As part of our promotion drive for Romeo 4 Juliet, it was agreed that I should be taken to one of the region’s more far-flung small towns, and visit a school there. In fact, at one time, it was going to be a more extensive and time-consuming trip, but fortunately in the end it was agreed that it should just be for the one day. I was collected by the headmaster at 9 or so, and driven out on the back of his motor-bike, about a 45 minute trip.
I was not surprised to be greeted by a welcoming party of teachers and children – this was entirely normal. I was, however, somewhat more alarmed to see quite so many of the children bearing garlands of marigold flowers. And even more alarmed when it seemed all of them were going to be placed around my neck. And then more and more arrived. When it did become at last apparent that I was going to be having trouble breathing if this went on too long, a few, a very few, were removed. And at last, when I was allowed the sanctuary of the Headmaster’s office, the vast majority were taken from me.
I was taken on a small tour of the ground floor classrooms, from the nursery class of three-year-olds, up to those aged around six. And it provided a view of a graded system: the smallest were like any bunch of three-year-olds, but gradually other changes appeared as we worked our way along – more uniform, some small chairs, desks…
And then I was conducted upstairs, to their small hall. Again, normal procedure, but with distinct, and slightly alarming, differences. Usually, my target audience have been selected, being those who might best understand what I had to say. On this occasion, it seemed I was to address the whole school, who were waiting for me. And then even the little ones were trooped in (all bar the nursery class.) I am always aware that not all of what I had to say would be understood by everyone, but on this occasion I would guess that the front 80% had very little idea, with only the ones at the very back getting more than the odd few words.
Nonetheless, I went gamely on, with my more or less prepared stuff about me, the UK, Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet… And even the smallest ones were, in the circumstances, very well-behaved (though there was the normal nose-picking, private conversations, etc.) But eventually, I ground to a halt. I had not really been given any clear idea as to how long I was expected to continue, and when it was made apparent that more was required, I was mildly horrified. My watch is my trustiest tool, and I always try to gauge things so that I fill the time effectively. So a sudden unexpected (and still unknown) hour or so to fill was tricky. To say the least.
Fortunately, at this point the littlest ones were ushered out, which created some room. And I decided to run some practical Drama, using a select group of the oldest ones. Some pretty standard stuff – some mime work involving a ball, then a glass, the sort of thing I have used a hundred times before. And actually, I could have developed this strand a good bit, except once again I was not really sure how much time I had left, so brought it to a premature close. Only to discover they wanted a good bit more from me.
Luckily, Khadak, the headmaster, could see that I was floundering, so took over for a bit, giving a Nepali re-telling of my speech, and getting some of his students to attempt a recap of a piece of Drama they had presented some weeks before.
From that point on, it was all a bit of a mishmash, with contributions from both them and me – some singing, some dance, some mime, some drama. Until it was deemed that enough had been done, and we went outside for the more or less obligatory series of pictures. After which, there was something of an uncontrolled scrum in which I had to sign lots and lots of autographs. It all got a bit out of hand, actually – I had thought a teacher would step in sooner – but eventually someone insisted there be some sort of line.
Khadak then took me home to his house for lunch, which entirely unsurprisingly was much the same sort of thing as normal, but absolutely huge – I ate as much as I could manage, enough (I hope) not to appear rude. There was then just about enough time, on the back of his motorbike, to be taken on a short tour of the town, including to the local team playing football on a more or less open park, and then out to the temple which gives the school its name. Much like many others I have seen – a bit tatty and abandoned-looking, though he tells me weddings and other celebrations are still held there. And then we headed back to Dhangadhi – Khadak had promised me I would be back by 3, in time for rehearsals.
The journey back was, of course, equally long, and I did find myself getting rather sleepy. It had never occurred to me that this might happen while perched on the back of a motorbike, but presumably I might nod off and then topple off, but even when Khadak – presumably sensing the danger of this – offered to stop for some tea, I told him to carry on, as I could not afford to be late.
The rehearsal, and much associated with it, was stressful. I had to rush around getting last-minute printing done, and then the additional nightmare of finding the key to the Seminar Room, meaning several trips back and forth across the bridge. Even when that was resolved, I had hoped we had solved the problem of the missing Pujari – had I mentioned that Indra, the teacher who had taken on the role – had had to withdraw because of the serious illness – intensive care and the like – of his father? We thought we had managed to recruit someone else, but then that bombed out, when it seemed he was off on a tour of some sort, so was unavailable.
But although we did not do the additional scenes I had hoped we might, we did manage to rehearse the whole final section of the play, (Pujari excepted), though I did get very ratty at one point; I am finding it particularly difficult at present that I have no idea what they are saying. I have resigned myself to accepting I cannot direct their speech, but in addition I find myself not even knowing where in the script we are, so have problems directing the action as well. Ah well, apart from getting increasingly ratty, we did manage some progress.
