Color

There are potted plants on the roof of the house we are staying in. Some of the pots are actual containers made of baked clay, while others are not much more than canvas bags filled with dirt from which flowers have bloomed: big yellow ones hanging lazily from a vine, small white ones sticking out tongues of red, pink roses, succulents and cacti… there are dozens of little plants growing, hidden above the muddy Nepali streets below. They are subtle, not junglelike enough to overwhelm or surprise a curious rooftop visitor, but as I sat among them earlier today in the morning breeze, I was struck by their presence up there. Someone must have taken the time to haul these potted plants up five flights of stairs and onto the roof, to sacrifice some of their restricted water and time to keep them alive, though no one can see them from the street below. A secret touch of color five flights above the dust and soot.

There are countries where squalor creates monochrome, a washed out despair of gray, but from the rooftop I can see that Nepal is a country of color. This is not the only rooftop garden I can see from up here. All over Kathmandu, there are myriads of urban gardeners, climbing the steps to their own little havens of life. Homes are painted in hues of pink and green and orange, of blues and reds. Their clothes, especially the saris, are famously vivid without being garish. Little strings of flags flutter in the wind, hanging from temple-tops, balconies, and even seemingly random mountain trails. Even their food, with their red, yellow, and green curries, lights up your palate as much as it lights up your plate. Color is everywhere.

It is the color of a people that have not given into despair. Color matters. Beauty matters. And the fact that the people of Nepal recognize that it matters is important, for the people of Nepal are the most beautiful part of this landscape. Despite the chaos, the mud, the injustice, and the beggar children riffling through the refuse, Nepal fights back, winning small victories that matter more than we know. Their smiles, their hospitality, their laughter… they light up a place that has few logical reasons for hope. I have seen places that where the people’s morale has been crushed under the weight of their despair, but here, eyes sparkle and color flashes behind the clouds of dust, soot, and death, saying, we are still very much alive. There is hope.