Archery, and The End of the Supply Chain

A missive from Jay:

I am on the tail end of teaching this semester, while also planning a fall class. More soon on that process and our plans. But I wanted to take a moment to share some observations of things that have become commonplace for us:

Archery

Archery is the national sport here. A lot of people do it, either using fancy high-tech bows (compound bows) or traditional bamboo bows. It’s not just a youth versus elder thing. One of the 20-something faculty assistants at JSW “plays archery” using a traditional bow.

Official tournaments apparently have teams of 13 archers taking turns with two arrows each. Our friend David watched one of these tournaments, apparently a very competitive match. The prize was a washing machine for each team member of the winning team. An exceptionally awesome prize for the tournament. 

In assessing the health care system in Bhutan as we prepared to come here, one colleague who lived here for years explained that for simple stuff, you are covered, though beyond that, “go to India or Bangkok.” But for emergencies, “they are really good at broken bones and arrow wounds.”

So what’s the deal with emergency arrow wounds? Well, first, the targets are 145 meters apart, which is a long way. More significantly, part of the sport (maybe just when not a sanctioned, officiated tournament) involves drinking and taunting, with opponents trying to distract the archer by dancing around the target just before jumping behind the protective blind at the last. So this is a common thing. It seems that most people know someone who has been hit by an arrow. Our friend Sangay’s cousin was killed when he peeped around a barrier.

I have not played archery and don’t intend to.

We are not in the land of municipal regulations anymore. These iPhone pictures don’t quite do it justice, but these two shots show the archery "range" in Pangbisa, the little settlement up the mountain from JSW. The two sides of the range straddle the main road through Pangbisa:

If you look closely you can see the target between the two blinds.

You can't see the target here, just the two blinds that are 150 meters away from the first target. 

I took these photos standing on the road, which bisects the field of flying arrows. I now pay close attention whenever I walk that road. :-)

End of the supply chain

Our friend who advised us on the limits of health care also explained, in response to the broad question of what to bring with us, that “Bhutan is at the end of the supply chain.” We had no reason to doubt him but have lived that experience now. Again, I recognize that at some level this is just First World fussing, but it really is different living someplace with only two roads coming into and out of the country, which facilitates most of the goods coming in. From kitchen utensils to spices to books (no real bookstores here), we are at the end of the line, and there is only so much stuff that a country at the end of the line gets off the truck, so to speak.

So yes, quite the shock to move from Seattle where you could fill a small store with doorknobs and locks selections. In Bhutan, the doorknob solution you see is basically like the front door of our house in Paro (and every other door to every room inside the house, whether kitchen, bathroom, or bedroom). 

Somebody seems to have nearly cornered the market, because this particular model of deadbolt seems to be used nearly everywhere.

This deadbolt works so why bother with a doorknob?

But because JSW is all new construction, they tried to do something different. Here is a photo of the front door of the grand, beautiful, expansive, energy efficient and ecofriendly library that we have previously posted pictures of. You will notice there's no doorknob. (At least they didn’t install the National Deadbolt.) It was missing for our first two months here because they didn’t have the part. Then a part was installed, and it worked fine for a while. But now something is amiss, and it fell off again. So now, again, someone opens the door from the inside and sticks a rock or the doormat at the bottom to keep the door open for the day.

I think this is a metaphor for many things here at JSW: the contrast of JSW’s grand aspirations with the reality of the limits to the knowledge and abilities. The school is a collection of beautiful buildings up on the mountain, while at the same time there is limited insight into how to maintain these grand buildings; or, for that matter, how to care for and support the well-being of students and staff living up on the mountain. Such as having more than four washing machines for over a hundred students, faculty and staff to share. 

I guess we need to win an archery tournament or two.