OCT-B-10

A SECOND CLINIC DAY IN SIKKIM,

AGAIN TREATING LEPCHA TRIBAL PATIENTS

IN THE “LOWER JUNGLE” FROM MANGAN,

BEFORE GOING ON TO GANGTOK,

CAPITAL OF SIKKIM

OCTOBER 13, 2003

I got up early, while it was still dark, and I put on my clothes and loaded up the camera gear I had intended to take with me on a mission on foot. Instead of running this morning, I was going to go up the road to the point at which I had seen the magnificent view of the Kanchenchunga Mountains yesterday. The Lepcha administrator had told me that at 5:00 AM one could see the first light of a maroon and blue, then changing to gold, then to silver, then finally to white—before it would go on to a probable whiteout with the rising clouds as the dawn came to the valleys below it. He had captures this all on video from purple to white by going there the other day, and I decided to do the same. So, I had each camera ready, and walked outside into—a thick pea soup fog. There was no way I was going to see the mountain , whatever color it might be changing to above the thick wet atmosphere here below.

So, I came back in and packed and then tried to de-bug this laptop which is constantly “saving” a “corrupted text” always substituting it for whatever I have attempted to save. Trying to open the file then crashes the entire system with a note that “Word must now shut down” and an apologetic note “The prior attempt to open this file caused a ‘serious fault’ in the computer last time—are you sure you want to try it again?”—then the crash, as if to add—“I told you so!”

Today we go to the “lower jungle” of the Lepcha people and we will have all our stuff (in my case, not very much given that I wear the same thing every day that I had flown to India wearing, since my bag and all its supplies are still marooned in Kolkata and probably are forever irretrievable.) So, we will leave from the clinic to day to go to the comparative luxury of a “big city” hotel—that is, Gangtok, the capital of Sikkim, and the Tibetan Hotel there. So, I may get both the shower and electricity I have been seeking for quite a few days now, and that may be the golden pot at the end of the rainbow—the kind of advantage of civilization that surely must be worth submerging pristine beautiful valleys and washing away unique cultural historic remnants!

AN ACCIDENTAL TOUR DOWNRIVER TO THE

“LOWER DZUNGU VALLEY” LEPCHA VILLAGE OF PHIDANG,

BUT WITH AN ERRANT TAXI DRIVER WHO KNOWS NO ENGLISH NOR THE WAY TO PHIDANG,

WE GET A TOUR OF THE WATERFALLS, BRIDGES,

AND NEW HYDROELECTRIC DAM CONSTRUCTION SITE

OF DIKCHU

With a washout of the mountain views expected early this morning, we had a breakfast that was tardy with all the baggage loaded to make the onward trip after clinic with us to Gangtok. We took off in four vehicles, with three of us in a mini-can with a driver who was following at some distance as we left the Mangan village. Soon we were driving directly toward the Rangrang Bridge, and I pulled out my cameras, eager to take a picture of the highest bridge in Asia. He gave the side ways shake of the head with the eyes rolled as if to say “Of course!” and drove even faster at the only view points from which I could have photographed the arch bridge over the deep chasm of the Teesta River. He continued when I would speak to him, always giving the assent sign as if agreeing to everything I said. Now, I asked him the name of the village we were going to, which no one else knew this morning when we had asked Hem. He again gave what you would think to be the sign of the Negative—but in India is uniformly viewed as an assent—the side ways shake of the head. That was a bad sign, since that is all the response he ever made to anything I said further in such good old English words as “Stop”, “Turn Around”, “Go Back.” He continued to agree with each statement, and never understood one word in English, or the Hindi phrase book we pulled out to communicate with him.

Christine needed to stop to pee, so we told him to stop for this purpose, and he agreed, again, with the shake of the head. But when he did not stop at the third request, I took the wheel and pulled the emergency break. This was the only thing that slowed us down since he had the habit of getting wonderfully good gas mileage; by always turning off the key when we were rolling downhill, as we were most of the time on steep switchbacks. He even tried to pass an army convoy truck loaded with troops, passing without being under engine power! Now that is economy driving! I had preferred that he be under a little more control, including knowing where we were going.

We went through very bumpy road washouts, usually caused by landslides at the site of spectacular waterfalls. I tried to shoot photos of them, but he would usually speed up when we reached them, so I have some pictures of his dashboard and ceiling of the minivan as it bounced. We passed over the Rangrang Bridge, which is downstream from where the tributaries to the Teesta enter, and is a deep chasm. There are army posted there so that the sign which says “Photography not allowed” did not help in my attempts to shoot a photo of Asia’s alleged highest bridge. But we passed next to another suspension bridge in which Christine sang out “Oh, there are our other jeeps and the gang all in their Himalayan Health tee-shirts!” He again swung his head in the assent as we cheerfully rolled downhill under no power other than gravity. We kept going and crossed the Dikchu Bridge and we saw several spectacular waterfalls one of which probably gave this place its name since “Chu” means “Falls.” It is now famous for another reason however, and that is it is the site of the monster hydroelectric dam that will flood this beautiful canyon and the schools and villages we were passing by. We went through the village of Dikchu, which has a canopy banner stretched over the road, proudly announcing “Sexually Transmitted Diseases Can Be Cured!” a rare fining among the population we have been treating, so it may be a single example of encouraging the disease on the basis of its curability in a culture that might not have thought of contracting this group of illnesses to begin with.

TURNAROUND AND BEGIN ANEW AT

PHIDANG, THE LAST OF OUR SIKKIM CLINIC VISITS,

COMPLETING OUR 1600 PATIENT TOUR OF

THE EASTERN HIMALAYAS

When we finally got him to turn around, it was at the site of the Jaiprash Industries Construction Company, a group that I curiously got to know as the same construction crew with whom I had bunked in their “Annapurna” in the Sangla Kinnaur Valley big hydroelectric construction around the clock project. I took a few photos of this site as the big diversion tunnels were already cutting the river through deep rock tunnels and the heavy equipment trucks were shuttling away the blasted rock rubble—the remnant of the earth’s upheaval when the subcontinent slammed into Asia and caused this massive buckle. When we went through Dikchu on the return we passed it to see the bridge we had remarked before, and there were all our group spread out under blue plastic tarps against the sun (although they acted as sails in the high wind) and impatiently awaiting our return since we had all the medicine.

We saw about two hundred patients in a crowded rush at the Police Station of Phidang ( I know that “dang” means “the place of,” but no one could tell me what “Phi” represented). We worked steadily and then closed up around 2:00 PM after a brief lunch break. After another two hours of mandatory photos for the local group and a lot of packing up and farewells, we finally go on the road to travel down the soon-to-be-dammed Teesta River—as festooned with waterfalls as the Columbia River Canyon in Oregon, but these were falling from higher levels and in greater volume, often washing out the road way beneath them.

Phidang is the “Lower Dzungu Valley” enclave of the Lepcha, so when combined with the upper jungle of the prior day at Namiprakidang we have seen most of the population of the Lepcha in their places of residence, except for those who have moved out to brave the world outside—as far as Kalim Pong—to learn a language that they don onto use at home. PHID is 27* 24.45 N, and 88* 30.31 E, making it 701 miles from Delhi at bearing 279* but only 196 miles from Kathmandu at bearing 277*. Just for information, PHID is 7,742 miles from Derwood’s (NEW) front door at 348*--just west of the North Pole over the top.

We had the usual adventures in transit, along the steep mountain roads with oncoming traffic on the one-lane high hazard, now guard rail roads in switchbacks up the steep mountain sides. Right of way goes to the upclimbing vehicle, so our convoy was favored for the up slope but had to back off when we tapered down. We staggered in to Gangtok, Sikkim’s capital, after dark around 7:00 PM and checked into the Hotel Tibet—a definite luxury, since I have a private room with both electricity and hot water since the bellhop “turned on the geezer”—and I took the first shower in two weeks since I left Gaithersburg!

We have all rallied at the dinner table in the Snow Lion restaurant in the Hotel Tibet and we gorged on a Chinese dinner consisting of the first real meat we had seen in the two weeks, mainly in the momos which are Chinese dumplings. We will be here until about 11:00 AM tomorrow giving us time to see a little of the capital and also try, try again at sending an email message—a task that has frustrated me for over ten days since I had left Delhi and the Ajanta Hotel. I should have a complete message to send by the time I can connect!

Tomorrow we will convoy off to Darjeeling, a name you recognize and consider to be epynonamous with tea. I will tell you if I get the real thing after two weeks of nearly continuous “Chai” breaks!

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