Simple Happenings in Life:

1.       Last night we were finishing up our dinner of daalbhaat (rice, lentils, and saag—it’s like spinach with a spicy flavor) when our saani naani (the younger of the two babygirls) had to poop… or started to poop.  My bhaauju (sister-in-law) grabbed saani and ran outside.  A couple moments later she comes back in and we can see saani standing at the door with her pants down.

“Did she poop?” we ask.

“She did but she has to go again and I’m scared,” bhaauju replies.

“Scared of what?” we ask.

“Outside. It’s dark outside and I’m scared so I need this light because it’s brighter. I’ll leave this other light here,” she replies.

“You’re scared?!” my mom says and starts laughing. “Samikshya (that’s me) always goes out to the toilet at like 12 or 1 am and she’s not scared, right?” as she turns to me.

“Yup…” I say, thinking, “Actually…. I never usually go out to the toilet at that time, I just pee in a bucket in my room (TMI).”

“Whatever, I’m scared and I’m taking this light,” says my bhaauju and she leaves for the toilet.

                Some footnotes for this convo:

-          The electricity was out, so the lights I’m referring to are rechargeable electric lamps.

-          Our bathroom, or squat-toilette, is behind the house; a separate entity if you couldn’t guess.

-          My nepali name is Samikshya.

I just thought this was funny so I wanted to share.

2.       After dinner, I went upstairs to my host-parents’ bedroom and sat around with them.  The electricity was still out, so I read a book by my battery-powered lantern while saani was scribbling on a notebook with a brown marker I gave to my aama (mom) earlier that week.  Saani and my bhaauju left for bed and I stuck around to finish the chapter I was on.  I looked over and saw my aama writing in Nepali, or trying to (I’ve never asked her if she was literate or not). Then I realized, I don’t know my aama’s name.  I know everyone’s name in this household because they have phones or I’ve needed their information in the past for whatever reason, but I’ve never needed to know my aama’s name. I just call her aama. So, I asked her, “Aama, what’s your name?”  She smiles and my baa (dad) replies, “Pabii Bhandari”.  I smiled. I continued to read my book when I looked over at my aama again and saw she was trying to write her name on the notebook. When my baa noticed what she was doing he stepped in and began teaching her how to write her name in Nepali script.  He gave her all these shortcuts and tried to simplify how to write it, but I think it confused her.  She turned to me and said, “I think I’ll stick to cutting the grass and feeding the goats. It’s easier than this, isn’t it Samikshya?”  I laughed.  My aama is 63 years old.  It brought a smile to my face to see my aama bent over the notebook, writing the same letters over and over again as I left the room for bed. 

the art of warmth and light

1/18/15

(I think I pulled my butt muscles…)

As I’m re-living another winter in Dang, Nepal, I've been able to make many of the preparations and precautions I failed to make last year to avoid another trying cold season (such as double blanketing, taking showers during the noon-afternoon hours, wearing layers, fuzzy socks, etc.).

Currently, if you’ve noticed I’ve been posting many blog posts, it’s because I don’t have much work to do because of political “bandhs”, which shut down the government schools, vehicular traffic on highways and roads, and many businesses too as they must close due to these circumstances. I am also waiting for my grant money to hit the bank so that I can begin my 6 month project to create a community library and an advanced sewing training targeting socially disadvantaged women.

Anyways, what I came here to tell you all are the simple joys of village life during the winter while I have nothing to do:

-          -Sitting by the fire, warming my hands and feet after the tarkari (veggies) is done cooking

-          -Doodling/being artsy by candlelight at night when there’s no power

-          -The feeling of a warm cup of cheeya (tea) in my hands and on my lap

-          -Cuddling under the warmth of two blankets at night to fight the night’s cold

Although I miss all the fun and luxury I could be taking part in back in the States, it’s been a joy to be able to live this slower-paced lifestyle without many worries (or perhaps a different set of worries).  And although I can start a fire back at home and enjoy it’s warmth, maybe it’s a new feeling to sit by the fire here and not have thoughts in the back of my head about finals, bills, or any of those other stressors.

Namaste,

Bora

a bike and a book

1/17/15

Today is Saturday, meaning it’s the one day in the week where stores are closed and people stay home and rest.  It’s the official one day weekend of the work week.  Earlier in 2014, I had a most rewarding experience biking around my VDC (village development committee, which is sort of similar to a county back in the States), finding shady areas under trees, and reading a book.  If I had completed my “day’s work” or had the whole day free to myself, I could bike for an hour or two and stop at about four different shady areas on my way circling back home.  Today I decided to indulge in such an adventure again.  I rode my bike to Ward number 2 in my VDC, an approximate 1 hour walk away but around 30 minutes on a bike, and stopped by a mother’s group meeting.  I shared with them some cookies that were sent to me from Cali (Thank you annamay!!! The mamas say thank you too! They loved ‘em.), talked about the basic how-to’s of mushroom farming, and after about an hour of “chalphal garnuing” I rode away.  I took a road I didn’t recognize but after a short 10 minutes on my bike I ended up at a familiar school; a well-known geographic landmark in my mind.  I found a large tree where I parked my bike and laid upon its roots as I read my latest book.  After an hour or so, I got up and rode back towards my village, an approximate 30-40 minute bike ride away. I pasted the standard scenery of goats, sheep, cattle, pigs, ducks, an angry turkey, and crossed many rivers and rivulets where families were found washing dishes, clothes, and/or themselves. 

In the words of Ice Cube, today was a good day.

-Bora

Pockets aren’t for coins, they’re for popcorn!

I still can’t get over the fact that it’s 2015, but it’s typically a difficult change for me to comprehend during the month of January. I’ll probably be used to it come February.

There were many highlights in my day today.  I’ll begin by indulging in two of them.

1.         1. After spending some time at my village health post lazing under the sun in our bright blue plastic chairs, I walked with one of the health post worker’s to her home across the river, about a 10 minute walk away.  She invited me over for tea and popcorn in return for a gift I brought her from my last trip to Kathmandu (she had been raving about my water bottle the previous month and I caught the hint). I sat on her bed while she began cooking the popcorn on her stove top.  This one room is her kitchen, dining room, living room, and bedroom all in one (and no, it’s not a big room).  A few minutes later a man walks up to the door with a small, metal jug with enough milk to fill about three cups of tea. He pours the milk in her personal-size, wok-like pot and in return she fills a bowl with popcorn and hands it to the man (who she refers to as bhinaaju, meaning elder sister’s husband). Rather than taking the bowl with him, he begins grabbing handfuls of popcorn and shoving it into his pant pocket. He cleans out the bowl, places it on the ground, and walks away. It’s quite common to see kids eating popcorn that’s been stuffed into their pockets, but this observation was new to me as it was a much older man, probably in his 40-50’s. I don’t exactly remember what my initial reaction was to the observation, but perhaps it was something in between sympathy and compassion and the thought of how frickin’ cool that was.  I loved the contrast of the fact that pockets back home are usually used for I-phones, credit cards, chapstick, or cash, but in this pocket of the world they are most useful for much simpler and essential things, like popcorn.

2.      2.  Later in the evening, I was sitting on the balcony area of my home with everyone in my host-family: aama, bubaa, my two naaniharu and my two bhaaujuharu (respectively, mom, dad, two baby girls and two sister-in-laws).  Nighttime had arrived, and we were huddled around a small fire where my aama was cooking sel roti (deep-fried rice dough in the shape of a circle) for the upcoming Nepali holiday known as maagi.  I was sitting, reading a book when I took a break to look up to see both my bhaaujuharu breastfeeding and talking to their respective naani next to me.  Both my bhaaujuharu (sister-in-laws) are my same exact age, 24, and this thought made me chuckle to myself to see both of them breastfeeding and me babying my latest novel.  Observing myself in this context, I thought, “I am soo American”. 

Lots of other interesting stuff happened today, but I won’t bother you all with that excessive information! Muchos kisses to my ladies out there working hard for the money.

Always,

Bora 

Are we out of the woods yet?

It’s 4:00pm and I’m currently sitting in my room surrounded by my stuff scattered around my room.  I’ve just returned from a stay-cation in Nepal where I celebrated the New Year in Pokhara followed by a dental appointment in the capital, Kathmandu, thus I’ve been gone from site for a good, little while.  I realize at this moment in my life I often have many, MANY thoughts running through my head, as this is not the first time I’ve been surrounded by tons of things I have to get done but decide to drop everything and write a blog post.  It’s always a whirlwind going away to see life outside of village, then to come back.  I wanted to write a to-do list of everything I want to get done this next and month, but then I realized I quite often do that. So I thought, perhaps I shouldn’t make a to-do list, but just… DO.  I’m happy to say I didn’t come back to site empty handed, as I brought a bundle-full of workbooks and books written in the Nepali language, 3 new novels to read for myself, GRE study books (in case that needs to happen again), and 22 soccer/futbol jerseys.  The Nepali workbooks will be placed in a new community library I am helping to kick start with a local Nepali counterpart and the soccer/futbol jerseys will be donated to the public school in my village along with four soccer balls. With the help of the school staff, I’m looking forward to working on establishing a soccer/futbol team as an organized recreational option for the students.

And the books I brought back for myself are… Blink by Malcolm Gladwell, Arresting God in Kathmandu by Samrat Upadhyay, and I Am Malala by Malala Yousafzai. I have a large book list after that, but one (or three) book(s) at a time.

PS- I still have Shantaram waiting for me to finish. I’ll get to it soon Reynold!!! J

Onward to 2015.