Lychees and Lightning

A quick Nepali lesson for you, otherwise this is going to become very longwinded.

Didi [dee-de] Older sister

Bhinajyu [bhin-aah-jew] Older sister's husband

Bhanja [bhan-jaa] Nephew

Now wasn't that hard. The tricky bit is knowing that not only your own family members can be called these names, but everyone else as well. Therefore, a lady you know who is old enough to be your sister is Didi, her husband is Bhinajyu, and her son is Bhanja. Which saves remembering names - something I always fail at dramatically - however does cause the slight confusion when you don't quite know which Didi, Bhinajyu or whoever they are talking about.

Anyway.

Whilst we were in Rajghat, we visited Didi's house. She had got married when my friends lived in Rajghat and now lived in a village nearby. When we were there she showed us her lychee tree. Now, for me lychees came in cans and looked rather like peeled grapes. Not that I ever ate them - I just saw them in the Chinese take-away for sale at extortionate prices. I have a very vague recollection of using them in a cake we made to save the rainforest when I was in primary school - those cakes bought us 60 acres of prime Costa Rican rainforest - but that is all. These, however, looked rather prickly. Nothing like the grapes I imagined them to be. They would be ripe in a week she said, but there were some already ripe at the top. And fortunately they had found someone tall enough to pick them. Me. So I grabbed a handful of the most red lychees and handed them out.

Now came  problem that I've experienced quite a few times and is rather embarrassing. Having never eaten lychees before, I hadn't the first idea how to eat them. Did you just throw them in your mouth whole, prickly bits and all? Did you dig into the middle and eat the small centre bit? Was there a skin to peel off? Were there seeds in the middle, and what was the likelihood of breaking a tooth on them? Normally, I am able to cunningly overcome this problem by watching everyone else, and how they do it. This caught me out once as I copied a child who was swiftly reprimanded by an outraged parent for playing with his food. This time I could not copy. I was handed four or five and looked at expectantly. And i waited for everyone else to eat. But they didn't, they were waiting for me. So in a hushed and subtle tone I asked kosari? - how? A slight snigger from small Bhanja escaped before Achut put me right. You peel it. However, he didn't tell me about the pip in the middle, and when i bit into that the sweet taste went instantly bitter. After a few, I seemed to master eating it without damaging my teeth, but still couldn't escape the juice rolling down my arm.

For the last week or so, I have been trying to write the proposal for the health post. To be honest, its not been going great for 2 main reasons. Firstly I don't quite know what to put into the proposal. We visited a friend's NGO to see if we could get any information out of them, they were very cagey in helping us. I suppose there is only a limited amount of development funding in Nepal, so why would they help us when they are competing for the same money. So I figured the next step was to try and speak to some friendly funding bodies, and see what they want and how we can get money from them. Hopefully soon someone will reply to me. The other reason is I have turned lazy. Well, it's not lazy as such, but there just doesn't seem to be enough time in the day. I wake at 6.30 or so and watch the news and study Nepali before breakfast at 10. Then I sleep again - tiring work eating you know - and wash before picking up the proposal. But then another cup of tea is brought in and I stop. And then I talk for a bit, forgetting about what I'm supposed to be doing. By the time 3 in the afternoon arrives, so does tiffin - afternoon tea - followed older Bhanja returning from school and then I really have no chance of working. It's sometimes difficult to go outside because when it's sunny it's too hot, and when it's not it's just about to rain. So how to solve this? I think once I get a bit of direction I'll overcome this, but it slightly concerning state of affairs. The problems of being your own boss.

On the more positive side of things, I have been improving a bit in my Nepali now, and am becoming more confident. I am allowed out by myself more often now, however with the heat/rain combination that is sometimes a battle of wills as well. I have been working on a couple of websites for some friend's NGOs here as well, so I'm not completely slack.

Last night the lightning returned to the valley. Bhinajyu was visiting Kathmandu for his work, and brought with him a huge bag full of nicely ripe lychees. So, we sat on the roof on a straw mat watching the lightning, eating lychees.

And yes, my arm was covered in juice.

SAM

Rajghat Bound - Updated with photos

Well, it's been a quiet few weeks here. We've been slowly getting the paperwork together for the NGO, first the memorandum agreed, and registered in the district before it is all translated into English at quite an expense. And finally the time came to visit Rajghat.

Mum - don't read from here

We have bought a bike, partly because I have wanted one since going to New Zealand 8 years ago but mainly because it would provide flexibility, protection against the constant transport strikes, and cut the journey to the village in half - still 7 hours though. Having the bike meant that we could take the more direct route across the mountains, the scenery was amazing, and we met very few people along the way. I rode the bike some of the way, but I haven't quite got my license yet - Achut does though. So when we approached the police checkpoint, Achut shouted at me to speed up, and reminiscent of a scene in a bad American film we shot through the checkpoint with the police looking bemused but too lazy to do anything about it. I felt like a criminal. It was surprisingly exhilarating.

We arrived in Rajghat, posteriors aching from bumpy roads and 7 hours in the saddle. Little seemed to have changed since I was there over a year ago. The only thing I really noticed was the new police post put up just after I left. We sat in the shade, still baking at 35 degrees, and talked with Achut's friends and hangers on from the village. The chief of police in the village came and introduced himself, and I spent several hours during my brief stay in discussion with him. A useful contact when things go wrong... I was still the source of fascination for most of the children and adults. It's a very un-English thing, people will just stop and stare at you. But once you get used to it, it's rather twee, and you can't help but stare back.

Now if you don't have strong stomach, don't read the next paragraph.

I had my first bought of stomach problems in the village. I made Achut promise not to tell anyone, so the first thing he did was tell his dad - Buwa - and the rest of the village that were in the vicinity. And so when I needed to go to the toilet, I had more than forty people watching me going to the small building across the market. Great. Later when I needed to go, I was guided to a hole in the ground that had a herd of maggots crawling out of it. When I went to wash my hand, I noticed half a dozen of them had attached them to my foot, and I rapidly washed them off, trying to maintain my usual calm and cool exterior in a state of extreme revulsion. To settle my stomach, it was decided I should take some dohi - a type of yoghurt. 5 cups later from different houses, my stomach was starting to convulse and my brain noted not to mention any problems in the future unless I really have to.

You can look back now.

I got over my stomach problems relatively quickly, mainly because of the threat of more dohi made me shudder. It was decided that the first project that we would work on would be the health post. The health post used to be in a building in the market. However, the new police post had taken over the building, and the doctor has been forced to work out of a small temporary room. So, we talked with the doctor and a local health official about what they wanted. A meeting of the families in the village was called. This was unlike any meeting I have ever attended before. We all sat in a circle under a tree in the marketplace and they talked. But not just one person. Voices were coming from all sides of me, and I tried to make sense of it all, bur in the end just sat back. Eventually, a small group of people formed a circle and then others came and stood around and a decision was made. The health post would be made and put in the market. An engineer was brought in to quote for the building, and I was sent back to Kathmandu to start on the proposal.

A group of volunteering women training to give polio cubes and assist in pregnancy and midwifery

The meeting

The journey back was via some family members and friends houses, which was great to see them all again. As we left the staging post of Hetauda and started to climb the 2500m pass to get to Kathmandu, the chain fell off causing the back wheel to lock and us to almost fall off. Once we had put the chain back on, we looked at the chain and it was hanging loose. Now came the question, should we carry on, and would we find a workshop in the 120 km before Kathmandu or go back the 30 km to Hetauda? We decided to go on. In hindsight this was a mistake. Climbing up the rest of the 2000m with a chain that verged on the brink of falling off was not much fun. It took us a over 3 hours to get to nearest bike workshop, just 40 km away, but we were crawling on the bike, scared of chain falling off if we went fast, and plunging us off the side of the road into the deep valleys below the road. We finally limped into Phalung, and found a workshop, where the man took 1 minute to move the wheel back and tighten the chain.

The road to Kathmandu through the hills

And then we were off again, flying through the most amazing scenery, and reached Kathmandu by nightfall, where there was a 3 mile long jam. However, as Achut has no patience, we weaved through the traffic with amazing dexterity and got home in time for dinner.

As for everything else, water is still a problem here in Kathmandu, only a little each day, although the load shedding time has cut down. The last 2 days have been government holidays, yesterday was Buddha's birthday and so ever politician worth this salt was at some event or other, making sure TV camera were there as well. Today, in contrast, is a valley banda - strike. A local was killed by associates of the Maoist party, the government in waiting. So maybe things haven't changed as much as they said they would. We will wait and see.

SAM

Living the Life

Last night the most tremendous thunderstorm reverberated around the Kathmandu Valley. The lightning lit up the mountains surrounding us for a millisecond before the thunder shook us to our bones. It was amazing. Following this came the first heavy rain I've seen in since arriving here, a taster of what's to come during the rainy season in June. This morning, it has meant that all the dust from the last few weeks that has settled in the air has been removed and the views that were once nothing but pollution and dust return to being spectacular again. However, in a short amount of time, the dust will return and by the end of the day the mountains will disappear behind a haze of pollution.

It's been a strange week or two that's gone by. I don't quite know where it's gone. We've been having more and more load-shedding, controlled power cuts, and they seem to be at inconvenient times. As the water only comes at certain times each day, this needs to be pumped from the mains to the house reserve tank. However, we have had load shedding when the water needs to be pumped, and so have been slowly running out of water. Add to that the three dead frogs that were found in the reserve tank meaning the tank had to be completely emptied and you find yourself alarming low on water.

We went out into the villages of the valley at the beginning of the week. These were only 3 or 4 km outside the ring-road, but almost seemed a different world. I always forget how quickly landscapes can change here. We went past traditional houses with old ladies outside doing their daily chores, school children all in their uniform - usually covered in dust - walking to school with their friends, goats being herded along back roads, and many weddings taking place - it is the wedding season at the moment.

We've had some pretty amazing skyscapes recently. My photos can't really do credit to them, but I've included a couple to show you.

SAM

(Have a look below for a slightly long and late post about the wedding I attended)

Riding around the Kathmandu Valley

The view from the roof

A Nepali Wedding

I've spent the last few days in a state of confusion, which by itself is nothing new. However, this confusion is not just the normal one, it comes from a complete lack of understanding - not only of language but of tradition.

Like weddings in the UK, nepali weddings can vary from a quick "I do" in a registry office equivalent, especially when the union is not blessed by the parents of one side or another, to a lavish event following dogmatic cultural practises. These latter tend to cost both families a large part of their savings, if they have any. The wedding I attended was a bit unusual for Nepal, as it was not an arranged marriage but a "love marriage". This is becoming more prevalent in Nepal as traditional values are being eroded and male-female contact increases. The couple in question both came from relatively wealthy families, and so was a rather large event.

The first part of the wedding occurred on the night before the wedding ceremony. At the bride's house, there was a big party attended by friends and family of the bride. I was part of the groom's entourage, who came along to crash the event, bringing the groom and trays with gifts on them to be blessed by the bride's father. The gifts on the trays were mainly food items such as bananas, cinnamon sticks, cardamom pods and yoghurt. There were also some decorative items covered in sequins and red vermillion powder - a sign of celebration. The groom was led in and a small puja - worship - was performed. Then the trays were brought in by the groom's family and friends, including me. Each tray was received by the bride's father and the carrier was given a tika - red marking on forehead - and an envelope with some cash in. Then the trays were collectively blessed by the priest on hand, and returned to the groom's house.

Me receiving a tika from the Bride's father

For me, Nepal is the epitome of the Cornish word drekley. We were told to be at the groom's house by 7 am the next morning so we could head off and be at the bride's house early for the wedding ceremony. At 9.30, I walked over to find that not everyone had arrived yet. The band had arrived and were in fine voice. At the end of the day I concluded that the band must all be deaf, they spent all day playing so loudly that I couldn't hear anyone unless they shouted and I still have a small amount of ringing in my ears 3 days later. Outside the house, a car had pulled up covered in flowers stuck on with tape - this would be the groom's car. A small puja ceremony took place in the house before the groom emerged in a black suit - another sign of the slow westernisation of this deeply traditional country - with the traditional nepali hat and a small tika on his forehead. During the day this tika would grow through all the blessings given to him from the size of a penny to a tennis ball. Then a procession of family members took place accompanying the groom from his house to the car, which he blessed by circumnavigating three times and throwing vermillion covered rice over.

The band struck up and we were off. In the front, the band led the way followed by the grooms car, those who felt up to walking the 30 minutes in the sun, and those who didn't took the micro van. As our convoy approached the ring road, Nepal's answer to the M25 - not as many jams but 10 times as deadly - I wondered what would happen as surely we couldn't carry on along the ring road. But obviously I was wrong, we could. As we ambled along the tarmac surface, buses overflowing with people and heavily laden trucks were screeching to a halt behind us and patiently sounding their horns out of time with the band. When it came time to cross to the other side of the ring road, and off down a side road I relaxed a bit. As we made our sedate way down single track roads we caused traffic chaos with patient and impatient nepalis trying to get past. Our procession approached the house and everyone able to walk left the micro and followed the groom's car. We looked like a presidential cavalcade, with security guards surrounding the vehicle wearing dark suits and sunglasses. All that was needed was the ear piece microphones and it would have been an exact replica.

Our cavalcade

As far as I could see the wedding ceremony was divided into 3 sections. The first consisted of the groom alone being blessed and welcomed by the bride's father. Then the bride emerged from her house and both bride and groom's feet were washed. This is very symbolic as the feet are considered the most dirty and ritually unclean part of your body, if you kick someone accidently you must touch your forehead - the most sacred part of your body - and touch where you kicked, and to show great respect or thanks to someone you bend to touch your forehead to their feet. The bride's family even drink some of the water that the feet have been washed in. Then finally, the ceremony moves to a small altar. The altar was a small square with a fire in the centre, and offerings around the rim, religious star shapes drawn in yellow and red powder around the outside of the fire. Suspended above the on four bamboo canes marking the outer edge of the altar were leaves that were called upon to be used in parts of the puja.

On many occasions I asked what was going on during the ceremony, and generally I got the same answer - puja. I was explained later that most people didn't really know why each part of the puja took place, you just do as you are told by the priest. There was an interesting tradition though that was explained, though. A piece of cloth was held by both families - bride and groom - above the heads of the couple. Then, what can only be described as a tug of war took place for the piece of cloth, which we won as the groom's family. This was symbolic as it meant the power in the relationship between the 2 families was now with the groom's family. How much stead this holds in the modern Nepal, I don't know, but it was good fun nonetheless. Towards the end of the ceremony the traditional vermillion streak was added to the bride's head. This is the mark of being married, any woman with this mark in their parting is married - the same as a ring in western culture.

Putting the vermillion streak in the hair

The atmosphere at the wedding is completely different to any wedding that I've been to before. In the background you can hear the priest and who ever else is required at that point in the ceremony mumbling, chanting and singing. Sometimes the band will strike up and play for 5 minutes, or an hour, depending on their leader's feelings at the time. There is a background chatter as friends greet each other, compare cameras and watches, swap news stories about mutual acquaintances, and gossip about whose wedding is going to be next. Over the top of it all, Hindi music is screeching out over hi-fi speakers with western excerpts that to me seem completely inappropriate, but are obviously lost on most of the attendees. People are constantly walking around, having a glance at the puja that is taking place at the time, single girls and boys looking around for their potential life partners. One time my legs felt a bit sore, so I said i was going to have a short walk and was joined by a couple of other people. We returned over an hour later, and apart from growth of the bride and groom's tikas, it seemed very little had changed.

After a few photos with the brides family, and some more fun and games, we were ready to go. It was a tearful departure for the bride's family, this signified her leaving the family. She would then only be allowed to return to see them with the permission of her new mother in law. Our convoy headed off down the road, the band once again beating the neighbourhood's ear drums with their exuberant playing. Little children would run along side the car to see the bride and groom, and even cars we passed would take a fleeting glance in. Once we had returned to the groom's house, a small ceremony took place to welcome the bride into the family.

The following day the party took place. These are traditionally put on by the groom's family, and I'm sure used to take place in the groom's home. However, there are now many venues that have set themselves up as self labelled "Party Palaces". These venues host many different events, but mostly specialise in weddings and receptions. They are rather cheesy, with fake waterfalls, a stage with beckham-esque thrones for the bride and groom to sit on, loud hindi and nepali music abusing our ear-drums, and many plastic seats available for your multitude of guests. However, they do the job well, preventing a home being overloaded with people and provide a good space for dancing, eating and meeting.

I'm sure I'll have several more weddings to attend over the next year, so you never know, I might start to understand it all!

SAM

At the end of the day