These photographs of Laljahri were the first anyone had ever taken of her and she wasn't sure how to act in front of the camera except feel self conscious.

Another issue had come up regarding Laljahri. During the week of the conference I had spent time with Laljahri, Renu, Tara and Besun and had gotten to know them a little. We had become friends. In Nepal that is expressed as “Didi” (dee-dee) meaning friend, brother, sister. I had become their “Didi”, or brother in this case, and I reciprocated and called them Didis as well. A conversation we all had fairly often concerned Laljahri’s miscarriages and the issue she faced at home with her husband threatening to throw her out of the home. I was curious and concerned what was causing her miscarriages; if it might be toxins, or parasites, or even cancer.

Renu and I had a conversation with Laljahri focusing on two questions. The first was what would happen to her if she was thrown out of her home, where would she go, what resources did she have? The second was how could she find out what was wrong with her reproductive system that was causing the miscarriages and stillbirths. Renu said if she was thrown out of her house she would be able to live at the Women’s Foundation, at least for awhile. Renu did some research and found an OBS/GYN in Naryanghar, a young Chinese woman doctor, who said she would be glad to examine Laljahri and try to find out what was wrong. The problem for Renu and Laljahri was that it would cost money that neither of them had, but I did. The cost of a comprehensive gynecological exam was roughly $10 US. I said I would be glad to give Laljahri the money if it was discussed with people in her village and the members of the conference first, just so they knew where the money was coming from and why Laljahri, Renu and myself, felt it was important.

So we had several discussions. The people in Laljahri’s village at first had no objections but later some said they though there were more important needs in the community that the money could be used for but no one mentioned anything specifically. Some women in the village had been having miscarriages and stillbirths so they hoped that they’d benefit from anything Laljahri found out.

A few of the men in the conference, however, were incensed by my offer to pay for the exam. They felt I was meddling and being arrogant like the “Ugly American” in the novel by that name published in 1958. One man said , “You’re just doing this so you can feel important!” Another man said “there are thousands of women in Nepal with health problems. Are you going to fix them all?” This was consistent with reprimands I received from one or two of the men earlier when I wanted to talk to women, or take their pictures, or plant rice with them. I would hear them say (punitively), “You can’t do that.” I would ask the women and they would say they'd be happy to talk to me, happy to have me take their picture, or plant rice with them, happy to interact with them, that it wasn't inappropriate. Laljahri was overjoyed when I said I would help her.

I told the men who disapproved that I felt our conference was about change and about sustainability that one of the core issues in sustainability children’s health and well being which, by extension, includes the mother’s health and well being. Laljahri had become our friend and colleague. She had become like a sister, I told them, and my main reason for offering to help her was I felt it was important for all of us at the conference to know why Laljahri (and perhaps other Nepali women) was having so many miscarriages and stillbirths particularly when she so desperately wanted to have her own children. I did not bring up the money itself. I never said “oh, it’s only ten dollars.” I did remind them that Laljahri was a brilliant, courageous woman, who was willing to take enormous risks to work towards sustainable change in Nepal and that she, in turn, needed to be sustained by the rest of us, to be nurtured, and supported in every way possible. I was somewhat convincing but it is important to note that not all the men objected. It was only a minority who were rigidly opposed.

Renu, Laljahri and I took the bus back to Naryanghar from Laljahri’s village and Renu took Laljarhi to the doctor’s office for the first of four visits needed to complete all the tests she would have as part of the exam. I went back to the CDO and began packing things so I could continue my work in other parts of the country. I saw Laljahri that afternoon and said goodbye to her. We knew it would be the last time we would ever see each other. We both cried. I wanted to hug her, or shake her hand, but, that wasn't permitted under Hindi law. So that afternoon we stood and gazed at each other as we frequently did and then gave a final wave.