I meet the community and they are lovely. They heard I was coming and prepared a bed for me and a home-cooked meal. Afterwards, I spoke with them to explore ways to step out of their miserable misfortune. Never having been out of their small village in the middle of nowhere, it is hard for them to imagine something better. They appear to be at a standstill when asked where they are going and what they can do to get there. Without knowledge or education, how can they make something better for themselves? Where do they even begin? I suppose you start at the very beginning. It’s a very good place to start, you know!
I draw a line in the dirt with a stick. “You are here,” I tell the group as I point to the beginning of the line. “Where are you going?”
Blank stares is their answer.
“Where do you want to go?” I ask. Again blankness is their answer. Without the privilege of opportunity the mind is small, narrow and unimaginative. Without the luxury of choice, the mind is dull, inactive and uncreative. Without opportunity and choice, there is little room to create. And does one create when the land is in lack, when the hands are tied and the rains are on strike?
I draw an ‘X’ at the end of the line. “Where are you going?” I repeat myself, this time pointing at the ‘X’. “In other words, what do you want?”
Again the group answers with heavy hearts and starring eyes.
“If you had money, what would you do with it?” I ask.
The people perk up. They think I am going to give them money. After all, humanitarian organizations typically come to Nepal and give money and provisions like metal sheeting, bags of rice, plastic covers and a pot or two or three.
“How can you make money?” I ask. “What is blocking you from money?”
They return to their stares, but remain engaged, nonetheless.
“What can you do to earn money?” I ask them with more conviction, hoping to keep them engaged.
A flurry of ideas comes forth like a natural water spring.
“Goats! Goats give meat. Cows! Cows give milk. Vegetables! Vegetables sell at the market,” they reply in unison. “Chickens! Chickens give eggs and meat,” they eagerly add to their bucket list. They never knew they could even have a bucket list. But if they are allowed to dream the sky’s the limit, no?
“From all your choices, which one is the one that gets you most excited?” I inquire.
“Goats!” they exclaim.
“So, why not start breeding goats?” At the end of my line in the dirt, I replace my ‘X’ with a primitive stick figure of a goat. There is initially great excitement, but then there is the typical deflation you see in poor people’s lives when reality and poverty meet and shake familiar hands, like best friends. But I’m going to make this time is different. I come from the land of milk and money where ideas birth and flourish with a bit of this and a bit of that. Add a little creative elbow grease into the equation along with some friends to lend a helping hand and voila, you move mountains. I take my invisible air pump out and inflate these deflated souls again and add some pumping power.
“Why not start breeding goats?” I ask again. I take my sturdy stick and place it in the middle of the line this time. Not at the beginning and not at the end, but right in the middle, where the goat breeding should be.
“What is stopping you? What is blocking you from going to your goat project?” I ask, not really giving any block a chance to succeed no matter how big it is.
Again they perk up. “Money!” they say. “Money, we have no money,” they chime like an old church organ played by a mouse running across its keys.
“Borrow it from the bank,” I provocatively counter them, knowing the bank will never extend them credit.
“The bank won’t lend us money!” they say with a certainty I haven’t seen before in their previous stares and silence.
“Hmmm. What to do?” I ask them seriously. No one says a word. They look at the sturdy stick on the ground placed between them and their ‘X’–a goat project. The idea of breeding goats visited them before, in the past, when they dared to dream, but the thought of it was quickly put aside because of the unlikeliness of it ever being. They believed it wasn’t part of their lot in life.
“Well, how much money do you have?” I ask. “If you and you and you and you and you and…. Pool your money, how much would you have?”
Their pockets were pretty empty, but the sum total of their life savings collectively amounted to about two hundred dollars.
“That’s wonderful, two hundred dollars! Can you all work together?” I ask.
“Yes, we are friends and neighbors,” they affirm.
“Do you trust each other and are you all hard-working?”
“Yes!” they say assuredly.
“So, what’s the problem?”
They once again stare at me with blankness.
“Two hundred dollars is not enough to start a goat project,” they chirp like little birds daring to find his or her voice.
They are once again deflated. So, I take out my trusty air pump and again give them some air.
“Well, I can’t give you money, but I can lend you money to build your dream–your goat rearing project.” They can’t believe their ears, but they can’t deny their eyes. They see I am serious, but don’t believe I am serious.
“For real!” I say with a little smile and a lot of love. They smile hoping it is true.
Together we talk about the particulars of the loan and my expectations for payback. To the men present, I ask them to go home and consult with their wives. If their wives are in agreement, then we will go ahead with our plan. How strange it must sound to Nepalese men to ask for their wives opinions and seek their agreement. This isn’t the way here, but slowly, slowly with some prodding and planting, a new harvest will come to this part of the globe.
Goat rearing can transform and elevate this community. Besides becoming meat, goats can become uniforms and school fees for girls to go to school. Goats can transition girls from potatoes, pots and pans to higher education, digital technology and diplomas, too. Goats can also
As all bank loans come with stipulations, so do micro-loans. In Nepal, people typically tie their animals to ground posts with short cords that give them one foot essentially to stand in place. This length isn’t long enough even to lie down.
“Animals deserve the right to roam and be happy. Anything less is animal abuse and I cannot support any initiative that disrespects our friends in the animal kingdom,” I strongly insist. “You can have a micro-loan if you promise to build proper spacious goat houses so the goats move about freely.” They all agree.
When I left the community, I was decorated with a red bindi for strength and connection. I was also garlanded with a scarf traditionally given to respected people and a lei that the women in the community made for me. I was very happy and touched by their kindness.
