I just made two posts at once- one written 6 days ago, but without the internet to post it, and one written now. Read the earlier one first if you haven't already!
Funnily enough, I just don't "bathe" that much in Nepal. There are several reasons for this: the absence of hot water, the constant presence of a stuffy nose (which makes me ignorant of possible smelliness), and the general lack of any nudity, which somehow also translates into a lack of bathing-awareness. While i generally only go through the whole bathing process twice a week, the weekend was an extreme exception, in fact I think i was thoroughly soaked in water a good deal of yesterday. This is because the Nepali festival, Holy, is basically a huge water fight, utilizing balloons, plastic bags, buckets, plastic bottles, and even eggs or chili sauce in Kathmandu. The only problem with Holy is that the kids start warming up for it two weeks before the full-moon, the day on which the water-war truly begins. Instead, the week before Holy, and especially the last three days, walking through the village of Sankhu is to take your life (or at least your clean, dry clothes) into your own hands. Kristel and I did brave a brief voyage down the mountain on Saturday, but were given a tip by Sabu, one of the girls, to wear raincoats, a suggestion that was both ingenious and quite useful.
Yesterday, however, was nothing short of glorious. Imagine the neighborhood water fights you had in elementary school and then expand the age group from 5-25, and then expand the number of kids to 50, and then add a nice sunny day and lots of shrieking. To signal your participation you paint your face with color, something Danny, Kristel and I did Avatar-style in our room before venturing out to face the onslaught.
After I finally got dry (and very very clean) I worked on two projects that I have been learning/doing with some of the older girls: crocheting and making t-shirts. Now I often claim to have made a t-shirt, but I usually just mean that i spray-painted something sweet on it. In this case, we made our own patterns out of an existing t-shirt, cut the cloth, and sewed it all together by hand- pretty freakin sweet! I still have one sleeve to go, and the neck and bottom to hem, but she's shaping up pretty nicely, and the five of us are all planning on wearing our completed shirts for the first time on the same day. I'm also working on crocheting, which kabita started to teach me about a week ago. While slow at first, I'm starting to get faster and neater- i'm excited to be able to make things with my own hands! Finally getting momentum on a project has opened up my eyes to so many more, especially because learning with the girls is way more fun then just teaching them something. I guess I always worried that I needed to show them something I already knew, but advancing in shared ignorance is not only fun, but yielding really awesome results! I'm already designing other clothes/jewelry projects in my head, i just need to find the supplies in Kathmandu (the real challenge). I recently met an older Australian woman who comes to Nepal 4 months of every year and does all sorts of projects with the kids. She offered to show me her 'spots' in Kathmandu to buy supplies when I am there this week, so hopefully I'll be prepared to do/learn all sorts of new things when I return.
Doing these sorts of projects with the older girls isn't just fun, I also find myself becoming much closer to them. At first, conversations could only go so far because of language barriers and especially cultural/comfort barriers. Now we're chatting about boys, and joking about farting, all while we work on projects. It's such a nice feeling, to be part of this girl-community, one quite unlike the hanging out I often do at home, which always seems to center around going somewhere instead of making something. The closest I've come to this at home is probably cooking in the kitchen, but there is something so relaxing and intimate, but still open, about hanging out with the girls- I find myself very content.
More and more I feel like PA Nepal is my home. I do not crave western foods all the time, but am excited to see what kind of curry there is for dinner/breakfast, although they are often similar there are many different vegetables and flavors to choose from. When I first came here and my mind went wandering, it usually found it's way to the people and places from home or at college. Recently, however, I feel a shift: my mind is occupied with the relationships I am building here, the projects I am working on in Sankhu (photo or craft), and the daily chores or past-times that I'd like to do. I won't try to pretend that I don't get pangs of homesickness or loneliness, or that I sometimes am annoyed with the kids or feel cooped up in the village, but I certainly am very happy here, and learning more about myself and others all the time.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
(from tuesday, 2/23)- late-posted blog, itching and scratching, copious freetime, kurta making, different world perspectives
The last couple of days I felt itchy. One explanation is definitely the itchy red bites on my jaw and ankle, which feel suspiciously bedbuggy. Although I eschewed the mattresses here I still padded the plywood with a blanket, one which is apparently well-bugged. Luckily a couple of bites in a month are by no means unbearable… as long as it doesn’t get worse! I’ve also been itchy because of the staggering amount of free time here. Although I extolled its virtues in previous posts, so much openness can also feel unbearably oppressive. To combat these feelings, I am pursuing a surprising number of handicraft activities: weaving on cardboard looms, hopefully learning crocheting, and various sewing projects. Perhaps this is why pioneer women were so good at making doilies and such- boredom is an excellent motivator.
However, this frustration comes and goes. Some days are full to the brim with great experiences and moments, and some days I feel content even though little happens. Today I went for a hike after breakfast, bypassing the temple above us in favor of a switch-backy dirt path which reaches a lovely bluff overlooking the valley. Realizing I was late, I rushed back to accompany the kids who don’t go to Junkiri down to government school. Last time the volunteers who weren’t teaching in the morning often did this, and I was scolded several days ago by several of the girls for not doing it again- I didn’t think they missed me! Today I realized that I also missed the walk when Durga, an 11-year old, took my hand and made up a story that took up the entire journey to school (poor girl, dead family, ghostly mother trying to steal her single rupee- you’ve got the general plot). I wandered around different parts of the valley while I waited for the internet shop to open so I could try and apply for jobs and such. After I got back to the home I got to show my students the photos taken by “American” students for the first project: “Light and Shadows”. They were especially taken by a picture of an ice-hockey game, immediately recognizing “hockey” but hardly comprehending the “ice”. When I finished explaining one of the kids started shivering and shaking his head in horror.
Yesterday I felt particularly unproductive as I was in the house all day, so I set off with Kristel to do some shopping. Isn’t this always the solution? I’ll admit: this isn’t 5th Avenue mall, or even Salvation Army (for those of you who know my true tastes). No, this was shopping, Nepali style. First we picked up some biscuits and chocolate for afternoon munching, when hunger and homesickness combine to form a regrettable craving for Cadbury’s chocolate. Then we set off on our real errand: to commission ourselves a kurta.
The kurta is typical Nepali women’s dress: a tunic-styled mid-thigh dress with slits up the side, under which you wear surwal, those wide Indian-looking pants that bag so becomingly under the hips. To complete the ensemble is a long filmy scarf, usually matching the color of the pants. This outfit is always made to size by a local tailor, but before you can start you must first choose your fabric, often at a different shop. After much deliberation and true courage given the seemingly endless supplies of fabric and seemingly depthless language barrier, Kristel settled on a pre-arranged set of fabric consisting of embroidered pink and turquoise. I found a gorgeous green fabric with a gold design, but couldn’t find the right pants material in chocolate brown. It was lucky I did not, as I realized today that this combination would result in a strong resemblance to a Christmas-tree. This morning I bought some blue material for pants, but have already run into opposition at both the shop, where they seemed genuinely concerned by my bad taste, and by the one girl at PA whom I bravely showed my material to (imagine the words “But it does not match!” said with complete indignance). Ah, well.
Small reminders from my e-mail help me appreciate the time I have here and strive to use it. Earlier this week I found an inbox swamped with worried questions about housing next year, as well as my PFD appeal to the Alaska state government, and a decided lack of job opportunities for the summer. These moments make me appreciate being away from these daily stresses but they also underscore how far away my world is. Sometimes I will be teaching or talking with the kids and realize they know nothing about something that is fundamental and normal in “my” world. The Olympics, for example, or the earthquake in Haiti, or World War II- all of these practically don’t exist here. While the kids know tons more about Nepal than I ever will, including its language, they seem to know next to nothing about what I would consider basic world history. It’s funny though- I bet they know more about Asian history than I do, so perhaps it’s all dependent on region and perspective. Another things that seems odd is that the kids here really look up to China and hate India, probably because Nepal lies right in-between and always seems to be cheated or manipulated by India’s government. It’s both nice and discomforting to be reminded again and again that America is not the center of the world, and to see how much more is out there.
However, this frustration comes and goes. Some days are full to the brim with great experiences and moments, and some days I feel content even though little happens. Today I went for a hike after breakfast, bypassing the temple above us in favor of a switch-backy dirt path which reaches a lovely bluff overlooking the valley. Realizing I was late, I rushed back to accompany the kids who don’t go to Junkiri down to government school. Last time the volunteers who weren’t teaching in the morning often did this, and I was scolded several days ago by several of the girls for not doing it again- I didn’t think they missed me! Today I realized that I also missed the walk when Durga, an 11-year old, took my hand and made up a story that took up the entire journey to school (poor girl, dead family, ghostly mother trying to steal her single rupee- you’ve got the general plot). I wandered around different parts of the valley while I waited for the internet shop to open so I could try and apply for jobs and such. After I got back to the home I got to show my students the photos taken by “American” students for the first project: “Light and Shadows”. They were especially taken by a picture of an ice-hockey game, immediately recognizing “hockey” but hardly comprehending the “ice”. When I finished explaining one of the kids started shivering and shaking his head in horror.
Yesterday I felt particularly unproductive as I was in the house all day, so I set off with Kristel to do some shopping. Isn’t this always the solution? I’ll admit: this isn’t 5th Avenue mall, or even Salvation Army (for those of you who know my true tastes). No, this was shopping, Nepali style. First we picked up some biscuits and chocolate for afternoon munching, when hunger and homesickness combine to form a regrettable craving for Cadbury’s chocolate. Then we set off on our real errand: to commission ourselves a kurta.
The kurta is typical Nepali women’s dress: a tunic-styled mid-thigh dress with slits up the side, under which you wear surwal, those wide Indian-looking pants that bag so becomingly under the hips. To complete the ensemble is a long filmy scarf, usually matching the color of the pants. This outfit is always made to size by a local tailor, but before you can start you must first choose your fabric, often at a different shop. After much deliberation and true courage given the seemingly endless supplies of fabric and seemingly depthless language barrier, Kristel settled on a pre-arranged set of fabric consisting of embroidered pink and turquoise. I found a gorgeous green fabric with a gold design, but couldn’t find the right pants material in chocolate brown. It was lucky I did not, as I realized today that this combination would result in a strong resemblance to a Christmas-tree. This morning I bought some blue material for pants, but have already run into opposition at both the shop, where they seemed genuinely concerned by my bad taste, and by the one girl at PA whom I bravely showed my material to (imagine the words “But it does not match!” said with complete indignance). Ah, well.
Small reminders from my e-mail help me appreciate the time I have here and strive to use it. Earlier this week I found an inbox swamped with worried questions about housing next year, as well as my PFD appeal to the Alaska state government, and a decided lack of job opportunities for the summer. These moments make me appreciate being away from these daily stresses but they also underscore how far away my world is. Sometimes I will be teaching or talking with the kids and realize they know nothing about something that is fundamental and normal in “my” world. The Olympics, for example, or the earthquake in Haiti, or World War II- all of these practically don’t exist here. While the kids know tons more about Nepal than I ever will, including its language, they seem to know next to nothing about what I would consider basic world history. It’s funny though- I bet they know more about Asian history than I do, so perhaps it’s all dependent on region and perspective. Another things that seems odd is that the kids here really look up to China and hate India, probably because Nepal lies right in-between and always seems to be cheated or manipulated by India’s government. It’s both nice and discomforting to be reminded again and again that America is not the center of the world, and to see how much more is out there.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Shivaratri, a bizarrely Nepali church service, bondas, food poisoning, there and back again
Time is funny here- some days pass with incredible slowness, only to be followed by a week that teleports by. My last week here was very much the latter of the two- I can hardly believe that a whole week is over. Last Friday we celebrated Shivaratri, the festival symbolizing the end of winter, during which we had a great big bonfire outside of the home. I actually didn’t think it would even pass the lighting stage as they wanted to burn two huge roots and stumps that had been dug out of a hillside when they were doing construction. Those solid and massive hunks of wood looked dirty and very very solidly inflammable. Against all odds, and with the help of some modern day chemicals, they were burning cheerily and the kids crowded around for hours. They formed two teams on different sides of the fire and sang Hindi or Nepali songs, a competition in which one team would stop on a word and the next team would have to start a new song beginning with the last letter. It was pretty fun to watch, but would’ve been more fun to participate in. I tried to help out when “my” team was stuck on “R” by singing “Rock me mama like a wagon wheel, rock me mama any way you feel”, only to be told “Auntie, you don’t sing, okay?” The Nepali people are so blunt… Luckily I had a smoky fire and a sky full of stars to comfort me- Shivaratri was a lovely night.
The next day I was ready to go to Kathmandu right away, but unfortunately I’d promised another volunteer that I would help take some of the kids to church down in Sankhu. PA Nepal is technically Christian, although many of the kids don’t seem to know much about Jesus in comparison to Krishna, Shiva or Buddha. However, some of the kids are sincerely devout, and that number seemed to grow the more we tried not to be late. Forty-five minutes after we started to leave we walked down the hill, three volunteers trying rather unsuccessfully to keep 19 skipping kids in line, who seemed entirely too cheerful for a Saturday sermon (Sunday isn’t a holiday in Nepal).
We didn’t know where the church was, so we let Jimuna, one of the older girls, lead the group to the small bus park outside the government school. Looking at the building she pointed to, I could see no signs of any religious institution inside. What I could see on the top floor was a huge sign announcing Sankhu’s “Communist Party Center”, accompanied by a cheerily waving large-size communist flag. Raising my eyebrows I was led into a small alleyway between the building and up about ten flights of narrow, completely dark stairs. We came out on the rooftop, next to the flag, and were soon introduced to a cheerful, portly man who is the priest. He was doing his laundry in a bucket next to us, and informed us in limited English that the service wouldn’t begin until 10:30, about 40 minutes away.
Oh no! None of the kids had eaten breakfast yet, and neither had we, so Kati, one of the volunteers, ran down to buy some snacks for the kids. She came back with little fried rice-flour doughnuts and bananas, but when we tried to hand them out we were informed that you can only eat AFTER you pray. Me and the other volunteers exchanged a look. Darn it. Then we found out that the service would be about two hours. Double darn it. Despite these dire forewarnings the service was a pleasant experience, although all of the bibles and the sermon were in Nepali, and thus completely incomprehensible. However, they sang Hindi-style songs as hymns, accompanied by a small drum, and I was completely amazed by how well-behaved the children were, especially because some of them are perhaps only four years old. They paid attention, had a minimum of fidgeting, and prayed with their eyes squeezed shut and their hands together with the same intensity as everyone else in the room. At the end the priest and some of the weekly church-goers served biscuits and milk tea to all of us. We shared our snacks with the congregation, which had tripled in size due to our surprising appearance that morning.
We walked the kids home and returned to the bus park to take a bus into Kathmandu. After trying to board two buses and getting turned away, we finally understood that it was a “bonda”, the Nepali word for strike. Soon we realized that there were three bondas in between us and the city, and thus we had three options: go back to the home, get a taxi, or walk. We settled for a mix between the latter two, walking to the outskirts of Kathmandu, about 7 km away, and then trying to catch a taxi there. I was actually excited about walking along the road in the sunshine, past terraced fields and small villages- especially because the traffic would be very low. However, after perhaps a half-hour of walking we flagged down a taxi that already had a father and two daughters in it. They were very nice and offered to let us ride with them, not to be outdone, the taxi driver offered to let us pay 800 rupees ($11-12) for the privilege. Up went our bags onto the top of the taxi, and we piled, clownlike, into the tiny “Honda” car, which easily squishes three passengers, let alone the six inside. We took side roads to avoid strike blockades, meaning that we had to jump out and push the taxi up a rocky, dusty and vertical road, but also meaning that we drove through beautiful little villages that I had never seen before. Despite the many setbacks of the day, I was feeling quite cheerful by the time we finally got to Kathmandu- all the Nepali people, from those at the church to those in the taxi, had been lovely and friendly, and I truly appreciated getting to meet them.
Unfortunately, my first night in Kathmandu I ate something questionable (what exactly is unknown). I arose the next morning feeling quite hung-over, despite the lack of any real alcohol the night before, and the nausea only worsened as I tried to stagger through the things I needed to do in Kathmandu. Soon I was in bed in my hotel, hoping to sleep it off, but ended up having one of the worst nights I can remember with a high fever, terrible headache (probably from dehydration), and a very grumpy stomach. I arose the next morning grateful to still be alive, and cautiously ate some breakfast with the hopes that I could replace all the electrolytes I must’ve sweated in the night. Salted toast? Sugar-thickened tea? Sign me up!
I spent the rest of my time in Kathmandu lying low- applying for jobs online, buying some books and dvds, and basically waiting until I felt better so I could get back to the village. I did get one great surprise- Sean, one of my old Alaskan friends, is coming to visit over his spring break in only 2-3 weeks! I invited lots of people to come to Nepal with me, but didn’t expect anyone (except my lovely father) to take me up on the offer. I’m excited to have someone to help me with photo class, and to explore Kathmandu and Sankhu with a partner in crime- doing it alone has never really appealed to me.
I am back in Sankhu, and far less excited to go back to Kathmandu in the future. Likewise, rice and curry seem newly delicious, and especially secure in comparison to the possibly bacteria-ridden food in Kathmandu. It took me two days to get over the physical exhaustion that accompanied my sickness, but yesterday I was finally up. I did my favorite chore, laundry, in the stream and got involved in an impromptu water fight, which I definitely, definitely lost. Someone even dumped water on me from a second-story window as I chased one of the perpetrators with a pot of water from the kitchen. Soon I was hanging up another set of clothes next to my laundry on the line- still giggling and out-of-breath from the chase.
The next day I was ready to go to Kathmandu right away, but unfortunately I’d promised another volunteer that I would help take some of the kids to church down in Sankhu. PA Nepal is technically Christian, although many of the kids don’t seem to know much about Jesus in comparison to Krishna, Shiva or Buddha. However, some of the kids are sincerely devout, and that number seemed to grow the more we tried not to be late. Forty-five minutes after we started to leave we walked down the hill, three volunteers trying rather unsuccessfully to keep 19 skipping kids in line, who seemed entirely too cheerful for a Saturday sermon (Sunday isn’t a holiday in Nepal).
We didn’t know where the church was, so we let Jimuna, one of the older girls, lead the group to the small bus park outside the government school. Looking at the building she pointed to, I could see no signs of any religious institution inside. What I could see on the top floor was a huge sign announcing Sankhu’s “Communist Party Center”, accompanied by a cheerily waving large-size communist flag. Raising my eyebrows I was led into a small alleyway between the building and up about ten flights of narrow, completely dark stairs. We came out on the rooftop, next to the flag, and were soon introduced to a cheerful, portly man who is the priest. He was doing his laundry in a bucket next to us, and informed us in limited English that the service wouldn’t begin until 10:30, about 40 minutes away.
Oh no! None of the kids had eaten breakfast yet, and neither had we, so Kati, one of the volunteers, ran down to buy some snacks for the kids. She came back with little fried rice-flour doughnuts and bananas, but when we tried to hand them out we were informed that you can only eat AFTER you pray. Me and the other volunteers exchanged a look. Darn it. Then we found out that the service would be about two hours. Double darn it. Despite these dire forewarnings the service was a pleasant experience, although all of the bibles and the sermon were in Nepali, and thus completely incomprehensible. However, they sang Hindi-style songs as hymns, accompanied by a small drum, and I was completely amazed by how well-behaved the children were, especially because some of them are perhaps only four years old. They paid attention, had a minimum of fidgeting, and prayed with their eyes squeezed shut and their hands together with the same intensity as everyone else in the room. At the end the priest and some of the weekly church-goers served biscuits and milk tea to all of us. We shared our snacks with the congregation, which had tripled in size due to our surprising appearance that morning.
We walked the kids home and returned to the bus park to take a bus into Kathmandu. After trying to board two buses and getting turned away, we finally understood that it was a “bonda”, the Nepali word for strike. Soon we realized that there were three bondas in between us and the city, and thus we had three options: go back to the home, get a taxi, or walk. We settled for a mix between the latter two, walking to the outskirts of Kathmandu, about 7 km away, and then trying to catch a taxi there. I was actually excited about walking along the road in the sunshine, past terraced fields and small villages- especially because the traffic would be very low. However, after perhaps a half-hour of walking we flagged down a taxi that already had a father and two daughters in it. They were very nice and offered to let us ride with them, not to be outdone, the taxi driver offered to let us pay 800 rupees ($11-12) for the privilege. Up went our bags onto the top of the taxi, and we piled, clownlike, into the tiny “Honda” car, which easily squishes three passengers, let alone the six inside. We took side roads to avoid strike blockades, meaning that we had to jump out and push the taxi up a rocky, dusty and vertical road, but also meaning that we drove through beautiful little villages that I had never seen before. Despite the many setbacks of the day, I was feeling quite cheerful by the time we finally got to Kathmandu- all the Nepali people, from those at the church to those in the taxi, had been lovely and friendly, and I truly appreciated getting to meet them.
Unfortunately, my first night in Kathmandu I ate something questionable (what exactly is unknown). I arose the next morning feeling quite hung-over, despite the lack of any real alcohol the night before, and the nausea only worsened as I tried to stagger through the things I needed to do in Kathmandu. Soon I was in bed in my hotel, hoping to sleep it off, but ended up having one of the worst nights I can remember with a high fever, terrible headache (probably from dehydration), and a very grumpy stomach. I arose the next morning grateful to still be alive, and cautiously ate some breakfast with the hopes that I could replace all the electrolytes I must’ve sweated in the night. Salted toast? Sugar-thickened tea? Sign me up!
I spent the rest of my time in Kathmandu lying low- applying for jobs online, buying some books and dvds, and basically waiting until I felt better so I could get back to the village. I did get one great surprise- Sean, one of my old Alaskan friends, is coming to visit over his spring break in only 2-3 weeks! I invited lots of people to come to Nepal with me, but didn’t expect anyone (except my lovely father) to take me up on the offer. I’m excited to have someone to help me with photo class, and to explore Kathmandu and Sankhu with a partner in crime- doing it alone has never really appealed to me.
I am back in Sankhu, and far less excited to go back to Kathmandu in the future. Likewise, rice and curry seem newly delicious, and especially secure in comparison to the possibly bacteria-ridden food in Kathmandu. It took me two days to get over the physical exhaustion that accompanied my sickness, but yesterday I was finally up. I did my favorite chore, laundry, in the stream and got involved in an impromptu water fight, which I definitely, definitely lost. Someone even dumped water on me from a second-story window as I chased one of the perpetrators with a pot of water from the kitchen. Soon I was hanging up another set of clothes next to my laundry on the line- still giggling and out-of-breath from the chase.
Monday, February 15, 2010
a couple of quick notes to add to the last post
If this picture actually went through it is of my students taking pictures the first time with thier camera- it was only about 20-30 minutes and they went crazy, having so much fun!
Anyhow, on the matter of updates:
The first, and most exciting thing is that i know the mail system at PA is officially in order, i should get letters sent there. This is an exciting update because Parbat, the guy in the PA office who has the postbox key, went on vacation around christmas, and in typical nepali style nobody knew: 1. where he was, 2. when he'd be back, and 3. why he brought the postbox key with him. Other frustrated volunteers had been waiting a month and a half to get christmas letters and packages, and were quite irate. A change of fortune occured earlier this week when the key magically appeared. did Parbat use the mail system to return the key? no, that would be impossible- how would we know it was in the post office, or for that matter, be able to get it out? instead he gave it to a bus driver where he is chilling, and asked the man to deliver it to PA nepal. by the law of entropy this worked, and the postbox key is now back in the office. A German friend, Jannik, who lives in the Kathmandu home assures me that he will be checking it regularly and will hand off my letters to those headed out to sankhu. Thus- mail away! i'd love to hear from people.
Second: you CAN send me packages, something i thought was impossible, as long as they are not very large and under 4 pounds, which is super-exciting. (dear mom- i am sorry i so vehemently protested the sending of packages, it was only out of fear of the international post-office, which is an established nightmare. now that they will arrive in small-size directly to the PA post box i have no fear- send away!).
anyhow, read below for a more detailed life-nepal update, i just wanted to be sure this crucial information got out.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
the nature of illness, a grumpy rainy day, the kitchen and food, washing in the sun, a plethora of tea.
If you should know one thing before you go to Nepal it’s that you will get sick. The question is only the manner and duration of the illness. Most people who come get some kind of intestinal issue, usually where stomach contents are going out in unusual ways or unusual paces. Instead of encountering this ‘normal’ problem, both times I have taken my Alaskan/Maine roots seriously and instead contracted the common cold- Nepali style. This means a cough which at first is spastic enough to make you throw up your breakfast, and then metamorphosizes into a true weight on your chest and mouthfuls of yellow phlegm (not pleasant, trust me, I know).
The brunt of my cold took it’s cue from the skies, which on Tuesday opened up into the first rain in the Kathmandu Valley since October. Though this was probably good news for the crops and plants, it is hardly pleasant when you live in a big brick home full of windows and no heating system, unless you count sleeping bags, human bodies, and candles. To compound the problem, the older kids who attend the government school had a 3-day ‘holiday’ which turned out to be a teacher strike. The kids found out on Sunday after walking down to school, returning 20 minutes later and explaining their reappearance through the confusing “the teachers at our school have a fight!” After I finally understood that there hadn’t been a brawl I joined the Nepali’s in saying “Ke Garne?” which means “What to do?” Consequently, on the day of this chilly day of rain 60 kids were all cooped up inside one house with no electricity and even less to do.
Combined with my cold it made for a rather grumpy day, but the next day the sun was shining again, and my spirits have been high. Sankhu is an odd place- last time I thought constantly of home, probably because so many new experiences at once were hard to deal with. This time, however, I feel much more present. To give you an idea of a general day here, I usually wake up around 6 to the dulcet tones of a loud buzzer, which in fact is like waking up to a mild electric shock, although I probably exaggerate. I then lie in bed for an hour or so reading or listening to music, or perhaps just thinking, a lovely privilege given my usual experience of bounding out of bed to start being productive. I share the room with three other volunteers at present, although one has just been here for the week, and it’s nice to hear each person wake up and quietly take some time for themself, even though we are all in the same space.
Around 7 or 7:30 we are usually all up, at which point there’s no exact schedule (a common theme out in Sankhu). I usually go and help kids with their homework or sit in the sun and talk with some of the older kids. I almost always check in the kitchen to say good morning to the cooks and see if they need help. I’ll admit, I also have an ulterior motive: tea. They are always making tea in the morning, and it’s almost always tasty, despite being laced with enough sugar to create an army of diabetics. As an auntie I am also almost always offered some when I come in, which makes a goodmorning in the kitchen well worth it, even if they don’t need any help.
This is the case most of the time, but the older girls that I am closer to always invite me to stay, even if I’m just peeling garlic or cutting potatoes, because the kitchen is such a social place. My favorite discovery is that talking is in no way integral to spending quality time together. I think the boys in the US understand this very well, and do activities together without saying much. I’ll admit, ‘girl time’ at home rarely has this element- instead it seems that conversation is constantly on the menu. It’s nice to just spend time with people and appreciate them, without needing to say anything. I am learning this lesson especially well because I don’t understand half of the things that are said around me, namely because they are said in Nepali.
After breakfast I try and take a walk or hike somewhere, although this week I have taken a rain check, both literally and in the figurative, I-need-to-get-better-first kind of way. I usually get back at the beginning of Junkiri primary school, which adjoins the house, just as the two other volunteers who come to teach during the day both arrive. As there are usually five of us, along with five Nepali teachers, and only 6 classes (Nursery through class five), I usually don’t teach for the first four periods. Instead I use that time taking that time to do small chores, my favorite being laundry and bathing in the little brook next to the house. I’ll admit, this can be really chilly, but the sun shines right down on the rocks, and the soap and the clothes are beneath your hands, and the water pours down onto your head, and at the end I always feel happy and calm.
I also use the morning to read or to set up my photo lessons, both planning the curriculum and reflecting on how previous classes went. The most time goes into uploading photos from the previous sessions and readying the cameras for new photographers, as 15 photographers are currently using 8 cameras at different times, and I expect the number of students to increase, given the number of requests I’ve had for lessons. Unfortunately, none of them will be as in-depth as the lessons I’m giving to classes 4 and 5, although two older girls who are very self-motivated are working on an alphabet exchange project that I hope to do with some students at Brunswick High. For the most part I think I will do some weekend workshops with people who are interested, showing them basic camera functions and doing a short project, most likely “Portraits” given the hard-to-beat fixation of these kids on taking hundreds of pictures of themselves and their friends, all of which are generally indistinguishable from each other.
After school is out, or on weekends/holidays, I usually spend some time just hanging out in the room with the other volunteers, talking over lessons and getting some time away from the kids, which is crucial given that we live with 60 of them all day, every day. Often I will walk down to the village, with or without other volunteers, and buy fruit for the next day, but only enough for 1-2 days because it's a good excuse for a walk. The apples here aren't as tasty as home, but i'm hoping to spice them up by buying peanut butter in kathmandu (it's not going to be the best peanut butter ever, but i'll probably appreciate it just as much). The oranges, however, are excellent, and the grapes in season right now are nice two, small, tart and sweet. In the evenings we help with homework/in the kitchen, or wait impatiently upstairs for dinner, which is served at varying times due to the electricity schedule- once we ate at 5:30, and sometimes at 8:30. I am learning patience. In the evenings i usually read, finish up projects or curriculum planning, and/or listen to music. Basically, i have more relaxing time here than i know what to do with, and sometimes more than i enjoy, but it's all a part of working and living in Sankhu.
One of the girls just brought me unasked for hot tea. Amazing. This is the best, most personalized, appreciated room service in the world. Let me tell you- I may appreciate a good piece of toast with avocadoes on it at home, but you appreciate so much more when you are far away and eat the same thing (rice and curry) twice a day, every day. It’s usually pretty tasty, but still. Hopefully I don’t give myself a stomach ache in Kathmandu, where I will be spending the weekend to send and upload PhotoPals pictures and have a little pampering- hot showers, my own room, and western food. While excited for the comforts of ‘home’ I’m still definitely happy here. Today is Shivaratri, a festival signaling the end of winter, and we will have a big bonfire and dancing until late in the night. (note: Kabita, an amazing girl here who feels like a kindred spirit just brought me MORE tea. I now have two steaming cups, and the second is Nepali milk tea. Score!) This is a good note on which to end this entry, which I am typing now to post tomorrow in the city. I am sipping my tea and looking at the light slant downwards with the setting of the sun.
The brunt of my cold took it’s cue from the skies, which on Tuesday opened up into the first rain in the Kathmandu Valley since October. Though this was probably good news for the crops and plants, it is hardly pleasant when you live in a big brick home full of windows and no heating system, unless you count sleeping bags, human bodies, and candles. To compound the problem, the older kids who attend the government school had a 3-day ‘holiday’ which turned out to be a teacher strike. The kids found out on Sunday after walking down to school, returning 20 minutes later and explaining their reappearance through the confusing “the teachers at our school have a fight!” After I finally understood that there hadn’t been a brawl I joined the Nepali’s in saying “Ke Garne?” which means “What to do?” Consequently, on the day of this chilly day of rain 60 kids were all cooped up inside one house with no electricity and even less to do.
Combined with my cold it made for a rather grumpy day, but the next day the sun was shining again, and my spirits have been high. Sankhu is an odd place- last time I thought constantly of home, probably because so many new experiences at once were hard to deal with. This time, however, I feel much more present. To give you an idea of a general day here, I usually wake up around 6 to the dulcet tones of a loud buzzer, which in fact is like waking up to a mild electric shock, although I probably exaggerate. I then lie in bed for an hour or so reading or listening to music, or perhaps just thinking, a lovely privilege given my usual experience of bounding out of bed to start being productive. I share the room with three other volunteers at present, although one has just been here for the week, and it’s nice to hear each person wake up and quietly take some time for themself, even though we are all in the same space.
Around 7 or 7:30 we are usually all up, at which point there’s no exact schedule (a common theme out in Sankhu). I usually go and help kids with their homework or sit in the sun and talk with some of the older kids. I almost always check in the kitchen to say good morning to the cooks and see if they need help. I’ll admit, I also have an ulterior motive: tea. They are always making tea in the morning, and it’s almost always tasty, despite being laced with enough sugar to create an army of diabetics. As an auntie I am also almost always offered some when I come in, which makes a goodmorning in the kitchen well worth it, even if they don’t need any help.
This is the case most of the time, but the older girls that I am closer to always invite me to stay, even if I’m just peeling garlic or cutting potatoes, because the kitchen is such a social place. My favorite discovery is that talking is in no way integral to spending quality time together. I think the boys in the US understand this very well, and do activities together without saying much. I’ll admit, ‘girl time’ at home rarely has this element- instead it seems that conversation is constantly on the menu. It’s nice to just spend time with people and appreciate them, without needing to say anything. I am learning this lesson especially well because I don’t understand half of the things that are said around me, namely because they are said in Nepali.
After breakfast I try and take a walk or hike somewhere, although this week I have taken a rain check, both literally and in the figurative, I-need-to-get-better-first kind of way. I usually get back at the beginning of Junkiri primary school, which adjoins the house, just as the two other volunteers who come to teach during the day both arrive. As there are usually five of us, along with five Nepali teachers, and only 6 classes (Nursery through class five), I usually don’t teach for the first four periods. Instead I use that time taking that time to do small chores, my favorite being laundry and bathing in the little brook next to the house. I’ll admit, this can be really chilly, but the sun shines right down on the rocks, and the soap and the clothes are beneath your hands, and the water pours down onto your head, and at the end I always feel happy and calm.
I also use the morning to read or to set up my photo lessons, both planning the curriculum and reflecting on how previous classes went. The most time goes into uploading photos from the previous sessions and readying the cameras for new photographers, as 15 photographers are currently using 8 cameras at different times, and I expect the number of students to increase, given the number of requests I’ve had for lessons. Unfortunately, none of them will be as in-depth as the lessons I’m giving to classes 4 and 5, although two older girls who are very self-motivated are working on an alphabet exchange project that I hope to do with some students at Brunswick High. For the most part I think I will do some weekend workshops with people who are interested, showing them basic camera functions and doing a short project, most likely “Portraits” given the hard-to-beat fixation of these kids on taking hundreds of pictures of themselves and their friends, all of which are generally indistinguishable from each other.
After school is out, or on weekends/holidays, I usually spend some time just hanging out in the room with the other volunteers, talking over lessons and getting some time away from the kids, which is crucial given that we live with 60 of them all day, every day. Often I will walk down to the village, with or without other volunteers, and buy fruit for the next day, but only enough for 1-2 days because it's a good excuse for a walk. The apples here aren't as tasty as home, but i'm hoping to spice them up by buying peanut butter in kathmandu (it's not going to be the best peanut butter ever, but i'll probably appreciate it just as much). The oranges, however, are excellent, and the grapes in season right now are nice two, small, tart and sweet. In the evenings we help with homework/in the kitchen, or wait impatiently upstairs for dinner, which is served at varying times due to the electricity schedule- once we ate at 5:30, and sometimes at 8:30. I am learning patience. In the evenings i usually read, finish up projects or curriculum planning, and/or listen to music. Basically, i have more relaxing time here than i know what to do with, and sometimes more than i enjoy, but it's all a part of working and living in Sankhu.
One of the girls just brought me unasked for hot tea. Amazing. This is the best, most personalized, appreciated room service in the world. Let me tell you- I may appreciate a good piece of toast with avocadoes on it at home, but you appreciate so much more when you are far away and eat the same thing (rice and curry) twice a day, every day. It’s usually pretty tasty, but still. Hopefully I don’t give myself a stomach ache in Kathmandu, where I will be spending the weekend to send and upload PhotoPals pictures and have a little pampering- hot showers, my own room, and western food. While excited for the comforts of ‘home’ I’m still definitely happy here. Today is Shivaratri, a festival signaling the end of winter, and we will have a big bonfire and dancing until late in the night. (note: Kabita, an amazing girl here who feels like a kindred spirit just brought me MORE tea. I now have two steaming cups, and the second is Nepali milk tea. Score!) This is a good note on which to end this entry, which I am typing now to post tomorrow in the city. I am sipping my tea and looking at the light slant downwards with the setting of the sun.
Friday, February 5, 2010
returning to Sankhu, girl-talk, timelessness, happiness, awesome chores, and photography.
As the light began to slant downwards Monday evening I walked up the hill to the PA Nepal home in Sankhu, loaded down by a huge backpack (mostly camera equipment), a smaller frontal backpack (my books and computer), and my travel-size guitar (Her name is Sangita, the Nepali word for Song). I was greeeted by many hugs and hellos, and offers to take my bags and get me tea, an incredibly satisfying feeling after so many days of moving place to place. I settled into a mattressless bed in the volunteer room, which i currently share with Danny & Kristel, a friendly dutch couple who commandeered the mattress from the bed I chose. When they immediately tried to replace it, I explained that they had also commandeered the bedbugs, and I was quite happy to pad the plywood with an extra blanket instead, so now we are all quite snug (although they occaisionally have some itches).
My last few days in Kathmandu were quite nice- I met some interesting Austrailians, who seem rampant in Nepal as it is their summer break, and had a lot of great conversations and delicious meals. I was a little too tied down to the internet, a consequence of just leaving home, and free wireless, which luckily Sankhu has already weaned me of. I was right to be worried about the loadsharing in the village, today's schedule has no power from 9-3 and 5-10, leaving precious little usable time in the afternoon for uploading photographs or charging cameras. Luckily, as i have the schedule i don't think it will be too much of an issue, i just have to catch the right couple of hours to charge electronics. I alreay suspect uploading will best be achieved in Kathmandu every other weekend, using faster wireless and my own computer, all much more efficient.
I am very content here- I already feel like months have passed, although the days certainly don't go slowly. One of the best discoveries since re-arriving is the increasingly close relationship I have with the older girls, whose more developed english makes it possible to have girltalk, tell jokes and stories, and generally have an awesome time. One of my favorite aspects of Nepali culture is the communal nature of activities- cooking or other chores are not done alone but in groups, meaning they are much more fun. Instead of the 'put your head down and push through it' attitude I seem to have in the US, washing clothes by hand in the stream, or cutting up apples for lunch is always accompanied by others, and usually conversation and laughter. I have also been doing more 'manly' chores around the house, like painting the window moulding brown in the new kitchen-in-progress, and attempting to build a stone wall with another volunteer, which was of course re-arranged by Sagar Mama (the 'king' of the home) later. He tried to tell me how to paint for awhile, assuming i didn't know how, but after he saw the progress instead switched to talking to me in rapid Nepali about how I need to learn Nepali (case-in-point, eh, Sagar?).
The Photography classes are progressing well- I have held two so far in the extra-activity time that is the last period of the PA-Nepal run Primary school named Junkiri. For both classes I had classes 4+5 together, roughly 12 students, something which i will change next week so none of them will have to share cameras. The real quandery is this: many of the older kids who are out of grade 5 and in the government school or college want to learn. I worried about this before I came, knowing all of the kids would want to participate, and that there was no way to do it for all of them. I am hoping that I can give a less intensive class to the older kids, minus and exchange, on saturdays and just let them get used to the cameras. Another issue is that the kids in the program want prints of all thier pictures (this woul cost a small fortune), and other kids want prints of themselves taken by the photography studets- a tricky business. I'm just trying to be very clear and hoping for the best. I actually haven't even introduced the 'exchange' part of the program yet, as the first two classes were taken up by explaining about cameras, how photography translates to "light drawing", the shift from metal to film to digital, and then finally all the basic functions of a camera. It is a challenge when the language barrier is so great, and especially when technology like this is so special to them- as soon as they get thier cameras all they want to do is run around and take pictures of things, which is totally valid, i'd do the same in thier place, but it makes it hard to show them more. I'm excited about these challenges though, and about figuring out the solutions. Every kid is incredibly enthusiastic and eager to learn, and that is the best situation for a teacher to be in.
Anyhow, there's always more to say, but i'll leave it at that for fear that I could lose internet at any moment. i hope you're all well, i miss home, but i'm so happy to be where i am!
namaste.
My last few days in Kathmandu were quite nice- I met some interesting Austrailians, who seem rampant in Nepal as it is their summer break, and had a lot of great conversations and delicious meals. I was a little too tied down to the internet, a consequence of just leaving home, and free wireless, which luckily Sankhu has already weaned me of. I was right to be worried about the loadsharing in the village, today's schedule has no power from 9-3 and 5-10, leaving precious little usable time in the afternoon for uploading photographs or charging cameras. Luckily, as i have the schedule i don't think it will be too much of an issue, i just have to catch the right couple of hours to charge electronics. I alreay suspect uploading will best be achieved in Kathmandu every other weekend, using faster wireless and my own computer, all much more efficient.
I am very content here- I already feel like months have passed, although the days certainly don't go slowly. One of the best discoveries since re-arriving is the increasingly close relationship I have with the older girls, whose more developed english makes it possible to have girltalk, tell jokes and stories, and generally have an awesome time. One of my favorite aspects of Nepali culture is the communal nature of activities- cooking or other chores are not done alone but in groups, meaning they are much more fun. Instead of the 'put your head down and push through it' attitude I seem to have in the US, washing clothes by hand in the stream, or cutting up apples for lunch is always accompanied by others, and usually conversation and laughter. I have also been doing more 'manly' chores around the house, like painting the window moulding brown in the new kitchen-in-progress, and attempting to build a stone wall with another volunteer, which was of course re-arranged by Sagar Mama (the 'king' of the home) later. He tried to tell me how to paint for awhile, assuming i didn't know how, but after he saw the progress instead switched to talking to me in rapid Nepali about how I need to learn Nepali (case-in-point, eh, Sagar?).
The Photography classes are progressing well- I have held two so far in the extra-activity time that is the last period of the PA-Nepal run Primary school named Junkiri. For both classes I had classes 4+5 together, roughly 12 students, something which i will change next week so none of them will have to share cameras. The real quandery is this: many of the older kids who are out of grade 5 and in the government school or college want to learn. I worried about this before I came, knowing all of the kids would want to participate, and that there was no way to do it for all of them. I am hoping that I can give a less intensive class to the older kids, minus and exchange, on saturdays and just let them get used to the cameras. Another issue is that the kids in the program want prints of all thier pictures (this woul cost a small fortune), and other kids want prints of themselves taken by the photography studets- a tricky business. I'm just trying to be very clear and hoping for the best. I actually haven't even introduced the 'exchange' part of the program yet, as the first two classes were taken up by explaining about cameras, how photography translates to "light drawing", the shift from metal to film to digital, and then finally all the basic functions of a camera. It is a challenge when the language barrier is so great, and especially when technology like this is so special to them- as soon as they get thier cameras all they want to do is run around and take pictures of things, which is totally valid, i'd do the same in thier place, but it makes it hard to show them more. I'm excited about these challenges though, and about figuring out the solutions. Every kid is incredibly enthusiastic and eager to learn, and that is the best situation for a teacher to be in.
Anyhow, there's always more to say, but i'll leave it at that for fear that I could lose internet at any moment. i hope you're all well, i miss home, but i'm so happy to be where i am!
namaste.
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