Chumey

Our bus arrived in Chumey yesterday. We stopped briefly to visit the school where I’ll be teaching and to check out the accommodation arrangement, and then we drove on to the Dzongkhag (district) capital, Jakar, to stay at the River Lodge for the evening. During dinner, reality accosted me; morning would mean I’d be driven back to Chumey and left on my own. I went to bed early and slept fitfully. Each time I awoke I battled with fear. Chumey, like many of the small villages we passed through in the last three days, is wholly unlike Thimphu, the capital. For this westerner—and I have done very little travelling—a visit to such small towns takes me back in time. Do I contain the necessary mettle to live in these conditions?

In the morning, Nima (one of the lovely drivers for BCF) and Ann and I made a quick visit to the Jakar market to purchase some last minute provisions and then headed back to Chumey. The morning was sunny in contrast to the previous day and, thankfully, everything seemed a little better. The room in the guest house where I will be staying had a brighter appearance; the handpainted details in my room are cheerful and bright and the sun pours in through windows facing east and south. The owner, Lhamola (whom I now call “Appa,” or father), had set up my kitchen and brought extra furniture into my room—a couple of comfy chairs and a desk. There are geisers (water heaters) in the bathroom and kitchen, and an electric radiant heater in the main room—both are welcome and useful, especially when the electricity in Bumthang is actually working! But there were tears in my eyes as I said good-bye to my BCF cohorts. The Bhutan vacation is over and the transition to the reality of why I am in Bhutan is far more difficult than I ever imagined it would be.

Appa does not speak English. His two young sons, Jigme and Kuenga, attend Chumey MS School in grades 7 and 9. Although both are shy and soft-spoken, their English proficiency is more than sufficient for communication. But it is Pema, the eldest daughter who returned home two years ago after the sudden death of mother and eldest brother, who has been my lifeline. She cooks for me and answers my countless questions. Pema gives me the courage to continue; she assures me that I am part of the family and that she’ll look after everything from cooking and laundry to arranging for a phone line and internet to be brought into the home.