Afternoon folks!
What's going on? Our month long holiday started on October 1st, and we've been celebrating the hoidays with the families in our village. It's neat to have that opportunity and learn, through experience, a little more about their culture, their customs, and their religion.
A few weeks ago, my principal called me in for a meeting to check up on how I was adjusting. He wanted to make sure I was ok and to see how I was handling the extreme change of pace and lifestyle. He said something like "I know it's a lot different than from where you come from, a lot poorer, a lot slower." I told him everything was fine and that there had been some challenges but for the most part I've just accepted everything as my reality. Later that night, I was doing laundry, and his words came back into my head, and I had this uncomfortable thought that "Oh man, they know. They know about the kind of life we lead in America, they know that they're poor and hardly have a home to live in, they know that we're all living but in such drastically different ways." Up until then I thought we were hiding something from them, and it actually made me feel better that maybe they didn't know about the things we have and they way we lived. Knowing now that they are aware of these differences has brought upon a few challenges and a lot of questions.
I spent last week experiencing this "knowledge" of theirs first hand, every day, from people older than me and people younger. Our In-Country Coordinator, Cappy, set up a village stay for me with a family he somehow knows. Tim, a JV who has just completed his two years, stayed there last year, and together we took the 5 hour bus ride and the 45 minute hike into the village. He set me up with the same family and then took off. Village stays are popular for the JV's as they provide cultural submersion and an opportunity to gain better language skills. Almost no one in the entire village spoke English, and the oldest boy in the family I stayed with only knew a few words. The week was actually extremely beneficial for my Nepali, but it also opened my eyes a little too.
The village, Chyangli, was absolutely gorgeous. About 5 minutes on the trail we came across tiered, electric green rice fields that stretched forever, up to the foot of the hills. Behind the 
hills sat the Himalayas, finally showing themselves through a thick layer of clouds below. The entire village was so many different shades of green, and crops were growing everywhere. Stick fences marked one persons property from another, and homes ranged from tiny one story mud structures to multi leveled cement buildings. Roughly 90% of Nepal's population are subsistence farmers, and this village definitely fell into that category. Everyone had buffalo, chickens, goats, cows, and a pretty large plot of land which they grew rice, dal, potatoes, spinach, and other vegetables. Everything on their property went into their stomachs, and the little surplus they had each year might pay for a new shirt or new sandals. The village was extremely poor, little kids walking around in shirts caked with stains, eating bark off of sticks. There was no electricity, no toilet, and the only running water was found at a public tap somewhere on a main trail outside of a family's property.
The family I stayed with had an older sister who seemed to do all the work around the house. I think the mother and 
father were always in the field, but I actually hardly saw them. The sister would cook all day long, and while waiting on things to boil or simmer she'd be cutting leaves down for the goats to eat, or tending to the buffalo. I never really saw her rest. The oldest boy, who never really seemed to be happy I was staying with them, pretty much did nothing. He would go to the river, hang out at the swing with all his friends, or sit around the house cleaning his shoes. It kinda sucked. He basically just seemed like a typical 16 year old, into the few clothes he had, into looking cool, and into being rude towards everyone in his family. There were a lot of parties at night, and he'd take off to them without inviting me, but I think that's because he was probably drinking and didn't want me to tell anyone. The first night I did go with him though, and everyone was dancing and singing to one drum. They insisted I dance even though I tried to tell them I couldn't because of my knee, so I did a little. They all seemed to enjoy this, but I think they had a better time just making fun of me. I'm sure a white person trying to do the traditional Nepali dance is a pretty funny sight. I actually incorporated the "serve it up" and they had no idea, it was awesome. Serve it up has officially gone international.
So my days were spent at the river, reading at the house, walking around the village. Tek's (the oldest boy) friends would take me around, and we'd go walking through rice paddies. One day we went into the nearest town to see a Nepali flim. Yes, flim, that's what they call them here, don't ask me. Man it was horrible. They have the same style and stories as Hindi Flims, so they're not too original. It's pretty funny, the Hindi flim market is the biggest film market in 
the world, and puts out more than double the amount of films that Hollywood does. The difference is the quality though. Take the worst Mentos commercial you've ever seen, combine it with the crappiest student film ever made, and then take all that down 10 points and you have a Nepali flim. It was so bad, and so long. The lights finally came on and the picture stopped, and I thought I was free, and then Tek turns to me and says "Half time." There's this extremely cheesy actor who is in almost every movie made here, and during the last fight scene, when the camera cuts to him running up to save the day, the entire crowd started yelling and whistling. And not the "you're cute" kind of whistle, the kind of whistle where you take both hands and put them in your mouth and blow. I sat there totally confused.
So other than that, the village stay was pretty darn slow. The weirdest thing about it was how many people asked me to take them to America. A few hours after I met Tek, he took out his passport, which he got solely for the purpose of going to America, and asked me to take him with me. He said his village was very poor and that he wanted to work and send back money. Other teenagers were asking me how much it cost to get there, what kind of jobs they could get. One man, Badri, invited me to his house for the afternoon, and I sat there with his sons and wife, drinking buffalo milk and eating sweet rice, while we talked about Nepal and America. They were asking about wages, and what we ate. They were shocked that we didn't eat rice for every meal. Actually I never brought up rice while listing off the things I used to eat a lot. After that he told me how he wants to go to California for work, and what jobs could he get, and could I help him. He talked about how hard he worked in his farm all day every day, and how they still had nothing but food to show for it. He wants his son to be able to come to America for opportunity, and again, asked what I could do to help them. I finally had to say I couldn't do anything, and when asked why, I had to tell them it wasn't my decision whether or not they could get in.
So all those interactions left me feeling really uncomfortable. I wasn't sure if people were trying to make friends with me or a plane ticket, if they were talking to me because they enjoyed it or because they hoped I would like them and want to take them over. I also had an easy cop out though, being able to tell them that I was going to be in Nepal for two years and couldn't do anything now anyways. When I told them that though, people actually asked me to help find them work in Godavari. I thought it was odd that me, a brand new foreigner, knowing nothing about this country, was being asked to look for work for people that have lived here all their lives.
I think for the first time I really felt how desperate the people in this country really are, and I can't really help but to compare their situation to mine. Seeing how they live their lives, day to day, same ol same ol, living from meal to meal. They have no vacation pay, no vacations, no retirement, no health or dental, no money. My perspective on life was that you grew up, became educated, discovered the talents and gifts you had been given, and tried to find ways to utilize those gifts. I've always been keen on experiences, going places, seeing things, meeting new people. How do you do that though when the whole day is spent picking the rice you will eat that night? How do people pursue dreams when you have to be at home all day making sure the goats are being fed? The notion of the "American Dream" really seemed to make a lot of sense to me while at this village. I know America has its problems, and I know there are people living in pretty similar fashions, but I think its safe to say that the majority of us, and pretty much this entire group list, lead such drastically different realities? And the weird thing is none of us did anything to become American. I was born that way, and have no idea why I wasn't born a Nepali. I have no idea why my country provides so many people with opportunity, with advantage, with structures that for the most part work. I have no idea why Badri, the man who had me over for the afternoon, was born in a country where the act of eating is itself a task and a lifestyle.
Along with all these questions, I think the week provided me with my first real taste of culture shock. I didn't really know that it was until I was talking to Tim after I returned. I felt a little relieved though when I found out that he had felt a lot of the same things I was. At points during the stay, I found myself getting really angry at no one in particular, but just pretty much at all of Nepal. I was angry that it was so dirty, that people were so poor, that only 40% of the people here can read and write, that people have no clue about conservation, that people don't know how to wait in lines or wait their turn. I stood there, outside the theater, thinking to myself how the whole entire country seemed totally incompetent. I think overall though, the anger stemmed from the simple fact that everything was so different. And all those differences were finally revealing themselves to me during one long vent. One thing I realized though, is how the people are not to blame. Every time I see someone throw their trash out the window of a car or on the ground while walking, it frustrates me so much, but then I have to tell myself that the "Don't Litter" mentality is something that has to be taught. Americans spent millions on the "Give a hoot, don't Pollute" campaign, and for the most part, it seems like that is ingrained in our heads. And for the people who haven't gotten it though their heads that littering is bad, we hire people to clean it up. Here though, the entire country seems to be suffering from the corrupt and bankrupting actions of a handful of politicians from a few decades ago. Political families from years back took all the country's money and built palaces for themselves (aka the school I teach in and the house I live in) and sapped the country dry. I don't really know too much about the current government, but wrap the Maoist problem up into everything and nothing seems to get done and recovery seems a long way off. No wonder trash ins't too high up on the agenda.
So that was my week. Like I said, it felt a lot better when Tim told me that almost any American who stays here for more than a month has probably gone through the same feelings. You come out of it eventually, but it's interesting to realize that you're in the middle of a process. Where that process will take me I have no idea.
Well, that's about all I'll write for now. I was glad for the village experience, even with all the ups and downs. Going to be doing little things here and there next week during the break, then we'll all go to Pokorah, another big city, and spend a few days there. School starts again on the 30th, so there's still a long time before I get in the class again.
I hope you're fantastic.
Love Kvin