Today I begin the long flight home…transiting through Bangkok and Los Angeles before arriving in Salt Lake City Monday afternoon.  I’ll re-cross the nternational Dateline and go back twelve hours in time…leaving on December 4^th and arriving in Los Angeles on December 4^th…which is pretty tricky given I will have been on an airplane for close to 24 hours.  It’s been a week of sadness, good-byes and tears.

Last Sunday, I made my way to the Tibetan camp for a round of good-byes with the elders we support with monthly food and shelter stipends.  We went from house to house, where we were offered tea, Tibetan bread and eggs.  We spoke about the projects that were completed and they each told me that they hang prayer flags in our names and light butter lamps on auspicious days in our honor. When it was time
to say good-bye, they placed a kata around my neck and we touched our foreheads together while touching hands.  They tucked bottles of soda in my bag and gave me prayer flags, incense; and bracelets and belts that they had woven to say thank you.

On Monday, I returned to the camp for my farewells with Pau Rhichoe and Pau Nyima…spending part of the morning with one before heading to the other’s home.  When it was time to say good-bye to Pau Rhichoe, he gifted me with a Tibetan carpet…and then hugged me…which started both of us crying.  I find myself watching him like I did with Pau Wangchuk…knowing that there won’t be many more years left with him and wanting to absorb his as much as possible.  I had my last bowl of delicious flat noodle soup at Pau Nyima’s before the final walk through the camp.  That evening, Bishnu’s brother Kamal invited me to his house for dinner.  Bel and I
wandered over for raksi, French fries and chow chow.

Tuesday I spent my final morning with Lobsang in her shop…calling out to the tourists to ‘please…come have a look…looking is free’.  The afternoon and Wednesday packing and putting my room into hibernation.  All the extended family
came by that evening for a good-bye party.  For me, the toughest time was Thursday morning…when I actually had to leave.  The family comes forward, one by one to put tikka on my forehead, a kata around my neck and flowers into my hand.  Bishnu was the first…and I started crying the moment she stepped forward.  She was followed by Bel, each of the daughters and son-in-laws, Grandmother and all of Bishnu’s  brothers, their wives and children.  As Laxman drove me towards the airport, he also started to cry.  We picked up Migmar on the way…and outside the gates to the airport, Guru and his family were waiting to also give kata’s and flowers.  The flight left early with clear weather all around.  Bishnu gave me a mineral water bottle containing her raksi so I could have an evening drink…and Bel called each evening to say cheers like we did each evening together.  I settled into the Tibet Guest House and made my rounds…visiting the Thanka Brothers, eating BK finger chips and pizza at
Fire and Ice.  Migmar and I did a final lunch on Friday and said good-bye.  The
next time we either talk or see each other will be on my side of the world.

It’s been such a wonderful visit…with so much accomplished.  I leave with a full heart.  I’ll send a quick message to let you know I made it safely home.

Love,

Sarah

This time next week, I’ll start making my way back stateside…beginning the long 24 hour journey home.  The longest leg is between Bangkok and Los Angeles…which will have me sitting on a plane for 18 hours.  Today and tomorrow, I’ll make my last rounds in the camp…and will spend one more day in Lobsang’s shop on Tuesday before flying to Kathmandu on Thursday.

A year ago I left during a time of great turmoil…and this year, although things are not so drastic, there is still concern and sadness.  Anil continues to battle his abdominal tuberculosis.  He is now five months into a six month course of medicine.  And because the medicine is so strong and the TB is located in his stomach, he has a hard time taking food.  He’s a skeleton.  When he is in real pain, he stops talking.  Not that he is able to say many words.  When he is feeling a bit better,
he’ll call out ‘Aama’ (mother), ‘Baba’ (father), ‘Phupu’ (me…auntie), ‘Didi’ (older sister) or ask me ‘Baba quoi?’ (where’s father) or ‘Aama quoi?’ (where’s mother).  On the days he goes silent, it’s difficult to watch.  He only moans in pain.  It’s a constant struggle to figure out what food to give him.  If he eats chicken or eggs, he has diarrhea.  He likes goat and fish, but they are not always readily available.  Sometimes we can get him to eat rice…and some days he only wants chow chow (the noodle dish I eat).  This past week, there were four days in a row when he ate well…so we were feeling optimistic.  But then on Wednesday, he started vomiting and by Thursday, he wasn’t taking any food again.  If you looked at his stomach, it looked like it was tied in knots.  I truly pray that when he is finished with the medicine, and the battle in his stomach is finished, he will be able to put his weight back on.  I don’t know how
much more Bishnu and Bel can take this.  And it breaks my heart to see them all is such pain.

Dhal Maya lives in the house adjoining Bel’s.  And is considered a relative because her village and Bel’s village are near to each other in the mountains.  When I arrived this year, it was to the news that her mother was very ill with cancer.   Whenever I would see her, she would say to me ‘Oh Nani, ma dheri birami chha’ (Oh little girl, I am very ill).  To which I would reply ‘Haas’ (a respectful acknowledgement of a statement…’hajur’ is a more familiar way to indicate you heard and understood).  On Tuesday, some of her relatives came down from the village and took her back up with them.  I awoke Wednesday morning to wailing.  When I came downstairs, it was
to the news that the mother had died.  Dhal Maya and her husband immediately left for the village to attend to the death rites.  Their son Naraj stayed behind because he has school.  The neighborhood is helping to take care of him and their goats…with Naraj going to different people’s homes for food and with friends staying with him each night.  When I saw him Wednesday, I told him how sad I was to hear the news.  And he bowed his head and cried.  He is one of the boys who frequently takes care of baby Saral.  And when he returned recently from a school trip to Lumbini (the birthplace of Buddha), he brought a special necklace for Anil.

Wednesday, I visited Pau Wangchuk’s son Trinley.  He always makes the most delicious ginger tea, bread and omelets.  As we were sitting there chatting, he started to cry.  He had received a call from his sister informing him that her 7 year old daughter was diagnosed with a liver problem…and that she will need surgery.  She was asking for help.  He said that she never asks for anything…and that he was feeling so guilty because when she finally did, he is unable to help.  Migmar and I tried to speak comforting words.  What a feeling of powerlessness.  I asked him to find out how much the surgery will cost…and to encourage her to talk to the people in charge in her Tibetan camp.  Hopefully, they will be able to find a way to make the surgery happen.

On the brighter side, Migmar and her son Chime were finally able to get their travel documents issued from the Nepali government.  It took about two weeks of going from place to place…being told no one was there and to come back the next day…being told they had the wrong information on the forms…asking to give bribes under the table.  But their perseverance paid off.  And they quickly sent the documents by DHL to the Canadian Embassy in Delhi.  They anticipate that all will be ready for them to immigrate in about a month’s time.  I had told Migmar, that instead of me bringing her something from the US…I would buy her and Chime each a suitcase as my gift this year.  She was afraid that if we did that before all the documents were completed, that it would jinx it.  Now that it is certain that she will go, we made our way to the main market to see what there was.  We found a shop that sold suitcases…and after looking them over, settled on a Samsonite.  Our plan was for us to go first together so I could help her pick out a good quality one…then she would return with Chime…without me…so they could really do some bargaining.  They now each have a nice piece to help them when they go.

Yesterday was Saral’s first birthday.  A year ago, she was born the day before I was
to leave.  I call her ‘Danger Girl’…because she truly has no fear.  Her mother Durga and I were on the roof hanging laundry, when we heard Bishnu downstairs calling for Saral.  When I came around the corner, there she was…sitting at the top of the stairs outside my room.  She had crawled all the way up on her own.  She is just starting to
walk.  Boy will that keep her mother on her toes.  For birthday celebrations, the birthday boy or girl sits on a chair and, one by one, the family comes forward to put tikka on his or her forehead.  Then there is cake.  Babita, Don Bahadur and Izane came mid-morning.  I spent part of the afternoon at Durga’s shop…watching as they bathed both Saral and Izane in a pan in front of the shop.  And I spent part of the afternoon sitting with Bishnu, Durga and Babita and they prepared all of the food.  It
brought up such a feeling of sadness…knowing I wouldn’t be around much longer to enjoy these women and their shared conversations.  Don Bahadur had come from his army base to only say good-bye to me…then quickly had to return.  That was quite a time commitment of travel on his part to wish me a safe journey.

In that amazing blend of ancient traditions, third world living conditions and modern sophistication…that is Nepal, the Thapa family had Dish Network install a satellite dish on their roof so they can watch television.  They had been subscribing to a cable network…but gradually, over this past year, they went from many channels down to just three.  And those did not come in very clearly.  Friday, the man arrived and there is now a huge dish on the pillar outside my room.  They now receive 50 channels for the cost of 250 rupees ($3) a month.  The challenge will be for Bel and Bishnu to learn how to use the new remote…and to figure out the menu for channels…since they don’t know how to read English.  Bel likes the news channels, Simran likes cartoon channels, Bishnu like the WWE wrestling channel, the daughters like the soap opera channels and I like the one that has CID…the India version of CSI.  I told Sangeeta that the good news is that there are now many channels…and the bad news is that there are now many channels.  If one sets the remote down, another will grab it and change the channel…even if it’s in the middle of a program everyone is watching…so if you don’t want your program interrupted, you hide the remote behind your back…LOL!

I made my way to Guru’s home on Friday morning with Bel for a last visit.  I watched him treat patients and work with an apprentice.  They fed me my noodle dish and raksi.  They say they will be standing outside of the airport gate on Thursday
for a final good-bye.  Thursday morning will be painful.  All of the neighborhood and relatives will come with flower mallas and katas to put around my neck and to put tikka on my forehead.  Lobsang will wander over from the camp to say good-bye.
As soon as they   first tikka is put, I always start crying.  Ugh!  I get a lot of stares at the airport with all of the blessings around my neck and on my forehead.   Wish me luck that the plane flies on Thursday.

Love,

Sarah

Good Morning,

In less than two weeks’ time, I will begin my long travels back home.
I can’t believe it.  Bishnu’s brother Krishna left Thursday to return to his job in Saudi Arabia…prompting deep feelings of sadness knowing my turn is next.  He will be gone now for three years.  He came to the house Tuesday night for dinner…and again on Wednesday night for another round of raksi and hugs.  He requested that we not come in the morning to say good-bye because he will be crying…so I didn’t venture to the road.  Bel and Bishnu did go to watch Grandmother put tikka on his forehead and a khata around his neck.  Bel returned and reported that all were sobbing.  I’m glad I stayed in my room.  When it’s my turn, I’ll fly from Pokhara to Kathmandu, stay three days, and then catch my international flight.  Having those three days in Kathmandu
allows me the time to actually make it back to the capital…with a cushion of time in case of delays…and will also allow me to check in with my Kathmandu friends.

The rains keep falling…continuing this unusual weather pattern here in Pokhara.  I thought that they had stopped…but it was only a two day tease of sun and mountain views.  Everything is damp.  The clothes that are taken to the river to wash stay wet for days on end.  When the rains stop, we quickly put them out on the clothes lines to dry…and then when the rain resumes, we quickly gather them up and set them back inside.  This is my job, since they all hang on the roof outside my room.  I check on them, shift them to where the sun is and turn them over and around until entirely
dry.  I have some of my clothes hanging everywhere inside my room.  My hope is
that this weather pattern clears by the time it is my turn to fly back to Kathmandu.

On my visits to the Tibetan camp, I’ve been treated several times to the Paus doing healing treatments.  This year, when I arrived, I found Pau Nyima drinking again.  This is a dance that he shifts in and out of…the dance of an alcoholic.  And a dance that he and I do, when he is in that cycle, with me requesting that he please stop and him promising that he will.  On one trip…as Migmar and I were making our way to his home, we passed him going in the opposite direction…so drunk he didn’t recognize us.  And when we stopped him, he gestured that he was going to continue.
We made our way to his home and waited until he finally showed up….and did our dance of me saying please don’t drink and him saying ‘little, little okay’ and me saying ‘little, little not okay’.  On another day, as we were waiting in the open space for Laxman to come and pick us up, he came staggering up to us shouting loudly.  I just turned my back and refused to acknowledge him.  I tell him that at least don’t drink on the days he knows I’m in the camp.  Then I can pretend he is keeping his promise.  He says that after three years, he will die.  My fear is that that is true.  I think he drinks because at the time he was having his visions and craziness signaling he had the fate to be a Pau, China was invading Tibet…and instead of being guided on how to control the trance state, he was fleeing over the Himalayas into Nepal.  This crazy state continued for over ten years before a Buddhist Lama in Kathmandu helped him to master embodying the deities.  It was during those ten years that he used alcohol to numb that state of insanity he was trapped in.  This past June, he was invited to Russia for a program…and from there traveled to Mongolia.  His daughters say that before he left, he wasn’t drinking…but since returning home, he started up again.  While he was in Mongolia, they gifted him with a kind of shaman’s hat that is made of
woven fabric.  It has a cap with fringe above the forehead that ties under the chin.
And on top of the woven cap is a multi-tiered dome with half of a metal dorje (Buddhist thunderbolt) on top.  He now includes this as a part of his shaman costume.  Towards the end of the ceremony, when he is no longer possessed by his god, the traditional head piece that he wears falls off the back of his head.  I was curious to see what would happen with this new added piece.  It took a bit longer, but the rhingha (traditional head piece) did eventually fall off…followed by the new head
piece.  One thing I’ve noticed with the shamans I observe here is that when there is a culturally specific form of shamanism, there isn’t a lot of leeway in how the ceremonies are performed.   It is always done exactly the same way, every time.  I find this to be the case with both the Tibetan shamans I visit and the Magar shamans I live with.  They do not have the freedom to experiment, shift and change.  There is no free
journeying.  This was particularly true of Pau Wangchuk and is still true for Pau Rhichoe.  But Pau Nyima tends to push that structure a bit from time to time.  And including this new head piece is a good example.

The last of the projects in the camp was set in motion this past week.  I thought it was going to be the easiest to do…but it ended up being the most challenging.  Two years ago, we bought a water tank for Dechen and Tsamchoe.  They had a neighbor that was kind enough to attach a hose to their tap and fill the tank for these two old women every day.  This year, I wanted to join their tank to the camp’s water supply…thus giving them direct access to water without having to rely on someone else’s hands.  They live in a house owned by one of the men in the camp not known for his generosity.  When we first approached him, he said the house belonged to his son who lives in Canada so he could not give permission.  This story then kept
changing.  Then the camp health committee got involved…then the women’s association…then the head of the Ngari Association.  It turns out that the man
is afraid that after all of the improvements we have done to the house to make
the women more comfortable, he’s afraid they will never leave.  Finally, the head of the Ngari association…who knows the two old women well, just decided to do it
anyways.  She talked to a friend on the water committee who said ‘no problem’ and then got a bid.  When I was in the camp on Wednesday, not only was a water line being attached…they were building an entire tap…built to waist level so they don’t have to bend down to wash dishes and clothes.  Whew!  My only fear is that this man…out of vengeance…might evict them now that there are these new improvements…thinking he can get a higher rent.

With this last project nearing completion, I can proudly say we installed a new ceiling in one home, put in a new floor in another home, purchased a water tank and hose for a third home, built a tap and connected it to the camp’s water supply for the fourth home, did plastering work and had custom made shelves made for a fifth
home.  I finished delivering school fees…and we are now helping to educate thirteen girls and three boys…with the youngest in class one and with two of our young women working on their Master’s Degree in education.

One more round of visits to the camp this week, then a round of good-byes.

Sadly,

Sarah

                After weathering five days of steady rain, the sun has finally come out…leaving the Annapurna Range of the Himalayan Mountains beautifully set against an amazing blue sky.  The sunrises and sunsets have been spectacular.  I wish my camera could catch it in a way that did it justice.

                I haven’t mentioned her much this year, so let me tell you about Migmar.  I arrived to find her struggling with so much ‘tension’ that she had developed an ulcer.  Three years ago, her husband Yeshi traveled to the States to attend their daughter Dolma’s college graduation.  Their youngest daughter, Sonam, was also in the US attending school.  After the graduation ceremony, Yeshi, Dolma and Sonam headed north to the Canadian border and claimed refuge, leaving Migmar and their adult son Chime tending the shop Lakeside here in Nepal.  Canada has a policy that allows all who come to immigrate.  They don’t turn folks away.  During these past three years, Yeshi has been working to get his permanent residency papers, which would then allow him to bring Migmar and Chime to Canada.  In anticipation of this happening, Yeshi returned to Nepal last January and spent several months getting rid of the shop and most of their personal possessions.  This left Migmar homeless.  She and Chime moved into Yeshi’s mother’s (Norzin) home in the Tibetan camp with Yeshi’s sister Karma, her husband and two year old son who also live there.  Migmar went from being used to running her own household that had solar panels for hot showers to being a guest in someone else’s home with no hot water for bathing.  She lasted there for about a month and then shifted to her brother’s home in the Tashiling Tibetan camp.  Chime stayed where he was.  I told Migmar that it would have been better if Yeshi had waited now to visit Nepal…leaving Migmar and Chime their home and livelihood…and then being here to help with all of the paperwork and to travel with them back to Canada. 

I tried to get a sense from Migmar on why she made the shift from Norzin’s home to her brother’s apartment…where he lives with his wife and a nephew…but when talking with Migmar, it’s like chasing my tail.  I have to keep going around and around on the topic…frequently leaving the conversation with no idea as to whether or not she understood what I was saying.  It’s exhausting.  She knows many English words, but her comprehension is very limited.  She thinks in absolutes, but multilayered concepts or words that have subtleties are beyond her.  I forget all that when I’m away from her, but it all comes crashing back after our first conversation when I arrive here and I end up with a headache.  I can never assume that the way I understand the meaning of the words she is using is the same as she thinks they mean.  I think part of the difficulty she had at Norzin’s home is that Migmar likes to enter other’s homes and start telling them how to do things.  I tried to broach the concept that just because something is the right way for her when she is doing it, doesn’t mean it’s the right way for anyone else…that there are many ways to do things…and each person has the right to do it their way…especially in their own home.  But this was beyond her level of reasoning.  She said she left because of mosquitos (they wouldn’t cut the grass like she told them to do) and because there is no hot water (there is no hot water at her brother’s home either). 

Last week, when we were visiting Wangchuk’s son, her phone rang.  It was the Canadian Embassy calling from Delhi, India.  She requested that I speak on her behalf, because her English isn’t good and she was worried she would misunderstand what the man was saying.  So I took the phone.  All of the papers necessary for Migmar and Chime to immigrate to Canada are ready.  The only things they are missing are their Nepali travel documents.  I explained that they are in the process of getting those made…but navigating Nepal’s bureaucracy is challenging and takes time.  He said that as soon as the travel documents are ready, please send them immediately to Delhi and they will be cleared to go.  Chime has been in Kathmandu trying to get the process completed.  And Migmar traveled there on Wednesday to sign papers.  I hope it goes smoothly.  Because they are Tibetan and don’t have citizenship, a special travel document must be made to give them permission to leave the country.  It takes the place of a passport.  This requires going to various Ministries and getting signatures.  It also means they will have to do a lot of bribing.  It is very possible that the Nepali government could refuse to issue the travel document.  Migmar believes she has bad karma…and that all she has ever wanted was to live with family.  Ironic since she has the opportunity to do so now and has chosen not to live with them (another one of those chasing tail conversations).  With Migmar gone, Karma went with me on my visit to Pau Wangchuk’s son Trinley and grandson Karma Tashi.  Trinley makes the most delicious bread and omelets.  And he’s got quite a garden growing on the neighbor’s land.  He sells the produce for extra pocket money.  I was pleasantly surprised to see him growing broccoli.  It is not a vegetable that is easily found here.  He cut some for me and Karma and I took it to her home to steam and eat with butter.  Yum!  Having Karma translate for me went very well.  She will help me in the camp once Migmar is no longer available.     

                At Bel’s home on Tuesday, he performed a ‘home puja’.  This is a shamanic form of home security.  Bel’s father and grandfather were both jhankris (shamans)…and Bel has their faded prayers written on old paper that he reads during certain ceremonies.  He had white agate rocks that he had hammered into small pieces.  He took tree branches (about one inch in diameter) and cut them into small lengths.  Three of the pieces were about six inches long.  Onto the side of each of these, he hammered a flat piece of iron.  The rest of the pieces of branches were about three inches long.  One end was cut into a point.  On the other flat end, an iron nail was hammered into place.  He rang a hand bell in one hand and used his other hand to turn the pages of the prayers as he read.  He sacrificed a chicken and sprinkled its blood on the sticks and rocks, then went from room to room, throwing the rocks around and tossing them up onto the roof.  At each corner of the house outside, he used a metal rod to punch a hole into the ground.  He then inserted one of the small pieces of wood, pointed side down, dropped a white rock on top then covered the hole.  The longer lengths of wood got tied to the windows above each of our doors.  And on each window ledge, he hammered another piece of the flat iron.  The home is now protected.  This puja is done during the Nepali month of Kartik.  Those who feel their families are under attack will contact Bel and Somendra to come and do this puja for them.  Somendra was unable to come, so Kancha Bhai’s (Bel’s youngest brother) Maile (second son) came to help with the rocks and chicken.

                Visited Guru’s home on Friday…and Laxman’s home yesterday.  Back to the camp today.

Love,

Sarah

 
It seemed like such a quiet week, after all of the previous weeks
festivities. The kids are all now back in school…leaving just Bishnu, Anil and I
at home on the days I don’t go out to the Tibetan camps. We’ve been
having unseasonable rain….huge storms with wind and lightning. And I awoke on Thursday to a steady drizzle of rain and fog. By now the rains have usually
stopped. So everyone is talking about this strange phenomenon.

On Sunday, Migmar and I went Lakeside to arrange my return flight to Kathmandu on December 1. Sigh! These days, the travel agencies do all the booking online and print out e-tickets. My how times have changed. Migmar will travel with me to Kathmandu because her daughter Dolma is arriving on December 3.  They haven’t seen each other for ten years…since Dolma won a scholarship to attend high school in the U. S. Dolma completed high school and earned a Bachelor’s degree from Berea College…then went to Canada and claimed refuge. She now has permanent residency status…and the papers that allow her to travel. I thought Migmar would have been delighted at the news her daughter was coming after so many years…but this doesn’t seem to be the case.  Another sigh!

 
When it was time for me to return home last year, it was such a time of
great angst. The goats were all dying of some unknown illness, Bishnu was
very ill and Durga had just had baby Saral. They never did figure out what
was causing the goat die out…but families are slowly rebuilding their
herds. Last week, many of the surviving goats gave birth…so now as I walk the
short path from Bel’s home to the street, I have to step around baby goats
jumping and head butting each other. At Bel’s home, they have decided not
to have any more goats…settling instead for chickens. For a while, I was
being treated to fresh laid eggs. But these days, the minute the hen lays
one, she turns around and eats it. Bel joked that it might be time to eat
some chicken…making a slashing motion across his throat.

 
Bishnu continues to struggle with her health. She was recently diagnosed
with a heart problem and the doctor prescribed a statin to lower her blood
cholesterol, an anticoagulant, an antibiotic and pills for heartburn. She
is not to take cold drinks nor ‘play’ in cold water…which basically means
she should not be washing clothes and dishes. They have found a woman who
comes twice a week, picks up the clothes that need washing and heads to the
river.

 
I love how the little ones are taken care of….which is usually by the
preteen and teenage boys. Saral…who is coming up on her first birthday…is
always on the hip of one of the boys in the neighborhood. Her mother Durga
has a provisions (rice, lentils, sugar, flower, beans, etc.) shop, so Saral
spends most of her day there. Because of this, she has no ‘stranger danger’
reactions. She is always smiling and laughing. Even when she met me for
the first time, she just put her arms out for me to hold her. There are
many hours in the day when Durga is not quite sure where Saral is…because
someone has come by and picked her up and then wandered away. Nine times out of ten…it is one of the boys. They tote her around, change her when she
wets herself and feeds her when she is hungry. In years past, if the little
ones wore diapers, they were of the cloth variety. But most did not even
use those. Instead, they had pants on or went without any clothes on the
bottom. By carrying the child on your hip or strapped to your back with a
shawl, you always knew when they needed to ‘do letting’. This year, however,
I’ve noticed the introduction of things that are now separating the mother
and child from each other. Strollers have appeared. Baby carriers to p
ut on your back are now used. Pampers diapers are everywhere. It makes me
a bit sad.

 
When we watch television, it comes through a cable line with most of the
shows coming from India. And whenever there is a commercial break, the
products that they are advertising are ‘fairness’ creams…aka skin whitening
lotions. They portray people with darker skin as being less successful, or
as unlikely to find someone who will fall in love with them or as someone
who isn’t capable of doing well in school. I see these products in the local
markets and sitting on the shelves of the people who I visit. One of the
major companies who are producing these products is Vaseline. Interesting,
isn’t it?

 
On Friday, Bel and I made our way to the market. I purchase all of the
food that I eat so as not to burden Bel and his family with another mouth to
feed. We picked up a box of the noodles I enjoy, sugar, powdered milk, dhal
mut. And we made our way to the part of the market that sells metal foot
lockers. I need it for the clothes, sheets and towels that I store here
from year to year. Mice season is upon us and if I didn’t put them all in
the metal box, I might return next year to find holes in all of my clothes.
So far, I’ve been lucky…but why take a chance?

 
Bel’s nephew Kalu came down from the village with his wife and son Friday
night. He is really quite an outstanding young man…and I was thrilled that
I got to see him again. Whenever he or his cousin Bikesh arrive, they
take the time to sit with Anil, help to clean the house, cook food or run
errands. Anil will now be asking ‘dhai koi?’….’where’s older brother?’ for
the next little while.

 
I’ve continued delivering the school fees this week.

 
One month from today I’ll be home.

 
Love,
Sarah

                Tihar has now come and gone….leaving the remaining month I have left free of festivals, marriage ceremonies and other exciting events.  We will all settle into a quiet routine.  Usually, Dashain and Tihar start about this time of year.  The timing is based on the moon’s cycle and varies from year to year.  This year it came early…which had me stepping right into all of the festivities upon my arrival.  It will now seem very quiet!

                Monday was the first day of the five day Tihar festival.  On each day, different offerings are made.  On Monday, food was set out for the crows.  On Tuesday, dogs were honored with red tikka powder on their foreheads, a flower malla (necklace) around their necks and they were fed special food.  Usually, dogs are treated quite horribly here…but on this one day, they are cherished.  It’s fun to travel around and see dogs running around with their mallas.  It is a day they know they won’t get kicked.  Tikka headed to his parent’s home in Bhairwa so he could receive tikka from his sister. 

Wednesday was Laxmi puja day.  Laxmi is the goddess of wealth and takes the form of a cow.  So offerings are made to all cows.  Grandmother no longer has a cow, so Bel and I went to give treats to her buffalo.  He mixed colored tikka powder with water, put flowers and coins on a plate, lit incense and took a small melon into which he had cut a design.  He dipped the melon into the colored water and stamped the buffalo all over its hide.  We decorated the house with flower garlands over each doorway and colorful lights were strung along the roof line and around the small compound.  We hung a strand of lights above my room and one on the small house behind (their original home) where Durga lives and Bel has his puja room.  Bel made a rope by twisting long strands of grass together…into which we stuck flowers.   He made a small broom out of the same grass and attached that with the leaf plate he used for the buffalo tikka and put it in the middle of the long rope.  One end was tied to a pillar on the top of his roof and the other end was taken across the path that runs in front of the house and was tied to a tree.  All who walk under this are blessed.  Babita, Izane and Dhan arrived, so the house was bursting.  This is the day that the kids can start playing ‘bhailo’.  They travel in packs and go from house to house.  The more organized groups practice special dances and they all wear traditional Magar clothing.  They take with them the two headed drum and a boom box.  Their programs can last for over an hour.  The younger kids just take the drum and run quickly from house to house screaming ‘bhailo’.  They rarely dance…even if we try to coax them to do so…but instead ask for money and then run on to the next house.  On a large, round, flat basket we put an oil lamp, rice, shell roti and money which are then given to the group.  They take the basket and dance it around, singing a special song before putting most of the contents of the basket into a satchel they travel with.  They leave only the oil lamp and a small bit of the rice on the basket.  Most of the money they earn is donated to whatever cause they choose to dance for each year…with the rice and a small bit of the money kept aside for a picnic after the festival.  In the evening, we turned on all of the strands of lights and lined the front porch with candles.

Thursday bulls were honored in the same way the cows were the day before.  Dhan headed up to his village so he could get tikka from his sister.  And I got to make the shell roti again.  The men butchered a goat for the food that was served on Friday.

Which brings us to bhai tikka day.  The morning was spent cooking all of the special food needed to celebrate the day and the house was cleaned and made ready.  This year, it was Bishnu’s turn to put tikka on her three brother’s foreheads, so we had quite a houseful.  Krishna, Kamal and Prem came with their wives and children.  Somendra arrived solo and Kancha Bhai’s wife and their five sons came.  Bel’s nephew Lokesh was there, Naroj…the boy who lives next door wandered over…and Sangeeta’s best friend’s brother showed up on his motorcycle.  Gifts were required for all.  When it was my turn, Bel and Somendra sat on a mat on the front porch.  In front of them was a container of water, incense, a plate of shell roti and fruit, a small dish of oil, an oil lamp, a small dish of rice paste and a special plate with all of the different colored tikka powders.  I started by walking around the two men, pouring water as I went.  This is to protect them in the coming year.  Then I started with Somendra.  I dipped my fingers into the oil and rubbed it into his hair.  I then took a splint of bamboo, dipped it into rice paste and drew a vertical line up his forehead.  Next came the tikka powder.  I used another bamboo splint to pick up a small bit of powder and dabbed it onto the rice paste.  I repeated this process using all of the different colors until the line of rice paste was covered in color.  I put a flower malla around his neck and put a new topi (traditional Nepali hat) on his head.  He then touched his forehead to my feet and put money in my hand.  I repeated this process with Bel.  I then sat down and Bel put tikka on my forehead.  Instead of giving me a hat…he put a scarf around my neck.  Bishnu put tikka on her three brother’s foreheads and on their three wives’ foreheads.  All are then fed shell roti and vegetable curries…then a huge meal of dhal bhat (rice and lentils) and meat curries….and of course, raksi.  Kancha Bhai came quite late…and drunk.  After he took a brief nap, I then put tikka on his forehead.  The kids who were playing ‘dosuri’ (it is only bhailo for the first two days…then they start saying dosuri) left for a final day of dancing…and we all wandered from house to house to ‘do chatting’, returning home if a dance group arrived.

‘The Boys’ continued the tradition of dancing for Sarah Phupu.  I wasn’t sure they would do it this year…but all arrived with their small boom box and began a series of dances.  Bishnu brought Anil outside so he could watch.  And Sangeeta was there to take photos.  The last song was ‘disco’, so Sangeeta and I joined in.  What a riot!  I hope they are willing to do this for many years to come…but I know they will eventually grow out of it.  

Yesterday was mostly a day of rest…and clean-up from all of the festivities.  We will take the lights down…and the flower garlands will slowly dry out.  The Magar community all gathered in the road in front of Grandmother’s home in the late afternoon to sing and dance their traditional songs and dances.  All families in the area brought out the flat basket with all of the offerings and Tihar was brought to a close.

Back to the Tibetan camp today…and will start delivering the education fees to the girls this week.

Love,

Sarah

Good Morning,

This week was a quiet one…compared to the previous weeks where we were in the midst of the Dashain festival and Sapana’s marriage ceremony. I think of this as the calm before the storm. This week we will celebrate Tihar…a five day festival where I will honor my brothers. The rains are coming to an end…so the dust has settled in…leaving all of us sneezing. And many are now getting sick…blaming it on the change of season. Personally, I don’t find the temperatures different. It is still very hot. But twice I woke in the middle of the night with a fever and dizziness. And enough nausea that I placed the bucket from my bathroom by my bed, just in case. Each time, when I awoke the next morning, I felt fine.

Sapana seems to be settling into her new life quite well. Whenever she is on her roof putting up laundry to dry, we wave to each other and smile. And once, when I was walking out to the road to catch my taxi, she and her new husband were both on the roof, chatting and smiling with each other. Both looked down, smiled and waved at me. Sangeeta said that if Sapana had not cried as much as she did during the marriage ceremony, the old ones would have said something was not right. A bride should not be smiling and laughing at that time.

At night, I now have a security guard. It’s a small bird who sits on wire above my door each night. I first noticed it because of the mess it was making in front of my door. I even contemplated blocking the wire so it had to go somewhere else. But I was told that it is good luck to have a bird roost like that. So I put down a piece of cardboard each evening to catch all of its droppings. When I come up to bed each night and turn on the outside light, it lifts its head and looks at me as if saying ‘hey…I’m trying to sleep here’. In the morning, it’s gone and I tuck the cardboard under the solar panels.

Here is my daily routine. I wake at 5:30, go to my shower room open the water line, use the toilet and turn on the water heater. ..then I return to my room. At 6:00, I do my morning journey/meditation to bless the day, do some form of stretching/exercise in my tiny room, then go and take a shower. This entails squatting under the water tap because water doesn’t come out of the shower head. I actually bought a small, plastic stool so I now sit under the tap. I also wash the clothes that I wore the previous day. I then reverse the order and turn off the electric water heater and shut off all of the water lines. I hang my laundry on the clotheslines outside my room. If I have an internet connection, I go on-line and check email and Facebook. You have all been awake all day, so there is always a ton of stuff to go through. While showering, one of the daughters will have brought up a cup of coffee and a thermos of tea and placed it in my room. If it’s a day that I go out to the Tibetan camp, Laxman will pick me up at 8:30. If it’s the day I visit Lobsang, I walk over to her shop around 10:00. If it’s a free day…I stay in my sweats all morning reading, drinking tea and playing on the computer until lunch is served at 10:00. Each afternoon, I run the electric motor that sends water up to the two water tanks on the roof. One of the tanks is for my bathroom and the other tank is for the household. I brought with me this year bib connections that allow us to now just turn a switch to direct the water from one tank to the other. Before, you had to undo a length of rubber, pull off the hose and connect it to the other tank’s bib and wind the strip of rubber around the hose to keep it secure. I also keep an eye on the water level in the underground tank. If it looks like it is getting low, we will call and ask for a water delivery. 10,000 liters of water costs around $10. Once the load shedding increases, it will be a challenge to get the water up to the tanks each day since the pump only runs if there is electricity. We go through a lot of water because Anil is so ill. There is a constant need to be cleaning him and washing his clothes because he is incontinent. Late afternoon, I’ll check out the kitchen to see if there are any dishes to be done. And if Bishnu needs help lifting Anil, I’ll help her do that. I’ll also go back on-line around 5PM my time, because some of you will be up and posting again. I head downstairs around 6Pm for a small dish of dhal mut (snack) and a glass of raksi. Dinner is served around 7:30. If people need healings, they start wandering in around that time…because Bel will have returned home from his cooking job. I call it a day around 9PM…heading back up stairs and going online one more time.

On Wednesday, worldwide, Tibetans led demonstrations protesting the Chinese treatment of Tibetan monks and nuns in the Kirti Monastery in Tibet. The military has basically taken over the monastery and turned it into a prison. There has been a marked increase in monks and nuns who are setting themselves on fire, committing suicide in protest. Tibetans from each of the camps here in Nepal made their way to Delhi India to participate in a major demonstration there. Here, the Tibetans also held prayer vigils in each of the camps and did marches. They have to be careful. China gives a lot of money to Nepal…and during this past year, has used that source of support to start telling the Nepali government how to treat the Tibetans. For celebrating the Dalai Lama’s birthday in July, China insisted that the Nepali police break up the peaceful celebrations and imprison Tibetans…which the Nepali police did. Only after my arrival here, were the ones arrested finally released. It’s a frustrating situation. Nepal doesn’t want the Tibetans, won’t grant them citizenship, won’t let their children attend Nepali schools, won’t let Tibetans have jobs….but also won’t let them immigrate elsewhere. The U. S. government has said it is willing to allow all the Tibetans in Nepal into the US…but China has told Nepal that they are not allowed to let them leave. It is a horrible limbo. Late Wednesday afternoon, the Tibetans in the Tashiling Refugee settlement started singing their national anthem. It was such a haunting sound as it came across the small gorge from their camp to Bel’s home.

Bishnu hasn’t been feeling well. So Thursday night Bel made an offering to the peechas (phonetic spelling)…a form of middle world spirit that causes harm. He had made a basket out of the leaves of the bodhi tree, joining the edges with bamboo splints. He also made a smaller container out of the leaves and attached it to the basket. This he filled with oil and a put in a string wick. In the bottom of the basket, he put a lump of cow dung and inserted chili peppers and chicken feathers. He also put in rice and lentils that had been baked inside some of the same leaves. He had me get my flashlight and handed me one of their curved knives, a water pot, and a dish of oil. He picked up the basket and a piece of burning wood. He waved the basket over Bishnu’s head three times, and then we headed out the door and down the gorge. Part way down, he stopped and set the basket down. He lit the oil wick then had me back up towards the house. He drew a line in the earth with the knife and sprinkled water over the basket. We then turned around and went back home. This offering will feed the peechas so they won’t feed on Bishnu…and it won’t be able to cross the line and return to disturb her.

Friday Bel and I went to Guru’s home to watch him treat patients and have lunch. I delivered his daughter’s school fees for the year. Jyoti is completing the first year of her bachelor’s degree. Guru told me that he thinks my way of thinking about educating girls is very good. That in this ‘new Nepal’, girls will need to be educated so that they can survive. The days of needing to learn how to take care of a house so they can get married and have babies is slowly changing. And the old Nepal that would only educate boys needs to be replaced. From there we made our way to the bazaar so we could do our Tihar shopping. I needed to buy new hats for my brothers, candles that will line the front porch each night and colored powders to put on my brother’s foreheads. I also buy Bel and Bishnu a new outfit. Bel always laments that the pants that are available are all too long. And I always tease him that it’s not that the pants are long…it’s that his legs are so short. Yesterday, Bishnu and I returned to the market and we bought her new outfit. That evening, we had the mother of all storms. Which will probably be the last of the monsoon season. The wind really kicked up…which is unusual here…then it started raining…then hailing…with lots of thunder and lightning. We started saying prayers for all to be safe…Bel picking up a drum and beating it as we all asked the deities to be gentle. Somendra had come by with a bag of special grubs to be fried and eaten…to which my reply was ‘ewwww’ and I passed on the delicacy. We sat in the dark after we lost power, sipping raksi after battening down the hatches. It was actually a bit frightening. And sadly, I think the hail damaged the rice and millet crops that are close to being harvested.

Tihar is known as the festival of lights…so we will start to decorate the house with strands of multicolored bulbs. The boys and girls are practicing their dances so they can travel from house to house and perform for money. I hope ‘the boys’ will make a special appearance again this year. They are now preteen and might not think it is fun anymore to dance for Sarah Phupu. I’ll let you know.

Love,

Sarah

Tashi Delek!

I can’t believe I have now been here for a month…which means that I only have a month and a half to go. The time seems to be slipping quickly by. I wish it would slow down. The monsoon rains have tapered off…although I’m sure we’ll get at least one more huge downpour. The mornings are crisp and clear with magnificent views of Macchapuchre Mountain.

The big event of the week was Sapana’s bihar (marriage) ceremony on Wednesday. As in all things Nepali, all was done at the last minute. Monday, Durga and Babita went to purchase wedding gifts. After much discussion, it was decided that I should give Sapana a blender for grinding spices. It seems that these days, the traditional gifts of water vessels, special plates, baskets and pots for making raksi are not given by all…but only by immediate family. Everyone else is encouraged to give items that are practical. I gave my money to Durga and Babita and they made the purchase for me.

Tuesday was the day to prepare everything for the ceremony. The area was a beehive of activity, with the boy’s family setting up in the area in front of Bel’s neighbor’s home and Sapana’s family preparing the space in front of their home. They rented an elaborate tent that covered the courtyard between Grandmother’s home and Krishna’s home…and that extended across the front of both of those buildings all the way to the street. The boy’s family built an elaborate altar on their front porch and a similar alter was created in the courtyard at Grandmothers. Folks arrived to help…both relatives and neighbors to make flower mallas, prepare the vegetables for cooking, making shell roti, bringing rented tables, chairs, cooking pots, serving dishes, plates, cups and utensils, and decorating everything with flowers and brightly colored streamers. I’m always amazed at how everyone just arrives and offers their hands in help. And since the boy’s family did not have many family members to help, people from Sapana’s side joined them. It was common to hear people ask which side are you on…the boy’s or the girl’s? That evening, Bel and I wandered into the boy’s home to take a look around. We were fed special traditional bread made from beans that is also cooked in hot oil like the shell roti. The boy came into the kitchen where we were sitting, but was too shy to say anything. He and Sapana have not even exchanged a word of greeting, both avoiding the other. I would at least want to have one conversation.

Wednesday morning, the goats that had been purchased the day before were butchered and the cooking commenced. We carried Anil up to the roof so he could watch all that was happening down below. My only preparation was to put money into four envelops to hand to the couple and their attendants during tikka time. I headed to Grandmother’s home when the puja started so I could watch. Two separate ceremonies took place at the same time…the boy’s ceremony taking place on his front porch and Sapana’s ceremony taking place in their courtyard. Sapana’s uncle (her father’s brother) acted in her deceased father’s place….making the offerings guided by the ‘pujari’ (priest of the Brahmin (highest) caste). This lasted several hours. I split my time between the courtyard to watch the puja and Sapana’s room to watch as they prepared her for the marriage. It fascinated me that these two that were getting married spent a large part of the ceremony in separate locations participating in separate pujas. At one point in time, Sapana donned her red sari and came out to make offerings, then went back inside her room. Meanwhile, folks would arrive, be fed food, then sit around and chat. Finally, around noontime, the groom and his family left their home and walked towards us. They held an umbrella over his head and as they got closer, we all threw rice tikka on them. He was put on Kamal’s back and carried to the altar and Sapana was brought out and placed next to him. Her uncle then washed her feet and her mother poured water over their hands. At this point in time, Sapana started crying and did not stop the entire ceremony. As I looked around, with tears in my eyes, I saw that all of her family was also crying. This was such a difficult thing to do…arranging her marriage, but something they felt that they had to, even though it broke their hearts. A series of events then took place, Sapana walking around the boy pouring water on the ground, tying them together and him leading her around the altar, making offerings, feeding each other. They were then placed on chairs so we could each put tikka on their foreheads. When it was my turn, I first tossed tikka over their heads several times. Then I picked up some tikka and put some on this forehead, then some on Sapana’s forehead, back to his forehead and returning to her’s. I placed a kata (Tibetan prayer scarf) around their necks and handed them each an envelope with money. Then I put tikka on their attendant’s foreheads and handed them each an envelope.

The final part of the ceremony required that Sapana change out of the sari her family bought for her and into the sari her new husband’s family brought. He then put the final mark of colored powder on her forehead at the hair line marking her as his wife. His brother carried her on his back to their home where she was greeted by a chorus of old ones singing and playing the traditional two headed drum. We were then not allowed to see her until Friday when she returned to her mother’s home with her husband for tikka and food. Wednesday evening, we all slowly returned to our homes. And slowly, her brothers started converging at Bel’s where we ate, drank raksi and talked about how well it all went but that our hearts hurt from watching her cry. They told me that the old ones were impressed that I put tikka in the traditional way…and that I’m famous in their neighborhood and extended family. I’m glad that I honored the family in this way. We finished the day with a walk back to Grandmother’s home where the locals were also singing and we joined in the dancing.

Thursday, Sapana, her new husband Som, Som’s brother-in-law and his daughter made the rounds to each of our homes to ‘introduce’ Som to her family. It was necessary for them to do it immediately because Sapana needs to be able to leave her home to go to the river to wash clothes…which requires that she walk past her mother and brothers homes. If she had not made those rounds, she would be unable to do that. I’m happy to report that she looked happy. They brought each home a bottle of raksi and different tasty fried breads.

Friday afternoon, a woman I know from Salt Lake arrived from her trek…and I went Lakeside to meet up with her. She had passed through last weekend, but there was no time to get together. We have friends in common through the Adopt-A-Native Elder program…but don’t really know each other that well. Yesterday we went out to the camp and watched Pau Nyima do a healing ceremony. And we checked in with some of the old ones to see how their projects are coming along and did a tour of the camp. All in all it was a great way to end a wonderful week.

Love,

Sarah

Namaste!

I am happy to report that I survived another Dashain festival, navigating from house to house and moderating my food and raksi intake. The actual tikka day reminds me of my family’s celebration of holidays. Hours are put into preparing for the event…then it passes in a blink of an eye. In celebration of Dashain, large bamboo swings (pings) have appeared everywhere. It is considered good luck to take a swing. They don’t look that stable, but I always try to take a turn. And it’s also a time of card playing. Gambling, which is not technically allowed in the culture, comes out in full force during festival time. It’s fun to watch the little ones pull out a deck of cards and the money they get on tikka day and while away the time playing different card games.

I started the week by making my way out to the Tibetan camp. On Sunday, I spent the morning at Pau Rhichoe’s home…arriving at his house to be greeted by his son Singye. Singye had been up in the high mountains selling souvenirs to tourists and had been gone for three weeks. It was wonderful to walk up the path to the house and see him standing on the front porch. Everything goes more smoothly for Pau Rhichoe and his wife Tserap when their son is home. The toilet is kept clean and they have good food to eat. And we were pleasantly surprised to find out that the water in the camp is flowing so well and has so much pressure these days that the water tank for the solar shower on top of the bathroom was full. We thought we’d have to purchase a pump to force the water up because it is so high. But this is not the case. We went into the shower and turned on the tap and hot water came out. Yahoo!!!!! The only thing left on this project is to paint the outside of the bathroom (which we need to wait and o after the rains have stopped) and add a longer hose at the bottom of the sink. Right now, when you run water in the sink, the dirty water just splashes on your feet.

On our way to Pau Rhichoe’s home, we stopped in at Pasang and Khando’s home to deliver the money needed to put in the drop ceiling. This is the first time we’ve done anything major for this old couple…so have to trust that they will follow through on getting the ceiling made. We talked about keeping the money safe, only giving the money needed to purchase the building supplies initially and then giving the rest of the money when the project is done to their satisfaction. We’ll have to now wait and see how they do. They do have a son, but he isn’t of ‘good character’ which is why we support them. My main concern is that he will take the money and drink it away. Keep your fingers crossed for a positive outcome.

Monday I headed back to the camp to spend the morning with Pau Nyima and was greeted on his porch by his daughter Tenzin, who had returned from Kathmandu where she was been learning to speak German. She has competed her ‘ten plus 2’ (or twelfth class) schooling and is now looking ‘to join’ a nursing program. Odds are she will have to travel to India to do that, because Nepali campuses do not accept Tibetans. The best schools would be in Delhi, the most affordable near Bangalore. I was treated to a Pau Nyima healing ceremony. And as always, I was treated to his wife Tashi’s delicious flat noodle soup.

Monday afternoon began our fast for the Guru Puja. Bikesh (Bel’s nephew) arrived from the village and we began to make the assan (altar). That evening, Bel, Bikesh and I drummed and played the cymbals to call all of the deities to come to be honored. We then ate yogurt and a special bread like pancake cooked in ghee (clarified butter). The next morning, Somendra joined us and made representations of a buffalo and goat out of large zucchinis. These were then ceremonially sacrificed. Once all was ready, we began another round of drumming and dancing. Anil insisted on being in the room, so we made a special place for him to sit and watch. Neighbors and family members also come and watch. The final act is to sacrifice a chicken. It must give its permission before cutting off its head. Bel puts rice in its feathers and dribbles water on its head. It if shakes its head three times, it has agreed to offer its life to the gods. If it doesn’t agree, it is set free. This one gave permission. The chicken is then cooked and all of the breads and fruits that had been on the alter…and are considered blessed (prasad)…are given to all to eat. Bel puts tikka on everyone’s forehead. Eating of the prasad breaks the fast and a huge meal was then served. The altar will remain in place until the full moon when it will be taken to the river.

Thursday was Dashain tikka day. The country astrologer announced that the official time to put tikka was 11:00 AM. The morning was spent cooking all of the different food dishes to be served to all who come for tikka. Wednesday, the extended family purchased two goats and butchered them in Bel’s back yard so Anil could watch. And that afternoon, I sat in the back yard and made the shell roti, with Anil also keeping me company. Hot oil is heated over a stove that is packed with sawdust and lit by dried tree branches. I use a funnel to pour the batter in a circle, flipping the doughnut like bread once to cook the other side before removing it and placing it on a paper lined basket. The shell roti is served first with vegetable curries to the guests that come…followed by a full dhal bhat (rice and lentils) meal with vegetable and meat dishes. You are expected to eat this quantity of food at every house you visit…and drink raksi (fermented millet brewed in everyone’s backyard still). Which, of course, is impossible to do.

A table is prepared with a vessel containing water and flowers, a plate with shell roti and fruits, the jamara (sprouts that Sangeeta planted the first day), and a special container for the tikka (rice mixed in yogurt). An oil lamp and incense is lit. We started at Bel’s home. His youngest brother came with his wife and their four sons. Somendra arrived, followed by his daughter and two sons. We all took a turn sitting in the chair. First Bel and Bishnu throw rice over our heads, then down at our feet. Then they start tapping the tikka onto our foreheads. Some of the jamara is tucked into our hair and we are handed rupees (Nepali money). After Bel and Bishnu put the tikka, Somendra would come forward and repeat the ritual. Then everyone sits outside on mats and are fed all of the food. What followed was a parade of all of the nieces and nephews by blood or village relation who would run in, get the tikka and run out to the next home. We put an adult diaper on Anil and he and I walked slowly to Grandmother’s home next door. After Grandmother put tikka on all of our foreheads, we ate there. Uncle Kamal then put Anil on his back and returned him home while Bel, Bishnu, Somendra and I made the rounds. First to Prem’s home, then to Krishna’s home, then across the street to Grandmother’s sister’s home and finally down the road to another old aunt’s home. As the women make their way from home to home, they carry plastic bottles filled with their raksi, which they leave in each kitchen. We then returned home so Bel and Bishnu could continue to put tikka on all who wandered in and out throughout the day….having bottles of raksi put in their kitchen. The young ones set up a game of cards outside on the front porch and we settled in for an evening of raksi. Babita, Dhan Bahadur and Izane returned from his village that evening. And Durga, Tika, Simran and Saral returned from his parent’s home on Friday. Taxis are not readily available on tikka day…and if so, they charge double…so Bel, Bishnu, Anil and I waited until Friday to make our way to Guru’s home for tikka. We again set Anil up with a diaper and Uncle Prem drove us in his taxi. Anil was so excited these past couple of days. It warmed my heart to see. He was so determined to watch the goats being butchered and me making shell roti that he started crawling out to where all was happening before we could help him to his feet and walk him slowly.

I’ve learned how to navigate this Dashain process over the many years I’ve been coming. And the families I visit have come to know how to prepare food that is safe for me to eat. So it’s more of a balancing act of eating enough and drinking enough to not offend. And I’ve reached the point where I’m now comfortable enough and know them all well enough to say ‘no’.

They moved the date of Sapana’s wedding to this Wednesday…because the following Sunday was not an auspicious day according to the astrologer. So it’s coming fast! I officially received my invitation Friday from her brother Kamal. In the Magar tradition, they place a quarter of a special nut in your hand. Mine was wrapped in newspaper. I was thinking that since I’m an in-law (Bel’s sister versus Bishnu’s sister)…I might not be putting tikka…but now I think I am. I usually just show up and go where they tell me and do what they say. I’ll let you know.

Love,

Sarah

We are in the middle of a Nepali festival known as Dashain. This is a nine day festival where the Goddess Durga battles a demon called Mahasasur. On the first day of the festival, corn seeds that had been soaked in water are put into red soil on plates made of leaves. If all goes well, the sprouts will have grown a couple of inches by the ninth day and will be used in a tikka (colored rice put on forehead) ceremony. That day falls this Thursday. Bel, Somendra, Bikesh and I will do a Guru Puja this Tuesday. It will be a shamanic ceremony to honor our deities. An elaborate altar of bamboo will be created…and offerings of food, drink, candles and incenses will also be placed. We will have to do a lot of dancing…which will cause a lot of sweating. I’ll let you know how that goes. And how tikka day goes. It requires going house to house to have the tikka put on our foreheads and then eating and drinking. It can be challenging, because each place we goes insists that you partake. On Friday, Bel and I headed to the bazaar to do the Dashain shopping. Children get new clothes and special foods are prepared. The market place was packed. We went to Panthi’s Dairy for lassis (yogurt drink). It is a place known for it’s delicious drinks. And because it is Dashain…and animal sacrifices are made…the road out to the Tibetan camp was filled with changra…goats brought down off of the Tibetan plateau… for this festival.

Last week it was the earthquake. This week the news was of the plane that crashed near the Kathmandu valley. It was a ‘mountain flight’…meaning the plane flies the people up towards Mount Everest to see the mountains then returns them to the airport. As it was on final approach, it ran into fog and crashed into a house. It was a Buddha Air flight…which is the airplane company that I always use. And we came to know through the local newspaper that the flight crew that was killed was the same one that flew Sangeeta and me to Pokhara. It somehow made it more real for her and me. There is going to be a wedding! After much discussion, Sapana has finally agreed to be married to the brother of the man who lives in the house next door. I think she decided to accept the arrangement because she will live only a stone’s throw away from her home, because the family of the man she will marry is a good family and that if she rejects this offer, the next one might be far worse. They have also decided that the marriage ceremony should be an elaborate one…because she is the last daughter…and her oldest brother Krishna is home on leave from his job in Saudi Arabia. The family now has less than two weeks to put it all together. A red sari must be purchased, food must be arranged, invites must be sent and gifts must be bought. My role will be small. Only putting tikka (colored rice) on her forehead, the forehead of her husband, and on the foreheads of their attendants during the ceremony.

Bel’s youngest daughter, Anita, has traveled to Darjeeling India with her high school dance troupe. She attends the school associated with the Tibetan camps…because Bel is a cook in their vocational training center, so she was able to join their school system. She is a very graceful dancer. The dance group went from Tibetan camp to Tibetan camp, performing and raising money to cover their expenses. Before she left on Wednesday, I gave her some pocket money and advice about food and water. This is her first trip out of the Pokhara valley. I hope she has an amazing time. She will be back in time for Dashain tikka day.

I made the rounds at the Tibetan camp…checking in with each of the old ones that Indigenous Lenses supports with monthly stipends and doing needs assessments. For Dechen and Tsamchoe, we’re going to try and connect their water tank to the camp’s water line. Dechen fell recently and broke her leg …so she is bed ridden. Their ‘landlord’ is a strange man who doesn’t want them to have water. But we think we’ve found a way around him. And if Indigenous Lenses is paying for it, why would he not want this for his property? For Pasang and Khando, we are adding a drop ceiling. They only have a tin roof…and these days it’s VERY hot inside. For Pema Trinley, Pema Rhigyal and Tsering Dolma, we are going to put in a cement floor. They live in one of the oldest homes in the camp and the floor in uneven mud and stone. They have asked the folks in charge of the camp for help in the past and were told that they should just move into the Old Folks Home. But this is not what they want…so we’re going to at least make their floor easier to navigate. For Jamyang, Tashi and Dawa, we are going to purchase a 200 liter water tank to sit on their front stoop…and a hose so it can be filled from the community tap. They only have a small bucket and are constantly moving back and forth with soda bottles to keep it full. And for Pau Rhichoe’ s wife, we are going to arrange for her to have cataract surgery. A year ago, the monk’s from the Saksya Monastery paid for eye check-ups for everyone in the camp…and paid for surgeries for all that needed it. Tserap qualified for her left eye to have the cataract removed. Now that it was successful, she is willing to do the second eye. Her daughter will take her to the eye hospital for evaluation…and if possible, set that all in motion. I loved being back in each home…gazing into each old one’s face and listening to them tell Migmar that they hang prayer flags on all of our behalf’s and say prayers for our good health.

On Thursday, I made my way Lakeside. I had breakfast at Mike’s Restaurant on the shore of Fewa Lake. Then walked up and down the street to see what had changed. There are many new shops and restaurants. I ran into many of the Tibetan ladies from the camp that come Lakeside with backpacks filed with souvenirs to sell. They walk up and down all day, because they are forbidden from sitting down and putting out their wares. They approach the tourists and ask them if they would like to see what’s in the bag. If the tourist is interested, they set out all of their goods. Then when the transaction is complete, they put it all back in the backpack and continue moving up and down Lakeside. I stopped and chatted with the ones who called my name and got caught up on all of their news.

Yesterday I made my way to Laxman’s (my driver) home to see his wife and children. It is always a treat to approach their home. They all stand on the front porch with flowers in their hands to greet me….then one by one come forward to say ‘Namaste’ and hand me the flowers. I sit inside one of their two rooms and try to chat with the two sons and two daughters. Their English is halting, but they like to practice speaking it. They feed me tea and boiled eggs before Laxman returns me to Bel’s home. He has been my driver now for 8 years, I think. I remember the years before I found him, when it was a constant negotiation on taxi fares to and from Lakeside and the Tibetan camp…or Lakeside and Bel’s home. And many of the drivers are insane. Both Laxman and I both feel blessed that we found each other. So…Guru Puja Tuesday, I’ll be making shell roti (a special bread made by pouring a circle of batter into hot oil) on Wednesday and trying to survive tikka day on Thursday. Wish me luck!

Love,

Sarah