As a few of you personally know, and as I am positive many of you might imagine, Oda is a beautiful place. It is nestled among towering, yet forgiving, green hills; a calm and welcoming river runs just below it, and every night the Milky Way struts its stuff from above it. At no moment are you without a panoramic view of unfettered beauty, the kind of beauty so rare to find living in the same quarters as mankind. Oda’s pure and natural magnificence, however, is not the reason that I am here; nor is it the reason, without wanting to speak for him, that John created The Oda Foundation in the first place.
In my humble and still very early-on-opinion, it seems as though there is a beauty in Oda that far surpasses the eye; a beauty that remains present on the foggiest of days and the cloudiest of nights. In this village there is a radiance that glows from its very own people; an internal beauty so far surpassing its enviable environs that words can only hope to crack the surface.
In August I spoke with John over the phone about the prospects of joining his team in Oda. In the midst of our conversation I asked him a question to the tune of, “How did you end up in this particular village?” His answer was, paraphrasing, “It was an emotional connection.” Now, those of you who know John know there is no way his answer capped off at five words. And you’re certainly right; his answer was nothing shy of a short novel, but when he summed it up as, “an emotional connection,” it was those five words that stuck with me.
I am just now starting to see the depth behind those five words. I’d like to say that I am becoming attune to the swirling personalities and endearing characters that are to be listed as first and second in Oda’s ingredient list. What follows them are ingredients of great importance: the medical facility, the classroom, the office - and of physical description: the hills, the river, the jungle and sky; yet they are not Oda’s defining ingredients.
I’ve only had a short 35 days to meet and appreciate the personalities and characters that define Oda. In that time we’ve shared meals, gone on a camping trip, spent many hours in the classroom together, walked around the village, shook hands, held hands, played games. We’ve engaged in hundreds of choppy conversations, going back and forth from English to Nepali, this facial expression to that, confusion to comprehension. We’ve shared laughs and tea and gum that goes dry too quickly. We’ve shared knowledge of one another’s language and culture and we ultimately share an enthusiasm to cultivate that emotional connection.
Don’t we all want to see happiness, health and success brought to those with whom we share that emotional connection? It has appeared to me that, yes, take out the context and the fluffy stuff and you have an INGO working in an extremely remote and extremely poor region of Nepal, a region that so perfectly qualifies for such work.
But, push aside the black and white assessment and you have one man who was captivated by the human spirit that could be found in such a region’s village. You have an INGO that from the top down, from its founder to its fellows, continues to develop (both consciously and subliminally) an emotional connection with the inhabitants of that village. And it seems as though it was inevitable.
Out here we are driven by a force that is hard to define, a transcendental energy if I had to give it a try; for a human connection is a human connection, no matter where you are on this tiny, pale blue dot.