17_Getting closer to the good and bad things in the village

Today i celebrate my 10 days anniversary in Far East Nepal.

I have talked to so many people already, and will talk even more. As for now, I covered 2 central wards of the village (the village is divided in 9 wards and to reach the last one takes 6 hours of walk for locals). By employing the strategy of seeing an interviewee for at least 2 times I manage to build contacts, get lots of village snacks (some roots, some super sour small fruits, some roasted beans), to see people running from their houses when they hear that I am nearby. Is it the same village where people would stare at me and turn their heads after the eye contact? All of them tell me “bichaaraaaa” (poor you), because of my poor language schools, all of them would have those sad eyes when I turn my back to leave their house. They are so happy and they tell me thank you just because I’ve travelled so long and I came to see them.

I am still not tired of this peace and lack of everything the city gives-opportunities, shops, different people and noise, noise, noise. Cannot stop admiring the natural beauty of stunning mountains, forests and rivers.  I just wish I could get fruits here, and sometimes decide by myself what I want to eat. For couple of days I’ve been eating easy version of daal bhat-rice with potatoes. Maybe due to this lack of protein or general tiredness we both were hardly walking up today.

Yes, I am walking up-down all days, with long breaks for interviews though. I cannot decide-whether I shall ask university to pay me more for this physically hard task or it is me who should pay them for giving an opportunity of daily gym in this beautiful surrounding?

Young children at school

And then I am getting so angry by seeing the educational system and how the potential of young people is killed in schools. I know, I should be happy for seeing schools in a place, where most of the people in their 40-ties have never attended the school, because in their time this place was too remote. I know, I should be happy, but… students from 12^th class have almost all the books in English (even accounting or marketing, for example), but they are unable to say even very primitive sentences in English (!!!). Small children are deadly scared when I play the simple educational game with them, simply because school for them is blind repeating. I’ve been thinking of making some classes with children or workshops with youth, but then-probably I should just shut my westerner inside and not go against the whole army of teachers with my methods. Teachers here are gods and they jealously protect their territory. Even though I believe I could make changes in a small group of youth if I work with them constantly-others would not accept them anymore. So maybe it is just me who needs to accept this educational culture, so wrong according to me.

Lesson at school:typically outside, at this season it is too cold to sit inside

I totally love my company of two wonderful girls (of their 19 and 18) and our understanding each other. But I feel so sorry seeing them as wives in their near future. Recently one woman told me that I am at the age when the life of the woman ends, because she is getting married.  Another time I was looking at the photos and commented that the brides always look so sad at their wedding pictures. The answer was-for most of the girls this is the saddest day. I closed the tears inside me remembering my friends getting married, being so beautiful, so happy, dreaming about this day since their childhood. Here many brides are crying. I am still to get just a bit closer to the life of a woman, probably I will never get close enough. Comparing to other villages I get the impression of mostly a healthy family environment in houses. Then where is this pain coming from?

Sometimes it feels like I’ve been here all the time and the world outside does not exist. Sometimes I am getting so tired starving for the comforts I am used to-bathroom, easy walking, fruits. I have never been so happy from receiving letters from outside. Then I plan what to do when I come back. But mostly I want to stay here longer than I can.

How will be my 30 day anniversary?

16. Involving and being involved_breaking in the village

suspicious locals during focus group interview

I was scared several times just since I came. First of all, my host said a story of foreigners coming to implement a project here, but no one among locals did trust them so no one wanted to talk to them. If not my host, who actually risked and helped the foreigners, the village would not get several developmental projects. Another story was from my interviewee, who said "When foreigners come and ask people cannot speak. They know, but they don't say. Even if they know they still say "I don't know."

How can I make my interviewees speak if I even do not know the language and sit quiet like an ameba most of the time?

How can I make this research interesting for them? Last time I did several short interviews and they seemed to be far less from OK. I worked for few years in the journalist group, also for my studies I conducted so many interviews with very different people in different languages-and trust me, I really know how to make them. I thought I could “open” everyone simply because during the talk I become so fascinated by this person, almost like falling in love. Obviously, this encouraged another person a lot and the conversation rose very successfully, often going over time limits. However, now I fail. I hate myself for not being able to talk without the translator and without feeling them, like I always do. Only once, hearing a case of a mother crying for her son to disappear somewhere abroad, my sadness did not know its borders and the woman felt it. She didn’t want to talk to us at the beginning, but once she started she could see my feelings getting so close to hers, supporting and crying, just like I would quietly hold the hand of my best friend at her worst moments of life. At that moment the translator was not needed any more, when he was translating my words, the woman just said-I know, I can feel that.

Apart from that their words remain just words and never come close to my mind and soul. By writing their answers I can easily mix the people in my mind, feeling betraying their life stories.

How can I talk to them and let them talk to me? Shall I just rely on time? Even if I manage to build trust, confidence and friendship, this place is so scarce, that I would need to repeat the same long process of building trust many many times.

Today I came to talk to young people in the school. I talked twice and the first talk was a total disaster. The group of young boys would sit and don’t make any sound, trying to avoid an eye contact, trying not to look at me and mostly having their eyes down. It felt like I am here to punish them and they are just sitting at the principal’s office, making the impression that they acknowledge their fault. The second talk was easier, we arranged sitting on the ground, being more equal and more informal. I started with a small introduction game and explained myself with more jokes. When I finished and said to ask questions, there was a deep silence. This time I’ve decided not to let it be like that, so I divided them in 4 groups and asked to discuss with the 2 other people questions. It actually worked, slowly questions started to come. Girls shyer and not willing to say anything, but later they were interested in me more than in what I am doing. Fair enough, I just wanted them to be active. They sort of expressed their willingness to help, but we also have agreed that we meet tomorrow and two people will arrange everyone to come at the same hour.

Now I am sitting waiting for the next meeting to present myself and wondering-where am I getting involved?! Willing to do the research I am actually taking the role of a youth worker, trying to teach those kids not to be quiet, to discuss, to share, to change their thinking and behaving habits. Who am I to do that? Do I have rights to do that, to intervene in this community, living its own rhythm and doing it quiet well? Why would I need to introduce western standards of youth empowerment? Noone asked me here to come and no one said they need what I am doing here. Shall I step out before it is too late? What if that is too hard and will take all my time without any success?

Actually this photo was taken on the last focus group interview with young people... The beginning was not that easy at all

12. Leaving Kathmandu or balance in unbalance

1. Getting packed
My big bag is packed, my small one is waiting just to be stuffed. There is only a night before my return back to village. Knowing that there is only a night in between, I am trying to postpone the time of getting less sleep,  to trick the time and my mind and my fear.

It is crazy how much I am addicted to comfort, to nice people of my interest, to warm bed, independence  good food. Knowing that already tomorrow my life will turn upside down, makes me willing to stay, to write methodology, to enjoy Kathmandu.

My last days here were full of all sort of events, making me unable to work and to know what to do upon arrival. Above all, there were my visits to dentist. Being so super-natural my body violently opposes any kind of external medications or devices, even local anesthesia. So every time I get this liquid, which is supposed to help not to feel pain, I get shivers, numbness and a crazy beating heart. Normally I could cope will all this and hold my breath being afraid that my strong shivers would make a dentist drill all the teeth altogether. Last time, though, I was even more unlucky by getting a needle in the nerve. This indescribable pain reaching my eyes and tears made me scream, cry and jump out of the chair at the same time. Being the worst pain in my life, the tears would just run out of my eyes making this dry Nepali season worse than monsoon. The treatment was still done and I almost felt OK, apart from running tears. Although with passing numbness the reality turned to be harsh-burning cheek, inability to smile or to open my mouth widely,  pain in jaws and eye. Consulting google made it even worse, because he said it could take months or eternity for a nerve to heal. I must say I am quite lucky though, by feeling pain I didn't let the dentist to put all the anesthesia inside and probably that’s why already next day I could smile, function and even chew properly, although without feeling a taste of food yet.

Anyway, that was not a good preparation for trip and not allowing me to work.

2. Trading my comfort for the second time

Leaving 9rooms was not easy. It was challenging me with discomforts possible only in Nepal-loses of electricity, water, internet; relying on sun and dying every evening due to cold. However, I managed to create my little zone of home and comfort, which is never reached in the hotel and for what long term travelers are so much longing for.

 We might enjoy it or we might hate it, but we are always strangers in countries so different from ours. We might create our social circles and to have lots of fun,  but there is somewhere deep inside us the wish to be understood just from our gestures,  to have common understanding of how things should go just because we have that common meaning of what is right and what is wrong. Sometimes we stick ourselves to foreign culture so well that no one, even not ourselves, can say any difference. When I visit my country, the most striking moment is going by bus from airport to the centre. Out of the sudden I can hear everything people say. I understand what they say. Moreover, I really understand what they say, I know the second meaning under each word and I know what that person will do in the second moment and what others expect him to do. And then I feel tired. So so tired of being a person, who is always at the social edge.

9rooms-of course, was not the homely home, but it was the place where I could arrange my life around my little favourite habits, making my days cozy. Besides, I really enjoyed that weird group of strange people, who came to Kathmandu to live. Why did they come here? Everyone could say their own reason, but I know, the real reason is never spelled out, they keep quiet just like me. I call those people seekers. Having those seekers around me life like that seems much more real than the one at home. It seems so unreal and stupid to strive for career, to go for achievements, to work or study hard, to pretend to be someone else, and even to try to look good. Everything here feel so much more important-to have long breakfasts, to have deep talks and even deeper moments of quietness, to have cross cultural jokes and have a proper sleeping time. No doubt that in this fertilized environment the friendship grows. It is not often you meet another weird seeker like you! So at the moment when interaction appears, your soul grows close to another soul and there is no time for masks and there is a point of being true just as you are, growing even closer in this soul nakedness. My two wonderful friends, so different inside and outside immediately bought my sincerity and we would spend hours talking about guys, religion, meaning of life and reincarnation.

How could I trade this place and risk again with my stability and social acceptance? Balance is in unbalance, as I always say.

14_Through frustrations towards peace and being alone in Nepali language world

This night I woke up due to the nightmare, feeling that someone is pressing my hips. Opening the eyes I had nightmare related fewer and took of a layer of clothes hoped for relief. Turning from one side to another side I suddenly heard a strong rain hitting the roof and that made me feel quiet. Probably the air pressure was causing my discomfort. Although also the rain with changing hail did was not that pleasant either, several times I would open my eyes getting afraid the hail to destroy my roof. Luckily I would soon close my eyes feeling happy of not being killed by rain drops.

Morning came with few more drops, but above all- the wonderful view of snowy mountain tops and powerful clouds being so close. It was fresh and beautiful.

The family where I stayed

After a morning interview I finally moved into my new house. The mother of the family is the woman who bought my love immediately. The woman with a warm smile and mother care just wanted me to feel good by all means. She was not scared of me saying few words in Nepali and understood more than I said. While talking to her I could see my face turning into child expression what I have with very few people and in very few occasions. My stay here should be good, I said to myself.

And so-my new house has two floors and it belongs to the local businessman and generally important, smart and quite rich person. It felt a bit wrong to stay with a rich person, but I really desire the highest comfort I can get in this village. Besides, in Nepali village context rich people are also the most responsible people, thinking about development of the whole village. I struggled a bit attempting to get my own room and finally got it (in the evening it turned to be that I still got a room to share with other girls, but I insisted again). As I said, house has two floors and few rooms are for guests only.

My room is on the first floor and it is quite painful and difficult to get out – the stairs are quite painful and in the evening everything is locked and sealed, so getting for toilet outside is almost impossible. Beds are on wood and the air is going all through my room and there is no really temperature difference with inside and outside-the gap between the walls and the roof is of 20-30 centimeters.

The house kitchen is outside, containing the place for fire. Normally the family would gather there during the evening to eat and enjoy the heat coming from the fire. It feels nice, but my eyes are crying sitting so close to fire in the closed room, so I rather minimize this enjoyment after taking the meal. This evening I also gave up my intentions to eat with a spoon and finally have started eating with my fingers. I would previously always deny this, saying that this liquid food is just so disgusting to eat with a hand. Actually, it is, but I got used to it so fast and even started liking it.

During the second half of the day we went just to another ward. Nepal is divided in 75 administrative districts, each of them containing village development committees (VDC). VDCs, in return, all apart from cities, consists of 9 wards. That another ward was on another side of the hill, which means going down and going up. Overall takes one hour of enjoying the nature and crossing the bamboo bridge. Surprisingly, I was almost not feared to walk on those old narrow woods hearing cracks and feeling how the bamboo dangerously bents under my weight.

The view from another side of the hill is even more beautiful. After this physical exercise and being attacked by this calmness the frustrations slowly started to disappear and the peace quietly entered my heart.  Nothing to question and nothing to doubt, it felt impossible not to be happy in this pure motherly beauty.

It appeared that the person we were looking was a tall Nepali man whose handsomeness would be envied by all Hollywood and Bollywood stars. Being 45 he looked like 30, which is very strange in the village where people usually look much older than they are. I felt shy to talk to this portrait of beauty, trying to hide my unexpectedly active feminine features. In Nepal I almost forgot to be a woman. I have had only a small pocked mirror I used throughout the month only few times mostly to look at my teeth. Here it felt so much important to be warm and to put big jackets and within this dust it just seemed so inappropriate to think about being be pretty. Besides, Nepali men are very polite even in their looks and I completely abandoned my look putting make up only on few occasions.

But this time it was so hard to be a middle gender as always! I kept my professionalism though, maybe speaking Nepali and smiling a bit more and a bit differently than usually, turning from my middle gender personality into a woman again. The result was unexpectedly good; few men joined our conversation and shared their experiences, very valuable for the research. This time people did not just answer questions, but also asked me questions (and not only boring-where are you from type of) and the interview turned into a long talk, after which I felt friends with them, for the first time here. I was thinking so much about the ways how to approach the people here-can the femininity be the key?

Today was my first day without my assistant, finally getting unattached and facing the need to speak a lot. Most of the time I do not understand what they say or ask me, but I noticed that I can intuitively guess, the feature what I sometimes feel appearing. This way I travelled in Italy and managed to talk to people. I really have NO IDEA how I managed to do that, but I had few talks with pure Italians not knowing any word in English. This time also, only my shyness and fear to misunderstand usually keeps me from answering the question I have not understood. However, in all the cases my thoughts are right and it is true that the INTUITION translates the language. Isn’t that amazing?

15. My world of illusions

-So you have already spoken about me staying in this house?

-Yes I did.

-Why?! We have agreed to speak about it at the end!

-This is just the way the conversation evolved.

My assistant sometimes makes me scared and desperate. He is a very honest and responsible person, who always does everything required and even more, thinks a step ahead and even without me telling him manages to arrange so many things. On the other hand there are times (quite often) when we do not understand each other even on basics. This morning I asked him to call me when the food is ready. I came to his room after half an hour and got to know that he has already eaten and he thought I will come down when I feel hungry.

How can I expect people understand me even if my assistant, who’s English is perfect, doesn’t? I feel like living in illusions where I create my own world imagining people understanding me. Today I was approached by few people from organic farming organization, who came to make training. That’s nice, isn’t it? They came to talk to me because they were told I also work with agriculture. Oh my…

This time it was worse. Together with my assistant we were supposed to go to the house, where I could potentially stay. Agreed to make an interview first and talk a while to make people comfortable with me and vice versa. And how do you think my assistant has started the conversation? Exactly, with the main thing.

So scared to stay alone in this house I vividly drew in my mind all my struggles with Nepali language and adapting to their life. This time it is not a short visit when I can “escape” and talk to my assistant or to myself or when I leave in couple of days anyway. This time it is staying with the family for a month. I know it is nothing special and thousands of researchers have done it, but it is still…. Scary.

My heart sunk hearing about the necessity to stay with two other girls in one room. I’ve stayed in one room with other people many times in my life, but... It is not that I am afraid to live with Nepali girls.
 However, in western world we are used to individualistic culture, where each stands for oneself, and that is not only about importance of your own opinion or your own capabilities to find a job. Small details become especially strong while abroad. Apparently I start realizing my individualism when I need my space when I am opening a bank account and I don’t want collective help of pushing people commenting on my personal information. I need my space when I sit in the bus and I don’t want somebody’s kid to sit on my legs. I also don’t want the wife of my dentist to come inside to observe the problems in my mouth. I actually demand the door of the dentist room not to be opened when I am in.

Here in the village you can almost forget about making interviews with one person unless you kidnap her and take her far away. Normally there would be at least 4 people coming so close to me that at the end it is me who feels shy from lack of their respect towards my space. There would be also crying babies and children; normally one 6-year old kid would carry on his back another kid. Adults would comment and contribute with their saying to everything, children would be always silent. All generations would stare at me. Sometimes especially among young people I would raise deep and sincere sympathy and then it is even worse. I really appreciate that and also their hospitality, but I crazily do need my space when I pee in the toilet.

Knowing all this I could imagine girls sitting on my bad curiously staring at my computer and asking so many questions that at the end I would not be able to write even a word. What a relief when I managed to get a single room!

During the first night they would still come to my room and observe me unpacking everything. During the second night I would come to their room, because it is simply warmer and cozier. They would work and I would study and noone would disturb anyone. I bow in front of that family.

Next day in the evening I went to a cultural event called Bhajan Mandali, which gathers Brahmins for singing and dancing hindu religious songs. And-yes, I was dancing too! 

13. Going home, going to Falaichha

One part of my huge village. 

Reaching Falaichha plane +taxi+bus+overnight stay+bus+bus was tiring as always, although every time the length of travel depends on luck and transport strategy. In the last bus I was frequently asking Sunil-is this already Chanktapu [the neighbouring village]? and receiving answer “no”, would get calm and relaxed. As it usually happens I somehow wanted and didn’t want to reach the destination. I fell into the lazy boring reflexive mood not willing to be interrupted and to do/think/go/plan something. Being totally in dust and exhausted from the ride and being squeezed by bags and people I still did not want to change my situation for as long as possible.

Going to Falaichha. A place of loneliness and linguistical and ethnical marginalization. A place of sqatting toilets located far outside. Beds on wood and food made on fire. A place of no cars and few people, long slipper walks. And forest. Going to Falaichha. Going home.

At the point when the jeep crossed the watershed and we all jumped due to bumps I realized – I’ve been here, we are close to the destination. Fear and joy mixed together and the excitement made last 30 minutes long as eternity. Finally my bag inside the bag cover was thrown out and I rolled out from the jeep. Immediately the anger took over my general mood and I got back to my role of a circus animal. Struggling with motion post-sickness symptoms and trying to get my bag out from the tight and incredibly dirty cover is a physically hard task, which becomes worse being tightened by a circle of people observing me with children glaze-too curious, normally perceived as rude and impolite in my world. I am a human! Either you help or stop staring at me; don’t you see how hard it is for me?!!!! – I screamed in my mind, reminding myself never to lose patience here or I might lose the key to those people’s hearts forever.

Typical-surrounded by children

Field work is not only your ability as a researcher; you need to combine qualities of a psychologist, sociologist and a person always in good mood. I belong to myself only in those few moments being alone; all the other time I am observed and monitored. Even though I am quieter here than any other time in my life (apart from the period when I lost my voice few years ago) every inappropriate move from my side is a lost game as it will create a snowball of gossips rolling around me. 

Pure philosophy and no pictures

 I sort of like it, my life in Kathmandu. I’ve written so much about different challenges I am facing, about cold, pollution, dangers and discomfort here. To be honest, I hate most of the things I see here, but on the other hand I enjoy my life here too.

Another day I was speaking to my friend that I believe I lived in Nepal in previous lives and therefore being here, visiting these places is an absolute must for me. Throughout the way I was raised I have developed certain life criteria and the type of mind which would hate (I repeat again) most of what I see, hear, feel here on each and every step: ignorance, inequalities, corruption, destroying environment, cheating…

On the other hand at the moment of getting out from the plane and changing the picture from organized Europe to Nepal I feel like throwing my habits, clothes and beliefs, getting into old skirts, putting oil in my greasy hair, not washing face or body, running barefoot having different chains, necklaces and bangles, running on the small trails, jumping from a stone to stone across the river to maybe reach that lonely house on the top of that hill. I guess somewhere deep inside my logical organized essence there is a hidden Nepali mountain child. Call it whatever you do.

And then my friend would say that I seem to be so natural here and my “hate” also seem very natural, just like natives would complain about their country too.

…

I like my pace here. I enjoy waking up with the sun, my slow mornings and the joy of making a breakfast, lunch and dinner. I love going for vegetable shopping and to see so much of fresh varieties. Remembering Danish supermarkets full of frozen vegetables, which look like dead bodies in the mortuary. No wonder people eat so much meat, those Danish vegetables are energy-less!

I love my evening hearing stories of people from different world parts.

And I love that here the whole day is taken by practical things for living. I even enjoy the necessity to wait and to spend so much time for everything here. To get angry for “wasting my time” and at the end to become a little bit more peaceful, less stressed, more quiet.

Here I would almost never wear make-up or look in the mirror, most of the time I really don’t care about my look. I would not need to go to Danish class when I am tired, to be always in shape, to go daily to the office, smile and talk about nothing, make plenty of calls to officials, deal with bills, house, shopping, a flatmate, a boyfriend, running, not sleeping, relaxing only in a weekly yoga class and still thinking about tomorrow.

Here everything is the same. Apart that my solitude and slow speed makes everything so quiet. It feels like I am getting closer to something sacred and I am quietly happily excited. I guess that something is myself.