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As military trucks roll by and a man at the barber shop next door gets the roughest head massage i've ever seen, Emma and I wait as the iodine stakes it's claim in our fresh sugar cane juice that a man on the street squeezed before our eyes. We're still being wary of the water. Today was incredible! but first yesterday. We flew into to Biratnagar on an airplane the size of a station wagon from an airport where men were inspected in one curtain by a man and women in another by a woman. I was asked to open my little samsonite clown box. At her confusion by the contents, I explained that I was a clown and squeaked my pink bike horn. She jumped and flew back in her seat and smacked my shoulder, laughing. She was a sister, not a security guard. One more boys frisking boys and girls getting rubbed by girls and we were on the pea sized plane. The cockpit was open. The stewardess walked by with a tray of cotton and candy. The clowns watched the locals before putting the cotton in their mouth and the candy in their pocket for later. Ah, it was for the ears! The Biratnagar airport was full of insects and neon lights. The holes called toilets FULL of shit upon which we emptied our bladders before the 2 hour car ride to Damak. The weather was very sticky, reminding us we were not in Kansas any more and even the comforts of Kathmandu were far, far away. A UN van was our coach. We set down a long, dark, straight road over bridges, through jungles. The driver slowed down once for a meter long yellow snake lying perhaps dead in the road. He told us this road was unused due to the Maoist inhabitants of these thick forests. We arrived to the friendliest man in the world at the Shashi guesthouse in Damak. it was very clean. We were two to a room except for Nalle who slept alone. In the morning, we all woke to the locals hacking up the stuff that Nepalese air is home to. That always began at about 4 am. Then, absurdly enough, I heard "country road, take me home to West Virginia..." playing in the barber shop. We rehearsed on the roof to get Emma up to speed on our rehearsings in Kathmandu. We went to the UN office a couple of houses up from ours and were greeted by barbed wire and a peeking guard, who quickly opened the gates upon seeing our motley bunch. He raised his hand to his forehead for each of us clowns. We were escorted to a meeting room and offered, of course, tea. There, they went over a map and the locations of the 6 camps that we were scheduled to work in. They pointed out where the recent uprisings had been but we were not nervous. They told us to: Stick together Use common sense Don't alienate yourself, introduce yourself Things may look calm, but there could be something under the surface Oooooohhhhh.....and off we went.That day we performed for about 4000-8000 people. We didn't have time to count.This was Beldangi I camp. We set up at the Green Valley Academy school compound, which was a HUGE field with a grassy square mound that rose about 4 feet from the rest. That was our fine stage. The Swedes set up a back drop which became some what of a joke trying to keep people in front of it. It was always circled. Some of their acts were dependent on a proscenium situation and the young performers struggled without the skills to adjust spontaneously without orders. Oh well. THe refugees were just as entertained watching their yellow butts behind the scrim as the show in front. We were strange and weird..period. This was a camp of 18,000. It was beautiful. It was not what the word "camp" brings to my mind after seeing the ROma camps in Macedonia. These were bamboo huts with adobe bases. Each house grews marigolds and greens in a little garden. Burgundy amaranth like flowers lined the fences and bamboo was rampant. Green piles of it drying in the sun for house repairs. Rice fields and cloth drapen women working them. It was as if colorful materials had grown legs and walked without a body beneath. People passed by carrying pots and hay and grass on their heads. Huge amounts. AMounts that we would get winded tying to the roof a car. Cows taking baths in the streams, dogs painted with pigment, due to the passing festival of Tihar where they honor dogs, crows and cows by coloring them. We saw happy dogs in Kathmandu prancing about with garlands of marigolds draped around their mangy necks. Of course, these people are in a deeper sadness than ever was revealed when we arrived. Our arrival always triggered jumpers and fooleries, games and tricks. We brought laughter and the reciprocal effect was huge. Clowns without borders was clear to me at that moment. A day of joy after 12 years of waiting will linger. We were on from the moment we drove up. Kids running alongside the van and little brown eyes...and big ones....staring at us and wanting to touch until the moment that van was out of sight again. The show went very well. People were clutching the tops of trees to see that much better. Security were young and old men with bamboo sticks whacking the little eagers that wanted to sit just a teeny weeny bit closer. That teeny weenying got us in alot of trouble at Beldangi II and extension, which is a camp of 35,000, where 2 camps are combined. There, a soccer field sized circle of people awaited what these colorful things would do. Suddenly, one little girl ran across the field, triggering a ripple effect of everyone wanting to be just a little closer. Within 30 seconds, we were sandwiched between17,000 desperate refugees. It took a man with a loudspeaker, lots of bamboo stick guys and 30 minutes to form that beautiful circle again. In the meanwhile, we sat in the middle on nalles trunk looking as uninteresting as we possibly could wearing teeth and noses and colors and oozing tricks. Not so easy to be invisible. PLAY BIG!!! It felt so wonderful to take a punch all the way around that circle. Stephen and I discovered our clown gibberish that show to a great response. Four more versions of this joyous chaos followed in a very tight schedule, leaving us all exhausted but full. The Tibetan camp shows in Pokhara were to fewer people where butts were NOT funny. Oops! But, they forgave us quickly. The school shows we did were fun, but didn't feel as necessary. But, kids is kids and should be kids and that's what we were able to give. |
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