Heading to the Country

Hello all,

Many updates from the end of pre-service training, many changes afoot! In Kathmandu for the last few days (yesterday was swearing in! the official tradition from trainee to volunteer!) and tomorrow off to Parbat, where I will settle into my community for the next two years. Yow.

The end of my time in Panauti was a bit of a whirlwind. Between finishing up language classes and trainings, saying goodbye to community members, building an improved cook stove out of adobe in my host families house (no more smoke inhalation please!) and jumping through other Peace Corps hoops, the last few weeks were full of activity. A few scenes...

One evening at dinner my didi dished up what soon became notoriously known as "hamro bhaat" or "our bhaat" - referring literally to rice grown in our terraced fields, a ten minute walk from our home. My didi didn't tell me that she was preparing this specially for dinner, but upon digging in, it became very clear, these grains were a far cry from the India imported staple we normally enjoyed. Indeed, hamro bhaat was short and fat grained, sweet and chewy. It was, quite frankly, scrumptious. I noticed the change immediatly, my didi beaming at my now nuanced taste for rice. I didn't think much of this change in our twice daily staple grain until I realized it coincided exactly with the first day of the rice plant in our families' field. With what joy I then realized I had a free afternoon from training, and would be able to participate in the planting of our fields with neighbors and relatives - a so called "mela" (literally, festival, but functionally work party - group of women who go rotationally week by week go to each other's fields during this season to plant rice. The person whose field it is brings the tea and snacks). What a scene it was. All of us, barefoot, in the sloppy mud, holding rice starts in the left hand, pushing them into the saturated mud with the right hand, me slowly and sloppily attempting to keep up with my practiced peers, feeling the familiar ache in the lower back from hours of hunched over farm work, looking up occasionally - peering at the layers and layers of bright green terraced land cascading down the hillside. We broke for tea, and after another few hours an afternoon storm rolled in, (the monsoon is upon us! Bring on the barsha (rain!) Within minutes we frantically finishing the planting, packed up and headed out, me slipping my way along the paths between the fields, listening to the sound of thunder, and the mostly comprehensible Nepali chatter of my friends and sisters in the field. Hamro bhaat! So many new layers of appreciation for this crop, seeing (if even for one afternoon of planting) the work and time spent in its sewing. I hope to return a few months from now to see and participate in the harvest.

My last day with my didi culminated in a very sweet scene in our home, an impromptu photo shoot that turned into what I can only describe as gathering of gaggling girls, a veritable bastion of femininity...My didi had been threatening to dress me up in her sari from the first week I got to the house, but her non-stop work schedule and the sheer fact of utter exhaustion at the end of each day in the fields prevented this threat from ever becoming a reality. Until of course, the last day, in which I was swathed in fabric, made up in mascara, bindi bejeweled and made to pose for an hour or so - at one point even veiled in the gauzy red fabric used for new Nepali brides on their wedding nights. It did not take long for the neighboring girls to find out this was happening in my house, and soon the room was filled with neighbors and friends - women with whom I had gotten to know in the last months, all fawning over me, snatching the smart phone and snapping away. My face hurt from smiling so much...the whole experience a celebration of the divine feminine - my mind grasping to integrate the Nepali woman's incredible and unflappable spirit (her never-ending workload which is often not even considered true work because of her subordinate role in society and in the eyes of her husband) and her outward expression of this spirit (colors and jewels, and cloth and gold, penciled eyes and red lips). In rare moments have I ever felt as held by the collective feminine as I did then, made up as a model Nepali bride.

So many more scenes to describe and so little time! And I have not even arrived to my permanent site yet! I am now on the precipice of what will soon become my daily life for the next two years. Eight hours of bus riding await tomorrow, then meetings with government counterparts in the district capital of Parbat, then going to my site by June 14th to meet my new family, and mark out my new routines. I suspect the next 3 months will consist of many, many cups of teas with neighbors (an indispensable staple of Nepali hospitality) working on a little garden at my host families house (to establish myself as a volunteer with ag. experience and interest) and maybe a few other projects I have been dreaming on (school mural anyone? I may require some cross continental communication with Miles for this one!) We will see how it all comes together. I am stoked. There are changes afoot, literally in my new home ahead, but also within my mental space. Too much to expound upon in depth here, but fully far out in nature and kind. Learning! Learning at every step. I am so grateful to be able to stay connected to loved ones while all these changes are taking place. Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the friends who have written me their wise words from afar, your updates are seriously savored and I encourage you to write again when you have the time. I am unsure when the next chance to write will be, but I will likely be able to check my email occasionally, so please do drop a line if you are inspired.

With so much love,

Aja/Jaya (my Nepali name!)

#Family #Kathmandu