Thursday, January 31, 2013

Thimphu

The capitol of Bhutan used to be Punakha, but 50 years ago the fourth Druk Gyalpo (King) moved it to Thimphu.  At the time, Thimphu was a collection of small hamlets, but now 100,000 people live in greater Thimphu.  Anchored on the northern end by its impressive Trashi Chhoe Dzong, Thimphu is home to the royal government ministries, several Lakhangs (temples) and monasteries, a university, and the Changlimithang Stadium where in 1885 Ugyen Wangchuck, leader of Trongsa (a district in Bhutan), defeated the leaders of Punakha and Thimphu in battle and thus became the first Druk Gyalpo of Bhutan.


Trashi Chhoe Dzong

The Wangchuu River runs along the eastern edge of the city.  From the far side of the river, one can get a good view of Thimphu and the Standing Buddha that was a gift to Bhutan from the King of Thailand.  The Buddha stands in Coronation Park where the current king, the Fifth Druk Gyalpo, was crowned in 2008:
Bridge over the Wangchuu

Standing Buddha in Coronation Park on the Wangchuu

To cross the river from the eastern side, one uses a traditional covered bridge festooned with prayer flags that leads directly into the city's food market where on weekends hundreds of peddlers sell everything from apples and mandarin oranges from Punakha to dried fish, spices, and vegetables from India and China.







Though the most urban of all Bhutan's "cities," replete with coffee shops, bars, Thai and Indian restaurants and countless excellent bookshops, Thimphu still reflects traditional  Bhutanese culture.  Clocktower Square, at the center of the city, has rows of prayer wheels on each side and members of the community gather in the Square every morning to spin them and to pray.  




There are some sites one can see only in Asia, and perhaps only in a very Buddhist country, such as this mannikin outside a shop that sells clothes and accoutrements for monks and nuns:




Best of all, since the winter air is so clear and the sun always shines in January, in Thimphu one can simultaneously see BOTH the Standing Buddha in Coronation Park AND the largest seated Buddha in the world (look carefully--they alost line up!):













Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Dogs of Thimphu and Changri

























Dog and Penis (to ward off demons) in Chagri



Educating for Sustainable Happiness


Educating for Sustainable Happiness

Maybe it is because Bhutan is so small--the size of Switzerland but with a population of only 700,000 people; or maybe it is because it is so deeply, genuinely Buddhist; or perhaps it is due to the remarkable vision of  two men, the Fourth and Fifth Druk Gyalpos (the last two kings in the Wangchuk dynasty who have overseen Bhutan's transition from a monarchy to a parliamentary democracy).  In any case, the education system in Bhutan is so well articulated, so thoughtful, so progressive and so comprehensive that it bears notice.  

The Ministry of Education here has spent years developing a method for "educating for sustainable happiness," that is, providing to all Bhutan's citizens a "holistic, contemplative, eco-sensitive" education, guaranteed by the Constitution* and based on the principles of Gross National Happiness.

Gross National Happiness has no true parallel in the United States, though it is often compared to our GDP, or Gross Domestic Product, the value of all goods and services in a given period of time; it is meant to indicate the economic health of a nation, and, by implication, its robustness in general.  But since 1971, Bhutan formally rejected GDP as a measure of the health of the nation and instead embraced GNH.  Years were spent developing a reliable and valid measure of happiness based on “Four Pillars”: 1) Equitable and sustainable economic development; 2) Preservation of culture and language; 3) Environmental conservation; and 4) Good governance.  These Four Pillars of GNH inform every policy decision made, including education policy (for more information on Bhutan’s GNH, go here: http://www.grossnationalhappiness.com/).

During a visit to the Ministry of Education, Lyonpo Thakur S. Powdyel (Lyonpo means ‘minister’) explained to us sixteen Bhutan Canada Foundation teachers the Five Pathways for Gross National Happiness in education.  The first is meditation and mind training (the Lyonpo took pains to point out that this is not Buddhist meditation per se since there are Bon and Hindu practitioners in Bhutan; however, the Bhutan Teacher Handbook states that one of the “Values Relating to Civic Responsibilities” that teachers are expected to impart to students is to “develop a commitment to Buddhist philosophy of non-violence, tolerance, compassion, love and peace which has enabled the Bhutanese to live in harmony, respecting individual difference”).  The Bhutanese believe that a student who does not know his own mind and who cannot focus his attention cannot learn and will not be happy.  The second pathway is the curriculum itself, which is allegedly infused with GNH values (more on the curriculum in a later post).  Provision of varied learning environments is the third pathway to GNH: instead of rote learning at a desk in a classroom, students are expected to augment their education with community service which is built into every school day; sports and games to develop collaboration; music, arts, and crafts, both traditional and contemporary; and what the Lyonpo called “classroom citizenship,” or what we might call ‘Effort/Conduct.”  Since TV and the internet were introduced in 1999, media literacy and critical thinking have gotten a great deal of attention and are now one of the Pathways to GNH.  Finally, holistic assessment are being promoted as healthier than learning by rote for standardized class exams (though, due to the overall system of promotion and the limited availability of university seats, students still must pass their tenth class exams in order to attend Higher Secondary School and be eligible for college placement; the result is a theoretical commitment to holistic, formative assessment but in reality, we are to teach to the test).



Lyonpo Thakur Powdyel


Lyonpo Powdyel was clear-eyed about the success of the implementation of these Pathways: he recognizes that thus far the effectiveness of this model has been limited.  This is a poor, rural country after all, and training principals and teachers in modern methodologies in far-flung Dzongkhags (districts) presents countless challenges, both pragmatic and philosophical.  Nevertheless, the theoretical underpinnings of the Bhutanese education system are impressive, as are its structural components, designed to bring free education to every citizen of Bhutan.


In Bhutan, there are three educational systems: the monastic system, the formal educational system (in existence only since the 1960s), and what is called the “non-formal and continuing education" system.  The combination of these three systems seeks to provide for the needs of ALL Bhutanese, regardless of their financial circumstances, age or location.  

The monastic system continues to provide a vital and relevant education but a narrowly defined one: in general, students study classical Tibetan (the national language of Bhutan, Dzongkha, is similar to Tibetan), not English, and, of course, Buddhist teachings and meditation.  In Thimphu, monks and nuns are seen on the streets nearly as often as lay people.  Roughly twenty percent of the population of Bhutan is monastic, but to an American it seems that even the shopkeepers are monastic:  everyone, including the teenagers with their K-Pop hairdos, prays in the morning as they spin prayer wheels in Clocktower Square or at the National Chorten, circumambulating, and repeating the mantras of Guru Rinpoche or the all-purpose Om mane padme hum (indeed, on a recent visit to the National Chorten I witnessed a three-year old girl giddily performing prostrations with her mother).  It is still a common practice for every family--especially less privileged ones--to send one male child to the monastery--after all, he will receive a free education with room and board.  Some of the older monks and nuns have entered monastic life because their children are grown, they are retired, and they want to finish their days in a life of contemplation, or they have no family to take care of them.  Thus, the monasteries are a comprehensive social welfare system for youth and the elderly.

The formal educational system began at the behest of the third King of Bhutan  who recognized the need for the Bhutanese to become aware of the world beyond Bhutan’s borders.  Today, this system consists of pre-primary through higher secondary and is free through the tenth class.  At the end of tenth grade, students take an exam to see if they will be permitted to continue their studies; the top 40% of test-takers are admitted to eleventh grade.  Those students who do not make the cut can pay for private school and attend higher secondary, or they can pay for private school and re-take tenth grade and the exam.
The other 60%--those students who do not pass the tenth grade exam--go either to vocational school, private school or work.  This formal system, the Lyonpo acknowledged, relies too much on standardized testing and does not promote critical thinking to the degree the Ministry desires, but, he noted, change takes time (he also noted that one of the reasons the government of Bhutan relies on NGOs like the Bhutan Canada Foundation is that they provide teachers who bring innovative approaches to teaching that demand students use critical thinking).

Most impressive, at least in theory, is Bhutan’s non-formal and continuing education system which provides education for those who, for whatever reason, are unable to take advantage of the formal system: older farmers who were already adults when the new school system was developed; women and girls who, for various reasons, could not take advantage of universal education; and anyone who cannot complete Higher Secondary school, either because they did not pass the exams or because they cannot afford to pay the school fees (only a few dollars per year) for 11th and 12th grades.

Across Bhutan, there are 958 Non-Formal Education (NFE) Centers that provide classes per the convenience of the students--early in the morning or late at night, depending on the students’ needs.  These Centers have their own curriculum and teaching staff and provide basic numeracy and literacy; some are in the most remote communities in Bhutan and others address the specific needs of nomads who can only “attend” school in specific seasons at specific places in the country, depending on when and where the livestock is herded**.  These NFEs have won international awards and are intended to become obsolete once all Bhutanese are literate and numerate.  Continuing Education (CE), or what we know as Adult Education, is also provided to improve the academic qualifications of those who ended their schooling at 10th grade.  Students in CE, all adults, take the Board Exams and pay for access to the same curriculum and teachers as the younger students in 10th-12th grades.

All of us in attendance at the Ministry were moved by the Lyonpo Powdyel’s explanation of Bhutan’s efforts to imbue teaching and learning with the principles of Gross National Happiness.  This isn’t simply rhetoric--it is clear from casual conversations with many Bhutanese that GNH is the currency here, much as our Bill of Rights or system of checks and balances provides our country with a moral direction.  However, we BCF teachers are aware that once we are in our schools we will be faced with the reality of class X exams and competition for coveted seats in 11th class and in university.  Over time, though, the Indian system that Bhutan inherited in the 1960s will give way to the vision of the current King Jigme Wangchuk and Lyonpo Powdyel as the notion of ‘educating for sustainable happiness’ slowly becomes reality.


*Article 9 of Bhutan’s constitution, passed in 2008, guarantees “education for the purpose of improving and increasing knowledge, values and skills of the entire population with education being directed towards the full development of the human personality.”  

**The schools in Bhutan fall into four categories based on their relative remoteness from an urban center.  The most remote schools are called “Difficult Schools”--these are near no roads, have no electricity, hospitals, telephones or markets, and are more than three dholams from a road, a dholam being “one day’s walk with a reasonable load.”  What a “reasonable load” might be is unclear--a 40 pound bag of rice?  One’s grandmother?  A “Remote School,” by comparison, is 1-2 dholams from a road.  Punakha Higher Secondary School, where I will be teaching, is considered an “Urban” school, though the adjective “urban” is not the urban invoked when describing an American city.


Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Om ah hum benza! Om pema siddhi hum!


22 January, 2013
Takstang Hermitage (The Tiger’s Nest)
Paro, Bhutan

We wake at 6:00 am to scrambled eggs and dry white toast and porridge and black tea in the cold dining room barely heated by a welcoming fire kindled with dry yellow pine. The table is the length of the dining room and we meet there in the dark, icy morning in our thick socks and hiking boots. Karma Tshering has come to get us in his gho, black polypro long johns with white crew socks and his Vasque hiking boots.  Thubten Senge, the ballet dancer from Norfolk, England who was ordained as a Nyingma monk in Nepal seven months ago is dumping tablespoons full of sugar into his porridge.  Jonathan from New Hampshire who has been teaching writing for the past ten years in a Benedictine school in London cajoles us and smiles as his eyes crinkle shut; Kyle, formerly of Aramco in Oman, looks haggard; Lee has suddenly lost his voice here at the Dechen Hotel in Paro so he sits quietly sipping his sweet tea--he is also from Maine but has his Masters in Early Chinese Archaeology and has taught English in Saudi Arabia and China; Sharon is my roommate and is from Singapore, a biology teacher who has studied at the University of Michigan and at Columbia and who is a little shy, but very observant; and there are Matt and Lucy, the Aussies from Canberra and Perth, he a music and English teacher and she, his red-headed wife, who just completed her PhD in Cultural Studies and is hoping to teach at the college level here and continue her research in education and community development--this is only half of the group: the others are jet-lagged and still in bed or have not yet arrived.  

Fortified by breakfast, we take the 30 minute drive to Taktsang in our white tourist bus that has been lent to us for the week.  The sun crests over the forested mountains tipped in snow, melting the frost on the bus windows.  At this altitude (2280 meters) and in this dry air the sun delivers welcome and intense heat even though when we left the Dechen Hotel I could see my breath.  

Taktsang is perhaps the most sacred site in Bhutan: the current hermitage, monastery and meditation huts were built in the 16th century by the Zhabdrung Ngawang Namgyel (the man who first unified Bhutan), but the more remote history of this pilgrimage destination is profound.

Thus have I heard: In the 8th century, the Guru Padmasambhava, considered by Tibetans and Bhutanese to be the second Buddha, brought Tantric Buddhism to the Himalayas from what is now the Swat Valley in Afghanistan (then known as Oddiyana). He flew to Bhutan on the back of his dakini consort, Yeshe Tsogyal, who had manifested as a flying tigress (dakini = the female principle in Tantric Buddhism that is necessary, not subordinated, for enlightenment: it is wisdom, where the male principle is compassion, and the two properly united bring the practitioner to enlightenment). Here, he (and she) subdued the demons that had terrorized Bhutan and had proved impediments to Buddhism taking root.  Taktsang, which means ‘Tiger’s Lair’, was one of many tiger’s lairs that Padmasambhava chose for meditation, and subsequently countless great Buddhist masters used these caves for their meditation retreats (including the remarkable Milarepa--more on him later).

Built over these caves in the classical Bhutanese architectural style are the 16th century meditation huts still in use for the three year, three month, three week, three day and three hour retreats that are required of lamas and nuns in the Tantric tradition.  At the very top of Taktsang is the monastery where over 100 monks and nuns are currently in residence.  Our destination on this crystal day was the hermitage, the only section of the compound open to the public. 

We are lead up the trail by a series of jaunty wild dogs, tails wagging, some with the characteristically square black and brown faces and folded ears of Tibetan mastiffs; others like dingos, yellow and pointy-snouted, tails curled over their backs, a white V of fur at their bums.  



Flocks of iridescent green and brown birds with long tails and white eye rings--perhaps Black-faced Laughingthrushes--clamor in the treetops, sending showers of snow onto the trail.  Halfway up is a way station where one may stop for a cup of tea, but we hike on breathlessly, peeling off layers of clothes.





The hermitage appears miraculously and pendulously attached to sheer rock walls on one side of a 900 meter chasm.  To apprehend this building from below is to suspend disbelief: it is not a physical possibility for it, and the meditation huts nearby, to hang there, let alone to have been built there by humans with rudimentary tools and only natural materials. 



It becomes even less believable as one approaches it on foot, having hiked two hours up, and then suddenly and perilously down where the sun has not yet shone into the treacherously frozen chasm, past a thundering waterfall, immediately beyond which appears a vertical stone staircase which leads to a wooden ladder leaning on a closed door to a hut built over the cave in which Yeshe Tsogyal meditated and where a nun currently ‘lives.'  Thubten Senge runs up those steps two at a time to receive the power of the place:


Thubten Senge runs up to Yeshe Tsogyal's hut to pray

And then there are thick wooden doors.  A sleepy young monk in sandals and simple maroon robes unlocks them and they swing open with a rusty metal clang.

I can’t explain what happens then.  After passing through those doors and relinquishing my shoes, I stand on the cold stones in my stocking feet, looking out on the valley below, see mist rising from the oddly shaped grey and brown fields.  Suddenly, I feel split open; tears run down my cheeks.  The stones hold me there as I weep, disarmed and unabashed.  

I hear Karma speaking in Dzongkha to the monk; then hear him encouraging me and a few of the other hikers--Matt? Jonathan?--to follow him up a narrow flight of steps to the low door of a shrine room. Hiding my face, wiping my cheeks, I enter.  A gold statue of Guru Rinpoche stands on the back of a fierce tiger, decorated in vibrant blues, reds and yellows fills one wall of the small room, illuminated by sunlight from one window with a view of the valley.  Monks and visitors have left offerings of bowls of water, incense, burning oil lamps, silver containers of rice, prayer flags, three-foot tall butter statues, boxes of Choco-Pies and bags of potato chips.  One gives what one can.

Uncomprehending, I kneel and prostrate three times, honoring this place, this spontaneous explosion of deep emotion.  I remain with my forehead touching the stone floor, my hands extended, palms down, in front of me.  I can’t move.

My nose is running, my chest tight with whatever these feelings are--joy? grief?  It doesn’t matter.

After some minutes, I manage to stand again and join the others in a second and then a third shrine room, each larger than the last, and each honoring the power of the unity of compassion and wisdom that Tantra teaches.  The smell of incense penetrates the air.  A large group of Japanese tourists arrives.  Our leave-taking is reluctant, businesslike.  “Kadinche-la!” we say, thanking a smiling monk standing by the doors petting a thick-coated tailless cat, and begin the climb down, down to what, we don’t know.




                  Om ah hum benza! Om pema siddhi hum!

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Bangkok Airport Hotel January 20, 2013

The only guests in this "boutique hotel" on the ring road beyond Suvarnabhumi Airport are me and a short, very thin Indian man whose narrow birdlike feet shuffle up and down the hall in the over-sized terry slippers provided by the magnanimous hoteliers.  Offered to eat in the lobby are flavorless biscuits that look like a Thai version of biscotti.   There's the rumor of dinner.  My skin is gummy with the dirt and sweat of a day wandering Bangkok, and before I do much else I need to take a shower.

Since leaving India five years ago, I'd forgotten how urban Asia smells: like hot pavement and the nauseating sweet smell of decay and algae rising from the river.  The smell alone has made me nervous about this adventure--I am remembering how it felt to be unable to find a quiet refuge of trees and grass unsullied by trash and feral animals, away from honking horns and blaring Asian pop music.  At least in Thailand there is less honking.  And less trash.  And the feral animals are cats and dogs, not cows.  But the smell reminds me, too, of the strange kind of loneliness that trying to live in a completely alien culture engenders.

And yet: Bhutan is not Thailand or India.  The air and water will be clean and there will not be touts and tuk tuks; the sky will be enormous, held up by staggering mountains, and it will be bracingly cold.  Trees still dominate the lanscape, leopards still prowl at night, and there is an entire national park devoted to protecting the habitat of the Yeti.  The people are famously earnest, self-deprecating and fond of pranks and jokes (which must be why they love Drukpa Kinley, the drunken, mad Buddhist protector of Bhutan), and have little of the cynicism that defines modern life for most of us.  It will be hard, certainly, to adjust to the food, the new people, the constant demands that being the New Teacher will incur, but a new kind of hard, an easier kind of hard.

BACKGROUND IMAGE: This is Padma Sambhava, the Tantric master who introduced Buddhism to Tibet and Bhutan.  It is believed that he flew into Bhutan in the 8th century from what is now the Swat Valley in Afghanistan on the back of Yeshe Tsogyal, one of his female consorts whom he had changed into a tiger for this journey.  On arrival, he meditated in a cave which evolved into Taktsang Monastery, or "The Tiger's Nest," Bhutan's most famous landmark.  He is always depicted with his eyes wide open and the thin hairs of his moustache curling upwards in a smile.