A collective shame-blame

One morning we woke up to a cacophony of bashing willow-sticks. A group of captains and senior students had gathered at the site. It wasn’t a good sight either. Right beneath our dormitory’s wooden ladder, someone had conveniently relieved himself the previous night. And furious captains would not leave without solving this issue; either they needed to find the culprit or let all inmates clean it.

“How could anyone do that?” expression was writ bold on everyone’s face. No one dared admit. In fact no one knew. I was shivering on that morning not so much from cold but from fear of captains, to whom it seemed thrashing us all, was of immense satisfaction.

“What does it smell?” they questioned us all, willow sticks touching our noses.

We felt like shouting “Jada you stupid … what would a willow smell of?”

In the end, those devils commanded that it was our collective responsibility and that because no one was ‘cooperating’ with them, all of us should take part in cleaning the mess. Just because of someone we were to face the biggest embarrassment of our life. As we lined up with gho-sleeves covering our noses, to take our turns, our girls enjoyed the sight from their hostel. A collective responsibility, a collective blame, a collective shame!

We appeared like new army recruits lined up ready for the first command. We had to clean the mess with our fingers. Those who braved to go fast received it fresh and soft. Only scattered remains were left for the seniors who were at the other end of the queue. As I stooped to dip my index finger, the heap was half way through.

All cursed the culprit amongst us that morning like a devout chanting baza guri nonstop. Everyone saw culprit on everyone’s face.

I think it was only me who had seen the real culprit. And for the next few days, I was fortunate to be able to observe the boy’s guilt ridden face, if he had any at all. Even to this day, I am haunted by that incident. Maybe I should have told captains. Maybe I did the right thing.

I saved a man from being ridiculed yet I could not stop accusations being thrown at an innocent crowd.

When they are ready

The Ministry of Education discovered 890 'underage' children admitted in schools across the country in 2019. Thus, the ministry in May 2019 issued a notification revoking the admission for these children. Majority were in urban centres. Desperate, parents and the affected schools requested the government to intervene. They also requested the government to consider lowering the enrolment age to five years. Currently, in Bhutan a child can legally go to school only when s(he) is six years old. And that policy was strictly followed a few years ago to the extent that some schools refused to admit children even if they were short of a few weeks. So, parents, mostly in urban areas, resorted to faking their children's ages. Many parents were guilty of adding years onto their children's actual ages. However, most parents, we are told, managed to correct their 'mistakes' later. Faking a child's age was rampant...

The Vanishing Currency of a Bhutanese Village

Growing up in rural Bhutan, the richest people in the village often had very little cash. They were known as chukpo , 'the ones with cattle'. And no one asked how much money a person had in the bank. No one or only a countable few had bank accounts, anyway. Wealth was measured in fields, cattle, grains, and the ability to carry a family through the seasons. Cash existed, but it played only a small role. Most exchanges happened through barter. Rice for chillies, soya beans for Sichuan peppers, cheese for eggs. I still remember that a ball of homemade cheese was worth two fresh eggs. Nobody needed a calculator because people simply knew. The most remarkable part of the system was the exchange of labour. During sowing and planting seasons, families needed extra hands, yet labour was rarely paid in cash. If I spent three days helping on your farm, you spent three days helping on mine in return. No contract was needed to be signed. No money changed hands. Wealthier households so...

Community of Bhutanese Bloggers Conceived

And finally it happened. I must say that it was by far the most attended Bloggers Meet. In the past we had bloggers agree to attend and cancel at the very last minute. But on June 24, 2015 – almost 100% of bloggers, who confirmed came. I would like to thank everyone for keeping his/her words, especially those who had to come all the way from Wangdue or Paro. Thank you! 35 Bhutanese bloggers met in Thimphu. We were honored to have the presence of senior bloggers like Aue Yeshi Dorji and Dasho Sangay Khandu. The meeting assumed more significance because of their presence. Equally, we were happy to have many young bloggers in whom we see so much enthusiasm and potential. On top of many things that transpired during the Meet, one of the most significant outcomes was the unanimous decision reached to form a formal group of bloggers, a platform aimed at encouraging and inspiring more bloggers around the country. The members decided that we will call it Community of Bhutanese Blogger...

Ngawang Phuntsho

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