来自尼泊尔人民战争的报导
第十一篇:战争中的老师们
作者：李 奥内斯托
革命工人 1027期，1999年10月24日
Binita带着她的儿子，1岁的Nand,预备回到村子里的家中。她给这个难哄的孩子喂了一些饼干，使他安静了下来，然后他就高兴奋兴地让抱着，放在Binita胸前的摇篮里（用一块布系着）。现在他已习惯于长时间的旅行。接下来的几天里，我开始了了解了Binita，尽管她还不会说英语——而我还不会说尼泊尔语。她丈夫被敌人杀害还不到一年，象所有积极参加人民战争的妇女一样，把孩子随身带着。她负责党在这一地区妇女群众中的工作，并参加我们的会见。
我和随行人员——人民军队的一个班，翻译Pravat，还有一些其它同志今天向另一个村庄进发。我们离别了许多同志。和我们一起旅行的一支人民军队的文化队要离开我们向另一个方向前进。几位我近几天熟悉的同志要返回他们的村庄。当我们在外面聚集的时候，Binita 走到我跟前和大家一起向我离别，她说的话在接下来的几星期里，引起了其它许多同志的共鸣。“我希望将来有一天我们能有幸再次相会。”她说，“即使我们不能相会，我们也总能可通过我们共同的思想而互相连在一起。”
今天的旅程轻松多了——我们只需走大约6小时，主要是在白天。到达住所后，我们开心地吃了dal baht、咖哩土豆和牛肉。那个地区的一个教师走过来和我聊了起来。我已经在农村碰到过许多教师，他们后来在革命中成为了战士和领导者。经常看到乡村教师不仅仅是通过读和写来结束对他们学生的教育。
这位教师和蔼的面孔和他那强健的身躯形成了鲜明的对比。他声音柔和，但他的形象布满了整个房间，即使当他沉默不语的时候。就象许多遭受过反动派折磨的同志们一样，当他谈起警察的残忍时，极为严厉，脸上一丝笑意都没有。
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。
这位勇敢的教师讲完他的故事后，我告诉他美国的人民群众是如何在美国的监牢里遭受到许多的折磨。我对他说他的故事会鼓舞其它人，因为他表明革命信念给了他与警察抗争的力量，即使是面对死亡也不会给他们提供任何情报。
“我在人民战争所做的事情只是世界革命的一部分。”他说。“我原来以为所有的美国人都是有钱的，但自从碰到了你，看到你从那么远的地方来了解我们的斗争，自从我听到了美国人民的斗争故事——这增强了我奋起反抗敌人的革命决心。你是无产阶级国际主义的榜样，给了我很大的鼓舞。在我们的人民战争中许多人献身了，和他们相比，我所做的事情太微不足道了。现在我不再从事地下活动，而是公开地从事法律工作。但党的工作包括法律工作和地下工作，将来，假如必须的话，我还会转入地下。现在警察正在注重着我，寻找逮捕我的机会，再来折磨我。我发誓，假如这种事情再发生，我决不会向敌人泄露党支部的任何秘密。”
Sanjeevan的故事
第二天早上4：45当我出发向着罗尔泊和鲁孔的边界线前进的时候，天还很黑。我们在到达住所前要经历14个小时的长途跋涉。我们要翻越许多大山。人民军队的一支小队在我们的前后伴护着我们。
在一个地方我们碰到了一条大河，党正在修复河上的桥梁。这坐桥是政府建的，但自从它踏陷后，就再也没人管过。因此现在，象对待罗尔泊地区的许多其它事情一样，人民政权委员会正在发动群众解决这一问题。一队工人正在重建这座桥梁。重建中的桥上铺着几片相距很远的木板，但并未固定。要走过去你得抓紧两侧的栏杆，从一块疏松的木板跳到另一块疏松的木板——不过是河水和岩石上面的一片片木条罢了。当我们走近河边时，我鼓起了勇气，面对着新的挑战，我有点激动。但那时同志们认为度过那坐桥对我来说太危险了。加上那个地方的安全形势：这里靠近一条时常有警察巡逻的大道，因此我们必须非常迅速地通过这片地区。我们不能由于我缺乏经验而冒险。
一位同志招呼我跟着他走。其它所有人也都迅速地向着木桥走去，我们沿着河向上游走了一段，拐了一个弯。这儿的河水不深，冲击着嶙峋的岩石。这位同志脱下鞋，卷起裤子。以为我们是要一起趟过去呢，我也就照他的样子做，把鞋带系在一起，挂在脖子上。我们朝着河水走去，当我的脚踩到凸凹不平的岩石时，不由有点退宿。当我们走到河边，那位同志弯下腰，要我爬到他的背上。他不是一个大个子，但强壮得令人难以置信。他背着我稳步地，弯弯曲曲地穿过激流，走到河对岸。
当我们到达河对岸，我们爬了一小段山路和其它的同志们会合，他们早已迅速地穿过了小桥。当我们到达山顶时，我们看到他们坐在树阴下——看上去他们整个早上都舒适地坐在那儿等着我们。当我们走上前去的时候，我已经有点喘不过气来了，这时有人给我递来一杯水，我自我解嘲地说：“我知道你们这些小伙子的鬼主意了。我本来也可以度过那坐桥的......这不过是你们想得到额外休息的小花招而已”。所有人都大笑起来。
那天晚些时候，在我们休息的一个间歇，我请Sanjeevan给我讲讲他怎样成为一位“党的负责同志”的经历。Sanjeevan，29岁，当我们到达罗尔泊时就和我们一起旅行，是对我非常友好的一位同志，帮助我翻山越岭，总是非常关心我的健康和生活。他眼里闪出愉快的光线，开心的笑着，迷人的笑脸和激动融合在一起。我帮我做过翻译，由于他是我在罗尔泊碰到的能做这项工作的几位同志之一，我很想知道他是如何和为何学习英语的。
Sanjeevan很久以前就是一位党员了——大约在1991年左右。但他参加人民战争的过程却布满了曲折。
Sanjeevan第一次入党的时候是村里的一位教师。他告诉我，“虽然我的革命精神与革命热情都非常强烈，但开始的时候，我对怎样进行革命的正确路线却熟悉不清楚。”由于他是教师，他和其它受过较好教育的干部分配在同一个小组里，Sanjeevan告诉我，他们对党的工作有着更‘聪明’的熟悉。他说，“我问他们我们能否经常见面以讨论党的路线和各种文件。但当这些同志谈论起革命时，他们实际上做的是另一些事情。有时我甚至读不到党的文件！”
当地其它教师与尼泊尔统治者议会党派和反动的联合马列（尼泊尔共产党[联合马列主义]）关系亲密。他们不喜欢Sanjeevan的毛主义政治观点，安排他到另一个非常遥远的村庄里工作。但结果是，这次安排变成了好事情，它成了Sanjeevan生活的转折点。在这个新的村庄里，他受到了代表正确路线的同志们的领导。因此，他最终能够讨论，奋力学习，更加清楚地明白党的路线——尤其是预备并实际实行人民战争意味着什么。
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：
“我过去常坐在书斋里整天读呀，研究呀，夜里躺在床上，我就翻来覆去地想，其它同志正在农村地区发动人民战争，而我却坐在书斋里学习英语文学。最后在梦里还梦见自己和人民军队一起同反动派战斗。然后醒过来，还是在城里的租住房里。我会几个小时地想来想去，思想混乱，脑子里布满了激烈斗争，该怎么办呢？
“最后我下了决心。人民战争发动6个月后，我丢下了所有的书籍，谁也没告诉一声就离开了学校。我回到家乡告诉家人说我要参加农村的人民战争，父母亲都反对我这样做。他们告诉我我应该是一个人民战争同情者，而不是参与者。我妻子也反对我这样做。但最终， 我拒绝了他们所有人的建议，成了罗尔泊地区的一位人民战争参与者。”
勇敢的教师们
又行走了几天，我们接近了罗尔泊和鲁孔的边境。夜深的时候，我们到达了住所，清早，我会见了一屋子从四周地区赶来的革命教师们。
人民战争发动后，这一地区的一些教师迅速转入了地下，而其它教师继续进行着公开的、合法的斗争。现在公开工作变得更加困难了，因为政府在追捕所有涉嫌同情革命者。尽管形势如此困难，这一地区的许多教师还是热情支持着人民战争。一位教师以人民战争发动后不久发生的一件故事开始了他的讲话。
“反动警察杀害了这一地区的负责同志。那时候，告密者把谁是革命者以及他们在党内担任的职务这些情报提供给警察。我们党对这些间谍实行了报复，杀掉了他们。这之后，警察又来村里，逮捕了100人左右，也包括我。这个房子里其它教师也遭到围捕。”
警察穿过村庄，抢了很多东西，诸如刀子、烹具、镰刀、乐器之类。我们都拒绝给警察提供任何情况，因此，我们被带到警所，无论在精神上还是在肉体上都遭到野蛮的殴打和折磨，他们把我们带到外面，我们仍拒绝回答。他们就在我们脑袋旁边放枪，并问我们，‘你们还想对家人说些什么？不到一分钟你们就都要死去了。’
房间里另一位也遭逮捕的教师继续讲道：“我被带到地区指挥部，关在一个房间里，遭到精神上的折磨。他们从枪里拿出子弹，对我进行威胁。警察不断来到房间里，对我讲，‘我会先用枪打你的脚，一点一点沿着你的身体向上，直到你的胸脯。’他们要求我发表虚假的声明。30天后，我们被到地区法院，关在了监狱里。有些人支付了高昴的保释金就被释放了。有些被指控抢劫，并杀死侦察。在这同一个案件里，很多人都受到了指控。”
政府对人民战争的镇压行动完全改变这些教师们从事政治工作的方法。一位教师说，“现在我们这些革命教师在地下从事政治工作。我们秘密地和处于地下的全尼泊尔教师协会取得联系，我们又是公开的、合法的尼泊尔国家教师组织的成员，全尼泊尔教师协会的所有成员都与党保持着密切的联系。
从事秘密工作很困难，因为警察知道我们的过去，但我们还是继续帮助党做工作。一方面，我们在教师组织中积极活动，另一方面我们是党员和地方委员会成员。我们在其它教师中为党募捐，还通过其它方式做帮助党的工作。我们总是注重观察着村子里的动静，这样就能够为党提供日常的情况。这一地区还有不同的警察杀害学生和老师的事件。所以在警察发现我们的身份之前，尽量做着合法的工作，但后来就传入了地下，成了专业的革命工作者。”
从农民教师到地下工作者
我的翻译Pravat过去也是村子里的一名教师。他告诉我那时他教高中，上课前后种地：从早晨到上午10点，从下午3点到太阳落山。他有一小片土地，一座两层的房子，几只水牛、山羊和小鸡。他并不富裕，但他的土地和家畜为家人提供了吃的和穿的。人民战争爆发后不久，他放弃了所有的这些。
Pravat个子不高，瘦瘦的，40出头，从事地下工作已经两年半了。一天夜里，天空中挂着一轮圆月，我们坐在一起，他给我讲了他是怎样从一位普通农民和学校教师成为一名党的地下工作者和人民战争的参加者。他对我讲的第一件事是他为妻子感到自豪。她也是一名党员，从人民战争发动的第一天（她参加了那天的军事行动）起就转入了地下。她现在是革命妇女组织的一位领导人。
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。
Pravat在村里的房子现在空着无人居住。他离开后，警察来找他，当他们发现家里空无一人时，他们破坏了所有的东西：打粹了食橱、床铺和其它家俱。两个孩子现在住在另一地区的亲戚家里，每三四个月来看望他们的父母亲一次——一天，或仅几个小时。孩子们得十分小心，他们不能谈起父母，他们把和他们生活一起的亲戚叫做“妈妈”“爸爸”，而把真正的父母叫做“阿姨”“叔叔”。
Pravat说他的孩子知道父母亲在为人民战争而战斗，他的儿子已说过他想学习打枪，这样他就能够与反动派作战了。 Pravat和他的妻子在非常困难的条件下在不同的地区工作，所以他们不能常见面，有时只能短暂地见次面，但他们之间的关系很深厚。
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。
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To be continued.
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Dispatches: Report from the People's War in Nepal
Part 11:
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."
Sanjeevan's Story
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."
Brave Teachers
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.
