It’s a quarter past five in the morning when the Hindu chanting echoes from the Manakamana Temple up the hill, music seeping through the open front door of the base house into my bedroom, jolting me awake. I turn over in my creaky top bunk, maneuvering down the shaky ladder, trying not to get caught in the mosquito net on my way down in the darkness. I walk, half-asleep, to the drop toilet down the bamboo staircase before the line gets too long and make myself a hot cup of jasmine tea to sip in silence before the other volunteers wake. At ‘lights-on’ at 6am, the kitchen is a madhouse. 7am, we’re out the door, purple t-shirts and boots tied tight, yellow hardhats under one arm.
When we arrive at the work site, we break into teams and brace ourselves for back-breaking work that lasts until 4pm (except for a one-hour break for dal bhat). We race each other down the dirt road back to base, waving ‘namaste’ at the five families who live along the way, stopping to pat their newborn baby goats, or to snack on aloo chop and milk tea, squeezed fresh from the cow's udder. We line up for cold bucket showers before our mandatory 6pm meeting, eat dal bhat dinner at the Stable next to base, rush back through the gates for 8pm curfew, and make sure our teeth are brushed before ‘lights-out’ at 9pm. The next day is the same, and the day after that.
When we arrive at the work site, we break into teams and brace ourselves for back-breaking work that lasts until 4pm (except for a one-hour break for dal bhat). We race each other down the dirt road back to base, waving ‘namaste’ at the five families who live along the way, stopping to pat their newborn baby goats, or to snack on aloo chop and milk tea, squeezed fresh from the cow's udder. We line up for cold bucket showers before our mandatory 6pm meeting, eat dal bhat dinner at the Stable next to base, rush back through the gates for 8pm curfew, and make sure our teeth are brushed before ‘lights-out’ at 9pm. The next day is the same, and the day after that.
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| Our neighbors harvesting rice for dal bhat |
When I left my job in August, I wanted to explore more of the world, but the highlight of my trip was to volunteer for several weeks in Nepal. I signed up for three weeks with All Hands and Hearts to help with earthquake disaster relief in the Makwanpur district, joining a project whose goal is to rebuild the Manakamana Basic School that was destroyed in the 2015 earthquake. After months of prep and fundraising, I still had no idea what I had gotten myself into.
We worked 6 days a week, Sunday to Friday, and I’m not exaggerating when I say the work was back-breaking. I arrived at the very start of the project, which meant not just diving into building a school, but preparing the work site and building the base for the volunteers to live. Clearing rubble, moving bricks and boulders, digging trenches for the foundation of the school, and if we were lucky to be on ‘base duty’: burning the shit-soaked toilet paper from the toilet bins and clearing rice terraces for volunteers to set up their tents.
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| Day 1 volunteers |
Despite the hard work, the experience was wonderful. Once my muscles recovered and got used to the hard manual labor, I had a blast showing up to work every morning and learning new things - how to hand mix cement like a beast, lay bricks, build bamboo benches and huts made of sheet metal. I got stronger. And I also saw some mad progress on the foundation of the school in the short time I was there.
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| Two foundations laid, one month into project |
But like every other part of my trip, the people are what made these last few weeks magical. After all, when you’re spending every waking and unwaking second together, you become family really quickly.
It takes a very special type of person to leave their life behind and step into a remote village at the top of a mountain in Nepal to do hard, unpaid work for months at a time. It was the first time on this trip that I was surrounded by people who never asked the question of “what do you do?” because each person’s story was much more complex than that. Most of us had left jobs, family, friends - some for a few months, some indefinitely - and it was more important to get to know each other’s passions rather than how we made the money - sitting in an office or standing behind a bar - to get us to this point. It was comforting to be around people who were also seeking something bigger in this sometimes-fucked-up world.
I never once felt alone. I fell into a group of incredible people who had also been affected by loss, fear, death, divorce, addiction, depression. We had all struggled with things in our real lives, we were all running away or toward something, and we were all looking for something within ourselves and within each other.
My favorite moments were the ones spent with this family I found in the mountains of Manakamana. Sipping tea in the morning silence, dancing around a pile of half-mixed cement, learning Nepali words over dal bhat dinner, giggling under the full moon, celebrating Diwali on a night bus to Kathmandu. I fell so deeply in love with this group of people, and with this project, I extended my stay, spending five weeks on project.
It takes a very special type of person to leave their life behind and step into a remote village at the top of a mountain in Nepal to do hard, unpaid work for months at a time. It was the first time on this trip that I was surrounded by people who never asked the question of “what do you do?” because each person’s story was much more complex than that. Most of us had left jobs, family, friends - some for a few months, some indefinitely - and it was more important to get to know each other’s passions rather than how we made the money - sitting in an office or standing behind a bar - to get us to this point. It was comforting to be around people who were also seeking something bigger in this sometimes-fucked-up world.
I never once felt alone. I fell into a group of incredible people who had also been affected by loss, fear, death, divorce, addiction, depression. We had all struggled with things in our real lives, we were all running away or toward something, and we were all looking for something within ourselves and within each other.
My favorite moments were the ones spent with this family I found in the mountains of Manakamana. Sipping tea in the morning silence, dancing around a pile of half-mixed cement, learning Nepali words over dal bhat dinner, giggling under the full moon, celebrating Diwali on a night bus to Kathmandu. I fell so deeply in love with this group of people, and with this project, I extended my stay, spending five weeks on project.
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| Stable Gang |
One of these wonderful souls shared with me one night that all he wanted in his life was to make other people smile, and I wonder, why do we strive for more than that? Why do we kill ourselves at jobs that bring us no joy, to make money to buy things we don’t need, and all the while we are consumed with worry. We get lost in our heads, we isolate ourselves, when what we should really be doing is connecting with others, living simply, making others smile and laugh because that makes us feel good, too. That matters.
When I left for this trip, I was in search of something. But I will admit, even I didn’t know what that was until now. I’ve discovered that I may have a unique soul that was put on this earth to play with other unique souls. To make them feel heard, to make them laugh, to make them think, to bring beauty and art to life through whatever work I choose.
What I am discovering, too, is that life doesn’t have to be so complicated. Here we were, in the middle of the mountains, cut off from the rest of the world, no wifi, no mattresses, no toilets or showers, no mirrors. We ate, slept, shit, and showered side by side. And we were happy because we had each other and we were doing something good. That’s it.
When I left for this trip, I was in search of something. But I will admit, even I didn’t know what that was until now. I’ve discovered that I may have a unique soul that was put on this earth to play with other unique souls. To make them feel heard, to make them laugh, to make them think, to bring beauty and art to life through whatever work I choose.
What I am discovering, too, is that life doesn’t have to be so complicated. Here we were, in the middle of the mountains, cut off from the rest of the world, no wifi, no mattresses, no toilets or showers, no mirrors. We ate, slept, shit, and showered side by side. And we were happy because we had each other and we were doing something good. That’s it.
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| Sunset over our 'home' in Manakamana |
I arrived home on Friday morning, emotional from so many hard goodbyes, but excited to reunite with Nate, a comfy bed, and some fresh veggies. While it's good to be home to my husband and some coastline, integration back into normal life is just as hard as I thought it would be. Not only do I miss my people in Nepal, but I'm also struggling not to lose sight of the person I want to be. I hope to hold on to my inspiration, to hold on to the friendships I've made, and to hold on to the magic I've felt these last months as I move forward.
Thank you to everyone who followed my journey, and to those who donated to this amazing cause!
