eventually she will succumb to an infection or - most likely - bedsores. Not very nice way to go. So Nana and her family — including her 20 something step-grandson who absolutely adores her — spent the first 24 hours after she fell in denial that it was actually broken. Sunday afternoon they finally called Lena to come down and take a look. She went down to town, already pretty sure from their description, what she would find and very concerned. Because even around here (which has more medical resources than rural Tibet) getting a broken hip properly taken care of wasn’t going to be an easy proposition. Once she examined the patient and saw for herself the almost sure evidence of a fracture, getting it x-rayed was a real challenge on Sunday night! There are simply no emergency resources in town except us and Ankush the paramedic pharmacist who lives next door. We checked in with our various resources in Mandi, the nearest sizable town, and, as expected, there was no x-ray facility open. Even if there had been, the Mandi hospitals informed us that they did not have facilities for surgically pinning and setting a broken hip. They too would have simply put the patient to bed and she would never walk again. At that point, we were prepared to find a way to transport Nana to Chandigarh, six hours away, where there are excellent, state-of-the-art medical facilities. It was going to be a very long, painful and expensive journey for Nana - and for Lena. However, at the last minute, as I was online trying to get directions to the hospital in Chandigarh, one of Lena’s doctor friends remembered that a new clinic had opened in another nearby town not very many months ago and thought maybe they might have x-ray facilities. He gave her the number, she called and lo and behold — the Dr. there are (the only doctor there) turned out to be - get this - an orthopedic surgeon who knew how to surgically repair a broken hip! Nobody, but nobody knew about this clinic’s existence until that phone call. It’s way underutilized - new and off in an industrial area, but as convenient for us as Mandi. I still consider it totally serendipitous that he turned up just when we needed that particular miracle.

This is Nana being prepped for surgery. You’ll note it looks nothing like a Western surgical theater. This is the only picture that I thought would actually suit the blog. The rest of them are the surgery itself and pretty graphic. Fortunately Lena was allowed to scrub up and attend the surgery so she could take care of Nana. The other upside to this was that she was able to take some excellent photos — if you like pictures of big incisions and orthopedic hardware.

And here is Nana at home week later, recovering nicely in her own bed. One of the other great miracles about the situation was the presence in town of marvelous woman who Lena first met when she and Rimpoche taught in Canada. Onalayah herself has the medical background and experience in patient care. She has been an angel - able to see to it that Nana’s home care has been conscientious, compassionate and all round excellent. We fully expect Nana will make a full recovery and be back on her feet by and by, likely sooner than later as she’s doing so well.

Speaking of doing so well, I promised a photo of Sonam Yutron out walking about. Remember Sonam Yutron? Our original “poster girl” for the Emergency Medical Fund” has gone from being completely bedridden for 4 years, crippled with rheumatoid arthritis and nearly blind from cataracts to walking - slowly - around Lotus Lake. Seeing her walking and enjoying the view makes my heart sing!

I could go on and on about all the various situations, but I’ll leave it at that for now. Just a little taste of what we’re doing with our time. Lena far more than me of course.

I am going to leave you all now with one more picture. It’s actually one in a series of pictures that I’ve collected in the process of researching local knitting patterns. I’m working on a book about traditions and techniques in Himalayan knitting, researching and trying to recreate patterns and motifs of the region, most of which haven’t ever been published before or shown in the Western world. There’s some really exciting things to see and learn from these people who have found all sorts of beautiful ways to keep themselves warm and dry in winter. The images I’ll be showing you represent only the tip of the iceberg.

Here is one example of traditional colourwork socks (left) and my first attempt at replicating the technique and patterns I’ve learned (right):

There are also some really ghastly creations by people who never should have been allowed freedom with sticks and string. I’m going to end some of my posts with pictures of these “what were they thinking?” sweaters over the next little while, just to give the knitters among my friends and readers something to giggle over.

Some of the worst atrocities are foisted off on small children. It’s not that this sweater is badly made, it’s just that it’s so…”what was mom thinking?” Okay, so you know how to do bobbles and beads. And stripes. That doesn’t mean that you should do them all at the same time and, if you do, it still doesn’t mean you ought to dress your darling child in the resulting chaos. I’m sure the surly look on this little girl’s face is because she knows that she’s being photographed in something that might better have gone to live in the frog pond:

Remember - this really is just the tip of the iceberg. There’s lots more where this one came from! Stay tuned.

The cat got the yak

‘Til Nyondo put it back

Now everything is covered

With dust from Ladakh

It’s been crazy here. Will try to actually explain the crazy in the next few days.

Today’s highlight was the arrival of the fabulous Dr. Mel (Cabezalana) replete with yummy alpaca fiber from a strawberry blond named Madeline. I intend to roll around naked with Madeline when no one is looking! Mel is here to spend a couple of fun-filled weeks removing the gonads from the feral dog population in our region. Monkeys next Mel? Please?

I haven’t missed the fact that most of the comments on this blog come from my friends in various fiber arts communities. I do know that spinners, knitters, weavers and others who work with string, sticks, fabric and colour tend to be a chatty lot, nonetheless, I really love reading comments and I want to encourage them. This is going to be a blog about stuff like fur and spindles, string and what it can become in skilled hands here in the Himalayas. There’s so very very much I want to show you, but it’ll take a little time to show it all and tell you all about what I see around me up here.

Today’s blog was inspired by this Tibetan woman on the street this morning, doing what women in developing nations have done since the dawn of time - working (she sells odds and ends from a street stall) while keeping one eye on her child and the other on the drop spindle in her hands:

She is the skill sister of the women who spun these two huge balls of yarn for me over the summer:

That’s yak wool and the open sack behind the two half kilo balls is full of more yak down prepared for spinning. A friend from Spiti, in the high Himalayas at the borderlands, brought these down to me along with three other sacks full of hand-sheared, washed fleece - one white, one grey and one nearly black. These fleece are from the sheep that graze the valleys up in Lahoul and Spiti and they’re dual purpose sheep - they give both fleece and, eventually, after a fairly long life, meat for the stew pot. In places like this it’s a compromise; the meat is not particularly tender and the wool is not particularly soft, but both will do for survival.

The fleece have been machine carded into roving. In their spare time, spinners will turn it into a strong singles yarn.

Generally the spun yarn is used to weave these:

Traditional plaid shepherd’s blankets/shawls. What you can’t see in this picture is that the shawl is made from two strips of wool cloth woven on a backstrap loom and then stitched together to make a wider piece that serves the people who live outdoors as all kinds of warmth and shelter. The one above is a finer version than many, woven as a gift for me. The pattern is more intricate than in the other, more primative version I own, also a gift. That first one is much coarser, but it is also warmer and felted from use into an almost waterproof blanket. The fancy piece is edged in red and orange, also traditional, but the yarn is commercial. The older one has a simple band of madder-dyed colour at either end.
The first year we were here, I saw a few old shepherds and goatherds wandering down out of the hills with their flocks wrapped in these plaid shawls, barefoot, with tattered lunghis (cotton sarongs) around their waists. This gentleman came by on the road selling lengths of cotton cloth. I bought some of his yardage, but also tried to buy the shawl he was wearing, in hopes the money would entice him to part with a traditional garment I’d never actually seen for sale anywhere. He laughed at me. You don’t sell the warmest garment you own when you plan to spend the winter in the mountains. These are made by a family member for the one who needs it. I still haven’t seen any for sale which is one reason why I so treasure the ones I’ve been given as gifts. And they are warm in winter!

A last thing for this post and more another day. Around here, soap grows on trees:

These are “soap nuts” also called Ritha or, in the local dialect, ohkra. They are the seed pods of a very common tree and, in September they drop their golden nuts which are gathered, dried and have the hard pit removed. The casing that is left is almost 100% pure saponin. Around here, people pulverize them and use the powder for washing clothes, hair, bodies and, most especially, woolens. The soap is known to be particuarly good for cleaning animal fiber and has the added virtue of repelling moths and other insects. Plus it’s hypoallergenic. Apparently they are now being imported and sold in the west in natural food and housewares stores at a premium price. Here they are what the old women use who don’t want to spend the money on, or don’t see the point of using, commercial washing powders. Soap on trees that’s good for your sweaters and your hair. What will Mother Nature think of next?