Adventures in Nepal

... at Boudha ....

2012-02-05T19:01:00.004+05:30

Trip to the border and first goodbyes

2012-02-04T16:03:00.008+05:30

Last week I spent some time in Hetauda, Makwanpur (where I lived and worked for over a year) and Birgunj, Parsa.

It's hard to believe I'm leaving Nepal in a month.

Realizing I'm visiting a place or person for the last time (this time around, at least)and saying goodbyes is....awfully difficult.

It's hard to put any words to the gratitude I have for those people here who have shared their lives, experiences, wisdom, home, and friendship with me.

In Hetauda, among many others, these people include: Saroj, Chanda, Teresa, Diksha and her family, Smarika and her family, Saroj, Krishna, Sushant,Sita, Anju, Dudumaya, Uttam, Nawaraj, Raju, Shukra, Sushila, Anu, Jose, Prenam, all the girls at "the kendra", Maya, Kumari, Bishnu Om Shanti, Urmila, Basudev, Madan, Sanu, Ravi, Hari, Chiringibi, Laxmi, Bikram, Bishn, Ashmita, Lokhari, Pierre, Shyam, Sarada, Tulasa, Balaram, Tej and all the women in our project areas, especially, who welcomed me into their homes and their communities.

Above:

(1) Shreela is in Nepal...I'm in India!!
(2) Visiting my friend, Dudumaya, at her Bastipur home
(3) Sushila and her family
(4) COSAN Hetauda team

Images from my way to work

2012-01-25T14:34:00.005+05:30

Today's another strike. 13 student unions came together and shut down the valley shops and traffic in protest of fuel hikes.

So I had the opportunity to walk to work today. I get to walk through a world heritage site (Durbar Square) on my way....

Here are some images from the walk:

(1) holy men hanging out
(2) this is how we buy and sell vegetables in Nepal
(3) pigeons at the palace
(4) even though it's a strike, life must go on
(5) Bhairab temple in Durbar Square
(6) Kantipath street...with foot and bike traffic only

Tharu New Year Celebration

2012-01-21T16:51:00.002+05:30

Sometimes we catch someone looking at us....and wonder exactly what it is that they see.

Namaste

2012-01-03T16:25:00.000+05:30

I walked to work the other day in (almost) complete silence, as there was a day long nationwide strike. No motorbikes honking and sometimes touching me as they brush past. No cars and tempos and busses jammed up against each other, crazily stopping and starting, weaving in and out from under one another. No exhaust fumes. No dust kicked up from the traffic.

Just people. Walking, selling vegetables, bartering, visiting the temples, and standing by burning tires and blockades in the middle of the road telling stories to one another.

As I walked through the old bazaar area of town, the old Newar trade area, winding through narrow alleyways flanked by temples every block or so, I felt like I could have been walking ... seeing the same exact thing.... 500 years ago.

A group of perhaps 15 young Nepali men marched by me with flags at one point. I had to quickly look to make sure they were peaceful. Otherwise, I’ve learned to just quietly and quickly step out of the way.

They took no notice of me at all. An older man had also been watching them, I saw. Not for his safety, but because of their flag. As I approached him, I watched him react, a quick flash of anger crossing his face, as he bent down to pick up a brick.

My intuition told me I was completely fine, so when he raised the brick...almost as if wondering exactly what to do with it...and he looked my way....I quickly smiled at him. It was my first impulse. And something I’ve learned in my time here. In the face of potential conflict...smile.

What then transpired was the most quick and clear transition from anger to palpable calm and peace I have ever witnessed. Once he noticed me and my nervous smile, he immediately looked me in the eye, set down the brick, gracefully put his hands together in a prayer position, and smiled the hugest smile I’ve seen in a long time.

The movements were almost like a compact dance routine, a whole story of a nation poised between conflict and peace, looking forward and back at the same time. It all took place within a 10 second time period.

I smiled back at him, put my hands together in Namaste, and kept walking to work.

Breaking speed

2011-11-28T15:32:00.004+05:30

Yesterday I walked up a path I've walked so many times to my friends' place in a village area outside of Hetauda. He's built a home and there are 12 girls living there - who otherwise would have been at risk of being trafficked to India.

Instead, they are living and working together, studying, planting rice and cooking, creating and maintaining a beautiful, peaceful home. I so enjoy visiting them whenever I have the opportunity.

After being a guest in a country where it is considered an honor both to be a guest, as well as to provide comforts to your guest, I have to say that it's a nice change of pace to visit a home where they're willing to put me straight to work.

The girls were drying rice in the day sun, rice that had just been harvested from the field. We pulled up our pant legs, sifting huge piles of rice with our feet. Spreading it into thin layers on the ground. It was easy work, physical, tangible, satisfying, joyful.

They then put me to work weeding the vegetable garden. My hands in the dirt, I looked at the young women around me. Everyone pitching in. Silence balanced with laughter. Broken occasionally by song. We would work until we needed a break. Then sit on the wall, entertaining those crouched down. Until we returned to the dirt.

Our movements slow...this is not work that can be sped through. But with so many people, it goes quickly. And easily.

There are so many from the West in Nepal who are trying to change the speed here. Trying to impose their ways of doing things. Trying to make people think in a different way. Trying to propose that their development is "the" development.

But just as much as speed, humans need stillness and slowness. Just as much as the individual, we need the group. Just as much as noise, we need silence. Without one, how can we have the other?

Without the East, how can we have the West?

And why do we try so desperately to change the other....to be convinced that we are right?

Maybe there is a place for work that isn't organized. Where people come and go as they are able. And break out into song. Work that is intentional and human...and not "outcome" oriented. But that is present to the world around.

Maybe we need to still be walking through the rice every once in a while. Feeling the grains stick to our feet. Watching the husks dry in the sun. Slowly, slowly...taking in what is happening.

Fall

2011-11-19T18:46:00.003+05:30

A few days ago I celebrated my two year anniversary in Nepal. Unfortunately, in bed, as I was laid out with a fever. But I was internally celebrating, nevertheless.

It was hard for me to imagine being in Nepal for two years when I first arrived. But here I am, in certain ways, quite a changed person. No matter what other reasons might exist, I guess this is partially why we really come if we are honest with ourselves.

I am enjoying feeling at home in a country that at one point felt so foreign.

I am enjoying switching easily in conversations between Nepali and English.

I am enjoying knowing finally what work it is here that brings me genuine joy.

I continue to enjoy simple pleasures: like Nepali tea and full conversations with no words; dancing and joke telling as part of trainings; knowing my neighbours and the fact that my corner shop carries everything really necessary.

And I am enjoying knowing that I am on my last stretch of time here. Time which I am really grateful for.

For me life in Nepal has a level of intensity to it, as well as a circularity and fluidity. I am starting to wonder what it will be like to go back to things that feel normal, predictable, and linear. I imagine that I will find this alternatively hard and comforting.

Here the weather is crisp. Sunny. The mountains stretching along the horizon. On and on and on. Dust is filling the air. More and more every day. And outside of the city the fields have now been cleared of all the rice. Everyone is getting ready for the cold that is starting to set in.

Picture above: evening of dancing at our young professional women's workshop.

Tihar

2011-11-02T13:32:00.006+05:30

Tihar is my favorite holiday in Nepal. It's all about singing, dancing, community and neighbors, kids, families, and having fun. It's about lighting candles, inviting prosperity into our lives, honoring animals and renewing relationships.

I headed up briefly to the mountains during Tihar and got to join in on a rockin' village dance party high up in the now cooooold mountain foothills. The views of the peaks this time of year are breathtaking.

I came back to town with 2 nasty blisters, a cold, and a fresh and clear mind. Plus this photo.

The boy above, when he saw himself, got the hugest grin on his face. He said, "I look like an eagle"! Indeed.

For my brother, Cameron

2011-10-24T10:17:00.002+05:30

Dear Cameron,

I took this picture just for you.

How cool are the deer's antlers?

Love, sis

Dad visits!

2011-10-23T17:02:00.004+05:30

Mountains and monasteries
Crazy local bus rides
Women sitting on my father's lap
Children sitting on mine
Praying, praying, no one will puke this time
Taking in the quiet of the morning fog of Lumbini
A welcome reprieve from the oppressive heat of the day
Moments of stillness
And home
Wrapped up together, mingling together
Speaking to each other

Sacred cows

2011-10-02T21:27:00.003+05:30

Last week we volunteers had the opportunity to gather in Lumbini, birthplace of Buddha, for 2 days of work. Program planning, strategizing, discussing... And evening gumning (that's Nepangregi, for my fellow half English, half Nepali speakers).

This cow slept at the front gate of the buddhist nunnery where we were staying. She arrived a year ago, and hasn't left since.

My dad arrived in Nepal 2 days ago. I am seeing the country again from a visitor's eyes.

Tomorrow we head for a 3 day trip on the Trisuli river: from Kathmandu to Naranghat, which was very close to where my first home was in Nepal. Perhaps it's not exactly the same as canoeing down the Deschutes as we used to do when I was young. But - on multiple levels - feels like circling around back to home. Just in a new way each time.

Movement

2011-09-19T07:49:00.005+05:30

These days everything is shaking, rumbling, stirring

It has been like this for some time.

Sometimes in a pleasant way – laced with hope and excitement.

Sometimes it’s quite uncomfortable.

I guess change is like this.

Today it started shaking outside also. First my computer screen. Then my chair, the windows.

It felt like the world was reflecting my inner self back to me.

Outside on the street, my neighbour claimed it must have been a 5.5. I wonder what it was near the center, he mused.

Aren’t we always at the center?

If we die today, however, we’ve done our meditation and we’ll die with our spirit happy, in the right way, he says.

He says this with a smile on his face.

He’s a brilliant artist. And can say these things and they sound authentic. Not like platitudes.

We had just eaten. Rice and potatoes and turmeric and spices and cabbage and onions and garlic and peppers and achaar.

We had talked about the transitory nature of life. How quickly everything can change. And how in our life- how often it does.

As I was running down the stairs, I realized how easy it was to leave everything behind if I had needed to.

Outside of the immediately practical things (my passport, wallet, a flashlight, pen and paper, water and a house key), everything truly important to me isn’t material.

This, somehow, is reassuring.

Nora: I felt like it was appropriate that I spent today (your wedding day) with artists and philosophers and home-made food cooked with love.

In the calm now, it’s hard to know if the shaking was the beginning or the end.

And really, it doesn’t really matter.

It’s just good to enjoy the calm while it is here.

Knowing that peace and chaos can only ever co-exist.

Monsoon skies

2011-09-05T15:56:00.002+05:30

A reflection on weather and our connection with the sky as - with clouds still grumbling outside my office window - the monsoon season starts to come to a close.

Renew.

2011-08-25T15:35:00.006+05:30

Burnout. What to do?

Meditate.
Be silent.
Breathe.
Dance.
Run through rivers.
Celebrate.
Light a candle and float it down the river.
Take time to make and eat good food with friends.

Success. Reminder to self: there is always time (and endless ways) to renew the soul.

Photos above from a ceremony from one of my very favorite villages in Nepal where women still take the time to be together, renew their connections, honor their community, make beautiful things, and feast.

To all of you who let me know that you read and enjoy the blog - thank you.

Asan in the evening - and blog audiences

2011-08-02T14:32:00.004+05:30

These two pictures are a holding point as I decide what to do with this blog. I took these on one of my walks home from the VSO office to my apartment. A long, chaotic, sometimes exhausting, often magical, walk.

I started this blog because I saw this as one tool that could help keep my connection with my friends and family at home while I am away for so long.

I thought it could also be a way of also processing some of my personal experiences, since I have a hard time motivating myself to write in my journal, but can respond s to my mother's requests for letting her know what is going on with me already.

I figured that I would have a regular readership of about exactly 4. That would be: my mother and my sister, Brian (who, as one of my best friends, is always consistent and there for me and is the type of person to check this regularly no matter what), and a friend here or there who would randomly remember me and wonder what I was up to.

Having a sense that only a few people would ever see what I wrote was actually very freeing. I felt like I could say whatever was really on my mind.

After some time (and with the help of blogger stats), I realized that actually there were a lot of people reading my blog. A lot. Well, this is in comparison to what I expected. Not in comparison to what blogs are capable of.

The highest number of page hits - up until recently - were always from the United States. Naturally. But over time, more and more also from Nepal and India. And now, friends in Nepal outnumber my friends from home looking at whatever I post quite regularly.

In a way, this shows a shift that has also happened within me in the last year and a half. The more and more I am here, the more I am connected to Nepal and the less and less I feel connected to the United States and what is happening there on a daily basis.

In smaller numbers, I've seen a lot of people reading from Saudi Arabia, Australia, Germany, Russia, and Iran. I get a page hit or two from specific friends in Uganda or elsewhere, as well. In total, around 900 page hits every month.

I feel loss around the fact that my wider circle of friends back home don't read my blog as often anymore. Of course, I don't know which specific individuals are actually reading and not reading (unless they tell me). But I can see which country someone is reading from.

I take this as a sign that I am further in the back of the mind of people's who lives are full and busy and moving on. I've been gone for too long. I know this.

Writing for people that I know and love feels really satisfying to me. Writing for someone who may read this is Saudi Arabia is exciting (because technology's ability to connect people is amazing and I LOVE thinking that my experience can be connected to someone's in a country I have never visited in some way), but it also feels a bit odd to me. I can see that someone has looked at, say, 19 posts. But I don't know who they are, why they stumbled across my blog, or what they think about anything I write. There is no conversation or connection with this person (directly at least).

And because the intention of keeping this record was to keep my connection with friends and community at home, I am now wondering where realizing all of this now leaves me.

I'm off on leave soon. Time to get away and refresh. Maybe I'll have new insight when I return.

Texture

2011-07-25T16:50:00.002+05:30

Life starts to have a texture after some time in a new place.

The rhythms of morning sounds,
walking to work,
looking forward to buying fruit from the same man,
knowing where to get your hair cut,
a good espresso,
your friends' hangouts,
where to hear live music,
the places people gather,
the most peaceful places for when you need to reflect.

Slowly, slowly....bistarri, bistarri. It all comes together.

Development (Yes? Development?)

2011-07-16T18:22:00.005+05:30

Development: the process of developing or being developed (dictionary.com). Got it???

I think about development every day. It's the work I have landed in. But it's been especially on my mind these days at VSO Nepal's 5 year development strategy is coming to finalization. And as I watch the organizations that I work with really struggle with gaps (of some many kinds) between them and the donors who fund their project.

There aren't any simple solutions...just perhaps less positive and more positive ways of approaching the (huge) challenges involved in the ground realities of "development". Which has something to do with money, power, voice, and (a huge variety) of personal images of what is desirable and "advanced".

In Nepal, in reality, the opportunities for gaps and losses between a) someone who has a vision for what they'd like to see (and money) in the UK (let's say for sake of example), b) the head of a Nepali organization based in Kathmandu, c) a district representative working to implement these two visions (but who is supposed to be empowered and make their own decisions because development these days is people centered) down to the d) field staff who live and see the reality of people's lives in villages in Nepal are, well, many.

In my very limited experience here in Nepal with development, I would say that the misses (and sometimes detrimental effects) within development are just about as many as the positive outcomes.

But I guess that change isn't always a graceful process...anywhere.

Above is a picture narrative of a recent trip to our field area. Which could, perhaps, in some ways serve as a metaphor for my personal experience of current development in Nepal.

(1) There's been monsoon rain, and there are landslides along the road from Kathmandu to Hetauda. This is a particularly large landslide that our jeep tentatively traverses. The roads were totally closed yesterday, and we find out later that after our travel, they are closed again for at least a week due to dangerous conditions. That means no travel between Hetauda and Kathmandu at all, unless you walk or take a plane.

(2) Public transportation. Every once in a while you have to get out of the car (or jeep, or bus) and walk. Until the bus is fixed, or - in this case - the jeep makes it successfully over the landslide.

(3) I'm not sure if the magnitude of the drop comes across in this picture, but this is the ravine that the jeep would slide into had it not made it over the landslide safely. We all clap in excitement when it makes it to the other side.

(4) Our first stop is to a teacher's training program(the program manager and myself). In a situation like this, I've found the best thing I can do is show up, and do absolutely nothing (except be supportive and participate). Nepalis are more capable than leading this training than I am, as they know the language and local context. Having a white face around, I have learned, however, gives an amount of legitimacy to what they are doing and somehow they are taken more seriously. My colleagues are smart people, know this, and invite me to show up at trainings and events and other things whenever they can.

The teachers in the training had a great time learning child-friendly teaching methods. One teacher was so happy at the end of the training that he talked for a good 15 minutes passionately about how these 2 days were more valuable to him than the 7 day training that was provided to him by the government to prepare him for teaching.

As good as the training was (and it really was), it is unlikely that anyone will be able to do any follow up or ongoing learning/support with these teachers. And as 60% are only temporary teachers, it's hard to know where they'll be 6 months from now or what they might - in reality -be able to implement.

Step by step, though...this is a good start, for sure. The 15 minute speech convinces me of that.

(5) Raju and I go to to visit one of our SEC (Supplementary Education Centers) in our project area. They are in remote regions, which is good, because we are wanting to serve children in the truly remote/excluded areas of Nepal. The challenge? Supervision, training, and field visits. Extremely difficult in really remote areas. How do you train and support staff when you can only visit them once every few months and they often can't be reached on mobile phones?

Here's Raju on a bridge as we cross. Apparently he gets mobile phone service here, though.....

(6) A water buffalo is taking refuge in the water. It's a hot day. We see women doing laundry in the 5 streams and rivers that we cross, hand crafted nets to catch fish, and tons of children playing in the water. They are definitely not in school. It's too hot, and there is too much work to be done in the fields at this time of year.

(7) Here's the inside of one of our SEC centers. Notice the women and others from the village at the window who are watching our whole visit. This is the norm. I am so good at not being worried about intense staring any more. The children in our class are either at risk of dropping out of school, or are non-school going children. This means that they are busy working in the fields during the day and can't make it to school (but have committed to coming to our 2 hour-a-day classes.

(8) We decide to get the kids out of the classroom and play some learning games outside. Circles and games and singing and dancing- yep - this is fun. Even though the kids will go right back to chairs and rows and recitation as soon as we leave. Which is okay - because consistency is rewarded in Nepal. And these children need to be successful ultimately within the system of which they are a part.

(9) We take a last photo as we leave - the kids holding up their notebooks. This is for the funder. My Nepali colleagues are ALWAYS taking pictures for the funders. They have been well trained. This is so that the funders can see where their money has gone.

Broadcast

2011-07-07T20:54:00.007+05:30

Life has a sense of humor sometimes. Like now, as I start to realize that my time and work in Nepal is limited, and begin to panic that I don’t have a specific plan yet for what comes next. ( I don’t know that I would normally panic, except that people keep asking me over and over again – what will you do when your placement is over? And I don’t know yet, I really don’t).

In the midst of this, I get an invitation to talk on a live radio program with my friend, Rajesh, about career planning for jobs in NGO and INGOs. As an “expert”.

Ha! Career planning? Well, okay, I do know some things about finding and applying for jobs. And I know Rajesh really wants me to do this. He’s taken me to his village home for the most important festival of the year and I feel part of his family. How can I say no?

So there I am this morning, waiting on the corner for Rajesh to come by and pick me up on his motorbike. Times like this, I find myself thinking: wow. This is it. This is Nepal. Here I am. Just watching everything happen around me. I could have never imagined this 2 years ago. Ever.

Rajesh came later than I was hoping (but not expecting) and whisked me off to the Capitol FM radio station, a tall building on the far side of town near where the riots and tire burnings happen when that sort of thing is going on. It looks so peaceful and normal today...

I am happy that VSO has a rule about wearing a helmet on motorcycles today as I sit behind Rajesh and he weaves quickly and sporadically in between cars. I’m grateful for his speed, though, as – frankly – I am nervous as hell about being on the radio live and would really like to arrive at least 15 minutes before we are live on the air.

Inside, the building is narrow and tall. Bright blue, green, and pink walls. Recently painted. A guard lets us in once he confirms we’re welcome, and we step into a fancy office with windows that oversee what really must one of the best views of the Kathmandu valley I’ve seen from the city. I can see all of it from here.

The radio staff are walking about in nice suits, barefoot. It is Nepal, after all, and even though the building is modern, people wouldn’t be comfortable if they didn’t leave their shoes at the door, or the markings from the last puja weren’t visible at the top of their doorway. This makes me feel happy.

I wonder about whether I’ll ever get to run an office at home in the US and make taking off our shoes mandatory. I would like to make that rule someday.

We have all of 10 minutes now that we have arrived to meet the man who will host the show to tell him what we want to talk about, to hand him the questions we’ve written up, and to help guide him. He’s a bit sidetracked by the fact that the questions are all in English. After a seriously condensed introduction, we walk down one flight of stairs to our studio. We slide into our seats at 12:01. The show has started, but we have 3 minutes of intro commercials and music before we have to start talking. And for me to figure out how exactly these headphones work.

I want to be really focused on what I’m supposed to say, but honestly am just trying to take in the whole environment and what it is exactly I am expected to do. My first answer is not very clear, as I am distracted by the music piped into my earphones in the background, and I am sure that everyone must be able to hear the total panic in my voice. This is live?? Like – I don’t get any re-dos? All these random, faceless people are listening to what I say, as I say it? The thought is quite terrifying to me.

I am put at ease somehow, however, by the fact that my host admits during our first break that he is equally nervous. He hasn’t ever had a foreigner on his show before. And also doesn’t feel confident about his English (even though it’s really good). I figure if he can be nervous and still sound really good and talk easily, then I should convince myself to try to do the same. I try to will myself to relax and sound really confident.

When I can’t follow certain parts of what is said in Nepali during our show (it’s mostly in Nepali, but I am allowed to answer in English), I am fascinated by looking at the glass that separates our small compartment and the producer’s compartment. It is just like a fish tank. Without any fish, or water.

At the bottom are shells, coral, and ceramic mermaids. I can count the number of Nepalis I know on one hand who have seen the ocean or shells. Who exactly chose THIS is the decor for a room suspended up above the city in a land of mountains?

As if to anticipate my discomfort with the waterless tank summoning the ocean in the mountains, someone has hung a traditional Nepali purse on the side of the wall inside the glass. Yes, that feels about right. It is from the hills. Ok. I can focus again. Which is good, because Rajesh is finishing, and our host is getting ready to ask me another question.

After my initial panic, I start to ease more and more into the interview. I don’t say anything very brilliant, but try to convince myself it’s okay, because I’m at least sure I’ve not said anything false or harmful. And for today, that has to be enough. I am lucky that Rajesh is on a roll – he can speak forever about anything and everything. And this fact is extremely comforting to me all of the sudden.

I am enjoying this experience, but in kind of a painful suffering way. The kind where you know you’ll be really excited about it afterwards. But during, it just really wasn’t that fun. I am watching the clock the whole time, just waiting for it to be over.

And as soon as it is, I feel relief. I think – okay! Now I get it. And our host is really great. I like him. It’s fascinating watching him and the producer do their thing. Ok, now I’m ready to do it again. Let’s go!

Our host is really kind and invites us for tea after the show and says he’ll have us back. I’ve already decided I won’t come back – unless I can talk about something I feel really passionate about and have adequately prepared for. I feel grateful he didn’t tell me that I was terrible (or say nothing at all).

Rajesh and I have to go back to work, so we say no to the tea and pop onto the bike and go to grab a quick meal. Somehow I have worked up an appetite. I think it was the nerves.

On the way, I notice a man in a crowd who is dressed all in yellow, walking barefoot, with long dreadlocks and a long, narrow u-shape painted on his forehead. He is a wandering holy man. This is common to see. What is not, is the heavy load that he has balanced on his head as he walks. And the spectacular trident he carries in his right hand. It is bright red and I think it has sparkles.

We also pass something that feels in between a holy celebration and a parade. Apparently it is the Hari Ram Hari Krishnas. They are singing and dancing, carrying colored masts with no writing or pictures, and are handing out fruit and juice to people as they pass by. They have completely blocked one side of the road and traffic is stalled for 10 minutes.

When we get to the restaurant, our egg thukpa soup isn’t very good, really. But it’s simple and easy on the stomach. And it’s come to be my comfort food here.

And I am grateful that life can somehow feel familiar and absolutely new at the same time. Over and over again here.

A letter to my friends

2011-06-21T11:14:00.007+05:30

Dear friends in Seattle, Alaska, California, Germany, Kenya, Uganda, India, the UK, Holland, South Africa, the Philippines and especially Portland (because it is home) from talking circles and dancing circles and facilitation circles and at MFS, those who have sent me letters and care packages and emails and notes and stories from your lives and your thoughts:

in the midst of busy-ness and things to do and calendars and schedules and deadlines and reports and papers and work and family and love and play

I send you some peace and space and freedom from the middle of the jungle of Nepal

from the base of a tree where the local population say they have found the new Buddha: Ram Bahadur Bomjom

a young man from the Tamang group

though he will disagree (about being the new Buddha, that is)

this is where he often meditates

sometimes for 3 days without eating, drinking, or moving a muscle

maybe more

I know why he chose this place

it must be one of the most magical places on earth

even though I am far, I think of you all the time

you have helped support my spirit and work and will and courage during this time in Nepal

and have helped me choose this journey

I want you to know how grateful I am

I wouldn't be here without you

Love, Tiffany

Wedding ceremony

2011-06-13T15:44:00.007+05:30

A couple of months ago I attended my landlord's family wedding ceremony. I have lived with this family for 6 weeks in the same home, so they feel like - in a way - my Nepali family here. One of them, at least.

A multi-day affair of which I got a window into two of the most important (public) days: the bride's side family party, and then the passing of the bride from one family to another the day after.

The family is Newari, an indigenous group from Nepal. They have quite distinct traditions that feel very different from Hindu (India-origin) families I know.

I can't remember a time I've been to a wedding quite so luxurious, nor beautiful - both visually, but also ceremonially. The two days were a reflection of all of the emotions that intertwine at such a huge life event: excitement, release, anticipation, sorrow, seriousness, closeness and absolute familiarity, strangeness and unfamiliarity, worry and child-like play.

Photos above:

(1) Bride-to-be friends tending to their sister
(2) The bride-to-be at her last party with her mother's family
(3) One of my new friends...
(4) 2nd day: marking the groom's arrival
(5) Celebration after the exchange of the neck garlands - our equivalent of the exchanging of the rings
(6) Salpana, who helps with the work at home
(7) Bride flanked by the women from her family
(8) Father spending a serious moment with his daughter before he helps give her away
(9) The official giving away of the bride...her mother pours water over the bride and groom's hands, her father's hands
(10) Covering of the new wife's face

Girls in nepal: short video

2011-06-06T16:54:00.000+05:30

While Nepal is one of the (the?) most diverse countries in the world (in terms of languages, culture, ethnicity, geography) the Hindu religion is imbedded in the every day of almost all parts of Nepal. And as it is religion that helps create our world view, Hinduism creates some strong ties between people and places in Nepal.

This means that even though a girl growing up in the Everest region of Nepal is hundreds of kilometers (distance) and meters (height) away from a girl living in the district where I am working (Makwanpur), their experience is - at least in some ways - extremely similar.

These days I am now working one day a week at the VSO office on gender related work. I love, love, love it. It complements the work I do "in the field" with COSAN. This week, for instance, I am continuing some research about gender and education in Nepal, meeting with the Muslim Women's Organization (the only organization in Nepal run by Muslim Women), and exploring some ideas with fellow volunteers about how VSO can play a stronger role in bringing about increased awareness of gender issues into our partner organizations and schools.

I want to share this video with you. While not an organization that I have any personal experience with, it does a decent job of showing a window into the life of girls in Nepal. It's about 4 and a half minutes long.

I am hopelessly impatient with technology (hence my very short career as a documentary maker) and can't figure out how to hyperlink this (that sounds cool, right?) so you'll have to cut and paste this link.

http://vimeo.com/21243728

Picture above: My 4 year-old neighbor from Hetauda, Smarika. Candid shot - not posed. She would come and "clean" my apartment, sometimes for up to an hours as play. And to be able to hang out with me.

I love Namo Buddha

2011-06-03T13:28:00.001+05:30

From today's paper

2011-05-27T13:07:00.000+05:30

Nepal? Beautiful. Nepali people? Beautiful. Nepal political system right now? Not so pretty.

Photos above not taken by me. I am in, my quiet and peaceful part of town, away from the craziness of protests, clashes, and vehicle burning these days.

Strikes Hit Life in the Valley, Elsewhere. May 27th, 12:35 pm.

KATHMANDU: Normal life has been affected in Kathmandu Valley due to the general strike called by various groups since early Friday morning.

No private and public vehicles are running due to the strike. Educational institutions and marketplaces and businesses have remained closed. Vehicles belonging to emergency services providers have however been allowed to ply on the road.

The strike has turned violent in several places, with the bandh enforcers vandalizing at least four vehicles in different locations including Sukedhara, Banasthali and Dilli Bazar of Kathmandu Valley.

Chure Bhawar Rastriya Ekta Party, Bishwo Hindu Mahasangh and others have enforced the bandh to press for non-extension of the Constituent Assembly (CA) term. The current mandate of CA is expiring tomorrow.

The strike enforcers have also asked to declare Nepal as a Hindu state and not to restructure state along ethnic lines, among other things.

Activists of Chure Bhawar Rastriya Ekta Party are scheduled to picket the CA building violating the prohibitory orders later this afternoon, protesting the CA’s failure to give the country a new statute.

Likewise, strikes called by the Brahmin Samaj and the Chhetri Samaj have affected normal life in most of the eastern districts including Jhapa, Morang, Sunsari and Dhankuta.

Thousands of passengers have been stranded on the road along highways due to the strikes in Dhading and Makawanpur districts.

Transition

2011-05-23T12:50:00.000+05:30

After a harrowing day getting my things here to Kathmandu that I prefer to never relive (not even in writing), I am happily settling into life in the city again.

I have come off of my initial city high - overwhelmed for 4 full days with things like access to other foreigners to talk with, live music in the evenings, European bread, coffee, real chocolate, and the ability to stay out later than 8:30 in the evening if I choose.

While it's great to have this much choice, I am acutely aware in the moment of the pressure and decisions that this much choice also presents.

While living in Hetauda, I distinctly felt on so many occasions that the simple things I had were more than enough. I remember feeling no desire at all to accumulate anything, to spend any money that I didn't have, or to look for something better than what I had right in front of me. What I had was completely sufficient. And it was an amazingly freeing feeling to sense on a daily basis that - this is enough. I have everything that I need.

Kathmandu offers endless opportunities to meet with people and for creative learning and expression that I couldn't find in Hetauda, however. Excitement galore for me. So much so that I had to force myself to stay home the other night, because I didn't trust myself to be anything but totally weird in the company of others. I find myself so excited to talk to someone who knows what my experience is like that I just can't shut up. Embarassing. I need to adjust to all of this opportunity and choice a bit slowly.

Nepal is struggling with it's own transition now as strikes are called and enforced, strikes are called and then counter strikes enforced, strikes are called and then called off...

There is not much hope that the government will create a constitution by the May 28th deadline after having two years to do so. I have heard some starting to say they are nostalgic for the past when they had a king and were part of a Hindu kingdom instead of this current set up that is, if nothing else, completely unclear exactly what it is. And it is hard to know what will happen when the deadline is not met. Unrest is certain. Which kind, is not.

In the meantime I have recovered from my coffee and chocolate craze and have gone back to making my own roti (local flatbread) and vegetables.

And I am creating my new work plan for Kathmandu. I plan to be productive here- that much I know. The rest, we will see...

Goodbye (for now) Hetauda

2011-05-16T11:41:00.000+05:30

At 7:30 Am tomorrow morning, I will be greeted by a truck that will take my favorite things from Hetauda to Kathmandu. I am moving to Kathmandu!!!

While I have mixed emotions about leaving (I love Hetauda and the people I know here), it's time for me to move on.

Here's a snapshot of what my last week has been like.

Sunday. I decided on an apartment in Kathmandu shared with another volunteer after some serious searching and thinking. Yeah! As we walk in to tell the landlord, however, a very tall German man presents himself as the now rightful owner of the studio space I was going to move into. Darn. But at least he's really nice.

Monday morning. Confirm at another apartment. This time it's a go! It's fabulous, spacious, has good light, a view of the forest, and birds that chirp in the morning. Check. Check. Check.

Tuesday. Back in Hetauda. Not sure for how many days. Madly start packing and saying goodbyes.

I did not realize how settled in here I was until I come to move my life from one place to another. Did I arrive in Nepal with two pieces of luggage and a handbasket really? Holy crap! In my defense, 90% of my things have been accumulated already by the 4 volunteers here before me.

This does not include the mental and emotional accumulation that I now need to sift through, however, that I can not pawn off on anyone else. Okay - got some work to do.

Thursday. Okay - office vehicle is getting ready to go to Kathmandu tomorrow. No wait, today. Actually - no, tomorrow really. Okay, Okay...I rally for whatever will happen. I need to be ready to throw as much as possible in.

I do this while also having fun baking and cooking, inviting people over for all of the times I wanted to, but didn't yet. There are a stream of people coming over - this is fabulous!

Friday. Strike. Nope, not going to Kathmandu today. Monday, I'll go Monday with a truck instead.

Monday. Today's the day! I'm moving! Wait...nope...truck isn't ready. Tuesday happens to be a much better day for the driver, he says. Apprently Hetauda isn't done with me either. Tuesday, I will leave Tuesday.

Monday evening. Burning ceremony in my back yard. I burn all of the papers and unnecessary things I've accumulated over the last year and a half - well, all that is fit for burning that is. It feels incredibly satisfying to be sitting with all of this as it goes up in flames. I feel lighter afterwards. Even though it's really no fun at all to be standing close to a hot fire in 95% weather as snot pores down my face from being so close to the smoke. Totally worth it. And probably very over due.

My day ends with a delectable meal and dancing in the living room at my friend Sushila's house.

Tuesday......I'm just positive that things will work out for tomorrow. Unless there's another strike. Let's see.

As requested by folks in the COSAN central office. And also so that I can catch up on the city arts and dancing scene. Yeah!

Peace, Environment, and Human Rights

2011-05-04T15:24:00.000+05:30

Success!!!

35 women from Makwanpur (and one foreigner - me) had a fabulous 3 days together.

If I have had challenges this last year and a half in Nepal (well, yes, I've had quite a few), these three days made everything worth it for me. Absolutely everything.

We sang, danced, wrote poetry, acted, sat and talked about things we otherwise don't get to talk about, took facilitation and leadership risks, laughed, cried, created. Created new friendships, created new understanding, created learning around women's rights in Nepal.

Yep. This is what it's all about.

I wanted to post a video of Prenam ji (pictured above presenting), 21, starting off her first ever workshop. It was fabulous. Topic: emotions and leadership. She started of by sharing a poem she had written about social justice issues. But - my internet connection here is too slow to upload the video. So stay tuned.

Also above: women doing a role play about abortion. And two others doing a role play about girl trafficking in their villages.

And....do you want to know what they have to say to the world? What they want you to know?

Here is what they wanted you to know:

Nepal is the most beautiful place on earth. And they want to keep it that way. These women love the trees and rivers and mountains and plains that inhabit them in a way that amazes and inspires me. They are willing to fight to protect their environment.

I have seen a rhododendron flower bring more joy to somebody (over and over again) than anything that could ever be purchased with money.

They also love their traditions and their culture. While extremely interested in learning, they are not interested in becoming westernized. They are not interested in imported ideas that are not their own or that don't come from their own feelings and communities. They feel proud of who they are, and want to keep what is theirs: their language, their traditions, their culture.

And peace. They want peace. More than anything.

I feel honored to have had the chance to spend 3 days with 34 amazing, inspiring individuals. Thank you!

Heading in...

2011-04-30T07:40:00.000+05:30

.....to a 2 day workshop that I've been looking forward to for months.

9 creative facilitators. 27 young women (17-24) who come from marginalized communities. 3 nights and 2 days of art, empowerment and social justice. Of discussion and talking about the things that most matter to us, of exploration of voice, and information sharing about woman's and human rights. Plus, a lot of fun guaranteed along the way.

Stay tuned for pictures and stories, a window into what these women have to say to the world.

For Elijah...

2011-04-28T21:21:00.000+05:30

Life is way better when enjoyed with good friends around...just sayin'.

One of the coolest parts of being a VSO volunteer? Meeting amazing people from all around the world that I otherwise would have never had the opportunity to meet. I mean truly fabulous people.

Hey, Elijah...don't forget us all in Nepal. Or your good hair stories.

Miss you. :-)

Luck and Timing

2011-04-22T09:22:00.001+05:30

We had our annual volunteer conference a bit over a week ago. 45 volunteers in Nepal and the VSO office staff all congregated in Nagarkot to update ourselves about development in Nepal, share experiences and learning, and to have some fun.

I was one on a team helping to organize and facilitate at the conference - at ton of fun. As I was helping with the opening session, I wanted to start off the 4 days together with a poem, but hadn't had any time to look for anything.

30 minutes before we started I did a hectic google search. What kind of poem might be fitting? And came across the poem below. It is perfect, I love it. A poem written by a Newari writer that uses nature imagery to talk about human nature. Newars are one of the indigenous groups of Nepal....they have been living on this land for a long, long time.

The photos above are from a trip to Bhaktapur, a Newari city that uses tourist fees to protect the cultural heritage and traditions and to keep up the city. When you visit Bhaktapur, it feels like you have a window into how people have been living consistently for 500 years or more. Save for little clues every once in awhile (like an advertisement above a shop) that reminds you of this other world we are more familiar with.

Elijah and I visited Bhakapur as our last day together before he left to go back home to Uganda. As we sat in a cafe drinking hot chocolate, ducking from the torrential rain that means the monsoon is on its way, we watched women walk across the main square gathering water from the well. Bucket by bucket. Catching up on the latest gossip. Others rested at their local shop under the eaves, patiently watching the rain and waiting.

We also happened to come on a day when they celebrate one of two main annual festivals. The whole city was alive and vibrant as men and boys pulled chariots through the city and everyone came to observe. It felt like such an honor to witness this ceremony and practice of bringing people together, calling in the rain, celebrating the new year. What lucky timing...

The Restless Urge For Equality

by Purna Bahadur Vaidya

Before moving water rounds itself
and rises ever so slightly
with an eye to sorting out where the land slopes
where depth lies

Encountered, the world gives it flow, direction, speed
As always water's intention is to fill and raise
Where boundaries create you & me
where between yours & mine walls rise --it revolts

Gathering strength it flows,
and wherever it flows
as day follows day walls collapse,
boundaries are dismissed

In the absence of boundaries and walls
we see wider land --where water calmly, naturally, moves on

This struggle tells me
that the character of the land is uneven

Tempered by the speed of the flow
my own innate desire
is the equality I seek

Naya bharsa ko laagi 2068, shuba kamana!

2011-04-14T18:27:00.000+05:30

Which translates to: Happy New Year, 2068.

Love, all of us in COSAN, at Daman View Tower, Makwanpur, Nepal.

excuse me, there is a chicken in my hotel room

2011-04-12T20:01:00.000+05:30

this is an interlude....as i am in between. in many ways.

(happily) exhausted. i just arrived home a few hours ago. off again parsi to palung.

parsi is nepali for the day after tomorrow. i like that there is just one word for this day.

i notice. these days, memories seem to inhabit my body. moving around. coming and going.

i fear losing them. i keep thinking to myself - i need to write all of this down. i can't forget that the other day, when i was in rautahat, i went to the office and someone told me that two bombs had gone off that morning.

one at the women's development office. another in a bus. two different underground groups took responsibility for them. one was called the terai cobras. this is why the buses are on strike and only the man who has come in a cart was able to make it to our office.

when did this become part of my normal everyday?

now there is a local political leader who controls three of our 19 working areas who has decided he doesn't want any ngo presence in the area. at least unless he can control of our budget and all of the decisions that are made. luckily, he allows our staff to continue - for now - to help find children who need to go to school and to work with our women's community action groups. who knows what will happen next.

tomorrow there is supposed to be a strike again. maybe. no one is sure. it's hard to know if it's just a rumor.

in between...i find ways to double up laughing with other volunteers as i watch my friend, george, gallivant around in a costume made of newspapers at our volunteer conference. i say goodbye to my friend who has perhaps most helped me survive here until now: elijah. i stumble across and get pulled into an ancient festival, a tug-of-war between men.

they are pulling a chariot. elders sit on top. candles, incense, ceremony witnessed by thousands. boys get pulled up top by shirt top. it is maybe to help call in the rain. maybe the first day of a four day festival to bring in the new year. it's hard to know, really. maybe both.

anyways, back to rautahat. which was only weeks ago. but feels like ages ago.

i am sharing a hotel room with a woman who works in our central office. i don't expect to see her here. but her father has died, she is telling me. she has spent 16 days grieving with her family and is now traveling back home to kathmandu and is joining the office vehicle as it returns back. we happen to be close to her family's home.

we talk for a long time, she seated on her bed. me on mine.

and then she looks at something behind me. i turn around to see what it might be, and notice a chicken in our hotel room. this hotel room that is - in contrast to its surroundings - amazingly light and bright and clean and comfortable.

yes, a chicken.

what?

apparently it was a gift from her brother. she had already brought it on the bus with her this far. it will be saved for a special meal. after the fasting she will do as part of the grieving.

the chicken was totally quiet at night, despite my fears that it would be running around the room keeping me awake. maybe even jumping onto my bed.

when darkness falls, however, it also fall silent. i sleep incredibly well.

until 4:45 AM. at which time the chicken (now i know it's a rooster) decides that it is time for everyone to wake up.

it calls in the morning - even before the sun has begun to rise. loudly. soooooo frickin' loudly. amazingly loudly. just inches from my head. i am utterly confident that everyone within a mile radius is also now awake.

yes, i say internally. in my head. this is my life now. personal rooster alarm clocks, bombs on buses and in offices, geckos running across my floors, laughing until i cry at my friends' antics, calling in the rain (or new year) in ancient tradition, severed goats heads being loaded in the back of a truck, a parting gift of chocolate from elijah. and finally, home.

how happy good chocolate makes me. but not to detract or distract...

these memories. i should write them down. keep them as mine.

they are sacred, they make me, my story. what am i outside of my story?

i should write them down. vignettes that find themselves now a part of me, moving within me. vivid and vibrant. vying for my attention.

really, i must craft.

35!

2011-03-31T11:59:00.000+05:30

I had a perfect 35th birthday: early morning hike, mountain sunrise, flying through the air, and and evening of the best of company.

THANK YOU to all who helped me celebrate my birthday in person, by email, phone, or in spirit. I am so grateful for all those who surround and support me. I am one lucky woman! And wouldn't be who I am without you. This was one of the best birthdays I have had.

Photos above: (1) paragliding in the Himalayas (words can't describe), (2) Elijah getting ready for take off, (3) prayer flag, (4) birthday sunrise view above Pokhara and (5) Akke Antje and me. We shared our birthday paragliding together. This is before we took off. Can you see how excited I was?

One of my best presents: a poem from my creative and fabulous brother, Cameron. I wouldn't normally print something like this about myself - it feels a bit odd. I think his talent deserves an audience, however!

Here it is:

A few years ago, who would've thought?
Tiffany in Nepal, enjoying her life as a horse enjoys a trot.
Facing all challenges, she takes them as they come and go,
Yup, it's my sister Tiff who runs the show.
Heh, it's so easy for her, the lowest degree,
Power outages at home? Who says she can't see?
To my amazing sister Tiffany, who simply
Constantly reaches epiphanies, doesn't succumb to trickery,
Continues to enjoy life in a way that's particularly inexplicably,
Enviable. Yes indeed, we shall proceed
To watch her successfully plant "knowledge seeds"
For those who need it most. But not to sidetrack -
This lady needs some time to herself like a tic does a tac,
Thus I hope she's able to fully enjoy this time AKA "take a min",
As does a newborn fish in the water putting to use multiple dorsal fins,
Happy birthday to my wonderful sister, Tiffany Corrine!

Poem by Cameron Purn (brother extraordinaire, who I miss very much)

Holi

2011-03-24T21:14:00.000+05:30

Even the name is cool. A Hindu festival of color.

Holi came at a good time this year for me. I was really needing a holiday of play and fun. And Holi came to the rescue.

Okay, so there are some parts of Holi that are weird and can be not-so-fun. Especially if you're not in the mood. Like if someone pelts you too hard with a water balloon while you're walking down the street and it's the last thing you expect. Or when people smear thikka powder on your teeth in your mouth. Yuck - imbibing toxic power sucks.

BUT - if you are in the mood and just give in to all the craziness, and head just a bit out of the main part of the city, this is one of the best festivals.

Everyone takes off work. Sleeps in, eats rice with their family. Then...it's off to "play Holi". Which entails smearing thikka power on your friend and family's face. Lots of it, as many colors as possible. Throwing it on them. Perhaps - if you go all out- breaking an egg on someone's head.

The best part? After a Nepali gets smashed in the face with tons of powder, they look to their assailant and say, "thank you". That is so Nepali. Yes - it is a blessing to have this kind of love showered upon you on this day. The more friends and relatives you have, the darker your face gets throughout the day.

Once I got over the fact that I wasn't ever going to wear the clothes I had on again and that it didn't matter...it was a day of paint craziness, total fun, and finally - exhaustion. After a long shower.

The streets are generally quite outside of the gangs of young men (mostly) and girls roaming around. Women and children watch all the fun from their windows and balconies - also often joining in. Young, old...all. Lots of music and singing and dancing on porches with neighbors joining in.

I found a great roadside music group who invited me to dance several songs - definitely the highlight of the day for me.

The holiday is a celebration of the defeat of an evil demoness, Holika. But also a celebration of color and Spring.

This is what Nepal does well. Combining ceremony, community, and play. Light and Dark with blurry lines. And even if your friend smashes an egg on your head, laughing it off, and saying, thank you.

Above:

1. Our COSAN team playing Holi in Hetauda

2. On Laxmi's roof in Chaughada

4 Laxmi, Avi, Cassie and friends on the roof

5. Rajesh on his motorbike in the village...roaming (as men here are wont to do)

6. Women in Putalibazaar

7. Elijah's "after" photo. Note the police in the background, who have a much stronger visual presence these days now that the UN Mission has left.

After ecstasy, the laundry

2011-03-15T13:28:00.000+05:30

It’s been a whirlwind recently, and after all the fun and work and craziness, it feels completely satisfying to be back in Hetauda with things on my to-do list like: do laundry.

I remember a postcard my friend Karen had on the wall above her work desk. It read: After Ecstasy, The Laundry. Indeed.

Two now-friends, Catherine and Nick, came to visit me here in Hetauda for a week of volunteering along their 6 month around-the-world trip (read about their travels here: http://www.travelblog.org/Bloggers/Cat-and-Nick/). It was reinvigorating for me to have people to talk about development with, to have an outside perspective on my life here and the work our organization is doing, and to have several opportunities to get out of the office to see what the staff in the field are up to.

Plus....stories from an around-the-world trip....fabulous. I was pretty sad to say goodbye to them. I adjusted very easily to having their company for food shopping, cooking, motorbike rides, song and game sessions with local children, and birthday parties.

Then, was off on travel for work. I still think of the elephant that lived just behind my hotel room in Chittwan. And how wonderful it was to sit at the river in the morning before we started to share the stillness with the water, jungle, canoes, and birds.

After the jungle, it was off to the mountains where I helped facilitate a leadership training in the company of the Himalayas. I worked SOOOO hard during that training. It was no vacation by any means. But if there is anywhere in the world to have to work really, really hard....

Finished off my travels by attending my landlord’s daughter’s wedding in Kathmandu. A Newari wedding - very elegant and multi-day affair that deserves a post of its own.

I am so exhausted after all the traveling and work and dancing(much, much fun was had in the process of so much work) that it doesn’t take much for me to break out into tears right now. For just about any reason. When I think about Elijah leaving soon, when I think about how lucky I am to be in such a stunning environment doing difficult work, when I can’t get my CD player on my computer to work AND the internet is despairingly slow AND my new Mp3 player is confusing to me....when I think of how easy I have it compared to people living in Japan in the moment.

When things like development, the “right” thing to do, or turning 35 soon seem overwhelming....laundry is wonderfully comforting. Watching the water cleanse my hands, my clothes, washing dust particles down the drain to return to the soil below.

Above:

1. Women coming home from work, enjoying watching Nick and village children playing games (photo by Catherine)

2. Nick is a hero! Nick is signing his autograph on hands of children who clamor for his attention. Sometimes being a foreigner in Hetauda can feel like being a celebrity...

3. Catherine taking a picture of the road. We made it up to here on the motorbikes after pretty tough terrain...but this is where they can't make it any further. On foot from here to meet with the local woman's community action group.

4. Leadership Course. Did it!!! Huge personal success for me as one of my goals in coming to Nepal was to help identify and support local leaders who are doing the *real* social change work here.

5. At the wedding, a perfect way to celebrate the end of several weeks of hard work.

Elephants and Gizzards

2011-03-05T08:22:00.000+05:30

Elephants!

This week I attended a day long work meeting in Souraha, a national park area an hour and a half from Hetauda.

Main public transportation to the area near the park is a horse drawn carriages.
Yes, besides walking the 7 kilometers from the road, this is the quickest, cheapest, and easiest way to get to where you are going.

And, walking alongside elephants? Part of the day-to-day. There are a bunch of elephants kept for tourists who want to go into the national park. Traditionally, also how folks would move around in the jungle area.

Several of the elephants walked past our hotel to and from the place where they enter the park. And one was kept just a few feet behind the room I slept in.

Now, I do feel very conflicted about elephants being kept captive. I do not feel conflicted, however, about the opportunity to touch and spend time with an elephant. Something I will never forget. The elephant's eye - so carefully taking in everything around it.

These elephants are sometimes adorned with tikkas (like above), and you can see them bathing in the river around mid morning each day. They've been trained in India and understand Hindi. The men who ride them are skilled, communicating through spoken commands and also an intricate system of foot movements and taps of a stick.

Even so, I would watch the elephants sometimes do exactly what they wanted and looks of amused exasperation from their owners.

And ahhh....the river. So beautiful and peaceful. When you are in Souraha, you can just feel that you are at the edge of miles and miles and miles of land that is teeming with wildlife.

Land of rhinos, at least 4 variety of deer, tigers, wild chickens, boars and over 500 species of birds - something like 14% of all the species in the world.

Today I am in Kathmandu on my way to another town (Nagarkot) where we will facilitate the second session of our Leadership course (which I am super excited about, by the way). We have a fabulous team and some really interesting content. I am looking forward to seeing how it goes over.

Just returned from meeting up with a group of people who do something they call the "Hash", a Saturday tradition here. Around 30 people gather at a new spot every week and go on a run (or a walk, like I did) through the villages and country landscapes. Those runners, they are pretty serious. Then afterward, everyone enjoys lots of food and drink.

Among others, I got to meet a Nepali yoga teacher/guru/herbalist and a diplomat from the Norwegian embassy. A very kind man who has his own gardener, driver, cook, and someone who does the cleaning. He has a sense of humor about his set up - aware of the extravagance compared to others' lives. And even offered to send fresh baked brownies to Hetauda when he saw my look of longing for "real" brownies...

We all just returned from eating tantalizing Newari food at a hole in the wall restaurant along a busy, otherwise nondescript Kathmandu street. In addition to the more common beaten rice (churra), spicy vegetables and chickpeas we had chicken liver, goat lungs, gizzard, tongue and some other food that was tasty, but that I thought better not to ask the name of.

Oh my, I live a good life.....

P.S. Note to Catherine and Nick: THANK YOU for visiting and volunteering at COSAN. Pix to follow.

Art and Social Justice

2011-02-16T21:30:00.000+05:30

Am busy these days traveling back and forth to Kathmandu and to the field. And am thoroughly enjoying being busy.

So, for now, a photo from a village I visited a couple of days ago. And, a link to a blog post I wrote for PYE Global on working with girls in Nepal. Their work is amazing - check it out.

http://pyeglobal.org/blog/2011/02/15/working-across-culture-in-nepal/

There is little in the world I love quite as much as the intersection of creativity, diversity, social justice, transformative learning and supporting girls in exploring their passions and voice.

Here's how I know I am adapting finally to life in Nepal

2011-02-01T13:57:00.000+05:30

I am very comfortable with silence

I even prefer silence at mealtimes

A motorcycle brushed my arm the other day as it whizzed past me and it didn’t phase me. Too much

I enjoy hand washing laundry

I say “la”, “hunchha, hunchha” and “pokka?” without thinking

Apparently my sentence inflection is different now (according to my mother)

I use the 5 minutes that it takes to open an email and multitask by working on a separate document or boiling water or cooking. The slow or at times non-existent internet also doesn’t worry me anymore

I am not startled when the neighbour children burst into my dhera and settle in at my kitchen table for tea, snacks and coloring

Sunday is the beginning of the work week

My bicycle is a luxury. Sitting in any kind of vehicle where I have room to move either my knees or shoulders is a *huge* luxury

I don’t trip when all of the plans I carefully made are changed on a whim (and absolutely last minute) by any number of outside factors and forces

It doesn’t bother me any more when people verbalize all their judgments about me

Conflict? What conflict? No, we’re cool

When I visit the temple, I am Hindu. When I visit a church I am Christian. When I visit a gumpa I am Buddhist. Why not?

And.....

Who needs toilet paper anyways?

I am sure I could go on and on.

But, the point is, I am feeling way more adjusted to life in Nepal now. Whew! That first year was a challenging one on that end in particular. Turns out that Asian philosophy and Western philosophy are different, you know? Thought processes are different, family structures are different, food is different, ideas of gender are (generally) different. The language these people speak here is different. And, well, you get the point.

I don’t believe I have lost anything, though, by adapting to life here (as was a bit of my irrational fear when I first arrived). I feel like I have gained insight into myself, and have a much broadened view of the world that even all of my past travel could have never prepared me for.

Okay, now that I have finally adapted (more or less). On to the next stage!! We’ll see what happens from here.

Photos above

a) I'm going upstairs on my roof to hang my laundry, and notice a very odd smell. That might even smell like fish. What IS that? When I finally look up, here is what I see (well, of course, how logical!).

b) Let's get a closer look at that....

By the way, weeks later, these fish are still hanging in the corridor that goes up to the roof. Probably getting dried out of reach of the wild cats for consumption at some holiday or ritual coming up. I think this is the most logical explanation.

A note

2011-01-30T08:35:00.000+05:30

Dear Grandma,

I am lighting a candle for you today.

Because today, now, here, is January 29th at home.

I know that it is from you that I have the love of dance and music in my life.

And the ability - even when life is harsh - to smile and laugh.

Hungary, Chicago, Texas, Hillsboro.

$5 checks at Christmas.

Remembering only what is most important.

Lover of freedom.

I feel you still with me

and will carry your spirit forward.

Love,

Your granddaughter, Tiffany

Saturdays

2011-01-29T15:36:00.000+05:30

I decided to follow custom today and to do laundry and visit a holy spot....in this case, the local gumba (Buddhist monastery).

Here are some images from along the trip.

1. Buffalo checking me out

2. Truck art

3. ....closer look

4. Oil lamps at the gumba

5. Painting of buddha

Rethinking the ordinary

2011-01-22T15:39:00.000+05:30

You know when you’re camping, and it’s late fall, or perhaps winter, and you’re all snug and warm in your sleeping bag? You don’t want to get out, because you know that it’s coooold outside. So, you stay longer in the tent than you should when you have to make a visit to the trees in the middle of the night . And in the morning, you hope that your friend is an earlier riser than you are and that they will start the fire and the coffee first.

Well, my life is like camping right now. Every day. First, it’s cold. At home, in the office, and when I’m in my Nepali class with my tutor. Second, when it’s dark outside, it’s dark everywhere. We’re now up to 12 hours of (day time) load shedding.

I also have lots of time to think in the moment. Specifically, I have been thinking recently that things that – just months ago – seemed so foreign, or different, or unusual now are a part of my every day.

To keep my thoughts and creativity from also freezing, I’ve decided to do a short series of photographs of these ordinary, everyday things that are integral in my life and daily routine these days.

Above:

Cooking with propane on a 2 ring burner

Boiling water

Candlelight, homemade sweets given to me by a neighbour, and my work notebook

The Power of Words

2011-01-12T13:48:00.000+05:30

The US Embassy held a poetry slam recently here in Nepal. Below is a poem from a Nepali youth.

I find it incredibly refreshing. Almost every youth I ever meet (aside from my 17 year-old friend who is my downstairs neighbor) just wants to get out of Nepal. They are sure that the solution to a better life is somewhere else.

There is so much beauty in Nepal, though, on many levels. And Nepal needs it's next generation desperately.

Home
Yukta Bajracharya

All I can see outside from these rose colored glasses
are neatly aligned boxes with big windows that breathe despair
big gates that breathe suffocating
and walking, talking sticks inside them that do not breathe at all.

The air here stifles,
crushes,
murders my every thought. Those cold faces
with hypocrisy painted over them
suck the life out of me.
Vaccums me.
But of course, you won’t hear the noise
you’re too deafened by the
clinking of the coins,
the rough strokes of the ugly green.

And so I sit here wishing
that I could fly to that place
you refuse to call your home.
Fly to that place
that I call home.

Home.
Where,
Poverty rings like temple bells
and smells like plastic full of dendrite.

Yet,
Home.
Where the air redolent in the smell of fresh jasmines,
the buttery smell of sweets from the haluwai,
Warm my soul.

Home.
Where,
Illiteracy, Surfaces as statistics
of people in the West,
dying of diarrhea.

Yet,
Home.
Where when you sit in the dabalis of the Patan Durbar Square
with eighteen rupees a cup tea in your hand
and for once
the world stands still.
You forget all your worries.

Home.
Where the streets are not paved with gold
but with potholes,
Because what fun in treading on smooth pavements?
To not trip once in a while and feel human?

Home.
Where the temple bells ring at early hours in the morning
and again at the not-so-early evening
and again and again and again
until, my spirit start to ring
in unison.

Home.
with shabby houses that smile,
slanting just a little
but standing
through and through the test of time.
The narrow, labyrinthine gullies
that lead you to courtyards of epiphany.
That perfect place of imperfection
where not everything is right,
but everything is alright.

I refute hundreds of your “heavens”
to go back home.
Because home,
is where I belong
Because, home
is where my soul
finds the voice to speak.

Welcome 2011

2011-01-06T14:29:00.000+05:30

My trip to India was wonderful and here I am, back in Hetauda. With some fresh perspectives on life.

I was reunited with my sister in her home, got to see how she lives, to visit her ashram, to meet and spend time with the swami who is her (and so many others') teacher.

We celebrated Christmas with our mother singing carols in a rickshaw on the streets of Kerala. Opening fresh, young coconuts and drinking the milk. Too full to eat all of the “meat” after eating chocolate and homemade cookies from home. Reading version after version of comic family poems based on “The Night Before Christmas” - an old tradition we have.

There was also lots of dance... I had the opportunity to both teach a dance class to about 30 indian girls, and to also attend a dance performance by Kathakali (local, traditional) dancers.

We spent time with the ocean, releasing flowers from the last evening’s puja (prayer), swimming, breathing in the sun.

India. Ashrams, puja, oceans, dancing, coconuts, warm sun, rickshaw rides. Train travel across the country, watching the countryside change as I get to lean out the side and let the air rush by.

The day my mother arrived in India – something I had looked forward to for soooo long – I found out my grandmother on my father’s side had died. Life is like this. Happiness and sadness are so intertwined. One loss brings in something fresh and new and welcome.

I had told her many times how much I love her over the years, and especially before she died. We'd had opportunities to have really good phone conversations at times when we both knew she wouldn't be living for much longer.

Even so, it is hard to know that I will never see her again. I feel older, somehow, now that I no longer have any living grandparents. There is a special place that only a grandparent can hold, I think. So perhaps I will adopt myself a new grandparent this year.

I am back in Nepal now after spending a week with my mother, taking her to my home and some of my favorite places here. We celebrated her birthday at a Hindu pilgrimage spot, the largest (and arguably more beautiful) Buddhist stupa in the world, and eating a traditional Nepali dinner with my friend and his family in his one room home that houses 4.

The end of the evening was a bit rushed, as load shedding was imminent, and we were attentive to the dishes and homework that needed to be finished before the lights went out 45 minutes later. We were also grateful to get back to the comfort and heat of the hotel room.

Our travel back to Kathmandu after visiting Hetauda was one of the more uncomfortable (physically) trips I’ve taken. But the view of the setting sun against the Himalayas was the most beautiful I’ve seen in the year I’ve been here. It’s not often that we get to see the full range of the Himalayas stretched out, as if in a circle surrounding us. They are so often hidden in the clouds or the smog of the city.

Kathmandu greeted us with true chaos when we arrived by dark as everyone was celebrating the Gurung New Year December 30th...the first New Year of many here. The streets were chaotic and full, the traffic was challenging, and we were exhausted from travel. In my haste to get back to the hotel room and some peace I left a bag in the taxi that had my camera, jacket, favourite earrings, laptop *and* my back up pen drives of my information.

I waited for a couple of hours to see if the taxi driver was kind enough to realize the magnitude of what I had lost. Not just financially, but more than anything, my creative and personal work: photos from my whole year in Nepal, work documents that I had compiled, communication kept with care.

Intuitively I knew he wouldn’t come back, though. In one of the poorest countries of the world, a night that was already hectic and crazy and where he could whisk into the darkness so easily, he would be thinking of his family and loved ones, and not me. In some ways, I can’t blame him.

I miss my photographs the most. Snapshots of memories, people, moments, and insight into how I have viewed my world over the past year here.

So the new year has brought me a reminder that the nothing lasts forever. We have to take good care of what we have now. Our creations, and more importantly, our loved ones. Ourselves.

I have a perfect new netbook. It is light and small. And has a battery life of 7 hours that keeps me working an entertained through the long hours of load shedding that are now getting higher and higher. Soon it will be 16 hours a day without electricity.

I am back in my home, a sanctuary in this place that doesn’t quite feel like my true home yet. But also is familiar, and mine. And beautiful.

I am ready for 2011.

....to India

2010-12-11T11:54:00.000+05:30

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

2010-12-02T13:05:00.000+05:30

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

2010-11-19T19:33:00.000+05:30

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

2010-11-16T13:14:00.000+05:30

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

2010-11-13T15:38:00.000+05:30

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

2010-11-08T14:40:00.000+05:30

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:

2010-11-03T21:17:00.001+05:30

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

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

Tharu wedding ceremony

2010-10-28T08:09:00.001+05:30

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

2010-10-21T11:03:00.000+05:30

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...

2010-10-06T10:14:00.000+05:30

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

2010-10-04T15:26:00.000+05:30

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

2010-10-03T10:24:00.000+05:30

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 ~

2010-09-24T15:01:00.001+05:30

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

2010-09-20T14:40:00.000+05:30

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

2010-09-15T20:18:00.000+05:30

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

2010-09-15T20:10:00.002+05:30

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?

2010-09-02T17:17:00.000+05:30

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

2010-08-20T18:05:00.000+05:30

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!

2010-08-07T17:58:00.000+05:30

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

2010-07-29T14:57:00.000+05:30

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

Youth Art

2010-07-19T11:49:00.000+05:30

I am currently running two concurrent art workshops for an organization that works with child rights and welfare here in Nepal (Child Welfare Nepal). I do this in my off time from the office, usually on weekends. It is some of the best fun that I have here in Hetauda.

One program within the organization serves girls who have been rescued from circus work in India. They have been kidnapped, usually with promises of lucrative jobs and income back to their families from rural villages. Lies, of course. In reality, they are forced to work as laborers, entertainers, and sometimes prostitutes. When them come to this house/program they are between the ages of 16 and 18 and can't read or write, as they have never had the chance to be in school. The program at the home is 7 months long, teaches basic written Nepali, and trains them to be seamstresses so that they have a skill and way to earn money when they return to their villages.

Another program through the organization provides a place to live and access to schooling for girls who otherwise might otherwise be on the streets, susceptible to child labor, or wouldn't have access to school. 13 girls live and work together in a group home with a beautiful garden in a village called Sawrasoti about an hour tuk tuk ride and walk away from where I live.

They get up at 4:30 AM every day for morning meditation, clean, work on the land, and go to school together. My friends Jose, originally from Spain, and his Nepali wife, Anu, live with the girls in this simple home and help run the program along with a small Nepali staff.

I am doing a 'zine project with both groups (see below). The photo above was taken by one of the girls in Sawrasoti - the village home. The assignment I gave them was to take a photo that they felt represented as aspect of their life as a girl in Nepal.

More of their artwork to come in later posts!

'Zine: an abbreviation of the word fanzine, or magazine. It is a non-commercial self-published item, usually of minority interest, reproduced by photocopying (Wikepedia).

Bus ride to Birgunj

2010-07-12T16:47:00.000+05:30

Last weekend a group of us volunteers living in the same region converged in Birgunj, a town an hour and a half south of where I live. It is so far south that you can easily walk to the Indian border. Even though it’s not far from Hetauda, it has a completely different feel: both the town and the people. One of the volunteers living and working there, Samali, had invited us all (5 of us) to her place for lunch.

Constance joined Elijah and I in Hetauda and we left early in the morning on the bus. The bus ride to Birgunj was pretty awful. Traveling on the busses here is one of the hardest things for me. First, there was a man who refused to let Constance sit in the empty seat next to him. He was reserving the seat for his friend, he said. A total lie, which was obvious to all of us. I would have never experienced this as a white foreigner: it is because Constance is black. And it doesn’t happen just sometimes – this is the norm on buses. Ask any of the African volunteers here.

I was pissed. I am used to racism. I see it all the time in the US. We have institutionalized racism. Sometimes overt. Often covert. But usually people who are racist are trained enough to at least pretend they aren’t. It was shocking and angering to me to see my friend so directly discriminated against.

Plus, the busses just aren’t comfortable. You have to crowd in so close to others, knees smashed up against the seat in front of you. It’s not always clear when there will be restroom breaks, though the bus does, indeed, stop at the side of the road from time to time and everyone heads for the forest. Also no such thing as air conditioning in the buses – it is hot here right now.

We entertained ourselves for the first part of the ride by playing games on the bus, singing songs (quietly), and chatting. But the last hour we just grimly sat through, all energy lost for anything other than just surviving the moment.

Visiting with Samali, as well as a Irish/English couple, George and Sheila, from the UK was just what the doctor ordered. I had been in some serious need of relaxing and hanging out time with a group of volunteers: processing our experience, our challenges, what we are learning, the good parts. And Samali’s food was impressive. I have only learned to cook about 15% of the food she has figured out how to cook here with what is local and a two ring burner stove.

As it started to get dark Elijah and I, somewhat reluctantly, headed back to the bus for the trip home, leaving Constance with Samali for a couple days of catching up. After chuckling at the several minutes worth of stares that we got from the folks sitting on the bus (not so many foreigners ever make it to Birgunj, apparently), we settled into the back seats surrounded on both sides by women with large bags of…something. Looked like grains, perhaps. And some seemed to have clothes in them.

The women put the bags of grains carefully on the floor and then placed their feet on the bags, so that – in effect – you couldn’t see there was anything there. The bags of clothes they held on their laps. I didn’t make anything of it at all. But Elijah knew picked up on what was happening. These women were smuggling goods from India.

Our bus was stopped and searched five times along the way by the police. Yes, 5 times. And no one batted an eye. This seemed the most normal thing in the world. Which, I think, it was, as it was evening, and because of the starting location of the bus.

The police seemed to know these women. They knew just where to go and where to look. They asked them questions about what they were carrying, used flashlights to search the floor. Somehow not searching hard enough to see the huge bags of grains under their feet.

I’m not sure if the police just didn’t care so much that night, or if they regularly turn their heads other way, if two foreigners on the bus changed the scenario, or if these feisty women made a good enough case for themselves. Whatever the reason, the police did nothing. They demanded to know what they were hiding, and the women laughed and told them they were being silly- they had absolutely nothing.

Elijah and I were totally entertained by these women. They were loud and funny. They didn’t seem scared, but rather treated the scenario like a game, verbally bantering with the police.

They must have been at least a bit worried, though, because when the woman sitting next to us got up to leave, she gave us a huge smile and seemed relieved to have made it to her destination, still carrying her large bags.

This bus ride was the best bus ride I’ve taken in Nepal so far. The atmosphere on the bus was lively, the police checks provided some interesting entertainment (with just enough worry to make us wonder what might be in store), and I got an insight into a totally different side of Nepal.

I know, I know. Smuggling is supposed to be “wrong”. But I think that smuggling some grains and saris is – in the grand scheme of things – pretty small time business. And I fell in love with those women, bargaining with the police to just let them be. Laughing and smiling as they finished their trip. As we walked to our homes, Elijah and I smiled at their audacity and felt like we had just experienced our own little adventure. The evening’s bus ride, a much more pleasant one than in the morning.

Nepali Wedding

2010-07-02T11:05:00.000+05:30

From Top to Bottom:
(1) Old and New
(2) Pashupatinath Temple – wedding site
(3) Groom waiting on the couch for his bride. They met for the first time a week ago. Almost all wedding in Nepal are arranged marriages. Only a very few, modern couples opt for “love” marriages, instead. The younger people I talk to say that they are glad their parents arrange their marriages for them, as they are older and wiser and know much more about who is well suited for each other than they do.
(4) Hindu priests preparing for one of the marriage rites
(5) New couple
(6) Family members come and wash the feet of the bride and groom, sometimes also drinking the water (depending on their family status).
(7) Family members giving “thikkas” to the bride and groom.
(8) Bride standing before her dowry. After the wedding, she officially belongs to her husband’s family.
(9) My neighbors. Aren’t they adorable?
(10) The night before the wedding the bridal party stay at home all day preparing elaborate Mendhi designs on each other’s hands, eating, and dancing.
(11) Girls from the bride’s side of the family steal a shoe from the groom while he is on the couch, and then demand compensation for returning the shoe – a tradition at weddings, apparently. Perhaps prompted in resistance to the money the bride’s family gives a groom’s family for the marriage…

Dancing in the kitchen...

2010-06-25T10:52:00.001+05:30

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

2010-06-22T11:25:00.000+05:30

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

2010-06-13T10:29:00.000+05:30

(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

2010-06-06T18:15:00.000+05:30

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

2010-06-02T17:26:00.000+05:30

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.

A Day in the Life of a VSO Volunteer

2010-05-21T21:52:00.000+05:30

Wake up
I am in Nepal
Landscapes of thikkas, mangoes, mantras, saturated colors, the unexpected, contemplated government overthrows.

If you have not eaten rice today you have not eaten.

I came here to do.
To act, to change, to learn, to ask, to help transform, to be transformed.

I am sitting in silence, however.
Watching surreptitious looks over newspapers. Unanswered questions. Wondering.

We are trying so hard to understand one another.
But my western assumptions are colliding with your eastern patience.
No matter. Learning happens through discomfort.

And anyways, I have found there is a lot that happens in the silent spaces.
Silence happens right before creation.
But I will not lie. It is unsettling to me against the din of my former life.

As unsettling as clumps of chickens hanging from bicycle handles and the
woman in the village who looks at me pleadingly.
Her husband has her under her thumb, she says. Her children don't have food to eat.
What can I do to help?

Lissim grabs my arm and smiles at me afterwards.
She also doesn't know what to do or say.
With her touch I am momentarily calmed.

I don't know where we go from here.
But I know we begin with listening, honoring suffering.
Then gathering forces.
Lissim's hand on my arm tells me she's invited me onto her team.

My thoughts about stillness, change, silence and action are interrupted.

Laundry needs to be washed.
Food needs to be bought and carefully prepared.
My dusty floors needs to be swept.
I could have visitors at any time.

Thich Nhat Hahn says that these tasks are also our spiritual work.
To be done well, consciously. As meditation.

I have been considering this.
I have plenty of time and opportunity to consider this.
Indeed, the water I wash my clothes with relaxes my mind easily and quickly.
For this I am grateful.

But I can't help but think that sometimes the laundry, floors, and washing of lentils can also be a diversion. I should be careful of diversions.

Tonight I will sleep early so I can be awake for the noises of the morning.
I have given up my natural rhythm of going to be late and sleeping in late not without a fight.
But have learned - in the spirit of following the path of least resistance - to welcome the sounds of people starting their day.

Chanting, chopping, washing, playing, spitting, cleansing, cleansing, ringing, praying, working. Working.
These noises come early, quickly, and loudly here.

The rest is welcome,
the moon in the night sky is calling me to her.
I secretly hope for thunder and rain and puddles on the floor tonight as I fall asleep.

I need all the rest I can get anyways.
I have to be prepared for whatever will come tomorrow...

Sitting silent, watching, learning, planning my next move.
Thinking about how to balance flexibility with consistency of action and purpose.
It takes all the energy and focus I have.
And this must be what I came for.

Brian's blog posts about Nepal

2010-05-13T15:39:00.000+05:30

Check it out!

http://brianrhyolite.blogspot.com

Photo above by Brian. The trucks here are all painted fabulously. Typical truck art: Speed King. Off Road Warrior. Speed Kills. And the most hilarious? Don't love me, love hurts. Written in big, beautiful lettering on the back of the truck.

20 minutes

2010-05-07T21:39:00.000+05:30

Day 6 of strike.

9:15 pm on Friday, May 07. Email received from the US Embassy in Nepal. Email reads:

Large demonstrations and traffic disruptions continue to occur around Kathmandu and throughout the country. These strikes have been successful in completely shutting down vehicular movement and businesses. As of May 7, 2010, the political situation remains deadlocked and we are unable to predict when the strike will conclude.

Supplies are running short and travel has been disrupted throughout the country. Businesses and public transport have been severely affected.

U.S. citizens are encouraged to stock adequate supplies of water, food, fuel, money and medication.

9:35 pm on Friday, May 07. SMS received from the VSO emergency mobile. SMS reads:

Good news. Strike called off!

I am jumping up and down right now. Really. But only for a second...off to write Brian an email to figure out how we can find a way to meet up in the next couple of days. The torrential downpours that have come with the thunder storms in the last two days have made the dirt roads between here and Kathmandu difficult to navigate, I believe. That seems like a such a small challenge at this point, however.

I have enjoyed these last days the best I have been able. I soaked in having all the time I needed for exercise, cooking, hanging out with friends, reading, watching episodes of LOST, relaxed time at work, and reflection.

There is something to be said for freedom, nonetheless. Freedom of movement, freedom from fear of potential violence and curfews, freedom to buy food whenever I need food, freedom to be busy if I want to be busy, and the freedom to think forward and make plans.

Freedom. Not something to be taken for granted.

Day 3 of nationwide strike

2010-05-04T12:59:00.001+05:30

Today the calm here in Hetauda is starting to feel very unnatural.

The first day of the strike felt so peaceful to me. It was a Sunday – a day I normally associate with a day at home, a day of rest and spending time with friends. So, for me, it was natural to stay at home all day cooking, cleaning, and visiting with the one other VSO volunteer here in Hetauda, Elijah. I enjoyed that there was no traffic on the streets at all. Just kids playing, and a few people singing here and there as they did the laundry, chanting as they did puja (prayers).

And I enjoyed that the Maoist protests were accompanied by song and dance.

The peace that I experience on the streets here now, however, 3 days into the indefinite strike, has a different feeling. It is contained by violence. The violence of control, and the increasing worry that people’s basic needs will not be met. Or met at a great cost.

The farmers today in Chittwan, my neighboring district, dumped millions of rupees worth of vegetables into the streets, allowing them to sit and rot. They are not able to sell any of their fruits and vegetables, due to not being able to transport them. This is in a nation that is one of (economically only) one poorest in the world.

Meanwhile, the only vegetables in Kathmandu right now are near-rotten. And very few. Most vegetable shops aren’t open any more, even though shops selling “essential” items have been allowed to open between 6:00 and 8:00 pm every day.
Many of the Maoist cadres have become sick with diarrhea. No joke in a country where diarrhea kills hundreds of people every year (usually children). The doctors report that the diarrhea has been caused by the lack of clean drinking water and an increase in temperatures.

Some Maoists are leaving for home. They are walking….however long it takes.

There has been some violence today. A dairy in one district was smashed and beaten , despite the fact that it was supposed to be allowed to remain open, since it sells milk. A man who works for the television station was beaten. It’s supposed to get worse tomorrow.

Brian is now coming down from the peak of the mountain. I have no way of getting in touch with him, but imagine that he knows what is going on from his guides and local villagers. If everything went according to plan, he should have reached the summit a couple of days ago, and is to return to Kathmandu on Friday. He will return to a different city than he left at the beginning of his trip.

I hope the strike has ended by then and that he can travel freely. I am worried that if the strike lasts, I will not be able to see him before he has to leave the country. I try not to dwell on this possibility for long, however.

I want to post this while I am able, so will end this here. But before I go, I make a request: send thoughts of peace and well being for the people of Nepal. In whatever way you feel comfortable. Especially the farmers, the dairy workers, the journalists, the teachers, the children, the mothers, the workers, and the youth…

Another side of Nepal

2010-04-27T21:23:00.000+05:30

For the last couple of days I have been preparing myself (mostly mentally – travel + heat) for a trip to Dang, a region in Nepal very close to the Indian border. Dang is a day’s bus ride away from where I’m at and my organization has an office there. I hear it is beautiful there.

I was planning to spend a few days getting to know the staff, the office, and the programs. I’ve been feeling excited about going somewhere new again, and learning more about COSAN’s work with rural women in this area.

I received word today that my trip is cancelled, however – indefinitely for the moment – because of a banda (strike) that is planned for May 1st. It could be a relatively peaceful day long strike. Or it could be three weeks. We’ve been advised to stock up on food, just in case.

It’s a tenuous and critical time in Nepal politics right now. For folks who don’t know, Nepal was a Hindu kingdom for thousands and thousands of years and is only recently has adopted a secular government. The first free elections in Nepal were held in May of 1991, and there have been struggles for power and stability since. One of the main contenders for power over time has been the Maoist party, which currently holds seats within the parliament, but is also threatening a general governmental take-over.

The current government is under the wire right now to meet a deadline for the creation of Nepal’s constitution. The thinking is that if this constitution is drafted, there is a chance for real longer-term peace and some stability in Nepal. Or at least movement in that direction. But while anything could happen (and I’ve seen incredible things happen last minute here Nepal), the general sentiment seems to be that people believe the government won’t meet this deadline. And if they don’t, it’s hard to know what will happen.

I hear snippets of opinions and thoughts here and there about the political situation, but generally shy away from talking anything remotely political. For two reasons. One, VSO discourages (to put it lightly) volunteers from talking politics with anyone (for several good reasons). Second, I don’t have a firm grasp on the historical and current political situation here. Who is who, what is what. I feel like it is wise for me to generally just be quiet and watch how things unfold, gathering information how I can from the papers, the internet, and every once-in-awhile, from a friend who works for the UN. They are also careful what they share, though, of course.

It is hard for me to convey what it is like to live in a country where there are such frequent strikes, in combination with a general threat of strike at any time. Ironically, a strike day often means a day of quiet and peace. At least for me. Banda directly translates to closed. Everything just shuts down. There is absolutely no travel on roads allowed. Nobody, nowhere. Unless you are an ambulance. All stores and shops are closed. No restaurants. No shopping for food. The streets are totally quiet. Everyone stays home. Unless you can walk to work or bicycle to work, and if that is the case, you can go to work. Obviously, it’s hard on businesses.

While I generally envision strikes as peaceful days, here and there I encounter whiffs of violence. Some of my friends were in a café one day and were unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time, for instance. They got quite a scare when all the windows were smashed in by a group of young men with baseball bats. But were all luckily just fine – if not a bit shook up afterwards.

And when Brian and I were traveling back from our trekking trip to Kathmandu we watched the Energy Minister (so we were told) pass by on the road. Followed by a group of Maoists (not a homogenous group, by the way, a point I should make right here) running, waving black flags, and throwing rocks at the vehicle. Followed very closely by the police chasing right behind them. It was quite a sight.

I should mention at this point, however, that the only way to be unsafe during a strike is to a) enter into a big, angry crowd, b) to drive your car on the roads (it will likely get set on fire) or c) to have your business open when it’s supposed to be shut.

Since I walk and bike everywhere, live in a town that is known for being peaceful and safe, and don’t ever see angry crowds (let alone walk into them), strikes for me (and most) are just inconvenience.

There’s a strike somewhere, for something, almost every day in Nepal. Not always the Maoists, but often. I read a statistic that – out of 365 days last year – there were something like 357 days of strikes in 2009. While I can’t remember the exact number, I really am not exaggerating. While many of the strikes don’t affect the whole population (currently, for instance, all private schools in the area are shut by the Maoists for at least several days, because of disagreements about tuition raises), there are plenty of days when there are country- wide strikes.

People are nervous right now. It’s not am open topic of conversation in the Nepali circles I run in, but I can feel the nervousness. I can feel the anticipation of not knowing what is going to happen as the government approaches it’s big deadline. And I can feel that most people are worried about how it will go.

In the coming days I will prepare for a longer strike, just in case it happens. But, as I have experienced several times already, the strike could just as easily be short and quick, or be called off all together (even that morning). We’ll see. I, personally, am hoping for a simple, one day strike. That way, I can still travel to Dang next week, just in time to make it there before the rainy season starts…

Symbols of Buddhism in Langtang Valley, Nepal

2010-04-23T11:12:00.000+05:30

From top to bottom:

1) Rocks piled carefully one upon the other.
2) Writing in a stone: each stone in sometimes small, sometimes long walls had intricately carved writings. Om Mane Padme Hum was most common. Sometimes there were circles that are representative of the life cycle. Sometimes a buddha figure. One walks around these walls clockwise - to the left as you walking up or down the mountain.
3) Large view of wall with stones
4) Prayer wheel within a small water hut that generates a small amount of electricity, I believe.
5) Water hut
6) Burial ground of the people from this region. People are buried beneath piles of stones.
7) Prayer flag pole. Prayer flags were everywhere. And often on hillsides that were far above any place I could imagine getting to myself.
8) Chorten above the monastery. We only saw two monasteries on our trip, but many chortens - a place for prayer and reflection.
9) Chorten along the way - with mountains in the background.
10) Tantric buddhism. Found in a beautiful stone altar to the side of the path on our first day of trekking just above the river.

At 4,600 meters

2010-04-20T09:05:00.000+05:30

Right now I am sitting in my kitchen in Hetauda. Which is only at 500 meters. There is thunder and lightning outside. And it isn't raining, but the air is so thick that - even though it's only about 70 degrees outside - I have to keep my shawl close by so that I can wipe the sweat off my forehead every few minutes.

At some point this evening it will rain, and even though just for a bit, it will come fast and furious. It is like the land and sky here is preparing for the big rains to come. Slowly working up to the monsoon. The long shawls that belong to the kurtas here seem superfluous in the heat, until I realized how useful they are when I am sweating (and I'm certainly not the only one).

It is the 5th night in a week we've had thunder storms. I absolutely love thunder storms. I have this vivid memory of first moving to Eugene for graduate school and being new, and alone, in my apartment. One of the first nights I was there I was visited by a huge thunder storm. I sat in the living room working on an art project for hours, just watching the sky, thinking that it seems appropriate that thunder and lightning accompany big change.

Last night I had dinner with my Hetauda Nepali family, feeling frustrated again that my conversations are inhibited how much Nepali I know. So, after signing myself up for language classes today, I'm celebrating with Omar Faruk Tekbelek, some of my favorite music from home, and pancakes. My parents used to bake pancakes on our heated wood stove when I was little. They are comfort to me tonight.

I have several interesting pictures from my trip to Langtang Valley, so I figure that I'll post them a few at a time with some stories.

At first, I considered starting at the beginning. But in a way, the top is the beginning. The destination the start of the trip.

I made it up to 4,600 meters (15,200 feet), which, for me, is both higher than I've ever been before in my life, as well as higher than I ever imagined I'd make it to - even two weeks ago.

Our trek followed the Langtang river along a valley - and up, and up. We started around 1,400 meters with forest, rhododendrons, and monkeys. Ended up - well - here. At an ancient and very-much-in-use monastery just a few miles from the Tibet border. The monestary sits surrounded by rocks, horses, yaks, and peaks on all sides. Brian and I made it up one peak on our fourth day of the trek. The picture with the mountains and the river (at the very bottom) was taken along the way up just after 5:00 in the morning. Early starts are good, as the wind picks up something fierce in the afternoons.

Entering the monastery felt like entering into a swirling circle of prayers, hopes, dreams, focus, intention, anger followed by release, frustration followed by peace. Candles to carry what was most important to the visitor as she placed what was most precious or weighing in her mind. And paintings that felt so sacred there was no way I even dared to ask if it was okay to take pictures. They were intricate, explicit, light and dark, vibrant, of this world and other worlds, complex. The stones that made up the building protected the space by the harsh winds up so high.

Being in this place I felt like I was somewhere truly different, foreign. As in a place that I have never, ever been before and could have never imagined or dreamed up no matter how I could have tried. Maybe it was the flocks of birds that were so close to us. Or the circles of stones - either to shelter a small crop from wind and animals, or as a base for a house that will be inhabited at a later time this year. I think it was the stones that make up the mountain, the cold from the wind that isn't forgiving, the difficulty of taking in breath. The stones, they have a different feel, they house old stories. Stories I've never heard before.

It seemed that - for me - I was welcome here in this place for 2 days only. After visiting the peak and the monastery I was happy to move back down. Back to trees, to water, to full breaths. Brian got altitude sickness pretty bad. He threw up four times our second night at the top after going to the peak. I didn't feel great myself, but was okay.

What an amazing experience to do something I never imagine I could have. To put one foot in front of the other, moving towards the altar at the top of the mountain, moving quicker than I thought I could have, with more determination than I thought I had, and with more ease than I had anticipated.

Funny that it's sometimes the things I think will be easy that can be the hardest. And the things I think will be hardest or impossible that come to me with ease when I least expect it.

In the time it took me to write this, the rains did, indeed, come. And I have a light show outside since the electricity has also gone out. And so I transport myself mentally back down to this elevation, breathing in the warm air, the relief of the rain finally giving in after it has been building all day...

Back in Hetauda

2010-04-18T13:46:00.000+05:30

Arrived back in Hetauda a few days ago after an amazing trek and some work in Kathmandu at my organization's central office.

It is taking me some time to go through the pictures from Langtang (and to find an internet connection that can upload them), so those pictures to come.

In the meantime, a few pictures from Hetauda. The shopping market (I buy everything on the street and in tiny shops), my dhera (apartment - second floor of the building), a buddhist monastery that I found close to my house (second picture is with Brian and my Hetauda friend, Bikram, who is an amazing artist), and my office (COSAN).

Brian has survived the heat, the busy main street of Hetauda, a dose of getting sick, and the experience of shopping here. It helps that my apartment is large and beautiful- a good place to rest after a day of listening to a foreign language and having everyone in town stare at you. He is off to Kathmandu this morning for his climb up a 6,000 meter peak (Island Peak) near the Everest region. Whew!

2 weeks in short and sometimes fragmented sentences

2010-04-03T21:38:00.000+05:30

above: Milk Baba. Survived 16 years (If I remember right) on milk and water and air alone.

leaving tomorrow AM with a guide and a porter for 8 days of trekking in the Nepal mountains.

tomorrow's bus ride is 9 hours, up steep hills, corners, and on dusty roads.

i will go trekking for the first time, testing my own personal limits of comfort in many ways.

but not to get ahead of myself...

have a new dhera (apartment).

my mom says it looks like our apartment in greece. and i think she is right, especially the color is a greek blue. of people who live close to the water.

i can go on the rooftop to dry my laundry now. this bring more joy than i would have thought.

asked the family who lives below me to water the 19 plants that will keep me company while i'm here in kathmandu and trekking.

i don't know that i should have asked them to do a favor as i am just getting to know them.

but couldn't bear the thought of the plants dying while i was away. it is hot in hetauda right now. very hot.

and dusty.

we had a freak hail storm the other evening.

a ball of hail as large as a penny hit me on the head. it didn't hurt for too long, though.

the rain and thunder were so welcome. transformed. cleansed. gave me just the tiniest window of insight into what it might be like when the big rains come and i have to roll up my pants and wade through water to my calves to get to work.

it was harder to say goodbye to the family i was staying with than i thought. because i have been looking forward to my own place and some independence for so long.

no more art afternoons with nesa, though. and no more meals with a family.

food should always - whenever possible - be shared with others.

brian arrived in kathmandu two days ago. it is fun for me to share my world with an old, good, close friend.

it is good for me to see things anew again through his eyes.

the seemingly apocalyptic chaos of this city until you surrender to a new sense of order and understanding.

the blissful feeling of being in a place where the spiritual is alive, real, and part of everyday life.

song. nepali head nods. chiyaa. the satisfaction of a good negotiation. the horror of the trash in the river. and the realization that people live in the trash by the river. the beautiful, hanging cedar trees. the bright clothes that the women wear. the lack of any show of anger.

i am 34 now.

and, last, but not least, wow, the gratitude i have for being around other VSO volunteers when i have the opportunity. a shared understanding of what it is to make this place a home. to be both insider and outsider. to know that we will return to our homes new people, transformed by something we have seen and experienced.

i love the opportunity over and over again to be at a table with people fighting for justice, equality, what is healing. maybe also needing a chance to start a few things new, maybe needing to learn and grow and understand. the hunger for a bit more freedom...

pictures from langtang valley when i return.

Sari photo session!

2010-03-22T14:38:00.000+05:30

The Nepali family that I am currently staying with (until the apartment I will be living in longer term opens up this weekend) really wanted to dress me in a sari this weekend. I very happily complied. I mean, beautiful fabric and elegance? I love it. Especially after all of the travel clothing that I have been wearing.

The two younger, adorable girls are helpers in the house. Nesa and Salpana. I have enjoyed being around them more than I can explain. I swear their smiles and games often keep me sane.

And my host family is fabulous. I am eating better than I ever have, I think. They spend a lot of time together, laugh a lot, and put up with my requests for boiled water and to sleep in during the mornings (they get up around 5:45 AM - no way!) with a lot of grace and kindness.

Trip to the village! And me in a Kurta

2010-03-18T17:12:00.000+05:30

Just a couple of pictures to share from a trip to the village to observe 2 of my cowokers doing a disability rights awareness training for 30 local villagers.

Top photo: Me in local Nepali wear!
Photo #2: This is a close up of the bridge that I am standing on
Photo #3: Local village disablity advocate (front) and my coworker/trainer, Nawaraj Ji, back
Photo #4: Participants in the training

Yesterday I took a minivan trip from Hetauda to a local VDC (Village Development Committee) area. About 30 minutes away. Then walked about 20 minutes to where my coworkers were holding their training - over a river and a very simply built bridge that is far under water during the rainy/monsoon season.

This village area is known locally for the vegetables that they grow. Lots of the cauliflower that I eat every day comes from here.

International Women's Day 2010

2010-03-16T09:16:00.000+05:30

I’ve done a lot of thinking about gender issues in my lifetime. Through the lens of personal experience, academically while studying folklore and anthropology in graduate school, and through years of community work and programming, much of which has been with a focus on supporting young women, in particular.

I’m not sure I’ve thought and felt as intensely about gender, however, as I have in the last four months I have been in Nepal. Roles and expectations of women’s roles are quite well defined here, though in the bigger cities you can see a younger generation that is questioning these roles.

I imagine that for some people there is a lot of comfort and good in these defined roles. Nepal has less than a 3% divorce rate, family ties are extremely tight, and bonds between women are strong.

There are some bleak statistics and stories I’ve heard and witness here, as well, however. For instance, it assumed that about one third of women experience physical violence in their lives in Nepal. My coworker shared a statistic she found in the newspaper stating that 89% experience psychological/emotional violence.

The other day newspaper headlines included, “More Siraha Women Face Witchcraft Charges”, and “Cases Against ‘Cheating Wives’ On the Rise”. Seems that, even though prostitution is common enough that it is a serious problem in some cities, an indication that at least a good number of married men are not faithful to their wives, a woman who has an affair is something that can make the national newspaper. And in some regions in Nepal, women who have just given birth are put in the cowshed directly afterwards for over a week as they are considered unclean.

The story about witchcraft hit a particular nerve for me, as here – at least – it’s not really about witchcraft as magic or belief system, but rather about intense caste discrimination with witchcraft as the back drop. In this particular case, a woman from the lowest caste (dalit) was accused of killing her father-in-law who had been sick for a long time and died. She was dragged through the streets of the village, forced to eat feces, and has been totally excluded from the community. As we know, accusations of witchcraft, for at least hundreds of years (if not longer), has been used as a powerful tool to discriminate against women and to perpetuate violence and hatred.

Gender disparities in Nepal have also come into my life in a very personal way, as well. I am currently staying with a (wonderful) Nepali family who has taken me into their home until my apartment opens up in a couple of weeks. They have a helper in their home, a young girl who helps with the cleaning. In this context, taking a helper into their home is their way of taking care of girl who lives in poverty and offering her an education that she would not otherwise have.
When I returned from Kathmandu yesterday there was a new girl who had arrived. Her parents, however, won’t allow her to go to school, even though the family I stay with would pay for her schooling. She is 9 years old.

In this place of witnessing gender violence – in the many forms in which it comes – I was grateful to be able to celebrate International Women’s Day with thoughtful, conscious, committed Nepali individuals: youth, activists, government officials, lawyers. And other VSO volunteers.

I helped to lead and facilitate a 3 day workshop on Gender and Inclusion in the Workplace last week with a great team of folks, and it ended up being quite successful, despite the fact that much of it was planned last minute. Maybe there is something to be said for the creativity and flexibility and deadlines, though really, I know it was because of the stellar team we had putting it together. We incorporated song and dance, local leaders and activists, perspectives from 3rd gender participants, film, time for reflection, planning and networking. It was re-energizing for me to be around others who are actively participating in positive change. To be around all sorts of women and men really thinking about how to bring more equity into their personal lives, workplaces, and communities. Even more energizing to see just how large the group was.

My friend Jimmy, from Uganda, gave his female friends chocolate for Women’s Day. My friend, Donald, from the Phillipines threw a party for our volunteer group to celebrate Women’s Day. And my friend, Wanet, also from the Phillipines, found beautiful bookmarks that she gave to everyone in honor of Women’s Day. I’ve never done too much in my own past to celebrate International Women’s Day. I have a feeling that I will in the future, however.

I figure that the only weapon against violence and discrimination is awareness, love, education. And remembering and honoring what is sacred. In whatever way you can – with parties, chocolate, bookmarks, dance, and song…..and other kindred spirits. How wonderful to be surrounded by kindred spirits.

Village visit

2010-02-23T11:01:00.000+05:30

Last week I traveled to a small village north of here with my coworker, Raju, who is a physical therapist and disability rights trainer and advocate.

We took a bus four hours to the north. Luckily, someone had mentioned to me ahead of time that north of Hetauda means up. It went from 1500 feet in Hetauda to over 7,020 feet and got colder and colder accordingly. I had felt really self conscious about bringing two bags with me. My Nepali friends here travel extremely light- and think I’m pretty funny for bringing extra things. It’s not in my nature to travel light, however, I’ve decided. I can do it if I have to, but I’d prefer not to whenever possible. And boy, was I glad I had brought that second bag with my sleeping bag in it. It ended up being my saving grace during this trip as the small guest house we stayed in was fresh out of blankets – and rooms for that matter. But my coworker found another woman who had a bed free in her room so I had somewhere to crash.

It is still a bit nerve-wracking for me to take trips to villages, as I think of myself at this point in my life as a city girl. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around village living.

The hardest part for me in the village was seeing the poverty and lack of resources. The small guesthouse we stayed in was run by a really kind man and his son, who was maybe 12. I couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t in school, but rather was washing the tables, bathrooms, and helping to cook all day. I am sure that if they’d had the money and the option, he would have been.

The view of the mountains in the village was like nothing I’ve ever seen before here. They felt so large and small at the same time, close enough that I could feel them. Close enough to feel like if I closed my eyes and flew I could transport myself right over the valley and to them. Far enough that I didn’t sense the danger, remoteness or intense cold that mountains that is also part of mountains.
I felt absolute happiness in that moment and couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Time just stopped…

I’m learning to live with deep sadness and happiness coexisting here in Nepal.

We were in the village to facilitate a day long leadership training on advocating for disability rights with the central spokespersons of the village. At one point I was panicked about having to actually facilitate a portion of the day – in my broken Nepali (so very basic still) and my English, and my American-city worldview and experience. Luckily, the training started 3 hours late, and therefore I was off the hook. I was able to just watch and listen. Raju did a fabulous job facilitating – he is well loved in the village, and for good reason.

In the evening, Raju gave a wheelchair to a man who’d been having to walk on crutches everywhere. For a long time, I imagine. This was a big event in the village. Everyone who was around (and I mean everyone) crowded around to see the wheelchair, and to watch Raju give instructions on how to use it. This lasted easily a half hour- and no one strayed.

I felt more comfortable watching the mountains and headed off to catch a few pictures.

We left on the 3rd day early in the morning and had an uneventful bus ride back. I was quiet most of the way – just taking in the experience, resting, and enjoying some good Nepali snacks along the way.

The unexpected

2010-02-10T14:56:00.002+05:30

So, one of the things that I’ve come to expect in Nepal is the unexpected.

It has taken me a long time to get to this place. Because, in the first months, of course you expected the unexpected. You just do. When you’re in a new country and culture in a whole different part of the world.

But I figured that at some point things would kind of settle in to a routine or sense of order. This is my experience of the world in the past. Things might be really confusing in the beginning, but they sort themselves out eventually. And almost 3 months is long enough, right? So, I expected the unexpected, but expected that things would change….

This all sounds a bit trite (and perhaps confusing) when you see it in writing. People say these things, right? “Expect the unexpected.” And they start to lose meaning.

But I *experience* this every day here. This is what I am trying to tell you. I *experience* things that I could have never, ever could have foreseen. All the time. So often, that I’m starting to plan for it. (Yes….I am still very attached to this idea of planning. Something that – turns out – seems to be a bit of a Western way of thinking.) I’m starting to realize that it’s not going to go away.
And how does one plan for the unexpected? I don’t really know. I’m working on that. If you have tips, I am very open to them. Easier said than done, I tell you. But, it has something to do with planning on not ever really making plans. Yep. Or never thinking that I know how things are going to go. Or how I’m going to react to something. Or how someone will react to me. Or what I will see or experience in any given day…

Today, it was the rain that came and surprised me.

I have only experienced rain one other time since I have arrived, and that was the very first day that I came. And that day somehow doesn’t seem to really feel like it counts. It was an upsidedown day for me, because I had complete culture shock, was living in a time zone almost completely opposite of my home, and had this surreal experience of being routed temporarily to a “safe” hotel, because of the (very large and semi-violent) strike that was taking place. That day was more like a hazy (kind of stressful) dream.

Every day since then I’ve woken up and it’s been sunny. People from the northwest – can you imagine? It’s fabulous for me, since I’m not a farmer or someone managing a hydro-electric dam. Think of it. Vitamin D – all sorts of it. And never ever do I think about getting wet going from one place to the other. Hadn’t even considered packing a rain jacket or anything of the sort on this trip to Kathmandu. And this lack of anticipating rain presented kind of a challenge since today I had to travel back to Hetauda.

So, I got a bit wet along with everyone else and was slightly uncomfortable about my luggage on the rooftop that was (almost) covered by a piece of plastic as we drove 5 hours in the pouring rain. More than being uncomfortable, however, I realized how truly happy I was to see the rain. Rain is comfortable to me. It is home. I know rain. It is cleansing. It washes away things we don’t want any more. Like dust. And old thoughts that don’t really make us happy any more. It makes things grow, brings life to the earth. I feel cozy in the rain.

And today I felt cozy, too, actually happy that the jeep is so packed that I couldn’t sit against the back of my seat.

So, I made it safely to Hetauda. A bit damp, and with a very small backache, but incredibly happy to finally start making a life for myself here after living in hotels and various other sundry places for the last three months.

A few of my clothes of clothes from my suitcase got really wet, but they’re hanging to dry and will be just fine. And a bunch of my papers are ruined, but luckily they are papers I have on CD and can reprint another time. I figure in the grand scheme of things, a small price to pay for both the rain today, and the realization of how great it’s been to depend so much sun these last few months.

And tomorrow? Who knows….one step at a time these days.

The unexpected

2010-02-10T14:56:00.001+05:30

So, one of the things that I’ve come to expect in Nepal is the unexpected.
It has taken me a long time to get to this place. Because, in the first months, of course you expected the unexpected. You just do. When you’re in a new country and culture in a whole different part of the world.
But I figured that at some point things would kind of settle in to a routine or sense of order. This is my experience of the world in the past. Things might be really confusing in the beginning, but they sort themselves out eventually. And almost 3 months is long enough, right? So, I expected the unexpected, but expected that things would change….
This all sounds a bit trite (and perhaps confusing) when you see it in writing. People say these things, right? “Expect the unexpected.” And they start to lose meaning.
But I *experience* this every day here. This is what I am trying to tell you. I *experience* things that I could have never, ever could have foreseen. All the time. So often, that I’m starting to plan for it. (Yes….I am still very attached to this idea of planning. Something that – turns out – seems to be a bit of a Western way of thinking.) I’m starting to realize that it’s not going to go away.
And how does one plan for the unexpected? I don’t really know. I’m working on that. If you have tips, I am very open to them. Easier said than done, I tell you. But, it has something to do with planning on not ever really making plans. Yep. Or never thinking that I know how things are going to go. Or how I’m going to react to something. Or how someone will react to me. Or what I will see or experience in any given day…
Today, it was the rain that came and surprised me.
I have only experienced rain one other time since I have arrived, and that was the very first day that I came. And that day somehow doesn’t seem to really feel like it counts. It was an upsidedown day for me, because I had complete culture shock, was living in a time zone almost completely opposite of my home, and had this surreal experience of being routed temporarily to a “safe” hotel, because of the (very large and semi-violent) strike that was taking place. That day was more like a hazy (kind of stressful) dream.
Every day since then I’ve woken up and it’s been sunny. People from the northwest – can you imagine? It’s fabulous for me, since I’m not a farmer or someone managing a hydro-electric dam. Think of it. Vitamin D – all sorts of it. And never ever do I think about getting wet going from one place to the other. Hadn’t even considered packing a rain jacket or anything of the sort on this trip to Kathmandu. And this lack of anticipating rain presented kind of a challenge since today I had to travel back to Hetauda.
So, I got a bit wet along with everyone else and was slightly uncomfortable about my luggage on the rooftop that was (almost) covered by a piece of plastic as we drove 5 hours in the pouring rain. More than being uncomfortable, however, I realized how truly happy I was to see the rain. Rain is comfortable to me. It is home. I know rain. It is cleansing. It washes away things we don’t want any more. Like dust. And old thoughts that don’t really make us happy any more. It makes things grow, brings life to the earth. I feel cozy in the rain.
And today I felt cozy, too, actually happy that the jeep is so packed that I couldn’t sit against the back of my seat.
So, I made it safely to Hetauda. A bit damp, and with a very small backache, but incredibly happy to finally start making a life for myself here after living in hotels and various other sundry places for the last three months.
A few of my clothes of clothes from my suitcase got really wet, but they’re hanging to dry and will be just fine. And a bunch of my papers are ruined, but luckily they are papers I have on CD and can reprint another time. I figure in the grand scheme of things, a small price to pay for both the rain today, and the realization of how great it’s been to depend so much sun these last few months.
And tomorrow? Who knows….one step at a time these days.

Ah, Saturday. Ah, electricity.

2010-01-30T15:21:00.000+05:30

This morning I woke up to a big pot of tea and a wonderful conversation with a Visnja, a Croatian from Zagreb – the city that I fell in love with when I visited - a VSO volunteer that I met last night. This is one of the best things about traveling, I think. The people I get to meet, their stories and life experiences and perspectives they share. To be able to have an intimate, honest conversation with someone the first time you meet is rare. But when you are traveling, you know that you might not ever get to speak to this person again, so you should make the time count – to be real. The situation creates it’s own rules for engagement, I think. And – as someone who doesn’t find small talk fulfilling – I am always grateful to have good conversation wherever and however I can find this.

She has left, however, and right now I am enjoying 3 hours of blissful, uninterrupted electricity. I’m in my room lazily reading emails, and am enjoying hot tea and the knowledge that my computer is recharging itself. Interrupted only by street theatre outside my window- a creative way to gather a crowd and to maybe get a few rupees. The actors are stellar. Saturday is also my day to recharge. To sleep in a bit, think about what I need to do this weekend while I am still in Kathmandu, and to enjoy not having a schedule.

Last night I enjoyed a fabulous evening across town, at a place that felt worlds away. It was African night at a local restaurant that is run by Maria, from Ghana. She hosts these parties once every three months. They are famous at this point and it felt like every foreigner in Kathmandu must have been there. At least all of the Africans must have been… my friend, Peter, from Uganda – traveled 7 hours from where he lives just to attend.

There were perhaps 300 people at the restaurant – all outside and warmed by small fires scattered about. People from local NGOs, volunteers, UN staff, some expats who have settled here. African music all night. I think I only recognized a song or two all night. But my friends from Africa knew them all. It was so fun to see them hear a song that they loved, to get so excited and to run up to the dance floor. I enjoy watching how music connects us to memories, to one another, to joy, to a feeling of home, or perhaps the exotic.

The best part? They had injera bread!!! Anyone who knows me well knows how much I LOVE Ethiopian food, and injera bread. I couldn’t have been happier. A warm fire, injera bread, people absolutely enjoying each other’s company through music and dancing…. life is good. I know I must be getting acclimated to Nepal when a full dance floor after 9:00 pm and food other than daal baat feels really foreign.

It was also a nice way to celebrate ending the week – and finally having my placement get settled. For the last 2 ½ months there has been a question about whether my placement would get switched to be based here in Kathamandu working out of my organization’s head office instead of Hetauda. I was feeling pretty flexible about either outcome, as I can understand the interest in having me in either place. But not knowing where I would land and settle month after month has been wearing. At this point I’ve been living out of a suitcase, packing, repacking, packing for the last almost three months.

I miss my morning routines that seem to get disrupted, feeling settled in a place that is “my” home, and I really miss being able to shop and cook for myself.
It was decided that I will be living in Hetauda as my main base, and supporting the head office and other district offices from there. I feel like it is the best of both worlds. I’ll get to support the district offices and live in a sweet town, but will be working in close contact with the head office and everything that happens there, doing lots of travelling. So – two more weeks to enjoy Kathmandu and to think about what I can do here that I won’t be able to do in a small town for awhile. Pretty sure they don’t have African nights in Hetauda….

To Hetauda and back.

2010-01-23T16:32:00.000+05:30

So, I thought I'd be able to write a post with some pictures at some point while I was in Hetauda last week, but, no luck. Ke garne (what to do)? No access to the internet there until I get set up properly in a home, figure out the electricity schedules, or find a way to visit the internet cafes between work and getting home without having to walk in the dark.

I arrived back in Kathmandu today for a two-day conference and a meeting with my head office to decide if they will change my placement to be based in Kathmandu. But more on that at another time.

The ride here was an exciting four hour Jeep ride. Made more exciting by the fact that I shared the ride with 14 others. Yes, 14. There were 12 of us squeezed inside the Jeep, and when they couldn't squeeze in any more, 2 people jumped on top of the Jeep in the luggage rack. I have completely let go of any need for personal space here.

Most of the way we were on a lumpy, one-lane dirt road with some severe drop-offs to the side giving way to winding rivers in canyons and villages scattered along the way. Occasionally we had to share the road with cattle and goats, waiting for them to cross until we could continue. The man sitting next to me and the boy in front would touch their chest and head with their right hand (as people do here) every time we passed a temple. Which was often. Cell phones would ring every once in a while when we were in range, but generally everyone was quiet.

The silence seemed to be much more comfortable once I finally said a few words in Nepali and the driver and passengers were able to establish that I was a volunteer who was living in Nepal for a while. Maybe, because even if it's just a few words, knowing that you can communicate with someone and ask them a couple of questions makes all the difference.

I was glad that we passed only one jeep that had tumbled down the hillside. On the way to Hetauda several days earlier - which is considered the safer journey - we passed a total of 7 overturned buses. These accidents happen at night when people drive fast, often drunk. Daytime travel is the way to go here. And getting to know the right drivers, who can be amazingly skilled and safe if you know where to go.

My week in Hetauda was memorable. As memorable as my first week in Kathmandu when I came with such fresh eyes and such a different environment to get to know. And as memorable as my week in the village during our training course.

I love Hetauda. It is vibrant and city-like by day and quiet and village-like as soon as dark comes. There are no cars in Hetauda. Except for the few transport Jeeps. Just tuk tuks, motorbikes, bikes, an occasional large truck coming through, and (most of all) people walking by foot. My walk to work was 25 minutes along a dirt road from where I was staying just out of town with another volunteer until my placement location gets settled. I would usually pass a young boy around 6 herding a group of buffalo in the afternoons and a man carrying 25-30 chickens on his bike along the way, as well as many, many children walking to and from school.

In my week in Hetauda I found out where to buy oats (this took me three days of wandering around after work each day), I met the head of police (so they know who the foreigner in town is), met several folks in charge at the district education office, spent 4 days in the office getting to know the staff and their work, figured out how to read the electricity schedule in the daily newspaper, ate a Dosa (South Indian dish) for the first time, was invited in the future to two village homes for meals. A whirlwind, I tell you! Oh, I also spent a lot of time hanging out and chatting, drinking tea, making oatmeal and warming water for showers in the morning. And drinking tea. I learned a lot about the woman I was staying with, Doreen, who has had an amazing 68 years of life. A very wise and witty woman with more energy that I have these days, I think.

Now that I'm back in Kathmandu I am exhausted and happy after making it here today and after such a beautiful (albeit slightly uncomfortable) journey. Off now to my Kathmandu "home", Pacfic Guest House, to unpack and make myself at home here again for a few days. Maybe longer - we'll see!