22_marriages in rural Nepal

A week ago I attended one marriage ceremony. It was a Limbu-Rai marriage and even though a groom was born here, both of them now live in Sikkim (India). That was my first holiday and I was so happy, finally I could talk without my assistant – Sikkim people speak very good English.

Immediately upon arrival I got a specially honoured place, firstly I went to the room where the bride was dressed up. A beautiful girl was deeply in love with her husband, but definitely not happy about the whole procedure. She was far from an excited girl in the white dress, waiting for that day all her life. The wedding here is rather an exhausting ceremony for a young couple and the family. Especially in their case as they needed to come from Sikkim and there was just a short part of the road so they needed to walk a lot.

It was a second time for a girl to enter that house. She didn’t know anyone; all the guests from the village and from Sikkim are from the groom’s side, no friends or relatives from her side. These people will become her family from now on, but… having a wedding without being able to share it with your closest ones… I think she was happy to talk to me, especially because we spoke English and many people would not get the sense. Would she be able to say to her new family that she is tired?

Anyway she was one of those few lucky girls marrying on the right age with a person she knew and loved. Most of the cases are not like that and I will explain them more.


(But before that-few pictures from the local wedding!)

The first place where hosts bring the guests  in Limbu wedding-to a  place where alcohol is made

A desk where people give money, food or alcohol. All the gifts are carefully written down in a special journal by "accountant".

A group of dancers is inviting a new couple to join the party

The young husband is performing traditional Limbu dance with his group

The couple is receiving a blessing 

Me dancing. All the people came to look at me :)

Young couple

---
Continuation

Being a woman I look at the perspective of a girl and so will be my description here. Sometimes it is love marriage: a boy and a girl meet few times and think they are good for each other, they are both of the appropriate caste, parents agree and everyone is happy.  After the mobile phone became a property of every young person, frequently there is another scenario-a couple meet during some festival, exchange phone numbers and start secretly calling each other, finally deciding to get married. Thinking that their parents would not agree for the marriage, a girl runs away from the house. And once she has done it, there is no way back, she is married.

Another type is arranged marriages when parents decide about the partner. Occasionally in those cases a girl has a right to agree or disagree with a man she barely manages to see once. But not always. Once I have met a girl of the age of around 22. She was studying and living temporarily with her uncle in the lowlands. In the morning a group of unknown people came and in few hours she got married with a person she has never seen in her life. In few more hours she went with him to her new house in mountains, far from her comfort and understanding. Here she needed to learn everything she has never done before-to walk up and down on the bad roads, to collect firewood and make food on the fire for the whole family. She has been falling many times becoming an object to laugh. She has learned many things, though even after 6 months she is still in the shock. Has she learned to love her husband? I don’t know.

Age for a bride varies, from 14-25 and it’s not always that those young girls are forced to get married; quite frequently they are the ones who run away. Just like modern Nepali Juliet.

The story is not yet over; sometimes a man decides to have several wives. For whatever reasons he brings another woman in the house and then the two share a husband, duties and a house, calling each other “sister”. In some cases the new wife and the old wife do not find peace and the old wife is sent somewhere, to his parents, for example. There are also worse scenarios-a man is travelling around, marrying here and there (in our world we would call it f…ing here and there), making children and at some point moving further in search of a new wife. I’ve talked to one woman here; she lives just with her son on the rented land. Just during my stay period she needed to change the house, because the owner of the previous one asked her to leave. She said her husband has around 12 wives.

...

Through walking here and there in different wards I was out from my original house for 2 weeks. After coming back I got to know that a daughter is getting married in 1 month. She is 17. She has seen her groom for few minutes once in her life but she has already his photo on her mobile. I've asked if she is happy. She has said that she is very sad.

21_Right here, right now

I am walking high up and looking down to small houses from another hill. They seem so small. Just like from the plane which is taking off. Just like from the plane going home.

Home.

I am trying to understand what is home for people living here-Hindu, Limbu, Rai, Magar… females, males, migrants, youth, homeless…  Though I do not know what is home for me. I lived in different places of 11 countries, 9 of them in last 6 years (I count only the places where I have spent at least a month). Where is my home or I am just a nomad person, creating a home where I go?

Going home.

Sometimes the flash memories give bliss-me going by bike to university in Copenhagen, entering my rented flat and not being afraid of low ceiling and poor light, going to local Arab shop and cooking something tasty. Above all-rolling in the bed getting this pleasure from touching clean smooth bed sheets by my clean body.

So many times I try to imagine how it would be-to go out from the plane in the place which has never been my home. Denmark has always remained a cold, windy country and not only weather wise. And yet though I come there over and over in my mind. Must be because after many years that was the place which I could call-my place.

The beauty of mountains and fresh forest air are so bitter now, I want to spit it out and breathe again my first day excitement.  I am seeking for the answer and solution. It comes by itself – Right here, right now. I still do not get what is it that my inner voice says, but I know that is the key.

I am convinced there will be so many days when I will want to come back to this amazing experience of walking in remote Nepali village, but now I just want to go home. Right here, right now.

Perception of time has always fascinated me, especially when something falls from my hands. It just feels like I want to press Ctrl+Z and get it undone. And now I want to be in the place where I will miss the place I am now.

Everyone here is married apart from two people I’ve met. I say I am married too, and it feels so wrong-to lie and not to be married. It is so easy here, to get married. In the north we spend years to get to know each other, to understand if our characters fit and so on and so forth. Most of us “try” several times, dating several people before they find the “right one” or before the right time comes. Here the marriage is the necessity for survival; without a partner, without children you cannot sustain livelihood, the life here is simply not made in that way.

And in our world we want to find someone who will make us laugh and smile, who will have similar interests, who will be reliable and handsome… So many conditions.

It feels so wrong to be unmarried. Again I am trying to jump with my mind to the time when I would be a married woman. Maybe I never will. All those time combinations.

Right here, right now.

I am learning mindfulness. Breathe in-4 steps, breathe out-6 steps. I breathe in the answers of respondents, I breathe in the mountains, the tea and me sweating and going up. I breathe out and smile to my body, to my chair, to the staring people.

I am right here and right now. I bound my mind to this and learn uni-tasking, uni-thinking, uni-being. 

20_Clash of identities, clash of worlds

I went out from the kitchen and there was this song of Louis Armstrong-what a wonderful world played in the poor quality radio. Out of the sudden I was different – having a nice dress, makeup and high heels, smiling and feeling the flirt in the air. It would be the same sky with the same stars, so romantic and so big, it would feel I want to breathe in the whole world in my lungs. I would be feminine and beautiful, enjoying every second of this young time given to me.

And here was I – having the same clothes for long and seeing myself only once a day from the broken dirty small mirror, having all days and nights the same cheap fleece hat, eating loudly sucking my fingers in local style, not shaving my legs and wearing big mountain boots for weeks.

A big ball stacked somewhere in my chest, getting a dose of tears and rolling up getting ready to outburst on the outer part. Why did I get to know another world before? Why have I come to know this world? Now I am somewhere in between, with lost identity, unable to live in any of those places anymore.

I have made a rule for myself-not to watch any of those movies I have spent so much time to download prior going to the village. Once I did that mistake, feeling that I have deserved it after a long and tiring day. The movie was crap, but I couldn't stop it, I watched for a big western city and clothes, apartments, parties, bathrooms, restaurants, sofas and street lights. Everything I got tired from, but everything I spent all my life in. I sat in my sleeping bag, feeling so drunk and dizzy. My mind could not process all that information I have seen and everything I am in now. Those wooden walls, holes instead of windows and newspapers instead of wallpapers-is this all just a dream or I am trapped? Will I be ever able to go back? Where is this place-to go back? And is that place real? In this clash of worlds I felt so confused, not even sure if I am sad, rather sick. That night I was empowered enough to break through all the obstacles and go to the toilet at night, I did not know though if I could make it, my head was spinning around.

My typical room

“Are you real?” I asked the buffalo on my way. The animal continued eating looking at me with its big smart eyes. That buffalo is so tired of non-stop eating and living on a short lease. It can only stand or lay, and maybe a step around the pole. And I am free-born in freedom and having my wings to fly despite whatever financial, social or personal constraints are there. Noone has ever managed to tie me. Or maybe I should let to be attached, to be tied and to have my place? To stop this war of the worlds…

ritualistic fire during "puja" (worship)

I will not watch movies here anymore.

19_Then and now - village life and local shamans

Then and now – different overlapping times in village life.

I wrote so much already about the place and I think this is the last time to describe it more properly. My very eastern place very recently did not have electricity or roads and schools (road was built only 2 years ago). Those, who did not work in agriculture, carried goods from Sikkim, walking for 2-3 days across the mountains with heavy loads. Some other woman would make a trip on small trails through mountains for 4 days from Phidim (the closest town) having a baby or two attached in front and the necessary items for household behind. A rare person in the age 35+ have finished more than 5 classes, those a bit older say that there were no teachers around. I’ve talked to people of different ages, those older from the closest ward (bazaar) and those younger migrants (in their early 20ties) from the furthest and highest ward – both of those age group share similar past of exhausting work and lack of shoes and jackets on the snow. Those people did not have electricity, biscuits, they would depend on weather and not warm clothes.

Recently I talked to a boy of 21 who moved from higher mountains here 5 years ago. He needed to leave the school after 5^th class and go to work for 5 years, being a herder in higher and colder altitudes. In that region the food is hard, it’s too cold to plant rice, so they eat corn, which is “easy to grow, hard to eat”. After these 5 years he moved here, which is another ward (same village, just another administrative region) and went to school again, although unsuccessfully, because he forgot most of the things. But in school he found a beautiful girl and got married (here love marriages are rare; mostly they are arranged by parents). In fact, this thin boy of youngish appearance is my favourite interviewee; I can talk to him for hours admiring his intellect. He couldn’t pass 10^th class exams, but personally I would give him master’s degree straight away. By no doubts he is the smartest person I’ve met in this village – he makes objective conclusions, easily goes from details to abstraction, and draws parallels and linkages between different phenomena. I usually say – if I talk to him for 5 days, I can finish my PhD just by writing everything he said. This man of strong physical and moral core, straight opinion and no fear to express it clearly (like absolutely all the others) is only 21 and only few classes of education.

a caravan of "chauri" (a crossed cow and yak) led by young boys; going to the settlement, where the rice cannot be grown

In this central village people now have the road and the life is so much easier. Even though doctors are still located only in Phidim (within 4-5 hours of drive), this place is reachable now.  Goods are no more carried from Sikkim and daily vehicles basically bring everything. This local “taxi” (a jeep which is filled with twice more people than its capacity) still operates 1-2 times a day and is the only transport apart from 1-2 motorbikes I’ve noticed around. There are also few shops where I could buy biscuits, noodles, few clothes and soaps.

Beginning of a ritual

Local shamans

Health doctor functions are performed by shamans (called “chakri”), who use drums to go in the transcendental status and ask spirits to help. There is quite a heavy overpopulation of healers who got that special power through shivers. According to my calculations (I have scientific approach to everything!) there is one chakri to 3 households. Depending from ethnicity and religion those chakri have slightly different methods. In this village people can roughly be divided into 2 categories-Hindu and Matawali (mongoloig race, indigenous people). Originally (though not always in practice) Hindu do not drink alcohol. Matawalis, also called drinkers, drink local alcohol almost daily. This drinking culture is inherited also in chakri practices; therefore all those healing procedures and worshiping of gods are done after a great dose of tumba (local alcohol).

Ritual change of clothes of a central guru

Imitation of a shaman

Few days ago I went to chakri event of Limbu (one Matawali ethnicity), organized every 5 or 7 years. On that special day chakris are worshipping their guru (teacher) and have some ritual performances. My excitement went down during the evening quite fast. Chakris most of the time would enjoy their time by drinking and talking to friends (spectators), at some points chanting, making shivers showing their power and beating plates to fight with bad spirits and to make a border for demons not to enter this place. The whole procedure would be accompanied by few very drunk spectators, who would jump after chakris making jokes and imitating healers for the fun and laugh of all the other people. After many hours I was already so tired of doing nothing and getting the same questions which became already so boring to answer (Why are you here, where are you from etc.). Then the rooster was sacrificed by few other drunken people, having in general so much fun. Finally, after 5 hours of waiting the culmination of the evening came and chakris performed a wild dance around the place of worshipping, beating plates even faster and stronger; at the end letting a young chakri to climb up the stairs and to show his shivers. For a while the wild dance together with few men far from being sober continued. Later another healer went inside the house, where he jumped around the middle and sang the future of this house. He was singing in Limbu language, so it was hard to get someone to translate; but finally we got the main idea of his prediction – the eldest daughter and eldest son of this house would not make any harm to this house. One daughter has problems in her stomach and at some points her heart will hurt and she will say “ayay”.  Very interesting prediction, I must say, especially taking into account that every young girl in this village has gastritis.

Preparing a rooster for sacrifice

It was the night when I went to sleep very late. Normally I go to sleep here at 9-10, at that day it was 12-30, too late for villagers like me.

The rhythms are intensifying

Spirits came to this young shaman and so he experiences shivers on this specially made ladder

18_Throughout bad days

Actually this post is one of those when everything is bad. In fact, now it is much better, I moved to another house closer to my current place of research, here are two small wonderful girls, who are entertaining me quite actively and, most importantly-I’m not bitten anymore. So it is much better now, but since this post was written, I post it anyway.

…

And so suddenly I felt like I cannot cope with that anymore.

I got used to eating with a hand, sitting and eating on the floor, squatting toilets far away from the house, walking long distances and changing heat and cold. I could get adapted to so many things, but there would be this “but”.

I started to hate my dependency on the family, being unable to decide when and if I can get warm water, when I can go to toilet, when I can wash myself in the middle of the yard all the neighbours being around. In this village a bathroom is a rare thing and mostly women are bathing in the long towel, having clothes under it so that no one can see anything. Since back at home I actually bath naked in the shower, it has been a real challenge for me to manage with all these towel/clothe thing. I still do not understand how to wash having so many wet clothes which are slipping down all the time. Luckily, several times I managed to sneak into neighbour’s bathroom, where I could get my privacy. Other days I would ask my family to warm some water on the fire for me, getting so many questions-“You want to wash yourself again?!!! You did that two days ago!” and sometimes waiting and freezing outside, being cold and wet, unable to put dry clothes, because slow neighbours would buy the chicken and would be quite curious to look at me.

And then those roads. In this very dry season the roads become so dry and they literally crush into pieces under the feet, and of course, such a clumsy person as me would fall immediately. I feel ashamed to fall and to walk so slowly when locals wear slippers and carry tens of heavy loads and can jump going down. Probably they think I am so weak and unskilled. But actually they are amazed how much and how fast I am walking. I guess they did not think white people can cope with those mountain roads at all…

But my patience was over not even because of those tensions from going up and down. I got totally desperate due to the smallest reason possible. The size is even tiniest than you think-I speak about fleas. For couple of days I have been persecuted by those blood suckers through day and night.  My body was swollen and 99% of my thinking was devoted to this itching pain. I washed my clothes and sleeping bag linen every morning and every evening, destroying my hands in the frozen water (it becomes lukewarm only during the day, when I am busy) and hoping to kill the fleas. It didn’t work. I rubbed the smelly neem oil (which is the main ingredient for flea repellent for pets), but apparently the Himalayan fleas are very resistant. I hated my sensitivity to those bites, but I felt helpless and I was forced to take anti-allergy pills, which could help me not to lose my mind. Even the insecticide poisoned me but not them.

My new flatmates-totally charming and smart two girls

Probably due to all this I had nightmares every night. In evenings I would usually have intention to wake up earlier either for yoga either for work. It never worked out, because I would be so exhausted seeing so much violence in my dreams. Finally, it became worse when I saw betrayal of a close person in my dream. I cried the whole night and first half of the day, being unable to get over this feeling, even though I knew it was unreal. Luckily that morning together with an assistant we took a decision to move closer to our current destination, so that we don’t need to spend 2 hours a day just to reach the place. In this house I got a physical peace (did not know it exists)-even though I sleep in the room with 4 other people, my body feels settled, maybe also because this time we did not get separated into different houses with my assistant and I have less pressure. I don’t know, but that was the night when I was free from fleas and even in the beginning of a nightmare I told to myself – this time there will be no violence in my dream. And there wasn’t.

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