In a dimly lit room, deep inside rural Kheng, in a village called Khomshar, Chimi Wangmo sits cross-legged facing me. I can feel that there is a sense of unease about her - not quite sure that she would be upto the difficult questions I am likely to pop at her. When the questions began flowing, however, she relaxed and began to answer me with the clarity and deftness of an accomplished presenter - as if she had prepared for this day, all her life.
It is neither a paradox, nor the choice is difficult. Quite simply, it is a matter of lack of leadership.
Over the next 20 minutes or so, it was I the city slicker, and not the country bumpkin barely 28 years old and a drop-out at class XII, who was overcome with a sense of wonderment and admiration.
Me : “So Chimi, how old are you?”.
CW : “I am 28 years old”.
Me : “Upto what class did you study?”
CW : “Class XII”.
Me : “So, what are your thoughts on going to college and getting a degree?”
CW : “I do not wish to pursue any further studies”.
Me : “WHAT?? Why not?
CW : “I do not see any benefit in it”
Me : “Why not?”
CW : “I do not believe that a college degree offers any guarantee, decent or otherwise, of a job in Thimphu. The matter is made worst by the fact that I have to compete with people with wider social network and stronger personal connections.
I do not believe anyone would stop to consider a Khengpa girl from an obscure village called Khomshar, located in some wilderness in remote Kheng. I need to be realistic.
Me : “You present a rather bleak picture - not to say that I disagree with you entirely. If you do not see employment in Thimphu as a way out for you, have you considered an alternative to landing a job in Thimphu?”
CW : “Yes”.
Me : “What is that?”
CW : “Farming and farm work”.
Me : “Really? That is rather an uncommon choice - few, if any, would consider it. I am intrigued - please elaborate on your thoughts”.
CW : It is simple really. Early in life I came to the conclusion that Thimphu does not offer any guarantee of a job. Although the job selection process is said to be merit based, the reality is that it is the well-heeled and the well-connected who will walk over persons of my humble background - my superior talents, my academic excellence or my willingness to work hard will find little value in a job market that is already over crowded. And I cannot, or will not, hope to change a system that has already set deep roots into the cultural fabric of Bhutanese society - as it has, elsewhere in the world.
This makes me sound like I am defeated by the system – I am not. In fact such a system compels me to be more resilient. Choosing farming and farm work over white or blue collar job as a preferred choice of livelihood has sound thinking behind it - it is backed by sound reasoning and mathematics.
Should I decide to get a college education and a degree to go with it, my parents would end up spending few hundred thousand Ngultrums, which would put them in dire financial straits. They do not need that.
After college if, with any luck I am able to land a job in Thimphu, I will most provably be paid a salary of Nu.15,000.00 to Nu.20,00.00 a month - a sum barely enough to sustain myself, let alone support my family. On the other hand, if I take up farming and farm work, I can earn many times more than that amount.
Thus, working on my ancestral farm not only assures me a superior income compared to a job, I also contribute to enhancing the collective family income. Additionally, I am also able to ease the lives of my aging parents who need me in their lives - now more than ever. I am also able to help my school going younger brother to get a proper education - if not he would have to be taken out of school, to help out the parents.
At a different level, I serve a national objective - that of helping the nation restock the rural villages with young, able hands - more than enough are being lost to the lure of $$ to Australia, USA, Canada etc. There is no doubt that the lure of the $$ is a powerful force that few can resist - but one has to decide how much is one’s need, and what portion of that need is comprised of one’s wants. The final question one has to ask truthfully, in my opinion, is:
Is livelihood more important than life?”
Indeed!: Is livelihood more important than life? Does livelihood hold any meaning if there is no life? Are we seeing the loss of Bhutanese tradition, in pursuit of borrowed cultures? Are the Bhutanese youth chasing a mirage while gold mines are sitting in their villages, waiting to be exploited?
Is the government’s focus on centers of floating population the wrong place to focus on? Are rural areas better points of focus? Is there a need to shift focus - to halt outmigration of youth; to assure food self-sufficiency, to prevent Goongtongs, to prevent demographic imbalance, etc.?
I think there is a powerful message in the thoughts of the simple village girl in remote Khomshar.
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