他告诉我1991年政府采用议会之后不久，他就开始和村子里党的同志们一起工作。接着，1996年，人民战争发动一年之后，警察来到他家逮捕了他，把他拉到两小时距离外的一个警所。警察一直在打他，并威胁要当场杀死他。他被投入监狱，警察折磨了他整整一个星期，企图从他身上捞到有关党和党的工作的情报。他说：“我从不告诉他们任何东西，即使我想到他们也许会杀我。一星期后，他们继续盘问我。但我仍然拒绝告诉他们任何消息。我告诉他们我只是村里的一位革命同情者，其它就什么都不告诉他们了。警察指控我破坏了和平与安全的法律，交出了10,000卢比高昂的保释金后最终被释放。”（10000卢比约合180美元，对尼泊尔大多数人来说都是一笔巨大的费用——这儿的人均年收入（per capita yearly income）是210美元。
在此之后， Sanjeevan来到城里学习英语文学。当我问他为什么做出这个决定时，他说：“因为我想阅读所有英文版的马列毛著作，而不是翻译成尼泊尔文的。”在城里，他寻找其它愿意讨论诸如贫穷、剥削、政府腐败等社会问题的知识分子。但和他谈过话的所有人都对革命的政治不感爱好，假如感爱好，也只是说说，而不愿行动。然后1996年2月，人民战争爆发了，这使 Sanjeevan陷入思想危机。他告诉我：
自从妻子转入地下后， Pravat继续在家独自一人照料着年轻的儿子和女儿。但6个月后警察来到并逮捕了他。他们把他双手绑了起来，拉到了很远的一个警所。他们威胁他，盘问他，力图把他和那一地区最近发生的几件事情联系起来。当时正值雨季，夜里，他们把他绑住，一个人留在了那里，站在倾盆大雨之中，只穿着短裤、衬衫和凉鞋。后来 Pravat被释放了。但警察还是对他提出了几条指控，包括“扰乱众公秩序”和“叛逆”，所以他被迫转入地下。后来，他们对他提出了更多的指控，包括捏造的谋害罪名（他对此一无所知）。现在他再去他和家人以前居住过的地区或邻近地区都是非常危险的。
我为 Pravat向我讲述他那些令人毛骨悚然的故事时所表现出来的自制和平淡感到吃惊。但即使我们开玩笑的时候也有一种严厉的性质： Pravat的另一面总是很紧张，对生活四周的危险保持高度警惕，对革命事业毫无保留。当 Pravat讲完他的故事时，我们在月光下已站了大约一个小时。但我抬头昂望天空，我忽然感到了Pravat沉静的勇敢之中的深沉。那儿，伴着群星，我看到了许多许多我在尼泊尔碰到的和 Pravat一样的同志们的面孔。
To be continued.
Dispatches: Report from the People's War in Nepal
Teachers in a School of War
By Li Onesto
Revolutionary Worker #1027, October 24, 1999
This is the eleventh article of a new series of dispatches from this exciting trip. (See RW #1014 through #1020 and #1022-#1024 for Parts 1 through 10.)
Binita is getting her son, one-year-old Nand, ready for the trip home to her village. She quiets his fussiness[fussy 为琐事而担忧的, 过分装饰的, 繁琐的, 急躁, 爱挑剔的, 难取悦的] with a few crackers [饼干]and then he is happy to be picked up and cradled in the piece of cloth that is strapped to Binita's chest. By now he is used to traveling like this for many, many hours. Over the last few days I have gotten to know Binita, even though she doesn't speak English--and I don't speak Nepali. Her husband was killed by the police less than a year ago and, like many women active in the People's War, she takes her baby with her wherever she goes. She is responsible for the party's work among women in this area and has been attending our meetings.
Our entourage（四周,环境,随从）--a people's army squad, my translator, Pravat, and a couple of other comrades--are heading for another village today and there will be many good-byes（再见, 再会，离别）. A people's army cultural team that has been traveling with us is going off （离开, ）in another direction. And several other people who I have gotten to know over the last couple of days are returning to their villages. As we gather outside, Binita comes up to me and shares words of departure which, in the weeks ahead, will be echoed by many others. "I hope sometime in the future we will be lucky enough to meet again," she says. "But if we do not, we will always be connected to each other through our ideology."
The travel today is much easier--we only go for about six hours, mainly in daylight. After we reach our shelter we have a hearty meal of dal baht, curry potatoes and mutton. Then a teacher from the area comes to talk to me. I have already met many teachers in the countryside who have become fighters and leaders in the revolution. And it seems like village teachers frequently end up "educating" their students in more than reading and writing.
This teacher has a gentle face that contrasts with his strong, stout body. His voice is soft, but his presence fills the room even when he is silent. Like many of the comrades who have suffered at the hands of the reactionaries, he is deadly serious when he talks about the brutality of the police and surrenders no smiles as he recounts his story.
He tells me he started working with the party in his village shortly after the government adopted the parliamentary system in 1991. Then in 1996, in the first year after the initiation, the police came to his house, arrested him, and dragged him to a police post two hours away. The police beat him the whole time and threatened to kill him on the spot. He was thrown in jail and then for a whole week the police tortured him, trying to get him to give information about the party and its work. He says, "I never told them anything, even though I thought that they might kill me. After a week they continued to interrogate me. But still, I refused to tell them anything. I only told them I was a sympathizer in the village but nothing more. The police charged me with breaking the `peace and security' law and I was finally released after paying a high bail of 10,000 rupees." (10,000 rupees is about $180, which is a huge sum of money for the majority of people in Nepal--the per capita yearly income here is around $210.)
When this brave teacher is done with his story I tell him how the masses in the U.S. also face heavy brutality from the police and that there have been many cases of torture in U.S. prisons. And I tell him that his story will inspire others, because it shows how his revolutionary ideology gave him the strength to defy the police and refuse to give them any information--even in the face of death.
"What I am doing in the People's War is part of the world revolution," he says. "I thought that all the people in the United States were rich. But after meeting you, seeing how you have come from so far away to learn of our struggle, and after hearing about the struggle of the masses in the U.S.--it makes me even stronger in my revolutionary determination to stand up to the enemy. I see you as an actual physical example of proletarian internationalism and this inspires me. In our People's War many people are being martyred and, compared to this, what I have done is little. Now I am no longer underground and do legal work openly. But the party's work encompasses both legal and underground work, and in the future, if I have to, I will go underground again. Now the police are watching me and looking for a chance to arrest and torture me again. And I pledge that if that happens, again, I will never give away any party secrets to the enemy."
The next day it is still dark outside when we leave at 4:45 a.m. and head north toward the border between Rolpa and Rukum. Ahead of us is a 14 hour trek before we reach our shelter. And we have to go up and down many huge mountains. The people's army squad is with us again, divided up, ahead and behind.
At one point we come to a big river where a bridge is being repaired by the party. It had been built by the government but when it fell apart it was never fixed. So now, as with many other things in Rolpa, people's power committees are mobilizing the masses to deal with the problem. And a team of men are in the process of rebuilding the bridge.The semi-rebuilt bridge only has slats of wood placed far apart, but not fastened. To walk across you have to hold on to the side railing and jump from loose board to loose board-- just a slip away from the water and rocks far below. As we approach the river, I'm getting my courage up, a bit excited about facing this new challenge. But then my comrades decide this bridge crossing will be too dangerous for me. Plus the security situation in this spot, which is near a road sometimes patrolled by the police, means we must pass through this area very quickly. We can't afford the risk of my inexperience.
One comrade motions me to follow him. As everyone else quickly heads for the bridge, we go a short distance up the river and around a bend. The water here, while not too deep, rushes over sharp rocks. The comrade takes off his shoes and socks and rolls up his pants. Thinking we're both going to wade across, I do the same, tie my boot shoelaces together and sling them around my neck. We make our way toward the water and I wince as the soles of my feet hit jagged rocks. When we get to the river's edge the comrade stoops down and motions me to climb onto his back. He is not a large man, but he's incredibly strong. And he carries me through the rapids in a steady, zig-zag path, to the opposite shore.
When we get to the other side of the river we have a short hike[行军] up the mountain to reunite with the rest of our group, who have quickly crossed the bridge. As we approach the top we see they are sitting under a shady tree--looking as if they've been lounging around all morning. I'm still a bit out of breath when we walk up, and as someone hands me a bottle of water, I quip, "I know what you guys are up to[做（坏事）]. I could have made it across the bridge...but this was just a ruse so you could all get some extra rest!" Everyone cracks up laughing.
Later in the day, during one of our rest stops, I ask Sanjeevan to tell me the story of how he came to be a "responsible party comrade." Sanjeevan, who is 29 years old, has traveled with us since we arrived in Rolpa and has been such a good comrade to me, helping me up, down and around the mountains and always being very concerned about my health and well-being. He has a wonderful sparkle in his eyes, a big smile and a charming laugh that peaks with excitement. He has been helping to translate for me and since he is only one of a few comrades I've met in Rolpa who can do this, I am curious to find out how and why he learned English.
Sanjeevan has been a member of the party for quite a long time--since around 1991. But his path to becoming a full-timer in the People's War has been full of twists and turns.
Sanjeevan was a schoolteacher in his village when he first joined the party. "Although my revolutionary spirit and enthusiasm were very strong," he tells me, "at first, I was not that clear on the correct line for how to make revolution." Because he was a schoolteacher, he was in a party cell (unit) [党小组] with other more educated cadre who, Sanjeevan tells me, had a more intellectual outlook on the party's work. He says, "I would ask them if we could meet more often to discuss the party's line and various documents. But while these comrades talked about revolution, in practice they were doing something else. Sometimes I didn't even get the party documents to read!"
Some other teachers in the area were close to the ruling Nepali Congress party and the reactionary UML (Communist Party of Nepal [United Marxist-Leninist]). They didn't like Sanjeevan's Maoist politics and arranged for him to be transferred to a job in another village, very far away. But as it turned out, this transfer ended up being a good thing--and a turning point for Sanjeevan. In this new village he was under the leadership of comrades with a correct line. And so he was finally able to discuss, struggle over and get clearer on the party's line--and especially what it meant to prepare for and then actually start a people's war.
Some time after this Sanjeevan went to the city to study English literature. When I ask him why he decided to do this he says, "Because I wanted to read all the Marxist/ Leninist/Maoist works which exist in English but aren't translated into Nepali." While in the city he searched for other intellectuals who might want to discuss how to solve the country's problems of poverty, exploitation and government corruption. But every group he talked to was not interested in discussing revolutionary politics--or if they did, it was all talk and no action. Then in February 1996, the People's War was launched and this sent Sanjeevan into an ideological crisis. He tells me:
"I used to sit in my room and I'd be reading and studying all day and then I would go to bed at night and toss and turn all night--thinking about how other comrades were in the countryside waging People's War while I was sitting in a room reading English literature. I would finally fall asleep and dream that I was with the people's army fighting the reactionaries. But then I would wake up and still be in my small rented room in the city. I would think for hours, in turmoil, wrestling with myself about what to do.
"Finally I made a decision. Six months after the initiation I gave away all my books and left school without any notice. I went back to my village and told my family I wanted to join the People's War in the countryside. My mother and father were against me doing this. They told me I should just be a sympathizer, not a full-timer. My wife was also against it. But in the end I had to rebel against all of them and I have been a full-timer in Rolpa ever since."
After more days of travel we are near the border between Rolpa and Rukum. We reach our shelter late at night and in the morning I meet with a room full of revolutionary teachers who have come from the surrounding area.
After the initiation some teachers in this area immediately went underground while others continued to do open, legal work. Now it is increasingly harder to work openly because the government goes after anyone they suspect is sympathetic to the revolution. But in spite of these difficult conditions many teachers in this area heartily support the People's War. One teacher starts off the discussion with the story of an incident that happened shortly after the initiation:
"The reactionary police killed two responsible comrades in this area. At that time informers gave information to the police about who the comrades were and their role in the party's work. Our party then took revenge on these spies--and they were killed. After this, the police went into the village and arrested about 100 people including me. Other teachers in this room were also rounded up.
The police went through the village, looting many things, like knives, cookery, sickles, clothes and musical instruments. All of us refused to give the police any information and so we were brought back to the police post and brutally beaten and tortured, both mentally and physically. They took us outside and when we refused to talk they fired their rifles near our heads and asked us, `What do you wish to tell your family? You are going to die within one minute."
Another teacher in the room who was also arrested continues: "I was taken to the district headquarters and put in a room where they mentally tortured me. They brought the bullets from their rifles to show me and threaten me. Police kept coming into the room and saying, `I will shoot you starting with your toes and go up and up your body until I reach your chest.' They wanted me to make false statements. After 30 days we were brought to the district court and put in jail. Some people were released after paying a high bail. Some were accused of being dacoits (bandits) and killing the spies. Many people were charged in this same case."
The government's repressive campaigns against the People's War have changed the whole way these teachers must do their political work. One teacher says, "Now we revolutionary teachers have to do our political work underground. We are secretly involved in the All Nepal Teachers Organization which is underground and we are also members of the Nepal National Teachers Organization which is legal and open. All the teachers in the ANTO are in close contact with the party.
It is hard to work secretly because the police know about us from the past, but we still do work to help the party. On the one hand we are active in the teachers organization. On the other hand we are party members and area committee members. We collect donations for the party from other teachers and also work in other ways to help the party. We are always on the look-out in the village to be able to give information to the party on the daily situation. There have been different incidents in this district where the police have killed teachers and students. So we try to work legally until the police know about us, but then we have to go underground and become full-timers."
From Peasant Teacher to Underground Full-timer
Pravat, my translator, also used to be a teacher in his village. He tells me he taught a high school class during the day and farmed his land before and after class--from dawn to 10:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m. to sunset. He had a small plot of land, a two-story house and several buffaloes, goats and chickens. He was not rich, but his land and animals provided food and clothes for his family. Soon after the People's War started he had to give this all up.
A short, slender man in his early 40s, Pravat has been underground now for over two and a half years. One night, as we sit outside under a full moon, he tells me how he went from being a simple peasant farmer and schoolteacher to an underground party member, full-time in the People's War. The first thing he tells me is how proud he is of his wife. She is also a full-timer in the party and has been underground since the first day of the initiation--after she participated in an armed action on that day. She is now a leader in the revolutionary women's organization.
After his wife went underground, Pravat continued to live in their house, taking care of his young son and daughter by himself. But about six months later, the police came and arrested him. They tied his hands up and dragged him to a police post quite a distance away. They threatened and questioned him, trying to link him to some incident that had just happened in the area. This was during the monsoon [ (印度等地的)雨季, 季风] season, and at night they left him tied up and standing out in the pouring rain--wearing only his shorts, a tee-shirt and rubber thong sandals. Eventually Pravat was released. But the police filed several charges against him, including "public disturbance" and "treason," so he was forced to go underground. Then later they filed more charges against him, including a false charge for a murder which he knew nothing about. Now it is very dangerous for him to go anywhere near the area where he and his family used to live.
Pravat's house now stands empty in the village. After he left the police came looking for him and, when they found no one at home, they wrecked everything, breaking the cupboards, beds, and other furniture. The two children now live with a relative in another area and see their parents every three or four months--for a day, or only a couple of hours. The children have to be careful, they cannot talk about their parents, so they call the relatives they stay with "mama" and "papa," and they call their real parents "auntie" and "uncle."
Pravat says his children know that their parents are fighting in the People's War and his son already talks about how he wants to learn how to use a gun so he can fight the reactionaries. Pravat and his wife work under different conditions and in different areas so they don't see each other that often, and sometimes only for short visits. But they have a deep bond.
I am struck by the reserved and matter-of-fact way Pravat has of telling the most hair-raising stories. But even when we are joking around there is a serious edge--a side to Pravat that is always tense, fully aware of the danger in his life and the complete commitment he has made to the revolution. By the time Pravat finishes telling me his whole story we have been standing out in the moonlight for about an hour. And as I look high up into the sky, I suddenly feel the depth of Pravat's quiet courage, and there, dancing in the stars, I see the faces of the many, many comrades like Pravat I have met in Nepal.