My first visit to Nepal was in mid-March. The only things I knew about Nepal at the time was that it was one of the poorest countries in the world, it had splendid mountains and that it was politically unstable. I stayed here for only four weeks, but it was difficult not to return.

In May I found myself back again at Tribhuban International Airport, and walked into town. This time I was determined not to live the artificial life of Kathmandu or the semi-artificial one of a trekker along an established route. I initiated my rite of passage into Nepalidom and got myself a guide, Rajendra Subedi to take me on a trip into Dhading.

Everyone had told me I was on a headon collision with the dreaded Maoists. My fears were realised in Satdobate. A lot of red flags prominently displayed this village's political preference. Two men, no older than 20, approached Rajendra and my apprehension grew as his face stiffened. All the boys wanted to discuss was politics. They grilled me on my views on US foreign policy, my country's stand, what I thought about Maoism and my take on democracy. Sitting there, in that tea shop with my guide as my translator, I was stuck by the irony of the situation as I recalled the numerous times during my trip that I had sat in similar tea shops hiding from the Maoists to sip a forbidden glass of beer.

All along the trails, the children come out to point, giggle and sometimes scream "Hello!" My respect for them increases as I watch them skipping past me in their slippers on the long road to school while me in my fancy hiking shoes, panting and sweating can barely keep up. Their schools are bare, few teachers and the homework can only be done in the dim light of lamps after work on the fields is over. Some small children work as porters carrying huge burdens to augment the family income. Still, they wake up every morning, don their blue uniforms and flock to school.

It is hard not to be captivated by the greenery, the landscape, the mystical air and the enormous natural space. But indoors, the space is claustrophobic and no one has any privacy. This has its own advantages: living together and sharing lives creates something beautiful in itself. These villages are real communities everyone tries to help everyone else. Everything is shared from food, the only tv and the responsibility to babysit children while parents work.

In the village, the lack of privacy affects women the most. They have to wake up at four in the morning to have a few moments to themselves, and they carry the burden of household chores, taking care of the children and joining the men to work the fields.

It has been said before, but foreigners don't realise it until they see it themselves: the immense pride the Nepalis have. Not only are they proud of their independence and of their country, but they display dignity and a sense of self-worth. All this despite all the hardships that have piled up because of the insurgency. The country may be on the brink of civil war, but I can see Nepalis will never give up their self-esteem. I feel ashamed to be so individualistic, and then look at my new-found friends who are so proud of who they are. This is something no one can take away from Nepal.

Marike Hippe works for the department of social welfare in Holland, but is currently enjoying a sabbatical in Nepal, volunteering for FOHRID and an orphanage. MRmountain1@hotmail.com