Radio Shangri-La_ What I Learned in Bhutan, the Happiest Kingdom on Earth - Lisa Napoli [98]
King Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck was formally coronated as king of Bhutan just hours after the landslide election of Barack Obama, America’s new president-elect. Though King Jigme had attained his position purely by dint of birth, he was, in his own way, a living symbol of global interconnectedness. He’d attended prep school (Phillips and Cushing) and college (Wheaton) in the United States, then studied for a master’s in England (Oxford), and preferred basketball to the national sport of archery. (Teams of tall strapping players would be summoned to the court in Thimphu when His Majesty wanted a game.) The fifth king of Bhutan might not achieve the greatness of his father and grandfather and great-grandfather before him, for history would show they had brought their country into the modern age. But the mandate before this king, during a time of unprecedented change, was no less critical. While Obama’s election was still dominating world headlines, Bhutan’s fifth king addressed a crowd at the Changlimithang Stadium, where thousands had waited in line all night to ensure they got inside:
Ultimately, without peace, security and happiness, we have nothing. My deepest concern is that as the world changes, we may lose these fundamental values on which rest our character as a nation and people. The Bhutan we see is vastly different—unrecognizable, even—when compared to the Bhutan in the time of our first king. As long as we continue to pursue the simple and timeless goal of being good human beings, and as long as we strive to build a nation that stands for everything that is good, we can ensure that our future generations for hundreds of years will live in happiness and peace.
THREE MONTHS LATER, we are on baby watch in Thimphu, awaiting the arrival of one of the next generation of Bhutanese. The ultrasound long ago revealed the baby would be a boy. To bide the time, Ngawang visits monks, drinks vanilla milkshakes from Karma Café, overdoes it on the chilies because once the baby comes she’ll have to dial down the culinary heat for a while. Uncomfortably large and hoping to move things along, she takes long walks over bridges, which the Bhutanese believe will induce labor. She and Pema and I ride into town to the fabric store to buy a petticoat for the delivery, a garment designed to protect her modesty given the inevitable crowd of family who will gather when the baby debuts. In the altar room of her in-laws’ house, right next to the bedroom where Mr. Japan and Ngawang sleep, monks are on duty, chanting prayers for a healthy baby. Out back, a special tub has been constructed where the new mother will soak off the pain daily in a hot stone bath. After tea one morning, Ngawang’s mother-in-law fills it up and tests it out herself.
One Saturday we sit for hours in the hospital waiting for the only one of the three gynecologists in the city who Ngawang trusts to examine her. He sends her home to wait some more. As the due date comes and goes, and Ngawang becomes larger and more impatient and uncomfortable, I invite her over for a sneak peek at the baby gifts I’ve brought; Ngawang’s not allowed to take them into her home until a healthy baby has arrived. No showers in this culture, at least not yet; purchasing items in advance is seen as a jinx. Ngawang particularly loves the stuffed bear sent by friends of mine she’d met in Santa Monica. “This is for me,” she says, and I know she isn’t kidding. She oohs and aahs at the little hats and bibs and onesies, all from the Gap, a very exotic American brand, though much of their stuff was made in factories closer to here than to the United States. I’ve brought along a stack of kiddie books, too, about