All of this is thanks to READ (Rural Education and Development) Global, which is transforming the lives of villagers throughout Nepal.  READ is an independent 501(c)3 created in 1991 by the tour company Myths and Mountains. Although Myths and Mountains conducts tours to as many as 17 different countries, visiting the READ libraries of Nepal adds a whole new dimension to traditional sightseeing itineraries.

I early on recognized that the term “library” was a misnomer; “community resource center” is a much more accurate description. Yes, there are books – numbering from 900 in the smaller centers to 8000 and growing, in Nepalese, English, Tibetan  and Hindi, in the larger ones – but the list of services offered, which vary according to the specific needs of the village, include literacy classes, computer training, early childhood education and day care, women’s empowerment programs, micro-financing and credit services, health, nutrition and AIDS-awareness information and more.

But first, some background. Dr. Antonia (Toni) Neubauer, president of Myths and Mountains, first visited Nepal in 1984, and started her tour company four years later. During a trek to the Everest region that same year, knowing she wanted to give something back to the country she had come to love,  she asked her guide, Ang Domi Lama Sherpa,  “What is it your village needs most?” His reply: a library.

She started collecting money herself and then through Myths and Mountains. As a result, 8 porters carried 900 books over a 12,000 foot pass into the remote village of Junbesi, and READ’s first Community Library and Resource Center opened in Domi’s hometown in 1991. He moved to New York shortly thereafter and does not know that he has since become a national hero.

Early on, Toni learned of other well-meaning efforts in many countries which ultimately failed because they had been started and abandoned without becoming economically viable. A local headmaster told her, “Westerners build us clinics, build us schools and then leave and expect us to take care of them, but we are just poor farmers.” And she realized that although “we had the best of intentions, we were just creating liabilities for a village rather than funding an asset.” From the beginning she knew that if the library (read Community Resource Center) was not self-sustaining, it would not work; it had to be an economic asset as well as a social and educational one.

Thus, the village of Tukche has a furniture factory; Jhuwani operates an ambulance service; Jomsom rents out storefronts which sell crafts, produce and other necessities, and the Laxmi Library in Syangia built a radio station that galvanized the whole community and is now supporting a staff of 33 people enabling the library to pay off all its loans and become financially secure. The more successful the underlying financial enterprise, the more successful the community center.

And the centers’ impact on the villages is life-altering. Many are in remote areas in which children did not attend school, women could not read, and men could not support their families. Now, teachers and librarians trained by READ are providing education for young children throughout Nepal. Women are gathering together in village after village to not only learn to read but become economically self-sufficient while finding strength through numbers to resist the domestic violence that is often so pervasive among families in poverty. According to READ, the return rate on investment of micro-financing projects for women is 99%. And men and women are working together to create financially successful projects to support and sustain the libraries.

Everywhere we traveled, community leaders paid homage to Toni through some variation of the sentiments expressed by the president of the Jhuwani Library: “She removed a cloud of ignorance and illiteracy from our village, and replaced it with education, self-respect and prosperity.” And her response was always one of gratefulness to the villagers who, in creating their own dream, made her vision possible.

Because there is ongoing political turmoil in Nepal, all libraries and the different factions within the communities have to agree in writing to be Zones of Peace – non-political, non-religious, non-governmental. As of 2018, there are 66 centers from one end of the country to another, 128 sustaining enterprises supporting the centers, and 1,900,000 Nepalis have access to READ Library Centers. Moreover, libraries across the country have formed a coalition – the Nepal Community Library Association – and are now trading ideas and success stories and are themselves lobbying the government for even more support in building in rural areas.

According to Toni, this is a crucial development: “The idea of Nepalese having a sense of their own power in furthering the libraries is still in its infancy but has tremendous potential for future development.”

And her efforts have not gone unrecognized domestically. In 2006, READ Nepal received the Bill and Melissa Gates $1 million Access to Learning Award, which allowed READ to pursue similar efforts in India and Bhutan. And at the Clinton Global Initiative Annual Meeting held in September 2010, Bill Clinton announced READ’s commitment to empower 16,000 women and adolescent girls in rural Bhutan, India and Nepal during the next four years by building 20 women’s centers within new READ Library and Community Resource Centers.

Traveling from library to library, hearing story after story of how the centers have brought hope and prosperity beyond imagination, affected me in ways no monument, scenic byway or sightseeing tour ever could. The excitement, so emotionally heartfelt, among all the people there was infectious. I left each library filled with awe and respect for what all these people – young and old, men and women, READ staffers and community volunteers – have accomplished, and though admittedly misplaced, even a sense of personal pride on Toni’s behalf.

So yes, we visited temples, shrines and monasteries galore. We trekked the Annapurna Circuit for hours. We rode elephants in the Chitwan Jungle. And learned of the Buddhist and Hindu cultures. In that sense it was a tour like any other. But seeing the country through the eyes of READ Global was an enlightening and inspirational experience that no ordinary tour can equal.

For more information visit Myths and Mountains and READ Global

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Curious hippos surface about the boat, which moves quickly to safer waters. High among the thick trees along the river bluff, portions of several bungalows can be seen on the Zambian side, facing Zimbabwe National Park and sunset. The boat docks and under the trees steep steps lead to the River Club and to the style to which I’d like to become accustomed but probably won’t.

Ten thatched chalets, accommodating up to twenty guests, with balconies hanging over the river on stilts, their backside open to the river. A swank bedroom on the top level, where draped mosquito netting becomes an art form framing an orchid presentation on the bed. An old-fashioned tub and shower are on the lower split level, allowing a naked wave to passing fisherman angling for Tiger Fish. The front door opens toward a bird bath, a croquet lawn and an Edwardian home that is the hotel’s dining room and verandah, with a library and drawing room that looks transported from an English fox hunt and where enough post dinner port has flowed to float Boy’s lily pad.

This particular night, at his private home on the river bluff, secluded away from the hotel down a long nature walk path, the hotel’s proprietor is entertaining River Club guests, who sit on makeshift bleachers. The special occasion is a rugby championship, brought in by a satellite TV with mercurial reception, cursed by the owner as he fiddles with wires and paces like a panther, that heightened game suspense. Guests catch the owner’s enthusiasm as he redefines irrational exuberance every time England scores over Australia, and his hounds take up the howl. The River Club chef, an Australian, is as combative until England emerges victorious. He is needled by his boss so mercilessly that guests wonder if a food taster would be a good idea at that night’s dinner on the veranda, where everyone breaks bread together and spin stories of the day’s adventures.

Most guests tonight are from the UK, and welcome rugby’s flash of Empire. The game, and the relative comfort offered by the club, underscore the duality of African travel, the upper crust exclusivity stands in high contrast to the often elemental existence in much of Africa, which depends heavily on the tourism the high end travelers set the gold standard for.  They depend on the wildness of Africa for many of the adventures they seek, for the feel of being someplace truly different. A premium is given the timeless quality offered by areas and wildlife that much of Africa struggles to keep in their natural state.

The hotel often boards travelers acclimating to Africa after arriving in the region, for which most initially fly into South Africa, or decompressing from a package of safari trips elsewhere in the region, from Namibia’s Skeleton Coast to Botswana’s Okavango Delta, usually traveling by small plane.

But there are plenty of local attractions to choose from. Victoria Falls, known to the local Kololo people as Mosi-oa-Tunya, or the Smoke Which Thunders, is perhaps the best known destination in Africa.  Not far away, one enterprise offers day long elephant safaris, where travelers ride double with guides on elephants through a private preserve with ample wildlife, big cats excepted. There are rhino tours into the Livingstone Zoological Park, and other safari options, including in Zimbabwe across the river. The club’s pontoon boat provides sunrise and sunset river trips, or guests can take canoes. Chilling out at the hotel includes croquet, lawn tennis, fishing and birding.

Local artisans are among the best on the continent, and the outdoors crafts market at Victoria Falls has terrific offerings. Historical Livingstone, the Livingstone Museum and the railway museum offer interesting glimpses into the colonial past. The River Club can make arrangements to stone age sites in the region.

But one of the most thought provoking offerings is in a Zambian village which Peter Jones, creator and owner of the River Club, has committed to helping with its challenges. Jones, a former British commando officer in the 5th Airborne Brigade and a Falklands veteran, was schooled not just in rough and tumble special operations but in the importance of winning local hearts and minds. “Here in Africa,” says Jones, “we are always keen to see that the people see direct benefits to themselves as a result of our decision to invest in the continent.”

The River Club seems an odd focal point for community development of an impoverished village. The swank main building is the former home of “a delightful elderly Belgian lady” who wanted to start a lodge operation but didn’t have proper financing, and was Jones’s home for two years after he bought the place in 1995. The scene is worlds apart from the 3,000 inhabitants of Simonga Village where children play amid humble huts, nervous chickens, and parched plantings of millet, mealy and beans their families consume or barter.

But Jones treats his small empire as a command center in tackling the challenge of improving the quality of life at Simonga, mindful of entreaties from the local Environmental Impact Assessor to “Please make sure that you are able to keep it going. The people have sadly become used to others letting them down.” After four years of operations, Jones determined that his company was on a good enough footing to take on the responsibility.

The villagers are mostly of the royal tribe of Zambia, the Lozi, whose King, the Litunga, once ruled over the whole of what is now the Western province. A quarter of River Club staff are Simonga villagers Jones has trained.

The first objective, says Jones, was to create incentives for receiving visitors – a compensation formula based on the number of guests touring the village. We already pay a unit per guest for the removal of litter and other debris from the tour path. We’re now asking the villagers to devise a rubbish collection system for the entire village, offering to haul away debris in our vehicle. Compensation will increase with the completion of a palace for the chief to stay when meeting with his local subjects, and when the village trains its own guides to conduct tours.

“Assessing critical village needs,” says Jones, “we quickly realized the need to focus efforts on the children. Education is the most important feature of any society, for it ensures growth. The school project has gone well, and we have raised enough money to put all the kids through school for at least one year. We have been able to buy books and pencils for all the children. Recently, an American guest sent a load of educational books.” Jones is exploring small solar technologies that would provide light for extra teaching and homework time, and is laying plans to add classrooms.

One guest, who wishes anonymity, agreed to sponsor the top child in the school for four years of education at the town’s best boarding school, a commitment of US$8,000. An American who lives in Switzerland, he also donated three football strips and 10 footballs for the sports teams through his Lions group in Germany, says Jones. “Six foot seven inches tall, he sends his hand me-down clothes to the tallest man, who had been out of luck finding a suitable wardrobe in town!”

Jones hopes to leverage his efforts with similar considerations, large and small, from interested guests who recognize the village’s difficulties. One example he cites is “the Street family, from New York. They brought their son, Evan, and their three daughters. We organized a football match at the school for them to take part in. Afterwards, Evan handed over a donation of US$500 he had raised as part of his Bar Mitzvah celebration.  It was a terrific time, and a wonderful example for the village youngsters.” The money purchased books, pencils, locks for the cupboards, chalks, dusters, rulers and other essential items often taken for granted.

One connection between River Club patrons and Simonga villagers began with Jones’s discovery of a skinny young boy on a blanket in a hut. At the time he was unable to speak and suffered from the loss of parents – his father in prison for killing the boy’s mother – as well as from cerebral palsy. Taken to the River Club, Mapulanga was fed, given clothes, and placed upright in a chair while he sipped his first orange juice. A couple days later Keith Ruff, from Coralville, Iowa, and his daughter Kelly Armstrong, were staying at the lodge and, hearing of the boy, asked to be introduced. Keith also has cerebral palsy and is a counselor for others with the affliction. Keith allowed Mapulanga to spend time in his wheelchair.

The Adamson’s, a visiting English family that lives in Belgium, decided to purchase a wheel chair for Mapulanga. Jones was in touch with a local organization that supported handicapped children, and they knew of wheel chairs being make in the capital city of Lusaka, 300 miles away. Measurements were taken, six weeks later the chariot arrived, and Mapulanga’s first words were “Tweende” – “Let’s go” in the Lozi language – as a cousin pushed him to a shop to buy biscuits and sweets. Sadly, Mapulanga’s hope of attending the University of Zambia will not come true, as he recently passed away. But until his death he was thrilled to attend Simonga school. His life was greatly brightened by the dreams that before never seemed possible, inspiring his village as well.

A major challenge is the water supply, for which women have had to spend most of the day walking to the river and schlepping large jugs back, returning exhausted and short on time for family. Hippos are feared by fishermen, but the Zambezi crocodiles are notorious for dining out on people who linger at the river’s edge. Crocs take one or more Simonga villagers a year.

“We have dug three wells with another three in progress, aiming for everyone to have good, clean water within 500 meters of their homes within a year,” says Jones. “Hand pumps are being procured from a donor group, and we hope to resurrect the old borehole pump.” This is a critical step in allowing the village to grow more crops during an unusually long drought building what observers call “the perfect famine” striking the region.

Other factors mugging Zambia, the government of which logged significant social and economic progress during prosperous times, are an economic power dive, including fractured copper prices; difficult adjustments to the competition that accompanies globalization and the imports of cheap used clothing that have devastated Zambia’s textile industry; the demagogic destruction of agriculture infrastructure in the region’s former breadbasket, neighboring Zimbabwe, by its fallen angel dictator, Robert Mugabe.

Floating down a quiet portion of the often roaring Zambezi River, on the Zambian river banks across from Zimbabwe one can see new lodges and other enterprises popping up, established by farmers who fled the disastrous reign of Mugabe. His “land indigenisation” scheme aims to replace 4000 of Zimbabwe’s commercial farmers with untrained settlers – as well as, critics claim, Mugabe favorites such as the wife of the army chief and the Zimbabwe ambassador to the UN. In Zimbabwe, commercial farmers who farm now face incarceration, never mind the million and a half people they employed, many of them also seeking refuge in surrounding nations. The barometer of economic desperation is readily read in the faces of those selling Zimbabwe’s impressive crafts at Victoria Falls markets.

And then there is H.I.V. AIDS experts now predict that, absent significant developments, the disease may eventually claim half the adult population of Zambia. In a country of 10.3 million people, two million AIDS orphans are expected by the decade’s end. Already, 650,000 children have lost one or both parents. The millions at risk of malnutrition and starvation, in part from the agricultural disaster in Zimbabwe, regional droughts and incomprehensible policies refusing food aid such as genetically modified corn, will face increasing health vulnerability to AIDS, as well as to other diseases that devastate the region.

The traditional Zambian village reverence for raising children, which awarded special status and care to orphans, is being overwhelmed as grandparents wear out, says Jones. The spectre haunts him as he encourages a group of Swedish doctors, one a former guest, to explore setting up satellite clinics in nearby villages that share a visiting doctor who will help relieve local nurses. “Even the simple addition of toilets and related sanitation programs, with health education, would improve everyone’s life tremendously,” says Jones. “Environmental maintenance is quite a challenge, and the women are quicker to understand its importance.”

Along the gauntlets Jones must run are petty bureaucrats “who see investors as a money wells from which large amounts of cash can be extracted”, while providing very limited municipal services.

“For some efforts, the village has been slow on the uptake but now they see that we have done what we said we would,” says Jones. “Now we will promise to do something if they do something first. That incentive always holds promise, the belief that they can help themselves.”

Travelers seeking to personally connect with a facet of Africa should wander through Simonga, perhaps puzzling out approaches, micro and macro, to the daunting challenges faced by much of Africa.

Antics for the Frantic:

Victoria Falls offers a carnival of thrill rides across an exotic amusement park without borders. Pursuits offering high octane adrenaline include arguably the world’s premiere whitewater rafting, boogie boarding through rapids and waves, microlight flights, and bungee jumping off the 1905 bridge, an engineering marvel built for moving trains over the vast river gorge between Zambia and Zimbabwe, 111 metres over the river.

This writer took Jone’s dare to take on the legendary class five rapids of the Zambezi, on a day trip organized by Shearwater Adventure. The British Canoe Union ranks the river grade 5, “extremely difficult, long and violent rapids, steep gradients, big drops and pressure areas.” The distance between rapids varies from 100 metres to to 2 kms. The river let me know where I stood with it, my eight person raft was flipped.  Failing to reorganize ourselves out of chaos and climb the upended raft, we balled ourselves up and shot along through a stretch of rapids several blocks long, thankful for helmets and life jackets and the avoidance of rapids by hippos and large crocs. One rapid in the day trip, (trips range from half day to five days) “Commercial Suicide,” is unnavigable and must be portaged, though one impressive kayaker familiar with the river tackled it, disappearing and then popping up further down river.

The day trip offers approximately fifteen significant stretches of rapids, mostly class five. There is a good orientation and training session, and the guides are experienced. Waterproof cameras only, or kiss your camera good bye. The guide in my boat was excellent and amiable, it was sad to see his sinewy body with the lesions that are markers of AIDS.

Every bend in the river brings new views of the impressive gorge, which is 400 feet deep at the put-in point, and 750 feet, a taxing hike,  at the take out point. The river drops 400 feet over the 24 km in the one day trip, and can be as deep as 200 feet.

Not yet content to leave well enough alone, rushing to the Zimbabwe airport, I made a quick detour to a section of gorge with several thrill options backdropped by a bend of the Zambezi. The one that captivated me was the Zambezi Swing, 53 meters of unfettered free fall down a sheer cliff. When a line attached halfway across another line that stretches across a deep, wide canyon reaches its length, it whips the person from free fall into a long, fast pendulum swing across the boulders and tree tops swinging back and forth several times before the person is lowered to the floor, for a steep hike back to the rim.

The fellow who was going to demo it for me backed to the edge of the launch platform, stood there for a couple minutes, started trembling and stepped back, slipping out of his harness. “Too much time working on the edge,” explained the proprietor, a South Africa lawyer who sought a new challenge. Before I could think about it, he had me in the harness, my heels over the edge, my hands tightly around the line so it didn’t jerk me into the cast of “The Sopranos,” Vienna Boys Choir version. Tethered to a tree, he holds my arm, slowly leans me backwards, gives a Cheshire Cat grin and says “Three. Two. One…Bye!”

Postscript: This offering is part of an occasional series of favorite travels, pursuits and places fetched from the Wayback Machine, of experiences I’d like to return to for another perspective. Hence, some aspects might be a bit disjointed from the present as time moves along. But enough remains accurate to provide a sense of place to those interested in exploring the environs. Apologies for the photos not quite hitting the mark. They came from a primitive drugstore scan of snaps taken from somewhat damp film after the camera, despite being tightly wrapped in plastic, was fire-hosed when a raft was flipped end over end in the middle of a three block long stretch of rapids. Next time, a waterproof camera only. For further information, visit The River Club.

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I joined Peace Corps knowing very little of what life or work would be like. Unlike some of my volunteer friends, I hadn’t dreamt of Peace Corps since I was little, and it was never part of some 10 year professional plan.

So what drew me to Peace Corps? Simply put, I wanted to live cross-culturally abroad and work in community development.  As expected, integrating into another culture and working hand in hand with local people has been complex, beautiful, challenging, confusing, and rewarding all at the same time.

At the midpoint of my service, I know I’ve grown significantly over the past twelve months in site, and the following reflection is my attempt to communicate a few of these changes as they relate to my process of cultural integration and community work.

Cultural Integration

First off, I have been reflecting on my process of cultural integration in the community. Arriving in site a year ago, I was very concerned about acting or speaking in a way that would be perceived as culturally inappropriate. I also wondered how or if I’d ever know when I was “making a mistake” in a culture of primarily indirect communication. Slowly but surely, I began fine-tuning skills like careful observation and copying social behaviors, yet these helpful strategies were not ultimately the key to cultural discovery and integration.

Instead, I’ve found that the heart of cultural integration is being yourself and humbly opening yourself up to others and their lives. To do so, you must become secure in yourself and familiar with failure.

One day you say the wrong word at the wrong time to everyone’s amusement or horror. The next you sit awkwardly with an elderly person whose accent you truly can’t understand. And sometimes you unknowingly misunderstand people’s actions or intentions and plans fall through.

The process is difficult, and I’ve made a lot of “mistakes.” Yet I’ve learned that they are not really mistakes in the true sense of the word, but only part of the process. I’ve learned to laugh at myself, admit my faults to others, be content with discomfort, and ask curious questions. Many new discoveries have sprouted and relationships grown from the desert ground of awkward situations, cultural misunderstandings, and difficult conversations.

Through it all, living cross-culturally sets you on a path of self-discovery. This journey of cultural integration has been successful in bringing out my best and worst. Being myself in a new cultural context has uncovered many personal weaknesses and insecurities — my impatience, possessiveness, fear of failure or embarrassment, need for concrete results, and tendency to be a people-pleaser.

Despite being frustrating or confusing, I’ve found immense beauty and value in opening myself up to others and allowing their diverse lifestyles and views to impact my own. The journey of personal change is slow, but thankfully it’s lifelong.

So how have I actually changed? It’s difficult to discern the exact way living immersed in Peruvian culture has been shaping me. On one hand, I’m still inside the metaphorical “fish bowl” and am oblivious to many of the ways I’ve instinctively adapted. On the other hand, I catch myself acting or speaking in new ways that surprise me.

I instinctually offer others food or drinks, greet people I don’t know, tell white lies about my plans, and say provecho while others are eating. I’ve now become accustomed to being around livestock, washing my clothes by hand, throwing toilet paper in the trash, treating my water, eating guinea pig, and thinking in Spanish.

In conclusion, looking back on my service, I’m confident that the moments spent with my host families and community members will be far more valuable to me than any work I’ll be able to accomplish. These opportunities for genuine human connection and sharing will always be invaluable for me.

Community Development

I joined Peace Corps largely in part because I wanted to be on the front lines of grass-roots community development, which sounds more glamorous than it is. Turns out, it’s a slow, arduous process of building relationships, making institutional connections, and encouraging and training others to assume a larger role in their community.

Many volunteers, myself included, feel a pull towards accelerating this slow process, looking for projects with visible, concrete results. At the end of the day, we need to admit that on some deep level we all yearn for recognition. We love to put our name on something and say, “I did that.” However, sustainable development is slow, subtle, and often invisible. Good community development is really people development — in Peace Corps language “capacity building.”

Therefore, the main challenge is this: people are complex. As humans, we are not only capable of the best — beauty, art, progress, and connection — but also the worst — violence, hatred, deceit, and indifference. We are habited beings with complex histories and worldviews. We love criticism; we’re prone to denial. We are motivated to help our communities; we are engulfed in our own lives and preoccupations.

Given the intricate nature of persons, a community and its problems must be equally complex if not more so. If the goal is behavior and perspective changes — that people become active agents of change in their own lives and community — change will be neither easy nor straightforward. Every few steps forward is usually accompanied by a few steps backward.

In the small community where I live, finding motivated local counterparts is one of our primary difficulties. All but one teacher commute from larger communities and the majority will only stay for 1-2 years due to the education system. Therefore, because of brevity and location, many teachers are not directly involved or invested in the community where they work. After-school programs or weekend activities are a challenge.

Because of this difficulty, I’ve largely been confined to working in the classroom, supporting the teachers of tutoría, an obligatory, weekly life-skills class. This presents its own challenge of working within a 45 minute time-frame and coordinating with teachers whose priorities often lie in other courses.

For sustainability and liability reasons, I try to never teach alone but instead support and coordinate with the teachers to co-plan and co-teach the sessions. After a year of practice, our co-facilitation skills are improving but it’s a tricky balance that sometimes leads to me or the teacher taking on more of the responsibility.

Despite these challenges, I have much to be thankful for. The community, both families and institutions, has trusted and welcomed me. I coordinate weekly with the local government, health post, and schools, and they are open to working together.

We live by a motto here: poco a poco (little by little). Together, we’re slowly making progress, building relationships and making an impact.

Of course, there are good days and hard days. One day you and a teacher co-facilitate a dynamic class on machismo (sexism), and the next you’re tossed into a classroom to make something up on the spot. You watch a project you’ve been planning for months fall apart, yet in the same week a group of students surprise you with their own creative idea.

A PC staff member recently emailed us with three key concepts to embody in our work: permanence, persistence, and perseverance. I’ve found in Peace Corps, and in life for that matter, that consistency is often what matters most — being faithful in service and love to the place you’re at and the people you’re with.

One day results will come, even if they’re not as expected. After all, it’s through our journey together that we are truly changed. So here’s to another year of the beautiful struggle and the fruit it will bring!

****Disclaimer: “The content of this website is mine alone and does not necessarily reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or the Peruvian Government.”

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