Monday morning, early!
I’m here in spectacular Phobjikha Valley, home to black-necked cranes, tigers, Himalayan black bear, leopards, boar, red fox, sambars, muntjaks, and lots of dogs. It’s the site of our first Bhutanese project with the Royal Society for Protection of Nature (RSPN).
Yesterday I drove here in a new pick-up truck with RSPN staff members Richen, Jigme, and Chetan. We stopped along the way for lunch and vegetable shopping and bought buckets of chilies, a Bhutanese favorite. An old woman who measured the red and green thumb sized fruits (veggies?) on old fashioned hand held scales. We also stopped for some peppery lettuce from a road side stand, where the attending father and daughter carefully wrapped a head in newspaper and informed us that they were not charging for the produce. When I asked why these people, who weren’t rich by any stretch, were giving their crops away, Richen shrugged and said, “It’s so normal in Bhutan. When we go to buy vegetables, if we only buy one thing, the farmer sometimes says, ‘It’s so little, just take it.’ People here give so much away...” Another example of Gross National Happiness in practice!
This morning, I’m finishing a breakfast of rice and beans (a standard the world over, like corn flakes, which have also been offered to me every morning). I’m waiting for Richen to come and help dress me. Tserling, another RSPN staff in Thimphu, took me shopping for a half kira to wear while I’m in the field. I’ve been told that the Bhutanese really like to see foreigners in Bhutanese traditional costume, though many visitors wear jeans, even to monasteries. So today I will break-out my ankle length wrap-around skirt to show some R-E-S, P-E-C-T!
Monday evening:
Sitting down to a warm fire and a cold “Druk 11000, Super Strong Beer!” The beer doesn’t seem strong, but I’m at 9,500 feet and I’ve been working since the crack of dawn, so I’d better write this fast, because, given time, the Druk (Dragon!) 11000 is going to sap me of my already limited cognitive abilities. Today was so full. I visited two monasteries and met with Phobjikha Valley’s governance board, which included two county “headmen,” the head of the agricultural unit, the head of the forestry unit, and the valley’s leaders of Bhutan’s opposing political parties. These opposition leaders are two middle aged women who are best friends. The national newspaper did an article on them last year, explaining how opposing political views should not cause friction. These ladies have been touted nationally for their exemplary Bhutanese behavior, serving as role models in promoting productive relationships between citizens with differing views.
Phobjikha Valley is absolutely glorious. “On the western slopes of the Black Mountains, bordering the Jigme Singye Wangchuch National Park, this valley is one of the most important wildlife preserves in the country,” reads my Lonely Planet Bhutan guide books. On this particular day, the sun filters through clouds that hem the valley, shining down on prayer flags whipped by winds. The songs of the three hundred cranes provide mood music as we walk through the hummocky wetlands to pay visits to the local people.
At the Gangte Goemba, we arrived at lunchtime (much to our embarrassment—so presumptuous!), and were guided to tables heaped with Bhutanese red rice, sliced pork fat, and ema datse—the ketchup of Bhutan—chilies and cheese. The food was delicious! The Khenpo (head lama) was incredibly friendly and wants very much to work on conservation. He has just started a nature club, but is hungry for activities, curricula and training. I’m meeting with him next week to follow-up, but I am thrilled to say, “we’ve got game in Bhutan!” This monastery is perfect to begin monastery eco-clubs and he is also quite keen on bringing in ecology studies. I left him with first aid kits and some over-the-counter medicine. Before I walked out into the cold sunshine, Khenpo had a band-aid on his finger. Not sure if it was for an old cut or just for decoration.
The Phobjikha Valley, in addition to its abundant wildlife, also provides a home to a potato farming community. According to local sources, once upon a time, a wild boar and a snake had a race to determine the crop that the valley could grow. If the snake won, the valley could grow rice; if the boar crossed the finish line first, the valley would grow potatoes. It seems that boar won. The valley now grows potatoes for export to India.
As the population has increased in Phobjikha and potato production has increased, chemical fertilizers and pesticides have found their way into the valley wetland, Bhutan’s largest. There is a real concern that these chemicals will destroy the crane habitat along with the valley’s drinking water. The valley residents understand the issue, but there is no market for organic potatoes in Bhutan or in Indian towns near the Bhutanese border. Without economic incentive, there is no interest in changing agricultural practices. But, there is one idea that Phobjikha’s Governing Board is eager to explore—organic potato chip production. They are very enthusiastic about producing organic potato chips and are eager for TTF to help them explore options. They feel that organic boutique potato chips might find a market in India and China. When I get back, I promised to convene our business committee and look into this idea—it seems very doable. Training and a market would encourage all of the valley farmers to go organic!
As is the issue with agricultural runoff, human waste is a huge issue in the valley. Sanitation is becoming an increasingly difficult issue and if I heard the word toilet once, I heard it a thousand times. I was told that the other valley monastery is desperate for green toilets for a dorm they are building in the middle of the wetland. When I asked why the structure was in the middle of the wetland, it was explained to me that the dorm is next to their monastery, also in the middle of the wetland. Why is this monastery in the middle of a wetland, I wondered. Well, it seems that about 600 years ago one of Bhutan’s most famous monks, Lama Drukpa Kunley, “the divine madman,” dreamed that a monastery should be built on this spot. And it was built here, about 600 years ago. I guess it’s hard to argue with a lama who blessed people with a wooden phallus, a practice that Lama Drukpa Kunley was famous for, and one that accounts for the penises painted on houses and shops throughout the country. And so I promised to research toilets and sanitation in wetland areas when I returned.
I’m taking my last sip of Druk 11000 and heading to bed. To sum up: This valley is so critical to the black necked crane, that if we could put some thought into altering farming methods, building composting toilets designed for areas of high water tables, training programs for the Khenpo and monks on water quality and wildlife conservation, and piggy-backing on active environmental education programs that RSPN has already rolled out, we could make Phobjikha a model community for harmonious human-wildlife relationships in critical habitat. Could be cool!
~ Betsy
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