A Better Way

Ah, America. Fabled land of opportunity, where every dream becomes a reality, where paupers become princess and life is an endless dream of advertorials and junk food.In Seattle, Washington, Nepalis gather in small apartments over Jack Daniels and store-bought momos, reminisce about the old, but not necessarily good, days back in Nepal. They complain:

“There’s no opportunity in Nepal.” Says one. “There’s so much dirt and pollution.” Says another. “There’s no way I’m going back now that the Maoists are in power.” Says another. “How could they get rid of the king? He was Nepal’s only hope.” Says one who never felt the repercussions of February 1, 2005 and its aftermath, and never witnessed the power and glory of the April Uprising. And then, the clincher: “Our greencards are on their way.” But beneath all of their complaints is an undercurrent of nostalgia as strong as the dark waters flowing through the Trishuli. All Nepalis here yearn for Nepal, they pine for Nepal. They want to see the mountains, the hills, the old roads, the homes they grew up in. But no one’s willing to make the effort. Life is harder in Nepal, they say and no one seems to want to face that hardship. They want to walk into malls where the doors are automated, where the local market holds tomatoes almost as large as our pumpkins, and they want to buy a lottery ticket everyday, furtively scratching the paper with a nickel, a dime or a quarter, hoping to see those elusive little numbers that will make them rich overnight. A fool’s pursuit. “Who wants to go back?” They say. “”Once you live here, you never want to go back. Here you can make something of yourself,” They say. I think otherwise but I shrug, say nothing. Nepalis are prone to anger, especially when their patriotism is called into question. “I’ll go back soon,” they add, though. “But only when I get my greencard, so I can come back here, you know?” “I’m going to study for a month or two and then I’m going to quit and start working,” said a Nepali student to me, en route to Texas at the Bangkok Airport. He’s 24 but he quit his Bachelor’s studies in Nepal to go to Texas. There are almost 30 Nepali students at the airport and most are like him. “You’re going to New York? I guarantee that within a month you’ll have quit your college and started working,” says another, challenging me. “But I have a scholarship, if I work off-campus, they’ll kick me out,” I protest, naively. “It doesn’t matter. You can earn ten times your scholarship in New York,” he argues smugly. “Ever been there?” I question. “No, but I know. You’ll never go back to Nepal. Neither will any of us here. At least we escaped that hellhole of a country,” he says, putting his mobile music on pause. And then, he leers at a passing white lady, “Nice ass,” he says loudly. She looks back at us, a mixture of fear, loathing and disgust on her face. I wish I was somewhere else. I don’t dream big. I don’t hold high expectations. All I want is to take away something useful from America. They say there’s no greater country in the world and I do agree. But it’s not America itself but the people that make it great. I don’t want to be in America for its Mcdonalds, its Jackintheboxes and its Sevenelevens. I want to be here for its Stevenspeilbergs, its Stevejobs, and the millions of actors, musicians, artists, and creators who are adored worldwide. I want to learn how to be like them, learn from them and go back. I don’t hold dreams of changing the face of Nepal one day. That’s not just up to me. But there are people I know who go to Harvard, Stanford, Cornell, Brown, Swarthmore, U Chicago, Haverford, Hampshire, Oxford, Amherst and all of these amazing colleges that Americans have intense difficulty getting into. Even if just ten of them returned to Nepal, with the amazing education they get at those places, who knows where Nepal could end up. Life is easier here. I see that. There are no bandas, no fuel shortages, no garbage piles five feet high, instead every household has at least two cars, food is cheap, the streets are clean. Life is better here. But it’s not home. It’s not where your roots are. Go back if you can. Stay if you want to. But even if you stay, don’t forget. Don’t forget that you once were Nepali. That you once grew up in a place where the mountains never left the horizon, where village strangers would invite you into their homes for a cup of tea, some food and even a place to sleep for the night, where life is hard but we survive. I’ve always been a cynic, but I think it’s time I grew up. I’m a living sunset Lightning in my bones Push me to the edge But my will is stone Fools will be fools And wise will be wise But I will look this world Straight in the eyes What good is a man Who won’t take a stand What good is a cynic With no better plan Reality is sharp It cuts at me like a knife Everyone I know Is in the fight of their life Take your face out of your hands And clear your eyes You have a right to your dreams And don’t be denied I believe in a better way - A Better Way, Ben Harper.