Namaste!

Well, after years of being away from home and traveling all over the world, I've finally decided to take the step into the world of blogging. As most of you know, I will be spending the next four and a half months teaching English in Nepal. And, as I remain a bit unsure about the communication outlets I will have at my disposal, or frequency at which I will be able to access them, I figured this was the quickest and easiest way to get in touch with those who wish to follow my time there. So here you go. As I said, I really don't know how frequently or thoroughly I will be able to update this but hopefully I can provide at least some small anecdotes regularly enough to provide you all will some sort of insight to my time in Nepal. Enjoy :)

Friday, December 31, 2010

One last one from Pokhara

Firstly...Happy New Year everyone! Some of you still haven't quite made it to 2011 yet, so let me tell you, from what I can see so far, it looks like it's going to be a great year. Here's hoping, right :) Okay, so like the title says, this is my last post to you all from the wonderful area of Pokhara. On Tuesday I will be heading off to the Chitwan region in southern Nepal to begin my next teaching placement. It's been a great month here in and around Pokhara and I am really looking forward to see what the next experience brings. But, so that it will not be easily forgotten, Pokhara definitely gave me an excitement filled final week. There was copious amounts of blood and pleanty of celebration (odd combination, I know, and I promise one wasn't because of the other). So here we go...my final week in Pokhara...Unfortunately, it began with some of the blood shedding. On Sunday, while at school, one of my favorite little three year olds, Amsita, was running across the campus, pencil in hand. And, as three year olds do, she tripped and fell. Sadly, this sent the pencil in her hand straight into her neck as she fell to the ground. And with that came the blood. Oh the blood, and the screaming. (Just as a side note to all those who might not know me that well, blood and I have a very shakey history...it's been a constant battle in my life and, for the most part, it has won...the sight of it frequently sending me into a nice little fainting spell crashing to the floor...However...somehow, thankfully...I was able to keep my head about me and stayed relatively calm in the situation.) So, with thumb pressed over the hole in her neck, and doing my best to keep the screaming and writhing girl as still as possible, I looked up to see the majority of the teaching staff staring back at me blankly. 'How close is the hospital?' I asked in my broken mixture of Nepali and English. Which prompted them to begin discussing amongst themselves whether or not she needed to go to the hospital!!! Do we need to take her to doctor? they asked me. Gee...I don't know...there is a little girl here whos white shirt is now mostly red, she is screaming in pain, and I have blood pumping out from between my fingers...I'm not sure...let's take our time and DISCUSS THIS FURTHER!!! Not that I really said this so angrily to them, but I think I tried to convey that yes, it was quite important to get her to the hospital now. So, one of the male teachers reached down, scooped her up, and headed towards the front of the school to catch a taxi into the city. Meanwhile, I was on his heels, trying to get across to him that he really shouldn't be swinging her around so much, try to keep her stable, and dear God keep your thumb over the wound (versus holding her away from your body and letting the blood flow)... I truly had fears, as the taxi drove away, that she wouldn't even make it to the hospital. My dreams that night were filled with Amsita's screaming face and, yes, blood. But fear not readers, the next morning that brave little soldier came marching into school, sucking on a lollipop and showing off her massive bandage. She was the center of attention and absolutely loved it. To the rest of the kids she was a hero. It was just wonderful to see her little smile again.
The first bit of celebration came later in the week when, as per Nepalese tradition, it was time for the daughter of the family I'm staying with to return to her home. In Nepal, when a woman has a baby, she goes and stays with her parents for 2 months so that they can help her take care of the child and give her a chance to rest from all her household duties. But, come this week, Didi's two months were up and so it was time for her and her children to return to the house that they share with her husband and his parents. The night before, many of the women in our village came over to our house and helped make multiple different kinds of fried breads. (Delicious to say the least) And we made piles and piles of them which Didi would take back and distribute to her husband's family and his entire village (kind of an extension of the dowry system is how it was explained to me). And so, the next day a group of us set out, with all the breads and all of Didi's luggage, on a trek back to her home. About a half hour walk it would be, I was told. (I have come to take any estimate of time I am given here with a massive grain of salt). The grueling uphill climb, loaded with bags of heavy luggage lasted over an hour. But she was returned to her home and then we returned to ours, where the other bloodshed for the week occured...
As a quick background, the family I am staying with belongs to the Brahmin caste. The highest level in the Nepalese caste system. And, as members of this caste, they are not allowed to kill an animal. (Older, more traditional members of the community won't even eat animal flesh, but the younger generations are a bit more liberal thinking and, really, when you reach a certain level of poverty, are you really willing to pass up any kind of food??) So, in the past, when the kids of the family were to eat chicken, a village member of a lower caste would have to kill it for them. However, on this occassion, no one else was around at the time that the family rooster was to be killed. And so, I was asked if I would (and I quote) "do the sacrifice of the coq". (Let us pause a moment to allow the extreme feminists of the world to let out a joyful cheer). And I, somewhat hesitantly, said I would. I was handed the large curved knife, the rooster was laid across a wooden plank, I held the head and the son held the body. (He can't kill it, but he was certainly willing to show me exactly where and how to do it, haha) And, after a few quick blows, the coq was beheaded and I sat, somewhat dazed, hands covered in blood for the second time that week. I was, however, rewarded for my bravery with large portions of the rooster meat at both dinner that night and breakfast the next morning.
And, to end the week on a high note, we celebrated, with the rest of the world, the ringing in of 2011. (While it's not technically the Nepalese New Year, which occurs in March and will be ringing in the year 2068 this year, the Nepalese people seem not to be ones to miss out on an opportunity to throw any kind of party) And celebrate they did. Pokhara has been having a large street festival all week and last night, New Years Eve, was the final night of jubilation and merriment. There were food stands galore, balloons, flashing lights, carnival games, and loud music pumping from all the clubs along the city's main street. To say it was a festive atmosphere would be quite an understatement. And even the constant rain that fell for the majority of the evening could not hinder the spirits of the locals or tourists who partied together into the wee hours of the morning. It was a wonderful evening, spent with good friends and good drinks.
And that is how I leave Pokhara...it has been an amazing ride thus far and I can't wait to see what's around the corner. See you in Chitwan :) Namaste!

1 comment:

  1. Wow, you handled that poor little girl's pencil-in-neck situation incredibly well! Very impressive. Good times for new year's for you, too. How fun. We have had oodles of rain here, too, by the way!! Good luck on your next adventure and happy, healthy 2011 to you from way back here in good ol' San Diego...

    Karen Pearlman

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