This past Thursday was Krishna's birthday. From what I understand, Krishna is the reincarnation of Vishnu, the god of protection. Someone told me he was turning 12,000, but I don't know if that's true.
I haven't been doing that much in Pepsi-Cola. The past three days I've been working on a mural at the VSN school. Simona, one of the other volunteers from Italy, had painted a huge map of Nepal with all the 75 districts. And I somehow became in charge of painting a huge map of the globe to go next to the map of Nepal. So, I had to sketch out the globe and then paint all the continents and oceans. It's been pretty fun and it's been nice hanging out with the other volunteers, a lot of whom are working at the school doing different things. Besides Zach, who arrived in Nepal just a couple days before I did, the other 15 or so volunteers have arrived only in the last two weeks. So I feel very wise being able to tell the newbies where they can get the best momos, when the electricity is probably going to cut off, how to deal with leeches, etc.
Tomorrow afternoon I fly to Doha and then to D.C. and then to Greensboro. And then I'll be back.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Back to Kathmandu
Last Wednesday, there wasn't any school because it was a Hindu holiday. I don't really know what the holiday was about, but I got the impression nobody really did. They just knew how to celebrate it. Sonam came and got me that morning and we followed crowds of other people coming from all over down to a little pond past Phaplu. Everyone crowded around and tried to push their way through to the water's edge where they would light incense, throw a couple rupees into the water as a blessing to God, and wash their face, hands and feet. And then everyone pushed and shoved to try to make their way into the really tiny "temple" area where there was a little statue of Shiva covered in paint and flowers and tika. I got a big, wet tika on my forehead and lit some incense at the altar. Afterwards, a Hindu priest wrapped red-dyed twine around my wrist until it made a little bracelet. Supposedly it's supposed to protect you from any difficulties while you wear it. It's also supposed to protect you from ghosts…..
On Thursday afternoon, after all the students were finished with exams, the seventh and eighth graders got together in one of the classrooms to give me the little going-away shindig they give all the volunteers and teachers that leave the school. They sat me down in the front of the classroom and a representative from each class came up and gave short, awkward speeches thanking me for teaching there. And then any students that wanted to got to come up and give me a tika. But because going-away things are apparently special occasions, the students don't have to just dot a little tika on your forehead. If they want, they can smear it all over your face. So, a couple of the more daring students came up and slapped red tika all over my face. I think most of them did it with love, some probably in revenge for the trigonometry I made them learn.
After that, I went and hung out with principal for the last time at the hostel, drank some tea. Then I went and hung out with Roby for the last time at his lodge, drank some tea. And then I had a really nice dinner with Sonam and his wife at their house. They were super, super nice and we talked for a really long time. They gave me a bag of fruit and biscuits and ramen noodles for my trip to Jiri and Sonam gave me prayer beads to wrap around my wrist. They called them "tokens of love".
Friday morning, I got up and started walking at 4:00. By the time I was past Phaplu the sun was coming up, and by then I could already tell it wasn't going to be a fun day. My backpack weighed like 40 pounds, mostly because of all the books I'd brought with me to read. After walking down from Phaplu for about an hour to a little town called Beni, it was uphill all the way to the Lamjura pass at over 3500 meters, the highest point on the trek from Jiri to Namche that lots of trekkers take who go to Everest Base Camp. By the time I was nearing the top, I was having to stop ever ten minutes or so to rest. And I started having leech issues. In the past 9 weeks in Solukhumbu, I'd only found maybe 4 or 5 leeches on me. But on Friday alone I found probably 15 on me, either just crawling around or already attached and sucking away, plus a ton more on my clothing. When I finally got to the top of the pass, I started the long, 2000 meter descent to the river. Apparently going up this side of the mountain is the hardest portion of the full trek to Everest Base Camp, so I was more than happy to be going down instead of up. Along the way I stopped near a little house and a bunch of kids ran out, really curious at the quire drenched in sweat and looking like he was near-death. Their mom came out and asked me if I wanted to buy some weed. And then she tried to sell me some little black balls that she said you smoke. And then her kids started pulling leeches off me that I hadn't seen. It was all very odd. I reached a town by the river called Kenja around 5:00 and stopped for the night at a little lodge, ate two big plates of daalbhat (which is an all-you-eat meal) and went to sleep.
When I woke up Saturday morning, my feet and shoulders were incredibly sore and it hurt just to sit up in bed. But I strapped on my backpack and headed out around 5:00. From the river it was straight up 1200 meters to a town called Deorali and then straight down 1000 meters to a town called Shivalaya. By the time I got to Shivalaya, I was beyond exhausted, but I was only three hours away from Jiri, so I kept going. I made it to a little town called Mali before I almost collapsed at a little lodge around 5:30. There I met a dude who didn't speak much English but I figured out was also going to Jiri to take the bus to Kathmandu and we agreed to leave at 5:00 the next morning to make it to Jiri before all the buses left. I ate another couple plates of daalbhat, slept, woke up Sunday morning, put my bag back on and kept walking. But this guy was really fast and he didn't have a heavy bag, so I had to power-walk for the next two hours to keep up with him, which was pretty miserable. But we made it to Jiri and managed to get tickets for a bus that left two hours later. From Jiri it was a pretty miserable 8 hour ride to Kathmandu but I managed to make it back to Suganda's house by around 6:00. I took my first shower in two weeks (it was a weird shower situation at the house in Nayabazaar involving a hose, long story) which was pretty wonderful.
Since then, I've basically just been hanging out around Pepsi-Cola, meeting a ton of new volunteers that have arrived since I've been gone (only one is still here from when I was in Kathmandu), drinking lots of tea, and spending a lot of time on the computer here at the VSN office. Yesterday I helped Dagan, a guy from Texas/Singapore, paint a classroom at the VSN school for a couple hours, but I haven't really been doing much. After three days of super intense travel, I haven't really wanted to do any work. On Monday I went into the city and met up with Jenny Vaidya, a friend from Davidson who lives in Kathmandu, and we walked around Thamel, one of the big touristy shopping districts. I bought a super cool Nepali wool hoodie. Yesterday, I tagged along with a couple new volunteers to a little town nearby called Thimi. While they walked around with one of the VSN guys I got a haircut at a little sketchy barbershop.
Next Tuesday, I fly back to the States. Until then I'll just be hanging out around Pepsi-Cola with the other volunteers.
On Thursday afternoon, after all the students were finished with exams, the seventh and eighth graders got together in one of the classrooms to give me the little going-away shindig they give all the volunteers and teachers that leave the school. They sat me down in the front of the classroom and a representative from each class came up and gave short, awkward speeches thanking me for teaching there. And then any students that wanted to got to come up and give me a tika. But because going-away things are apparently special occasions, the students don't have to just dot a little tika on your forehead. If they want, they can smear it all over your face. So, a couple of the more daring students came up and slapped red tika all over my face. I think most of them did it with love, some probably in revenge for the trigonometry I made them learn.
After that, I went and hung out with principal for the last time at the hostel, drank some tea. Then I went and hung out with Roby for the last time at his lodge, drank some tea. And then I had a really nice dinner with Sonam and his wife at their house. They were super, super nice and we talked for a really long time. They gave me a bag of fruit and biscuits and ramen noodles for my trip to Jiri and Sonam gave me prayer beads to wrap around my wrist. They called them "tokens of love".
Friday morning, I got up and started walking at 4:00. By the time I was past Phaplu the sun was coming up, and by then I could already tell it wasn't going to be a fun day. My backpack weighed like 40 pounds, mostly because of all the books I'd brought with me to read. After walking down from Phaplu for about an hour to a little town called Beni, it was uphill all the way to the Lamjura pass at over 3500 meters, the highest point on the trek from Jiri to Namche that lots of trekkers take who go to Everest Base Camp. By the time I was nearing the top, I was having to stop ever ten minutes or so to rest. And I started having leech issues. In the past 9 weeks in Solukhumbu, I'd only found maybe 4 or 5 leeches on me. But on Friday alone I found probably 15 on me, either just crawling around or already attached and sucking away, plus a ton more on my clothing. When I finally got to the top of the pass, I started the long, 2000 meter descent to the river. Apparently going up this side of the mountain is the hardest portion of the full trek to Everest Base Camp, so I was more than happy to be going down instead of up. Along the way I stopped near a little house and a bunch of kids ran out, really curious at the quire drenched in sweat and looking like he was near-death. Their mom came out and asked me if I wanted to buy some weed. And then she tried to sell me some little black balls that she said you smoke. And then her kids started pulling leeches off me that I hadn't seen. It was all very odd. I reached a town by the river called Kenja around 5:00 and stopped for the night at a little lodge, ate two big plates of daalbhat (which is an all-you-eat meal) and went to sleep.
When I woke up Saturday morning, my feet and shoulders were incredibly sore and it hurt just to sit up in bed. But I strapped on my backpack and headed out around 5:00. From the river it was straight up 1200 meters to a town called Deorali and then straight down 1000 meters to a town called Shivalaya. By the time I got to Shivalaya, I was beyond exhausted, but I was only three hours away from Jiri, so I kept going. I made it to a little town called Mali before I almost collapsed at a little lodge around 5:30. There I met a dude who didn't speak much English but I figured out was also going to Jiri to take the bus to Kathmandu and we agreed to leave at 5:00 the next morning to make it to Jiri before all the buses left. I ate another couple plates of daalbhat, slept, woke up Sunday morning, put my bag back on and kept walking. But this guy was really fast and he didn't have a heavy bag, so I had to power-walk for the next two hours to keep up with him, which was pretty miserable. But we made it to Jiri and managed to get tickets for a bus that left two hours later. From Jiri it was a pretty miserable 8 hour ride to Kathmandu but I managed to make it back to Suganda's house by around 6:00. I took my first shower in two weeks (it was a weird shower situation at the house in Nayabazaar involving a hose, long story) which was pretty wonderful.
Since then, I've basically just been hanging out around Pepsi-Cola, meeting a ton of new volunteers that have arrived since I've been gone (only one is still here from when I was in Kathmandu), drinking lots of tea, and spending a lot of time on the computer here at the VSN office. Yesterday I helped Dagan, a guy from Texas/Singapore, paint a classroom at the VSN school for a couple hours, but I haven't really been doing much. After three days of super intense travel, I haven't really wanted to do any work. On Monday I went into the city and met up with Jenny Vaidya, a friend from Davidson who lives in Kathmandu, and we walked around Thamel, one of the big touristy shopping districts. I bought a super cool Nepali wool hoodie. Yesterday, I tagged along with a couple new volunteers to a little town nearby called Thimi. While they walked around with one of the VSN guys I got a haircut at a little sketchy barbershop.
Next Tuesday, I fly back to the States. Until then I'll just be hanging out around Pepsi-Cola with the other volunteers.
Monday, August 3, 2009
This past week, it's rained a lot. Everyday. Sometimes all day. I'd been holding out on buying an umbrella since I got here, cause I was being really cheap, but I got the principal to go buy me one (since he gets the Nepali price and I get the "quire" price, for foreigners). Now I won't have to walk in the rain when I hike to Jiri at the end of the week to take the bus to Kathmandu.
Starting last week, the school has been having first term exams. So, everyday, I've invigilated exams. They pack 40 to 45 students, from classes 3-10 into each classroom during the exam period. All the classrooms are really tiny and the students sit four students to a bench, shoulder to shoulder, each bench/desk touching the next. No wiggle room. And the invigilator for each room has to somehow make sure the students don't cheat, which is nearly impossible since all the students are so packed together. Students from the same classes aren't sitting next to each other, but it doesn't really matter. The younger students can get the older students to help them answer questions. Invigilating hasn't been nearly as boring as I thought it would be. It's become sort of like a game, seeing how many cheaters I can catch. It's extra satisfying when I catch the extra sneaky ones. Different students have different strategies. One might write an answer on a piece of paper, put the paper in a pencil case and try to get the case to a classmate. Another might wait for a distraction, like another student asking the invigilator for extra writing paper. They're all super sneaky. But I'm better. I've developed a reputation for being the toughest invigilator. Every morning, students come up to me and ask me which classroom I'll be in, and I delight in the fear in their eyes when I tell them I'll be in their room…..
Yesterday, both my class 7 and 8 math classes had their exams, so I've been helping a lot of students with studying the last couple days. Students would come up to me and ask me if I could come to their house at a certain time on a certain day and I'd show up and there'd usually be a bunch of students and we'd have little study sessions. And I was pretty much always guaranteed a cup of tea (or three) for my services, which was pretty sweet. Twice, I went over to the house of one of my eighth graders named Raju and his mom would force tons of food on me (which I would politely pretend was unnecessary and then devour). I'd walk in and his mom would immediately say "Basnus". "Basnu" means "to sit" but when you add an "s" to the end of any verb, you're kind of adding a "please." So, she'd say "basnus" meaning "please, sit" but with a tone and a glare that said "Sit. Now." And then she'd say "kanus", "please eat", but with a tone of "You're going to eat whatever I put in front of you. Don't try to argue." And then she'd pile a bunch of samosas on a plate, which I'd eat, and then she'd pile a bunch more on.
On Thursday, school was cancelled because of a national strike. Some big teacher's organization in Kathmandu called a strike and every school in the country shut down. One newspaper said 6.5 million kids missed school. Apparently making kids miss school is the best way to improve the education system. So, on Thursday, I went over to the principal's "hostel" (which everyone calls it because eight or nine students from the school live there) hoping I could watch a movie. He called Roby, one of the other teachers, and he brought over a ripped copy of "Apocalypto" and the two of us watched it on the principal's little tv. The principal even brought us some tea. And then Roby (who is from Darjeeling but works at the school) invited me over to the lodge he stays at and we hung out for a while, drank some more tea. Then, on the way back to Nayabazaar, Shah saw me walking by and made me come in to his restaurant and drink some tea. Then I kept walking and Sonam saw me from the window of a house he was giving some extra classes at and he called me up, and he brought me some tea. Then I kept walking and Raju called me over and his mom saw me, commanded "basnus" and put a cup of tea in front of me. Then I went back to the house, watched the Aljazeera daily news and Urmila of my host family brought me a cup of tea. So, tea.
A couple days ago, the principal was telling me about a Bhutanese refugee who had been shot and killed in Florida. Apparently it's been a really big news story here in Nepal. He told me the story had really frightened him, since he hopes that one day he and his family can move to the States as Bhutanese refugees, and he asked me if this was normal in the States. And I was like, "Well, Americans have a lot of guns….and they shoot people more than other people shoot people…….more than like…..Canadians." The principal is always asking me about what it's like to live in the States and I always feel like I'm describing a horrible, vile place, and then end up saying something like, "but, I mean, it's not that bad, at least in most places". One day he asked me if there was a good train system. One day he asked me what the CIA was. He always seems to ask me questions with the worse answers.
On Friday morning, I'll start my walk to Jiri, where I can take a bus back to Kathmandu. I've been told I can make it to Jiri in two days, if I hike from sunrise to sunset. But, for some reason, that makes me kind of excited. It's like a challenge….
Starting last week, the school has been having first term exams. So, everyday, I've invigilated exams. They pack 40 to 45 students, from classes 3-10 into each classroom during the exam period. All the classrooms are really tiny and the students sit four students to a bench, shoulder to shoulder, each bench/desk touching the next. No wiggle room. And the invigilator for each room has to somehow make sure the students don't cheat, which is nearly impossible since all the students are so packed together. Students from the same classes aren't sitting next to each other, but it doesn't really matter. The younger students can get the older students to help them answer questions. Invigilating hasn't been nearly as boring as I thought it would be. It's become sort of like a game, seeing how many cheaters I can catch. It's extra satisfying when I catch the extra sneaky ones. Different students have different strategies. One might write an answer on a piece of paper, put the paper in a pencil case and try to get the case to a classmate. Another might wait for a distraction, like another student asking the invigilator for extra writing paper. They're all super sneaky. But I'm better. I've developed a reputation for being the toughest invigilator. Every morning, students come up to me and ask me which classroom I'll be in, and I delight in the fear in their eyes when I tell them I'll be in their room…..
Yesterday, both my class 7 and 8 math classes had their exams, so I've been helping a lot of students with studying the last couple days. Students would come up to me and ask me if I could come to their house at a certain time on a certain day and I'd show up and there'd usually be a bunch of students and we'd have little study sessions. And I was pretty much always guaranteed a cup of tea (or three) for my services, which was pretty sweet. Twice, I went over to the house of one of my eighth graders named Raju and his mom would force tons of food on me (which I would politely pretend was unnecessary and then devour). I'd walk in and his mom would immediately say "Basnus". "Basnu" means "to sit" but when you add an "s" to the end of any verb, you're kind of adding a "please." So, she'd say "basnus" meaning "please, sit" but with a tone and a glare that said "Sit. Now." And then she'd say "kanus", "please eat", but with a tone of "You're going to eat whatever I put in front of you. Don't try to argue." And then she'd pile a bunch of samosas on a plate, which I'd eat, and then she'd pile a bunch more on.
On Thursday, school was cancelled because of a national strike. Some big teacher's organization in Kathmandu called a strike and every school in the country shut down. One newspaper said 6.5 million kids missed school. Apparently making kids miss school is the best way to improve the education system. So, on Thursday, I went over to the principal's "hostel" (which everyone calls it because eight or nine students from the school live there) hoping I could watch a movie. He called Roby, one of the other teachers, and he brought over a ripped copy of "Apocalypto" and the two of us watched it on the principal's little tv. The principal even brought us some tea. And then Roby (who is from Darjeeling but works at the school) invited me over to the lodge he stays at and we hung out for a while, drank some more tea. Then, on the way back to Nayabazaar, Shah saw me walking by and made me come in to his restaurant and drink some tea. Then I kept walking and Sonam saw me from the window of a house he was giving some extra classes at and he called me up, and he brought me some tea. Then I kept walking and Raju called me over and his mom saw me, commanded "basnus" and put a cup of tea in front of me. Then I went back to the house, watched the Aljazeera daily news and Urmila of my host family brought me a cup of tea. So, tea.
A couple days ago, the principal was telling me about a Bhutanese refugee who had been shot and killed in Florida. Apparently it's been a really big news story here in Nepal. He told me the story had really frightened him, since he hopes that one day he and his family can move to the States as Bhutanese refugees, and he asked me if this was normal in the States. And I was like, "Well, Americans have a lot of guns….and they shoot people more than other people shoot people…….more than like…..Canadians." The principal is always asking me about what it's like to live in the States and I always feel like I'm describing a horrible, vile place, and then end up saying something like, "but, I mean, it's not that bad, at least in most places". One day he asked me if there was a good train system. One day he asked me what the CIA was. He always seems to ask me questions with the worse answers.
On Friday morning, I'll start my walk to Jiri, where I can take a bus back to Kathmandu. I've been told I can make it to Jiri in two days, if I hike from sunrise to sunset. But, for some reason, that makes me kind of excited. It's like a challenge….
Friday, July 24, 2009
On Tuesday, after school got out, I was walking with a big group of students and a couple of the staff up to Salleri and I was talking to the principal. He invited me to get some tea at a local teashop, and even bought me a plate of fried momos, and we talked for about half an hour. And then he asked me if I wanted to see his house, and I said sure. On the way, we stopped at Shah's sweet-shop (Shah is teaching now at the school, I don't know if I'd mentioned that before) and the principal bought me another cup of tea, and we talked some more. And then we walked to his house (which he rents with another teacher and houses like 6 or 7 students from the school that live too far away from Nayabazaar to walk to school everyday) and we sat in his room and talked some more. And he brought me another cup of tea (so, that makes three cups of tea).
A couple weeks before, he had told me he was originally from Bhutan but had been forced to leave in the early 90's and had been a refugee since. And since I probably showed how little I knew about Bhutan (I didn't even know Bhutan was a country before coming to Nepal), he had lent me a survey about unregistered Bhutanese refugees living in Nepal, which gave a brief history of the exile of people from Bhutan which started in the late 80's. So, feeling more informed, I was able to ask him more questions about leaving Bhutan and what he's done since. Apparently, as Sonam had told me, the principal used to be one of the most regarded school headmasters in Bhutan before he lost his job and was kicked out of the country. The principal didn't tell me much about this because he said he really didn't like thinking about that period in his life but he did say, briefly, "The government would give you orders to leave the country and if you didn't leave by a certain date that came to your house, bound your hands and feet, and threw you in the back of a truck like a sack of wheat or rice." According to the survey he lent me, there are about 100,000 registered Bhutanese refugees living in Nepal (and the population of Bhutan is only 600,000), and who knows how many unregistered since the Nepali government stopped registering incoming refugees after the flow of people crossing the border dropped a ton after the mid-90's. The principal had lived a long time in India, since his wife is Indian, worked for a number of years as the headmaster at a school in the West Bengal region, but has now worked here in Solukhumbu for a couple years, a long ways away from his wife and two kids who he only gets to see every 4 or 5 months. Apparently, starting in the year 2002, seven countries including the US initiated a plan to take Bhutanese refugees, the US alone agreeing to take 60,000. But, the principal isn't a registered refugee since he arrived in Nepal long after the Nepali government stopped registering people. On the other hand, because he's so well-educated, he's way better off than the tens of thousands of other unregistered Bhutanese refugees that don't receive aid from the Nepali government, which provides schools and health facilities to seven refugee camps that were started in the 90's. Over 1/6 of Bhutanese are in exile because of their cultural heritage. Why had I never heard about any of this before a couple weeks ago?
On Wednesday, there was a total solar eclipse. Apparently, some regions of Nepal were in complete darkness for a couple minutes in the early morning. Here, around 6:45, it started to get a little dark, but nothing close to complete darkness. But, that morning, the Nepali government decided to announce the day was a national holiday (even though the eclipse was over long before people would go to work, or kids would go to school). So, school was cancelled. But I still showed up at school because the vice-principal still needed help typing up the test papers for the exams that start this coming week.
Thursday was the last day of class before exams (cause school was cancelled Friday too, as a "study day") and I spent each class basically telling all the students which topics would appear on their math exams and which wouldn't. To make sure I have work to do next week, besides proctoring exams, I told all the 6th, 7th and 8th graders that I was available anytime if they wanted help in preparation for the exams. I wasn't sure if many of the students would actually take me up on my offer, but that afternoon a group of 6th graders came by my room and led me to one of their houses where we talked about algebraic expression for about an hour and a half. After that, I walked past Salleri to the principal's house, cause he had said I could stop by anytime if I wanted to watch a movie. It had been over two months since I'd seen a movie, and the pickings were slim. He had a couple pirated dvds that had like 8 movies to a disk (cause in Nepal, they lower the video and audio quality of movies so they can cram a ton on a single disk), mostly Hindi movies. The best option was "Mr. and Mrs. Smith," but I didn't really care cause it just felt good to be watching a movie.
Yesterday, since there was no school, I decided to walk to Junbesi, which is a pretty big town a little over three hours away. I had heard there was a really big monastery not far from there. So, I walked about an hour and a half past Junbesi and ended up in Phugmoche, a little town with a monastery and a Buddist school. And then I backtracked and went in another direction towards Thupten Choling, where the super-cool monastery was supposed to be. As I was walking up towards the monastery, past a stream and some really cool water-driven prayer wheels, I passed this really old monk walking really slowly with a cane. And he smiled and motioned for me to follow him. We walked really slowly around the outside of the monastery, which was by far the biggest I'd seen in Nepal, until we reached the main entrance and he motioned for me to go in. I had been told there were about 50 monks at this monastery, but as I entered I saw a couple hundred pairs of shoes sitting outside the main sanctuary ("sanctuary" probably isn't the right word, but I don't know the right word so I'll stick with "sanctuary"). A couple monks were walking around with big pitchers of tea and I kind of motioned towards the sanctuary, as if saying "can I go in?" and they all smiled and nodded. So I walked through a curtain and saw about two hundred monks all sitting cross-legged in lines on the floor, most pointing towards the front of the sanctuary, some chanting from prayer books, others deep in meditation, others not-so focused and kind of looking around. A couple of them looked at me really oddly but I tried to keep my cool and figured if I'd come this far I might as well go in. So, I sat down on one of the few open cushions in the back and smiled at a really young monk who was sitting next to me and giggling. But, just thirty seconds or so after I had sat down, a group of older-looking monks sitting in the center stood up and started filing out. But everyone else remained seated for a couple minutes. Of the monks that were walking out, I noticed that a couple very women and I thought it was really cool that all the monks and annis (that's what lady monks are called, right?) were worshiping together. I then slowly began to realize that most of the monks there were women. And then I realized that ALL the monks were women. You'd think that'd be pretty easy to tell, but when they're all bald and wrapped in thick robes, you'd be surprised. So, then I started to feel pretty awkward cause I realized I'd just crashed a big anni get-together. But everyone was really smiley and welcoming, or at least seemed amused at me showing up and sitting down.
After walking out and awkwardly tying up by big hiking shoes while everyone else just slipped on their flip-flops and slippers, I walked back around the monastery the way I'd come earlier with the older monk. On the way, I passed a bunch of groups of annis that all laughed and said "Namaste." When I had almost reached the edge of the monastery, two stopped me and laughed and said something I didn't understand in Nepali. But then one of them drew a circle clock-wise in the air and I realized that I had failed one of the most basic lessons in monastery etiquette and was walking around the monastery counter clockwise, a no-no. But they laughed and we walked all the way back around the monastery, this time clockwise. I probably should have felt really embarrassed about everything that had happened, but all the monks were super friendly and smiling and, if anything, amused by the silly foreigner that didn't know anything. Even though I'd left Nayabazaar at 5 in the morning, I didn't get back till around 4:30, completely exhausted. A couple 7th graders stopped by and asked for some math help but I told them I was super tired and they agreed to come by the next afternoon.
I don't really have anything going on today, except for helping out the 7th graders later this afternoon. So, I'm probably going to go hang out at the super cool teashop I mentioned in my last post and read "Swann's Way," which is kind of blowing my mind right now.
A couple weeks before, he had told me he was originally from Bhutan but had been forced to leave in the early 90's and had been a refugee since. And since I probably showed how little I knew about Bhutan (I didn't even know Bhutan was a country before coming to Nepal), he had lent me a survey about unregistered Bhutanese refugees living in Nepal, which gave a brief history of the exile of people from Bhutan which started in the late 80's. So, feeling more informed, I was able to ask him more questions about leaving Bhutan and what he's done since. Apparently, as Sonam had told me, the principal used to be one of the most regarded school headmasters in Bhutan before he lost his job and was kicked out of the country. The principal didn't tell me much about this because he said he really didn't like thinking about that period in his life but he did say, briefly, "The government would give you orders to leave the country and if you didn't leave by a certain date that came to your house, bound your hands and feet, and threw you in the back of a truck like a sack of wheat or rice." According to the survey he lent me, there are about 100,000 registered Bhutanese refugees living in Nepal (and the population of Bhutan is only 600,000), and who knows how many unregistered since the Nepali government stopped registering incoming refugees after the flow of people crossing the border dropped a ton after the mid-90's. The principal had lived a long time in India, since his wife is Indian, worked for a number of years as the headmaster at a school in the West Bengal region, but has now worked here in Solukhumbu for a couple years, a long ways away from his wife and two kids who he only gets to see every 4 or 5 months. Apparently, starting in the year 2002, seven countries including the US initiated a plan to take Bhutanese refugees, the US alone agreeing to take 60,000. But, the principal isn't a registered refugee since he arrived in Nepal long after the Nepali government stopped registering people. On the other hand, because he's so well-educated, he's way better off than the tens of thousands of other unregistered Bhutanese refugees that don't receive aid from the Nepali government, which provides schools and health facilities to seven refugee camps that were started in the 90's. Over 1/6 of Bhutanese are in exile because of their cultural heritage. Why had I never heard about any of this before a couple weeks ago?
On Wednesday, there was a total solar eclipse. Apparently, some regions of Nepal were in complete darkness for a couple minutes in the early morning. Here, around 6:45, it started to get a little dark, but nothing close to complete darkness. But, that morning, the Nepali government decided to announce the day was a national holiday (even though the eclipse was over long before people would go to work, or kids would go to school). So, school was cancelled. But I still showed up at school because the vice-principal still needed help typing up the test papers for the exams that start this coming week.
Thursday was the last day of class before exams (cause school was cancelled Friday too, as a "study day") and I spent each class basically telling all the students which topics would appear on their math exams and which wouldn't. To make sure I have work to do next week, besides proctoring exams, I told all the 6th, 7th and 8th graders that I was available anytime if they wanted help in preparation for the exams. I wasn't sure if many of the students would actually take me up on my offer, but that afternoon a group of 6th graders came by my room and led me to one of their houses where we talked about algebraic expression for about an hour and a half. After that, I walked past Salleri to the principal's house, cause he had said I could stop by anytime if I wanted to watch a movie. It had been over two months since I'd seen a movie, and the pickings were slim. He had a couple pirated dvds that had like 8 movies to a disk (cause in Nepal, they lower the video and audio quality of movies so they can cram a ton on a single disk), mostly Hindi movies. The best option was "Mr. and Mrs. Smith," but I didn't really care cause it just felt good to be watching a movie.
Yesterday, since there was no school, I decided to walk to Junbesi, which is a pretty big town a little over three hours away. I had heard there was a really big monastery not far from there. So, I walked about an hour and a half past Junbesi and ended up in Phugmoche, a little town with a monastery and a Buddist school. And then I backtracked and went in another direction towards Thupten Choling, where the super-cool monastery was supposed to be. As I was walking up towards the monastery, past a stream and some really cool water-driven prayer wheels, I passed this really old monk walking really slowly with a cane. And he smiled and motioned for me to follow him. We walked really slowly around the outside of the monastery, which was by far the biggest I'd seen in Nepal, until we reached the main entrance and he motioned for me to go in. I had been told there were about 50 monks at this monastery, but as I entered I saw a couple hundred pairs of shoes sitting outside the main sanctuary ("sanctuary" probably isn't the right word, but I don't know the right word so I'll stick with "sanctuary"). A couple monks were walking around with big pitchers of tea and I kind of motioned towards the sanctuary, as if saying "can I go in?" and they all smiled and nodded. So I walked through a curtain and saw about two hundred monks all sitting cross-legged in lines on the floor, most pointing towards the front of the sanctuary, some chanting from prayer books, others deep in meditation, others not-so focused and kind of looking around. A couple of them looked at me really oddly but I tried to keep my cool and figured if I'd come this far I might as well go in. So, I sat down on one of the few open cushions in the back and smiled at a really young monk who was sitting next to me and giggling. But, just thirty seconds or so after I had sat down, a group of older-looking monks sitting in the center stood up and started filing out. But everyone else remained seated for a couple minutes. Of the monks that were walking out, I noticed that a couple very women and I thought it was really cool that all the monks and annis (that's what lady monks are called, right?) were worshiping together. I then slowly began to realize that most of the monks there were women. And then I realized that ALL the monks were women. You'd think that'd be pretty easy to tell, but when they're all bald and wrapped in thick robes, you'd be surprised. So, then I started to feel pretty awkward cause I realized I'd just crashed a big anni get-together. But everyone was really smiley and welcoming, or at least seemed amused at me showing up and sitting down.
After walking out and awkwardly tying up by big hiking shoes while everyone else just slipped on their flip-flops and slippers, I walked back around the monastery the way I'd come earlier with the older monk. On the way, I passed a bunch of groups of annis that all laughed and said "Namaste." When I had almost reached the edge of the monastery, two stopped me and laughed and said something I didn't understand in Nepali. But then one of them drew a circle clock-wise in the air and I realized that I had failed one of the most basic lessons in monastery etiquette and was walking around the monastery counter clockwise, a no-no. But they laughed and we walked all the way back around the monastery, this time clockwise. I probably should have felt really embarrassed about everything that had happened, but all the monks were super friendly and smiling and, if anything, amused by the silly foreigner that didn't know anything. Even though I'd left Nayabazaar at 5 in the morning, I didn't get back till around 4:30, completely exhausted. A couple 7th graders stopped by and asked for some math help but I told them I was super tired and they agreed to come by the next afternoon.
I don't really have anything going on today, except for helping out the 7th graders later this afternoon. So, I'm probably going to go hang out at the super cool teashop I mentioned in my last post and read "Swann's Way," which is kind of blowing my mind right now.
Monday, July 20, 2009
beards + leeches = beardleeches
Yesterday, I was sitting at a computer in the vice-principal's office. And I reached up to scratch my chin…(and I haven't shaved since I've arrived in Nepal. At first it was out of laziness, but up here in Nayabazaar, there's not a mirror anywhere in the house, so I just decided to shave when I got back to Kathmandu. And since it's been a long while, I feel I've made the transition from facial hair to beardage.)…and I felt a little clump of something in my beard. And I scratched it and it came off and landed in the palm of my hand. And then it started to squirm around. It was a leech. I've seen a bunch of leeches since I've gotten here, but this was the first time I'd found one on me. It was just a little one though. And I ran my fingers through my hair and I'm pretty sure there aren't any more crawling around and sucking my blood.
I've had a lot more work at the school lately. All of the students have first-term exams starting next week and all of the exams have to be typed up. But, since all of the school staff either can't type or can't type very fast, I've been given the assignment of typing up loads of exam papers, from kindergarten (why do kindergarteners have final exams??) up to 10th grade. So, when I arrive in the morning, I go straight to the vice-principal's office where there are a couple computers, and I start typing. And then I go teach my three classes (for which I've had to write exams), eat lunch, and go back to the office for more typing. It can get pretty boring. But, I've started bringing my ipod and connecting it to the computer speakers and listening to music while working. Sharon Jones kept me company today.
Last week, I gave the 8th graders a math test. So, I wrote the questions on the chalk board, they all copied them, and then they all went out to the volleyball court and spread out and took the test. And I kind of walked around and did my best to make sure nobody cheated, even though most of them tried. When there was just a couple minutes left, one student came towards me with his finished test, and on the way over dropped a piece of paper near a friend of his. It was pretty sneaky, but I saw it. I figured it probably had answers on it, but I gave the kid near it a dirty look, a look of "don't you dare look at that piece of paper," and the kid looked away. I was gonna go pick it up, but the bell rang and all the students swarmed me with their tests. Later, when grading the tests, I realized that I had two absolutely identical test papers, except with different student names on them. One kid had made two copies of his answers and passed one to his friend, who wrote his name on the top. And the copies didn't even look kinda different. They looked ridiculously identical. It was the absolute dumbest example of cheating I had ever seen. I showed the copies to Sonam and he laughed, pointed at each paper and said, "Yeah, this kid is really smart. This kid is really dumb." Since I figured this was a pretty huge case of cheating, the copying of an entire test paper, I took the students to the principle's office after class. Take that, cheaters.
Usually, after school, I walk to Salleri with a big group of the kids and go hang out in this little restaurant in the middle of town. If you walk past the little kitchen in the back, there's some stairs that lead up to this outdoor area where there's a table and some plastic chairs. There are plants and flowers all around and there's usually wet clothes hanging on lines cause that's where the family that owns the restaurant does their laundry. And it's really homey and great. And there's almost never anyone out there. So, I usually get a cup of tea and sit out there and read for a while. And then go back to Nayabazaar in time to catch the Aljazeera 5:45 news.
On Saturday, I walked up to Chialsa and then kept going for another 2 hours or so, just walking up a path not really knowing where I was going. I passed a couple kids that had a couple hundred plums spread out on a blanket by the path and I bought 20 for 5 rupees (so, for the price of about 300/$1). And I just kept walking, eating plums and chewing on the seeds, sometimes passing through little towns in the middle of nowhere. I eventually stopped a one little house and got some tea. A family that had also stopped there was eating lunch and they shared a big piece of flat bread with me. And then I walked back to Nayabazaar, eating plums. It was nice.
I've had a lot more work at the school lately. All of the students have first-term exams starting next week and all of the exams have to be typed up. But, since all of the school staff either can't type or can't type very fast, I've been given the assignment of typing up loads of exam papers, from kindergarten (why do kindergarteners have final exams??) up to 10th grade. So, when I arrive in the morning, I go straight to the vice-principal's office where there are a couple computers, and I start typing. And then I go teach my three classes (for which I've had to write exams), eat lunch, and go back to the office for more typing. It can get pretty boring. But, I've started bringing my ipod and connecting it to the computer speakers and listening to music while working. Sharon Jones kept me company today.
Last week, I gave the 8th graders a math test. So, I wrote the questions on the chalk board, they all copied them, and then they all went out to the volleyball court and spread out and took the test. And I kind of walked around and did my best to make sure nobody cheated, even though most of them tried. When there was just a couple minutes left, one student came towards me with his finished test, and on the way over dropped a piece of paper near a friend of his. It was pretty sneaky, but I saw it. I figured it probably had answers on it, but I gave the kid near it a dirty look, a look of "don't you dare look at that piece of paper," and the kid looked away. I was gonna go pick it up, but the bell rang and all the students swarmed me with their tests. Later, when grading the tests, I realized that I had two absolutely identical test papers, except with different student names on them. One kid had made two copies of his answers and passed one to his friend, who wrote his name on the top. And the copies didn't even look kinda different. They looked ridiculously identical. It was the absolute dumbest example of cheating I had ever seen. I showed the copies to Sonam and he laughed, pointed at each paper and said, "Yeah, this kid is really smart. This kid is really dumb." Since I figured this was a pretty huge case of cheating, the copying of an entire test paper, I took the students to the principle's office after class. Take that, cheaters.
Usually, after school, I walk to Salleri with a big group of the kids and go hang out in this little restaurant in the middle of town. If you walk past the little kitchen in the back, there's some stairs that lead up to this outdoor area where there's a table and some plastic chairs. There are plants and flowers all around and there's usually wet clothes hanging on lines cause that's where the family that owns the restaurant does their laundry. And it's really homey and great. And there's almost never anyone out there. So, I usually get a cup of tea and sit out there and read for a while. And then go back to Nayabazaar in time to catch the Aljazeera 5:45 news.
On Saturday, I walked up to Chialsa and then kept going for another 2 hours or so, just walking up a path not really knowing where I was going. I passed a couple kids that had a couple hundred plums spread out on a blanket by the path and I bought 20 for 5 rupees (so, for the price of about 300/$1). And I just kept walking, eating plums and chewing on the seeds, sometimes passing through little towns in the middle of nowhere. I eventually stopped a one little house and got some tea. A family that had also stopped there was eating lunch and they shared a big piece of flat bread with me. And then I walked back to Nayabazaar, eating plums. It was nice.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Sorry it's been a while since I've posted. For five or six days, there wasn't any internet. A phone tower was down or something.
Right now, it's raining. It's been raining for the last six or seven hours. I was supposed to give the seventh graders a test today but I couldn’t because of the rain. Usually, the students take tests outside, scattered under the trees. If the 25 of them took the test all cramped together in the classroom, they would just copy each other's papers. Outside is the only place where the classes take tests. But not when it rains. So, we did a "practice test" indoors and I told them the real test would be tomorrow.
I think most of the teachers just accept that almost all of the students at the school cheat and copy off their classmates in tests and homework, and don't really do much about it. So, I think the seventh and eighth graders were really surprised when I brought in some homework I had collected and, with as angry a tone as I could muster, pointed out all the homework that had been copied. These students are the absolute worst cheaters I have ever seen. They're not even good at it. It's so obvious which students have copied from another student because they copy everything EXACTLY as the other student had it. If one student makes a really silly mistake, four or five other students make the exact same silly mistake. For the first homework assignment I gave the eight graders, of which there are over 25, only three did the work and at least didn't make it obvious that they had copied someone else's. I've started a serious crackdown on homework. Take that middle-schoolers.
I'm spending a whole lot more time at the school because I'm not longer going up to the monastery in Chialsa in the afternoons to teach. In the group of six monks I was teaching, I kind of got the impression that three or four of them didn't really want to be there. And I didn't want them to feel like they had to come to classes they really didn't want to come to. Plus, I was beginning to realize that classes were going to start to get really difficult for me. The language barrier makes teaching English really really difficult, and I wasn't really sure what I was going to do after I covered all the really basic stuff. But I'm still going up there every once in a while just to say hey to Namdaal, the Tibetan teacher, and the other monks. So, now I'm at the school from 9:45 to 3:45 every day, either teaching class or sitting in the "staff room" grading homework or reading a book. But I think the principal is going to give me some more work to do in the next couple days, since all grades are getting ready to take end-of-term exams.
Now that I'm at the school the whole day, walking up with the kids in the morning and walking down with them in the afternoons, I'm getting to know a lot of the students and teachers a lot better. Sonam, one of the youngest teachers at the school, invited me over to his house for breakfast Friday morning before school. He has a kind of extra-curricular tutoring program that operates at his house in the mornings from 6-8 with about 30 students from the school, but after they left we had some really good dhalbaat and fish from the river, heads and fins and all.
The school runs Sunday to Friday (even though on Friday they only have three periods and then usually have volleyball tournaments and stuff) so on Saturdays I've started hiking to different places in the area. Last Saturday, I went to Chiwang Monastery, about three hours away from Nayabazzaar. It's atop a huge cliff on a mountainside, a 45 minute hike down to the nearest town, and it's ridiculously beautiful. By the time I got up there, clouds had already covered the mountain, but every once in a while the clouds would part and give just a peek at the view. Yesterday, I walked down by the river to Beni (which is just two houses and a school) and up a mountain on the other side of the river, not really knowing where I was going. After reaching a little town about 4 1/2 hours from Nayabazaar, I got some tea at a little restaurant and turned back. Next Saturday, Sonam told me he's going to take me up to a lookout about two hours up from Phaplu where you can see Everest on a clear day (which you don't really get in the monsoon season, but you never know).
Right now, it's raining. It's been raining for the last six or seven hours. I was supposed to give the seventh graders a test today but I couldn’t because of the rain. Usually, the students take tests outside, scattered under the trees. If the 25 of them took the test all cramped together in the classroom, they would just copy each other's papers. Outside is the only place where the classes take tests. But not when it rains. So, we did a "practice test" indoors and I told them the real test would be tomorrow.
I think most of the teachers just accept that almost all of the students at the school cheat and copy off their classmates in tests and homework, and don't really do much about it. So, I think the seventh and eighth graders were really surprised when I brought in some homework I had collected and, with as angry a tone as I could muster, pointed out all the homework that had been copied. These students are the absolute worst cheaters I have ever seen. They're not even good at it. It's so obvious which students have copied from another student because they copy everything EXACTLY as the other student had it. If one student makes a really silly mistake, four or five other students make the exact same silly mistake. For the first homework assignment I gave the eight graders, of which there are over 25, only three did the work and at least didn't make it obvious that they had copied someone else's. I've started a serious crackdown on homework. Take that middle-schoolers.
I'm spending a whole lot more time at the school because I'm not longer going up to the monastery in Chialsa in the afternoons to teach. In the group of six monks I was teaching, I kind of got the impression that three or four of them didn't really want to be there. And I didn't want them to feel like they had to come to classes they really didn't want to come to. Plus, I was beginning to realize that classes were going to start to get really difficult for me. The language barrier makes teaching English really really difficult, and I wasn't really sure what I was going to do after I covered all the really basic stuff. But I'm still going up there every once in a while just to say hey to Namdaal, the Tibetan teacher, and the other monks. So, now I'm at the school from 9:45 to 3:45 every day, either teaching class or sitting in the "staff room" grading homework or reading a book. But I think the principal is going to give me some more work to do in the next couple days, since all grades are getting ready to take end-of-term exams.
Now that I'm at the school the whole day, walking up with the kids in the morning and walking down with them in the afternoons, I'm getting to know a lot of the students and teachers a lot better. Sonam, one of the youngest teachers at the school, invited me over to his house for breakfast Friday morning before school. He has a kind of extra-curricular tutoring program that operates at his house in the mornings from 6-8 with about 30 students from the school, but after they left we had some really good dhalbaat and fish from the river, heads and fins and all.
The school runs Sunday to Friday (even though on Friday they only have three periods and then usually have volleyball tournaments and stuff) so on Saturdays I've started hiking to different places in the area. Last Saturday, I went to Chiwang Monastery, about three hours away from Nayabazzaar. It's atop a huge cliff on a mountainside, a 45 minute hike down to the nearest town, and it's ridiculously beautiful. By the time I got up there, clouds had already covered the mountain, but every once in a while the clouds would part and give just a peek at the view. Yesterday, I walked down by the river to Beni (which is just two houses and a school) and up a mountain on the other side of the river, not really knowing where I was going. After reaching a little town about 4 1/2 hours from Nayabazaar, I got some tea at a little restaurant and turned back. Next Saturday, Sonam told me he's going to take me up to a lookout about two hours up from Phaplu where you can see Everest on a clear day (which you don't really get in the monsoon season, but you never know).
Friday, July 3, 2009
The monsoon season has finally kicked in. It started a few weeks late this year but now it's raining every day. I've started going to Chialsa monastery in the afternoons because my schedule at the school changed and it's not unusual for it to start raining while I' hiking up or down the mountain. Everything gets really muddy and slippery but so far I've managed only minor slips and falls.
When I got back to the school on Sunday, I was greeted by the daily "GOOD MORNING TO YOU SIR," which is getting slightly less creepy since they seem to be doing it with less enthusiasm each day. I think they realize how much it weirds me out. I always walk into class and kind of turn my back to them while they're doing it, and then I always freak out when I eventually turn around and they're still standing up all staring at me (they won't sit down until you tell them to...). I'm now teaching 6th grade math too, and the 6th graders can get pretty annoying. When I ask a question to the class they all SCREAM out the answer as loudly as they can. So, I'm doing my best to teach them how to answer quietly.
Natalie was supposed to leave Sunday morning but her flight was cancelled because of the weather. Apparently it was the fifth day in a row that flights had been cancelled. When even met two trekkers we had met near Namche (one from the States, one from Paraguay) who had walked all the way to Phaplu because the Luklu airport had shut down because of the weather. But, Monday morning, the weather was nice and Natalie was able to fly out. Later that day, I showed up at the school for class and there was no one to be found. Apparently that morning the principal had received news that a bunch of the 10th graders had gotten high marks in their national exams and had cancelled school. School kids in Nepal get a ridiculous amount of days off. There are a ridiculous number of national holidays, and anytime any group or organization has any type of political or social grievance, they call for a strike and everything shuts down, including schools. A couple weeks ago, a group that had separated from the Maoists held a strike in Salleri and the school in Nayabazaar shut down, even though most people didn't have anything to do with the strike or even know what it was about. It's not a big deal when school is cancelled. It sort of fits in with how relaxed Nepali culture is. Everyone just says "Ke garne?" - "What to do?"
Wednesday morning, one of the VSN Nepali-teachers from Kathmandu showed up at the house (I can't remember his name. I've been trying to figure it out.), told me his brother was getting married and asked me if I wanted to come. As we walked to Durga, which is like a thirty minute walk past Nayabazaar, he told me we weren't on our way to an actual wedding but a kind of ceremony to celebrate the arrival of his brother's bride, and after a lot of questioning I got most of the story. His family and the bride's family had been in talks about arranging a marriage (most weddings in Nepal are arranged), and the previous week his brother had walked nine hours to his perspective bride's town to meet her and talk with her family. This was the first time he had ever met her but, deciding he liked her and she accepting his proposal, they decided to get married. On Tuesday, the bride had made the long trip to Durga. Wednesday, there was a ceremony at a house in Durga (i'm not really sure who's house it was) where everyone present (including me) got a tika on their forehead (I don't really know enough about Hindu culture to properly describe what a tika is, but people seem to get them on many different occasions. Someone basically smudges this red paste mixed with rice kernals and stuff on your forehead). And then there was a big procession of friends and family from Durga to Salleri, with the bride and groom near the front, where the bride was introduced to the rest of the groom's family. I didn't get to stay for the whole thing, but it was really fascinating. Also, I got a free lunch, which was pretty sweet. And I got to eat with my hands for the first time since I've been here. Most people eat with their hands in Nepal, but the family I'm staying with always gives me a spoon. It was kind of fun eating this big, wet, sloppy mess of rice and vegetables with my hands.
In other news, I discovered, much to my surprise, that my host family's tv has a couple English channels. I knew there was a tv in a kind of secret living room on the second floor, but I wouldn't have guessed there were any English channels. Natalie had been here like 8 weeks and hadn't known. So, every afternoon, after I hike down from Chialsa, I get my daily dose of Aljazeera News. I'm starting to really like Aljazeera, even though it doesn't really try to hide its bias most of the time. Most news networks in the US don't really have the international scope that Aljazeera has. And it always seem to be covering things that actually matter, like the US turnover of major cities in Iraq, the coup in Honduras, the Yemenian Airbus crash, the Iranian election aftermath. Yesterday there was a huge special about human rights violations in Nigerian prisons. I feel more well-informed up here in the Nepali mountains than I do in Davidson.
When I got back to the school on Sunday, I was greeted by the daily "GOOD MORNING TO YOU SIR," which is getting slightly less creepy since they seem to be doing it with less enthusiasm each day. I think they realize how much it weirds me out. I always walk into class and kind of turn my back to them while they're doing it, and then I always freak out when I eventually turn around and they're still standing up all staring at me (they won't sit down until you tell them to...). I'm now teaching 6th grade math too, and the 6th graders can get pretty annoying. When I ask a question to the class they all SCREAM out the answer as loudly as they can. So, I'm doing my best to teach them how to answer quietly.
Natalie was supposed to leave Sunday morning but her flight was cancelled because of the weather. Apparently it was the fifth day in a row that flights had been cancelled. When even met two trekkers we had met near Namche (one from the States, one from Paraguay) who had walked all the way to Phaplu because the Luklu airport had shut down because of the weather. But, Monday morning, the weather was nice and Natalie was able to fly out. Later that day, I showed up at the school for class and there was no one to be found. Apparently that morning the principal had received news that a bunch of the 10th graders had gotten high marks in their national exams and had cancelled school. School kids in Nepal get a ridiculous amount of days off. There are a ridiculous number of national holidays, and anytime any group or organization has any type of political or social grievance, they call for a strike and everything shuts down, including schools. A couple weeks ago, a group that had separated from the Maoists held a strike in Salleri and the school in Nayabazaar shut down, even though most people didn't have anything to do with the strike or even know what it was about. It's not a big deal when school is cancelled. It sort of fits in with how relaxed Nepali culture is. Everyone just says "Ke garne?" - "What to do?"
Wednesday morning, one of the VSN Nepali-teachers from Kathmandu showed up at the house (I can't remember his name. I've been trying to figure it out.), told me his brother was getting married and asked me if I wanted to come. As we walked to Durga, which is like a thirty minute walk past Nayabazaar, he told me we weren't on our way to an actual wedding but a kind of ceremony to celebrate the arrival of his brother's bride, and after a lot of questioning I got most of the story. His family and the bride's family had been in talks about arranging a marriage (most weddings in Nepal are arranged), and the previous week his brother had walked nine hours to his perspective bride's town to meet her and talk with her family. This was the first time he had ever met her but, deciding he liked her and she accepting his proposal, they decided to get married. On Tuesday, the bride had made the long trip to Durga. Wednesday, there was a ceremony at a house in Durga (i'm not really sure who's house it was) where everyone present (including me) got a tika on their forehead (I don't really know enough about Hindu culture to properly describe what a tika is, but people seem to get them on many different occasions. Someone basically smudges this red paste mixed with rice kernals and stuff on your forehead). And then there was a big procession of friends and family from Durga to Salleri, with the bride and groom near the front, where the bride was introduced to the rest of the groom's family. I didn't get to stay for the whole thing, but it was really fascinating. Also, I got a free lunch, which was pretty sweet. And I got to eat with my hands for the first time since I've been here. Most people eat with their hands in Nepal, but the family I'm staying with always gives me a spoon. It was kind of fun eating this big, wet, sloppy mess of rice and vegetables with my hands.
In other news, I discovered, much to my surprise, that my host family's tv has a couple English channels. I knew there was a tv in a kind of secret living room on the second floor, but I wouldn't have guessed there were any English channels. Natalie had been here like 8 weeks and hadn't known. So, every afternoon, after I hike down from Chialsa, I get my daily dose of Aljazeera News. I'm starting to really like Aljazeera, even though it doesn't really try to hide its bias most of the time. Most news networks in the US don't really have the international scope that Aljazeera has. And it always seem to be covering things that actually matter, like the US turnover of major cities in Iraq, the coup in Honduras, the Yemenian Airbus crash, the Iranian election aftermath. Yesterday there was a huge special about human rights violations in Nigerian prisons. I feel more well-informed up here in the Nepali mountains than I do in Davidson.
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