MAOISTS AND SAFARIS.

Early this morning we set out, accompanied by Tess and Maya, to do something touristy.......a three day safari to Chitwan National Park. We climbed aboard a tourist bus, which gradually filled up until we were squashed into every seat. The Japanese tourist complained because someone was sitting in their numbered seat. None of us, including the driver realised there were numbers. Sure enough there were little numbers painted on the windows so we all shuffled just enough to clear the seats the Japanese were supposed to sit in.

Near Amanda and I were a Spaniard and an American. They started swapping stories about the bus trips they had taken so far in Nepal. The American had photos of the car he had been in which had overturned. He also told us about his bus being held up for an hour by a man in the middle of the road wielding a machete. It turned out later there was a dead body on the road also.....but this didn't seem to explain things.

At one stop a kid climbed aboard. He played a simple instrument and sang. The tourists gave him money. We later worked out if he did 3 or 4 buses a day he would be earning better than the average way for an adult in Nepal. The roads were very rough, the people very poor but the scenery spectacular. So majestic and wild. I decided I like Nepal very much.

After about five hours travel we started to pass large groups of people stopped by the side of the road. They were Indian in appearance and seemed to have clothes spread out everywhere drying on rocks or small bushes. They became more frequent and then we reached a line of traffic stopped and blocking one lane of the road. The other lane was filled with foot traffic, bicycles and the odd bicycle rickshaw.We realized it was a Maoist strike but our driver, although very agitated and worried, overtook the line of traffic weaving through the pedestrians and bicycles. Quickly we had to shuffle around and hide the Nepali passengers. If we were only carrying tourists we might be let through, but if we had Nepalis aboard we would be stopped or the bus damaged or the Nepalis beaten. Westerners sat in the front seats and the window seats. I put my hat on one Nepali's head. The line of trucks, buses and cars stretched for about 15 kilometers. We were the only bus moving. We did get some hostile looks and some arm waving. Four times we were stopped at check points. Three of them had men with rifles and police in riot gear. At each an officer would come and argue with the driver. I would stick my head out the window and wave and smile. They wouldn't wave back and usually didn't acknowledge me but each time they stopped arguing and waved us through. Maybe it was the red shirt I was wearing, or maybe it was the haircut? A few times we stopped and a couple of the Nepalis got out, once we approached another road block with traffic lined up and did a u-turn before getting too close. Then we backtracked and turned down all sorts of back roads and winding lanes, but eventually we got to a dusty paddock they called the bus stop. Here we transferred to a jeep and were taken to our motel. It had been pretty tense and their had been a few worried people on our bus but it all worked out fine.