Read Online Children of Dreams, An Adoption Memoir by Lorilyn Roberts - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lorilyn Roberts
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her.
“I’ll just eat the rice and skip the other stuff,” I told the cook. A salad with ranch dressing would have been wonderful. I picked up my bottled water, which I had gotten used to carrying with me, and took a sip. I felt fortunate that the restaurant had napkins. Nepalis didn’t use napkins. When they were finished eating, they just wiped their hands on their clothes.
As I spooned my rice out of the dirty bowl, the rats scurrying around provided a new form of entertainment. I wondered how my life could have gotten so turned upside down.
Later in the day, as we continued on our journey, we stopped to take pictures of Mount Everest. What was it like to see the highest point on the face of the earth? I thought of Psalm 112:9, “He has scattered abroad His gifts to the poor…” It was difficult to pull myself away from admiring its grandeur, knowing I would probably never see it again.
As I looked at its tall, jagged snow-covered tops, I couldn’t help but reflect on what precipice of danger might lay ahead of me. I felt like I was climbing my own Mount Everest. At least the mountain climbers and tourists brought in a measure of wealth and provided work for the Sherpas.
It wasn’t long before we arrived at the CDO’s office. As we waited for our turn, Ankit walked off to do something and I was left to myself. An old, pleasant man walked in and when he saw me waiting, he asked, “You speak English?”
“Yes, I do,” I said. “I am an American.”
His eyes lit up and he waved his hands like he wanted to talk. He sat down beside me and started speaking in English. I had not met anyone in Nepal that spoke fluent English. He must have been in his 70’s or 80’s. To run into an old man in a remote region of Nepal who spoke almost perfect English—when half the population couldn’t read or write—I didn’t think that was possible.
He had enlisted in the British army in Nepal during World War II. Over 200,000 Nepalese men served in Gurkha battalions and fought on every front with heroic valor. Over 25,000 died in the war.
“I haven’t spoken English in over fifty years,” he told me. He cleared his throat, and once he got started, he didn’t want to stop. For one day, he felt young again, as he reminisced about his service in the British army and spoke in a language he had almost forgotten.
I enjoyed listening to him. World War II had always piqued my interest and I love to hear people’s stories. Who would have thought I would spend an afternoon in the remotest regions of Nepal listening to an old soldier recount his days from World War II? We all have stories to tell. I was glad I got to hear his.
Manisha and her father had stayed outside the building. They did not need to come into the CDO’s office this time since the Officer had previously met them. Eventually Ankit returned and my name was called.
This time it was different. The CDO was excited to see us. He smiled and cordially invited us in. Today we were his guests and a male attendant brought us hot, spicy tea. I worried about the quality of the water, but wanting to follow proper etiquette, I took a sip. It was pretty tasty.
He continued to pour over the rest of my papers. He laughed at a comment by my boss. She said in my work reference I was a very talented person. I believe he read every single word.
At last he gathered up the papers and sent us downstairs to another area where we had to talk to someone else. The man rifled through the documents and seemed unable to find something.
Suddenly he asked, “Where is your home study?”
I had fortuitously made an extra copy and packed both along with my six sets of other documents. If I had not made the second copy, they would not have been able to seal the first one. It would have meant going back to Kathmandu to make one copy of the Home Study, requiring a third trip over the mountains to Janakpur. As much as I enjoyed the beauty, I didn’t want to make the trip a third time.
“I’ll just eat the rice and skip the other stuff,” I told the cook. A salad with ranch dressing would have been wonderful. I picked up my bottled water, which I had gotten used to carrying with me, and took a sip. I felt fortunate that the restaurant had napkins. Nepalis didn’t use napkins. When they were finished eating, they just wiped their hands on their clothes.
As I spooned my rice out of the dirty bowl, the rats scurrying around provided a new form of entertainment. I wondered how my life could have gotten so turned upside down.
Later in the day, as we continued on our journey, we stopped to take pictures of Mount Everest. What was it like to see the highest point on the face of the earth? I thought of Psalm 112:9, “He has scattered abroad His gifts to the poor…” It was difficult to pull myself away from admiring its grandeur, knowing I would probably never see it again.
As I looked at its tall, jagged snow-covered tops, I couldn’t help but reflect on what precipice of danger might lay ahead of me. I felt like I was climbing my own Mount Everest. At least the mountain climbers and tourists brought in a measure of wealth and provided work for the Sherpas.
It wasn’t long before we arrived at the CDO’s office. As we waited for our turn, Ankit walked off to do something and I was left to myself. An old, pleasant man walked in and when he saw me waiting, he asked, “You speak English?”
“Yes, I do,” I said. “I am an American.”
His eyes lit up and he waved his hands like he wanted to talk. He sat down beside me and started speaking in English. I had not met anyone in Nepal that spoke fluent English. He must have been in his 70’s or 80’s. To run into an old man in a remote region of Nepal who spoke almost perfect English—when half the population couldn’t read or write—I didn’t think that was possible.
He had enlisted in the British army in Nepal during World War II. Over 200,000 Nepalese men served in Gurkha battalions and fought on every front with heroic valor. Over 25,000 died in the war.
“I haven’t spoken English in over fifty years,” he told me. He cleared his throat, and once he got started, he didn’t want to stop. For one day, he felt young again, as he reminisced about his service in the British army and spoke in a language he had almost forgotten.
I enjoyed listening to him. World War II had always piqued my interest and I love to hear people’s stories. Who would have thought I would spend an afternoon in the remotest regions of Nepal listening to an old soldier recount his days from World War II? We all have stories to tell. I was glad I got to hear his.
Manisha and her father had stayed outside the building. They did not need to come into the CDO’s office this time since the Officer had previously met them. Eventually Ankit returned and my name was called.
This time it was different. The CDO was excited to see us. He smiled and cordially invited us in. Today we were his guests and a male attendant brought us hot, spicy tea. I worried about the quality of the water, but wanting to follow proper etiquette, I took a sip. It was pretty tasty.
He continued to pour over the rest of my papers. He laughed at a comment by my boss. She said in my work reference I was a very talented person. I believe he read every single word.
At last he gathered up the papers and sent us downstairs to another area where we had to talk to someone else. The man rifled through the documents and seemed unable to find something.
Suddenly he asked, “Where is your home study?”
I had fortuitously made an extra copy and packed both along with my six sets of other documents. If I had not made the second copy, they would not have been able to seal the first one. It would have meant going back to Kathmandu to make one copy of the Home Study, requiring a third trip over the mountains to Janakpur. As much as I enjoyed the beauty, I didn’t want to make the trip a third time.
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