Journey to a Tibetan refugee camp

In my high school freshman Spanish class, there was a transfer student who spoke about "Free Tibet" which apparently China had occupied in the 1950's.

That was the extent of my knowledge of Tibet or Tibetan people at the wise age of 15. Sad, but true. For the next 15 years I never thought to learn more about this. (I don't mean this as lightly as it sounds. I am certainly making up for it with all the research I'm doing now!) 

I went to Nepal to learn and understand Nepali people better. 

Tibetan people occupied no part of my thoughts, heart, or plans. 

That is, until I got to Nepal. 

I spent my first days and my last days in Nepal in a densely Tibetan part of Kathmandu- Boudhanath which is in the northeast part of Kathmandu, famously known for the Boudha Stupa, one of the largest stupas (Buddhist temple) in the country. 

What made this place even more full of wonder was my lack of expectation. Several of my contacts "just so happened" to work with Tibetan people. For me, Boudha is like a different world within an already different world. The clockwise walk around the stupa, people running their hands along the prayer wheels, prayers being chanted in Sanskrit, and so many Buddhist monks walking around in red cloaks. Red was everywhere. 

As always, time went too fast and I met with an average of 3 people each day my first week in Kathmandu. I headed off to Pokhara where I would spend the second part of my time in Nepal. My first morning in Pokhara was spent hiking and watching the breathtaking sunrise over the mountains. It's hard to come back to the States and call what I see on the east coast "mountains." 

After our morning hike, our trekking guide asked if we wanted to stop by the Tibetan refugee camp on our way back. Just a few hours before, one of my hiking buddies talked about his experience doing a Tibetan refugee camp tour. You can visit a Tibetan refugee camp!? Was my initial thought. Wait, there are Tibetan refugee camps? Was my second thought. 

I had knowledge of Bhutanese refugee camps, which is where many of my Nepali friends in the States had come from. Until a year and a half a ago, we lived in a refugee placement city in New Hampshire and I had been involved with the Nepali church there, made up of mostly Bhutanese Nepalese refugees. 

I have been an advocate for Syrian refugees these last few years. 

Refugees are a part of my story for even coming to Nepal. As a child, I was first introduced to refugees. My father is a carpenter and he employed a newly emigrated Ukrainian refugee man. His sandwich was always carefully wrapped in a clean cloth. He was kind and he was honest. 

I love refugees. 

I cannot express to you the shame I felt in my own ignorance, knowing nothing about Tibetan people. Again, Tibetan people were completely foreign to me. This revelation has led to a lot of research over the last few weeks. 

Stepping foot on this compound sparked so much more in me than just my overwhelming joy in seeing the women at work weaving. But here is that part of the story-

~

Upon entering the camp I was like a child. Filled with questions that led to more questions. I'm fairly certain that I simply walked around the compound, but in my memory it looks more like dancing. There was mention of a "rug making tour" and the next thing I remember was sitting next to this woman pictured below. 

I'll let you take in the photos. Be sure to catch the video at the very bottom. This precious woman took my hands in her own and insisted on trying to teach me her weaving technique. 

It was surreal. 

I thought I had died and gone to heaven. 

My eyes were so wide. 

I'm not sure if I remembered to breathe. 

Did I mention that I am rather fond of textiles, weaving, handicrafts and mildly obsessed with all things wool???

Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. 

I know nothing about sports and I don't care about celebrities, but if that's your thing, this was like a home run, or Emmy award moment of my life. It kind of felt like a surprise birthday party that actually really surprised me because it's not even my birthday. 

Does that explain why I included 6 (yes six) photos just of the looms and women weaving. I mean c'mon, humor me and just look at them. I haven't felt this excited to show a photo since it was my newborn baby!

... maybe that was a bit too far. 

I think you get it now, and maybe you're ready to see the pictures. 

*All the swooning and all the hashtags not included*

So much swooning was happening in this moment.

I desperately wanted to purchase one of these hand woven rugs. Next time...

Okay, moving along. If you weren't really into my 6! loom photos, maybe you'll enjoy a glimpse around the Tibetan refugee camp in Pokhara.

Mixed in with those puffy clouds are the jagged snowy mountain tops of the Annapurna mountain range. 

You see five flagged poles. I see the Gospel story colors. I don't think that is a mistake of my eye, but rather the pulling of my heart, a work of the Holy Spirit. 

Yes, those are snow topped mountains peeking through clouds. 

The building to the left, almost in the middle, is where heaven met earth for several minutes as I watched Tibetan women weave rugs. 

Most people think it is unwise to buy their 5 year old son a tiny scimitar dagger. This sweet man obviously understood that I'm not like most people. Jakob loves his "tiny sword."

From what I could see, we were the only tourists on the compound. I was surprised to see this line of merchants just patiently waiting to sell their goods. 

I kept saying after this experience "my joy is complete!"