The Woman in the Park

You saw the little boy with the huge, chubby cheeks smiling on his way to school. You saw the old grandmother in her traditional yak-fur chupa walking ever-so-slowly-but-surely up the hill as she devoutly circumambulates the compound belonging to the Dalai Lama. You were floored when you heard of their resilience, touched when you observed their compassion for other human beings. You assumed that, although living in-exile as refugees, Tibetans were doing alright. You figured their faith in Buddhist teachings and the leadership of His Holiness was enough.

But were you there in the park that day? Did you see that young Tibetan woman, with her shirt open and nothing underneath? Did you see how her eyes stared blankly ahead as she led the man into the bushes, around the corner where no one could see? Could you smell her desperation, feel her pain?

There is a definite dark side to the Tibetan refugee community in India. In the tourist places, they have constructed a beautiful façade to please foreigners, keep them coming back, keep them spending money. And whereas the little boy with the chubby cheeks and the circumambulating grandmother are real, so is that young woman in the park. The only difference is that they’ve managed to tuck her away into some nameless ghetto, hoping that no one will see.

Not to say that no one tried to help her. I am told she was once the ‘top girl’ in town – beautiful, friendly, smart and desired. And somehow she fell prey to the dark side, perhaps due to her memories of some childhood trauma, forced to leave her home and cross the Himalayas on foot. Maybe she was a political prisoner, tortured for months in a Chinese prison. I can only guess. But she began to drink. And soon, she needed to find a way to pay for the steady stream of whiskey her body learned to require and desire. I’m told that the local monasteries and nunneries tried to help her. A women’s group brought her to a rehabilitation center. Her husband tried to convince her that she could come home and start over again, fresh, and with complete forgiveness.

But there she was, in the park that day. She led the faceless man into the bushes as I watched.

This is the reason I am here. This is the reason Tibet Women’s Soccer came into existence. I cannot do anything to help that woman. But I can do everything in my power to make sure that the next time a young Tibetan girl has to face the demons of her past, she will have the voice to express it, the confidence to process it, and the community to lean on as she does.

Thank you to everyone who has supported this project. The deeper I get into this community, the more I realize how hugely important it is to empower its women. I am doing my best, with the help of many other volunteers, to reach as many Tibetan girls as quickly as possible.

This winter we held our first-ever (I say this because due to its massive success, we will surely be holding one annually) girls’ soccer camp. For one month we brought three girls from each of 9 Tibetan boarding schools to a beautiful campus in the shadows of the Himalayas. Each morning we began at 7am with either yoga, pilates or running. After breakfast we did various group activities having to do with trust, leadership, health, gender equality or communication in a classroom. Each afternoon we played soccer for two hours. Each night we slept soundly.

I could write volumes about the different activities we did. I could spend years describing each girl’s face, telling you her story.  I could recount every goal scored, every teary-eyes injury. But I think I will leave it at this:

On the second to last day of our month together, I could hear the girls getting up in the morning. I knew immediately something was off. I didn’t hear any giggles. No one was singing. I went downstairs to check on them. Where were the smiles? No one could look me in the eye. Not one girl said ‘good morning.’

At first I feared something had happened – a fight between the girls, a misunderstanding about something I might have said at practice the day before. But then it hit me. They were sad. Really sad.

That evening I called them up onto the roof of the hostel. I made them promise not to talk – not a single whisper. I told them that we are a family now. They are my daughters, I am their mother. They can’t ever forget. They can’t ever disappear. They have to call me, invite me to their weddings, let me hold their babies. Family is forever. I tied a blue string to each of their wrists, and handed a candle to each girl. They passed the flame around in a circle until every candle was lit. I told them that when they felt ready, they could leave their lit candle and walk silently to bed. It took twenty minutes for the first girl to leave. I could hear the sobs as they walked down the steps towards their bunk rooms. As the last girl finally stood up and left, I felt a huge relief. We had all separated on our own terms, when each felt ready. And I would always be ‘there on the roof’ for them. I stayed a few more minutes in the candlelight alone.

The next day we split the girls into two teams and played an exhibition match in front of an impressive audience of key members of the community. When the final whistle blew, hysterical sobbing ensued. I was shocked, actually. This was not the misty-eyed goodbye I might have seen back home. This was undeniable, unhindered emotion. The camp meant something to those girls that I don’t think I will ever understand.

Now the girls have returned to their home schools, and as I write this, the first official girls’ soccer teams are being formed and starting their first practice sessions, led by coaches we trained last November.  Before too long, they’ll be ready for their first formal competitions.

Thank you to all the volunteers, donors and well-wishers who have made this happen. It is truly beautiful, and I am absolutely honored to have the privilege of being involved in it. Lives have already been altered forever.

More soon… we’re just getting started!

Coaches' Training

Anyone who has spent time in a Tibetan community or amongst Tibetan individuals has surely noticed and benefited from this incredibly compassionate, generous & kind culture. It’s a culture built upon the very notion that the ultimate goal in life is to make others happy and bring peace to the world. The foundation of any people, any culture, is its female population. Quietly and humbly, Tibetan women have passed on the values that millions of people all over the world admire so deeply in these people.  If we can find a way to empower these keepers of the light, give them the tools to communicate to the world, just imagine the possibilities, the implications for the future of the human race.

The first official function of Tibet Women’s Soccer was to hold a 1-week training session for the new coaches. We invited 18 male Tibetans from various settlements around India, some traveling from as far as Karnataka state in the south and the kingdom of Ladakh in the far north. The coaches worked directly with Paul Dascalu, former professional player from Romania/Denmark on the field, learning how to implement powerful teambuilding exercises, games and drills suited to beginners. From Delhi we welcomed two physiotherapists, a sports psychologist and a yoga master, all of whom generously bestowed their impressive knowledge, and inspiringly so. Joining them was Mrs. Manjushree Roy, a powerful force in the world of Indian sports, and a staunch supporter of girls’ sports and its ability to empower communities. It was a pleasure working with all these individuals, particularly the coaches. These brave men are the ones who will actually be on the ground with the first girl participants. They are the ones who will have to face the daily ins and outs. They so tirelessly and enthusiastically gave themselves to the program, and I have no doubt that they will return to their schools fully prepared to take on this monumental task.

The training program received incredible publicity here in India and beyond. We were visited by Voice of America, Radio Free Asia, The Times of India, The Hindustan Times, The Tibet Times and Phayul.com. But the best publicity of the week was out on the field while we were playing. Small Tibetan faces peered through classroom windows, wondering, on the first day of practice, what we were doing there. Word spread fast, and as soon as the afternoon bell rang a massive crowd of Tibetan kids gathered along the edges of our drills to watch. Girls, too.

On the last day I gathered 10 willing girls to come out onto the field and work with me a bit. When we explained to them our plans for the future, they were shocked. The looks on their faces said it all – THANK YOU.

So next, in January, 3 girls from each school will be sent to me for a 1-month intensive training program. It will include not only soccer, but leadership training, psychology, yoga & meditation & nutrition. These girls will then return to their home schools and become the seeds of the first teams – the captains. I am so excited.

During the week an interesting idea was posed. Traditionally, every Tibetan family sends one son to become a monk and live in a monastery. Essentially, a Tibetan monk’s purpose is to spend his life praying for world peace, and doing everything in his power to attain such peace within himself. Recently the United Nations launched a worldwide campaign to use sports as a tool to inspire, empower, attract and mobilize communities around the world. If sports can indeed be used as a tool for peace, perhaps in this modern world every Tibetan family can also ensure that their children have the opportunity to participate in sports, especially their girls. Imagine the possibilities.

Thank you to everyone who helped make this happen. We’re just getting started. Please stick with us as this  incredible journey continues…

 Future girls' soccer coaches train as Tibetan schoolchildren look on.

 Coaches gather in the courtyard of the House of Peace & Dialogue, center of activity for our 1-week training.

 Tibetan coaches, physiotherapists, psychologist, trainers, & Manjushree Roy from Delhi.

 Getting interviewed for television.

 Training with the first participants.

Tibet's First Girls' Soccer Coaches!

As Thanksgiving fast approaches, I often find my thoughts with all the amazingly generous people who supported my dream this summer by making donations and helping with the fundraising efforts. My Thanksgiving this year will include no turkey. There definitely won't be gravy. No football, no apple pie, no mashed potatoes. But what better way to spend the ultimate day of gratitude than by physically manifesting the intention I set so long ago - to start a girls' soccer program for Tibetan refugees - for all the friends, family and strangers who made it possible.

I can't believe it's only 2 weeks away. We've invited 20 Tibetan adults to attend a 6-day coaching intensive here in Dharamsala. Everything seems to just be falling into place so magically. I am led to believe that it's all meant to be.

A twist of fate led to a meeting with former professional Romanian soccer player, Paul Dascalu, who was conveniently hanging around Dharamsala looking for a way to volunteer using his soccer skills. Paul speaks perfect English, has started numerous youth soccer teams, and is a classroom teacher in his current home in Denmark. He has hopped on board our effort to prepare the Tibetan coaches to start the first girls' teams, and he somehow feels just as lucky to have met us as we feel to have met him. Paul brings a whole new level of legitimacy to the training - I am no expert in soccer coaching. And now I feel like we will be preparing these new coaches to form teams and conduct training at a way more professional level than if I were operating alone.

The training program will open with an elaborate Tibetan ceremony, complete with honored guest (the head of ALL Tibetan schools in India), prayers performed by Buddhist monks and official photographs. We've invited two guest speakers from Delhi - one sports psychologist and one sports physiotherapist - both directly affiliated with the Indian Sports Commission.

Each day will begin with a 7am yoga/meditation class, followed by an hour on the field learning drills with Paul. After breakfast we'll gather in the conference room for lectures on various topics, ranging from big-picture feminist theory right down to how to teach a girl to dribble a ball. After lunch we'll take a short break and then head back out onto the field for 2 more hours of practical with Paul. Each evening we'll screen a key game from this summer's Women's World Cup, which was never aired in India.

We've hired cooks to prepare all our meals and tea breaks. We've commandeered an entire guesthouse on the school campus where everyone will be given full accommodation. We've got balls, t-shirts, whistles and stopwatches for every coach. We're paying all the travel expenses for the out-of-towners coming from Tibetan refugee settlements further afield. In fact, we were only planning to invite the ones from within the general region - but somehow, coaches at schools further away (in Ladakh & South India) got wind of what was going on. They asked if they could come too. Part of the agreement that each new coach has to make in order to attend the program is that they must agree to start a girls' team in their community. So, of course, how could I say no? Two more teams. Check!

The entire proceedings will be documented by a professional filmmaker. He is currently living in Dharamsala, producing 25 short films showcasing life as a refugee. He has latched onto our effort and wants to make one of our first girl players the subject of one of his films. He is granting us full rights on the resulting feature.

One might think that I must be completely busy right now preparing for all this. Unbelievably, I am not. Life seems to be in perfect balance.  I've always been told that when you're doing something you truly love, when your work becomes your true calling, the details will fall into place and you won't feel like you're working at all. It's cliche, but for me, right now, it is absolutely true.

So although I'll be substituting lentils for turkey, chapatti for biscuits, and butter tea for beer this Thanksgiving, it's all worth it. I am so completely grateful to all of you for providing me with the chance to live this life that I am coming to love so dearly, that is providing me with so much satisfaction. I don't doubt that it will soon bring a chance for the same to many others.

To all of those who helped in any way to make this possible: FEEL GOOD RIGHT NOW. You've created something truly remarkable. Thank you.

Stay tuned for details on how it all went!

An Amazing Day

Yesterday was an amazing day.

Tomer and I purposely arrived in Dharamsala about a month earlier than was required to begin work on the girls' soccer program. We knew that for most of September and the first couple of weeks of October, the members of the Tibetan National Sports Association would be in South India for their annual men's soccer tournament. We planned to arrive in mid-September anyway so that we could settle in, relax and enjoy ourselves a bit after the summer's work.  And we did.  At one point I began to feel antsy (as I usually do when I don't have an active project), but easily distracted myself with a three-day meditation course, long afternoon visits with old friends and several bouts of severe diahrrea.

In fact, I've been enjoying myself so much in this vibrant community that I nearly forgot the reason that these Tibetans are living here in India.  But the other night, late, during a long walk home from an outlying village with friends, I was brutally reminded. A good Tibetan friend, Tsering, a 26-year-old guy with great English and an infectious laugh, ran ahead a bit on the pot-holed road.  As a few of us trailed behind, I noticed that Tsering was having some trouble walking, and kept tripping over himself. I knew he had a problem with his feet, but I just figured it was a simple injury or something. Then I was told that, no, it was not a simple injury. Tsering had walked across the Himalayas as a child. With his mother, he had risked his life to escape Chinese oppression, and during the long journey, he has succumbed to frost bite.  Part of his feet had been amputated.

This reality hit me hard. Most of the time, the Tibetans in Dharamsala are so positive about life, never complaining, never playing the victim.  I had known Tsering a while, and he had never even mentioned what had happened to him.  I was reminded that every refugee has a story, most of which are incredibly scary and painful. My purpose for being here was on the forefront of my mind again. And just in time.

That morning I sent an email to Kalsang Dhondup, the head of the Tibetan National Sports Association and my main contact here, letting him know that I was here waiting for him and ready to get started once he returned. An hour later, he called. He had just arrived.

Tomer and I opted to hike the 5 km through the woods in order to reach the Tibetan Children's Village, home to 2000 Tibetan youth and the head offices of the Sports Association. As we climbed up the hill, through the pine forest, I couldn't help but notice a few butterflies in my stomach. I had been planning this program for over 1 year now. I had called upon my friends, family and everyone I knew to help.  I was scared that I had somehow misinterpreted all the emails, imagined the need for a girls' soccer program and exaggerated my role in this community and in this project.  We passed an area in which small stone huts are scattered up a steep slope - temporary homes of monks and nuns in retreat - and I felt my posture recover, my confidence renewed.

My fears were for nothing. The first meeting with Kalsang-La could not have gone better. The plan for the program had been communicated clearly. We were all on the same page. We were wanted. All the preparation during the past year had been worth the effort. We also met with the Education Minister of the Tibetan Children's Village. He, also, was incredibly welcoming and enthusiastic about our arrival.  We all discussed some of the ins and outs, and decided that the first thing to get working on would be a one-week coaches training program for all adults interested in becoming Tibet's first girls' soccer coaches.  The training will take place the last week of November, and we will be providing room and board plus a full schedule of activities for about 20 coaches for 5 days!

We walked back to down, practically skipping. We met an Austrian friend, Thomas, for tea at a cafe that overlooks an elementary school in town. Down below, on a concrete court, two 5-boy teams were playing an organized soccer game, complete with screaming mothers and pacing dads. The game ended, and a bunch of kids started kicking the ball around just for fun. Thomas and I looked at each other. Down we went!

For the next two hours, we organized a full scale, impromptu soccer practice for the kids. I found that I was able to communicate with them all clearly, that there was almost no language barrier. When we split up into teams to scrimmage, the boys didn't want to be on my team. It's alright though. I showed them! We won 5-0! All in the name of publicity!

Only one little girl was hanging around as we played.  She was a bit too timid to join, but I asked her, "Would you like to play soccer? Would you like a girls' soccer team?" She smiled so wide. She said YES.

Jake Budlow, Peace Passers & Tibet Women's Soccer!

Somewhere in the middle of the ocean there floats a container ship. On this said container ship, somewhere squeezed between massive steel boxes, sits a relatively tiny, shrink-wrapped bundle filled with soccer gear bound for the Himalayas. Nearly a year ago, I contacted an organization called Peace Passers, who act as 'brokers' of used, donated soccer equipment. A few months later, my parents' garage in Normandy Beach was filled with stuff, thanks in part to a high school kid named Jake Budlow.


Jake is an amazing person, and I imagine a lot of it has to do with his equally amazing parents, all of whom I had the pleasure of meeting when they braved the hellish Jersey Shore summer traffic and drove down from Chatham, NJ to drop off all that Jake had collected.  In 2009 Jake ran his first gear drive, and collected over 190 pairs of soccer cleats for a program in Rwanda. This year, he decided to do it again, and Tibet Women's Soccer was the lucky recipient. This time he collected 160 pairs of cleats, 60 pairs of shin guards, 20 uniforms, goalie shirts, goalie gloves and even a few soccer bags.


In the US, many of us forget how privileged we are to be able to purchase a new pair of cleats every season, or a new set of fancy uniforms for our team each year. So many of these items get thrown out when they are actually still in great, functional shape. Consider starting a gear drive in your own school or community to recycle these types of items for redistribution to a community-in-need. Peacepassers.org will be more than happy to help you distribute them.


Now let's just hope the gear makes it to Delhi! Stay tuned for details on that inevitable adventure...

Check out Jake's story & Peace Passers here:
http://peacepassers.org/jake-budlow-shining-bright

This Time Is Different

As our shabby bus curved through the foothills of the mighty Dalhoudar range, I could not shake the feeling that this time would be different.  Suffering from an extreme bout of jet lag, I lay back in my seat and watched the Indian countryside roll by to the light of the full moon.  This time would be different.

My past four extended stays in Dharamsala were about me.  Finding myself was the primary objective.  Although I had some minor commitments to students I tutored and to the local vipassana meditation center in the past, my days remained largely my own.  I lived free from serious obligation.  I could go home whenever I pleased.  This time, I have a very different task – to give Tibetan girls the tools they need to find themselves through soccer.  I have made a commitment to stay here for at least one year.  This commitment is not only to myself, or to the Tibetan National Sports Association.  Right now, it feels as if the commitment is primarily to the nearly 200 individuals back in the US who donated their time and money to even making the idea of this project possible.  My entire world is watching, waiting, to see what transpires during my time here.  And I feel it.

I still feel like my body has not yet allowed me to fully experience the emotions tied to receiving so much support from my friends, family & community back home.  I can feel the intense gratitude being stored somewhere in my chest and in my throat, and except for a few random bubblings-up from time to time, I don’t think I can handle it in its full force, at least not yet.  I like to think of this gratitude being stored as my fuel tank to get me through this project, this new phase in my life.  When a new challenge presents itself, when I find myself in a tight spot or trying to juggle a tough decision it is to this store of inspiration that I will turn.

For now, Tomer and I will take a couple of weeks to find a great apartment, make it into a home & settle ourselves in to the rhythm of life in this small, refugee community before starting on the monumental tasks that lay ahead.  Now it is still monsooning, and we are receiving at least 2 inches of rain per day.  In this, the second rainiest spot in all of India, it’s hard to do much in the way of soccer.  I think it’s meant to be.  Time to reflect, build up our energy, & get ready to make our next move.  Hopefully the rains will stop by October.

My Speech from Tibet Women's Soccer Fundraiser 8/6/11

I want to tell you a little about what your presence here tonight means.  Six years ago I traveled from Normandy Beach to the far north of India to a small Himalayan town called Dharamsala.  Dharamsala is home to the Dalai Lama and thousands of other refugees from Tibet. In 1950 Mao Zedong & the Chinese Communist forces invaded the peaceful, sovereign nation of Tibet in order to take advantage of its wealth of natural resources & strategic border with India.  In the process, they stripped Tibetans, a people strongly devoted to their Buddhist religion and peaceful way or life, of their right to practice their religion and live their lives freely.  In 1959, the Dalai Lama, who was then both spiritual and political leader of Tibet, was forced to escape to India due to word that the Chinese planned to have him assassinated.  He has never returned. 

Today, the situation in Tibet continues to grow worse.  The Chinese government has banned the teaching of Tibetan language and history in Tibetan schools.  A forced migration of millions of Han Chinese into the region has taken place in order to drown out Tibetans, and Tibetans found with even a photograph of the Dalai Lama can be killed or brutally tortured.  In response, following the Dalai Lama, every day for the past 52 years a steady stream of Tibetan refugees has been entering India, on foot over the highest mountains in the world, escaping the violence & genocide of their homeland.

I initially went to Dharamsala to volunteer as an English teacher for a few months.  There I met Tomer, my husband, and together our love & respect for Tibetan culture and our resolve to help them in their ongoing plight grew.  Last summer I was back in Dharamsala, and it happened to be during the time of the men’s World Cup of Soccer.  The town was in a frenzy.  Soccer fever had hit the refugee community.  We’d stay up all night watching games, cheering for our favorite teams, and pickup soccer games sprung up on every open patch of grass.  Towards the end of it, I realized that at most of these events & viewings, I was the only female in attendance.  Suddenly, the idea hit me: Tibetan girls & women should be playing soccer.  I played soccer all my life, and now as a coach, I really understand how sports improved my self-confidence & provided a way for me to express myself that nothing else could.  Could soccer serve as a vehicle to improve the lives of Tibetan refugee women?  I posed this question to the President of the Tibetan National Sports Association.  He said yes.  So long story short, an amazing chain of events ensued that led to the formation of Tibet Women’s Soccer.  The program has been approved by the Tibetan government-in-exile, and we will be working in partnership with the Tibetan National Sports Association and Tibetan schools to introduce a formal soccer training program for every girl who wants to participate. 

Being refugees, the Tibetans don’t possess the money or the manpower to make this happen on their own.  So, Tomer & I – and YOU- are going to make it happen for them.  Every penny of the money raised here tonight will go towards purchasing gear, training coaches and providing transportation to and from games.  There are no administrative costs and no salaries.  Every penny to the girls.  The hope is for Tibet Women’s Soccer to grow and grow, and for major corporate funding to latch on once we’re up and running.  But for this first year, the support has come from our own community of friends & family.  It has been unbelievable.  Our dream, and the dreams of hundreds of Tibetan girls, are becoming a reality due to the incredible, unwavering generosity of people like you.  Remember, you are just as much a part of this as Tomer and me.  We could not even fathom taking on a project like this without you.  Thanks to our parents, for supporting this rather unconventional career move.  Thanks to Pita & Emily, for reminding me that anything is possible.  Thanks to all our friends & family members who made tonight’s benefit possible, especially The Pilot House Restaurant, The Chapter House Restaurant & BBQ Bob & The Spareribs. Thanks to everyone who made a donation, whether it was online, in person or here tonight.  We promise to do our absolute best work to make this program a success, in honor of all of you.  Now, have fun, dance the night away, be free, and do it in the spirit of the Tibetan people, who value their freedom above of all else.