Dancing in the kitchen...

Yesterday I went to my neighbor's wedding. I was invited by the family of the bride.

The day started out at early in the morning at the temple, with the main rituals and ceremony. Folks then took a break for a meal together in the early afternoon, before heading back to the temple for more ceremony and ritual.

The bride then went back to her home where she was given a tearful send off by her family (complete with singing). Around early evening she goes to her new home with her husband, and is now officially part of his family.

Evening brought the neighbor girls over to my apartment for a visit. We ended up dancing in the kitchen for hours until it got dark.

Here's some of the dancing fun. Pictures from the wedding to follow.

Water

Women gathering water from a nicely-built up spout in Patan (one of the more beautiful parts of Kathmandu). Some women, especially in villages, walk 2 to 3 hours a day and then wait in line for an hour or two for water each day. They then carry everything they need: for cooking, bathing, laundry.

Part of the work that we are doing through COSAN is getting water access closer to women's homes. This then eases their work load, and ultimately allows for more time and freedom.

Back Home

(Above): Swastika, my downstairs neighbor, practicing the alphabet on my kitchen table.

I’m back home in Hetauda after a fabulous few weeks in Kathmandu of conferences, meetings, language training, work in our head office, apple pie (mmmm….), talent shows (I won!), afternoon drinks (chang) with a Buddhist monk, bookstores (oh, how I love them), soul-sustaining meals cooked by my friend, Wanet, and time to catch up on all the newest stories from my team of volunteers.

I think I didn’t realize how much I needed to connect with people who do similar work and who speak English. I was embarrassingly giddy when I first arrived and
saw all my friends again.

I am so happy to be back in Hetauda, however. It feels like home now.

It helps that I have started to build good relationships here. People who I see out and about shopping or at the internet café noticed that they hadn’t seen me in awhile and started calling to ask where I was and when I would be back. And it helps that my dhera now is lived in and feels like my personal sanctuary.

Funny, some of the things I thought would be challenges here for me haven’t been at all: having enough money to live off of, being comfortable in my home, having opportunities to be invited into people’s lives and homes.

It is hot in Hetauda, however, and today I am struggling with the heat. It seems as if there is no reprieve. When I come home and can finally take a shower to wash off all the sweat, the water that comes out is warmer than my body temperature. It has been baking in the sun all day on top of my roof.

And I am reminded of the energy it takes to – as politely as possible – ward off all the stares here and the children’s gasps of tourist!!! bedeshi (foreigner) !!! American!!!! wherever I go.

Somehow I can’t imagine being anywhere else right now, however.

Take today, for instance:

I started off the day at my fellow volunteer, Elijah’s, place here in Hetauda watching coverage of the World Cup, as I don’t have a TV in my dhera. I’m not a soccer fan, but I have been swept up in the excitement of the World Cup taking place in South Africa. Upon much prompting to pick my favorite team, I have officially decided to support the Ivory Coast. Their soccer players have used their fame to bring some peace and reconciliation to a war torn country. That’s my kind of team.

I decided I’d leave the rest of the 62 games to Elijah to watch and just update me on, though, and headed home to take a nap, since it felt definitely too hot to clean or do any work (right??).

My coworker called me in the middle of my nap to tell me that they were having an event at our office today (what? No one told me about this ??!??…. It’s a Saturday – the one day of rest here!) and that he really hoped I could pop on over.

Luckily, I have been training myself to be flexible here in Nepal (out of sheer necessity), and found it (mostly) easy to say yes, get up, get dressed in work clothes, get on my bike, and to head to the office.

Turns out they had gathered a sizeable group of students with disabilities and their families and were giving out much needed school supplies, clothing, and assistive devices.

The event was done Nepali style. Instead of just handing the supplies out, my coworkers wisely made this into an event with a purpose. Everyone introduced themselves, there was a long and beautiful speech (so many Nepalis are gifted orators) and then they asked me to ceremoniously hand out the first set of books, backpacks, shoes, and clothes.

The first student then handed a similar package to the second student, the second to the third. It was a metaphor for receiving an opportunity and then passing along this opportunity to others, so that they can also benefit.

What a fabulous idea, I thought. This way the students are not being given a handout from some donor they then start to believe they are dependent upon. They are being given something to support them in their efforts towards learning, and are then asked to pass along this learning and support to others.

Turns out I was needed to give the opening speech. I have realized that just by my presence – a white foreigner (they perceive me as a person with power) – I often give credibility to the work that my organization is doing, a cause, or to an event. I am getting good at giving these impromptu speeches now – the request can come at any time, I’ve learned. Today I used the welcoming speech as my opportunity to put in a word or two about equal access to education, and the importance of fighting for this access.

I am now at home drinking Nepali chiyaa and watching a buffalo with smooth skin and chiseled muscles that has stopped at my neighbor’s front yard to eat some grass, and the tall corn that is growing all around me. I watched women planting the seeds just a month or two ago. Now the corn stalks are tall, lush green, providing a forest for the fireflies flitting about in the dusk.

Lightning has just lit up the sky. It heralds the beginning of the monsoon season here. And a bit of relief from the hot sun.

Off I go to close all my windows and doors before the heavy winds and rain enter…

Images from Patan Durbar Square

I am in Kathmandu right now, getting ready to head back to Hetauda soon after a couple weeks of conferences, a language refresher course, and working in our head office.

As part of our language course we took a trip to Patan Durbar Square, a concentration of Nepali (Newari) arts and culture. Above are some images from the tour...

Work Trip to Western Nepal

A couple of weeks ago I traveled 12 hours by bus to one of our offices in Western Nepal. The bus ride there was pretty difficult. The seat in front of me hit my knees, one food break, and temperatures around 105 degrees. At least the bus was vibrant, however, with its Bollywood music, ornate ceiling work, brilliant colors and carousel-style poles that reminded me of the circus, beautiful tin handiwork around the edges of the inside and an altar on the dashboard with bright, flashing lights and burning incense.

Our office in Dang district is run by folks from the Tharu community - the indigenous group from the area. The Tharu have lived in the jungles of southern Nepal for thousands of years. In fact, they have lived in the jungles so long that their DNA developed a resistance to malaria.

When the West came in and sprayed DDT everywhere (to get rid of the Malaria mosquitoes), however, the land then was taken away from the Tharu by people who would have before never been safe entering. For a long time the Tharu were forced to work as indentured servants for the upper castes, but recently have been freed by the government.

My colleagues invited me to stay in the village with them, as the volunteers and board members of the organization they are starting up could then easily come over for meetings over tea or meals.

I stayed with Lissim(above, to the right of me) and two other women in one of the most beautiful houses I've seen in Nepal. It was simple: bricks and mud, two stories, rounded edges, small and large alcoves, wood fire kitchen, store rooms for beans, vegetables and rice, and a well out back for water. The structure of the house keeps it cool in the summer and warm in the winter.

Lissim told me she doesn't like her house, however, and wouldn't believe me when I told her that people back home only dream about houses as artistically and beautifully crafted as this.

I visited 5 women's groups in villages around the area and - along with our staff - and talked with them about their needs. In all 5 communities their answers were the same: first and most important need: access to water. Second: a community space for women to meet. Third, some way to generate income. I would guess that these women have to find a way to live off of much less than a dollar a day.

I will go back to Dang in September and will, along with our staff at the district level, co-create and co-facilitate leadership and advocacy trainings that we will provide in the villages. The hope is that we can create something that - after I leave- the staff can facilitate on their own. I will also be looking for funding for programs that might benefit these communities.

While I am not looking forward to the bus ride back to Dang in September, it seems a small price to pay for the opportunity to visit my new friends there - Salikram ji and Lissim ji and the rest of their organization. I can't wait to return.