The red flag with the faded black star is torn and not conspicuous enough to catch your attention unless you happen to see the sign advertising the barbershop next to it. A maoist barbeshop?
Makes me think of the cost of war.
http://www.telegraphnepal.com/news_det.php?news_id=4375
lördag 20 februari 2010
fredag 19 februari 2010
Even a moustasch will not stop the mouth from eating
Going through a list of Nepali proverbs but couldn't guess this one. Was told it meant that if you really decided to do something, nothing can stop you which...I guess makes sense.
I have come to the end of my language course. Now I actually do speak a little bit Nepali. Hardly in complete sentences full of intricate ironic meaning the way I would like it but more along the line of trying to order the correct food, tell the shop owner I want a lower price or THAT English paper instead of the one I was given. Many, if not most Nepalis I come across do speak a decent level of English these days so being understood is never really an issue here in Kathmandu.
On wednesday I move out of mero ekdam ramro Newari pariwaar, my very nice Newari family that is. I will miss the thin and high house, wide enough for my bead to fit sideways and tall enough with its seven floors to see over most other houses in the area of Laagan. The open rooftop has been a refuge to just sit or do yoga or eat breakfast and just observe the daily life from another angle. When the sun comes out(which it does most days except for the Shiva Ratri festival last week when the sky literally opened and it wouldn't stop pouring for almost two days straight), lids are liften and people of all age ans sizes crawl up on the corregated roofs and a separate life is lived up there. The wash is being hung, hair is washed and dried(houses have very little central heating if any), puppies are being played with and the occasional hen or rooster walk around high up in the air minding their own business. Mostly people just seem to take a break in the sun, maybe sorting though the chilis , flowers or herbs that are often left to dry in the sun before being eaten.
After 5 weeks I now also know that many brothers, fathers, uncles or in our case, little brother and grandfather are minding and playing with the young ones. My language teacher is never far away from her baby but even a mother needs to sleep and the youngest one of our household is being coo'ed, carried, fed, sunbathed on the roof and generally just held and loved but all other family members but especially the men of the family. It is lovely to see, and I imagine just a part of life in this family as in many other Neplai families. When you marry the woman generally moves into the husbands home and become a part of the household, even if she of course still might visit her old home. Old folks homes doesn't exist I have been told, you just make room for young and old family members, regardless of age.
I have come to the end of my language course. Now I actually do speak a little bit Nepali. Hardly in complete sentences full of intricate ironic meaning the way I would like it but more along the line of trying to order the correct food, tell the shop owner I want a lower price or THAT English paper instead of the one I was given. Many, if not most Nepalis I come across do speak a decent level of English these days so being understood is never really an issue here in Kathmandu.
On wednesday I move out of mero ekdam ramro Newari pariwaar, my very nice Newari family that is. I will miss the thin and high house, wide enough for my bead to fit sideways and tall enough with its seven floors to see over most other houses in the area of Laagan. The open rooftop has been a refuge to just sit or do yoga or eat breakfast and just observe the daily life from another angle. When the sun comes out(which it does most days except for the Shiva Ratri festival last week when the sky literally opened and it wouldn't stop pouring for almost two days straight), lids are liften and people of all age ans sizes crawl up on the corregated roofs and a separate life is lived up there. The wash is being hung, hair is washed and dried(houses have very little central heating if any), puppies are being played with and the occasional hen or rooster walk around high up in the air minding their own business. Mostly people just seem to take a break in the sun, maybe sorting though the chilis , flowers or herbs that are often left to dry in the sun before being eaten.
After 5 weeks I now also know that many brothers, fathers, uncles or in our case, little brother and grandfather are minding and playing with the young ones. My language teacher is never far away from her baby but even a mother needs to sleep and the youngest one of our household is being coo'ed, carried, fed, sunbathed on the roof and generally just held and loved but all other family members but especially the men of the family. It is lovely to see, and I imagine just a part of life in this family as in many other Neplai families. When you marry the woman generally moves into the husbands home and become a part of the household, even if she of course still might visit her old home. Old folks homes doesn't exist I have been told, you just make room for young and old family members, regardless of age.
onsdag 17 februari 2010
Learning to read the cultural landscape of Nepal
There are real fears and then there are baby fears. Real fears are those where your life might actually be in danger, or at least you are in a potentially dangerous situation. Baby fears are the ones that I confront every day here in Nepal. Fears that are related to everyday things. When you boundaries of comfort are stretched or even overstepped. Like the other day. My sweet Nepali teacher pushed me out the door and ordered me not to come back before I talked to enough people and I had 20 new words to show for it. Wouldn't take no for an answer and just told me that unless I overcame my fear of being in the(my expression)idiot-phase I would never learn to speak Nepali. For those of you who has ever studied another language you know the phase I am talking about, when you know very little useful stuff, mostly grammatical structures and a bunch of words that don't seem to string together like peacock and I am late for class.
My teacher is a smart lady and she probably sensed my hesitation so she drew a small map over the area of central Kathmandu, patted me on the back and said -go find this market and then come back with your words and the name of the god that is in the center of the bazaar.
So I grabbed my Nepaali kitaab ra kaleb ra kopi (my book with Nepali glossary, pen and pad) and went into the street. Figured I might as well get in to it and prepared a little speeach in my head that probably sounded very similar to this, but in Nepali then
- Hallo! Howareyoumynameismariaandistudynepali.Whatisthat?
At this point I certainly have the attention of the shopkeeper who look at wnere my finger in pointing.
-Eh...bread, he says in English. But I don't give up and repeat slower "Ma Napali PaDnchuu" which if I am lucky translates to I study Nepali but if not so lucky "I fart Nepali"... Nepali people might have a good sense of humor but they are also kind enough to recognize a good try. So after getting my first word and learning that it roughly translates into "white, sliced English bread" on I go At the tailors I repeat my speech. He looks scared when I point at the suits.
-No Madam. Not for ladies! It takes a while to calm him down and find out that suit is also suit in Nepali. That figures. Cashews sounds vaguely the same but almonds are 'peanuts from the Terai', the area near the border of Nepal that I soon will be working in.
The nicest word I learn was Maya, which mean love in Nepali. Nice one.
My teacher is a smart lady and she probably sensed my hesitation so she drew a small map over the area of central Kathmandu, patted me on the back and said -go find this market and then come back with your words and the name of the god that is in the center of the bazaar.
So I grabbed my Nepaali kitaab ra kaleb ra kopi (my book with Nepali glossary, pen and pad) and went into the street. Figured I might as well get in to it and prepared a little speeach in my head that probably sounded very similar to this, but in Nepali then
- Hallo! Howareyoumynameismariaandistudynepali.Whatisthat?
At this point I certainly have the attention of the shopkeeper who look at wnere my finger in pointing.
-Eh...bread, he says in English. But I don't give up and repeat slower "Ma Napali PaDnchuu" which if I am lucky translates to I study Nepali but if not so lucky "I fart Nepali"... Nepali people might have a good sense of humor but they are also kind enough to recognize a good try. So after getting my first word and learning that it roughly translates into "white, sliced English bread" on I go At the tailors I repeat my speech. He looks scared when I point at the suits.
-No Madam. Not for ladies! It takes a while to calm him down and find out that suit is also suit in Nepali. That figures. Cashews sounds vaguely the same but almonds are 'peanuts from the Terai', the area near the border of Nepal that I soon will be working in.
The nicest word I learn was Maya, which mean love in Nepali. Nice one.
lördag 13 februari 2010
Shiva ratri, Lhosar and Valentines day
...all in on happy holiday weekend. Shivaratri translates into "Shivas night" and took place of the last day of the Nepali winter which this year was last friday. 300,000+ people, mainly teachers and holy men, (gurus and Sadhus) and followers of God Shiva gathered then in the holy temple of Pashupati. Last wednesday it started raining and didn't finish for a day and a half and my Newari family laughed and said that this often happends when all these holy men come from all over Nepal and India for this very special holiday.
The location of Pashupathi looks, to an outsider and heathen like myself(who is not Hindu)very similar to Varanasi. Burning ghats by the holy river. Men and women waiting to die by the holy water, blessed by priests and Shiva himself with consorts. Old folks homes that you can rent while in waiting.
Lhosar I thought would be easy to describe as simply the Tibetan New Year. In is celebrated in the Tibetan community in exile and often among western buddhists. Now of course it turn out there are three (!) Lhosars. Today the 14/2, possibly named Gyalko Lhosar as it is mainly described as a religious celebrated. Soman Lhosar on the other hand is, again according to my sources a 'farmers festival', whatever that means and then there is Tamu Lhosar observed by the Gurung people roughly around out Wester new year.
To make it even more confusing, it is not exactely a Tibetan new year, but a holiday also celebrated by ethnic groups or people identifying themselves as Sherpas, Gurungs and Tamangs.
And then there is Valentines. Have a good one and go out and tell somebody you love them!
The location of Pashupathi looks, to an outsider and heathen like myself(who is not Hindu)very similar to Varanasi. Burning ghats by the holy river. Men and women waiting to die by the holy water, blessed by priests and Shiva himself with consorts. Old folks homes that you can rent while in waiting.
Lhosar I thought would be easy to describe as simply the Tibetan New Year. In is celebrated in the Tibetan community in exile and often among western buddhists. Now of course it turn out there are three (!) Lhosars. Today the 14/2, possibly named Gyalko Lhosar as it is mainly described as a religious celebrated. Soman Lhosar on the other hand is, again according to my sources a 'farmers festival', whatever that means and then there is Tamu Lhosar observed by the Gurung people roughly around out Wester new year.
To make it even more confusing, it is not exactely a Tibetan new year, but a holiday also celebrated by ethnic groups or people identifying themselves as Sherpas, Gurungs and Tamangs.
And then there is Valentines. Have a good one and go out and tell somebody you love them!
söndag 7 februari 2010
Two hours of electricity
Suddenly the PBI house in Sanepa is quite. The elctricity that has been off the whole day is now on for two full hours so all volunteers are trying to make the most out of it. Skype:ing in their rooms, watching dvd's, checking e-mails before the house goes quiet and soon dark again.
The house in Kathmandu is nice and big. Five volunteers, Kipa the dog and Iggy the puppy live here full time. The chef that that comes during the working days is not here on a sunday, nor are the other staff. The big garden is divided into a front section(where the garderner tries planting big flowers in different sized pots, my favourites are the giant big open red flowers that seem to reach out to you somehow in the bigness and colorfullness)and the back yard where we usually hang out. Here the dogs have created a sanctuary and the gardener also given up and left is to be "dogacized", probably not understanding the crazy westerners that has not only taken in two puppies from the street but actually seem to like having them around. Paying the price of not having a back yard that is growing all that much. Kind of reminds me of some friends prioriticing having their kids roam in the garden with al their toys instead of grooming the grass and admiring the flowers. Oh well, Kipa and Iggy are by now so intergated in th PBI family that the love of gardening just has to go.
It is cozy though, dos and all. And coming out of the kitchen, being attacked by the dogs expressing their love is nice. Nice big table and chairs, often friendy company, the sandbox with the improvised big tin canster to make fires on cold and dark nights. A good place to work, think, read, socialize. The tree with the yet unidentified yellow citruslooking fruits hanging over the table also makes Sweden and -29 degress below seem far away.
The house itself has four floors, and a number or balconies in different sizes. Good to do yoga on. Or just sit and observe what the neighbours are doing. This area is for the wealthier segment of Kathmandu. Embassies, NGO's, a variety of UN offices and local people all live together in these big houses surrounded by thick and high walls. Our house also has a hut for the watchman just inside the high gate, It is not used now, but our daily newspaper drop in there very day. Like a giant mailbox you have to enter.
Having slept in the puja room, a small room attached outside on a balcony separated from the rest of the house, I feel refreshed and ready to go back to my pariwaar Nepali (Newari family)for another week of studies. Only two weeks to go now before signing the contract an finally becoming a volunteer Field Officer for PBI for real.
The house in Kathmandu is nice and big. Five volunteers, Kipa the dog and Iggy the puppy live here full time. The chef that that comes during the working days is not here on a sunday, nor are the other staff. The big garden is divided into a front section(where the garderner tries planting big flowers in different sized pots, my favourites are the giant big open red flowers that seem to reach out to you somehow in the bigness and colorfullness)and the back yard where we usually hang out. Here the dogs have created a sanctuary and the gardener also given up and left is to be "dogacized", probably not understanding the crazy westerners that has not only taken in two puppies from the street but actually seem to like having them around. Paying the price of not having a back yard that is growing all that much. Kind of reminds me of some friends prioriticing having their kids roam in the garden with al their toys instead of grooming the grass and admiring the flowers. Oh well, Kipa and Iggy are by now so intergated in th PBI family that the love of gardening just has to go.
It is cozy though, dos and all. And coming out of the kitchen, being attacked by the dogs expressing their love is nice. Nice big table and chairs, often friendy company, the sandbox with the improvised big tin canster to make fires on cold and dark nights. A good place to work, think, read, socialize. The tree with the yet unidentified yellow citruslooking fruits hanging over the table also makes Sweden and -29 degress below seem far away.
The house itself has four floors, and a number or balconies in different sizes. Good to do yoga on. Or just sit and observe what the neighbours are doing. This area is for the wealthier segment of Kathmandu. Embassies, NGO's, a variety of UN offices and local people all live together in these big houses surrounded by thick and high walls. Our house also has a hut for the watchman just inside the high gate, It is not used now, but our daily newspaper drop in there very day. Like a giant mailbox you have to enter.
Having slept in the puja room, a small room attached outside on a balcony separated from the rest of the house, I feel refreshed and ready to go back to my pariwaar Nepali (Newari family)for another week of studies. Only two weeks to go now before signing the contract an finally becoming a volunteer Field Officer for PBI for real.
lördag 6 februari 2010
Elephantiasis and perception of Nepali life
Povery is never pretty. It rears its ugly face in the non-existence of trained medical staff or poor medical care. Lack of knowledge about how to catch a disease or how to prevent or treat it, ignorance and superstition as well as lack of funds contributes. Often of course it seems to be an unhealthy coctail of all above that contributes to the cause of poor health and this of course is not a situation unique to Nepal.
Leaving the abstraction of 'yes of course, poor people get sick more often' for a moment, today it was reported that 25 million people in 60 districts of Nepal are in danger of catching the parasitical infection Lymphatic Filariasis(most known as elephantiasis)a disease transmitted by mosquitos. Contamination generally means your limbs swelling looking like 'elephant legs', your inner organs being damaged by the parasite and you getting tumors. The government of Nepal is now planning to launch a national campaign to eradicate this disease that is said to be the second leading cause of permanent, long-term disability among infectious diseases. The goal is, in accordance with the WHO plan to eliminate the disease by 2020.
Yes, poverty is never pretty or pictoresque. Maybe with the exception of those locally produced postcard portraying misty hills and Himalayan mountain tops with happy looking hard-working(if slighly dirty) woman, hill tribes and sherpas that are found all over the tourist areas of Nepal. I have of course sent a few of them home over the years, not being immune to the beauty of this country but still.
I do find it hard to really grasp how physically hard life is for many Nepalis. Not only in the country side and in the hill, people living 4000 meters and above in the mountains. I still(and I realize this might be a sexist observation) find it especially hard to comprehend how all these young and old women that I see working on contruction sites and on road work, stone masons et cetera can do their jobs.
And now I am not only talking physically even though many jobs require a certain amount of physical strength, many of the women I see also bring their children to the work site. The children may or may not help out carrying rocks or whatever mom is doing but then there is also family life to take care of with all that that contains from catching cold water from the well for cooking and washing in the morning(usually a job for women and children big enough to carry canisters)to all other household shores that the men usually don't do.
Many of the Nepali men that I come across of course also works hard. The list over jobs that we just don't have in my country but exist over here is long. Take the profession that always brings a smile to my face for example. Partly out of emberassment, which is probably because I could never do it myself: the mobile big carpets sales men. These guys usually have a bunch of full size carpets slung over their shoulders, making acrobatic moves as they walk with their load of mats through a crouded street full of people. Then there are all the fruit, kitchen utensils, chia(tea), plastic cups whathaveyou sales men that carry their load of wares on their heads in a big oval basket to be put on the ground on demand to show their ware. The richawdrivers. And of course the manual laborers that carry 50 kilos+ attach by a strap on the forehead,be it what it may: a desk, boxes with food, live chicken, a door...
Leaving the abstraction of 'yes of course, poor people get sick more often' for a moment, today it was reported that 25 million people in 60 districts of Nepal are in danger of catching the parasitical infection Lymphatic Filariasis(most known as elephantiasis)a disease transmitted by mosquitos. Contamination generally means your limbs swelling looking like 'elephant legs', your inner organs being damaged by the parasite and you getting tumors. The government of Nepal is now planning to launch a national campaign to eradicate this disease that is said to be the second leading cause of permanent, long-term disability among infectious diseases. The goal is, in accordance with the WHO plan to eliminate the disease by 2020.
Yes, poverty is never pretty or pictoresque. Maybe with the exception of those locally produced postcard portraying misty hills and Himalayan mountain tops with happy looking hard-working(if slighly dirty) woman, hill tribes and sherpas that are found all over the tourist areas of Nepal. I have of course sent a few of them home over the years, not being immune to the beauty of this country but still.
I do find it hard to really grasp how physically hard life is for many Nepalis. Not only in the country side and in the hill, people living 4000 meters and above in the mountains. I still(and I realize this might be a sexist observation) find it especially hard to comprehend how all these young and old women that I see working on contruction sites and on road work, stone masons et cetera can do their jobs.
And now I am not only talking physically even though many jobs require a certain amount of physical strength, many of the women I see also bring their children to the work site. The children may or may not help out carrying rocks or whatever mom is doing but then there is also family life to take care of with all that that contains from catching cold water from the well for cooking and washing in the morning(usually a job for women and children big enough to carry canisters)to all other household shores that the men usually don't do.
Many of the Nepali men that I come across of course also works hard. The list over jobs that we just don't have in my country but exist over here is long. Take the profession that always brings a smile to my face for example. Partly out of emberassment, which is probably because I could never do it myself: the mobile big carpets sales men. These guys usually have a bunch of full size carpets slung over their shoulders, making acrobatic moves as they walk with their load of mats through a crouded street full of people. Then there are all the fruit, kitchen utensils, chia(tea), plastic cups whathaveyou sales men that carry their load of wares on their heads in a big oval basket to be put on the ground on demand to show their ware. The richawdrivers. And of course the manual laborers that carry 50 kilos+ attach by a strap on the forehead,be it what it may: a desk, boxes with food, live chicken, a door...
fredag 5 februari 2010
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