JOURNAL HIGHLIGHTS: Roads I Have Traveled ...Excerpt # 1 from March, 1995

by Dr. James W. Jackson

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist

(Project C.U.R.E. never ships medical goods into any foreign country unless we have personally gone there and completed an intensive needs assessment study on that particular hospital or clinic. Additionally, we never go anyplace unless we are invited. This is a good example of how we determine where we will go and what we will provide. Shaul Amir has become a very dear friend over the past twenty years and we have shipped, and continue to ship, millions of dollars of donated medical goods into Israel.)

Israel: March, 1995: Why would Project C.U.R.E. go to Israel? It really isn’t a typical third-world country as you would think of third-world countries. It is very westernized, and the people enjoy a relatively high standard of living. Compared to many of the other countries Project C.U.R.E. helps, Israel didn’t need us at all. They should have been helping Project C.U.R.E. help other countries that really need our help.

Those thoughts, and many others similar in nature, had been running through my mind as I prepared for this trip. The background of this trip and my involvement had been rather unusual.

About three years earlier, a woman by the name of Judi Fenner had come to me, along with her attorney and one of her organization’s board members, seeking some advice on taking her ministry international. Aside from her proposed ministry, she teaches private tennis lessons to earn a living. Apparently she is very successful at her tennis coaching and has in her stable of competitive young stars quite a number of kids from Denver’s Jewish community. The Jewish community loves her. She is developing their kids, mostly in their late teens and early twenties, into champions.

Following a very successful tournament, one of the Jewish families threw a victory party. For some reason Judi Fenner and another woman named Beverly Ratalia invited, no, insisted that Anna Marie and I come join them.

As a result of that party, I met Shaul Amir, who was visiting the US from Israel. Shaul is the resource development director for the Assaf Harofeh Medical Center in Tel Aviv and is responsible for funding and developing the institution. Beverly and Judi had told Shaul all about Project C.U.R.E. and about our mission to collect and distribute medical supplies and equipment throughout the world.

My first official meeting with Shaul was filled with enough craziness as to be unforgettable. The woman who was managing his itinerary during his Denver stay arranged with Shaul for a meeting with me at the Friends of Israel office in Denver for Wednesday at 2:30 p.m. However, she informed me that the meeting would take place on Thursday at 2:30 p.m. So my son Jay and I showed up for the meeting … and stood around, stood around, and stood around waiting for someone to show up at the reception area of the office. No one showed.

I was just wandering down the hallway, trying to find someone to whom we could convey our growing impatience, when I heard someone down the hallway. Jay and I looked at each other and headed into a small back office. The man in the office was so startled by our appearance that he jumped up from the table where he was working and headed toward us. He was working at a word-processing machine, which was sitting on a makeshift desk, with the electric cord stretched across from the table to a wall outlet across the room. The cord was short, so when it was plugged into the socket, there was not enough cord to lay on the floor. It made a perfect booby-trap trip wire.

As the man was extending his hand and opening his mouth, saying that his name was Shaul, his foot got all caught up in the electric cord. Before the entire word Shaul got out of his mouth, keyboard and monitor, papers and books went flying everywhere. A less agile fellow would have sprawled out on the floor in the midst of all the mess. That certainly took the starch out of the introduction. I told Shaul who Jay and I were while we helped him pick up the broken pieces of the processor. “But … but … you were supposed to be here yesterday at 2:30 for our meeting. We were all here waiting for you.”

I pulled out my note from the woman and showed him the scheduled meeting in my appointment book. As far as I knew the meeting was on Thursday.

We quickly brushed past that foible and moved on to a very productive meeting—probably, because of the crazy circumstances, it was a better meeting than we would have had the day before in a more sane setting.

Shaul explained that his hospital was in a very desperate situation. They were treating a lot of refugees on a gratis basis. Supplies were short, and equipment was either lacking or terribly outdated. Would Project C.U.R.E. help? He also told of the phenomenon of Israelis and PLO personnel working side by side at his hospital.

I explained the requirement that I personally visit an institution to do a thorough Needs Assessment Study before Project C.U.R.E would ship any goods. And I asked him if he had any friends in the Denver Jewish community who would be able to underwrite the expenses of such a study trip. He said he was quite sure he did not but wanted to visit Project C.U.R.E.’s facilities while he was still in town.

At the warehouse Shaul began smacking his lips at the sight of our available inventory. He quickly spotted enough pieces of equipment and disposable supplies to easily fill a twenty-foot cargo container. Now he really wanted Project C.U.R.E. to help.

Before Shaul returned to Israel, Beverly Ratalia had him scheduled on a Christian radio talk show. The talk-show host had a history of trying to help develop aid to hurting areas of Israel. In the course of the show, the subject of Project C.U.R.E. and the possibility of their helping Shaul’s hospital came up. The show host pledged the first two hundred dollars toward raising the needed money for the needs assessment trip.

I had told Shaul that both Jay and I would come to Israel, and if he could raise the needed money for one of the airfares, I would match the donation from somewhere and cover the cost of the other airfare. So Shaul needed to raise $1,400. Before the talk show went off the air, listeners had agreed to underwrite exactly $1,400 for the airfare. I thought to myself, That didn’t even come from the Jewish community. This whole effort was an endeavor of love from the Christian community to the people living in Israel.

Even while I was traveling in Russia the week prior to this trip, I found myself looking forward to the Israel trip. It was going to be delightful having Jay, my son and father of my two fabulous grandkids, traveling with me. A little over a year before, Jay traveled with me to Brazil. That trip became a turning point in his life in many ways. Perhaps this trip, in different ways, would be equally significant. 

 
 © Dr. James W. Jackson  

Permissions granted by Winston-Crown Publishing House

  

www.jameswjackson.com  

Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com

JOURNAL HIGHLIGHTS: Roads I Have Traveled . . . Excerpt # 2 from Nepal 2002

by Dr. James W. Jackson

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist

NEPAL: (cont.) More violence and killing by the Maoists in Nepal. We were also following the newspaper reports from India regarding the increased murders and torchings right where we had been just hours before.

Sunday morning Anna Marie and I spent some quiet time together in devotions at the Summit Hotel. Our verandah looked north toward the majestic Himalayan mountain range. I tried to point out to her where I had been at the village camps near the foot of the great Mt. Everest and also on a map where I had crossed over the scary summits of the Himalayas when I traveled from India’s Kulu Valley over into Tibet.

At 10 a.m. Anna Marie and I arrived at the Patan Hospital to perform Project C.U.R.E.’s needs assessment study. Their little “palace hospital” had grown up to be a full-fledged 300 bed facility with eight specialty teams in surgery, pediatrics, medicine, OB-GYN, ICU-anesthesia, outpatient/trauma, orthopedics, dentistry, radiology, and pathology.

There were other hospitals in Kathmandu, but Patan Hospital had earned a splendid reputation and was doing some great medical work. Last year they had treated 266,000 outpatients, 33,000 emergency cases, 20,000 dental patients, and cared for 17,000 inpatients. I told the CEO, B.B. Khawas, and other staff members just how very proud Project C.U.R.E. was to be considering working alongside the Patan Hospital.

The way Project C.U.R.E. had become involved with the Kathmandu project was so very typical of how we became involved in projects all over the world. We never advertised and we never went where we had not been invited. Now, that still meant that the word had to get out some way.

In the Nepal case, a wonderful couple, Mr. and Mrs. Jim Hecht who lived in Denver, had been introduced to the Patan Hospital and traveled to Kathmandu to visit. Montview Presbyterian Church in Denver, Colorado, had gotten excited about the work of the hospital and raised $160,000, which they sent to Nepal for Patan Hospital to build a pediatric department. Even the women of the church got busy and quilted blankets to be sent.

It just so happens … Jim Hecht was a good friend of my good friend, Jim Peters, with whom I traveled to Belgrade, Yugoslavia. Project C.U.R.E. pumped about $500,000 in medical goods into Yugoslavia and Serbia. You are smart enough to figure out “the rest of the story.”

The Patan Hospital was a natural for Project C.U.R.E.’s involvement. I went away from the needs assessment really excited about what could be done in the future to help 22 million Nepalese in the only country in the world that considered itself an official Hindu state. We pledged together that we would start immediately to work on the possibilities of getting Project C.U.R.E. involved with the Patan Hospital on a long-term basis. Anything that Project C.U.R.E. would put into the Patan project would pay great dividends both now and forever more.

Monday, March 25

Anna Marie and I were both exhausted. I needed some time to complete all the paperwork that had resulted from the days in India and Nepal. Monday morning was spent trying to catch up.

That evening we took Dr. Zimmerman and Deirdre out to dinner in Kathmandu. There we heard the story of how she was born and raised in Ireland and eventually had decided to go to Africa on a mission. But providence dictated otherwise and she ended up going to the Patan Hospital as their dietitian. Of course, she met this handsome young doctor from the US who was the medical director at the Patan Hospital. He got a taste for the dietitian, and she figured the union would make for a well-balanced program, so they got hitched. It was a beautiful love story.

Tuesday/Wednesday, March 26, 27

Tuesday and Wednesday were spent traveling back home. Our trip had taken us completely around the world from Denver to Frankfurt to India to Nepal, to Bangkok, to Tokyo, to Seattle, and finally to Denver and Evergreen. As you know, we had the privilege of living March 27 twice on our way home. But sometimes you need that when you are slow learners and need another day to play catch-up!

Having Anna Marie on the trip had been as wonderful as I had imagined it would be. She was such a trooper and every day God had allowed me to be with her made me appreciate all the more every single day of the past 42 years that we had been married. Faithfully following God was paying great dividends and as everyone in the world with half a brain and one eye would know, we certainly did live a privileged life.

Next Week: Project C.U.R.E. never goes anywhere unless invited. 

 

 © Dr. James W. Jackson   

Permissions granted by Winston-Crown Publishing House

  

www.jameswjackson.com  

Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com

JOURNAL HIGHLIGHTS: Roads I Have Traveled . . . Excerpt from Nepal March 2002

by Dr. James W. Jackson

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist

Royal Nepal Airlines flight #202 departed Bombay at 5:20 p.m. destined for Nepal.

Stepping off the airplane in Katmandu was like a breath of fresh air after being in India for nearly ten days. No longer were the temperatures 104 degrees Fahrenheit. There was actually a cool evening breeze wafting through the valley nestled at the foot of the Himalayan range and the great Mt. Everest.

Equally refreshing was the quickly consummated friendship with Dr. Mark Zimmerman and his Irish born wife Deirdre. They were at the terminal holding up a sign for us as we walked out of security after having cleared Customs. Once in the auto it didn’t take us long to realize that by traveling into Katmandu we had jumped right into another of the world’s political “hot spots.” Fourteen “Maoist rebels” had been shot to death by Nepalese soldiers the day before.

In 1996 the radical leftist party in Nepal, called the Nepal Communist Party (Maoist) or NCP-M had became frustrated with not being able to seize more power within the structure of the government of Nepal. They had decided to launch a guerrilla terrorist movement against the people and the government, styled after the model of China’s revolutionary leader Mao Tse-tung. Their goal was to topple the constitutional monarchy by hiding out in Nepal’s mountainous locations and performing deadly attacks of terror on government leaders, civil facilities, military outposts and other high profile targets.

As was always the case, militant groups would feed on their own terrorist activities and the violence would always escalate into more frequent and more severe atrocities. The militant’s army of terrorists had grown to over 4,000 strong and they had equipped themselves with sophisticated weapons by raiding small and poorly protected military outposts and arsenals.

In November, the Nepalese government had declared a state of emergency. The rebels stepped up their violence and instead of staying mostly in western sections, planned attacks were aimed at Katmandu, other major cities and tourist areas and base camps near Mt. Everest. By the beginning of the year hundreds of people were being killed in surprise attacks by the Maoists. The guerrillas would declare a “strike” in Katmandu or other cities and completely shut down commerce, transportation, government services and people movement in the city for a day at a time. If shopkeepers left their doors unlocked and continued business, those establishments would be stoned, shot up or burned. If taxis or buses tried to drive the streets the drivers would be beaten and the vehicles burned.

Just a week before we arrived the violence was ratcheted up another notch. The Maoists attacked and took over a city airport. They almost simultaneously then set fire to buildings and fired at police in the town of Mangalsen. Forty-nine police were killed. Twenty-seven more were killed in another airport takeover. Shortly afterward another 48 Royal Nepalese Army officers were killed.

The night we arrived in Katmandu the Maoist rebels burned a large number of government vehicles and some buildings and killed another 12 people in the city.

To add to the civil unrest and instability, Nepal had gone through another shocker in June, 2001. King Binendra, Nepal’s Monarch and 8 other members of the Royal family, including Queen Aiswarya were fatally shot in the Royal Palace in Katmandu. All evidence pointed to Crown Prince Dipendra as the mass killer. He then almost botched his own suicide attempt but died a short time later at the hospital. An official investigation was conducted later which confirmed that the Crown Prince did perform the massacre in a drunken rage of anger. His uncle, Gyanendra Bir Bikram, was the one left upon whom the title of Regent of Nepal was bestowed.

With that opening of confusion and insecurity, the Maoists intensified their onslaughts of violence to try to topple Nepal’s government.

The Zimmermans had chosen a quaint Nepalese Hotel in the Patan area of Katmandu for us to stay. We were perfectly safe there and the cool night and our tired bodies successfully promoted the thought we skip dinner and go straight to bed.

Saturday, March 23

The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming and the leaves were beginning to bud out on the trees. We awoke to springtime in Nepal! Even by then the negative aspects of our India experience were beginning to fade into historical perspective. We had been at the right place at the right time speaking to the right people. God had blessed us and protected us.

We took a little local taxi from our Summit Hotel and met Dr. Mark Zimmerman and Deirdre at the front gates of the Patan Hospital to go for lunch. They took us to the ancient Hindu Temple of Patan which was the center of one of Four Kingdom state cities which sat on the present site of Katmandu. Much of the sprawling temple had been turned into a Hindu museum with a quaint little restaurant attached. 

After lunch Anna Marie and I walked the narrow streets of Katmandu absorbing all the sights, sounds and smells of the city that some claimed to be 10,000 years old.

Dr. Mark Zimmerman had finished his medical education at some prestigious schools in Eastern USA. He had traveled to Africa during his medical school days to do a short stint there. He agreed to go to Nepal for 3-6 months to help out before he started his practice in America. He went to Nepal and stuck. He had been there for 15 years and had become the Medical Director of the Patan Hospital.

When Nepal opened up to the world in the l950’s it was decided that there would not be just an influx of humanitarian and religious groups allowed in the Hindu Kingdom. Instead, it was agreed that the Methodists, Presbyterian, etc. groups would be allowed to jointly open one medical venture in Katmandu. Eventually, that effort became known as the United Mission of Nepal and they were allowed to open a hospital in an old palace where even the patient wards boasted of crystal chandeliers.

The medical work built a strong reputation throughout Nepal and soon outgrew the old royal facilities. What amazed me about Patan Hospital right away was the fact that such an ecumenical diversity could get organized and work together on any project for that long and be of such a success. My attention was captured. I was eager to learn more about the hospital and its mission.

Next Week: Patan Hospital a Good Place to Start

© Dr. James W. Jackson   

Permissions granted by Winston-Crown Publishing House

  

www.jameswjackson.com  

Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com

JOURNAL HIGHLIGHTS: Roads I hHave Traveled... Excerpt # 3 October, 1997

by Dr. James W. Jackson

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist

Mostly, if you want to go someplace in Nepal, you walk. If we had walked to Tumlingtar village from Kathmandu, it would have taken us four days of trekking and three nights of tenting.

Once we landed, we walked from the grass runway to the village restaurant and bar. As we drank Cokes, the village people unloaded our luggage and the medical supplies to be used in the clinic for the next two weeks. They had hired Sherpas, who are seasoned pack men, to carry the luggage and medical goods up the long trail to Khandibari village. The Sherpas had baskets they had woven out of young bamboo shoots. They were oblong at the top opening, measuring about two feet by one foot. They tapered down in a wedge fashion so they rested right below the tailbone of a Sherpa. Two homemade straps went over a Sherpa’s shoulders, and one strap went around his forehead for balance. It is my understanding that the loads they can carry are legendary. That is all they do their entire lifetime—carry heavy loads up and down the terribly steep mountain trails.

I winced as I saw them take my soft-side luggage and jam it down into one of their baskets. In that suitcase is my best black-striped wool suit; my white-and-blue, starched dress shirts; my expensive blue wool blazer with brass buttons; my dress slacks; and everything else I am going to need to meet the heads of state once I arrive in Bucharest, Romania. I winced again as I saw them jam additional items into the Sherpa’s toting basket. Oh well, I thought, we play this game one move at a time. Maybe I’ll start a new Project C.U.R.E. trend and go naked in Romania.

We left the village and made our way to the mountain. The trail led us through the villagers’ fields of maize and millet. It led us within a few feet of the farmhouses and barns. Outside the village we began to gain altitude. Then the rocky road went almost vertical. Steps had been cut into the rocky mountain over the years to aid in the climb.

About one hour into the trek, the wind began to blow. The sky had turned increasingly dark. I was walking just behind Narayan. He pointed to a high mountain ridge in the far distance. “When it gets dark on that point, we are guaranteed to get rain here. It’s just a matter of a little time.”

The wind was now kicking up dust from the trail and bending the bamboo and maize stalks. As we rounded a bend in the trail, we came upon a rural farmhouse. It was two stories in height with a thatched roof and wooden shutters and doors. On the front porch area, a crowd of people had gathered. By now the wind was howling, and pieces of thatch from the barn and a neighbor’s house flew like kites. We hurried onto the porch, and at the center of the crowd a man was lying on a canvas stretcher, covered by a handwoven blanket. He was moaning with pain. His friends were on their way to try to take him to the hospital in Kathmandu—four days away.

Three of the registered nurses were walking close behind us. They moved in and began surveying the situation. At first they were afraid it might be an appendicitis attack. Then the nurses got the moaning man to turn over on his back and point to the area of most pain. The man’s friends told the nurses that the fellow had just vomited several times. Quite quickly the nurses ruled out the appendix theory and eventually settled on an acute urinary tract infection that had moved into his bladder and kidneys. Lucky for the man the nurses just happened to be able to stop the Sherpa who had some pain medicine and some real stout antibiotic pills in his basket.

Everyone was so concerned about the patient that the impending storm had been completely ignored. But the storm had not gone away just because we had ignored it. By that time it was thundering and the lightning was cracking and the wind was howling even louder. The rain clouds had begun to douse us with bucketfuls of water. The water didn’t really come down on us, but rather because of the unchecked wind, the torrents of rain came at us. In true Nepalese hospitality, the farm family on whose porch we had all suddenly congregated, opened the doors to their house and invited the whole mob to come in out of the storm. The rogue storm lasted for another thirty minutes. Then, in a fashion that reminded me of mountain storms in my valley of Colorado, everything stopped, a calm settled in, and the sun came out.

As we opened the doors of the little farmhouse, we discovered that it had not just rained, but the ground in front of the farmhouse and as far up the mountain pass as you could see was covered with a blanket of hailstones. The thrill and excitement of the storm passed quickly when everyone realized that just across the mountain trail, the fields of millet, maize, and rice lay in ruins. Trees in the yard had been blown over, and stands of bamboo were now flat. We extended our sympathy to the farmers, bade farewell to the moaning urinary patient, and headed back up the mountain range toward Narayan’s ancestral village. 

Water was by that time coming down the trail as if it were a riverbed. The red dirt of the mountain had turned into a gooey-slimy-slick mess. The trail was slippery and treacherous, but darkness was coming soon, and we had to make it to Khandibari village. I glanced down at Bob Jackson’s walking boots. They were covered with the red mud, and I had red mud nearly up to the knees of my pants. I was happy that I was not wearing my “city shoes” as Bob had called them, but I felt guilty that his boots were taking such a beating. Then the thought hit me, The Sherpas carrying the luggage didn’t make it to the farmhouse by the time the fury of the storm landed. They were caught out in the mountain downpour. My poor canvas soft-side luggage is by now soaked with rain and hail. Oh! My wool suit and blazer!

Some hours later we made it to the outskirts of Khandibari village. On several occasions the residents of the houses came out to the road and insisted we stop and receive the seasonal blessing. They were all part of Narayan’s family. So we would stand in line as they draped us with mala necklaces of flowers and placed red dried rice on our foreheads. Eventually we made it though the village and up on top of a mountain where it was relatively flat. As we came over the top of the mountain, the arrangement of two rows of green canvas tents burst into sight. There were about twelve tents in all, and at the end of the tent line was a round eating area constructed with a metal roof.

It was almost completely dark, and as the Sherpas began to unload their baskets, we were dished up a hot meal of goat meat, rice, potatoes, and mountain vegetables. The dinner was topped off with good hot tea with milk—I presume goat milk.

It was not a figment of my imagination … I am going to be sleeping on the ground under a green canvas tent. Somehow they had managed to throw a sleeping bag for me into one of the Sherpa’s baskets, but—you guessed it—it was wet. I found my luggage, opened it, and took out my sweater and leather jacket, which had been folded into the inside layer of the packed things. The night was very chilly, and the sweater and leather jacket felt very good. I pulled my belongings into my assigned tent and unrolled my sleeping bag.

What in the wide world am I doing here? I wondered.
I’m not a fan of camping out, and I really do have a nice, comfortable king-size bed back home in Evergreen. If I were there, I would have someone to snuggle to boot! But right now, in the heart of the Himalayan Mountains in Nepal, there is no one to complain to, and survival is the name of the game.

I took Bob’s boots off outside the tent and climbed into the wet sleeping bag with all the rest of my clothes on, including my sweater and my leather jacket. I was exhausted from the four-hour trek, and my stomach was full of hot meal and tea. I created a warm spot and quickly drifted off to sleep.

Next Week: Nepal five years later

© Dr. James W. Jackson   

Permissions granted by Winston-Crown Publishing House

  

www.jameswjackson.com

Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com

JOURNAL HIGHLIGHTS: Roads I Have Traveled... Excerpt # 2 October 1997

by Dr. James W. Jackson

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist

I am delighted to be sharing with you the origins of our friendship with the people of Nepal in these Travel Journal excerpts. Since these 1997 and 2002 excerpts Project C.U.R.E. has delivered nearly $12 million dollars worth of donated medical goods to Nepal. Here is a wonderful miracle that took place regarding the recent devastating earthquake: Just the day before the quake hit Nepal Project C.U.R.E. had a 40' ocean going cargo container jam-packed full of desperately needed medical goods arrive in Kathmandu, Nepal and clear customs. One of the UNICEF disaster tents was dismantled at the epicenter of the quake so that Project C.U.R.E.'s container could be strategically placed and medical personnel started using the supplies and pieces of equipment from the container immediately saving many lives on the spot.

Additionally, hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of supplies were carried into the quake area in "Project C.U.R.E. Kits." Right now another 40' cargo container with nearly $400,000 worth of medical goods is on the water from our Tempe, Arizona facility and will be arriving soon. These early seeds planted nearly 20 years ago are now producing a wonderful and fruitful harvest in Nepal and the other 130 countries around the world.

NEPAL October 1997 (cont) Narayan arranged for me to meet at 7:00 a.m. with J. N. Khanal, the former prime minister of Nepal. His coalition government has just been restructured, which restructured him right out of his job as prime minister. However, Mr. Khanal is still perhaps the most influential politician in Kathmandu. Democracy and the parliamentary system of government are still very new in Nepal, and my guess is that Mr. Khanal will remain a vital part of Nepalese politics for a long time to come.

As soon as Narayan introduced me to the prime minister, he was called out for some emergency situation, which left the prime minister and me alone to discuss many things. He was very intrigued with Project C.U.R.E. and asked if we would be willing to work with him in the future as well. I assured him we would. He asked if we only deal in medical equipment, or if we could partnership in other areas. He told me that the country is very desperate for additional hydroelectric facilities. “We have lots of water in the rivers, but not enough hydro plants to generate electricity for our people.”

We went on to talk about the agricultural industry. He explained that there is a good opportunity for increasing the production of tea and improving on the packaging process and distribution. “We grow excellent tea here in Nepal, but no one can afford to plant the crop and wait for the first five years to harvest it.”

I explained our intentions to come alongside Ethiopia and help them become a net exporter of foodstuffs in the next ten years. The prime minister went on to tell me they also grow good apples and other fruit, but as is the case with nearly all the crops, they have to use water buffalo and oxen to plow the fields.

I asked him about the educational needs of Nepal, and he told me they really need everything. I shared with him how Project C.U.R.E. has been involved in Kenya, Russia, and the Ukraine sending reference books to the schools. I pledged that we will not try to export any of our culture by sending novels, US history books, or social materials, but rather if we send books, they will be limited to encyclopedias, dictionaries, medical books, science and math books, and other reference books. He really appreciated my sensitivity regarding the cultural issues.

I guess I have tried quite hard to respect and value the dignity and background culture of the people I have met in the countries I visit. I’m not sure how to explain it, but I have found inside of me not just a fascination or curiosity with the people and their traditions but feelings of deep love and admiration for them as well. I am a little surprised at myself when I take inventory and find that some of the people I really care about and have considered some of my dearest friends are people I have met outside my traditional sphere of influence. I think of Vilmar Thrombeta and Drs. Paulo and Lorena Velho and their entire family in Brazil. I think of Ambassador Kim Jong Su and many others from North Korea. I think of Don Osman and his family in Nairobi, and many others, and I realize that somewhere along the line God did some radical changing of the motherboard of my computer—at the very citadel of my being.

I am learning quickly about some of the customs of the Nepalese people. When they want to honor someone, they place a necklace of flowers over their heads called a mala. The most common greeting is “Namaste.” It is passed on as the Nepalese people place their palms together with their fingers up to their faces and dip their heads slightly with respect. Only westernized folks reach out to shake hands.

There are no locks on the doors of Nepalese homes outside the busy city, and I was invited to come in for tea continuously. Of course, as is the tradition throughout Asia, you always take off your shoes before entering a home. Chopsticks are not used in Nepal, but more like Mongolia, you lay your left hand beside your leg or on your lap and use your fingers on your right hand to mix and stir together everything on your plate and then serve it into your mouth. The left hand is never used even to present a business card to someone. That’s because the left hand is utilized in the excrement process and is therefore considered defiled.

In Nepal it is rude to put your hand on someone’s head or shoulder, and as is the custom in Eastern Europe and all of Asia, men and women never touch or show affection to each other in public. However, those same cultures approve of members of the same sex walking down the street arm in arm or holding hands. It is strictly taboo to ever point the bottom of one’s foot toward another person. You shouldn’t touch another person or even a cow with your foot. If you want to motion for someone to come to you, you don’t curl your index finger at the person or motion with a circular movement of your hand pointing up. Rather, you motion to the person with your hand extended and your fingers pointing down. Well, so much for cultural hints when you travel to Kathmandu.

Next week: Trekking in Nepal 

© Dr. James W. Jackson
Permissions granted by Winston-Crown Publishing House

www.jameswjackson.com

Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com