As I had been due to visit the Everest School twice, but had twice been thwarted by events, it was arranged that I (accompanied by Val and Mary) would go today. Val was understandably convinced that they would be late picking us up, so had almost ordered cappuccinos when the car arrived. It was a short drive to the school, and on this occasion no formal welcome – I have had the full range during my various school visits. We were then offered tea, which seemed to take an age to come – it always does in Nepal, presumably because they have to boil the milk etc. And then we were taken into the small hall, where we were introduced to a group of about fifty of their more senior pupils, including most of the cast from yesterday’s performance.
As usual, we were introduced to the pupils, this time including Val and Mary; there was an audible “ooh” when it was mentioned that she was a doctor. And then I gave my short introductory speech, explaining where I come from (geographically) as well as where I come from (artistically.) And then I invited those members of the cast who were there – there was an exam, apparently – to come forward for a short display lesson. We started with a warm-up – shaking etc – and then some mime: the usual stuff, balls, cups. There were a few improvisations, in which they had to be coaxed away from using English, presumably for my benefit, because it was seriously stilting their creative flow. And then I tried an old favourite, which I have avoided all the time I have been here, since it demands a higher level confidence. It is called The Park Bench, and basically provides a framework for a series of characters to enter and exit, interacting with whoever is left on stage. This was excellent, as they had the confidence really to go for some comic interaction, which I both understood completely and not a word, both at the same time. But it reminded me how exciting and entertaining spontaneous improvisation can be.
I had a brief chat afterwards, about their own performance, and asking them about R4J. About which they were (to me) surprisingly critical; so much for dazzling untutored audiences. But then we were taken for lunch in town by the deputy headmaster, who was great, both perceptive and welcoming. There was, of course, far too much food, but we ate enough not to appear ungrateful. Mary and I are both heartily sick of Indian/Nepalese food, are longing for bread, potatoes…
In the afternoon, there was a sort of farewell party in Aparna’s office, with the cast there to say goodbye, to eat cake, to take photos (of course!) to present certificates to them, and receive presents for ourselves – chiefly a framed group photo. (I have my doubts about getting it home, but we shall see.)
And then it was to Aparna’s for a farewell dinner. There was the usual confusion about who was coming and how they would get there; luckily Yogi was brought by N Jitu, the guy in charge of providing the lighting. Not someone I had previously had all that much to do with, but Aparna assured me he was keen to drink beer with me, so we had equipped ourselves with a few cans. Despite these preparations, I was almost convinced we would not see him, so it was a real pleasure when he turned up (Yogi riding pillion.) It became really quite a jolly party, all the more so when it quickly became apparent that neither N Jitu nor Yogi could cope with much beer, and were therefore far more entertaining. As has been observed before, when Nepali men get drunk, they tend to start speaking English, and this was clearly the case with Gita, who spoke barely a word of English, but was soon conveying the fact that he had never seen the kids at SPA brought together quite so profoundly.
Eventually, we were able to extract ourselves, despite the fact that, though there had been plenty of snacks, dinner itself had not yet been served. But we were desperate to ensure we were not locked out on this, our final night, so insisted we had to leave, and did in fact get a taxi to come and get us, and back home, in good time. It had been a splendid evening, as good a way of saying goodbye to Aparna, to Yogi, to Dhangadhi, as we could have hoped.
