In any case, I guess I now have a much better appreciation of what our Pakistani friends mean when they qualify their affirmations with “Inshahallah” (or, God willing).
DUTCH TREAT
Well, as already stated, it’s a pleasure to return home, no matter that the beastly political-security problem besetting our beloved land for long still lingers. While I do enjoy travelling within and outside Nepal from time to time – who doesn’t? – It’s always gratifying to return home, to family and friends and to familiar surroundings, even though the latter may not be the most salubrious.
To cut a long story short, as the cliché goes, I was away for a while, this time in northern Europe, or Holland to be precise. To be even more specific the reason for my absence from this space was an invitation by the University of Leiden in the Netherlands to join an international group of scholars/journalists to jawbone on the highbrow theme of Maoist Insurgencies.
In fact, it was the University’s International Institute for Asian Studies (IIAS) that issued the invite and thus provided a rare chance for this scribe to say his piece regarding our very own Maoist insurgency, now ten years old. Even more importantly, it provided the opportunity to listen to a gaggle of egg-heads, male and female, expound on assorted insurrections of the Maoist stripe, be it in other parts of Asia or in Latin America.
Inevitably, it led to some very stimulating or edifying discussions, including those conducted in the cozy if noisy ambience of lively bars and the lunch/dinner-time chatter of Leiden’s delightful restaurants, distinctly European in feel and décor. Yours truly was truly impressed by the amount and diversity of cheeses consumed with each meal, as also in the wide variety of bread choices with meals.
LEIDEN
Though small, Leiden one found was packed with Indonesian, Surinamese and, of course, Chinese restaurants although one discovered that it was virtually impossible to have a meal in a restaurant before 12:30 PM or 1PM. I presumed that had to do with the fact that once they opened they stayed that way late into the night.
Incidentally, listening to the guttural sounds of the Dutch language, somewhat akin to German, I could well understand the schoolboy expression: “it’s double Dutch to me”. Do they say something similar about the English language in Holland, I wonder?
Though one didn’t have time to enjoy the world famous museums and art galleries of Amsterdam, I purchased a copy of a Dutch painting at Schiphol airport’s Rijk Museum gift-shop as a poor substitute. Incidentally, with so much going on there at that great international airport it was no problem at all spending time awaiting the call for boarding one’s flight.
Leiden, some 40 kms away from the great metropolis of Amsterdam (pronounced, I discovered, something like: Ammsturdum) was a visual treat: quaint and Old World-ish (remember Donald Rumsfeld’s ‘Old Europe’ characterisation?) with typically small-sized houses facing miles of canals and bridges, not to mention the odd windmill, meandering cobbled streets, ancient churches, a galaxy of hoary institutes of higher learning, and, of course, an unending stream of bicyclists dashing around helter skelter A sort of Dutch Heidelburg, I suppose.
Though the weather was expectedly wretched – cold, wet, and gusty with only occasional bursts of weak sunshine – it didn’t seem to dampen our spirits at all. I for one found it quiet an experience having a tiny room on the fourth floor of a house with a sloping roof, rafters and all. Considering that our “hotel” was composed of four tiny adjacent houses, one connected with the other, it was rather quite jolly. I somehow felt like a student, all over again, this time in the stimulating environment of Holland’s most famous University town, among the oldest in Europe, one was informed.
So, “dhanyabaad”, Satya Shrestha-Schipper and “dankey” Marloes Rozing for all that.
IISH
Incidentally, our talk-a-thon was divided into two segments, one day in Amsterdam and two in Leiden. The Nepal session kicked off the Workshop. The venue was the world famous International Institute of Social History (IISH) or Internationaal Institut Voor Sociale Geshiedents in Dutch which houses what is perhaps the largest collection of artifacts/mementos of social history.
The collection of which we were given a guided tour includes: pamphlets, books, journals, newspapers, photos, negatives, posters, banners, flags, paintings, audio recordings, letters, manuscripts, documents, statistics, databases and internet newsgroups. As a brochure explains, the Institute arose as a private initiative and has, over the years, become dedicated to preserving social historical material and ensuring its accessibility. It has been successful since its establishment in 1935. Before the outbreak of World War II, the Institute staff rescued numerous endangered collections from Nazi Germany, Austria and Spain and transported them to safety in the neutral Netherlands.
Among the archives are houses such manuscript legacies of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engles. After the war, IISH rescue operations continued and led major collections to be brought to safety from Eastern Europe, Turkey, the Middle East and Asia. Thus the vast depositories are crammed with ‘fuel for historians.’ It library matches that of medium-sized universities and the archives cover about ten kilometers. It accommodates over two million photographs, photo negatives and posters.
And so on. Truly staggering. Incidentally, seeing Karl Marx’s scrawl of a letter on a small scrap of paper, one was of course impressed; yet, I couldn’t get over the thought: there must have been a terrible shortage of paper then!
ENCOUNTERS
It was a coincidence but noteworthy all the same that a compatriot, also a participant at the said workshop, and I one afternoon came across two Nepalese youth hurrying through the cobbled streets, in a light drizzle, with one of them singing a Nepali tune.
When unexpectedly accosted by us they confessed that they were in Leiden as economic migrants having, like most others of their kind, traveled as refugees. One said he earned about Euro 2000/month though I don’t recall asking him how much of that he saved. Most Nepalese in Holland, they said, had applied for such a status either on grounds that they were victims of Maoist terror or State repression – they admitted this smilingly, confirming at least to my mind that probably neither was the case.
Anyway, in the small town of Leiden there are about 30 or so Nepalese nationals and around 200-300 in Holland. At our workshop we met a Nepali student, who had been in Holland for around three months. Fortunately, most of the instruction at “international” institutions of higher learning, one was told, was conducted in the English language.
TRANSITING THE GULF
As my route to Amsterdam and back took me through Abu Dhabi, the aircraft one traveled in was crammed to the gills with “manpower” types either going to their jobs or returning from them. Seeing how they behaved on the aircraft and on the ground I couldn’t but wonder why the various “manpower” agencies that make tons of money don’t even bother to instruct them on the very basics of air-travel etiquette and dress.
It was particularly painful to see them in a five star hotel setting, with dirty clothes and bathroom slippers, attracting unfriendly stares from all and sundry. This unsettling experience had to be borne since on the return journey from Abu Dhabi my plane could not fly that day due to “technical problems”. Consequently, all passengers were finally taken to a five-star hotel where these Gulf types were housed four to a room.
The airlines and the hotel wallahs seem to consider all Nepalese in that one category. I had to give them a piece of my mind reminding them, among other things, that I was a journalist before the hotel officials condescended to provide me with a separate room. By the time my lecture was through, it ensured not only a room but in fact a lovely Hilton suite! I was, of course, too tired to enjoy either its luxury or the magnificent view that it offered. That’s how I missed my column last week. It will not happen next week, Inshahallah!
