Those sane and rational amongst you (which I believe to be all 5 of you) would be so easily forgiven for thinking that just-one had simply ceased to exist or that my three typing fingers had been horribly mangled in an unfortunate encounter with a rusty juicing machine… Thankfully, I can report that neither are, in fact, the case! It will, however, be somewhat more difficult for me to explain the utterly shameful 50-week silence that’s seen an embarrassing layer of Kathmandu’s finest dust settle on this here sad excuse for a blog… Even taking account of my poor blogging record thus far, such an extended breakdown in regular communication with our valued donors and all others interested in our on-going work, is nothing short of indefensible… As honest and all as it may well be, I don’t feel my often used “not enough hours in the day, nor days in the week” tag-line fits the bill here and hope that a sincere “Sorry!” will be sufficient for now, as I try to pick up where I left off all that time ago…

Wow! Where does one start? So much has happened… So much has changed… And strangely so much is still the same… The biggest change we’ve gone through since I last wrote was what I think we should refer to as “The Great Move of 2010″ which, thanks partially to a newly arrived (but both persistent and persuasive, with regard to our landlord) not-in-my-backyard neighbour, saw just-one‘s entire humble operation loaded onto the back of a couple of battered old pick-up trucks late last October and relocated from our leafy suburban home of three years to our new home on the dusty streets of Khusibu just in time to celebrate the festival of light. Proximity to the endless combination of smells from the nearby river, cremation ghat and buffalo abattoir aside, our new base is, in fact, far more homely and much better suited to the actual needs of our Transit Home. I imagine if we manage to persuade to our lovely landlord (a somewhat rare breed of property owner who recognised the value of our work and kindly agreed to a more than fair rental price) to help us address our current water problems (a frustrating combination of hidden leaks, stubborn damp-patches and an on-going chronic shortages), we may well have found a place to call home for many years to come!

just-one's new residential transit home located in Khusibu, Kathmandu.

Though not officially marked by any means (and yet to be declared a national holiday in any country of the world ;o) the 7th anniversary of our existence was appropriately celebrated with the wonderful news that each of the four students we supported through their School Leaving Certificate at the beginning of the year passed through, what is referred to in Nepal as, the Iron Gate with flying colours – one with Distinction and the other three in the 1st Division! Perhaps somewhat indicative of just some of the problems facing Nepal’s education system that one of these young scholars has already managed to secure a full-time teaching job at a primary school in his locality! We are proud too to be supporting the remaining three students to further their studies in their individual areas of interest – Education, Science and Humanities. I’ll be the first to admit that it’s instances such as this which makes much of the incredible hardship, stress and sadness we face day after day seem so absolutely worthwhile. The proud smile on the face of the once 11 year old domestic servant boy, when he dropped by the office to say hello after his first day at college a few weeks ago, is something that each and every individual who has ever supported our work, has every right to enjoy the glowing warmth of.

Though the midnight oil is burning low here and load-shedding threatens to see the electricity go off at the stroke of the hour, I feel after such a long absence of news I should also include brief updates on a couple of the kids I wrote about in some of the previous blog entries last year.

Surya Limbu is now happily living at home with his family and is so dramatically changed from the strung-out and gaunt figure who stumbled into our office last year, that it’s his own strength of character which must take a bow for the transformation he’s gone through, over any particular aspect of our intervention and assistance. He’s still not too keen on returning to formal education (although facebook chat has been surprisingly useful in at least sparking his interest in becoming more literate) and currently working as a cycle delivery boy while we await a hair-stylist training course he’s signed up for to start after the Hindu festivals of Dashain and Tihar end in a couple of months. While Surya certainly still has ‘his moments‘ (which, at ’15 going on 36′, are not to be unexpected), he does seem to have made the important realisation that the making or breaking of his future lies primarily with him – something which we try (with varying levels of success) to help all of the children we support to understand – and, thankfully, he’s currently operating mostly in ‘making’ mode!

We also managed to make some progress with Bijay over last monsoon but, sadly, it wasn’t to last and, with his brothel buddies caring for him about as much as you’d expect, he was back on a downward spiral on the streets by the time Winter kicked in and apparently surviving on a diet consisting mostly of chemical cocktails. We had lost all contact with him until about 6 weeks ago, when one of the staff got an unexpected phone call from him asking if he could come to visit… He came by our office with his brother-in-law, his young rehab-mentor and the updated story that, thankfully, by the time Spring was setting in, his exasperated family had forcefully admitted him to a secure rehabilitation centre in the hills north of the city where he has remained since. Aside from a completely characteristic jail-break at the end of his first month there (which reminded us of the night he locked himself into a toilet at just-one and made a daring exit via a scarily flimsy 3rd floor drain pipe…), which he returned from with two new tattoos that “he needed to get before he became good”, he is now over 4 months into a 1 year programme and had come to ask if just-one could help him once he’d completed that. It’s certainly early days in Bijay’s story too, but we did allow ourselves to take a certain amount of pride in the fact that, of all the organisations he could have asked for this future support, he chose to ask us. Perhaps it was simply that our senior field-working social worker’s phone number was the only one he knew off by heart; or maybe he just foolishly dreams of the freedom offered by our toilet window (though, even with a pickaxe and goggles, at our new place he’d be escaping into our neighbour’s living room ;o); but there’s a chance too that he’s recognised our sincerity in offering to help him in whatever way we can to be the beautiful person that he is… Let’s see, eh?

Anyway, it’s already past silly o’clock here and Kathmandu’s dawn chorus will be keeping me from my required sanity-sleep if I don’t head in that direction sometime soon… Apologies again for such a ridiculously long silence here – I think the cascade of words above probably show that it’s certainly not from want of things to write about! How about I promise to work on my time-management and prioritisation skills and, in return, you take a quick look at this page and consider becoming one of the unsung heroes who occasionally get to drop by here and know that (despite my failure so far to make this website as good as it should be…) they are an absolutely crucial part of something very, very special.

Clonakilty… almost as strange a sounding place as Kathmandu, wouldn’t you say? Born and raised there as I was (Clonakilty that is, not Kathmandu), perhaps I was destined early on for a life in oddly named destinations…? Regardless, that is (as they might say back in my native West Cork) neither here nor there! Light years away from the random chaos of Kathmandu though it may be, this vibrant little seaside town perched on the south-west coast of Ireland shares a little-known but still very special link with the Himalayan capital from where I type these random words. A significant proportion (which I sincerely hope is the diplomatic way of saying almost all ;o) of just-one‘s funding just so happens to come directly from this very special place!

The beginning of the end of the 2010 'just-one weekend' in Clonakilty.

It’s funding that continues to come, as it has since 2004, from a truly incredible community of people whose fantastic support has been the life blood of just-one since our earliest beginnings. Sure, as our work in Nepal has evolved and grown, word of our existence has reached ever-further and our support base slowly spreads through more and more countries. Much-needed support for our work, whether it comes from Knockskeagh, Kilkenny or Kentucky, is always greatly appreciated… It’s just that this home-grown support somehow inspires and humbles me more than any other.

The weekend just gone, for example, saw my home town host an entire weekend of great gigs in support of just-one, which was kindly organised by a trio of young locals who had seen our work in Kathmandu first-hand and returned to Ireland determined to help. An amazing weekend, by all accounts, and an equally amazing feat of fund-raising which will allow us to do so much valuable work out here. To the organisers, the proprietors, the participants, the punters and all others who came together to make it all work, the growing family that is just-one sends its most sincere and grateful thanks.

It goes without saying that the same thanks goes to all others too who have supported us in the past and kindly continue to do so despite (and perhaps in spite of) the on-going economic difficulties back there – whether it’s the buckets of coppers collected by an ever-growing army of socially-conscious school students, or the family generously committed to a regular donation via standing order (our preferred donation method for Irish residents, as opposed to the on-line method best for international donors), or the pensioner who selflessly puts more than he or she can comfortably afford into a collection tin, or one of the better established local charities who kindly share their valuable funds with us, or the local company who willing donate their stock or services to help further our cause, or the brave young woman who’s prepared to jump out of a plane or run a marathon on our behalf, or the young lads willing to shave their trendy locks, or any one of countless other ways which various groups and individuals, be they from Clonakilty or far beyond, who have kindly helped us prove beyond reasonable doubt that it really doesn’t take much to make a difference.

Keep the support coming and we’ll keep doing what we do as best we can. Spread the word of just-one, help increase our support and we’ll endeavour to do even more!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Almost five and a half years ago, late in the Monsoon of 2004, I had the pleasure of meeting with Arjun Mahat for the first time. I have to be honest here and admit that I don’t remember the exact date, or even what day of the week it was, but the one thing that I will never forget is the beautiful smile he shared with me that morning when we first met in the Cardiology ward at Kanti Children’s Hospital in Kathmandu.

Arjun on the day I first met him at Kanti Children's Hospital in 2004

It was only a few months after I had moved to Nepal to begin the work of just-one, when I was approached by David Cotran, an American medical student doing his internship at the hospital, who had heard of the fledgling work I was involved in and enquired as to whether or not I might be able to offer some much needed help to a young patient he had come to know during his time at the hospital.

Under the benevolent care of Dr. Narayan Basnet, one of the hospital’s top paediatric cardiologists, twelve year old Arjun had received the months of treatment required for his serious heart condition and was well enough to be discharged. The tragic death of his father a few years previously though, and the subsequent disappearance of his mother, left the young Mr. Mahat with no relatives to whom he wanted to be released to the care of – a fact which left hospital administration with a problem that they needed help to solve.

Making our first departure from children of purely street or working backgrounds, just-one was extremely pleased to be able to help this remarkably brave boy have the happy childhood that he so rightly deserved. With the incredibly generous support of the Poudel family in Pokhara, close Nepali friends of mine who ran Peace-Eye Guesthouse in Lakeside, Arjun found himself a new home and thrived on the new-found love and support he received there.

In early Spring of 2005, following unexpected complications with his heart condition, Arjun received the life-saving intervention of Dr. Rajip Rajbhandari at Shahid Gangalal Heart Centre in Kathmandu and, with a successfully widened mitral valve, was given a whole new lease of life. The kind assistance of his paternal grandfather and uncles, who we had luckily located to sign the required medical consent forms, allowed us to provide Arjun the post-operation gift of finally being re-united with his little sister, Yashoda, whom he had spoken of so dearly from the very first morning I met him.

Smiling his beautiful smile, Arjun returned in triumph to Pokhara and set about introducing Yashoda to the new life of happiness and security he managed to create for himself and caringly invited her to share in with him. Over the years that followed, both Arjun and Yashoda blossomed and grew – becoming important and much loved members of the community whose collective heart was captured by these two beautiful children. Sadly though, this story doesn’t have the happy ending that anyone to have ever encountered either of them would have hoped for…

One week ago today, in the early morning of Tuesday, December 8^th 2009, Arjun quietly passed away, following a final three-day battle with his illness which he bravely fought with the expert assistance of the staff at Manipal Teaching Hospital in Pokhara. The boy with a broken heart has left his worries behind and in his wake countless broken hearts now suffer the grief-filled sorrow of his unexpected and early passing. The happy-ever-after ending that seemed so firmly in his grasp is now, sadly, forever altered and never to be written.

While Yashoda mourns the sad loss of her older brother, his adopted family has lost a much-loved member; his teachers at Tal Barahi School – a hard-working student; his school-mates there – a loyal friend; the local Scout Master – his right-hand man; his scout troop – their charming leader; the medical community – a loveable patient; the just-one family – an inspirational young man; his kinsfolk – a little-known yet truly remarkable son. So many who had the fortunate privilege of being part of Arjun’s short life must now mourn his sudden passing, but can take comfort in the countless beautiful memories that he has kindly left with each of us. Though raw and painful now, let’s hope these memories, with time, will become as happy as his smile once was.

Please, smile a beautiful smile in memory of a beautiful young man – Arjun.