I wrote this compilation during the final week of the Nepali year of 2072. 2073 began on April 13. Enjoy.
April 5 2016/Chait 23 2072
My mom came into my room to ask me something, then paused, looked at my trash bin and started fishing through it. She pulled out an empty plastic jar of vitamins, washed it and put it in the kitchen.
April 6 2016/Chait 24 2072
My mom called my coffee “stinky tea” today.
I made a fly trap. It caught about 10 flies, but only 3 died. The other’s managed to escape. My sister looked at the reused jar of peanut butter filled with sugar water and told me that there were dead flies in it. “Ya” I said, “that’s the idea”. She laughed.
Our cat is my new best friend after I started bringing home milk. If she’s hungry she meows endlessley until I produce a small amount for her. I told her to go catch a rat instead, but it didn’t work. She’s pregnant so I am even more generous than normal.
April 7, 2016/Chait 5 2072
I woke up today and went to check on the spring where our water comes from. We haven’t had piped water for about a week now and I wanted to see if the passage to our pipe had been blocked. It had. I moved the rocks and dirt in front of the other pipe and a girl appeared. I explained that it is selfish and greedy to block the path to our pipe so that their pipe can get more. I said that we needed to open it so that both places could get water. She seemed to understand. I explained it to her dad later too.
One of our FCHVs (Female Community Health Volunteers) is around 40 years old and just had a baby. She was too shy to come to the health post herself to have the baby checked. The baby was dirty and hungry. The FCHV mom was having problems lactating.
I went to another village to check on a mom who had a malnurished baby. She wasn’t there. Here kids were though- hanging from hammocks in the one room hut. One of the kids is maybe 2, the other close to a year now. I wanted to plant some carrots and green veggies with her, but instead waited for an hour. The young baby woke up and started crying intermitently. Wondering if anyone was really listening to it. It reminded me those babies in orphanages that are kept in cribs all day. Not only were they abandoned, but they were hungry and hanging from heigths that could kill them. I asked a neighbor where she went and they said she was washing clothes. I hoped it was worth it. They didn’t seem concerned.
April 8, 2016/Chait 6 2072
Roosters crow at dawn
Coyotes howl at sun set
I hear the earth turn
Wheat cut, harvest, sell
A week worked, a pile of wheat
How much is it worth?
Here is your garden
You hope the seed will sprout, grow
Where does your trust lie?
I made my own food.
You don’t need to cook me bread
Oh, you wanted some?
April 9, 2016/Chait 27 2072
Bananas on the run
This morning I dragged myself out of bed for a run and noticed halfway through that a tea shop I pass by had a bunch of bananas hanging out in front of their shop. Now, there are two varieties of bananas you can find here in Nepal. The variety from India which is similar in taste and shape to the ones found in the states, and the local variety which is far superior in taste and much thicker and shorter in shape. The local variety, when ripe, is so sweet and juicy it’s orgasmic. I was happy to see that the ones hanging at this shop were plump, large local bananas. On my way back, I decided to stop at the shop to get a closer look. There is a general shortage of fresh fruits and vegetable in village, so it’s very exciting to see shops selling them.
“Where are these from?” I asked
“Sun Khola”. He said.
Sun Khola is the name of the river flowing below the shop. There are banana trees growing around and near the river. The shop owner pulled down the best looking bunch of the group.
“I don’t have any money on me right now.” I said. “Can I pay you tomorrow, or the next day?”
“Sure. Take them.” He said
This is a common thing to do here and totally acceptable to have many IOUs going for an indefinite period of time. The lady I get milk from never asks for money, I just give it when I have it and try to remember how many times I’ve filled my thermous.
As I was holding the bananas, the little boy standing nearby proudly stated that they were 40 rupees per dozen. That’s the equivalent of 40 cents. I was surprised because I’m used to paying 5 rupees per banana for the Indian variety. The local vaiety is cheeper AND tastier! I could feel the shop owner cringing a little that the boy had blurted out the cost to me. I usually pay the local price for things, but sometimes people charge me more because I’m a foreigner. I think the shop owner would have asked for at least 50 rupees if the boy hadn’t said something.
The thing was, the bunch I wanted only had 10 bananas and I didn’t want to carry one bunch and two bananas separately. I was still planning to run the last mile and a half home after all.
“I’ll take these now, then when I come back to give you the money I will take two more, OK?” I asked.
“Ya, Ok.”
I was off. Me and my 10 bananas. I didn’t bother to put the bananas in a bag, I decided to just hold them from the top. Then people could see I was obviously carrying bananas, which saved them asking “What’s in the bag?”
As I passed by a friend’s house the old lady standing out front noticed I was running with a bunch of bananas and pointed it out to her friend. I raised the bananas and smiled. I could hear them thinking “Oh, that silly American, what will she do next?” I suppose not much I can do now would surprise them at this point. Maybe they think all Americans run holding bananas for snacks.
As I was climbing the hill near my house I heard a rustling in the trees. Looking up, I noticed the local clan of rhesus monkeys jumping around the trees. Sometimes I encounter them, but I had a strange feeling that they were watching my bananas. Not wanting to find out what hungry monkeys will do to steal bananas, I picked up the pase.
Home at last, I admit I was happy that no one was home at the time. I would have felt obligated to share my batch of bananas if they were. Sharing food is a Nepali practice I never got very good at. It’s 7:45pm now and I have eaten 3 of them. Perhaps I will share the others. Hmmm…what would the monkeys do?
I was happy to have the bananas while eating my breakfast not only because I happened to have bread and honey to go with them, but because while I as I was eating my concoction of a bowl of boiled egg, yesterdays cooked cabbage and potatoes, and yogurt I happened to notice something I hoped wasn’t what I thought it was. Looking closer, the eyeballs staring back at me verified what my stomach hoped it wasn’t…a fly. Yes, a housefly in my food. I wondered how many times I had been served and eaten bugs here and not known about it. Not wanting to throw out the forkful of food I had already raised, I ate that bite and decided to trash the rest. I’m sure that last bite only had a tiny bit of fly juice, if any.
In the afternoon I didn’t eat lunch because my stomach hurt and I was feeling nauseous. My family said that my stomach hurt because I cooked my own food yesterday. I told them it was because of the fly I found in my breakfast. I’m not going to tell them the real reason which is that I’m starting my period and the extra hot weather today made me dizzy and sick. I don’t think I’ll tell them at all this month. The day after tomorrow I’ll be leaving home for a few days and don’t feel like playing the menstruation game this month. If they ask, I can just tell them it came while I was away. The river of sin flowing out of my vagina will just have to go un announced for now. And that’s the way it goes. Viva la revolution!
April 10, 2016/Chait 28, 2072
How to dig a hole
I have somehow volunteered to lead the building of two water collection ponds at a local school. The project needs to be done as the waste water is running under a concrete wall that will eventually collapse. The water will also be used to water the garden. I have no experience with such a project, but I’ve learned that doesn’t mean I can’t do it! It’s all about finding the right people to help, doing research, and breaking the process up into small steps.
“I can get you money in 4 days.” The principal told me.
“Ok, well should I wait 4 days before buying supplies then?” I asked
“Well, you can buy the supplies yourself now, then in 10 or 12 days I can get you the money.”
“Hmmmm.” The fact that he changed the time from 4 to 10 days didn’t help my confidence with getting paid back for buying supplies.
“I am a little nervous about spending money because maybe you won’t be able to pay me back. How much money is available in the budget for this project?” I asked.
“How much do you need?”
“$200?” I said
“200?! Well, it’s for building two water collection ponds. If that’s what you need.”
“Ok then. I will only buy the supplies we need for digging the hole now, then when the money comes I can buy the rest of the supplies.” I said.
He agreed and I gave him a tour of the garden I made at our house. I hope I can end up just as proud of the ponds as I am of the garden at my house. It’s amazing how many things I do here that start with diggging holes.
Thoughts of home
For some reason, in the last week, I feel like when I allow my mind to be quiet and clear, I can picture home clearly. It’s as if I can imagine myself at home when I get back and what I would be doing. Going to a movie, going to work, cooking food. Would I still be able to just be lazy whenever I want? If it’s hot in the middle of the day, can I lie in bed for 3 hours?
The clarity of the image of me being home brings me happiness, but imagining the day I leave here brings me sadness. I only have 6 months left and I want to make sure I do all the things I wanted to do. No regrets. Tik tock.
April 11, 2016/Chait 29 2072
I went into the ATM today and had a flashback (flashforward?) of being in America.
April 12, 2016/Chait 30 2072 (NEPALI NEW YEARS EVE)
Approaching the Edge of the Begining
I spent the last day of 2072 in the Terai region of Nepal which is the southern most, hot, flat region of the country that boarders India. On my request for an adventure, two girls ages 11 and 14 led me on a walk that ended at a river. It was 4:30pm in the afternoon and the intense 100 degree heat of the day was starting to subside making it possible for an outing.
“Can you cross the river, sister?” They asked me.
I looked at the river in the distance. While during monsoon season it gets very wide, it was currently narrow enough to cross.
“I can swim across rivers, yes.” For some reason my swimming ability is a big source of pride for me. But while I was boasting about my aquatic abilities I realized that they meant walking across, not swimming across the river.
As we approached the water, the sight of gently sloping sand dunes and the feel of the gentle breeze made me nostalgic for home. The girls ran to the water and I sat in the sand, removing my shoes and letting the sand play with the spaces between my toes. I closed my eyes and was transported to the coast of Southern California. The sound of seagulls was replaced with the sound of crows, and the scattered bones in the distance were of desceased water buffalo and not seals, but the fusion fo the two worlds made me feel like I was in some sort of intermediate dimension between home, and the home of my heart.
The girls were by the water scooping up sand and examining the tiny bits of life inhabiting the space.
“I caught a fish! I caught a fish!” They shouted, and ran to me to show me the tiny fish swimming around in their hands no bigger than a grain of rice.
“That’s really neat” I said. I remembered how I used to collect sea shells when I was their age and run to show my grandmother in the same way.
“Do they have fish were you live?” They asked.
“Yes, they do. My home is actually a lot like this. I live by the ocean and people sometimes fish in the ocean.”
“Wow.” They said. Then ran back to collect more handfuls of treasure. Listening to them play was entertaining. One girl would find a new piece of treasure and do something silly with it and the other would tell her
“You’re just like a monkey, no? Just like a monkey!”
Later, they showed me how to make “sand bowls” by pouring water over the sand and gently digging out the wet sand. I showed them how to make drip castles.
As the sun started dipping below the horizon, a gentle orange, pink glow of light was cast along the river and fields of grass. The farmers began hearding their water buffalo, cows and goats back home and the women in the fields began collecting the fodder they had been cutting for their animals. We gathered up our sandals and started heading home.
There are times in Nepal when I imagine that I could live here forever and be perfectly happy. I have learned that living in harmony with the earth and physically feeling a connection to the soil, plants, animals and souls of the people is more fulfilling than any paycheck or material posession. I am sometimes hesitant to open up to others as it can be exhausting, but when I do I find new level of appreciation for the kindess, customs and culture of the Nepali people. Here I sometimes feel a stronger sense of belonging than I did among the crowds and streets of LA. In LA no one looks at each other in public. Here, the simple greeting of “Namaste” to a stranger is meant to acknowledge and honor the soul, and spirit of the other person while in turn offering your own. Saying it is both humbling and nurishing. It is said when you meet someone, as well as when you say goodbye.
On this last day of 2072, I say “Namaste” to the people and events of this year. Through earthquakes, festivals, weddings and handfulls of soil we have grown and changed together. You have fed my soul and I have offered mine.
And finally, to 2073, my family and friends, I offer the words of an Old Irish Blessing…
May there always be work for your hands to do.
May your purse always hold a coin or two.
May the sun always shine on your windowpane.
May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain.
May the hand of a friend always be near you.
May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.
“Namaste”
