05.25.09

05.25.09

Life is this day, whether I want it to be or not. Life is this cloudy morning, these long and tiring meetings, this dusty city, these moments of desperation. This is life.

But is it all right to want a different kind of life? A life of a different name, a different place, a different color? What about the one I have? Why can't I find a moment of contentment in this particular life?

How is it that I'm always reaching for the Other--for what I think I want--and ending up with the same thing I had before? The same life, the same me, the same discontent?

Sounds of Nepal

These are the sounds that fill our days...

the neighbor's puja music too early in the morning,
the rooster next door that cock-a-doodle-doos at the strangest times,
cooing pigeons,
barking dogs,
ringing bells,
the trash collector pushing his cart and faithfully blowing a whistle every morning at 7AM,
the horn from the tea kettle,
children laughing and then crying,
news from BBC Radio,
the recycling guys making their daily rounds, calling "bottle kaagaaj",
blaring horns,
planes flying overhead,
the neighbor constantly talking on the phone,
our gate rattling as a Sadhu waits for a donation of rice,
clanging from our bamboo wind chime,
the hiss of pressure cookers from nearby houses,
the mournful moaning of the neighborhood cat...

These are the sounds that someday we will hear in places far away which will immediately bring us back to Nepal.

Festivities

We've just finished festival season here in Nepal. First, we had Dashain, which is the biggest festival of the year. Many people spend this time with family- eating, drinking, dancing, playing games, etc. Nepalis really know how to celebrate. They don't waste their time with one day holidays like many of us are used to. Dashain last for two weeks (or three depending on who you ask) and spills into Tihar (which is called Diwali in India), the second biggest festival in Nepal.

Tihar, or the festival of lights, is probably my favorite festival, and not just because it includes a day that honors dogs. For us, Tihar feels like a combination of July 4th, Halloween and Christmas. Lights and decorations adorn houses and shops, reminding me of the days leading up to Christmas. The air is filled with a festive spirit and the noise of firecrackers, usually set off by giggling boys. Many children (and a few adults acting like children) do the Nepali version of trick or treat, gathering in front of stores and singing until the shopkeeper offers a few rupees or pieces of candy. All in all, it's a wonderful holiday.

Here are a few pictures from Tihar...

Kitty on "Khukur Puja"

Garlands for Tihar

Our house, ready for Laxmi

 

Children "trick or treating"

Swings which are set up for Dashain and Tihar

Lovin On Lebanon!

For the past week, we've been trying to figure out what we should write on this blog about our incredible vacation in Lebanon. It was one of those experiences that is difficult to put into words...so we're not going to try. Instead, here's a link to many, many pictures that will give you an idea of how amazing our vacation was.

Lebanon

Road Trip To Raamechhap! (09.18-20.09)

Disclaimer: I got a bit long-winded, so feel free to read this post in bite-sized portions if necessary. But, in my humble opinion, it will be worth your time. Plus there are great pictures to keep you entertained.

We (Amos, myself, Jim & Mavis from MCC Akron, Bal Krishna--one of our MCC partners--& his wife Shanti, our interpreter Sunita, and Petra, from a German INGO) left this morning for Raamechhap district in Eastern Nepal to visit one of MCC's partners for the weekend. I just came along for "fun"...mostly to get out of the noise of Kathmandu.

We were under the impression that it would be a 6-hour drive. So, confident in our rugged 4WD jeep and capable driver, we began our journey. At the first major intersection, the driver asked Bal Krishna if he should go left of right (something even Amos knew). OK, so maybe he is a new driver. But we still have that 4WD!

After emerging from the choking pollution and chaos of Kathmandu, the road grew windier and the buildings fewer; the terraced hills and dales lush and green, rivers rushing below us. We wound up and around the tree-lined hills, reaching a peak of about 6,500 feet, where we stopped for lunch after 4.5 hours on the road. The air was clean and cool (and a bit thin for my altitude-sensitive self). We ate at a rustic hole-in-the-wall (literally) and got back on the long and winding road again.

We made a gradual descent into the valleys, giving way to occasional exhaust-spewing trucks and buses (somehow you can't fully escape them no matter how far into the sticks you go), squeezing around precarious corners. Small waterfalls gushed through the trees and onto the road. A family of monkeys scampered across our path.

We took a snack break about 6.5 hours into the trip. As I munched away on my gargantuan cucumber, happily thinking we'd be there any time now (and calculating how much longer I could go without a toilet), Amos asked Bal Krishna how much longer it would be. When I heard him say, "3 hours...at the most," I immediately had to decide whether to choke on my food or spit it out in shock. Apparently that 6 hour estimate was, um, flexible. (And so was the 3 hour estimate.)

Back to the trusty jeep: we piled in, rather grumpy and wrinkled, sweaty and full-bladdered (I hope I'm not just speaking for myself here.) Here, the pavement ended and the real adventure began. For the next 4 hours (yes, FOUR), we bumped and crashed over a "road" that mostly consisted of skull-sized rocks jutting vertically out of dirt and mud, the occasional stream and/or pond, and ruts so deep I could bury myself in one. At one hopelessly sludgey place, we encouraged our slightly nervous driver to just put it in 4WD and ram through it. This is when we were told that there was no 4WD. Oops. Thankfully, a larger vehicle went ahead and cleared the way for us (and also mentioned that our tire was damaged as he drove by).

Minutes later, we were encouraged to see bright yellow construction vehicles ahead in the distance, a sign that someone was doing something about this "road"...but it wasn't until they scooped up massive piles of earth and rocks (no doubt undoing work they'd just done), swinging it dangerously close to our windshield, that we could pass by. How kind! Our obstacles from here on out were smaller, but many: hogs, goat herds (and stick-wielding herders), semi-naked children (who also tried to latch onto the back of our jeep), dogs, unafraid birds, roosters, cows, bucking water buffalo, cows, and of course oncoming vehicles on a road barely wide enough for one. It seemed, in fact, better suited for pack animals. I found myself dreaming of a ride on a sure-footed donkey (which we also encountered later on the road), rather than the whiplashing jeep ride (complete with a slam to my thigh with the gearshift every time the driver changed gears). Meanwhile, my bladder capacity was in great danger.

We passed by beautiful, rough houses made of mud, brick, wood and stone, mustachioed with bunches of field corn drying under the eaves. Laboring men, women, and children of all ages struggled past with impossible loads of stone, branches, firewood, bricks. The terraces surrounded us, a world of greenery on every side. Distant village homes dotted the hillsides on precarious ledges. If I forgot myself and my discomfort for long enough, this surreal and ancient landscape captivated and transported me. And seeing women my age sweating through their daily chores sobered me. "Why not me?" I thought. I could've been born here, inheriting this life of labor.

And as day grew into night (and the driver still hadn't turned his lights on, causing much angst in my already troubled heart), we finally, FINALLY pulled into the little village of Mithili, our destination. A nameless (and perhaps the only) hotel welcomed us with its climbing bouganvilla and modest mint green rooms, complete with the unexpected luxuries of a ceiling fan and TV! (Too bad the only channel in English was ESPN...although Amos was pretty excited about this.) We capped off the night with daal bhaat (traditional Nepali meal of lentils, rice, and curried vegetables), and slept like dead (wo)men.

Saturday morning began with crowing roosters, bleating goats, and a laughing yoga session being led on a nearby hill (if you don't know what this is, just use your imagination). In spite of all the headaches, this is unarguably a place of beauty and serenity, where time stands still.

From 7:30-9:30 AM, we attended a special program the school had arranged for the Desain Festival (the Nepali equivalent of Christmas). What a treat! (Insert sarcasm here.) Garlands of flowers were put around our necks and bouquets of flowers put in our hands by some of the young girls (decked out head-to-toe with fancy dresses and stage make up) who performed a variety of dances for us--in between all the monotonous, redundant speeches and introductions. The dances started out as lovely and traditional, but hit a low point when one pre-pubescent girl, dressed in what could have been an ice-skater's costume, busted out some hesitant moves to a Nepali pop song. Oh, how I cringed. This was followed by a speech (given by Jim Olsen, the only one brave enough to offfer a few words on behalf of MCC). It became apparent, however, that our interpreter had disappeared. After a few throat-clearing moments of awkwardness, she returned, a bit frazzled, and did her best to translate "MCC" & "Global Family Program", of which she knew nothing about. (Poor girl, it was also her first time translating.) It was clearly painful for all involved. Meanwhile, a few respected guests--government officials, police officers, etc. avidly read their morning papers while the program dragged on and ON. Trying to wrap it up, the emcee of the program announced "the last item of the program...", followed by "and now, one more item..." and yet another "last dance",  which was, of course, followed by another item. We squirmed, sweaty legs sticking to our plastic chairs, dying flowers irritating our necks. Not to be outdone by the girls (and to truly finish out the program), the boys wowed (and possibly frightened?) the crowd with some very spirited barefoot karate kicking...of flourescent tube lights. I worried, but no feet were visibly damaged.

Finally free, I was able to enjoy what I had come here for: silence and relaxation. And I was not disappointed. BUT. I should've bottled it up to use for Sunday, for The Trip Home. Importantly, I was now mentally prepared for this 10-hour journey, which is half the battle. What I wasn't prepared for was our near carbon monoxide poisoning after a collision with wayward rocks jammed our exhaust pipe up into the bumper, and was feeding us a steady stream of exhaust. Thank God for Nepali's innovations, though: at the next rest stop, our driver knocked it back down as far as he could, and attached a bit of hollow bamboo on the end to ensure that the smoke would blow out, not in. Genius! By this time I had a small migraine brewing and was more than ready for decent food, a toilet and home--all of which would come much later than hoped for.

Our next food stop redefined shady. As I was deciding reluctantly between rice or cold lentils, a farmer burst into the restaurant with a large (and quite stubborn) ram, and let it up the stairs. I chose this moment to walk out in search of ibuprofen.

After lunch, our group mysteriously dispersed. The three Nepalis in our group were nowhere to be found, while us impatient foreigners stood, arms crossed, by the jeep. Amos went off to search for them, and after about half an hour, returned with the rest of our crew, who had decided to take advantage of the cheap local prices and bought giant Chinese woolen blankets (which we then had to find space for in and on top of the jeep). At this point, I admit that my patience was out the window and dashed upon the river rocks far below.

Thank God, nothing else too out of the ordinary (whatever that means) happened the rest of the way home (oh, except a very near head-on collision with a giant bus, and an animated discussion with some Maoists at a checkpoint, who were demanding premium fees from us foreigners).

At long last, Kathmandu welcomed us back with loud, dusty, crazy arms. The city never looked so inviting. It's been a long weekend.

We're Still Here!

It's been a bit since we have written. The past month has been full of visitors (mostly from MCC), rain, meetings at the police station, and other "normal" adventures of Nepali life (dodging puddles, dancing at a Hindu wedding, battling an army of cockroaches in our kitchen, etc). Because we didn't have our camera at the time, there are (unfortunately?) no pictures of the wedding, but surely you can create some fascinating mental pictures of us taking a stab at traditional Nepali dance.

Amos and I celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary on the 6th of this month. We enjoyed a lovely, romantic dinner to the sound of rain pounding on the window panes. The monsoons are dwindling now, and we're approaching the most glorious time of year in Nepal, full of blue,kite-filled skies and magnificent mountain views.

Unfortunately, both of us have been dealing with various sicknesses in the past week or two, but are feeling better now...and just in time for our upcoming trip to Lebanon! We also received our new camera a couple weeks ago, which will greatly enhance our otherwise dull blog posts. Thanks to all who made it possible for us to replace our camera. We are so thankful! We'll certainly make great use of it in Lebanon. The quirks are still being worked out of our laptops, and we hope that they will be completely back to normal soon. For now, we're still borrowing another MCC laptop. It will be a relief to have all the dangling bits and pieces of this scenario finally behind us. Here are a few photos from our new camera!

 

Surprise, Surprise!

On Friday afternoon, we received a phone call from the local police department. They had recovered some items and asked us to report to the police station to see if any of the things were ours. With our friend Bruce in tow, Heidi and I went to the station, purposely keeping our expectations low. We were quite surprised when we saw our Macbook and the MCC laptop I use for work among the items that had been recovered. The details as to how the police were able to find our stolen computers are still quite sketchy. Apparently, they were able to track phone calls that were made from one of the cell phones, taken from our neighbors. Four men were apprehended at a police security checkpoint. When the police searched their bags, they found our computers, along with our neighbors' laptops. The police suspect the men were taking our computers to a different part of Nepal where they could easily sell them.

Yesterday, we received another call from the police department, asking us to go to the station for a press release. We weren't sure what to expect, but we accompanied our landlord to the station. After a few minutes of waiting, we were ushered into a small room. The four men who are suspected of breaking into our apartment were standing along the wall, handcuffed to one another. Since we didn't realize that we would be meeting these men, Heidi and I had not prepared ourselves for the feelings this meeting brought. The men stood with their heads bowed. Their clothes were dirty and torn. They ranged in age from around 25 to probably close to 60. As reporters asked questions and took their pictures, two of the men began to cry. I had many questions that I could not ask. Do they have families? Why had they chosen this lifestyle? Did they not have other options? Were they just trying to feed their children? Or did they need money for other reasons? Our landlord also peppered them with questions about the burglary. Did the dog bark at them? How did they manage to get up on our balcony? Had they been watching our house? The men answered some questions. They gave their names, stated where they were from. But most of the questions went unanswered. I thought of the restorative justice work I did while in Lancaster and was reminded that most victims of this type of crime, regardless of where the crime happens, have similar questions. And most of our justice systems have not found ways to answer these questions.

Today, I was once again called to the police station. The police needed me to sign the report they were writing. As I waited for the report to be finished, I asked the inspector to fill in some details. He was able to tell me that only one of the men actually entered our apartment. Apparently this man is quite skilled at climbing so he was able to scale up the pipes on the side of our house and get up onto our balcony. I also found out that at least one of the men had watched our house. They knew which room we slept in and which room they could break into. Although I have no way of knowing how accurate these details are, they at least help me to make sense of this event. The details take away some of the mystery, answering at least some of our questions.

We now have to wait two weeks to get our computers back. I think they may have wiped out our hard drives, since the computers weren't working properly when I checked them at the police station. The police suspect that these men sold our other items before they were apprehended, but they are continuing to look for them.

On Friday, as we returned from the police station, we again saw a rainbow in the distance. Another sign of God's faithfulness? Perhaps. The rainbow did remind us of the support we have felt from friends and family during this process. We are also thankful to the police for their work, although we have some reservations about it. We are grateful to have some of our items returned, but we still have too many unanswered questions to call this justice.