Category Archives: Feelings

Honouring Fridays: March 13th, 2009

Mid-march already! So hard to believe it really. At home, I could mark the months with work cycles, important dates, holidays, and often seasons; here is harder to mark the passage of time as readily. The holidays are new and unfamiliar, the work cycle is totally new, and the seasons seem to wash slowly into each other like the bleeding of water colour paints. Perhaps this why time is more fluid and less structured here…thinking in larger increments of time lends itself to a more free and bigger picture way of thinking. The immediate details don’t matter…the afterlife, one’s legacy, one’s family history and sucessive generations…that is how time is truly measured in Nepal.

Nepali Straight talkers. Today I had my first productive meeting with my Global Campaign for Education-Nepal steering committee. The challenge for the past 4 months has been to try and observe, assess, and understand the organization and leave plenty of room for them to involve me where they see fit. I am very conscious of the methods other INGOs use to push their own agendas and I am very focussed on not working in that way. It is their country, their education policy, and their coalition…I can support but they need to feel comfortable with me. So, months roll by, I wait. And today, a tipping point thanks to another INGO. They had brought along a senior member of staff to observe and comment on the planning process (we are 8 reports behind schedule for our donor oganization….blech!). He was able to say the things I wasn’t – he could speak as a Nepali to another Nepali, with confidence about how things work , in a direct and constructive way. And the best part was that he was able to reinforce many of the recommendations that I had been making….so without getting too hopeful I would like to believe that this signals a productive turn in the work of the coalition. Yippee!

Cabbage. One of the most under appreciated, hardy, and satisfyingly crunchy vegetables to hit the culinary scene some centuries ago. Last night we made the most delicious sesame-soy-honey coleslaw with fresh green cabbage, carrots, red onion, and a smashing dressing. Recipe is coming soon….but wanted to remind folks that the lowly cabbage is worth a second look. Excellent in curries, instead of tortillas as wrappers for tasty fillings, in salads, pickled, in soups, as filling for tacos…consider this slogan…”where one could use lettuce….CABBAGE instead!”
M’s Family. The parents of my dear friend, M, arrived in Nepal this week. M’s mother was recently diagnosed with cancer so this trip has already been an emotional and mental preparation. A small group of us went for dinner with them this week and it was such an honour to meet them. There we moments of intense sadness and tears but also moments shining with laughter and sheer joy for being together. The poor waiters must have thought we were crazy, switching from laughing to tears in mere seconds. It was however, one of the most genuine, real, and honest moments of my time here in Nepal. Nobody tried to pretend things were okay or to create an atmosphere that felt overly celebratory. We all just shared our meal and infused our time with love, good conversation, support, warmth, understanding, and compassion…when we felt like laughing we laughed and when we felt like crying we cried.
Feeling a place through art. Other of my dear friends, and a fellow Canadian, is an exceptionally talented painter. It is a hobby but in my mind it is his true calling. He captures more vividly the mood, feeling, and inner sense of Nepal than any picture I could take with a camera. A few of his paintings are available to view on his website. His Nepal hills pulsate with purples, blues, greens and appear smoky with the haze of fog. It is always one of my favourite things to be in a place with G and then to revisit that place through his paintings.

Honouring Fridays: March 6th, 2009

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I missed last Friday`s post and then was late on this Fridays…a sure sign that work is getting busier and there are fewer hours when free-time and electricity coincide.

Friday socializing. The cohort of volunteers that arrived right before us have instituted a lovely casual Friday gathering for anyone who is interested. It is usually a chance for us to reconnect, debrief, and share with other volunteers. The crowd changes depending on who is free but the conversations always remains engaging, lively, and interesting. Last night I had a fantastic debate over the role of INGOs in development work…clearly there are various opinions on this and it was a good opportunity for me to test some of my own theories and assumptions about our organization. Thanks to NB for the great debate.
Royal Tandoori. By far our absolute favourite restaurant for cheap and delicious food in Lazimpat, the region of Kathmandu where we live. They have curries and naan bread that put anything found in Vancouver to shame (although Indian Oven is a pretty close contender). We can eat 4 pieces of naan and 2 different curries and pay about $3…we could eat there everyday. We go there so frequently that we see the staff cycling around other areas of Kathmandu and they wave hello…perhaps time I invested in a brick oven to make my own naan?
Kurta surwaal. Imagine the ease of getting dressed every morning for work when all you needed to do was jump into loose baggy pants, a long tunic top, and wrap yourself in a scarf for warmth? This is my work outfit most days of the week. And imagine again if everyone was wearing these outfits in purple, pink, red, orange, green, and blue patterns – like looking through a kaleidescope – everywhere you turn the clashes of pattern and colour in clothes jumps into vision. So, I joined the parade. I have had some lovely kurtas made for me but my favourite is the first one I bought in a deep orange colour with some paisley green and yellow patterns. Honestly, getting dressed for work has become one of the easiest and simplest parts of my day! Below is a picture of me and my friends H and M in our beautiful kurtas.
Candles. Simple reality that with 20 hours a day without power the simple and humble candle becomes the source of all light in our small apartment. It felt romantic and quaint for the first couple of weeks – now it is just a necessity. BUT, it provides a great excuse to purchase cheap bottles of wine as the bottles double as candle holders when the sweet elixir has been drunk. Thanks to candles for forcing me to buy wine…

Me, M and H in our beautiful Nepali lugaa (clothes)

Honouring Fridays: February 20th, 2009

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Pancakes. Not the puffy, fluffy kind but the pan cooked thicker, crepe-like kind made of egg, milk, and flour. Topped with fresh honey and lemon or with curried veggies – we have been enjoying them in both sweet and savoury ways since it is easily made by candle light and is quick after a long day at work. Breakfast for dinner…perfect!
My landlady. We have had a problem with our generator that powers our water pump lately, which has meant a shortage of water to our apartment. Enough for a shower every few days but little more. We are able to pump water into buckets to flush the toilet and wash dishes which is just fine. But what makes this something to be grateful for is that when I come home from work I often find a bucket or jug of water waitig at my door…a little gesture but so appreciated since I don’t have to lug it up 4 flights of stairs in the dark. Thanks to Rita my landlady for always making sure we can flush.
Rest. The joys of a good restorative and rejuvinating sleep were revealed to me this week after a few difficult nights. Mental exhaustion unravelled all my rational thinking, emotional composure, and coping abilities earlier this week. I took rest. And miraculously, 8 hours later, I awoke feeling completely restored 🙂 There is no other activity that results in such good health, that takes zero energy in which to engage and yet produces results so vastly impressive in nature.
Language. The eloquence of a statement I had written in English I had hoped could be translated into Nepali for a workshop next week. Not suprisingly, it was not that simple. The nuances of Nepali, the structures of sentences created their own unique eloquence but required tweaking, thinking, debating, and carefully selecting the appropriate word. This required further explanation from me about the meaning behind my statement. Was one of those moments where the complexity of languages was both frustrating and magical. These are complex words we speak…

Grief

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It has been an exceptionally difficult week here in Nepal as we learned that our good friend’s mother has been diagnosed with cancer. She was coming to Nepal for a visit and went in for a routine check-up, they noticed something and decided to do some test. It has spread quickly to liver, lungs and lymph. This is the first moment that Nepal has felt very far away. Below is some quick thoughts I jotted down after the difficult news. She is incredibly brave to be facing such news from so very far away.

The grief was so strong that it got stuck in her throat, a low gasp followed by a quick staccato inhalation.

It was worse than she thought, worse than she could imagine actually.

And I watched quietly as she cried, small rivers of tears flooding down her cheeks, grief so strong it ached to watch.

There was nothing I could do to help. Nothing I could say to change the results, make the distance less distant, or dull the pain.

Please, sleep in my bed. Lie down and rest your heart.

I will rest my heart too – it hurts for you but it also hurts for me, reminded that life is so fragile and nothing can prepare you for this.

It will be okay. But it’s not okay. But you will be okay. But you are not okay.

My friend, I am so so sorry.

Honouring Fridays: February 13th, 2009

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This week has flown by! Much of it was spent in a planning session for VSO Nepal’s Education Program which gave me a great overview of where we have been and where we are going. The incredible focus on analysis, evidence, and rigorous reporting structures was a suprise (although it shouldn’t have been) as we are accountable to DFID (British equivalent to Canadian International Development Agency in Canada). But I had forgotten how rigourous all that reporting could be…need to keep those ducks in a row!

Health. We recently had some sad news that the mom of one of my good volunteer friends here may have cancer. It shakes up reality beyond belief and I think has really reminded us all just how far away we are. We don’t feel far away most of the time thanks to Skype, Facebook, and MSN Messenger. But when these types of life events happen it can feel like another planet. The diagnosis comes out this afternoon so we are all waiting nervously…I am so thankful that people I care about are healthy…please, please stay that way!
The colour red. An important colour in Hindu culture and often a key signifier of marriage here in Nepal. Red lugaa (clothes), red churri (bracelets), and red tikas (religious symbols placed on the forhead) symbolize that the woman is married. I have started wearing red sparkly bangles (so unlike me, I know) to indicate my status. It is amazing what a pair of red bangles can do…significant decrease in men chatting me up!
My friendly taxi cab cluster. So every morning and afternoon I walk for about 15 minutes between work and the bus stop. And at a particular corner is always a crowd of taxi cabs. The first few times they would ask me if I want a taxi (because I am white almost every taxi asks me everywhere). My response “chaindaina” which means “no, thanks, I don’t need/want one”. They laughed and laughed, enjoying that I spoke Nepali. It has now turned into a game…they know I don’t want a taxi but still take great pleasure in shouting out “Taxi madame?” twice every day, knowing I will say no. They have also become a wonderfully regular and familiar part of my journey and I actually look forward to testing out new ways of saying now (Arko patak = another time, bholi bihanna hola = tomorrow morning maybe, or Ma hidera janne mon par cha = I like going by foot). So nice to feel like you are part of a community in some small way.
Cheese. So, I have a confession. There is a dairy about 10 minutes from my house that sells cheese. And I buy it. And I eat it. And I love it. Paneer, mozarella cheese, kanchan cheese (sort of like a sour gouda), even yak cheese…the meltier, squidgier, the better. I have even taken to having grilled cheese sandwiches for breakfast! I can’t get enough of the stuff…when one can even put it in curry (palak paneer anyone?) I think it is possibly the most multi-purpose thing ever. Although, what can one not put in curry really…? Perhaps it is curry I should be grateful for!

Gratitude

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Today, in light of it being a Friday and the weekend nearly arrived, I felt the need to shake my fears and frustrations from my head with the ever sobering and inspiring tonic of gratitude. Remind myself of the wonderful little things that make my days bright and worthwhile…

Tea, an essential part of socializing here but also such a comfort at any time of day.
Woolly socks, warm, cozy, and friendly…best when stuffed into even warmer woolly slippers to realize their full potential for heart warming warmth.
Almonds, protein rich and portable…savoury or sweet? Doesn’t matter…tasty anytime of day.
Maps, like little windows into a world…they almost never paint the most accurate picture of the place but are such neat and tidy renditions of what is usually much more chaotic.
Flexibility, both in the muscle stretching, elastic body kind of way, but also in the ease of mind that comes with simply letting things flow.

Pashupatinath

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This week our class visited the holy site of Pashupatinath, which is situated along the Bagmati river on the Eastern edge of the city. This holy site is an incredibly important place for many Hindu Nepalis as it is here that many families come to conduct the cremation ceremonies for family members who have died.

Before arriving I had been preparing myself for what we might encounter – I just wasn’t sure what kind of emotions might present and how the visual images would impact. I have always had a very active imagination. At the risk of sounding childish I will admit that I am still overcome by nightmares of such a vivid and horrific nature that I sometimes wonder whether observing raw and real human suffering is simply a catalyst for such terrors.

But I soon realized, upon arriving, that my worries were unfounded. While the vision of heaps of straw, wood, and smoke surrounding the body, was startling at first, it was also incredibly peaceful and spiritual. It felt very natural and although filled with an urgent sense of grief it looked very much like those families we saw were spiritually letting go -letting the river carry away their sorrow and grief.

There was a family undertaking the rituals of preparing the body before cremation and I watched from atop a hill as the family grieved and laid garlands of marigolds over the body, the golden colour reflective of the god Vishnu, the Protector.

The grey river, clogged with debris, and exceptionally polluted, still worked tirelessly to sweep away the ashes and provide the holy water which would secure the deceased a space in heaven. Caught in the current were some golden orange strands of fabric that clung to a muddy stick and fanned the current along.

I watched this family closely and was reminded that although their grief was still fresh they were following a centuries old tradition that would protect and honour their family member in the after-life and that they too would one day be washed down the river towards a holier and more pure existence. The actions were public, but the emotions were purely private and held solace for the grieving families.

when a villaged opened their hearts

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It has been 7 days since we returned from our week in the small village of Chanku Besi – I have sat many times blankly in front of the computer screen wondering where to start. How to appropriately capture the moments, the emotions, the surprises, the faces, the kindness. It is not an easy task, to be sure, but my hesitation is partly a yearning to be accurate with my words and leave unspoiled the vivid images that will live with me. I want to honour the wonderful people whom I met.

The village sat upon a long and incredibly steep set of rice terraces with my house being at the top of the village, shrouded by leafy trees, jungle, and orange trees. The cold was intense. The nights were pierced with winds whistling through the cracks in the mud and beam structure. I had the bedroom to myself while next stoor my new Nepali family (amaa, baa, bhai, and 2 bahinis) cuddled up in one bed. Mornings were spent with dawn hours around the small kitchen fire drinking chiyaa, laughing, and snuggling with the goats who lived downstairs.

From the doorway, the darkness inside fools one into thinking of dampness, dirt, and discomfort. But rather the house was immaculately clean and comfortable. The only discomfort was the blue stinging smoke during hours of cooking – no chimmney desired as the black soot covering the roof beams protect the wood from termites.

We spent a full 5 days living with our families and then abrubtly on the day of our community project we learned that there would be a bandha in the nearby town the next day – it was called for 3 days which meant we wouldn’t be able to get out in time for Christmas. There was concern for our safety and we had to make the difficult decision to leave that afternoon. It was a very difficult way to leave and with such a rush the goodbyes were not at all what we had meant them to be. With garlands of marigolds around our necks and thick red tikas on our foreheads, we departed. Sadly, heavily, and with much regret.

So rather than paint more pictures with words, I will gladly post some images of our brief and exciting stay in the village. My thanks to H-Bone who took all these photos and a whole bunch more, and painstakingly uploaded all of the them so that I was able to steal them 🙂 Photos from Rex and I coming soon too.

The village of Chanku Besi seen from the top of the rice terraces

The tree where we hung a tireswing the day before we left.

A few of our talented team in front of the school we painted on our final day.

Redefining Normal

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Sometimes what takes the longest or is the hardest or makes you saddest is when what is normal has changed.

What was, is no longer. How things were knew, are no longer. When things we, are no longer. And then, suddenly, normal is normal. A new normal for sure, but not new since it is now the measure of normal.

I am waiting for normal to kick in.

Morning…bihanna

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The fog sinks deep and thick over wooded hills. The terraced rice fields, brown and scrubby after harvest, steam from the weak sunlight that manages to pierce the fog. Damp clothes swing from clotheslines dripping the dampness from their stitches. I too swing dampness from my limbs. And yet, the anticipation of the heat and warmth beyond the fog brings everything from their warm beds. There is rice to be sown, corn to be dried, and dust to be swept. There is not a morning without the hallam (noise) of magpies and crows awake in the fog. By lunch, the fog has been swept clean behind the hills. But for now the fog rests heavily and I am hidden within it.