A Better School at Ponru

by Pamela Logan

Contents:
* nighttime trek to reach the school
* improvements made to Ponru
* difficult conditions
* rewards for the volunteers

It was dusk on the last day of September, after four days and 11 hours on the road, when we spotted the hydroelectric station at Yiniu Township.  The station was the signal to turn off the paved highway to follow a faint track across the well-grazed pasture.  Already over 4000 meters above sea level, we started climbing higher, heading up-valley. 

The ground was treacherous, and the sky was darkening.  After fifteen minutes of painstaking navigation among squishy hummocks, our driver declared that he dared drive no further.  We got out of the bus. Rain spattered from a slate-gray sky.  Freezing wind blew over us, with nary a tree or even a bush to slow it down.   The only habitation in sight were a few mud huts of herdsmen.  We could not even see Ponru School, our destination.  I didn't know it then, but the school was 8 km away.

My team of eight foreign volunteers and three Kham Aid regulars got busy unloading the baggage. It made quite a large pile on the ground. We had sleeping bags and pads and personal items for twelve people, food for a week, dishes and utensils, a big medical kit, a frightfully heavy toolbox, gifts for the children at Ponru, and - crucial on any expedition checklist - two big packages of toilet paper.  Luckily, our work materials - cement, timber, paint and whatnot - had been delivered earlier.  Still, it was a lot to haul.

Kilung Rinpoche, founder of the Ponru School, was in a jeep that had come out to meet us. The jeep could get over the terrain easily, but it couldn't hold more than two people and a sixth of the bags at one time.  Night was falling fast.  What to do?

"No problem," declared the volunteers.  "We'll walk!"  Two offered to stay behind and guard the baggage pile while the jeep shuttled to and fro.  The other volunteers strapped on their backpacks.  It was so darn cold, everyone wanted to be moving.  We set off at a brisk pace.

Two hours, eight kilometers, and three jeep-shuttles later, the last stragglers arrived at Ponru in inky blackness.  By the glare of jeep headlights, I could make out a line of children calling to us and waving white silk khatas (scarves).  The children had been waiting for hours.  They sang and applauded and cheered their welcome.  Two of them grabbed my hands and escorted me indoors. 

This year's Better Homes project took us to Sershul County.  Sershul, the locals will tell you, has five "mosts." It is the farthest, the highest, the biggest, the coldest, and the poorest county in Ganzi Prefecture.  It is, therefore, a place of great need.  We were asked to lend a hand toward fixing up Ponru School, which serves an entirely nomad population.

The next day, we jumped right into our work in improving the school. The building was an L-shaped long-house made of clay-covered stone - different from the wooden buildings my teams had worked on in the past.  There were 31 children and two teachers at the school, but they needed a lot of space: one classroom, five dormitories, two teacher apartments, a kitchen, storage room, and toilet, about 170 square meters in all.

The classroom chalkboard: before and after - with artist decorating the newly painted walls..

I had sent money for the roof to be repaired before of our visit.  Nevertheless, years of leaks, as well as settling, had already taken a toll on the walls.  Cracks were everywhere, and one ran right through the center of the blackboard.  Windowsills were crumbling.  Whitewash had flaked off, leaving big brown scars.  Fixing the walls would be our biggest job. 

Doka, who normally works for Kham Aid on our medical aid program but somehow got shanghaied into participating in Better Schools, directed our wall repair efforts.  Within an hour of assessing the damage, we were already stuffing clay into the cracks.

There was plenty of other work, too.  The school had electricity but few working lights, wiring was poor or nonexistent, and many rooms lacked switches.  In the school's sixteen rooms, there was hardly a door or window that closed properly.  When the wind blew - as it often did - glass panes rattled in their frames.  The interior timber was bare wood; exterior paint was badly faded.  The path to the toilet was a muddy track, and at night the lightless toilets were perilous to use.

I had eleven workers on my team, plus some local Tibetans that we hired, and there was plenty to keep us busy.  In no time, we were ripping open sacks of whitewash and cement, and opening cans of paint. 

Outside, the weather was fiercely cold, with rain or snow or hail nearly every day.  But we fought off the cold with hard work and good spirits, side by side with the local Tibetans whom we all soon knew by name.  When ever a problem appeared, the volunteers devised a solution.  They weather-stripped doors and windows using cloth bought from the local monastery.    Instead of stakes, they used rocks to prop up the timber forms for our concrete walkway.  They improvised a damper for a smokey stove.  And when the weather turned bad in the middle of cement-pouring, they laughed their way through the snow.

At night we retired to Ponru Monastery, next door to the school.  Our rooms were the cells of a newly-completed retreat center, intended for monks' meditation.  Our beds were camping mats on bare wooden floors, the walls were unadorned clay, there was no heat of any kind, nor an indoor toilet, nor running water either hot or cold.  Many of us suffered from insomnia due to the high elevation.  However, when daybreak came, everyone rose without complaint and went cheerfully to work.

After five long days, our catalog of good deeds ran thus:  Cracks and holes in the walls of seven rooms fixed with clay and cement.  New whitewash applied to the classroom walls, two teacher's rooms, four dormitories, and Douglas's shoes.  Exterior trim painted in bright colors.  Interior trim painted in seven rooms.  Classroom ceiling painted in two colors.  More than one hundred panes of window-glass caulked and sealed.  Six new panes of window class installed to replace broken ones.  Lights installed in the classroom (6), toilets (2), pantry (1), kitchen (1), and yard (1), all with wires neatly fastened to the walls.  Three nonworking lights repaired.  Nineteen small switches and three large "Frankenstein" switches installed.  The kitchen stove was de-smoked.  The chalkboard was repaired and remade with special black paint.  A timber bookcase was built and painted and installed in the classroom. Twelve doors and windows were refitted so they would close properly.  The cook's helper, a deaf lady named Nyimu, received new windows in her house and also a cat-door.  Holes in the wooden doors throughout the school sealed, as well as holes between the men's and women's toilets.  Illnesses in two local ladies and one baby treated.  A rubbish pit dug.  Oral hygiene lessons given to fifteen children.  Toys, toothbrushes, and other gifts distributed throughout the school.  As a crowning touch, a local artist painted glorious Buddhist designs on the classroom walls.

Most vital of all was the contribution of Wu Bangfu, Kham Aid's fearless field director.  He cooked nine five-course meals for twelve people!

When it was all over, we had a party in the "new" classroom, with singing and dancing in four languages.  Then followed a full day of pleasure: an impromptu soccer game with the children, visits to nomad tents, and then a grand galloping horseback ride across the Sershul grasslands. The days culminated with a visit to Kilung Monastery, where we sat in the grand reception room of Kilung Rinpoche and were treated to a feast.  

Here are the volunteers that made the work at Ponru School so successful: Jen and Will Kozicki (USA), Joe and Tammy Deets (USA), Chien Hoong Gooi (Malaysia), Douglas House (Australia), Earl Stirling (USA), Mardi Jackson (USA), Doka (Kham).  The team was assisted and supported by Wu Bangfu (Kham), and Tashi Dorjee (Kham).

See also: Mardi Jackson's GREAT photos