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Since 2008 Rowan Butler has worked in Kathmandu as part of the communications team of International Nepal Fellowship (INF), a Christian development organisation. His main work is in photography, promoting INF’s worldwide profile to raise human and financial resources so it can serve the people of Nepal through health and development work. Rowan, who previously worked as an electrical engineer with the United Mission to Nepal, is also occasionally consulted on engineering problems.

These stories recount Rowan’s interaction with two very different Nepali children: one in the course of his normal work, photographing an INF medical camp; and the second in a chance encounter, part of living life together with Nepali friends.

Ram
Eight years old, undernourished at 15kg and sad looking, I met Ram* as he waited on a chair along with his uncle before he went into surgery to remove a bladder stone. No one could cheer him up. The operation was done at an INF medical camp by a surgeon from New Zealand who had volunteered for the medical camp and paid all his own expenses to come to Nepal, travel to a remote location and stay in a local hotel.

This camp had the luxury of being run in a small hospital, but some take place in remote areas in ordinary buildings and without the benefit of wards for patients to recover in. They are run specifically for the poor and sometimes people like Ram walk for days over steep country to get treatment.

Finally, a smile from Ram! He was feeling much better and his mother had bought him a toy digger and he was enjoying playing with it.

The Kumari

She was being carried down the street at night, a small party accompanying her. Ahead walked a man carrying a burning torch and above her was held a large parasol, trimmed in red and gold. This was the Kumari of the Patan area, the living goddess, that Hindus believe is the incarnation of the goddess Durga. She was on her way to visit my friend Ritesh’s relatives, as they are descended from the ancient Malla kings of the Kathmandu Valley. There are a number of Kumaris in the Kathmandu Valley, all representing the same goddess. She remains set apart until she reaches puberty, at which time she returns to normal life and another girl is chosen.

On another occasion, she was in public for a festival and I took pictures of her. Then after she was taken inside and I was packing up my camera, I was asked if I would like to go in and take more photos of her.

On telling one Nepali friend that I had photographed the Kumari in private, he seemed to barely believe it, and Nepali colleagues at INF seemed astounded. Perhaps it is like being invited in to photograph the Queen!

The Kumari’s mother had asked if she could have copies of the pictures, so I went back later with prints and took two items to give the Kumari as a gift; one a game, because she is really just a girl, and the other, a small Nepali book in comic form about the life of Jesus. It's not often that one has the chance to present the gospel to someone who is considered a god.

Rowan is an Australian Presbyterian World Mission missionary with Interserve, which in turn seconds him to the International Nepal Fellowship.

*Names have been changed

Other

This magazine has a great name; GO. Three years ago, we went. But for many of you, you have not gone; you have stayed to be used by God in Australia. For you who have stayed – but still care about us who have gone – it is to you who I dedicate this letter!

When we were asked to write an article for Go, I was excited. I like to write. When I was told it was on prayer….that made me think twice. That’s because, well…. I’m really not such a great pray-er. As many Mums of young children might identify, I sit down to pray and within a few minutes of quiet I’m either fast asleep or back on my feet dealing with the latest toddler emergency.

I’m really a little embarrassed to admit it of course, because aren’t most “Missionaries” (except me and my husband) pretty perfect? Hmmm. Anyhow, here’s where you come in. Though I strive for a better prayer life, and hope for a great intercessory future, right now, I am a better dish-wiper than intercessor. Yet, we are blessed to have a God who knows our weaknesses and I am eternally grateful for those of you who are faithful intercessors on our behalf.

I know that God hears your prayers for us. I hope you have also seen the evidence of this, and been encouraged, as you read our newsletters, and hear the stories which prove His, and your, faithfulness.

A perfect example was when we needed $10,000 to save the School (for the poor) that we serve at: we asked and you prayed. Two years in a row, at the last minute, we saw God answer these prayers in miraculous ways. Like some of our mission heroes, we now have evidence of God’s providence when we were handed a $10,000 check from an individual we didn’t know, just days before the cut-off. This has not just happened once, but several times. So in the last few years, not only has our ministry been able to continue, but our faith has also grown, through these (character building) waits for God’s answers!

Similarly, when the nation we serve in had some violent and unsettled months, we had to make some tough decisions. Should we stay? Should we go? Would we be safe here? What was God’s will for us at that time? Through those especially scary months, we needed your prayers more than ever. And even when the internet was out for a long while, we knew that you were watching the news and praying for our family. And when it came time to make decisions, God clearly led us into deciding to stay in that nation, despite the uncertainty. But if I had not known that back in Australia there were people committed to praying for us, and upholding us daily, I’m not sure that we would have made the same decision.

There are the simpler things you have prayed for – that don’t make such exciting stories – but are just as important. When you asked on our behalf, for a home for us on home assignment, God answered your prayer. Sometimes I wish God would not wait until it is down to the wire for things, but by now, we are getting much better at trusting in God’s provision! We also saw the provision of a car from a stranger, who happened to email the State Office at the right time, with the right car, and a generous heart – after you prayed. Thanks!
Similarly, we have been aware and humbled that people have been praying for us continually in everyday things, like our walks with God, for our kids settling in a foreign country, and especially for our health and safety. We are happy to share we have not got many exciting stories in that area – a divine answer again.

Individually, some may say these things could be lucky coincidences. They just happened to work out in our favour. But when we look back, over three years, and see the continuous blessing, provision and protection of God on our lives and ministry, we hope you see this cannot be true. There have been countless examples of our family being protected – through death threats at work, in the traffic, and in day-to-day life of emotional strain. As you uphold us in consistent prayer these potentially critical situations have been diffused.

In one situation we were aware that a gang of armed youths were active in our city, and had threatened to come and visit the school. They had attacked churches and other schools, damaging property extensively and slashing and attacking a number of young people indiscriminately, sending six seriously injured youths to hospital. We asked you to pray protection over each child, teacher and the premises. A prayer team from the UK specifically prayer walked the area two weeks before the time of the incident.

The gang did come to the school just before students were released one evening. When they came, my husband came out to confront them, dressed in a suit and dress shoes, and without a weapon of any kind. Yet, when they saw him, the entire gang ran from him, so he chased them into the next suburb, where they dispersed into the market. The school students were able to be dismissed safely, and the gang hasn’t returned yet. Why would the gang not do the same thing here as they had done throughout the city in the weeks previous? Why would they fear a slightly crazy foreigner chasing them? My only credible explanation is that some faithful pray-ers were covering him and the school that day. I don’t know why God chose to protect here and not the other places. But we are very thankful that hundreds of kids were kept safe.

I wish I could understand the mystery of prayer. I wish I could be a great intercessor. The hard times have pushed me into praying more passionately but I still have a long way to go! What I am most grateful for is that you have been there praying for us, and your prayers have been answered time and time again.

It is not only our own supporters for whom this letter is written. Every Partner serving cross-culturally could share of God’s faithfulness and answers to your prayers, just like us. On behalf of them all, to each one of you, our faithful prayer partners: thanks!

Love S.T.

The author is an Interserve Partner

And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear.
Isaiah 65:24 (KJV)

Other

The convoy of four-wheel-drive vehicles was coming his way. Amazingly, it was almost exactly to the minute that he had sighted them the previous week. They were making towards one of the wadi valleys at the foot of the mountain range behind him. As luck would have it, the last fork in the track took them to the wadi right below him. He was in the perfect position to observe their activity.

Drawing to a stop at a point in the track where only the reckless would drive further, the group began to emerge from their airconditioned cocoons. The sound of closing doors and distant voices drifted up to the spy’s hilltop shelter. Greetings were exchanged; some folk were clearly old friends while a few others, passed around in a circle of introductions, were obviously new. The whole process was almost obscenely rapid by local standards. But, even in the late afternoon, the sun still had considerable power and people were restless to move up into the shaded steeper parts of the valley.

It was the first time the spy had seen them this close. He was confused. He had thought he would be able to categorise them immediately into one of the expected social strata he was accustomed to in his country. Instead, the variety staggered him. Wishing he had a camera, he quickly scrabbled for a notebook to capture the details: Arab, Asian, African and European. Almost a third were his own countrymen, cheerfully removing national garments to reveal shorts and T-shirts. There were even a couple of national women in modest clothing suitable for hiking. His keen eye, used to supervision of his sister’s social activities, appreciated that they came in cars with other women.

Amongst the others there was a wide range of nationalities – many he would not expect to see together. In the fragments of speech that rose up to him, he could detect British, American and South African accents, along with various Asian ones, and some others he could not identify. The wide range in ages, too, was perplexing: some people were clearly of retirement age, others were in their thirties, and there were even some teenagers and children.

After tightening bootlaces and adjusting day packs, the group seemed ready to go. One voice rose over the others; the spy observed the speaker point generally up the wadi and, after just a couple of sentences of instruction, the group moved off. How he wished his own briefings could be so quick. The spy realised that, from his vantage point, he would have them in sight for some time. This allowed him time for some deeper reflection. What on earth could bring such a disparate group of people together like this? There was certainly no militaristic discipline to the march. Some leaped ahead like gazelles over the rocks (he was pleased to note that the majority with this skill were his own countrymen), but others were clearly struggling with the difficult terrain and were being guided by more experienced members.

As the people wove their own tracks up the wadi valley, he noticed that conversational groups seemed to form and reform without regard to nationality, gender or age. It was a sharp contrast to the strict gender segregation he had been brought up with. However, he felt strangely undisturbed by the sight. Even at this distance he could observe the body language of respect and deference among the group. Hands that would probably never join together in any other situation were held out in offer – or receipt – of help over difficult parts of the track. The spy wondered why he could not summon any moral outrage at the sight. Even the contrasts of the wider scene began to speak to him. Here among the ancient fossilised rocks was a trickle of happy human life. Was this a new form of community emerging from the hard and rigid traditions he and his people had lived with for centuries? What were the possibilities?

Among the last traces of voices fading in the distance was the occasional gleeful shout of discovery. Had the spy been closer, he would have heard some of the people marvelling at the ‘creation’ around them. Again he would have been puzzled. His experience with politically correct textbooks and media had led him to believe that the whole Englishspeaking world could only relate to a godless ‘nature’.

Just on dusk, the spy was roused by returning voices; he was able to see by the clusters that there was still no distillation of the group into expected social categories. As people eagerly gathered around a small cool box at the rear of one of the vehicles, the spy raised his binoculars again. At last – something to report! What illicit substance were they getting out of it that led to such cries of delight? Disappointingly, however, the box just contained chilled, damp facecloths, that brought great refreshment to the hot and weary hikers.

Waiting until after the last of the group climbed back into their vehicles and drove away, the spy finally unfolded his cramped limbs, grimacing in discomfort as he did so. He was puzzled by what he had observed, and suspicious of the unusual camaraderie and acceptance he’d witnessed within the group… but also strangely drawn to it. There was no other option: he would return.