Date: Sat, 28 Oct 2000 08:50:49 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jay Schneider
Subject: Jack is Back!
And so, dear readers, let us move right along as I summarize my time faster than a speeding yak, and leap 2 weeks in a single bound…
Namely, my two-week volunteer work camp. 7 volunteers, 2 German, 2 French (again with the French!), 2 Canadians (one English, one French) and I our Nepali camp leader left Kathmandu aboard one of the many fine metallic buses painted with various slogans in various colors (or colours, if your prefer). I noticed while on ours was painted “Happy Journey,” a neighboring vehicle read “Good Luck”. At the time I wondered which was better.
Barreling along the very narrow, and very winding roads, next to very steep and very high drops into nothing, the bus carrying my very precious body seemed determined to give us our money’s worth. The act of passing on blind corners (again, next to those very steep and very high drops into nothing) was certainly not just a bad habit of our driver, but apparently the custom of the land (along with honking the musical horn as often as possible and for no discernable good reason), as on several occasions we came around those already mentioned blind corners and came face to face with two on-coming buses (one the passer, the other the passee). Don’t worry, on each instance, plenty of horns were blown, so it all seemed to be on the up and up.
At one major junction, the bus picked up a large number of passengers, and the bus filled so newcomers had to stand. As many of the people boarding the bus seemed more in need of seats than us, we all had thoughts of offering our seats. Our camp leader, half a step ahead of the game turned to me and asked, “Do you want to go on the roof?” I knew he wasn’t joking because I had seen other busses filled to the brim, and on top sat happy Nepali (and a few goats). Before anyone could answer, I think I was already half-way up the side of the bus an securing a good spot on the luggage above.
MAN, OH MAN, WHAT A RIDE! It’s the only way to go! The sky was clear, the views were spectacular, and as long as someone was on branch and low-hanging wire duty (yelling “duck!”), life was never better. I realized how nice it is to ride in the open, and thought back to my choice to ride on top of the boat in Cambodia. Thinking of boats, I remembered my summers sailing in Southern California. In the races, we often had to dangle our legs over the edge of the boat. I remembered this and advised my co-passengers to do the same, hopefully keeping the bus upright at every hair-pin corner.
Suddenly, the bus stopped (some hours had passed) in the middle the road, and seemingly, in the middle of nowhere. There being nothing distinguishing about this stretch of road from any other bit ahead or behind, I assumed in must be a pee break. Then our guide informed us, “this is the bus stop. We get off here.” Well, of course… And so after a 20 minute hike up (and I mean UP) the mountain, we arrived at our home for the next two weeks. We lived with a family of 13 (four generations represented). There was a separate loft next to the house, large enough for 7 of us, plus 2 Nepali leaders to sleep. Below, we would cook our own meals (more of that to come). On the other side below us, the goats spend their days. By the way, October hosts one of the largest and most important festivals in Nepal, the Dasain festival. The whole of Nepal celebrates, and at the height of the celebration, one of the brothers of the family told me while I admired my new flea-covered neighbors, they would sacrifice a goat. I’m going to say that again. They would sacrifice a goat. As fate would have it, the camp would be well over, and we’d miss the event. “Don’t worry,” the brother consoled us,” goats all over Nepal will be sacrificed. I’m sure you won’t miss it.”
The house overlooked a valley, and we had fine views of terraced rice-fields behind which stood the largest mountains I had seen to date. We were just on the cusp of the Annapurna Mountain range.
Our project was to help begin construction of a water tank (future career: plumber?)which would serve 12 families. This was phase one, so our job was simply to begin the process which future work camps would continue. First we needed to make a flat area, and for those of you who don’t know, flat is something Nepal lacks. We dug for three days alongside the villagers making a large flat area in the side of a steep mountain. In the following days, because we needed many stones, we collected many stones. We walked up the hill, picked up one or two stones, and carried them down the hill. Repeat, over and over again. In the final days, we cleared the trail, and path, widening it, smoothing it, and destroying large boulders which impeded movement (future career: road builder?). Smashing large boulders is really fun, by the way. If you have the means, I highly recommend it as a stress reliever.
All in all, the work was hard, physical labor, and it was exhausting. The locals laughed at the funny foreigners who sweat constantly (the Nepali never seemed to perspire), constantly drank water (boiled or treated at that), and were so strange to take a break in the middle of the day to eat lunch (the Nepali ate in the morning, and then at night). While we felt a little silly that we were so challenged by tasks which the local children and housewives were performing with ease, I realized that this kind of work was a way of life for these people. I’m sure if our roles were reversed, and the Nepali were forced to sit on their asses, watching t.v. and eating potato chips for two weeks straight, they would perform pretty lousy at that.
But it wasn’t all hard labor (though at times I thought this was the kind of stuff prison camps do). Every 10 minutes or so, suddenly a big discussion would erupt amongst the villagers, and everybody had something to say (or yell) about everything. Even the passers-by from neighboring villages taking their buffalo to the river had to put their two-cents in. The volunteers, not understanding a word, just stood around trying not to look too stupid, thankful for a break in the action. Sometimes, the rain, too, would give us relief. After doing a lot of digging, the showers came down creating one giant mud pit. I was tempted to entertain the crowd with my magnificent mud tricks, but as not motorcycles were present, and my flip-flops were back at home, we all just went inside and had tea.
We also had two “free days” and on both occasions I was able to (after walking long distances over very unflat land) stay with Nepali families. I also had the chance to visit some local schools. After a lot of work, but mostly good times (oh yeah, I got sick, had a fever, and lots of other bad things happened physically), our two weeks finally came to an end. For our final night, we invited all the families over and give a show, followed by some dancing and general merriment. For reasons I still can’t comprehend, we sang “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” in French and English, a Beatles song, some Nepali folk song we learned and for our show-stopper, a little ditty I had composed (perhaps in my sick state of delirium, I don’t remember) in praise of our food.
So I’ll leave you, as we left them, with my very own “Dal Bhat Ditty”
explanation: Dhal Bat, is traditional Nepali food. It’s pretty much all there is in Nepal. It’s rice and lentils, but often vegetables and maybe pickles go with it. It’s food in a generic sense, and it’s perfect not when you want something special, but when you’re hungry and you just want…FOOD. Though we got creative on a few occasions and changed the menu, at least one meal of every day (though usually two) was Dal Bhat.
1-2, 1-2-3-4…. (I’m hearing folk-guitar, are you?)
Dal Bhat in the morning,
Dal Bhat in the evening,
Dal Bhat in the afternoon.
To eat your rice and lentils
You don’t need a knife, fork, or spoon.
Eat it with your right hand,
Never with the left hand,
This is rule number one.
‘Cause the right hand is for eatin’
And the left is for when you’re done.
(and I’m singin’ ’bout)
DAL BHAT! — don’t you know I love you
DAL BHAT! — can’t eat enough of you
DAL BHAT! — you will always be my NUM – BER – ONE!
DAL BHAT! — everybody say it!
DAL BHAT! — every meal I pray it’s
DAL BHAT! — and now this song is DONE – DONE – DONE
Thank you and good night!
Jay “future career: street performer” Schneider