- 15th October 2016
Last night we slept with the horses. Someone should have told us to close the garden gate to keep away horses. Sleeping in a tent for the first time in ages was already an exciting experience to fully be at peace and on top of that I could feel the horses strolling by my head, inches away with just a thin layer of tent between their hard hooves and my skull. I had always heard that horses won’t miss a step and I gambled on that knowledge.
Only in the morning we learned that they did miss a lot of steps last night and removed most of the pegs that we had used to hold our tents. The kitchen team reported that they had to wake up in the middle of the night and re-pitch their tent, which the horses sent crashing down on them.
The moment you came out of the tent, in every direction you could see the kind of sceneries you would see in the postcards where you had often shamelessly fantasized yourself in. Laya in reality was far more glorious than that in my imagination.
From the picture Dasho Dzongda had shown to us in Thimphu I knew Laya was not yet done amazing us. The festival ground was yet to be seen. We saw convoy of people climbing the hill to the ground and I grew restless. The size of our team made it obviously difficult to keep to the schedule and moreover we realized our actual campsite was further up in a green patch of land, for which we had to undo everything and look for horses.
To my team’s credit they let me and my two staff go ahead of them while the took care of setting up the new camp because we had toilets to set up for the event.
|Chimi and Menda helping us in carrying our materials|
The event ground was further up the hill on a spellbinding flatland among hills. The ticket to seeing the stunning view up there was the hard uphill climb from the village, literally crossing the tree line. For locals it was a walk in the park but I could see everyone else catching their breadth between every two steps and looking back at the village as if to see how far they had climbed. Imagine having to do this hard little trek every morning for the rest of our days in Laya! Of course I took it as a daily practice for my journey back to Gasa.
The ground was a shallow depression on the slope of the gigantic hill that could easily adjust two football fields. From my little geography knowledge I could assumed that there must had been a lake here once upon a long time. The highland grass gave the ground a flawless finish. With over 60 bja pitched around the ground the place looked like an ancient battlefield.
At over 12,000 feet it was going to be the highest point we had ever setup toilets at. Now we had to look for the someone who could tell us where we were allotted the space to pitch our toilets. We brought eight camping toilets that were most suitable for the festival considering all the factors. The toilets had to be imported from Bangkok and without the office of the Gyalpoi Zimpon we would have never gotten them. We didn’t even have a solid backup plan incase the toilet didn’t make it on time.
When we finally found the person who was overlooking the management of the event. He didn’t look quite pleased to see us. He said he was expecting us earlier. Well I thought I should narrate our horse story but he wasn’t so friendly to spend my time telling stories. He pointed at a spot with his walkie-talkie quite a distance uphill. I straightaway told him it was too far but he defended saying it was decided thus. He threw quite a few names before he left in hurry holding the handset high.
My team walked up to the spot to inspect the location but halfway up we were exhausted. Imagine having to scale this distance with an upset tummy! No, not possible. We went back to negotiate the location but the guy wouldn’t listen. He said the location I was proposing was too close for toilets. I asked why. He said it would be an eyesore and the wind would blow the foul smell right into the event ground. That’s when I asked him, “Who told you my toilets are ugly? Who told you my toilets will stink? I haven’t come all the way to make an ugly-stinky toilet.”
In the following days I would see this man rushing to our toilet from time to time and I at time felt like stopping him and pointing to the location he had given me.
This wasn’t the first time something like this happened. At every event we had been to we had suffered this kicking-the-toilet-away issue. I would call it our achievement the day this prejudice stops.
I nagged to Dasho Sangay Khandu and told him that I was not going to put my toilets where no one would reach. Poor Dasho who was himself a guest there with no role in the management of event nonetheless managed to fish in someone who hesitantly decided to accept my offer.
Gasa engineering team along with some friends from media helped us dig up the ground. Over the holes we placed the prefab floorboards and pitched the foldable tents over them. In less than an hour our toilets were ready. And before we left we gave our magic touch- a bucketful of sawdust inside each toilet to conceal the bad sight and bad smell at all times. We nearly brought sawdust all the way from Thimphu, not knowing that we could get it right here in Laya.
After my stage was set I went around shanking countless hands because everyone I knew in Thimphu was here in Laya. Towards evening we headed to the royal guesthouse to assess the toilet there. It was located below the event ground on a similar flatland across the village. It was further than it looked but climbing down was not much of an issue. I told the security guards about my purpose of visit and they reported that to the officer over the set.
“Dasho, Bhutan Toilet Org has come to inspect the toilet.”
“Ok, let them in.” Came the reply that made me feel like a real toilet professional. Once inside I removed my shoes and went straight to royal shangchab. The carpet was damp so I instructed the guards to dry them right away. I had a replacement in my bag but the one there was of better color. I put the seat warmer, placed the hand sanitizer, air freshener, and hand towel and wiped every part of the toilet dry. The security guard looked convinced and that made me proud.
It was a busy first day in Laya and I was yet to interact with locals and explore their way of life. Returning to the village I was lost again, I couldn’t locate my new camp. In a distance I saw a man walking with his huge solar flashlight that could play loud music from pen drive. I called out to him,
“Could you help us find our camp?”
“There is one right up there with some five tent.”
“Oh, that must be our camp. Could you show us the way.”
“Wait right there, I will come there.”
And thus he came to fetch us and guided us to our new camp. It was quite a distance uphill from where we were and the stranger didn’t mind walking all the way away from where he was headed. He was the first Layap I came in touch with and the first impression was remarkable.