....to India

I am thinking of my grandmother today as I prepare to travel to the south of India to meet my sister and my mother. We will meet in Kerala, near the water. This is where my sister spends her time in the Ashram. She has been there for a long time now.

I am thinking of Baba Dear especially today maybe, because the other day as I was walking in Asan – the shopping area where all the locals go in Kathmandu – and I noticed the fabrics, textures, and colors that would have also called to my grandmother. Even though she won’t paint any of them, I took pictures for her anyways.

Maybe, because the Christmas holiday is coming soon. The time when we would usually sit around and tell stories, comment on the abundance we are so lucky to have, the sustenance and joy of home cooked holiday food. And when we’d all try out a new game together. Baba Dear was always up for a good game.

Maybe, because I will be with my mother and sister together for the first time in almost two years. We, a continuation of my grandmother. A continuation of her story.

Maybe, because just before my sister left back to India for good, my grandmother’s health was getting worse and worse. And then she died a few months after that. I remember acutely the pain of one loss followed by the other.

This journey to visit my sister is like going home. My sister is home, and my mother is home. We plan to sing Christmas Carols to children in Kerala on Christmas evening. But, like Nepal, anything is possible in India.

It feels freeing to be away from the craziness of TV commercials, fake Santas, piped-in music, the pressures of too many parties and sweets.

And traveling towards remembering what I love most about Christmas and family: honoring the abundance that we have in our lives with simple gestures and intangible gifts. Enjoying stories, games, and bright colors that stand out from the darkness. Exploring the textures of life that are complex, soft, strong, intertwining, moving away, and then coming back together again.

From jungle to mountains and back

It's been a couple months of working and traveling for me...across the country, up and down the county, visiting tiny villages and the crazy, big city of Kathmandu.

I am back at home in Hetauda now for a few days before embarking on a new, but completely different journey. I'll be meeting up with my sister and mother in Kerala, India for Christmas. More on that later.

Right now I am happy to be feeling better after about 6 weeks of being sick. I got what travelers and tourists normally get in Nepal...bacteria attack on my body from something in the water, the food.

Turns out that when you have one of these bacteria things, you are miserable for a few days. Then you start to feel better again (and think, yeah!, I don't have to go to the doctor and take terrible antibiotics!). But, you only feel better for a day or so, and then it cycles back through again.

Okay - so maybe this wouldn't be your experience. But was mine. When I got sick again for what seemed the 10th time and I was near the doctor in KTM, I decided it was time to finally give in. Turns out that taking the 2 different types of antibiotics they gave me was a very wise decision. I am starting to feel good again and think this time it will last.

Above are pictures from the latest training our Leadership team facilitated at Nagarkot. We had folks from organizations working for social change withing the dalit, 3rd gender, people with disability, people living with HIV/AIDS communities.... It was a good group.

The Himalayan peaks were always the main entertainment during our tea breaks. We'd all go out to the porch in the cold and just stare and sigh collectively.

Ah....

Why I love training in Nepal

No training here is complete - or too successful - without lots of breaks for entertainment. This translates to: singing, dancing, poems and/or jokes.

At the beginning of a training only the more outgoing participants tend to volunteer for entertainment (for obvious reasons). By the end of a training, however, usually just about anyone will get up and present something. And at the very end, a good training often feels like a party. Singing, dancing, laughing.

People here know how to have a good time. They know that enjoying and celebrating is part of the work.

This short video was filmed on my recent trip to far Western Nepal, Dang. I led up a team of us who delivered training on "Gender, Leadership, and Micro Finance".
Most of the folks in the training were from the Tharu community, an indigenous group to Nepal. So, there were times when we did double translation. English to Nepali. Nepali to Tharu. Always an opportunity to think creatively here about how to make things really work in development work.

Enjoy...

Traditional meets Modern

Above: Lalita (on cell phone) and Lissim, who come from a small village in South Western Nepal.

In Nepal, especially, I constantly witness amazing intersections between traditional and the modern.

Just 10 years ago the goats and chickens in Lissim's village would be attacked regularly by tigers. Now, that particular threat is less probably due to influx of population in the area, as well as poaching. But coming into this village, in many ways (though not needing to be worried about the tigers), I feel like I could have stepped back hundreds of years earlier and things would have otherwise looked just the same way.

Lissim's house was actually built only 20 years ago, with wood, straw, mud, and cow dung. The hand washed laundry is hung to dry on a beautiful, hanging wooden pole. She cooks as her family has always - over a fire in the kitchen on the first floor.
A bit worried about the health risks associated with cooking this way (the smoke inhaled is hard on the lungs) and aware of the work involved with gathering firewood for every fire, I asked if they ever thought of having a gas stoves.

No, she replied. The rice cooked over fire is sweet. Rice cooked over anything else isn't as good.

Her "refrigerator" is a ceramic bowl, a vessel for the milk that comes from the cow she milks every morning. Rice is sifted by a hand-cranked fan that, when cranked hard enough, can separate the rice from it's hull.

Absolutely everything on her piece of land and in her house is organic, natural. Except for a very few items within the house that are immaculately taken care of. A comb, one small mirror, a picture on the wall of she and her brother (who is working in Dubai), and a computer. She proudly shows me video after video of traditional Tharu dances on her computer. I'm not sure that she uses the computer for much else. But her cousin seems quite adept on the computer and is often surfing the net.

While Lissim's house and surroundings are absolutely beautiful, life in the village is difficult. She works hard all day, every day, taking care of all the animals, cooking, planting rice and cultivating. And there is a severe lack of water in this village, which presents not only daily living task challenges, but also health risks.

So some, who have the opportunity (or through necessity), have picked up and moved to towns like where I live, Hetauda, which aren't quite city and aren't quite village, but somewhere in between.

My neighbors, who moved here recently still cook outside every morning and evening on an oven that they have built from mud as they did in their village. But now live in a concrete house with electricity and running water.

I was leaving home the other day to come to work and noticed that they had a new puppy. A black and white dog who was drinking water at the time. I had to fight the urge to go and play with the puppy since I was already late to work. For future reference, however, I wanted to know what the puppy's name was, so I asked.

The answer? Facebook.

Greeting the Sun

Yesterday my colleague told me as she was running out the door to an evening meeting that something interesting was happening at the river. I had no idea what it was, but have learned that if someone remembers to tell me to see something happening here, it is always really worth seeing.

So I headed down to the bridge. There were thousands of people gathered in something that felt a mixture of ritual and circus atmosphere. In an outer circle marked by makeshift rope and colored flags swarmed masses of people, vendors selling balloons and sweets, an occasional firecracker that I assume was left over from the last festival, Tihar. Hindu chanting music was piped in over a loud speaker.

Closer in towards the river women were gathered surrounding huge circles of their puja objects: fruits, flowers, incense, candles, and sweets. Praying. Many had their best saris on and large gold jewelry: one-piece ornate strings that linked their nose, ear, and forehead. Their children and husbands stood near by, others walking by and occasionally throwing in rice, sweets towards the center of the circle/altar.

The more well off families were placed side-by-side, one after the other, under a brightly-colored, festive-looking material covering. But there were even more people who were doing their puja (ritual) at the river bank, some in the river.

After everyone started to pack up after dark, I was told to return in the morning. These families would also be returning, would re-set up their circles, and pray and wait until the sun rose. Some stayed all night, I believe.

I was told that the ceremony is in honor of the sun...to welcome and honor the sun at the time when the weather is decidedly getting cooler and it is getting dark earlier and earlier.

So I woke up a 5:30 am this morning and headed back to the river, took off my shoes and socks and got into the water, and also waited to greet the sun.



4093, 4101, 4103

I'm staying in today

Photo above: A picture of a stranger taking an unannounced snapshot of me.

A few things that have come into clearer focus about myself during this last year in Nepal. One, change really can be difficult for me and I think I adjust slower to change than some. Second, I am a really sensitive person.

It's Tihar holiday here right now and, by all accounts, my favorite holiday that I've experienced so far in Nepal. It is the festival of lights. Of sweets, cleaning homes, welcoming the goddess Laxmi (goddess of wealth), joy, singing, dancing, honoring the dog, honoring the crow, honoring cows, honoring the connection between sisters and brothers, and of 7-colored tikkas.

My neighborhood which is normally quiet and deserted by 7:30 pm every evening has been alive with candles, constant singing, and fireworks every night the last 3 nights until at least midnight. Everyone seems to be participating and having fun - the children, the women...

This is the stuff I *love*. I've had more invitations than I could count to singing and dancing rounds, puja (rituals) in private homes, new year's celebrations, dinners, and people's village homes. But I haven't accepted any of them. Because honestly, I am still recovering from Deshain (the last holiday).

Many parts of Deshain were fabulous. I got a window into people's lives and communities that few people would ever get to see. But it was also in equal measure a bit traumatizing for me.

Every day I am horrified by the inequalities between women and men here. I put on my best analytical thinking skills and tell myself: it's a different culture and I can't compare. Change happens slowly - and positive change is happening here (which it is). But in my heart, I find the way that most women are treated here (by too many, but not all men), heart-wrenching.

And as I get to know Nepali women better, they share their own personal stories with me and confirm that yes - they feel that being a woman in Nepal is extremely, extremely difficult and too often, crippling.

Despite what I was hoping, I spent all of Deshain only with men, because women are only allowed to cook and clean. Men, however, are allowed to travel and visit whoever they want, and they can gamble and drink away the small amount of money that the family has. Often leaving not enough for their children's school clothes and books.

Now, I always do my best about stereotypes and the misconceptions and hurt that these can cause. There are many exceptions to this scenario. But it is the norm way too often, for way too many families, villages, and communities in Nepal.


I also thought that I could stomach animal slaughter better than it turns out I am able. Because - in theory - I think that it is really amazing to be able to be this close to the food that I eat. To catch the fish that is later on my plate. To see the chicken (happy, running free, well taken care of) right before it is killed. To eat a goat that has been truly loved and honored.

In the West I am so removed from the food I eat, and where it comes from. I usually have no idea how it was treated, what food it ate, how it was killed. And - on an intellectual level - I think it is really a gift to be able to witness the full process of an animal's life, which is then prepared as food that sustains me. I have the opportunity to thank the fish and the chicken for giving up their lives so I can eat and be healthy.

When the fish from my friend's pond showed up on the plate in the kitchen ready for preparation, though - still breathing in slowly, not quite dead - on the inside, I lost it.

I didn't show my horror and fear to my hosts. They were showing me a huge honor by sharing their fish and then later, by serving me the fish head (the part of the fish with the most vitamins).

But I was in absolute horror. I LOVE fish. I LOVE animals. This fish had just been swimming happily around in a nice lake surrounded by rice fields and warmed by the sun. Then it was stuck in a bucket, not quite dead, for too long. And now it was on my plate, given to a person who had been fed so much in the last 3 days she couldn't ever imagine feeling hungry again. I could see everything in it's head - the eyes, the gills...as it had just been chopped off and cooked with no other preparation- left for me to figure out how to eat.

I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. I wasn't even remotely hungry, and I felt too connected to the life of the fish. There was nothing I could do to convince myself that I needed to be respectful to my hosts in this particular moment, it just didn't matter to me all of the sudden.

So I did the only thing I could do. I put it on my friend, Casper's, plate when I was hoping no one was looking. He didn't want it either, but owed me a favor.

I don't know why this experience in particular was so traumatizing for me. It is multi-layered. For one, I was feeling really sad about watching the fish die when - in my opinion - it was completely unnecessary. But I think that I am equally exhausted sometimes by being the perennial guest-of-honor.

It sounds ungrateful to say this. The true generosity of people and what they are willing to share with me and do for me is something I have never experienced before in my life. I have been brought to tears by people's kindness and willingness to share of themselves in such a real, honest, and meaningful way many times. And for those who know me well, I don't cry very easily.

But I'm starting to not like eating meat as much (which is what you give guests), and often the amount of food I am given is more than I can ever eat. So I'm stuck with either a) eating and doing things I don't want to and lying and pretending that I am happy or b) appearing ungrateful and potentially offending my hosts. I almost always usually choose the former, trying to find the perfect time when I can say, without lying, "I LOVE the food, I just am full and can't eat any more now". But it doesn't always work out so easily in reality.

This Tihar holiday, I've decided to give myself a bit of a rest from being the foreigner and the guest. I am giving myself a rest from answering the same 5 questions from every person (no, I am not married and actually, I am very happy with my life just as it is), strangers constantly taking my picture everywhere I go (I know it is only curiosity, but sometimes I feel like a zoo animal), and from trying to eat too much food so that I can make my hosts happy.

I am watching all the singing and dancing in the neighborhood from my balcony, cup of tea with herbs from home, potatoes and eggs on the burner inside, music from my laptop keeping me company. And I am happy. Contemplating, recovering, resting up, preparing.

I can enjoy Tihar on the streets and villages next year....

Deshain:

Fishing, eating, more eating, hanging, motorbikes, friends.....







...ceremony, sacrifice, slaying bad spirits, temple visits and tikkas.

Tharu wedding ceremony

So, I'm in Dang right now and have just finished a 3 day training on Gender, Leadership, and Micro-finance for a grassroots community organization, NRMC, and 30 Tharu women from the villages they work with. It was fabulous, and I will share a short video from the training in a following post as soon as I am around a better internet connection.

In the meantime, I have pictures and stories from various trips during the last couple of weeks, and thought I'd start by sharing some pictures from a Tharu wedding that I attended.

Like many of my experiences here, this wedding came unannounced and unexpected - a last minute opportunity to have a window into a ceremony that is very different than the mainstream, upper-caste Hindu wedding tradition.

It was my last day at my friend, Rajesh's, village home which is a few hours from where I live. I was feeling a bit nervous about catching transport back home, as I was committed to heading to Chittwan National Park the next day, and everything comes to a near halt during the Deshain festival here. We weren't sure how easy it would be for me to find a way to get back.

As I was saying goodbye and thank you to the family and was about ready to head out, Rajesh's mother and sisters, who had been constantly working for 4 days: cooking, cleaning, cooking us more food, pleaded with me.

"But our neighbor is having a wedding, today. And they have invited you! They will be really sad if you don't come. Can't you come, please????? Even if it is just for an hour? We'll give you a sari to wear."

After everything they had done for me, there was absolutely no way I could say no. And an opportunity to see a wedding in a village that had - until just the last 50 years - had little contact with other groups and influences?

So, we rushed into my room and Sita put a sari on me quicker than I've ever seen anyone put on a sari. They are amazingly complicated. We then headed to the neighbor's wedding. Who I think might have also been a relative. Hard to tell. In Rajesh's village of 200 homes, he was related to maybe 30 or 40 of the households in one way or the other, it seemed.

Upon arrival, the groom was just finishing a ceremony where he walks around in a circle with a sword, symbolizing his commitment to protecting his wife and family.

Women in front of the house would occasionally burst into song - traditional Tharu wedding songs. Other women had gathered whatever they could from their fields and were sitting and chatting, chopping vegetables. The men had brought their animals and were behind the house slaughtering goats and chickens for the feast later in the day.

I was told that this was an inter-caste marriage (between two different indigenous groups). The groom is Tharu, the bride Gurung. The bride's family hadn't approved of the wedding, and no one from her family or village had attended.

I stayed only long enough to catch a glimpse of what was happening - and for people to take many pictures. They were both fascinated and proud to have a foreign guest appear. And not so happy when I said I couldn't stay all night and enjoy the big meal.

While sad that I couldn't witness the whole wedding process and participate in the festivities, I, however, had been fed continuously for the last 4 days, and at that point couldn't imagine ever eating food again.

We all left the wedding and walked back, quickly put my "regular" clothes back on, and I was whisked away by motorbike to the bus station where I was lucky enough to find something still heading to Hetauda.

Pictures above:

(1) Bride and Groom
(2) Women preparing food from their fields
(3) Men preparing the meat
(4) Bride
(5) Ceremonial sword and traditional ceramic pot - the Tharu "refrigerator"
(6) Me....in a sari
(7) My village family - getting ready to head to the wedding

In between

I am enjoying a full day in Hetauda today to catch up on laundry, water my plants, cook my own food, and to do some work in the office. Never has unpacking and cleaning felt so relaxing as this morning, it seems. A luxury to be in my own home.
Yesterday evening returned to Hetauda, and tomorrow morning will leave again for 10 days on the road.

This month, between traveling for work and enjoying the Deshain holiday, I will have been in Kathmandu for 9 days, my friends' village home for 4, Janakpur (home of famous Ram and Sita temple) for 1, Chittwan National Park for 3, Nepalgunj (far Western Nepal) for 2, and Dang district (also far Western Nepal) for 6 days. I am happily exhausted.

For now, just time for a quick post. Above are two of my favorite pictures from my trip to Souraha, Chittwan National Park. More later...

Today...

Today I woke up 6, did some yoga and laundry, and made myself tea.

Mornings are cooler these days. It hasn't rained for 3 days now. The monsoon season is over. I can hang my laundry out to dry now without worrying that I will have to wash it again tomorrow if there is too much rain.

Biked to the office and after checking my emails and getting caught up, noticed a lot of noise and laughter coming from the main room so I went to check out what was happening.

The staff are around the office these days, but, as it is the start of a new project, routines haven't been established yet. Without a plan, they self organized and one of the staff who is deaf was teaching everyone sign language. They were had a blast.

Received this text message on my phone from a fellow Canadian/French volunteer in Hetauda, Pierre:

Hi Tiffany, goats (khasi) are arriving today in Hetauda, “collectors” will have them for sale on the road toward Birgunj, 1 mile from the bridge, where the temporary gate way is, turn right, 1st street after it.

It is the beginning of Deshain - the biggest holiday here in Nepal. Their version of our Christmas. With all the excitement, fuss, stress, ceremony.

At the beginning of Deshain goats are slaughtered and then everyone eats meat for several days - a luxury not usually affforded.

I am too sensitive to animals to have wanted to see the hundreds of goats getting off-loaded from big trucks and sold for slaughter. Decided to stay in the office and work on a report, instead. But later, indeed, saw a woman with her two prized goats. Bringing them to market.

At least goats here are very well taken care of before they go off to slaughter. I would much rather be a goat in Nepal than a goat in the US.

Ate my khajaa (afternoon snack) at my usual spot. 21 cents for two freshly made roti (tortillas) and vegetable soup. Didi, what we call the woman who runs the shop, is feeling better these days. Last week she had been so sick that she had to close shop. I hadn't realized how accustomed to my routine I was until I had to find a new place to go for food.

After khajaa I booked seat number six in a public jeep that will take me to Kathmandu tomorrow. Seat number six is right behind the driver. Both the safest, it feels, and the most comfortable.

Had to bike to three different shops until I could find a place that had a recharge card for the sim card that I put in my modum that gives me access to internet.

Happened to pass the bakery along the way, so picked up some macaroons - the best cookies that I've found here in Hetauda.

As I was biking, thinking to myself, "remember to tell mom about the chaos of Nepal when she comes to visit. That there is no use in fighting the chaos. You just have to go with it, relax into it".

After work I visited a tent that is being raised to house mud-covered straw representations of gods that are being built for Deshain. Durga and her transport - the tiger. Ganesh - remover of obstacles. Laxmis - goddess of prosperity. Sawrasoti - goddess of education. Everyone will go to the tents on Friday for puja...and offereing for the beginning of Deshain.

I cooked vegetables and rice for dinner. This is perhaps my most common meal when I am cooking alone or with a friend at home. It's easy, simple, yummy, and healthy.

Then Elijah and I finished the evening watching an episode of LOST. Only 4 more episodes left until we have watched all of 5 seasons that my mom sent me in the mail last Christmas.

I can mark the year by the seasons of LOST I have watched. Not sure what will help mark after this...

For my friend, Hazel

To my litle-in-size-but-big-in-spirit friend Hazel,

Every night I see the most beautiful fireflies and I always think of you. I wish I could have you here to show you. I know you would love them.

They are these bugs that fly around and you can see them only at night. They have lights that flicker. I tried to take a picture of them, but it is really hard. I don't really know how they do it. I want to catch one, but don't, because I don't want to hurt them. And, I think they are very hard to catch. They float through the night air.

They remind me of spirits that are flying around telling us that - no matter what crazy things are happening in the world - there is always also magic to be found. And beautiful things. I know you would understand best out of all my friends.

I miss dancing with you, and I miss your beautiful pictures. But most of all, your imagination and your wisdom. I heard that you're going to a Japanse immersion school now. So cool!

I think of you all the time and send you a lot of love. When I return to home you will be bigger, and will have so many stories to tell me!

Your friend,

Tiffany

Nepal's Leaders

I have just returned to Hetauda from our leadership course in Pokhara - a fabulous experience. 3 days of training, 15 select participants, and an amazing view of the Himalayas.

We had a great group. Dynamic, engaged, passionate, and skilled organizational leaders. I was grateful for the chance to spend 3 days supporting those who are doing focused work here in Nepal...

We had packed the course really full, so there wasn't much "down" time. At the end, however, everyone gathered on the lawn at our hotel for some serious dancing and singing. Have I mentioned yet that singing and dancing is a part of *every* training that I have attended here in Nepal so far?

There were a lot of difficult topics that come up in the course, which is why I know it was good. Leadership - and the work we do - is never easy, or simple. It's really important to be around others who understand this, are grappling with this, are always learning and working to do better, and who - at the end of the day - can still have a good time and laugh.

~ sometimes there is no title ~

I am sharing this picture just for fun. I took this picture in a small village hamlet in a remote area in my district. A boy had taken his mother's suwral (shawl) and was running around and playing...

In a couple of days I leave for Pokhara to co-facilitate a training on Leadership for exective team and board members of local Nepali NGOs. I have also convinced my counterpart, Sushila ji, to come with me on the bus ride and to participate. She manages our current staff here in the district of 21 - and is a natural leader.

One of the great things about working on this workshop has been the opportunity to create it with four of my fellow VSO colleagues. Each of them has extensive experience in their field. Most, much more than me. So - I get to learn a ton from them, as well as adding in a few pieces that I feel passionate about: the value of emotions and emotional intelligence within the workplace and leadership, culture and the workplace, and the importance of staff development.

It's all an experiment. We will see how our ideas and plan translates within the Nepali context...I'm sure we'll learn as much as the participants.

In the meantime, I am attentive to the fact that the corn season is coming to an end. And the rice in the paddys has grown really tall now and is sprouting. I have no idea what comes next. I could ask someone, but am enjoying just learning the seasons and foods by waiting and watching.

I notice that my markers for time passing here is by watching the crops: planting, growing, harvesting, drying and packing...and noticing the seasonal changes. And have totally forgotten about school year calendars, reporting deadline markers, and the Western summer season.

Participatory Rural Analysis, Focus: Gender

These days I'm processing my field work experiences and thoughts from last month. Now that I've had time to rest, recover, think, and do loads of laundry.

I'll be writing up an official report of my experiences to submit to VSO Nepal that will be part of a document for policy advocacy at the government level and programming recommendations. My part will focus on gender in Nepal, in particular. And I have saved my more personal thoughts and experiences in a journal that I kept every day during the research.

Our focus: poverty. What does poverty really look like right now in the rural areas of Makwanpur? And specifically, for excluded women in this area?

Women could be considered excluded for a variety of reasons. In this project, by geography. Some villages are extremely remote. These communities don't have access to health services, education, or representation in local government. Invariably, however, geography seems connected with caste and ethnicity here. Usually it is the so-called higher caste communities that live closer to the main roads, and services. Indigenous groups, so-called lower caste communities live further away.

Our research was extremely thorough and participatory. We met with communities and had them give us information about who lives where, what services they have access to, the main community resources, and challenges.

We also had them define what poverty means. This is important to note - as poverty is extremely relative. In one community, there were people who didn't have toilets, but they considered themselves "middle class", because they live in a beautiful environment, have access to food all year long, and their children can easily attend school.

In another community, someone could live in a well built house and have all the amenities and food they need, but if they are comparing themselves to what they think it is to be well off from the television or stories they've heard, they consider themselves very poor.

One of the things that absolutely amazed me - coming from a culture where I only knew 3 of my neighbors really well- is that we could go to communities, sit with an individual or group, and get extremely detailed information for 50 to 100 of their neighbors. Number of people in the household, livelihood, access to electricity, water and toilets, levels of children in the house...

I got to know Hatiya, the area we our team was in, extremely well. Our team walked up into the jungle (i.e. forest) and met with small groups from the indigenous communities. We walked through rivers, and field and field and field of rice.

It is the rainy season, after all. Season of corn that has been harvested and is hanging from roofs. Season of rice shooting up as women bend over and plant, plant.

Several times women would grin at me, happy to see a visitor, and welcome me to come and work and plant with them. At those times, I wished our tasks weren't so overwhelming and I could have just worked along side them for a few hours. I've been told that planting rice is extremely difficult.

Also the season of, yes, storms. Usually we could just duck onto someone's porch for the hour or so that it rained so hard that it was hard to see the other side of the field. Once in our 15 days the rain didn't stop after an hour, and we realized that now we had to make a run for it.

When it rains that hard during the monsoon season, the rivers take over the roads and the buses stop running. So we ran through water up to my knees along a path way that had been dry 2 hours before. Made it to the bus, which - after strategizing for about 30 minutes - made a go for it and made it across the river. I'm not quite sure how, but I was certainly grateful to make it home for warm tea and a shower.

I drew up pictures of the maps that communities would make with local materials: rocks, leaves, sticks, dirt, was the team photographer, and hired a local youth to join our team and help with the health surveys.

I have a whole different sense and understanding of the work that we do in our organization now, and will find out this weekend how the management - using this information - to come up with the project goals for our upcoming 4 year project.

Dancing and Tea

I'm not going to lie. While beautiful and good - in so many ways - the last few weeks have also been really challenging and hard.

I heard that my grandmother (and last living grandparent) has been diagnosed with terminal cancer and likely only has a couple of more months to live. She - and my father - are some of the most positive and flexible people I know, however, and my only challenge is a personal challenge of not being able to be there - for myself - to witness the process, be a part of this process. It feels really hard right now to be in Nepal and to not be in the Northwest.

Being with my other grandmother, Baba Dear, as she died last year, was profound for me in many ways, and one of the experiences I feel most grateful for in my life so far.

In addition, there is no end in sight to being really busy at work, so I have shifted from waiting for down time to realizing I need to carve out time to take care of myself and to stay in touch with people. It all happened so quickly, that realizing this has come bit by bit and through a bit of shock (what? this busy? in Nepal?).

Then I got an eye infection (from either a bug bite or something in the water) and my mosquito bites have become infected. I have never experienced this before. Maybe something to do with the climate and humidity? I am only moaning at this point - eye infection has cleared up and I have good medicine for my bites.

Then my camera broke. When I took it to Kathmandu to get it fixed, not only did they not fix it, but they stole my memory card (and photos that were still on it). That was really frustrating...

Anyways, I am not really feeling very negative or in despair. Though I have enjoyed a couple of good breakdowns in the last couple of days with friends. A good cry at the right time with the right person (or alone) really does help a lot of things, I think.

While not being at home with my family as we come to terms with realizing my grandmother won't likely live much longer is just really, really hard....the rest of everything is really a welcome, though highly uncomfortable, loss of a feeling of any sense of real control.

I've always tried to maintain as much of an illusion of being in control as possible - mostly for myself. And can't even really try right now. It's humbling, transforming, and really good for me.

In the meantime, I have been having a ton of fun visiting with other volunteers, visiting village homes, dressing up in saris, dancing, and always making time to enjoy a good glass of tea.

Over the last couple of years I have come to realize that a glass of warm tea is the cure to just about anything in life. Definitely, every Nepali I have met must agree, from the extensive research that I've conducted so far. Lots revolves around drinking tea here... Even if for just 15 minutes of warmth, comfort, balance, joy, and everything in the world - just for a moment - feeling just right.

Above: pictures of me enjoying Teej - a multi-day Nepali holiday where women dress in red, dance, fast, pray, and then bathe in the river. And a picture of "amma" (mother) making tea for myself, two of my friends, and the rest of the family in her upstairs kitchen of a mud house in what must be one of the most beautiful places in the world, Palung, where I spent last weekend.

Photos by Akke Antje Hettama

Post from my friend, Helen

Sharing this from my friend, Helen. Please note that yes, traveling in Nepal sometimes means that you aren't near restrooms. But rest assured that cultural norms dictate that men and women go far from each other and - while out in the open - there is a certain sense of "privacy" between the sexes that is insured!

A weekend in Hetauda

September 10, 2010 by Hels

Last weekend I went to Hetauda to stay with my VSO friend Tiffany. Hetauda is small town about 5 hours south of Kathmandu, heading towards the Terai region of Nepal (the hot bit that borders India). As its not quite in the Terai, its lush hills and greenery make it a really beautiful place to be, and I felt like I was on holiday for the weekend!

As Tiffany was in Kathmandu for a meeting we travelled down together on the 7:30am Jeep on Saturday morning. Taking the jeep is about three hours quicker than taking a bus as it follows dirt tracks a lot of the way. With 13 people packed into a jeep, it’s no more or less comfortable than a bus, however it does make for a slightly more scary and bumpy ride, and is definitely not for the faint hearted. Taking public transport is not only a great way to see more of the scenery of Nepal but also gives a great insight into the culture. People live so openly here and as you pass through small towns you really get a brief insight into their daily lives.
We arrived in Hetauda around midday after one tea stop and one amusing toilet stop, in which we were forced to bare all in front of a fellow female passenger who did nothing to hide the fact that she was happily watching us relieve ourselves in a not so concealing bush!

A couple of hours later, after venturing into town to get some food for dinner, we found ourselves at a Teej party. Teej is a three day festival for women which involves singing, dancing, fasting and puja (praying). Women typically dress up in their best red saris, bangles and decorate their hands with mehendi and either pray for the good health and long lives of their husbands, or future husbands.
Not happy to just let us watch, they ushered us in, sat us down, gave us food and much to my dismay, pretty much forced us to dance. Fortunately Tiffany is a fantastic dancer so this took the attention away from my awkward attempt and no one noticed when I slunk back to my chair to watch from the side lines!

On Sunday we headed back into town to buy some material – Tiffany wanted to buy a sari for another Teej party (for this weekend) and I decided to finally get myself a kurta surwal. Apart from the sari (mostly worn by older women), this is the traditional dress for Nepali women and is still worn across Nepal by the majority of women, with only the younger generation opting for western clothes. It is basically brightly coloured cotton baggy trousers worn under a matching or coordinating long top and scarf. It is currently at the tailors being made to fit but I will let you know how it turns out. I’m sure I will feel a bit silly wearing it, mainly as I’m not used to wearing such bright colours but, when in Rome…

I left Hetauda at 6am on Monday morning to make it back to Kathmandu for a meeting. The journey back was great and I spent much of the four hours marveling at the stunning scenery.

I am pretty busy this week preparing for the upcoming international youth exchange. 7 young people from a London based youth organization are coming to Nepal for 10 days. I first initiated this back in February and I can’t quite believe it is actually happening! You can find out more about this group and their visit by reading their blog – http://lic-youthexchange.blogspot.com

Busy yet?

One of the biggest complaints from volunteers who come to Nepal, highly qualified people who have temporarily given up their hectic lifestyles in the West or the Philippines or Africa, is that they come here and don't do anything.

Sometimes people in the organizations they are working with also aren't doing anything. Teachers have been known to leave the classroom and to go shopping for the day here, leaving the students in the classroom to fend for themselves. Others in NGOs can read newspapers for hours on end without beginning work. And it could seem, at times, there are more holidays and strikes than days in the office.

Sometimes volunteers work in organizations who are busy and doing a lot, but they can't quite figure out how to work together. There are certainly lots of people working incredibly hard here, as well. (Especially in the fields, but this is for another post).

I was sitting around so much at the beginning of my placement that I used all my creative energy to find ways to do things and to entertain myself. Which included finding a second NGO to volunteer with in the evenings and weekends. I did whatever I could to feel productive in the office: cleaning, listening, visiting people's workshops.. Reading and research. Connecting with fellow volunteers to see what was working for them. Trying various ways to let my colleagues know that really, I could be helpful if they would just let me in on the decision making processes.

After six months of this in my placement, I started to get worried. I am someone who has no trouble making myself busy usually. So this was an unusual circumstance for me to be working *this* hard to find things to do. And uncomfortable. It also went against my whole idea of the purpose of volunteering: to act, to think, to help create.....here in Nepal. If I'm not needed in Nepal (and there is an argument for this perhaps - to come in another post), then I should go back home, right?

Turns out I needn't have been so worried. I am so busy these days all of the sudden that I can't remember what it was like to have time for yoga in the mornings, to plan dinner while in the office, to write big, long emails to friends.

If I wasn't so exhausted right now, I would have the energy to be excited about this.

But after 6 days of training followed by 17 days of research in villages straight to meetings, meetings, and more meetings in Kathmandu....I am signing myself up for a massage tomorrow.

There is this place I know that hires and trains Dalit women in massage. The Dalit caste is traditionally considered the "untouchable" caste. Some Nepalis I know still refuse to eat at the same table as someone who is Dalit - not so rare, in fact. Untouchable, because if you touch a Dalit, you are then also considered "polluted" and then have to go through extensive purification.

Tomorrow's plan, then, social activism and massage in one fell sweep: yes!!!

I thought I could get away with my first full day off from work. I've been holding this day sacred for myself - mentally, at least - for the last couple of weeks. But alas, turns out there is a concept paper due tomorrow evening, and I was pleaded with to come into the office and help in the afternoon. Bargaining chip: extra day off on Monday. I'll believe it when I see it!

Now, I'm not complaining about all this work. This is GOOD you see. And there are so many volunteers who are very jealous of how much my organization is engaging me. I am lucky. I know I am really lucky. Really. But...I am now striving for a bit more balance between the two extremes.

Turns out that working in villages for 17 days is really, really tough work that I am still, apparently, recovering from. My eye infection is almost gone, and my energy is starting to come back again. I lost several pounds which I have gained right back now that I am in Kathmandu and around brownies and banana pancakes and lattes again.

The trash in Kathmandu is piled high - the garbage companies are on strike again. Not coincidentally, I think, almost everyone I know is sick. Fevers, bronchial coughs...not good stuff. While this doesn't fit into the I've-been-working-too-much category, it is mentally taxing to experience. It takes a fair amount of energy to a) sidestep the trash and b) mentally tune it out at the same time as much as possible.

Would I change any of it? No. Being in the field and all this work I'm engaged in is fabulous. I am learning a lot. It's pushing my comfort zones in many ways, and I'm experiencing things that travelers coming through Nepal could never experience.


Once I get a chance first to relax.....I will post some stories and thoughts from my fieldwork and time in the villages near Hetauda.

For now, I have a banana pancake on the way....

From the field

Came home today to do some planning work for a leadership training and to start writing two grants - work I can only do at a computer. And to also have a short break from all the walking and the heat in the middle of our field work. I head back out to Hatiya VDC (Village Development Community) tomorrow, however...

A couple of pictures to share (above).

And a couple of words that sum up a bit of the experience:

Corn. Everywhere.

Rice paddies. Everywhere.

Fresh guava.

Rain storms at any time. Hide under your backpack -or on whoever's front porch you happen to be near when the rain comes. There is a strong possibility that - not only will they share their porch and home and water with you - but also tea, snacks. And will offer a meal and a place to stay for the night if you need one.

People working. Hard. So hard that they really don't have more than a couple of moments to share with us. Everyone. This is the season to plant, plow, grow, prepare...

Our work is not easy. Lots of walking. The sun is hot. Our workload is high and time is short.

But the people I am getting to meet, what I am learning, the amazing land and views, the opportunity to be outside all day instead of in the office....I couldn't be happier.

More when I return for good.

New Project!

These days I am very happily busy participating in the starting up of a big, new program here in our district. The project title is, “Empowerment of Excluded Rural Women in Nepal”. A five year program with impressive and comprehensive goals such as (1) increasing the women in local government from 5% to 33%, (2) decreasing infant mortality rates and access to health care in general (3) insuring girls in rural areas have consistent access to education, and (4) increasing the income generation ability of rural women.

Yesterday I facilitated a workshop on gender that sparked much interest and discussion amongst the staff. They haven’t received any training like this in the past – gender roles in more rural areas are largely not contested - and are hugely curious to learn more.

Today and tomorrow staff are learning about how to conduct baseline surveys in the community. Then, we head in groups “to the field” for 15 days to implement the actual survey. This means that there will be groups of 4 of us (inclusive of at least one community health worker and one woman minimum) who will go into areas that are quite remote, and new to COSAN’s working area.

Staff will draw maps of villages (54 maps total): every road, house, temple, public building. Then will conduct surveys on resources (and lack of resources) in communities, individual and group interviews, and very comprehensive health questionnaires.

I have been asked to lead one of the teams. While I feel excited to be involved and very comfortable with what we have to do and how to lead the team, I am a bit overwhelmed by the language barrier I face still. I have been promised at least one person on my team who speaks really good English to help translate when necessary, however. Tomorrow I will remind my counterpart that I also need boiled water and hopefully a place to sleep without too many mice. My first village stay during my in-country-training program left me a bit scared about mice in village homes….and I really do need to sleep *some* in 15 days…

So, I likely will be off-line for a bit. But surely will have some interesting stories to share when I return.

First photos

Above are pictures taken by a group of girls at CWN (Child Welfare Nepal). Their very first time using a camera...