The End of the Cocoon

 

 

“What the caterpillar calls the end, the master calls a butterfly.” Richard Bach

I had my brides dress on that my mother and I made.   My hair was up and surrounded with roses.  I started rising up in the air, seeing myself from far far away.  I became an objective witness to my own case for just one moment in time.  I saw me waiting and thinking of a lie.  I knew exactly what was going on.  I knew that my husband to be, was seeing another woman.  But this me was brave enough to know it, where that me, who tried to fit in this world that stands together by a big fat lie, was not honest enough to admit it.  I, that I that was standing in a handmade lace wedding dress, with fresh cut roses on my head, with as little make up as possible, walking out of the house I had been living with my husband to be for the last 7 years was too proud and too stubborn to admit that someone else was preferred. 

I didn’t know exactly that day, but there was a feeling beside me all the time, that something was wrong. Ignoring that feeling was the mistake. The whole story that drove me to Nepal is actually this short. There is not much more to tell.  It is not worth telling. It is not even a story it is more of a nightmare.

One day I was sitting on the couch at home, and all of a sudden I knew what I had to do.  I had to go find something or I had to stop looking for something.  I had heard somewhere that once you stop looking for something that is lost, it will not be lost anymore.  So if I could only stop looking for my peace, it wouldn’t be lost anymore.

So I packed my backpack.

I said my goodbyes.

All I knew was I was going to the east, to find the light, my own light.

Every step of the way I realized a little more that my light was strong enough to light the whole world!

But instead of shining I closed the doors on it, so darkness consumed my light.

Darkness can only exist in the absence of light.

All you need is to leave the curtains open.

 

Light finds its way…

Mine found its way to Kathmandu, the roof of the world…

Where I spread my wings, starting my new life for the first time….

Things I did for the first time in my life.

 

One night, brushing my teeth in front of the well outside, staring at the huge stars that were almost falling down on me, my thoughts were as far away from there as the stars were.  It just hit me, “I will not let anybody weigh me down. I will never again let anybody make me feel any less than I am.  This is me I thought.  I love myself.  And I do not give a damn whether anybody loves me or not…

 

I went to my room later.  I put my music on. Thinking of how great it is to brush your teeth outdoors. Go to the balcony and looking in the sky dream of yourself being in front of your tent in the woods, or on the deck of a boat or on a beach….

I realized that this was the first time I looked at the stars when I was brushing my teeth.  Then I thought what else I did for the first time here. And I wrote them all down.

 

Falling asleep with all the creatures in the room.

Sleeping on a wooden bed with a straw mattress on it.

Eating buffalo and goat meat.

Walking as slowly as I would under the sun, with my flip flops and a t-shirt under the heavy Manson.

Taking a bath outdoors and under the rain.

Eating fresh mango, litchi, papaya…

Fighting a mouse, a goat and a buffalo, making peace with a tarantula.

Seeing a huge cannabis sativa plant, alive.

Just sitting on the side of the road without doing anything and staring at the fields for hours.

Waking up at 06:00 for more than 2 days in a row.

Falling asleep before 21:00 for more than 2 days in a row.

Smoking Surya cigarettes.

Drinking Raksi

Use an outdoor toilet at night.

Teaching math.

 

Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs

A friend of mine, told me about this Maslow’s hierarchy of needs when I was asking him a very stupid question, why do women buy jewelries?  He told me about the hierarchy of needs.  This theory might be old by now but there is a truth in it.  I would definitely not say this if I hadn’t proven it by myself in little room with a tin roof, covered with a mosquito net, attacked by a mouse and a goat and a cockroach constantly and still combing my hair….

So the theory is that first come the physiological needs for us.  Breathing, food, water, sleep etc.

I could breathe.

I had some food that I might not be crazy about, but it fed me.  Water was ok, sleeping was a struggle for the first few days but the first step was ok.

When I arrived here in this little house in the middle of endless fields, my initial concern was to be insect-free.  Since I had been living in flats and not used to have all this nature around me, all those bugs, geckoes, wasps, leeches, cockroaches, crickets bothered me to death.  All I wanted is to sleep in the safety of my net, waking up every morning with all those creatures on and outside of the net… I had this fight with the little mouse that lived on the roof and came to my room every day when I was not there…  The huge spider that I ended up calling charlotte and shared the room with, that first scared me to death…  I did not eat much for the first week, just a small plate in the morning and a little in the evening.  I didn’t really care for much either. I couldn’t read much, or enjoy the music I had with me, didn’t take off the bandana on my head.   But slowly I got used to all the creatures moving around in the room, the mouse was coming and going, the geckoes were catching the mosquitoes, charlotte was killing the poisonous spiders,  leeches you could take of your skin with some salt, wasps were not a big threat unless you irritate them… So finally I was sure I wouldn’t die.

So I was safe.  I contacted my family telling them I was ok and knowing they also were. Since I started getting used to the environment my morality was higher.  Health was ok too.

Moving 1 step higher, talking to Shreeram and his wife. Having discussions and classes with the children, was the social needs being met.  So that was ok.

From this point I don’t really care for the Maslow pyramid.   After the social needs, I imagine there should be a totally unnecessary act.  Because once you are safe, fed, content you shouldn’t need anything anymore.  But human kind is not like that.  The moment we are safe we start looking at the neighbor’s house.  Is theirs prettier than ours?

I was safe, fed, clean, and social, I even found books in the library and started reading them, next step was to comb my hair and look at the mirror.  Maybe even get the tweezers. 

And when I finally found myself sitting on the couch after a small manicure & pedicure I gave myself, with my chai and some cookies I bought from the store in the village, reading cosmopolitan, solving the test about how hot is your partner, I realized I was ok…

I realized I was only ok once I was enjoying something I didn’t need….

Come Rain

 

 

 

The Manson is about to start.  Any moment of the day it starts pouring cats and dogs.  There is no way to foresee it.  You can’t look at the stars at night say tomorrow will be a clear day.  7 minutes after you have hand washed your clothes and hang them it could start raining like crazy.  Actually I have noticed that the rain waits for someone to hang some clothes.  The moment you say it is so hot I will just wash a couple a t-shirts to cool it cools down immediately.  First days I would run to save the clothes from the rain but now all I do is wait for the sun to come up and the clothes dry eventually.  Because the moment you think the rain is over and start hanging them again, it starts raining again. Well to be perfectly honest, nothing ever dries any ways, it is so humid. 

 

 

The funny thing is; how you try to go on with your daily life under the Manson.  You need an umbrella to go to the toilet or the kitchen.  The small fight you give washing your hands under an umbrella trying to fall down on you is an effort.  Umbrella is the most useful tool here.  It protects you from the rain and the sun.  And since most of the year is whether sunny or rainy you can imagine how much you would appreciate the umbrella.  They say the umbrella was actually invented to protect from the sun, the first time someone ever used the umbrella for the rain they laughed at her. Only a woman could do thatJ  Oh I know people would laugh at me in my hometown if I walked with an umbrella under the sun, but 40-45 degrees is not funny actually.  So I would laugh back at them under the comfort of my own shadowy space.

 

 

As soon as the rain starts, the corn left to dry in yard are being picked up really fast by all the family.  The kitchen is being closed and sealed.  Then everybody moves inside the house and waits.  Usually with the rain power goes out.  And in a moment there is nothing but a heavy rain screaming and beating down the house.  It might sound as an aggressive sound but no, it is the most soothing sound I have ever heard live.  The beauty of not being able to do anything surrounds you in comfort.  You must sit and wait.  Everyone lets themselves go in the rain, the nature’s great power and the overwhelming peace that comes with surrender.   The rush of the first moments of the rain fades away and a silent peaceful air unfolds.

 

 

The night in Manson is also a little peculiar.  It is cooler than summer but the rain beating down the aluminum roof makes you somehow conscious of what’s going on.   But instead of 45 degrees and humid silent I have learned to appreciate the beauty of the grumble.  The rain turns into a lullaby soon…

 

The moment you give in to the power of the nature, the senseless instability, the arrogance that ignores your existence in way you fall asleep.  There is a greater force out there.   Greater than you, so great you can’t resist, cope, make sense of or restrain.  So you give in.  So I give in, for the first time in my life….

 

Dinner & Dance

 

 

 

We always look for something.  But what we find is never enough.  We keep searching.  The purpose is not the thing to be found, but the search itself.  We search not to be lost.  We search to be found.  We search not to be found.

 

We look for small things, things that are easily found.  Friendship, passion, home, money… But these things just divert us from the real purpose.  In truth we look for things that are not to be found.  Peace, endless love, a soulmate, purpose of life, the big savior… We look for things that we are certain we can’t find so the search never ends.  And we keep searching…

 

Silently looking at the mountain tops buried in the darkness that wrap the rice fields that surround my being, a frog jumps over my foot. I wish I was looking for that frog.  It would have been so easy.  But I never looked for anything that could be found either.  And I never wanted to find it.  I am glad I haven’t yet, keep the search…

 

 

Friday night, Julie, Daddo and Bhim came for dinner.  They brought 2 bottles of homemade raksi, buffalo killer.  We ate chicken for a change. Chicken or goat meat is only eaten once a week or if there are guests.  They stir-fry  the meat with masala and it tastes incredibly good.  The masala is also handmade;  cumin,  coriander, fennel seeds, white pepper, cinnamon, cardamom and red hot chili peppers are crashed with a stone on a stone to very small bits. It is hot but very tasty.

The power was gone, which happens very often in the evenings, so we ate on the mat on floor. Candles were lit.  The kids cleaned up after their dinner and got shawls from inside and started dancing in the patio.  We sang and they danced.   We were zipping our warm raksis on the side. Sarita hates cigarettes but guests are allowed to to what they please.  We are from another culture so for Nepali it doesn’t matter what we do. They accept it.  This is a beautiful way to look at the world.  I wish everybody would be concerned about their own sins instead of budding into others.

 

Julie and Dadoo came from France.  Julie came 3 years ago for 2 months and ended up staying 4.  She fell in love with this village and came back soon with her husband.  She founded a association in France and started working with FaceNepal.  They built the class that we teach in the village.  Now she is here for a new project.  They opened a tailoring workshop for the women of  Tharu village.  30 women are in training there.  With donations they bought 8 sewing machines, rented a studio, and brought a teacher. The women will learn for 6 months, they have 3 groups every day.  Her friend Daddo came with her to help and I know that Julie is dying to move to Nepal. She will as soon as she has everything sorted out back in France.

The power came back on.  The kids brought the radio from inside.  Playing music and dancing they were going crazy.  After a while grown up joined the dance with the quick influence of the raksi. They wanted me to dance as well, but I was way too shy back then, I told them I have to watch first.

 

 

Sitting on the mat with the raksi in one hadn and a cigarette in the other, all of a sudden everything slowed down.  I could see children, men and women dancing in slow motion at first.  Then everything stopped.  The dance was hanging in the air.   Motion stood still.  The music changed when it reached my ears and my mind.  Fireflies stopped flying, crickets stopped singing.  Wind stopped blowing.  I saw myself from up high.  I went up in the sky turning around myself.  I could see my face covered with sadness.  But right in the middle of that deep sadness I was something shining.  It was something I didn’t exist in me anymore. Something I was certain I lost and never even bothered to look for anymore.  Here, in a country called Nepal, in a village called Patalahara, among people unaware of a lot that we call a must , with their small houses, with their electrical power off and on, with their wells depending on the rain that falls,  metal plates, dal, bhat and tharkaries, mats, 2 set of clothes,  five stones, bottle cap toys, cob walls, small TVs, wooden beds,  firewood stoves,   goats and their forever smiling beautiful faces and their belief of the next day will be better than today that warms my heart, I found something I was missing.

Hope....

 

The Mango Tree

 

06:00 in the morning.  This time I woke up without anybody banging on my door.  But even before I could open the door I hear Rekha Didi yelling “Manju!” “Hajur” I said.  She said “Chiya”.  Tea is ready.  So I take my tea, light my cigarette, sit on the spare bed and look out the window at the cannabis sativa tree.  They are grown all over.  No one cares for them.  A plant that caused wars, mob fights, deaths is just peacefully growing in a back yard of a house here.  Surrounded with corn, basilica, not alone at all…

 

They do smoke weed here, it is not legal either, but that is not the big problem in this country.  2 weeks before I arrived here they had their first democratic election and for the first time in Nepali history a government elected by vote was in power.  Before that, Nepal was a ruled by oligarchy for hundreds of years.  Until one day the son of the king, according to conspiracy theories someone wearing a mask, killed all the family at a dinner and committed suicide.

 

Nepal was 3 separate kingdoms until the Shah family unified them in 18^th century all under Shah Monarchy.  The Ranas have served as prime minister to King since then.  The heir to the crown would marry the daughter of Rana and this has been a tradition since then.   

In 1950 The Rana was so powerful the current King Tribhuvan took all of his family including the rightful heir Biendra and he left Nepal to escape the oprresion of the Ranas.  He left his youngest boy, 2 year old Gynendra behind so it would seem like they would come back.  Rana’s announced the little boy King, who was destined to be king twice according to a respectful fortuneteller before.  But Ranas gave up on this idea in a short while. It was probably to handle an adult then a 2 year old!   They asked the King back and accepted all conditions lifting the pressure and ending the Rana’s oppression forever. 

 

When King Tribhuvan passed away, his 27 year old son Birendra took his place.   His oldest son, and heir to the crown Dypendra, who went to school in England and came back to Nepal, fall in love with the beautiful daughter of the Rana.  But inspite of the traditional bound between the Rana daughter and the King’s son, the family did not want them to get married because the father was a powerfull politician in India.  For the sake of Nepal’s future since India had a lot of plans about this small country they decided to obstruct this marriage.

 

Dypendra lost in the labyrinths of power, driven by love and intoxicated by alcohol, with the help of relatives and games all around him, was certain it was his time to be King.

Meanwhile Nepal was already on the edge.  The King’s army was killing anybody they could blame to be Maoists or helping them.  Maoists were acting out and killing landowners in the name of the people’s rights and had started the guerilla fight.  The people are already convinced that their King has no interest in them, so the Maoists slowly grow stronger.  What the Maoists assure everything that a government is supposed provide to the people; work, health and education.  So the guerillas up in the mountains and the King’s soldier in the valley, there comes the end of Kingdom.   

 

One family dinner on June 2001 Dypendra gives up on hope and shots 14 members of his family including his father, mother and sister, turns the gun to himself and pulls the trigger for the last time.   He lived in a coma for one day and the Rana’s announce Gynendra as King for the second time.  But the people do not believe that Dypendra could have done this.  Acording to Nepali  CSI and conspiracy theoires this was a game well staged by the brother Gynendra who wanted power, who was not at the dinner by accident.   They say there was a mask made in Taiwan which was a perfect match to Dypendra’s face.  The gun was found further away from his hand. The entry wound of the bullet is not like a self-shooting wound.  He was buried honorably.

The people not believing their beloved prince could have committed this massacre started a rebellion and everybody stayed on the streets for days.  Shreeram told me how they would go fight on the streets, get beaten up, come back home, get patched up and go back out. King Gynendra was about to give up but his wife left the palace and told him she wouldn’t come back unless he stayed King. For the sake of his family peace he decided to go on as a monarchy.  Years went by with Maoists vs. King’s army and of course the people where the ones to get hurt.

But people did not rest.  They decided it was time for change.  King’s army boosted up the tyranny on the people.  Maoists using this opportunity to create an even more complicated situation, powered up the guerrilla war.  King Gynendra gave up and in May 2008 Nepal voted a democratic government for the first time in their history. 

With not much of knowledge of democracy and little choices the Maoist party was elected.

The royal family was sent to a slightly smaller palace with a big pension.

Nepal was announced Nepali Republic when I was there.

Now it is time to go forwards for Nepal. They have discovered the people’s power now. Since I came here there have been 2 strikes and a student’s protest.  

With the book “Love and Death in Kathmandu” in my hand, I sit still for a while, shivering from the cruelty and reality of the past, and the uncertainty of the future.  I am reminded of my own country and the games played on the people for the sake of power.

Then I go out and walk to the huge Mango tree near the house.  Babu told me this was their mango tree but it was so high they could not collect the Mango’s and the crows ate them all.

I felt a deep love to the Nepali people who had mango trees but had to pay for Mango because of the crows…

  

  

Circle of Life

After breakfast I sat with the kids for a while, watched them get ready and leave.  I read a book, listen to my music, fought with the flies. I tried to organize my stuff.  Put my books on the shelf, put my unnecessary clothes into the backpack and away.   I brought towels, bed sheets and pillow cases, some gift for the children so I had not much in my bag actually. 

 

At 11:00 Asa and Santi came from school, passed my doors yelling “Manju!” and went to do their homework.  The Shreeram and Sarita came and they had lunch.  We worked on Nepali with Shreeram for a while.  He said we could go to the office in Narayangarth so we did.  On his motorcycle on a very bumpy road this was going to be an adventurous trip.   But after 10 minutes I started enjoying the view.  I did have the fear of getting into an accident, worried how the health care was around here but then I said whatever….  

But the moment we entered the city everything turned mad!   Traffic is moving from the other side! Vehicles are coming from every direction.  Buffaloes are sitting in the middle of the streets.  As if they are in a filed, very comfortably, thinking what are all these people doing here?  All drivers are honking the horns like crazy. I had no idea who was honking to whom.  

 

When we finally arrived at the office, I checked my emails, send a couple.  Everybody was worried.  I did not tell them exactly where I was going, I just told them Nepal, a small country in the east between India and China.  One of my friends asked me for the exact address so at least one person would know where I was.  So I send it to her, wondering how long would it take them to come and find me if they did not here from me or how long would they have to not here from me? Well, I sent them anyways. 

 

On the way back I told Shreeram I had to buy a lungi.  Lungi is the piece of fabric that you wear or just wrap around your body when you are taking a bath.  And since the bath is outside I really needed one.  This was the 3^rd day without a bath or shower so I kind of started to smell like the goat at the house.  So we got a lungi from a store for 200 rupis.  Then we went into the store across the street and went into a back room and smoked a cigarette. I asked him can I smoke in the house. He said “Oh sure you can but I can’t. Sarita wouldn’t let me.” So I smiled, thinking how women eat after the men eat and sit on the floor but they can forbid cigarettes.

 

I am not supposed to drink alcohol either, he said, or eat buffalo meat.    It is forbidden in our caste.  Their caste is called the Brahmin.  Only the lower castes can eat buffalo meat, because the buffaloes are used in the fields.  Brahmins can eat chicken, goat and fish. 

This caste system is very interesting actually.  The castes are not determined by peoples economic grades of course. They are not really passed on from family either.  There are 3 castes that are the untouchables.  People that work with iron, carpenters and tailors. People from these castes are not to be touched or touch upper castes.  So a tailor will measure you and make a dress for you but she/he can’t touch you or be touched by you.  10 years ago a simple man came out and told everybody that this was bullshit and they had to change this. This was a bit of a religious revolution actually because a lot of people came to agree with him after listening.  There are still people who believe you have to put water on a gold ring in your ear and splash it to this lower caste person if you ever touch him.  But a lot has changed, revolution is like that.  And obviously all people need is a man who will tell them something true.

The Hindu religion in Nepal is strict in a way but people themselves are open minded.  They listen and have respect in others’ opinions.  So they are open to change.  Although the religion itself is very strict, they find a way to twist rules.  It is the same in all religions. Muslim people don’t drink on a Thursday evening or in Ramadan because they are sacred times, but you can see the same person drunk on a Saturday night!  So Nepali man go to little shops which have secret back rooms closed with curtains and eat buffaloe, with a little raksi.  Raksi is the local drink made from rice.  I call it the buffalo killer. It is very strong!  And since nobody has a refrigerator at home you have to drink it warm, which makes it even stronger in taste,  and harder to drink but easier to get tipsy!  So I mixed a little sprite in it whenever I had the chance to drink some.

 

So went home, a little tipsy from the afternoon raksi, happy to have a lungi, dreaming of a bath… I went into my room, opened my book and I see this enormous spider walking on the bed.   It was more a tarantula than a spider.  So I ran out and told them there was a huge spider in my room.  They came in, checked it out, tried to catch it with their hands it ran away of course, “Oh they said it is gone.”   I thought to myself, ok it is gone.  This was strange to me.  I had to find the creature I saw before I could even sit down. But then it came to me.  If you can’t see it, it is not there.  Why worry until the next encounter. I did accept this though in theory but I couldn’t sit in the room for a while. So I went out to yard and help clean out beans with the ladies.  Later I forgot the spider.  It was out of my sight and out of my mind…

 

We had tea at 16:00, which I was looking forward this time.  I sat in my room drink my tea with a cigarette.  When Shreeram arrived I asked him where I could throw my trash.  He said just collect them we will throw out later.  They don’t have a garbage system.  They just pick the garbage put it in a bag if they find one, and throw it on the side of the road. So if there ever comes a garbage truck, it takes some of it.  Then people go through the garbage and a strong wind blows, your garbage comes right back to your yard.  Your just pick it up and throw it aside. 

They don’t have much of garbage anyways. Organic goes right back into the nature through the goat or fields. Some burn their garbage which releases the gas to the atmosphere and melts into the circle of life….

Everything comes back to you…

Life in the Village

At 6:00 someone is again banging on my door.  “Manju!!” yells Babu this time.  This time I am ready, it is tea time.  I started liking this tea actually.  I open the door, a big smile and “Good Morning!”  I take my tea and sit down on the bed near the window.  Looking outside and slowly drinking my tea.  Outside there are corn fields, corns are small yet.   There is a huge plant right in front of my window, I have seen this somewhere, but I will remember.  The moment you don’t look at your tea flies gather around it.  At night I am not as bothered by the bugs because I am safe in my mosquito net but during the day flies, spiders, geckos and all kinds of creatures are all around.

 

 

 

After I finish my tea I go for a walk.  I take my cigarettes too.  I am still not sure how people react to the smoking.  I couldn’t find time to ask Shreeram and I do not want to offend anybody.   There is the village center 10 minutes away by foot.  I will walk there and buy some water.  I have been warned by foreigners not to the drink the water from the well.  So I will have to carry my water every day from the village.  They also say I shouldn’t be even eating anything uncooked which is washed by the water from the well but hey I can’t be that careful, I will live here for 2 months.  I can say I can’t eat the mango or the coconut because it is washed with that water.  But for now I will buy my water and later try the water from the well.

I find Rekha Didi and say “Pani” and wave. She say “Pani pagaudi.” This means going to buy water.  I smile and go.  I light a cigarette walking. People riding bikes pass me.  The most common transportation is bicycles.  The more lazy people who have a little bit more money use motorcycles.   You hardly ever see a car. And they are just passing through.

 

I walk surrounded by rice fields.  Endless… Among the fields there are houses.  They are all small cob houses with sedge roofs.  The Himalayas are spotted from far away,  misty mountain tops,  calm and safe.  They give me a feeling of sureness.  I pass small bridges.  During and after the Manson water will be under these bridges but right now the streams are dry.  The trees are all big, they look up to the mountains.  The streets are untouched by dozers or pavement.  They only know human, goats, buffaloes,  cows and bicycles.  While I am walking people come running out of their houses and yell at me “Hello!”. Children, who learn English at their schools ask me my name, where I came from and where I am going.  I say Manju, Turkey, pani pagaudi. It is so easy to explain yourself here.  No one cares what university you graduated, what region you live, who is your hairdresser, what car you drive.  They don’t care what you do.  All they need is your name, so they can call you by it tomorrow when they see you again.

When I arrive at the villiage, I enter the small grocery store. All they sell is vegetables, water, pencils, notebooks and cigarettes.  An old man is sitting infront of the store. I bow and say” Namaste” he smiles and gets up.  He goes in the store, I say “pani?” “Dui.” He takes 2 dusty botttles of water out of the fridge, which only exist in stores here, cleans them with a newspaper and hands them to me.  I give him 50 rupis and he finds the key to the locked box where the money is kept, opens it and put the 50 in gives me 10.  He moves very slowly.  For people who live in big cities and try to catch something all the time moving slowly might be very painful.  But I adopt quickly so I don’t care how long it takes. I have nothing to do, nowhere to be… I stick the bottles in mu bag, walk out. “Namaste” and a smile.

 

 

I light another cigarette on the way back.  I walk slowly and looking around.  Not being in a hurry is the most beautiful thing for me… As slow as you want.  People yell “ Hello” from their houses, I smile, wave and say “Hello”.  They ask me again where I am going, I say home.

 

 

 

When I reach the house Babu and Nani are sitting down to eat.  I again eat with them. This dal bhat tarkari turns out to be really delicious… The potatoes first taste to hot but now I am getting used to it.  I didn’t really like the hot spices much before.  But here it is a significant taste and I am a guest, I can’t  ask them to cook me a separate meal.  So I will get used to it, later on I will love it… Learning to love is much easier than rejecting to accept…

 

 

Manju

 

Next morning, someone is banging on my door, really hard.  Esbettt!! yells Ayush, the 9 year old boy.  They call him Babu. First born boy is called Babu and the first born girl is called Nani here.  I opened the door and he has a glass of tea in his hands with a smile and “Good morning!”.  I take the tea, thanking and sit outside, took a zip it is sweet, black tea with ginger and some other spices.  Oh what will I do without my lattes? This tea tastes odd.  And I still haven’t figured out the cigarette issue.  Shreeram told me there was no smoking in the house.  So I didn’t.  Oh I wish I had a coffee and a cigarette to wake up.  Well, I will find a way.

 

For now I am zipping my tea, and looking around takes my breath away.  Nepal is consisted of three areas.  The first is the highland. Average height is 6000m.  Eight of the  15 highest peaks are in this area.  Including Everest of course.  The other area is the hilly area as they call it.  Average height is 2000-2500 m.  And where I am is the lowland, about 200m higher than sea level.  With my tea in my hand I stand in the middle of an endless land.  You can sea the mountain Anapurna on a clear day.  Around me are rice fields surrounded with mountain tops.  Later I would understand how the Nepali could sit on the ground without doing nothing for hours.  For now my crowded and restless mind won’t let me give in the beautiful moment. 

 

 

Shreeram and his wife are not home.  Rekha Didi (sister in Nepali), babu and nai we finished our tea.  Nani who is 4 years old didn’t really sit at all.  And I will not see her sitting still except the times she ate for the coming 2 months.  By the way I thought she was a very small girl until I learned that she was just 4 years old.  She drank her tea and ate her cereal, then opened her books, to do her homework.  She wrote her Nepali and English words.  Then she packed up everything.  Babu asked me if I was hungry at 9:00.  I said “Yes!”   So we sat down to eat. Dal, bhat and tarkari again.  I looked at the food and regretted the moments I ordered rice when I could have chosen anything.  This is the food here. Breakfast and dinner. It is cultural and it is all they have.  Now you know...

 

They got ready for school quickly.  Nani put on her school uniform, a red old skirt and a white shirt.  She got ready on her own, made her hair with a very bad smelling oil, which was probably the secret of that beautiful, shining, long black hair of Nepali women.  Everything has a price, you see...

 

 

She looked very cute.  They want to school together.  At 11:00 Asa and Santi came home.  They go to government school, it starts at 6:00 and finished at 11:00.  Asa is Rekha Didi’s daughter.  Rekha’s husband went to Sri Lanka to work years ago and never came back. Nobody has heard from him.  She had 2 other daughters, I learned later.  They live with their aunt in the Tharu villiage that I will teach.   Asa is in the My World project and has a sponsor who helps her with expenses.  Santi has no family and has a sponsor as well.  When Shreeram finds enough sponsor to get this project going he will build a house for children with no families.  $15 a months you can help one child.  That’s nothing for a lot of people but everything for Santi, Asa and a lot who need help.

 

After Asa and Santi came home, they ate and sat down to do their homework.  Afterwards they sat in the yard playing with 5 stones they keep in the window casing.  This is a game my mother would tell me about, that they used to play in Malatya, where my mom was born.  It is the kind of game made up from nothing but goes on forever. You hold on to 4 stones, throw the other in the air and catch it. Then you keep throwing more stones and catch them. Every time you throw one more than before and afterwards you go on changing variations.  It becomes very hard after a while.  I never played these games.  Because my generation had toys.  We did not have 5 really carefully picked nice stones, keep them with care.  We did not have to build a whole world out of bottle caps, strings, grass and trash.  Everything was given to us ready.  And wrong! We took example from thin, tall, blonde Barbie toys, wanted to be like them, dress nicely like them.  We were encouraged to be moms playing with toy babies, do house work with toy irons,  be fast with cars, and unfortunately be violent with toy guns!  Instead of growing up with what goes through our heart or mind we were raised with what goes through the toy makers’ mind...

 

Seeing these little girls with 5 stones having so much fun I thought to myself if I ever have a child 5 stones will be enough.  The stones are always kept in a safe place.  They don’t get lost, because they are precious.  5 stones at the same size.  This is all they need to spend the whole afternoon.  If we could teach this to our children there would be not many problems...

 The rest of the family is coming home.  Shreeram and Sarita came at 11:30.  They eat, do house work.  Sarita and Rekha go to the filed to cut grass.  So the corn filed is clean of wild grass and the goat has food.  At  4 o’clock it is tea time.  And the tea which tasted odd at the first, now tastes much better.  Maybe Sarita puts more ginger in it.  Shreeram and I studied some Nepali.  At this age learning a new language is very hard.  Maybe basic sentences will be enough for me.

 

 

I sat in my room for a while.  I always sit in my room.  When I was living at my mom’s I sat in my room.  Especially during that shitty time called puberty.  I used to eat and go back to my room.  Now I have the tendency to even spend more time in the room, I don’t know anyone, I can’t talk to anyone.  I brought 5 books and my music.  I know they will call me the odd one, everybody has. But as soon as they get to know me they will like me.  Everybody doesJ When we were young, we had guests and I would say hello and run to my room, my sister she wouldn’t leave their side.  So everybody loved her.  This did not change, obviously.  It is hard to change... So we just arrange our life style and our environment accordingly...

We keep the people who accept us as we are.  Friends from high school for example.  We keep the people who don’t judge us around.  They didn’t judge my oddness here.  They didn’t care.  Life is so simple here, no one has the luxury, time or will to ask why...

At dinner we had our dal,bhat tarkari and the family decided that my name was difficult to learn, so they gave me a new name.  My name is not a common name in my own country as well and it was made fun of a lot.  Sarita gave all the volunteers a name so she thought and decided on Manju.  I thought Manju, a good end to the second day.  Among cricket songs, night birds, a soft wind and sounds unknown, tonight is a more comfortable night, even a little cooler.  Maybe it is just me feeling a little more at ease.  I am in Nepal.  Still have my doubts but I am here.  I am Manju.

 

Goodnight Manju.