Eleven months ago, as the house hummed to the sound of the oxygen machine and the stair lift rattled occasionally up and down, I would have thought it inconceivable that I should spend ten days in Nepal this October. Back then, the thought of trundling through Kathmandu's dusty streets, gasping with wonder at sunrise over the Himalayas, or soaring 1800 feet above a Nepali lake beneath a para-glider would have been the furthest thing from my mind. So why did I go?
In the last weeks before my #bravestandbest left me for a higher calling, we had talked often about her funeral. We discussed the songs to sing, the way things would be, and where any money raised in her name might go. On the latter, she was keen that it should go to a mission context - but was unsure where that should be.
When the time came to plan it- a good friend introduced me to the work of KISC Equip in Nepal. This remarkable project is taking great strides in introducing best practice to Nepali schools in every context from mountain villages to big cities. Staff, parents and students are learning how to learn all over again, and it is yielding fruit. Since Fiona had dedicated the last few years of her working life to helping others learn how to learn - it seemed like a good fit. On November 16th , some £1800 was raised for the project through the generous giving of family, friends and colleagues. A few weeks later, the idea was born of going to see the project for myself, accompanied by one of my sons and two beloved friends.
There are so many things which I shall remember about Nepal. I will remember the majestic mountains:
I will remember the lush green valleys:
I will remember the stunning colours everywhere
More than anything, though - I shall remember a morning visit to a tiny yellow school in the shadow of the Himalayas:
In that school, with its highly motivated head, its dedicated teachers, and its enthusiastic students - I caught a glimpse of what a project like KISC Equip can do. After a tour round the school, we paused for spiced coffee and biscuits beneath the fan in the Principal's office. With great ceremony, the visitor's book was passed to me to sign. As I picked it up, I made a slip of the hand I have never made in these past eleven months. I wrote "Richard, Fiona...". Maybe it was not a slip. Maybe it was because, as I told the school Principal, I could see her everywhere in that little school.
The legacy of my #bravestandbest lives on...
