March 24, 2010
I’ve come up with a list of the top reasons everyone should live without water and electricity at least once in their live. Hope you enjoy!
1) Living without electricity is cheaper on the power bill. Really, you pay way less when your power’s off half the time!
2) Living without water is cheaper on the water bill. I think we pay around 55 rupees (less than one dollar) a month for water.
3) You learn to be incredibly careful with your time. You wake up in the morning thinking, now when should there be power today? What do I need to do during those precious few hours?!
4) You build lots of muscles for free hauling water up the stairs while trying not to use the toilet at the same time. No gym necessary, and the more times you use the toilet during the day, the stronger you’ll become!
5) No power forces all the children to leave the TV room during the holidays for most of the day. It’s good for them to get some fresh air!
6) Everything’s more romantic by candlelight- dinner, studying, using the toilet. Ok, maybe not that last one, but it is kinda fun to be reading by candle light. I just pretend I’m on the old west frontier with my covered wagon parked out front!
7) You pray for heat to melt the snow so more power comes fastly (that’s an English word in Nepal, really.). Of course, with that heat comes sweat and stink, and there’s no water to wash, so you learn to really appreciate everyone’s bathing days!
8) That said, bathing is overrated, and if you have no water to bathe, then you use that time for other things. Like moaning about there being no power and water.
9) It’s rather humorous to see children RUNNING up the stairs with a bucket of water sloshing this way and that in a desperate attempt to make it to the toilet on time!
10) You become INCREDIBLY efficient with the little water available. For instance, my little handwashing water becomes foot washing water after it’s been used and then it becomes toilet flushing water. It’s called recycling ;).
11) When the power’s out in the evenings it becomes a “forced curfew,” allowing your body to get that much craved sleep as you may as well go to sleep at 9 since, well, that candle’s about to finish anyway!
12) You start having dreams about going on cruises with friends- on oceans of drinkable water... you dive in and just start drinking and drinking and don’t have to worry about saving some for later because, well there’s a whole ocean of it!
13) And last but not least, you’re just that much more thankful for those times with power and water! And you definitely won’t take them for granted again...
Monday, March 29, 2010
Went down to the river... washed in the water!
March 21, 2010
Going out to the river is an all afternoon experience. We bring buckets full of collected dirty clothes (and grudgingly agree to do the laundry of those not joining us ;)!) and clothes soap and shampoo and body soap and water to drink and usually some snacks. Then, we walk about 15 minutes through our community, before reaching the hill leading down to the river. The hike down is on the verge of dangerous as we juggle buckets, large wash bowls and trashcans full of essential items for an afternoon in the sun. Unfortunately, that hike back up AFTER washing everything is killer- I never knew my lungs and calves could burn so much!
I’ve been enough now that I have a “spot” where I go every time! Now before you go thinking this is the Mississippi river or the Guadalupe, let me tell you it’s not, at least not now. At the widest spots it’s no more than 12 feet wide, and only a foot or two deep. But I figure as the snow melts on the mountains (which it is now!!!), the level will continue to rise. Anyway, there’s this spot with this rocky “island” and several large rocks which Arun so kindly relocated for me to use. I proceed to put all of our junk on the island, and then divide the clothes up to wash and begin the process.
I half fill one of the buckets with clean water flowing over a rocky dam Arun built for me, and then add powdered soap. I squish squash the clothes for a good 3 minutes watching with wonder as the water turns a deep chocolate brown. Then, I lodge the bucket between three rocks that make a tripod for me and squat in the middle of the river, using two of the largest stones as my table. Their tops are about the size of a large flat rate USPS box (guess you can tell what’s lying around my room!) and I use one for finished clothes and one for the clothes I’m soaping. I then take each garment individually soaping it, scrubbing it with the brush, and then throwing it on the finished rock. After each load is finished, I proceed to fill the bucket halfway, rinsing each piece individually over and over again. This keeps me from stirring up dirt as I work, keeping the clothes a little cleaner!
Finally, I lay the clothes on the dry grass adorning the banks of the river or on sheets that are laying out in the sun. Then it’s on to another load! While us girls wash and wash and wash some more, though, the boys move here and there, looking for a good swimming hole. Unfortunately for them, we’re not the only ones at the river, and other people will scold them for stirring up dirt into the water, so they have to search pretty well. When they do find a decent hole (of about 2 feet deep, maybe 2.5 if you’re really lucky), they begin to float nicely like all boys do in the pool. Except not. Last time, I had to warn Prabin that if he baptized anyone I would make him stay out of the water for the rest of the day. Really. He was baptizing Raju, Darshan, and attempting to baptize Arun, but unfortunately for him, Arun’s bigger than him! But his baptisms were long and prolonged, and ended with the boys screaming bloody murder. So, I had to end his fun. But most of the time they’re just splashing and playing with one another, and finally bathing nicely.
The past two times that we’ve gone, though, we’ve had an unwelcome guest. There’s this man who lives down by the river (I hope he does anyway, otherwise he just lurks there all the time), and he’ll casually pick a spot about 30-50 yards away from us and just sit and watch. It’s creepy. If I knew Nepali and was braver, I might tell him off, but, I don’t and I’m not, so I just hurry the girls through the washing, and pack us up and head home. This past time we actually moved up the river after washing all our clothes so us girls could wash our hair out of his sight, but a few minutes after we found a good spot, he came sauntering by, walking by slowly, then turning and walking back by. I’ve never been so glad to have 4 teenage boys constantly checking up on the girls and I! The boys will make great dads one day! Maybe it's growing up with 15 other kids hanging around ;)...
Going out to the river is an all afternoon experience. We bring buckets full of collected dirty clothes (and grudgingly agree to do the laundry of those not joining us ;)!) and clothes soap and shampoo and body soap and water to drink and usually some snacks. Then, we walk about 15 minutes through our community, before reaching the hill leading down to the river. The hike down is on the verge of dangerous as we juggle buckets, large wash bowls and trashcans full of essential items for an afternoon in the sun. Unfortunately, that hike back up AFTER washing everything is killer- I never knew my lungs and calves could burn so much!
I’ve been enough now that I have a “spot” where I go every time! Now before you go thinking this is the Mississippi river or the Guadalupe, let me tell you it’s not, at least not now. At the widest spots it’s no more than 12 feet wide, and only a foot or two deep. But I figure as the snow melts on the mountains (which it is now!!!), the level will continue to rise. Anyway, there’s this spot with this rocky “island” and several large rocks which Arun so kindly relocated for me to use. I proceed to put all of our junk on the island, and then divide the clothes up to wash and begin the process.
I half fill one of the buckets with clean water flowing over a rocky dam Arun built for me, and then add powdered soap. I squish squash the clothes for a good 3 minutes watching with wonder as the water turns a deep chocolate brown. Then, I lodge the bucket between three rocks that make a tripod for me and squat in the middle of the river, using two of the largest stones as my table. Their tops are about the size of a large flat rate USPS box (guess you can tell what’s lying around my room!) and I use one for finished clothes and one for the clothes I’m soaping. I then take each garment individually soaping it, scrubbing it with the brush, and then throwing it on the finished rock. After each load is finished, I proceed to fill the bucket halfway, rinsing each piece individually over and over again. This keeps me from stirring up dirt as I work, keeping the clothes a little cleaner!
Finally, I lay the clothes on the dry grass adorning the banks of the river or on sheets that are laying out in the sun. Then it’s on to another load! While us girls wash and wash and wash some more, though, the boys move here and there, looking for a good swimming hole. Unfortunately for them, we’re not the only ones at the river, and other people will scold them for stirring up dirt into the water, so they have to search pretty well. When they do find a decent hole (of about 2 feet deep, maybe 2.5 if you’re really lucky), they begin to float nicely like all boys do in the pool. Except not. Last time, I had to warn Prabin that if he baptized anyone I would make him stay out of the water for the rest of the day. Really. He was baptizing Raju, Darshan, and attempting to baptize Arun, but unfortunately for him, Arun’s bigger than him! But his baptisms were long and prolonged, and ended with the boys screaming bloody murder. So, I had to end his fun. But most of the time they’re just splashing and playing with one another, and finally bathing nicely.
The past two times that we’ve gone, though, we’ve had an unwelcome guest. There’s this man who lives down by the river (I hope he does anyway, otherwise he just lurks there all the time), and he’ll casually pick a spot about 30-50 yards away from us and just sit and watch. It’s creepy. If I knew Nepali and was braver, I might tell him off, but, I don’t and I’m not, so I just hurry the girls through the washing, and pack us up and head home. This past time we actually moved up the river after washing all our clothes so us girls could wash our hair out of his sight, but a few minutes after we found a good spot, he came sauntering by, walking by slowly, then turning and walking back by. I’ve never been so glad to have 4 teenage boys constantly checking up on the girls and I! The boys will make great dads one day! Maybe it's growing up with 15 other kids hanging around ;)...
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Love. NOW!
March 17, 2010
Now, I haven’t been “parenting” very long, but it’s been one of those trial by fire experiences. I’ve had all the “He hit me!” “Because she’s teasing me!” episodes along with the frantic, “Sister, I need a ruler, compass, blue pen, black pen, and the most hard to find pen nip. BEFORE we go to school in 5 minutes!” Or the, “I washed his shirt accidentally and now he’s wearing it and he didn’t wash mine so I don’t have anything to wear to school because that one smells!” My typical response has become one that my mom used to use with us quite often, “Is this a problem you want me to solve?!” I don’t think they quite understand the question, but their momentary pause in the complaint is worth the misunderstood question.
However, I have the occasional serious episode, which usually involves one of the younger children crying because one of the older ones was beating them or yelling at them. Well, we hit a climatic point the other day, as I found one of the younger boys with full out gut wrenching sobs echoing in the kids dining room, sitting alone. I knelt down next to him, trying to get him calmed down enough for me to understand what had happened. In a halting, hiccup filled statement he explained that the older boys were beating him and scolding him and always treat the younger boys as servants and there’s nothing they can do to stop it. Now, you might think that he was overreacting, and he probably was to some extent, but I’ve had several discussions with the older boys about NOT disciplining the younger boys as they are not parents. Since this wasn’t the first instance where I’d heard of or seen the older boys overstepping their bounds with the younger ones, I took them inside the dining hall, sat them down, and lit into them. We went through all the ways they are to LOVE their younger brothers, not beat them and treat them as slaves. When I finished, I had two remorseful, sullen boys on my hands, just in time for devotionals.
I mulled over the incident during the songs, and I decided to deviate from our “next” passage and we went through 1 Corinthians 13 instead for our Bible study. We talked about how if Jesus had seen a child crying, He would have scooped him up on His lap and hugged him and let His love fill the child’s bones. I understand that they’re kids and they’ll fight and cry and all, but we had gone too far. So, after we finished reading, I gave each of them a sheet of paper and they had to write their name on the top. Then we proceeded to pass the papers around the table, writing one thing we loved about whomever’s paper we currently had. They were required to write on every single person’s paper, and it took some of them awhile. To make it interesting, they weren’t allowed to write the same thing twice! We had the typical “I love you because you are funny” but we also had the more serious “I love you because when I’m sad you listen and help me feel better.” By then end, everyone was smiling and I’m praying they realized that there’s something to love in every one of their brothers and sisters.
When everyone had written on everyone else’s paper, I collected them (so I could write on them later that night; as mediator making sure everyone was playing fair, I didn’t have time to then!) to their dismay. I promised to return them the next morning, and then headed off to write my notes to them. The next morning, I handed them back out after breakfast, and you would have thought I had given them gold as excited as they were (and I guess in some ways I did give them a piece of gold...)! All 14 wandered around outside, reading, laughing, and commenting on why their “siblings” loved them. I know they’re not going to change overnight, but the love in that moment was worth the hours work the night before! I think it got them thinking about how there’s something to love in every one of us, because God’s created each of us! We can’t always see what God’s plans are for each of us or even how He’s working in our hearts, but with faith we know that “now we see as in a mirror, but then we shall see face to face...” (1 Cor 13). And I saw a lot more love yesterday than I had in awhile!
Now, I haven’t been “parenting” very long, but it’s been one of those trial by fire experiences. I’ve had all the “He hit me!” “Because she’s teasing me!” episodes along with the frantic, “Sister, I need a ruler, compass, blue pen, black pen, and the most hard to find pen nip. BEFORE we go to school in 5 minutes!” Or the, “I washed his shirt accidentally and now he’s wearing it and he didn’t wash mine so I don’t have anything to wear to school because that one smells!” My typical response has become one that my mom used to use with us quite often, “Is this a problem you want me to solve?!” I don’t think they quite understand the question, but their momentary pause in the complaint is worth the misunderstood question.
However, I have the occasional serious episode, which usually involves one of the younger children crying because one of the older ones was beating them or yelling at them. Well, we hit a climatic point the other day, as I found one of the younger boys with full out gut wrenching sobs echoing in the kids dining room, sitting alone. I knelt down next to him, trying to get him calmed down enough for me to understand what had happened. In a halting, hiccup filled statement he explained that the older boys were beating him and scolding him and always treat the younger boys as servants and there’s nothing they can do to stop it. Now, you might think that he was overreacting, and he probably was to some extent, but I’ve had several discussions with the older boys about NOT disciplining the younger boys as they are not parents. Since this wasn’t the first instance where I’d heard of or seen the older boys overstepping their bounds with the younger ones, I took them inside the dining hall, sat them down, and lit into them. We went through all the ways they are to LOVE their younger brothers, not beat them and treat them as slaves. When I finished, I had two remorseful, sullen boys on my hands, just in time for devotionals.
I mulled over the incident during the songs, and I decided to deviate from our “next” passage and we went through 1 Corinthians 13 instead for our Bible study. We talked about how if Jesus had seen a child crying, He would have scooped him up on His lap and hugged him and let His love fill the child’s bones. I understand that they’re kids and they’ll fight and cry and all, but we had gone too far. So, after we finished reading, I gave each of them a sheet of paper and they had to write their name on the top. Then we proceeded to pass the papers around the table, writing one thing we loved about whomever’s paper we currently had. They were required to write on every single person’s paper, and it took some of them awhile. To make it interesting, they weren’t allowed to write the same thing twice! We had the typical “I love you because you are funny” but we also had the more serious “I love you because when I’m sad you listen and help me feel better.” By then end, everyone was smiling and I’m praying they realized that there’s something to love in every one of their brothers and sisters.
When everyone had written on everyone else’s paper, I collected them (so I could write on them later that night; as mediator making sure everyone was playing fair, I didn’t have time to then!) to their dismay. I promised to return them the next morning, and then headed off to write my notes to them. The next morning, I handed them back out after breakfast, and you would have thought I had given them gold as excited as they were (and I guess in some ways I did give them a piece of gold...)! All 14 wandered around outside, reading, laughing, and commenting on why their “siblings” loved them. I know they’re not going to change overnight, but the love in that moment was worth the hours work the night before! I think it got them thinking about how there’s something to love in every one of us, because God’s created each of us! We can’t always see what God’s plans are for each of us or even how He’s working in our hearts, but with faith we know that “now we see as in a mirror, but then we shall see face to face...” (1 Cor 13). And I saw a lot more love yesterday than I had in awhile!
And with the sound of a Klunk, there was no water...
March 16, 2010
“Klunk.” With a smack, the bucket jerked to a stop at the end of the rope. I looked with surprise at the boys pulling water for Didi, Rupa and I as we washed a mountain of clothes. Arun peered intently down the chasm to the small circular reflection over 30 feet below. With a grin, he looked up and stated, “I think we’ve hit the bottom!” Concerned, I looked over at Didi and said, “Then how do we finish the wash?!” A hurried Nepali discussion flew between them, before we established that we would finish washing at home, and then walk about 30 minutes to rinse the clothes in the river. Arun looked at me with pleading eyes and said, “Sister, can I go to the bottom of the well?! There are some buckets that fell down there!” As Auntie and Uncle were out, I wasn’t about to authorize a 14 year old boy to climb down the well, with or without water! As he pouted I ran upstairs to grab my laundry bag to take to the river.
When I got back downstairs, I found almost all the kids gathered around the well, and Arun and Shiva’s arms were rippled with strain as they gripped the rope leading into the well. After doing a quick head survey, I discovered Laxman was missing, and I has a suspicious suspicion that I knew exactly where he was. “Laxman?!” I called as 12 heads turned and looked at me. A small, echoey “Yes?!” was the reply that returned to me. “Is he IN the well?!” I asked Shiva and Arun. Their grins that said “I wish I was in there but I’m still glad to be part of the action” told me everything I needed to know. I ran over and looked down into the darkness, where Laxman was standing with one foot in the bucket and the other in mid air as they lowered him down. Again, I’m a terrible parent as I quickly gauged the distance down vs. the distance to come back up and deemed he might as well finish his journey down and tell us what was at the bottom.
After a few year-long seconds, he reached the bottom, to my utter relief. There were a couple of old buckets that had long ago fallen to what we thought was their end, finally rescued months or years later. Laxman shouted up to let us know the water was only ankle deep, which explained why we were having trouble pulling up any water! Finally, he was ready to come back up. Now, Laxman is shorter than me, but he’s build solidly. More so than any of the other gangly older boys. I have a little more strength than my boys, so I grabbed the rope with Arun and we began to heave Laxman up. “Ugggh! LAXMAN! NO MORE RICE FOR YOU!” we shouted down the well. “Whoa! Be careful with me!” was the frantic reply. Slowly, we finished his ascent, and we twisted him this way and that to get him out.
We then determined that we would in fact have to do our clothes washing in the river, for the rest of the dry season (which I hear is through May). The other well still has a little water at the bottom, but it’s the reddest, smelliest water you’ve ever seen and can’t be used for dishes or for clothes. So, we’re down to the drinking water (when the power’s on) and the big semi-drinking water tank. Needless to say, I’ve been incredibly proactive when there’s power making sure every single water jug is filled to the brim before the power goes out! Uncle told me this happened last year too, and they just make a day of it each week, spending a relaxing day at the river washing clothes, bathing, and just sitting. Which sounds just fine to me :).
“Klunk.” With a smack, the bucket jerked to a stop at the end of the rope. I looked with surprise at the boys pulling water for Didi, Rupa and I as we washed a mountain of clothes. Arun peered intently down the chasm to the small circular reflection over 30 feet below. With a grin, he looked up and stated, “I think we’ve hit the bottom!” Concerned, I looked over at Didi and said, “Then how do we finish the wash?!” A hurried Nepali discussion flew between them, before we established that we would finish washing at home, and then walk about 30 minutes to rinse the clothes in the river. Arun looked at me with pleading eyes and said, “Sister, can I go to the bottom of the well?! There are some buckets that fell down there!” As Auntie and Uncle were out, I wasn’t about to authorize a 14 year old boy to climb down the well, with or without water! As he pouted I ran upstairs to grab my laundry bag to take to the river.
When I got back downstairs, I found almost all the kids gathered around the well, and Arun and Shiva’s arms were rippled with strain as they gripped the rope leading into the well. After doing a quick head survey, I discovered Laxman was missing, and I has a suspicious suspicion that I knew exactly where he was. “Laxman?!” I called as 12 heads turned and looked at me. A small, echoey “Yes?!” was the reply that returned to me. “Is he IN the well?!” I asked Shiva and Arun. Their grins that said “I wish I was in there but I’m still glad to be part of the action” told me everything I needed to know. I ran over and looked down into the darkness, where Laxman was standing with one foot in the bucket and the other in mid air as they lowered him down. Again, I’m a terrible parent as I quickly gauged the distance down vs. the distance to come back up and deemed he might as well finish his journey down and tell us what was at the bottom.
After a few year-long seconds, he reached the bottom, to my utter relief. There were a couple of old buckets that had long ago fallen to what we thought was their end, finally rescued months or years later. Laxman shouted up to let us know the water was only ankle deep, which explained why we were having trouble pulling up any water! Finally, he was ready to come back up. Now, Laxman is shorter than me, but he’s build solidly. More so than any of the other gangly older boys. I have a little more strength than my boys, so I grabbed the rope with Arun and we began to heave Laxman up. “Ugggh! LAXMAN! NO MORE RICE FOR YOU!” we shouted down the well. “Whoa! Be careful with me!” was the frantic reply. Slowly, we finished his ascent, and we twisted him this way and that to get him out.
We then determined that we would in fact have to do our clothes washing in the river, for the rest of the dry season (which I hear is through May). The other well still has a little water at the bottom, but it’s the reddest, smelliest water you’ve ever seen and can’t be used for dishes or for clothes. So, we’re down to the drinking water (when the power’s on) and the big semi-drinking water tank. Needless to say, I’ve been incredibly proactive when there’s power making sure every single water jug is filled to the brim before the power goes out! Uncle told me this happened last year too, and they just make a day of it each week, spending a relaxing day at the river washing clothes, bathing, and just sitting. Which sounds just fine to me :).
Monday, March 15, 2010
They call me Dr. Sister...
March 14, 2010
One day, Darshan came running to me, blood flowing freely exposing raw skin on the tip of one of his toes. Now, the kids are always asking me for “handi-plus,” the Nepali equivalent of a Band-aid, and 90% of the time I’d need a microscope to see the wound (or, “oond” as they can’t say wound!). Well, not seeing the trail of blood running from the driveway through the front door and up the stairs, I quickly asked “Now Darshan, let me see the blood and I’ll give you a Band-aid,” assuming it was another pin prick for which the best remedy is “toughen up, kiddo!” “Sister, Look!” he said with a painful grin spreading across his strong face. I looked down, and was pretty sure I was going to vomit. I immediately steered him out onto the porch, grabbed my roll of athletic tape, some alcohol swabs, and the Neosporin. I gently cleaned the wound and bandaged it as best I could. He hobbled back down the stairs, cleaning the evidence as he went!
A few days later, Arun came to me the same way, with a similar “oond” on his toe. I thought it was odd, but the kids all wear sandals pretty much always, so I figured the boys had just forgotten how to walk. So, we went through the process of cleaning it and bandaging it, and he sadly had to just watch all the other boys play and have fun later that afternoon.
Well, Manisha thought it was hilarious that Arun had hurt his toe and couldn’t quite walk right and was hobbling around. Remember, this is Arun who flies up and down the stairs and is always running somewhere! For him to be gingerly creeping up and down the stairs was quite the contrast, and in her opinion worthy of definite ridicule! Well, the same day that he injured his toe, she was racing to straighten all the shoes so she could get back into the TV room to watch with the other kids and she shut the door over her toe. Not even kidding. A huge chunk of toe was left on the unforgiving door and she cried out in pain. This is where my horrible parenting skills come in: I burst out laughing. Blood is beginning to pool and threatening to drip on the carpet, so I sent her upstairs to clean it and wait for me while I tried to get myself under control. Fortunately, the other kids (Manisha included) thought this was God’s sense of humor punishing her for teasing Arun too much! So, I cleaned and bandaged her toe, and she began life as a hobbling gimp.
I’m sure you’ve figured out the pattern now. I walked outside one day to see Laxman sitting on the ground, a pained expression etched onto his face as the other kids stood around, with smiles on their faces. Looking down, I saw his toe was torn open and blood was spilling over onto the concrete ground. With confused laughter, I told him not to move, and I ran up and grabbed my tape and supplies (thankfully I’m hyper-prepared for a medical emergency and had a hospital’s supply of everything with me!) and ran back downstairs. Well, this time I really dug in to find out how these “oonds” were all popping up suddenly. I mean, maybe it was the new Nepali style to injure one toe and walk around with it taped or something (not that anyone could see the “oond” with the school shoes on anyway, though!). Laxman said that it was due to football (soccer in America), and I asked how suddenly football had caused so many injuries. He said it just did, which didn’t satisfy me, so I began to investigate further.
My final piece of evidence was Shiva. I was out watching them play football in the driveway, and he went to kick the ball, and his sandal got caught on the ground, bending back and allowing his toe to intimately meet the unforgiving concrete below, causing a mass of torn flesh and a pool of blood to flow. “Don’t move!” I told him, and I ran up to grab my supplies and came back to fix his toe. Having finally discovered the true cause of the toe injuries, I did what any good parent would do- I made a new rule. “You are NOT allowed to play football without tennis shoes, which every single one of you have upstairs! If I catch you playing without good shoes on, I’ll take the ball and not let you play anymore!” “But sister, this is the best time for us to play, because we now know we have a doctor living with us, so if we get hurt, you’ll fix us!” Laxman protested. “No discussion. Either put on your tennis shoes or don’t play.” Sullenly the boys walked the two flights up the stairs to their room, complaining that having to put on their tennis shoes was wasting valuable football time. I told them that they’re lazy.
Since then I’ve checked on them every now and then, and they’re smart enough to wear their tennis shoes now when they play. Guess they know that I’ll seriously take their ball and not let them play if they’re not! And I haven’t had any more toe fashion statements in the last week or so, but I figure as the kids got injured in order from youngest to oldest, there’s no one older than Shiva to get hurt. It’s not often that a 10 year old sets the trend for his 14, 15 and 16 year old brothers (along with his sister!). That said, if you ever rip the skin off your toe jaggedly leaving blood and dirt dancing in its place, I’m there. I’ll fix you up, give you a good scolding for not wearing tennis shoes, and then send you back out to play (or hobble!) with a smile :).
One day, Darshan came running to me, blood flowing freely exposing raw skin on the tip of one of his toes. Now, the kids are always asking me for “handi-plus,” the Nepali equivalent of a Band-aid, and 90% of the time I’d need a microscope to see the wound (or, “oond” as they can’t say wound!). Well, not seeing the trail of blood running from the driveway through the front door and up the stairs, I quickly asked “Now Darshan, let me see the blood and I’ll give you a Band-aid,” assuming it was another pin prick for which the best remedy is “toughen up, kiddo!” “Sister, Look!” he said with a painful grin spreading across his strong face. I looked down, and was pretty sure I was going to vomit. I immediately steered him out onto the porch, grabbed my roll of athletic tape, some alcohol swabs, and the Neosporin. I gently cleaned the wound and bandaged it as best I could. He hobbled back down the stairs, cleaning the evidence as he went!
A few days later, Arun came to me the same way, with a similar “oond” on his toe. I thought it was odd, but the kids all wear sandals pretty much always, so I figured the boys had just forgotten how to walk. So, we went through the process of cleaning it and bandaging it, and he sadly had to just watch all the other boys play and have fun later that afternoon.
Well, Manisha thought it was hilarious that Arun had hurt his toe and couldn’t quite walk right and was hobbling around. Remember, this is Arun who flies up and down the stairs and is always running somewhere! For him to be gingerly creeping up and down the stairs was quite the contrast, and in her opinion worthy of definite ridicule! Well, the same day that he injured his toe, she was racing to straighten all the shoes so she could get back into the TV room to watch with the other kids and she shut the door over her toe. Not even kidding. A huge chunk of toe was left on the unforgiving door and she cried out in pain. This is where my horrible parenting skills come in: I burst out laughing. Blood is beginning to pool and threatening to drip on the carpet, so I sent her upstairs to clean it and wait for me while I tried to get myself under control. Fortunately, the other kids (Manisha included) thought this was God’s sense of humor punishing her for teasing Arun too much! So, I cleaned and bandaged her toe, and she began life as a hobbling gimp.
I’m sure you’ve figured out the pattern now. I walked outside one day to see Laxman sitting on the ground, a pained expression etched onto his face as the other kids stood around, with smiles on their faces. Looking down, I saw his toe was torn open and blood was spilling over onto the concrete ground. With confused laughter, I told him not to move, and I ran up and grabbed my tape and supplies (thankfully I’m hyper-prepared for a medical emergency and had a hospital’s supply of everything with me!) and ran back downstairs. Well, this time I really dug in to find out how these “oonds” were all popping up suddenly. I mean, maybe it was the new Nepali style to injure one toe and walk around with it taped or something (not that anyone could see the “oond” with the school shoes on anyway, though!). Laxman said that it was due to football (soccer in America), and I asked how suddenly football had caused so many injuries. He said it just did, which didn’t satisfy me, so I began to investigate further.
My final piece of evidence was Shiva. I was out watching them play football in the driveway, and he went to kick the ball, and his sandal got caught on the ground, bending back and allowing his toe to intimately meet the unforgiving concrete below, causing a mass of torn flesh and a pool of blood to flow. “Don’t move!” I told him, and I ran up to grab my supplies and came back to fix his toe. Having finally discovered the true cause of the toe injuries, I did what any good parent would do- I made a new rule. “You are NOT allowed to play football without tennis shoes, which every single one of you have upstairs! If I catch you playing without good shoes on, I’ll take the ball and not let you play anymore!” “But sister, this is the best time for us to play, because we now know we have a doctor living with us, so if we get hurt, you’ll fix us!” Laxman protested. “No discussion. Either put on your tennis shoes or don’t play.” Sullenly the boys walked the two flights up the stairs to their room, complaining that having to put on their tennis shoes was wasting valuable football time. I told them that they’re lazy.
Since then I’ve checked on them every now and then, and they’re smart enough to wear their tennis shoes now when they play. Guess they know that I’ll seriously take their ball and not let them play if they’re not! And I haven’t had any more toe fashion statements in the last week or so, but I figure as the kids got injured in order from youngest to oldest, there’s no one older than Shiva to get hurt. It’s not often that a 10 year old sets the trend for his 14, 15 and 16 year old brothers (along with his sister!). That said, if you ever rip the skin off your toe jaggedly leaving blood and dirt dancing in its place, I’m there. I’ll fix you up, give you a good scolding for not wearing tennis shoes, and then send you back out to play (or hobble!) with a smile :).
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Rajkumar... Speak clearly, child!
March 11, 2010
Rajkumar is a 12 year old boy, wavering daily on whether he’s still a “boy” with Darshan and Raju or if he’s an “adolescent” (a word the kids learned at school and is now used freely around the home in reference to the oldest kids!) along with Shiva, Laxman, Prabin and Arun (though Arun still has the free spirit of a boy!). He’s at that 7th-8th grade level, and I had once contemplated moving down to teach those grades, and now I know that my calling is freshmen! Not that it’s Rajkumar- he’s a great kid, usually funny, a fantastic artist, and genuinely cares about you. It’s more that phase of kids when they’re trying to fit into shoes that are just too big for them and you just want to tell them to wait and one day they’ll fit, but they won’t listen :).
Rajkumar has the same problem that I struggled with for most of my childhood (just as my mom!)- he mumbles and slurs all his words together. Rami says that he speaks “roughly,” and she’s right. I think that’s what’s been hardest for me with him, I can’t understand most of what he says in English, much less Nepali! That and the fact that he speaks at 900 words per minute makes it very difficult to have a good conversation with him. A few days ago I finally sat down and told him, “Rajkumar, you are so hard to understand when you speak! You have to slow down and speak clearly if you want people to understand you, ok?!” And that’s when I realized that I must have sounded exactly like my mom did when I was a child! Though, spending 8 months in a ESL country will perfect your pronunciations and teach you to speak slowly :). Since our talk, Rajkumar’s speech is becoming clearer, which is nice!
On the flip side of the coin, Rajkumar is a pretty funny kid. For instance, he’ll discover something on his plate that is questionable, hold it up to just in front of his nose so that his eyes are crossed as he examines it, then he’ll grin and throw it on Darshan or Raju’s plate. Or he’ll talk to the chickens or Dolly (the dog) in this strange cross between an old woman and adolescent boy high pitched voice (picture an old old old grandmother saying “cold hands, warm heart, sonny!”) that cracks often which is really humorous and strangely the time I understand him the best! And for his lack of conversational skills, his communication with paper and pencil is phenomenal. He is a fantastic artist, especially with landscape pictures. I recently had the kids make a poster for the dining room with a big tree and the 9 fruits of the Spirit written on it in Nepali, and he drew the tree with some birds nesting in it while a few other kids drew the fruits. It was phenomenal! With enough practice, both he and Prabin could really be great artists!
Rajkumar’s got a mother and some younger brothers at home and his face is brightest when he talks about his family. I know he genuinely loves them, and he misses them while he’s here. He was one of my boys who was quick to share his Christmas presents with his brothers at home, leaving most of them there for them to play with while he was studying here at school! His compassion for others continues to amaze me! He has a genuine heart for other people, especially those who are hurting or don’t have as much as him and he is quick to do everything he can to remedy the situation. God’s going to continue to use that compassion to further His kingdom, and I can’t wait to see how He does that!
Rajkumar is a 12 year old boy, wavering daily on whether he’s still a “boy” with Darshan and Raju or if he’s an “adolescent” (a word the kids learned at school and is now used freely around the home in reference to the oldest kids!) along with Shiva, Laxman, Prabin and Arun (though Arun still has the free spirit of a boy!). He’s at that 7th-8th grade level, and I had once contemplated moving down to teach those grades, and now I know that my calling is freshmen! Not that it’s Rajkumar- he’s a great kid, usually funny, a fantastic artist, and genuinely cares about you. It’s more that phase of kids when they’re trying to fit into shoes that are just too big for them and you just want to tell them to wait and one day they’ll fit, but they won’t listen :).
Rajkumar has the same problem that I struggled with for most of my childhood (just as my mom!)- he mumbles and slurs all his words together. Rami says that he speaks “roughly,” and she’s right. I think that’s what’s been hardest for me with him, I can’t understand most of what he says in English, much less Nepali! That and the fact that he speaks at 900 words per minute makes it very difficult to have a good conversation with him. A few days ago I finally sat down and told him, “Rajkumar, you are so hard to understand when you speak! You have to slow down and speak clearly if you want people to understand you, ok?!” And that’s when I realized that I must have sounded exactly like my mom did when I was a child! Though, spending 8 months in a ESL country will perfect your pronunciations and teach you to speak slowly :). Since our talk, Rajkumar’s speech is becoming clearer, which is nice!
On the flip side of the coin, Rajkumar is a pretty funny kid. For instance, he’ll discover something on his plate that is questionable, hold it up to just in front of his nose so that his eyes are crossed as he examines it, then he’ll grin and throw it on Darshan or Raju’s plate. Or he’ll talk to the chickens or Dolly (the dog) in this strange cross between an old woman and adolescent boy high pitched voice (picture an old old old grandmother saying “cold hands, warm heart, sonny!”) that cracks often which is really humorous and strangely the time I understand him the best! And for his lack of conversational skills, his communication with paper and pencil is phenomenal. He is a fantastic artist, especially with landscape pictures. I recently had the kids make a poster for the dining room with a big tree and the 9 fruits of the Spirit written on it in Nepali, and he drew the tree with some birds nesting in it while a few other kids drew the fruits. It was phenomenal! With enough practice, both he and Prabin could really be great artists!
Rajkumar’s got a mother and some younger brothers at home and his face is brightest when he talks about his family. I know he genuinely loves them, and he misses them while he’s here. He was one of my boys who was quick to share his Christmas presents with his brothers at home, leaving most of them there for them to play with while he was studying here at school! His compassion for others continues to amaze me! He has a genuine heart for other people, especially those who are hurting or don’t have as much as him and he is quick to do everything he can to remedy the situation. God’s going to continue to use that compassion to further His kingdom, and I can’t wait to see how He does that!
Living the American Life, minus electricity and water...
March 10, 2010
Most days I feel like I’m living around the block in the US. I mean, sure, everyone else is brown with beautiful long swishy hair and I rarely hear a lick of English outside of school and home, but still, it doesn’t feel all that different. But there are times when I’m reminded of just where I am...
Apparently, we’ve hit the driest season of Nepal. Honestly, I had hoped that was past as I’m pretty sure our well bucket makes it to America before we hit water! And we had a FANTASTIC thunderstorm the other day, which got my hopes up with the sudden onslaught of water! But to my dismay, I read in the paper a few days later that rainy season doesn’t start until Junish. I mean, really people, JUNE?! Meaning that we haven’t hit the worst of the dry season yet. Resulting in two things: a shortage of clean water and a shortage of electricity.
About a week ago, I woke up, went downstairs and started into my devotional. A few minutes later kids started trickling downstairs with toothbrushes tucked under their arms, in their hair, or clutched in their tired hands. We use clean water to brush our teeth, but we’re not supposed to do much else with it outside of drinking. This water comes from an electric machine that’s about the size of a home fuse box. A short but cool background story: one of my dad’s friends works for a water purification company in the US. Actually, water purification is just one of it’s branches, but about 9 months ago they decided to install water purification systems in some third world countries, targeting schools and orphanages. And Nepal was one of their targeted areas. And this orphanage was one of the homes where they installed their machine, along with the school I teach at down the street! It’s a small world, isn’t it? Come to find out that without this machine, we’d have to walk about a quarter mile each way to get clean drinking water. Needless to say, I’m very thankful for his company’s generosity!
Anyway, we have two other types of water as well: somewhat purified water for cooking and well water for everything else, including our indoor plumbing. As it gets drier and drier here, the well water has become redder and redder. And with the power outages, there’s not as much drinking water, though we try to stock up with big water drums when there is power, but often there’s no water when there is power. Which leaves us in quite a pickle! So, about 10 minutes after the teeth brushing started, I heard loud scolding from the kitchen, with girls arguing incessantly. One of the girls had used the last of our drinking water to wash her face. I mean, it wasn’t a huge deal, because if we really wanted to drink water we could boil the somewhat purified water and drink it, but, I think it was the principle of the matter. And I’ll admit, I’ve been tempted more than once to use the drinking water for washing my face (somehow, washing you face in red water seems pointless!), but I’ve restrained myself! Last week, though, Uncle and Auntie let us start using the somewhat purified water for bathing as the well water is just too red, which should cut down on us women’s temptation to use the drinking water for our faces!
The other problem with the dry season, though, is the shortage of electricity. Most of Nepal is powered by Hydro-Electricity, and without a strong current in the rivers, the electrical output just isn’t there. And until the snow on the Himalayas starts melting, there won’t be enough electricity. That and the fact that much of the power generated is lost due to old out of date wiring systems and electrical plants. So, we’re down to about 12 hours of power per day on average, most of which is between the hours of 9 PM and 6 AM (not so helpful when you want to go out to a cyber shop!). While there are many things I’ll really appreciate when I get back to the US, clean running water and constant electricity will be 2 of the most appreciated ones!
Most days I feel like I’m living around the block in the US. I mean, sure, everyone else is brown with beautiful long swishy hair and I rarely hear a lick of English outside of school and home, but still, it doesn’t feel all that different. But there are times when I’m reminded of just where I am...
Apparently, we’ve hit the driest season of Nepal. Honestly, I had hoped that was past as I’m pretty sure our well bucket makes it to America before we hit water! And we had a FANTASTIC thunderstorm the other day, which got my hopes up with the sudden onslaught of water! But to my dismay, I read in the paper a few days later that rainy season doesn’t start until Junish. I mean, really people, JUNE?! Meaning that we haven’t hit the worst of the dry season yet. Resulting in two things: a shortage of clean water and a shortage of electricity.
About a week ago, I woke up, went downstairs and started into my devotional. A few minutes later kids started trickling downstairs with toothbrushes tucked under their arms, in their hair, or clutched in their tired hands. We use clean water to brush our teeth, but we’re not supposed to do much else with it outside of drinking. This water comes from an electric machine that’s about the size of a home fuse box. A short but cool background story: one of my dad’s friends works for a water purification company in the US. Actually, water purification is just one of it’s branches, but about 9 months ago they decided to install water purification systems in some third world countries, targeting schools and orphanages. And Nepal was one of their targeted areas. And this orphanage was one of the homes where they installed their machine, along with the school I teach at down the street! It’s a small world, isn’t it? Come to find out that without this machine, we’d have to walk about a quarter mile each way to get clean drinking water. Needless to say, I’m very thankful for his company’s generosity!
Anyway, we have two other types of water as well: somewhat purified water for cooking and well water for everything else, including our indoor plumbing. As it gets drier and drier here, the well water has become redder and redder. And with the power outages, there’s not as much drinking water, though we try to stock up with big water drums when there is power, but often there’s no water when there is power. Which leaves us in quite a pickle! So, about 10 minutes after the teeth brushing started, I heard loud scolding from the kitchen, with girls arguing incessantly. One of the girls had used the last of our drinking water to wash her face. I mean, it wasn’t a huge deal, because if we really wanted to drink water we could boil the somewhat purified water and drink it, but, I think it was the principle of the matter. And I’ll admit, I’ve been tempted more than once to use the drinking water for washing my face (somehow, washing you face in red water seems pointless!), but I’ve restrained myself! Last week, though, Uncle and Auntie let us start using the somewhat purified water for bathing as the well water is just too red, which should cut down on us women’s temptation to use the drinking water for our faces!
The other problem with the dry season, though, is the shortage of electricity. Most of Nepal is powered by Hydro-Electricity, and without a strong current in the rivers, the electrical output just isn’t there. And until the snow on the Himalayas starts melting, there won’t be enough electricity. That and the fact that much of the power generated is lost due to old out of date wiring systems and electrical plants. So, we’re down to about 12 hours of power per day on average, most of which is between the hours of 9 PM and 6 AM (not so helpful when you want to go out to a cyber shop!). While there are many things I’ll really appreciate when I get back to the US, clean running water and constant electricity will be 2 of the most appreciated ones!
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Living in a country of cell phones and internets shops without water and electricity...
March 2, 2010
I’m sure you’ve seen reports of technology reaching into third-world countries, spreading into remote villages and infecting everyone with a need to be connected. When I first arrived here, I was surprised at the number of cell phones I saw attached to people’s ears as they walked and the number of internet shops. However, as time has gone on, I’ve begun to realize that people here value those “frivolous” luxuries which connect them to other people far more than modern “necessities” such as washing machines, dish washers, and even regular electricity. That and the fact that they’re way cheap! For instance, I can use the internet at the local shop (or rather, one of the 4 local shops within a 5 minute walk from our house!) for a mere 5 rupees for 15 minutes. So, essentially, I can stay online for an hour for about 25 cents. Which might explain why when I was in the shop the other day, 5 out of the 8 computers had facebook plastered on their screens. I’m not exaggerating! And cell phones are a few dollars to purchase, and then around 2 rupees per call (or something like that!). None of the kids here at home have cell phones (or are supposed to, but that’s another story probably better not told!), but I have set a few of them up with e-mail accounts. They rather enjoy e-mailing other volunteers who have come through the home, and they love the power of getting and sending mail themselves. Of course, that was partly selfish as I’ll want them to e-mail me when I leave, letting me know how things are going here!
But, back to living in a third world country. There are some inconveniences here, but once you get used to them, you can manage just fine. For instance, most people have 2-3 sets of clothes, and thats it. Instead of filling a closet (which they don’t have here) with 50 outfits (which they won’t wear), they spend their money on the internet a few times a week. Or, instead of a washing machine, they burn 500 extra calories a day washing clothes by hand (eliminating the need for a gym membership) and have a cell phone to talk to their relatives in the village. And their relatives in the village don’t have running water (they burn 1000 extra calories a day lugging water from the kuah 10 minutes away all day long, saving on pipe costs and water bills) but they have cell phones to talk to their friends in the glamorous city.
All this to say, we are a very connected society, regardless of socio-economic status or family background! I’m definitely not negating the fact that these people are poor, because they are. And I’m not saying that cell phones and facebook provide true friendships, but they’re a step closer than worrying about losing 10 pounds at the local gym to win 10 extra shallow glances! Here, we manage with what little we have and we enjoy life anyway! It’s made me realize how many extra things American’s pay for to enrich our lives, when what most of the world is looking for is love. Friendship, marriage, children, and ultimately the love of a Savior. And that’s a lot more fulfilling than a washing machine!
I’m sure you’ve seen reports of technology reaching into third-world countries, spreading into remote villages and infecting everyone with a need to be connected. When I first arrived here, I was surprised at the number of cell phones I saw attached to people’s ears as they walked and the number of internet shops. However, as time has gone on, I’ve begun to realize that people here value those “frivolous” luxuries which connect them to other people far more than modern “necessities” such as washing machines, dish washers, and even regular electricity. That and the fact that they’re way cheap! For instance, I can use the internet at the local shop (or rather, one of the 4 local shops within a 5 minute walk from our house!) for a mere 5 rupees for 15 minutes. So, essentially, I can stay online for an hour for about 25 cents. Which might explain why when I was in the shop the other day, 5 out of the 8 computers had facebook plastered on their screens. I’m not exaggerating! And cell phones are a few dollars to purchase, and then around 2 rupees per call (or something like that!). None of the kids here at home have cell phones (or are supposed to, but that’s another story probably better not told!), but I have set a few of them up with e-mail accounts. They rather enjoy e-mailing other volunteers who have come through the home, and they love the power of getting and sending mail themselves. Of course, that was partly selfish as I’ll want them to e-mail me when I leave, letting me know how things are going here!
But, back to living in a third world country. There are some inconveniences here, but once you get used to them, you can manage just fine. For instance, most people have 2-3 sets of clothes, and thats it. Instead of filling a closet (which they don’t have here) with 50 outfits (which they won’t wear), they spend their money on the internet a few times a week. Or, instead of a washing machine, they burn 500 extra calories a day washing clothes by hand (eliminating the need for a gym membership) and have a cell phone to talk to their relatives in the village. And their relatives in the village don’t have running water (they burn 1000 extra calories a day lugging water from the kuah 10 minutes away all day long, saving on pipe costs and water bills) but they have cell phones to talk to their friends in the glamorous city.
All this to say, we are a very connected society, regardless of socio-economic status or family background! I’m definitely not negating the fact that these people are poor, because they are. And I’m not saying that cell phones and facebook provide true friendships, but they’re a step closer than worrying about losing 10 pounds at the local gym to win 10 extra shallow glances! Here, we manage with what little we have and we enjoy life anyway! It’s made me realize how many extra things American’s pay for to enrich our lives, when what most of the world is looking for is love. Friendship, marriage, children, and ultimately the love of a Savior. And that’s a lot more fulfilling than a washing machine!
Unappreciated Holidays...
March 2, 2010
I think the thing that’s amazed me the most about Hindu culture are the festivals. I mean, as Christians, we’ve got Christmas (one day) and Easter (one day). Now, if you want to be more specific, there is a whole Christmas season (which I’m sure some believe starts way too early; after not having a Christmas season in the community around me this year though, my belief is that Christmas season should start in May!), but we still only have one Christmas.
When I first arrived, we reached the Hindu holiday of Dashain. It’s a 3 week holiday, for, well, I don’t really know what! It’s a big long break, though, and most of the country shuts down for most of that (not that the country’s open consistently when there’s not a holiday, but still!). Soon after that was Tihar, a 3 day festival of lights. There are “Christmas” lights up everywhere (obviously, they don’t call them “Christmas” lights, but, that’s what they would be in America!) and lamps in windows and fires on the streets (ok, not that unusual, but these are religion specific, not just burning trash!). On the actual day of Tihar, there are fireworks and lights everywhere, and people light these little bowls of oil outside their houses to bring good fortune or something. It kinda reminded me of a mixture of Christmas and July 4th. It was a really pretty holiday.
Then there were a few other holidays here and there over the past 3 months which have shut down the country, but they were relatively quiet and unassuming. Mostly, they consisted of people wandering aimlessly in the streets, looking for anything to occupy themselves! In the last few weeks, though, we’ve had 2 holidays which I am convinced were the creation of someone who had way too much time on their hands and decided to entertain themselves at the cost of others.
The first was Mahashivaratri (try saying that 10 times fast!). So, it goes like this. All the little children gather ropes from their roofs leaving partially dried clothes strewn here and there. They head out to the street with these ropes, and stand on opposite sides of the street while the rope stretches out across the street, sleeping calmly until a vehicle approaches. The children keep their eyes peeled for cars, bikes, anything moving basically, and when they spot their prey, they lift the rope up, effectively closing the road. Then, as the vehicle stops, they charge the poor person in the car 5-10 rupees for the use of the PUBLIC road. Of course, I was not about to pay these Hindu kiddos to use a public road (I know, that’s pocket change, but it’s the principle of the matter! That and the fact that I had 15 kids who would have loved 10 rupees at home, so I wasn’t about to take from them!), so, as I was on the bicycle, I either snuck around the side of a paying car or stopped, dismounted my bike, lifted it over the upraised rope and then stepped over myself. This made some laugh, and some mad. You can’t please them all I suppose ;). I do have to give props to whoever made up this holiday, though. Barricading a public road and charging a toll to pass is a great way to make a lot of money, even if you just charge 10 cents per car! I’ll have to keep that in mind for paying of my student loans when I get back to the US...
The next was slightly harder to avoid. It was called Holi, and it’s known as a festival of color closing the doors on winter and welcoming the fragrance of spring! Sounds innocent enough, right? Well, to make sure everyone’s playing along, for about a week before the actual day of Holi kids swarm the streets armed with water guns, water balloons and eggs. Now, traditionally, if you have paint on your face, you’re safe from these weapons of destruction. Again, I wasn’t going to paint my face in order to walk to the shop, so I chose to take my chances. I was hit with a few water balloons, but I didn’t mind those so much. I mean, they’re really inconvenient when you’re hit on your way to a 3 hour church service (which I was), meaning your clothes are wet for the majority of that time, but I can live with that.
However, some of the kids decide to add “special” surprises to the day and throw balloons filled with colored water (in the spirit of the colors) or with urine and sewer water (someone needs to beat those kids with bamboo rods!). That or eggs. Thankfully, I wasn’t hit with any special balloons, but some boys down the road from us thought it was really funny to wait until someone had passed and then run up at full speed and throw a boiled egg at their unsuspecting back. Unfortunately, I was hit with one of those eggs, square on my spine. I was in so much pain that I couldn’t even turn and yell at the kid. Actually, that was probably a blessing from God, because had I opened my mouth at that moment, I would have most certainly said many things that I would have later regretted! Actually, had I turned around, I might have killed them. But, at that time, I didn’t even want to think about moving my back, so, Rami, who was walking with me, turned and yelled a string of scolding words at them before we hurried home. We got home and a large knot had formed right on the center of my backbone. Fortunately the pain died down to a dull ache (I thought boiled eggs were SQUISHY!), and the next day the knot was mostly gone with a nice bruise in its place. Needless to say, I won’t mind coming home to the holidays I grew up loving!
I think the thing that’s amazed me the most about Hindu culture are the festivals. I mean, as Christians, we’ve got Christmas (one day) and Easter (one day). Now, if you want to be more specific, there is a whole Christmas season (which I’m sure some believe starts way too early; after not having a Christmas season in the community around me this year though, my belief is that Christmas season should start in May!), but we still only have one Christmas.
When I first arrived, we reached the Hindu holiday of Dashain. It’s a 3 week holiday, for, well, I don’t really know what! It’s a big long break, though, and most of the country shuts down for most of that (not that the country’s open consistently when there’s not a holiday, but still!). Soon after that was Tihar, a 3 day festival of lights. There are “Christmas” lights up everywhere (obviously, they don’t call them “Christmas” lights, but, that’s what they would be in America!) and lamps in windows and fires on the streets (ok, not that unusual, but these are religion specific, not just burning trash!). On the actual day of Tihar, there are fireworks and lights everywhere, and people light these little bowls of oil outside their houses to bring good fortune or something. It kinda reminded me of a mixture of Christmas and July 4th. It was a really pretty holiday.
Then there were a few other holidays here and there over the past 3 months which have shut down the country, but they were relatively quiet and unassuming. Mostly, they consisted of people wandering aimlessly in the streets, looking for anything to occupy themselves! In the last few weeks, though, we’ve had 2 holidays which I am convinced were the creation of someone who had way too much time on their hands and decided to entertain themselves at the cost of others.
The first was Mahashivaratri (try saying that 10 times fast!). So, it goes like this. All the little children gather ropes from their roofs leaving partially dried clothes strewn here and there. They head out to the street with these ropes, and stand on opposite sides of the street while the rope stretches out across the street, sleeping calmly until a vehicle approaches. The children keep their eyes peeled for cars, bikes, anything moving basically, and when they spot their prey, they lift the rope up, effectively closing the road. Then, as the vehicle stops, they charge the poor person in the car 5-10 rupees for the use of the PUBLIC road. Of course, I was not about to pay these Hindu kiddos to use a public road (I know, that’s pocket change, but it’s the principle of the matter! That and the fact that I had 15 kids who would have loved 10 rupees at home, so I wasn’t about to take from them!), so, as I was on the bicycle, I either snuck around the side of a paying car or stopped, dismounted my bike, lifted it over the upraised rope and then stepped over myself. This made some laugh, and some mad. You can’t please them all I suppose ;). I do have to give props to whoever made up this holiday, though. Barricading a public road and charging a toll to pass is a great way to make a lot of money, even if you just charge 10 cents per car! I’ll have to keep that in mind for paying of my student loans when I get back to the US...
The next was slightly harder to avoid. It was called Holi, and it’s known as a festival of color closing the doors on winter and welcoming the fragrance of spring! Sounds innocent enough, right? Well, to make sure everyone’s playing along, for about a week before the actual day of Holi kids swarm the streets armed with water guns, water balloons and eggs. Now, traditionally, if you have paint on your face, you’re safe from these weapons of destruction. Again, I wasn’t going to paint my face in order to walk to the shop, so I chose to take my chances. I was hit with a few water balloons, but I didn’t mind those so much. I mean, they’re really inconvenient when you’re hit on your way to a 3 hour church service (which I was), meaning your clothes are wet for the majority of that time, but I can live with that.
However, some of the kids decide to add “special” surprises to the day and throw balloons filled with colored water (in the spirit of the colors) or with urine and sewer water (someone needs to beat those kids with bamboo rods!). That or eggs. Thankfully, I wasn’t hit with any special balloons, but some boys down the road from us thought it was really funny to wait until someone had passed and then run up at full speed and throw a boiled egg at their unsuspecting back. Unfortunately, I was hit with one of those eggs, square on my spine. I was in so much pain that I couldn’t even turn and yell at the kid. Actually, that was probably a blessing from God, because had I opened my mouth at that moment, I would have most certainly said many things that I would have later regretted! Actually, had I turned around, I might have killed them. But, at that time, I didn’t even want to think about moving my back, so, Rami, who was walking with me, turned and yelled a string of scolding words at them before we hurried home. We got home and a large knot had formed right on the center of my backbone. Fortunately the pain died down to a dull ache (I thought boiled eggs were SQUISHY!), and the next day the knot was mostly gone with a nice bruise in its place. Needless to say, I won’t mind coming home to the holidays I grew up loving!
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