Maachhyagaau

I’m alive - our internet has been completely on the fritz. Currently we get a signal for five minutes at a time during little surprise surges from the magic internet gods. Suffice to say, if you’re reading this, you have just witnessed a miracle.

Yesterday we went to Maachyagaau - a small village just a quick drive up towards the mountains south of Kirtipur. After waiting at the bus stop for far too long (busses here are actually white, unmarked vans with small children dangling off the sides to collect money at each stop), our language teachers snuck off to return in a small, rickety blue van/bus/car thingy. It was awesome - the gas tank is actually a large ceramic cylinder tied under the seats. Let me also just preface with this quick note: our language teachers are absolute BALLERS. Not only can I read in Nepali and speak quite decently now (after only 3 weeks thank you very much), but they also might just be the three chillest ladies of all time. Anajala-ji is the ring leader who tells us about her nightmares involving black cats and cockroaches; Sunita-ji is the kindest, most organized woman ever and finally Sarita-ji is somewhere between the two with a badass intensity that makes you think she was a fullback or Hilary Clinton in a previous life.

This small trip was a substitute for language class - we were supposed to conduct solo interviews with random strangers in Nepali in this small isolated village where “bideshi” (foreigners) are a rare sight indeed. In the ride up, our taxi driver quickly established himself as Joanne’s (aka Thulo didi or big sister) bhai (little brother) and almost hit 3 dogs, 2 children, 4 fruit stands and 1 cow. On the clearest day we have had yet, we stepped out and saw the entire Lantang range complete with snowcapped Himalayas to the north and green hills behind us. Quickly the teachers ushered us up a hill and began distributing us out to families like leaflets - “wahaa Ameriki bidhyaarti ho” (she is an American student)... “Nepali bhaasaa” (Nepali language) was about all I understood. (My new favorite phrase is “ma akaamaaka chhu” or “I am confused.”) First Jon left, then Melanie and then we came across an old woman who sounded like she had started smoking in the womb. Knowing an absolute badass when I see one, I jumped forward and soon we began talking (me smiling and nodding) about how expensive lentils are, her sons who work in Saudi Arabia and her dog “Sweetie.” Honestly I understood only about 10%, but I did get that she invited me in for chiyaa about 12 times and there is no way to mistranslate a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek after jumping into a woman’s life for only ten minutes.

My second interview was with a man who owned a small “pasal” drugstore and sported a Yankees cap (so I knew we’d have something to talk about.) Turns out, we had more than something - he had worked for the Nepali army with the United Nations and had been shipped to Haiti four years ago to work as a “shooter” in Port au Prince. 10 minutes later he promised me that he and his family would gladly host me anytime and that the hat was as good as burned. His daughter was perhaps the sweetest thing on two legs and according to him, my Nepali is “dherai ramro” (very good - and a huge lie.) It still blows my mind that these people offer so much to near strangers when living with so little material wealth and no promise of any return. Maybe it’s the mountains or maybe they put something in the chiyaa, but through my research I am hoping to learn enough to find a way to give something concrete back to those who have and will help me in the next 3-4 months.

Finally, Guman (one of the Nepali students in the program) now calls us his “rangichangi momoharu” which means “colorful/crazy dumplings” (FYI momos will change your life; John says they could solve world hunger and create world peace at the same time.) This is the same kid who used to interrupt stories about drunken evenings at college with a political discussion on caste. Oh the glories of American culture exposure. I’m so proud.