Peace does not happen alone...Peace happens in Community. I cannot force peace upon you, just as you cannot force peace upon me. If I were to attempt to force someone to behave peacefully, and they disagree, then what? My only resort is to violence.
Lasting peace is only possible by changing US; by changing our relationship. By demonstrating the benefits of peace and the security true peace brings, and by building a positive relationship we will increase respect and understanding between us. If WE change instead of changing each other, the antagonism disappears. Conflict between us is the catalyst for change, and when we approach that conflict intentionally and constructively, the change that happens in US will strengthen the peace. If I change and try to force that change upon you, that harmonious peace disappears.
So what is peace? Peace is not the reduction of conflict, or the reduction of anger, it is the happiness and rightness of strengthening OUR relationship. This strengthening of relationships can happen individually, spiritually, comunally, culturally or politically. And those relationships are the foundation on which peace is built. The changing of those relationships is the dynamic of peace in this world.
Peace.
Steve.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Views of the Himals
These pictures illustrate in bland colours the vistas awaiting travelers to Nepal. The snowcapped mountains of the highest range in the world are nothing short of awe-inspiring. A beauty not adequately captured by my simple photography. I hope you enjoy some of these beautiful views, as you wonder at the power of creation.
Peace.
Steve.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
A Modhupur Wedding
So I went to a Christian, village wedding. It seems like every event I go to is in a tribal village, which is a blast! This was my first Christian wedding in Bangladesh, and an interesting one is was. To start, we had to get to the village, riding on the back of a motorcycle across a bombed out field (used as a practice bombing range by the Bangladesh Airforce) then on to the bride's home we went, just in time to follow the procession of drum-wielding youth down the long path to the groom's home. This is one of the cultural traditions here. The groom's family and friends come to the bride's home for a party before bringing her back to the groom's home for another party. A symbolic parting of families, in a culture where family is vital. The party at the groom's home. The groom Linkon, my friend's cousin, and his bride-to-be began the festivities with traditional Mandi dancing, in a circle, and the festivities lasted long into the night.
After crashing past 2am I rose the next morning to a plate full of rice and pork fat in a curry (they call it pork). Following breakfast we watched the preparation of the wedding feast. The pigs and chickens had to be prepared, as did the curries and the rice, a feast for all the villages around, numbering almost 1000 people. The wedding was a fairly typical affair, typical that is for Bangladesh. Neither the bride nor the groom ever looked up at the guests, the only physical contact included holding hands to exchange wedding bands and the only speaking was the repetition of the vows. Besides the upholding of these cultural norms, the ceremony was quite typical, despite being outside surrounded by the mud walls of the family home.
Following the ceremony was the meal. A huge meal of pork and chicken curries with rice. As per usual, the only "vegetable" was potatoes and even that I had to ask for because I had not eaten a vegetable since early the last day. Because of their special status guests are served meat as it is expensive and a privilege to eat. Despite the fact that I would much prefer lots of vegetables with a little meat to the meat extravaganza I ate. After the meal, gifts were given to the guests and each received pan (a common chewed leaf like chewing tobacco). After the gifts were given we departed, having thoroughly enjoyed my first Modhupur Wedding.Peace.
Steve.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
New Year, New Challenges
A New Year has come and I am in Bangladesh, still. The first year, or actually half year, of our work as the Taize Peace Team is finished, and despite the many challenges of Holidays and Exams, we managed to visit all of the schools at least 3 times and start a program at the Bihari Camp. For a group of busy students and teachers, we have started slowly but started well. I am excited for this new year, as new programs are added to our schedule and more people will be affected by our message of Peace. What is peace? We are slowly learning to answer this question ourselves, and we are challenging others to seek the answer themselves. Keep us in your thoughts as you go forward this New Year. That we can show the benefits of Peace and Justice to the people we meet here in Bangladesh.
En Paix.
Steve.
En Paix.
Steve.
The Excitement of Newcomers
I have the privilege here in Bangladesh to witness the changes that occur to people as they move through the stages of Bangladeshi culture shock. I heard an acronym recently that has so far described Bangladesh for most of us, and it goes like this T.I.B. (This Is Bangladesh!). For each individual aspects of Bangladesh come with different reactions and different levels of confusion. But there are a few comments which come as a shock to even our guests from outside of North America and Europe.
The first comment from a recent arrival to Bangladesh is about the traffic. Everyone is amazed that we have lasted as long as we have. They cannot understand the system and strongly claim that they will not leave where they are staying because it is too dangerous. That of course, changes within a week or two, and people are out enjoying the streets and the joys of being out in Bangladesh.
The second comment most often heard is in regard to men and boys holding hands and placing their hands on each others shoulders. In the places from which we come, that would be assumed an act of a homosexual nature, but not in Bangladesh. It is a natural gesture between friends to walk down the street holding hands, and I must admit to having done that a few times (never initiated by me).
The third comment comes in many forms but usually involves the "disgusting" nature of Bangladeshi expulsions. Burps are often indicators of a good meal being well digested, and clearing of the lungs, throat and mouth of mucus in a very raucous manner before proceeding to spit the glob as far as humanly possible is a very common sight. And for men, it is not uncommon to see men lined up by the sewers on the sides of the road relieving themselves. This combination of normally private, or "rude" behaviours catches most newcomers off guards and they have some fearful reactions to Bangladeshis who act in such a "vulgar" manner. To be clear, in North America Bangladeshis acting in this manner would be considered vulgar and rude, but we are not in North America, and in Bangladesh that's the way they do things.
I guess that's the best explanation to newcomers to Bangladesh. That's how they do things. This is the way things work in Bangladesh. If it's got wheels, it's on the road carrying passengers as a form of public transit. If it's someone else's trash you'll find it resold in the market the next day. If you can't import it, they'll make it. T.I.B. This Is Bangladesh!
Peace.
Steve.
The first comment from a recent arrival to Bangladesh is about the traffic. Everyone is amazed that we have lasted as long as we have. They cannot understand the system and strongly claim that they will not leave where they are staying because it is too dangerous. That of course, changes within a week or two, and people are out enjoying the streets and the joys of being out in Bangladesh.
The second comment most often heard is in regard to men and boys holding hands and placing their hands on each others shoulders. In the places from which we come, that would be assumed an act of a homosexual nature, but not in Bangladesh. It is a natural gesture between friends to walk down the street holding hands, and I must admit to having done that a few times (never initiated by me).
The third comment comes in many forms but usually involves the "disgusting" nature of Bangladeshi expulsions. Burps are often indicators of a good meal being well digested, and clearing of the lungs, throat and mouth of mucus in a very raucous manner before proceeding to spit the glob as far as humanly possible is a very common sight. And for men, it is not uncommon to see men lined up by the sewers on the sides of the road relieving themselves. This combination of normally private, or "rude" behaviours catches most newcomers off guards and they have some fearful reactions to Bangladeshis who act in such a "vulgar" manner. To be clear, in North America Bangladeshis acting in this manner would be considered vulgar and rude, but we are not in North America, and in Bangladesh that's the way they do things.
I guess that's the best explanation to newcomers to Bangladesh. That's how they do things. This is the way things work in Bangladesh. If it's got wheels, it's on the road carrying passengers as a form of public transit. If it's someone else's trash you'll find it resold in the market the next day. If you can't import it, they'll make it. T.I.B. This Is Bangladesh!
Peace.
Steve.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
The Mountain Air
To those of you who are wondering if we were walking in the Himalayas, I'm sorry to say the answer is, no we weren't. I'm not sure I would have survived that kind of altitude change so quickly, and so for my health we kept to the "little hills". For me, coming from the unending monotony of flat, which is the country of Bangladesh (Mymensingh is 35 feet above sea level, and about 400 km from the sea). Even the small foothills of the Himalayas surrounding Kathmandu were an impressive sight for me. Philip and I did do a two day walk, although our distances would not indicate only two days. We spent the first day walking around an ancient city which charges exorbitant prices for foreigners to even walk through to the other side. Then we followed roads and trails up a hill to the gorgeous temple of Changu Narayan, a World Heritage Site. It was here that we ate a small lunch of crackers and water, before hiking the next section of trail on the road to Nagarkot. Nagarkot is situated at the top of the hill, and is a tourist attraction because of its beautiful morning scenery and views of the Himalayas snowcapped peaks. Unfortunately for us, the timing of our foray into Nepal coincides with the time when fog often shrouds the views of the Himalayas, but that did not stop us from witnessing some spectacular views. The last 9 km climb into Nagarkot is straight up a small hill, the entire way. And by the time we reached the village having covered some 22 km or so that day, we made our way to one of the many guest houses lining the town at the top of the hill.
Following a beautiful evening and morning on the mountain, surrounded by some of the most majestic mountains on God's great earth, we walked on to Botechaur, where unlike the guidebooks all agree, there is no guest house. And so on we walked. The path from Botechaur was likely the most grueling climb I have ever done. The trail climbed over 600 vertical meters in the space of less than two kilometers. The physical strength of the inhabitants of this land astounds me. We climbed, and climbed, and climbed, stopping many times to catch our breaths but never long enough to sit down, for fear we wouldn't reach the top. But the views were astounding. Having brought enough gear that we could, if need be, sleep on top of the small hill, which I bought just before Botechaur, we walked all the way on to Sundarijal. The descent down the hill was much more gradual than the climb up, and provided good views, but for two exhausted boys, some of them may have been lost a little bit. The final descent into Sundarijal proved one of the toughest of my physical exploits ever. After approximately 40 km of walking in two days, we needed to descend the last few kilometers down rough stairs hewn into the valley, as the sun was setting and our way become less visible. Our legs were shaking uncontrollably but we were nearly there, and as we finally walked in the near dark into Sundarijal and I bargained a taxi price, we both felt an unbelievable feeling of accomplishment.
We climbed into the mountain air, and the hills did not defeat us. We saw the beauty of the surroundings and our bodies did the rest. On a side note, we were so exhausted the next day that we slept most of the day.
Peace.
Steve.
Following a beautiful evening and morning on the mountain, surrounded by some of the most majestic mountains on God's great earth, we walked on to Botechaur, where unlike the guidebooks all agree, there is no guest house. And so on we walked. The path from Botechaur was likely the most grueling climb I have ever done. The trail climbed over 600 vertical meters in the space of less than two kilometers. The physical strength of the inhabitants of this land astounds me. We climbed, and climbed, and climbed, stopping many times to catch our breaths but never long enough to sit down, for fear we wouldn't reach the top. But the views were astounding. Having brought enough gear that we could, if need be, sleep on top of the small hill, which I bought just before Botechaur, we walked all the way on to Sundarijal. The descent down the hill was much more gradual than the climb up, and provided good views, but for two exhausted boys, some of them may have been lost a little bit. The final descent into Sundarijal proved one of the toughest of my physical exploits ever. After approximately 40 km of walking in two days, we needed to descend the last few kilometers down rough stairs hewn into the valley, as the sun was setting and our way become less visible. Our legs were shaking uncontrollably but we were nearly there, and as we finally walked in the near dark into Sundarijal and I bargained a taxi price, we both felt an unbelievable feeling of accomplishment.
We climbed into the mountain air, and the hills did not defeat us. We saw the beauty of the surroundings and our bodies did the rest. On a side note, we were so exhausted the next day that we slept most of the day.
Peace.
Steve.
Beauty and Grandeur
Here we are in the gorgeous country of Nepal, in Kathmandu Valley. The greatest peaks in the world, obscured by the winter mist, we look to the hills and know we are in a majestic place. There is no mistaking the beauty of this land, despite the invisibility of the Himals, the architecture and people bring this country alive.
What were my first impressions of this country? It is serenely beautiful, mystically empowering, yet full of secrets and dichotomies. The traffic driving through the valley was what I saw first, and I knew immediately I was in a new place. The traffic was dense, yet civilized; drivers obeyed traffic signals and there was patience shown by our driver. The traffic here in Nepal is quieter, and not quite as busy, but still chaotic.
The next impression I will mention is the architecture. The architecture in Nepal and especially Kathmandu is stunningly gorgeous in comparison to the very plain and simple designs of Bangladesh. Window frames are almost as intricately carved as their attending shutters. Ornately carved wells are common sights throughout older areas of the valley, figureheads carved out of stone deep in a hole, surrounded by walls of carvings and graffiti. Pagodas and Temples, sights of worship for Nepal’s most common religions, Buddhism and Hinduism, are ornately decorated, beautiful pieces of architecture. And in my naïveté, as a lay-tourist, these architectural designs have an appeal, a draw, much beyond any religious connotations and religious ceremonies for which they are still used. But probably the most stunning image of architectural beauty is simultaneously the saddest reality of this country, its buildings decaying and rundown give an air of historical beauty. Walls, barely standing with intricately carved windows, inject the surroundings with the sense of past glory. The downside to this beauty is the obvious poverty in which the inhabitants of these buildings live. The dangerous instability of the structures and the cold chill the winter months bring.
The third impression I was struck by in this beautiful country was the lack of people. Even in the capital, the bustling centre of Kathmandu, the people seemed to flow in a calm current. It was not the raging torrent of people I often feel in Bangladesh. The people here are calm, collected and used to waiting for hours for anything to happen. The other aspect of the people I noticed has its positives and negatives. Foreigners are common in this country. I was shocked by how many foreigners I saw, and was even more shocked when told that this not the tourist season and the numbers were actually very low. In a place where I am used to knowing all the foreigners I see because there are so few, being in this country with tourist attractions and tourist infrastructure was really nice, but it also has its downside. The price of things are double, triple, quadruple, the price for the Nepalese, just to enter a city could cost $10 per person. The tourist influx which will not likely materialize in Bangladesh for the next little while, will keep the cost of goods very low, and make living there one of the cheapest places in the world.
Nepal, being only a short plane hop away from Bangladesh, has its similarities and its differences. It is naturally one of the most stunningly beautiful countries I have ever seen. It is a wonderful destination and a relaxing holiday, a place I will not soon forget.
Shanti,
Steve.
What were my first impressions of this country? It is serenely beautiful, mystically empowering, yet full of secrets and dichotomies. The traffic driving through the valley was what I saw first, and I knew immediately I was in a new place. The traffic was dense, yet civilized; drivers obeyed traffic signals and there was patience shown by our driver. The traffic here in Nepal is quieter, and not quite as busy, but still chaotic.
The next impression I will mention is the architecture. The architecture in Nepal and especially Kathmandu is stunningly gorgeous in comparison to the very plain and simple designs of Bangladesh. Window frames are almost as intricately carved as their attending shutters. Ornately carved wells are common sights throughout older areas of the valley, figureheads carved out of stone deep in a hole, surrounded by walls of carvings and graffiti. Pagodas and Temples, sights of worship for Nepal’s most common religions, Buddhism and Hinduism, are ornately decorated, beautiful pieces of architecture. And in my naïveté, as a lay-tourist, these architectural designs have an appeal, a draw, much beyond any religious connotations and religious ceremonies for which they are still used. But probably the most stunning image of architectural beauty is simultaneously the saddest reality of this country, its buildings decaying and rundown give an air of historical beauty. Walls, barely standing with intricately carved windows, inject the surroundings with the sense of past glory. The downside to this beauty is the obvious poverty in which the inhabitants of these buildings live. The dangerous instability of the structures and the cold chill the winter months bring.
The third impression I was struck by in this beautiful country was the lack of people. Even in the capital, the bustling centre of Kathmandu, the people seemed to flow in a calm current. It was not the raging torrent of people I often feel in Bangladesh. The people here are calm, collected and used to waiting for hours for anything to happen. The other aspect of the people I noticed has its positives and negatives. Foreigners are common in this country. I was shocked by how many foreigners I saw, and was even more shocked when told that this not the tourist season and the numbers were actually very low. In a place where I am used to knowing all the foreigners I see because there are so few, being in this country with tourist attractions and tourist infrastructure was really nice, but it also has its downside. The price of things are double, triple, quadruple, the price for the Nepalese, just to enter a city could cost $10 per person. The tourist influx which will not likely materialize in Bangladesh for the next little while, will keep the cost of goods very low, and make living there one of the cheapest places in the world.
Nepal, being only a short plane hop away from Bangladesh, has its similarities and its differences. It is naturally one of the most stunningly beautiful countries I have ever seen. It is a wonderful destination and a relaxing holiday, a place I will not soon forget.
Shanti,
Steve.
True Hospitality
Written by: Philip Rempel
My Christmas was slightly different from Steven’s. There I was all ready to go for Christmas in the mission. I had my sweater incase it got cold and I was ready for anything, so I thought. My body decided that this was the time it was going to react to the food I had been eating, which was very different than my regular diet. I got to Asheesh’s family and there house and decided it was time for a nap. They gave me a nice bed full of blankets and pillows where I could start to fend off this sickness. That was extremely kind of them to begin with. Then my body began to fever, and with this they brought me water, and tried to keep me from overheating as best they knew how. They even went out of there way to buy bottled water, which is expensive, for this foreigner. Along with Steven’s experience with the food they kept offering me food. I wasn’t feeling hungry and so I felt bad about that. Then I slept a while longer, with people constantly checking to see if I was okay, and checking to see if I felt warm or if it was getting better. Then I started to get some bowel issues from the food and probably water, and as soon as that started they went into overdrive because of how many people die from diarrhea. They went and got saline and boiled water to put it into, and got me drugs to harden my bowels. This isn’t exactly cheap stuff for them, but they wouldn’t let my brother or I pay for any of this, and when I drank the saline too fast and threw up all over there nicely cleaned mud floors they wouldn’t even let Steve or I clean it up. They kept making sure I was alright, and when I started getting better they made food that would be good for my body, without being deepfried and some cooked vegetables. Their hospitality for this white foreigner was incredible. They made me feel like I was worth something and that it is true that every creature God created has a place. There love and caring will not soon be forgotten by me.
Philip.
My Christmas was slightly different from Steven’s. There I was all ready to go for Christmas in the mission. I had my sweater incase it got cold and I was ready for anything, so I thought. My body decided that this was the time it was going to react to the food I had been eating, which was very different than my regular diet. I got to Asheesh’s family and there house and decided it was time for a nap. They gave me a nice bed full of blankets and pillows where I could start to fend off this sickness. That was extremely kind of them to begin with. Then my body began to fever, and with this they brought me water, and tried to keep me from overheating as best they knew how. They even went out of there way to buy bottled water, which is expensive, for this foreigner. Along with Steven’s experience with the food they kept offering me food. I wasn’t feeling hungry and so I felt bad about that. Then I slept a while longer, with people constantly checking to see if I was okay, and checking to see if I felt warm or if it was getting better. Then I started to get some bowel issues from the food and probably water, and as soon as that started they went into overdrive because of how many people die from diarrhea. They went and got saline and boiled water to put it into, and got me drugs to harden my bowels. This isn’t exactly cheap stuff for them, but they wouldn’t let my brother or I pay for any of this, and when I drank the saline too fast and threw up all over there nicely cleaned mud floors they wouldn’t even let Steve or I clean it up. They kept making sure I was alright, and when I started getting better they made food that would be good for my body, without being deepfried and some cooked vegetables. Their hospitality for this white foreigner was incredible. They made me feel like I was worth something and that it is true that every creature God created has a place. There love and caring will not soon be forgotten by me.
Philip.
A Bangladeshi Village Christmas
Christmas 2007 is a Christmas I will likely never forget. Instead of snow, Christmas decorations, trees, lights and cookies, there were mud houses, warm welcomes, banana trees, no electricity, and crepe-like sweets. Philip and I went with my friend Asheesh to visit his home village of Jolchatro in the Modhupur district of Bangladesh. His home, like all homes in the area, is a mud structure, without electricity and his father is a farmer. These poor, tribal farmers, are one of the few groups of Christians in Bangladesh, and hence, they are one of the few people to celebrate Christmas.
Christmas at Jolchatro had a distinctly Mandi touch. None of the traditional Christmas carols are sung, and the Christmas traditions are not similar to anything I have experienced before. We were joined by a group of Japanese from Dhaka, who were all living in Bangladesh and very proficient in their Bengali. We spent a few minutes learning Mandi greetings and sentences, while drinking tea and eating a snack. Then we went for a walk before returning only a mere hour later to eat a wonderful dinner prepared by Asheesh’s mother. After dinner late on Christmas eve, we went and were joined by a few more men and women and with a couple drums our group of 15 walked to a neighbouring house.
So began a tradition, which I thoroughly enjoyed. To call people into community, we started singing and dancing in the courtyard of the first house. And as the music rose, the family inside finished preparations, came out and joined the circle, after another song or two, we all moved on to the next house; and so again began the singing and dancing, until we could no longer fit into the courtyards of these tiny mud dwellings.
Singing and dancing was an experience of complete joy, here in the middle of impoverished Bangladesh. And dancing not individually but together, stepping in unison as we slowly twirled in a circle, letting our voices raise to heaven. This display of joy, happiness, and unity brought tears of joy to my eyes. These people, living in poverty we can hardly imagine, are always so seemingly happy, so joyful, and so ready for a party. They are ready to sing, to dance and to enjoy life to the fullest especially at this time of Christmas.
As midnight approached the large crowd dispersed and everyone changed into their Christmas finery and walked to Jolchatro Mission for midnight Mass. Midnight Mass was beautiful, candles lit up the room as the electricity in the room died and the room was plunged into a glorious half-light as people sang joyous songs to celebrate Christmas.
The following day, Christmas day, began a slow morning, very typical of village life in Bangladesh. And after much visiting and sitting in the warmth of the sun looking over the fields and banana trees. We went for lunch at another house. The meal consisted of meat, a rarity in poor families around the world, and not just meat, but pork. Pork is not eaten by Muslims and so it is virtually impossible to find in Bangladesh, and these rural Mandi villages are the only places I ever have the joy of eating pork. But on this day, the pork proved a little bit too much for me! For in celebration of Christmas day, they had cooked three different kinds of pork curries. These were eaten with everyone’s favourite food group, rice. Vegetables were nowhere to be found on the menu. By late afternoon, Philip and I were on our way back to Mymensingh in an overcrowded bus, and crashed early, neither of us particularly wanting dinner.
Christmas in Jolchatro was an experience not to be forgotten. It was not in any manner a stereotypical Christmas. But it was a Christmas filled with happiness, joy, dancing and new experiences. Merry Christmas to all, and a Happy New Year (from Nepal)!
Peace.
Steve.
Christmas at Jolchatro had a distinctly Mandi touch. None of the traditional Christmas carols are sung, and the Christmas traditions are not similar to anything I have experienced before. We were joined by a group of Japanese from Dhaka, who were all living in Bangladesh and very proficient in their Bengali. We spent a few minutes learning Mandi greetings and sentences, while drinking tea and eating a snack. Then we went for a walk before returning only a mere hour later to eat a wonderful dinner prepared by Asheesh’s mother. After dinner late on Christmas eve, we went and were joined by a few more men and women and with a couple drums our group of 15 walked to a neighbouring house.
So began a tradition, which I thoroughly enjoyed. To call people into community, we started singing and dancing in the courtyard of the first house. And as the music rose, the family inside finished preparations, came out and joined the circle, after another song or two, we all moved on to the next house; and so again began the singing and dancing, until we could no longer fit into the courtyards of these tiny mud dwellings.
Singing and dancing was an experience of complete joy, here in the middle of impoverished Bangladesh. And dancing not individually but together, stepping in unison as we slowly twirled in a circle, letting our voices raise to heaven. This display of joy, happiness, and unity brought tears of joy to my eyes. These people, living in poverty we can hardly imagine, are always so seemingly happy, so joyful, and so ready for a party. They are ready to sing, to dance and to enjoy life to the fullest especially at this time of Christmas.
As midnight approached the large crowd dispersed and everyone changed into their Christmas finery and walked to Jolchatro Mission for midnight Mass. Midnight Mass was beautiful, candles lit up the room as the electricity in the room died and the room was plunged into a glorious half-light as people sang joyous songs to celebrate Christmas.
The following day, Christmas day, began a slow morning, very typical of village life in Bangladesh. And after much visiting and sitting in the warmth of the sun looking over the fields and banana trees. We went for lunch at another house. The meal consisted of meat, a rarity in poor families around the world, and not just meat, but pork. Pork is not eaten by Muslims and so it is virtually impossible to find in Bangladesh, and these rural Mandi villages are the only places I ever have the joy of eating pork. But on this day, the pork proved a little bit too much for me! For in celebration of Christmas day, they had cooked three different kinds of pork curries. These were eaten with everyone’s favourite food group, rice. Vegetables were nowhere to be found on the menu. By late afternoon, Philip and I were on our way back to Mymensingh in an overcrowded bus, and crashed early, neither of us particularly wanting dinner.
Christmas in Jolchatro was an experience not to be forgotten. It was not in any manner a stereotypical Christmas. But it was a Christmas filled with happiness, joy, dancing and new experiences. Merry Christmas to all, and a Happy New Year (from Nepal)!
Peace.
Steve.
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