The first royalty cheque for Dragon Bones was for 502 copies sold over 6 months. That’s about 10% of my big goal of 5000 sales. My main driver for selling so many copies (it is a lot for an unknown writer) was to ensure substantial support for Bhutanese organisations. To put this in perspective, my full target of 150,000 Nu was equivalent to 18 months base salary for a government employee. The recent strength of the Australian dollar makes the royalties worth far more in Ngultrum so I’ve decided to donate the entire first royalty cheque instead of just half.

This first cheque is going to RENEW. I mentioned RENEW a number of times in Dragon Bones for its work in addressing issues relating to the treatment of women. The organisation is currently partnering with two Australians to provide assistance to girls in rural Bhutan. The money will be used to fund school books, uniforms, meals and boarding facilities as required.

I would encourage others to donate to this cause. The Australian Himalayan Foundation will take donations online and, as a registered charity, can provide a tax receipt to Australian residents. Your money will help educate children who live up to two days walk from the nearest road. A$100 will support one girl for a full year. Please help out.

I didn’t see what befell the old man, but he’s being helped off the highway crossing by two others as I walk around the corner. He doesn’t appear to know his helpers and doesn’t acknowledge either. As soon as he reaches the curb, he grabs hold of a railing and tries to support himself.

I try to work out what has happened before I offer help. Is the man hurt or in shock or just slow? Was one of the men who helped him off the road a friend? Did the two of them have the situation under control and would they resent interference. Two men and a woman in business suit approach from behind me and offer their help. There’s a hospital just across the road – I wonder if that’s where he came from – would he like them to take him there? It seems to me that the old man really wants to be left alone with a chance to redeem his pride, and he has enough assistance so I go on my way, but with a smile.

Too often I write about how life in Australia frustrates me. We’re usually too focused on ourselves and I miss the culture of Bhutan, where people always have time for one another. I might prefer the passersby to be more aware of the situation before stepping in, but I’m glad to see my countrymen looking out for others. And perhaps I should do something myself. Am I wrong not to step in and offer help? Am I wrong not to ask the others to give the old man some space?

After word: While looking for images for this post, I found an article from China saying that people now don’t offer help to others out of fear they’ll be blamed for whatever happened in the first place. With the growing practice of suing in Western society, I wonder how long it will be before we go that way too. I’m even more happy now to see my countrymen are Good Samaritans.

One person’s belief is another person’s superstition. This became clear during one of my classes for my anthropology degree. I’ve never been one to avoid black cats or walking under ladders. I do have a tendency to avoid cracks in the pavement, but that’s more a mild OCD than superstition. It’s been very difficult to find something that I believe that others would call superstition, but that’s why my opening sentence is so true.

Yesterday, my father and his wife had a combined 70th/60th birthday party with a hippy theme. Fiona and I decided to fly up so that she wouldn’t lose valuable assignment-writing time on the road. We’d taken time out of our schedules to scrounge bits and pieces for our costumes and were looking forward to catching up with all my relatives.

As we were waiting in line to be checked by Security, Fiona swore. We were coming back the following day so we only had carry on luggage and she’d forgotten to remove her nail scissors. Sure enough, they were taken away before we were allowed into the airport.

We rushed through to our gate lounge and found that our flight wasn’t listed. It had been cancelled due to fog at our destination. The airline instead gave us lunch vouchers and booked us on a flight that didn’t arrive until after the party had started.

“That’s two,” Fiona told me. “I’m not looking forward to the third problem.”

“There won’t be a third one,” I said, ever optimistic.

“There will. Good things and bad things always come in threes.”

Even after two years in Bhutan, where I discovered the power of superstition, I scoffed at the idea. “Only if you want them to.” I left her to settle in a quiet corner of the airport where she could continue working on her assignment and spent the next 8 hours wandering around the small airport, returning regularly to the bookshop. It didn’t have Dragon Bones in stock, I noticed.

Fiona was still nervous when we got on the plane and even I breathed a sigh of relief when we actually took off. Mum would pick us up from the airport and rush us to the hotel where we’d get changed and hopefully arrive at the party in time for dinner. The plane began it’s descent through the clouds and I caught Fiona’s nerves. If there was a third problem, it had to come soon.

Suddenly, the plane picked up speed and angled upwards. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the flight attendant announced, “the cloud cover is too low and your safety is our first priority so we’re heading back to Sydney.”

Fiona looked across at me and didn’t need to say “I told you so.” One person’s superstition is another person’s belief.

What belief do you have that others might call superstition?

Recently, I’ve been reading a lot about Bhutanese/Nepali refugees settling into new homes. It’s news I’ve waited years to hear, but that’s short compared to the time these people have waited to feel welcome somewhere.

While I’m always sympathetic to the plight of refugees, I generally don’t think that them fleeing, or repatriating them, is the best option. I said this in a recent post and I’ll say it again until someone shows me why I’m wrong. The Southern Bhutanese case is different. These people didn’t flee. They were pushed out by a government that saw them as a threat to its independence.

As with most events in life, everyone tells a different story. The facts, as far as I can piece them together, are that in the latter half of last century India annexed Sikkhim and Assam and China annexed Tibet. Bhutan was worried that it would be next so they began enforcing the Code of Conduct that dictated citizens adhere to traditional ways – speaking Dzongkha, wearing ghos and kiras etc – in order to reinforce its cultural distinction.

Nepali immigrants who lived mostly in the south, where it’s too hot for the traditional dress, wanted to maintain their own traditional religion, festivals and to (at least occasionally) dress in traditional Nepali costumes.

In 1990, the Bhutanese king decided to remove any non-Bhutanese people and pushed them into India to find their own way. I’ve heard many reasons for this including fear of a planned Southern-Bhutanese revolution to create democracy; fear that India would use the Southern Bhutanese as an excuse to claim Bhutan was culturally part of India; the need to get rid of illegal immigrants; and that they chose to leave themselves. Beyond the Sky and the Earth is an outdated book in many ways, but it is excellent reading if you want a view of these events from the point of view of an expat living in Bhutan at the time.

These immigrants and their families headed back to Nepal, but were not welcomed. They’ve been living in refugee camps for the last twenty years, unacknowledged by either government. I can’t validate any of the reasons for these people leaving or being pushed out, but the number of stories I heard of the Bhutanese government’s refusal to even discuss the issue made me sympathise with the refugees.

They became pawns in political battles that were ostensibly meant for their own benefit. Even when I lived in Bhutan, I heard that new home countries had been found for 90% of the 100,000 refugees, but no country wanted to take the first step. They wanted Bhutan to admit some responsibility for these people and to take a small percentage back before they themselves began repatriation. I’m not sure what has changed, but I’m happy to see that these refugees are finally able to get on with their lives. From what I’ve seen, they’re making great efforts to become involved in the society of their new homes.

Only months before I moved to Bhutan I was introduced to the country by an article that gushed about Gross National Happiness, a concept created by the Bhutanese king in 1972 to guide development. Rather than measuring economic growth, Bhutan aimed for happiness through the four pillars — natural environment, good governance, cultural values and sustainable development. The idea made a lot of sense to me and while it wasn’t pivotal to my decision to move there, it gave me something else to investigate.

Gross Domestic Product, the dominant measure of progress in the West counts industry and the cost of cleaning up pollution as a positive. In this time of concern about our impact on the environment, it makes more sense to consider this cost of cleaning up (or not cleaning up) our mess as a negative against progress. The same goes for any waste of non-renewable resources as an asset squandered loses its value as an asset. Just look at Brunei which has almost run out of oil and has to create a new economy.

During my time in Bhutan GNH guided policy in decisions such as banning plastic shopping bags and limiting the cutting down of trees for firewood to one per family per year. It had previously guided the introduction of television and the internet into Bhutan while blocking MTV and other channels that might distract people from the pursuit of true happiness. The government told us that 70% of the country was covered by forest, which was above the target of 60%, but that still didn’t feel like a real measure of happiness.

This morning I stumbled on an article by an American sent to advise the government on, and to study, the link between ecosystem, economics and happiness. It seems that GNH is now approaching a level where it can be called a science of happiness. Rather than just measuring tree cover, Bhutan’s goal is now to remove more carbon from the atmosphere than it emits and to produce only organic food.

Happiness makes for an odd science with a subjective definition and a moving goal, but I’d love to live in a country that accounts for “benefits people derive from nature – clean air, water and soil; a stable climate; recreational and spiritual opportunities to connect with nature”. Will you let me live with you again one day, Bhutan?

Could the Bhutanese belief in their Shangri-La status be naive? Bhutanese lama Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse Rinpoche asked this question in the Bhutan Observer on Friday. It’s very similar to one of the central themes of Dragon Bones and he raises many of the points that I describe anecdotally. There’s a snake in this garden of Eden.

The simplest view of this analogy would be to say that the snake is the influence of the West and ‘modernity’. Non-Bhutanese values including materialism and addictions to drugs and porn have arrived in recent decades as Bhutan has opened itself to the world. People buy Toyota Prados, send their children abroad to private schools and go on shopping sprees to Bangkok, notes Rinpoche, but this is just the obvious face of the real problem.

The real snake is internal. It’s the Bhutanese belief in their right to these luxuries that is so contrary to Bhutanese values. Rinpoche notes, as I did, that Bhutanese now think that they’re above manual labour and import Indians to do such work for them. Once they’ve bought their Prados, they believe they have more right to the road than others and use their car’s size to take right of way.

I saw the government trying to fight this change of values by limiting exposure to materialism and consumer culture through, for instance, choice of television channels. Yet it was that same government, before democracy came to Bhutan, that told foreigners that if they didn’t appreciate the privilege they had in sharing their personal time and money to help Bhutan they should just go home – that others would come in their place. Undoubtedly true, but the belief was counter to their efforts to fight their snake.

Rinpoche looks at Nepal and sees problems caused by letting a divide grow too strong between the haves and have-nots. He questions whether Bhutanese have lost their way and are now too focused on maintaining their privileges to help their poorer neighbours. Nepal is suffering growing pains, but does Bhutan have to do the same or can they learn from Nepal’s situation and avoid it as they’ve so far managed to avoid the fate of Sikkim, Assam and Tibet?

I’m happy to see young Bhutanese coming to Australia and falling in love with my country. I’m even happier to see that they don’t lose their connection to their homeland or their desire to go back as soon as they can. If they’ve been paying attention to Australia’s problems, perhaps the experience will guide them on the path that Rinpoche hopes for his countrymen.

I’m very excited to say that the first copies of Dragon Bones have been shipped. This is a good time to announce that 50% of the royalties for all editions of Dragon Bones will go to Bhutanese organisations.

Two years living in Bhutan convinced me that local people are best placed to identify and address the issues that the country faces. International organisations may like to think that they know what’s best for a developing nation, but they’re really just pushing Western values onto another culture. Following are some of the organisations I believe can help.

VAST was created to provide vocational skills to Bhutanese youth. This seemed important at a time when the number of graduates was surpassing the government’s capacity for employment. I wanted to help directly, but I didn’t feel confident enough to try teaching a writing class at the time.

I only discovered the Tarayana Foundation towards the end of my stay. Candles on sale at a market had been produced by a Tarayana community. The foundation tries to bring remote communities into the new economy by promoting artisan skills.

RENEW‘s mission is to better the lives of victims of domestic violence, but I found it worked to resolve any kind of victimisation of minority groups.

I intend to divide the donations among these and any other worthy organisations I discover. To make my donations worthwhile, I aim to sell 5000 copies of Dragon Bones. This isn’t easy for a new author, so I need all your help to get the word out. Please do any of the following in your power:

• Share my blog using the addthis buttons below each post
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• Tell your friends and colleagues
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• Post this flyer in your workplace or community centre
• Ask your library or local bookshop to order a copy

When the first numbers come in, I’ll display a progress meter on the site. Look out for it.

A small ceremony in Armidale gave me new perspective on ANZAC Day. I’ve always understood it as a day to remember the fallen soldiers and the sacrifice they made for our countries. When in Bhutan, I began to see it as a day to look towards a peaceful future.

The service began at 9am, well after the traditional dawn start, but we still arrived late, hot on the heels of our hosts. Near us were the other holiday-makers staying at the same B&B – a Frenchman, an Indonesian and a German family wanting to immerse themselves in Australian culture. I was heartened to stand shoulder to shoulder at a service for a war our grandfathers fought against each other, all now forgiven.

Perhaps because we now have a female Prime Minister, this year’s service had a focus on women. The first speaker was a female minister and most who followed were women. And they spoke of ex-servicewomen where in past years they would have spoken of ex-servicemen. Even the tough old farmers seemed comfortable with this change of focus from the usual masculinity.

The minister gave me the new perspective. She saw ANZAC Day as a time to celebrate shared struggle. She likened the shared struggle of the people of the world in the recent earthquakes and bushfires to the spirit of the Anzacs. On this day, we remember the efforts of all soldiers, whether they fell or not, and – I like to think – no matter which side they fought on.

In a new twist, one of the speakers, a woman of course, gave the story of one of the local soldiers. Each year, apparently, this historian picks one of the soldiers whose name appears on the memorial and gives it a personality and a history. This year it was of Lt. W. H. Lane of the 53rd who was one of two brothers who gave their lives to the war.

Archery is the national sport of Bhutan, but that wasn’t the only reason I wanted to try it while I was living there. I’ve loved the stories of King Arthur, Robin Hood and the Three Musketeers since I first heard them decades ago so I have always wanted to try fencing and archery. I looked into learning fencing while I was living in Europe, but the training centres were in inconvenient suburbs and I couldn’t justify buying a car solely to get to lessons. Bhutan might have been my chance to learn archery, but I only ever saw people shooting the full 150m distance to the target and there was very little room for error. I decided that the safety of onlookers was more important than my desire to try my hand at a bow and arrow.

Nathan Ward, an American friend in Bhutan, and I did try in his back yard one afternoon. We’d bought traditional equipment from the Thimphu markets and aimed at plants on the side of the hill from 5m away. I missed every shot by about a metre and then found that the tips had come off my arrows and lodged in the dirt. Bhutanese friends had told me to attach them with melted sugar and even then I wondered if they were having me on.

My wish came true four years later. Fiona gave me lessons as a present last christmas. It’s turned out to be a great sport for us to do together as it has no gender bias. Accuracy is more about balance and co-ordination than strength or speed. Last weekend, after a few lessons, we both passed our qualification test. We had to score 450 out of a possible 900 points by shooting ninety arrows at a target from 20m and we both cracked 600. Now we can practise whenever we like. Since neither of us are really into team sports, this is another opportunity to join the Aussie outdoor sporting culture in our own way.

I knew when I wrote Dragon Bones that it wouldn’t be loved by everyone. My collection of people’s perspectives was meant to be holistic, not good or bad, but some people were bound to object. It was likely that I would never be able to return to Bhutan – that they would never issue me a visa. While I was there, I often heard the whispered stories of expats who’d been deported. Friends had been told that they’d be sent home if they didn’t have their articles approved before publication. Only praise could be shared without retribution. Sonam Ongmo wrote in her latest post, “anybody who has been more than vocal on certain policy or social justice issues, or written a controversial story, has probably received that phone call or letter asking them to keep a lid on things, or to shut-up.”

Then, well before my book was due to be released, I got word that the Bhutanese living in Australia were upset by the description on Amazon. I’ve since managed to get that changed to better reflect the balanced nature of the book, but still haven’t heard anything from those who were upset. More recently, I’ve discovered blogs by Bhutanese people who are willing to write about the reality of life in Bhutan. It’s a beautiful place with wonderful people, but those people aren’t all the same and they’re surrounded by other people, all with their own motivations. Bhutan is a real country with real issues. It’s a fascinating place that deserves to be known properly.

Even better than reading these blogs was getting messages of encouragement from these Bhutanese. One wrote to me saying that she was sick of foreigners coming in to the country and writing articles about Bhutan without really understanding it. She also wanted to read an unbiased view. I can’t provide that – I doubt anybody can – but I have tried to capture as much of the diversity of perspectives as I could in 250 pages.

Sonam Ongmo’s post has given me hope that my book will be appreciated more broadly by the Bhutanese population and even the government – or at least, not condemned. Her main point is that the media is struggling with decorum but that the government is grappling with criticism. I can well believe it. She goes on to cite the World Free Press index and shows that Bhutan, once ranked very low has climbed dramatically since the introduction of a democratically elected government. Sonam Ongmo hopes that the government will learn to accept criticism and so do I. It may be that one day I’ll be welcomed back to Bhutan.