Where to begin describing the last 4 days staying with a poor Nepali family in a remote village, 8 hours from Kathmandu?
Let’s begin with what there wasn’t:
no toilets, no toilet paper, no showers, no windows, no English speakers in the family.
And what there was:
LOTS of Dalbad ( ie mountain of rice with runny lentils/beans), goats, chickens, cows, buffalo, mud, children and smiles.
The Bus Ride: Not my first time on Nepali local buses but this deserves an explanation. You begin at Rutna Park Bus Station. But there is a catch; it’s not a park, and neither is it really a bus station. So what is it? For those reading from SA- let’s start with a reference point; a Joberg Taxi rank, but oh so much more! Basically, no building but just tons and tons of busses and micros/minvans like the ones you get in SA (and in roughly the same condition and filled to the same capacity/overcapacity). In between there are people selling everything from water and newspapers to bananas, sweats and even someone cutting the head of a goat on the sidewalk (it is true look at my facebook pics). Eventually we find our bus and pass our bags up to be put on the roof, which also serves as extra seating when the bus gets overcrowded, which pretty much is the permanent state of affairs (again see my fb pics). Eventually we off, stopping constantly on the way, sometimes to let off people or for pit stops but also as the road gets narrower and windier to let buses passes in the opposite direction. The ride is like a roller coaster just slower (much slower), bumping up and down all the way along (don’t forget there are people sitting on the roof of the bus) and crossing rivers and muddy roads that are effectively one long string of potholes. But the journey is absolutely beautiful all the way with rivers, mountains and small villages keeping you captivated. Which is a good thing as the bumpiness means reading is not an option, and my ipod could not compete with the bus engine and local Nepali music being played all the way, which although adding to the authenticity become slightly repetitive after 8 hours.
Finally we arrive in at the village. The bus drops us seemingly in the middle of nowhere and we climb up the hill to find half the village waiting for us. Around 50 villagers had gathered outside their temple and as we arrived they place a lay made of fresh flowers around each of our necks and a red ticka on our foreheads. Then we sit down to watch them dance and welcome us, but after a short while, we are no longer watching them dance as some from our group have gotten up and joined them jumping around and waiving their hands around. Soon almost all of us had at some point got up, (or been dragged up) to dance with the villagers in the mountains (it sounds like a book title).
We were then assigned to our families, 2 per family. Our family had between 6 to 9 people, (the kids wandered between our house and the cousins next door so we were not quite sure who belonged to who). The house is like something that belongs in a picture book, downstairs is the kitchen/bedroom/living room consisting of a clay stove, mats to sit on and a wooden bed. Upstairs are two rooms, one in which we stayed with two beds and two windows (one of which has no shutters) and the other for the rest of the family. Hanging from the ceiling is drying corn (millies in S.African), there are also chickens wandering around, rice drying on mats on the floor and adult goats tied up in a type of shed outside with their kids (please appreciate the pun) wondering around the yard. In between our house and the cousins’ is a communal tap which kind of serves the same function as an office water fountain where people gather to chat, as well as a shower, wash dishes, clothing, hair and anything else that needs cleaning. There is also a hole in the ground toilet, but this deserves its own paragraph, I’ll get to that.
The three days we were there all followed pretty much the same pattern. First night we passed out by 8pm after having been told by the Aumaa (mother) to lock our door with a wooden plank (wandering who we were trying to keep out I later discovered it was ghost or the odd leopard, which for a South African who is very used to locking doors for more sinister reasons, is strangely comforting). At 7:30am we are woken up with breakfast in bed, delicious Masala tea and crackers. Except that this is not actually breakfast, its Khaajaa, a snack. Real meals in Nepal need to include rice to be considered Khaanaa and therefore at 9:30 we are served our “real” breakfast of Dalbad on the kitchen floor with the family. This was pretty much the same as our dinner, usually consisting of lentils/beans, veggies and most importantly rice (bud) which is considered holy and every kernel on your plate therefore has to be finished. This could be problematic as the plates are piled with a mountain of rice. Luckily we were warned about this situation in advance and were taught the word “uda” –“half” which results in a mini-mountain of rice that is slightly more reasonable. That doesn’t mean we were not offered more of everything. Here again we were well prepared with the phrases “pugyo”, “enough” and “ukus mookas bio” which I think is roughly translated to something like “Im propvol” in South African, and usually gets quite a laugh from the family but also allows you to get off the hook and decline more food. The meal is also interspersed which emphatic “meto china”s “not tasty” from Aumaa which then needs to be followed by a series of “ramro”s and “meto chha”s” (good and tasty) so as not to offend our gracious hosts. This is pretty much the basis of our conversations with a few attempts by the kids in the family to teach us some Nepali phrases, in their limited English which is still leaps and bounds better than our Nepali. (Three lessons so far didn’t quite prepare us to be the most engaging of guests).
By the second day we were slowly starting to become more Nepali. First at meals we decided it’s time to do it the Nepali way and although we were each handed spoons, we made an attempt to eat the rice and dalbad with our hands like our hosts. This clearly is a skill that cannot be acquired overnight. For starters the lentils/beans are more like a soup than a vegetable, and scooping it up between rice kernels is no easy task. The family found it hilarious and kept gesturing towards the spoons, while the 5 year old continued eating her rice mountain unperturbed. But the truth is this exercise was minor in relation to the other side of the dalbad process. (WARNING: this is where I’m about to get graphic so please skip the following paragraph if you think you may find it disturbing)
Ok, so I’m sure many of you have heard that when in the East, shake hands with the right hand. This is VERY good advice. Toilets as I mentioned are a hole in the ground. This surprisingly is not so much of an issue, once you get used to it and they actually say it is better for your digestive system. The problem however is that these toilets/holes do not do well with toilet paper, which clogs up the whole system. So what to do? There are two option; 1. Bring toilet paper, keep it in a plastic bag and then dispose of it when we get back to Kathmandu. (There is no garbage disposal in the village, but neither is there really a need for it as most of their food is prepared from their land and therefore very little wrappers/packaging). Option 2: Do it like the locals... SO what does that mean? Outside each toilet is a bucket of water, basically you take a cup of water, and when you done, pour it down your ass, and then use your Left hand to do the rest (our leave it to your imagination). It took me a while to bring myself to succumb to this ordeal, but after 2 days of dalbad in the one way, an exit strategy becomes necessary and so.... I now know for sure, I can do anything!
Basically every aspect was an experience but I actually have got to admit I really enjoyed every minute. (Even the toilet part was really empowering in the end, not to mention that as you walk out you are rewarded with a picture perfect view of the village and mountains). During the day between the dalbads we had lectures on development issues, a tour of the agriculture projects they working on, a 1.5 hour hike to meet a new youth group, volunteers may work with and just time chilling with each other and our host families. This was really just a taste and I’m not sure where I will actually be placed next month, but I think village life could work for me, will have to see...
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