One morning

or how my day began in Jharkot




 


Waking up

I blink. Pull the cover up over my head and disappear underneath again. It makes no sense. Everything around me looks pretty much the way I dreamed it would.

My view from the window

I don't just mean the four wooden walls that surround my bed, the chair in the corner, next to the little table with the little doily, where I've been putting my things for the last two weeks. My arm waves through the air and gently pulls aside the curtain. I peek out cautiously to find out if the sun is shining again today. The white glacier peaks shine beyond the undulating hills.

For breakfast I make my carefully considered choice of Swiss rösti. The best Swiss rösti, or hash browns, I've ever eaten - and they're here in Nepal! While I wait, I paint in the book in which I write down the orders for Dolka.
At 8am I sit up on the terrace and let the first rays of sun touch my face. Next to me on the table is the camera, so I can finally get a photo of the goats that are driven past at the same time every day. In spite of the merry tinkling of their bells that can be heard on their approach, I haven't yet managed to take a photo of them at the right moment - only from above, or behind.

Greetings
Self study is on the timetable twice a day Today I'm not waiting for the goats, I go straight over to the monastery. The courtyard is empty. Passing the Prayer Room I see the children inside studying: self study time. They read aloud from their books, like a prayer. "My dog's name is Tom. He likes to swim in lakes. Tom does not like rain".
Lhakpa notices me as I look furtively through the window and waves at me enthusiastically, as if she'd never seen anyone like me before. Her eyes light up. I put my finger to my lips, wink at her conspiratorially and leave.
In the kitchen Tshering Dolkar, the Tibetan teacher, is cooking on a small electric stove. The cook is ill. As she wishes me a good morning, she presses a cup of tea into my hand, just like every day.

Questions

I sit in front of the gompa and watch the dog on the roof. I once asked Sonam, my oldest pupil, how the dog gets down from the roof and he just shrugged his shoulders.

Tshering Dolkar on the steps in front of the office
I later found out that he's up there so that he can't run away. It seems completely logical to the children. I don't quite understand it. But actually I don't want to know exactly why he's up there.

In my English lesson
After school I like to sit on the roof and mull things over. There are a number of things here that are not clear to me and some queries then sort themselves out.

I often find it very difficult to talk to the children about certain things. Things that are perfectly clear to them and they often don't understand my question. On the other hand they love to laugh and ask me questions that make me smile. As far as they're concerned, my hair is yellow. They're not familiar with blonde.

Johanna Schlager


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