Research and Revolutions

And we're back... research was called off early on account of the now indefinite national strike declared by the Maoist party. They are demanding the PM to step down to form a new government, even though they hold the majority in the current Congressional Assembly and, for the sake of their "people's movement," have forced thousands from their homes in the villages to demonstrate in the capital where many have now gotten diarrhea or worse, business owners are forced to close shop indefinitely (or pay the Maoists and lose more than from closure alone) and farmers from the poorest regions are forced to abandon their produce because nothing is moving in the capital. As the current government provides free medical care and transportation to those worst affected, the Maoists blindly carry on, demanding a new democratic leader through entirely undemocratic and hypocritical means. So you see where my allegiances lie.

On our end, the strike means nothing more than a strict confinement to Kirtipur, fewer fruits and vegetables available, and a more careful rationing of water. Best of all, with no cars, trucks or motorbikes about, Kirtipur is quite beautiful. I can smell the flowers that have bloomed with the recent rains and my boogers might just stay their natural color.

Now about research... with it being called off early, I didn't accomplish nearly as much as I would have liked. We traveled along the major Annapurna trek, staying in two villages along the way before clambering over the Thorung La Pass which stands a little over 17,000 ft above sea level. Let me just clarify - there is NO oxygen up there, but it sure is perdy. In the end, I learned far more about my own capabilities than anything about domestic water usage in Manang. My research assistant and I took some getting used to one another, considering he was far more taken with trekking than actually performing research for an extended period of time. And yet it was this extended stay, relatively alone in a foreign country with a foreign language, that got to me most. My 2.5 weeks in Manang were more emotionally (and ultimately physically) demanding than anything I've ever done before. The more time passes, the more I can put aside the discomforts and disappointments I experienced, and appreciate what I actually learned in the process. The best way I can describe it is from something I wrote in my journal a few nights after I got back:

"As the days go by, I'm able to look back at my research as a valuable lesson - a short stint that took me away from my security blankets (while still leaving many intact) for the first time, challenging my own maturity and self-value. I have some regrets (though I promised myself I never would,) and yet it is this very philosophy - a strict adherence to moral and active excellence - that for the first time was sharply called into question. I cannot possibly expect perfection - I see now perfection is painfully impossible - but in fact those chance imperfections, the unexpected and fortuitous, may be the most beautiful, particularly if I am open and flexible enough to consider what lies in the delayed, tabooed or simply simple and unremarkable. Achievement is not success alone - happiness likewise is not measured in achievement. Not even measured but experienced, relished and enjoyed. Those (sometimes hellish) weeks became so valuable in all the ways I would have never imagined - not in 1,000 years or more."

Hi Ho... It's off to Manang We Go!

In case the cheerful title didn't tip you off, I couldn't help but hum this song as I walked back from daal bhaat today.

"Oh what a beautiful MOOOORning, Oh what a beautiful day. I've got a wonderful feelING, EVERYthing's GOing my way."

Since Joanne is off on her internships, Mel, Jon and I have had one-on-one language classes. In class this morning, Sunitaji threw around the word "fluent" a couple times which just about sent my spirits through the roof. It felt GREAT to just talk in a completely different language... write sentences off the cuff in a completely different language. A notable part of our discussion: after talking about Jon going off to Chitwan (in the hot, lower area of the Tarai) to research an indigenous Chepang community, Sunitaji said "dherai pichhaDhiedko jaati" which means "a very backwards group of people." I've heard this word "backwards" thrown around a lot, always meaning "undeveloped." People with "bikas" (development) are, according to Sunitaji (and many other Nepalis I've talked with), the higher castes and people who live in the city. And so the backwards people must develop, through government aid, to become unbackward and have access to "facilities." (America is always a land where you can find "dherai facility"). This entire philosophy seemed to me incredibly misinformed - after all, aren't the "unbackwards" people of Kathmandu already wading through their own garbage and sewage, weaving through deadly traffic, and generally suffering under the government's inability to provide for the ever-increasing urban population? Is this bikas? Is this not backward?

Back to the beautiful morning... I met with my advisor who frankly is an omnipotent god of generosity and resources. He comes skipping down the hall in his Santa Claus pot belly and Nepali topi (hat) and, in a mere 30 minutes of huddling round a map and several textbooks, allays every fear and anxiety I had about my upcoming month of independent research. He's like the Indiana Jones of Nepal, bumbling and adorable where Harrison Ford of course was the epitome of suave and debonair. I finally got to speak with a great friend last night, and Kirtipur looks more beautiful every day since I know I will be leaving soon. Finding out that after a second try, I am finally a Udall Scholar (a scholarship I've been agonizing over) is simply a cherry on top of an already delicious sundae, a small push forward to say everything you've done is just thik chha (good.)

So what is my research about exactly? Good frikkin question... Here's what I have so far:

I will be living/trekking for a month in Manang District in northern Nepal at elevations of 3 - 5000 meters. There I will look at water issues and climate change, probably comparing water scarcity in two villages: one that relies on glaciers in the south and another that relies on glaciers in the north (glaciers in the south are much larger and less likely to disappear, but they are less reliable.) I have one research assistant/translator who will help me conduct interviews with women, religious figures, farmers, community leaders and trans-Himalayan herders. It takes about 4 or 5 days to reach Manang since I have to trek most of the way - poor me, slowly lumbering through mountain valleys in the shadow of Himalayan glaciers, finally clearing my nose (the pollution has turned my bogies black) with alpine breezes. It should be nothing short of gorgeous, an excuse to trek again under an academic banner. Then I come back, stay in Kirtipur for 10 days, and fly home!

I likely won't have internet access during my month in Manang. If you're skypeable, maybe we can chat before then! (hperls123.) Emails of course are also welcome, provided you include a joke or two (if you can find a way to attach a slice of pizza, that would fantastic.)

Trekking!

And we're back...

Trekking was glorious. Chitwan was hot as hell (no exaggeration there) and despite all the build-up to my elephant excursion, I was uncomfortable riding these creatures that should be lumbering along under their own volition rather than under the whip and yells of a trainer. Worse yet was the realization that I was paying for it. Once we left Chitwan however, the days were blissfully filled with early breakfasts in the shadows of snow-capped peaks, exhausting hours bearing our packs up stairs, through jungle and along the crevasses between valleys and finally dinner, made all the more delicious after 5 or 6 hours of hiking. Though in Spring the farthest mountains are clouded in fog, I have never seen more rhododendrons in my life! The knobbly trees covered in bright green folds of moss, practically falling over under the weight of bright pink, red, and white flowers - I felt like the princess in a fairy tale or Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream (I told Melanie the same thing, and promptly received her now practiced "you are such a geek" look.)

At the different stops along the way, we ran into the best breed of tourists - mostly Europeans from Sweden, the Netherlands, France and Germany. We received many a strange look as Nepalis and Americans (speaking in Nepali!) dueled over never-ending card games and endless plates of french fries. I realized what a difference it makes to be able to speak in Nepali (thank you language teachers!) Our porters were fantastic and so nice, but without any language we would simply have been client and employee rather than the fast friends we became. It might have helped that I was an American girl and they were all Nepali boys my age, but we'll ignore that for now. Our last night we celebrated with some home-made "alcohol" (the Americans couldn't feel a thing) and plenty of Nepali dance, laughter and finally exhaustion under a bright moon. As relics of our tour, I have returned with an enviable farmer's tan, the knees of a 60-year old man and a serious distaste for classes, the polluted streets of Kathmandu and days filled with sitting on my ass.

In the midst of my post-trek depression, it's nice to feel a larger system of order coming into place. Completely unbeknownst to me three years ago, Columbia seems to be THE place for climate research, be it entirely theoretical, anthropological or empirical. At first I feared branching into this new anthropological field would open a Pandora's Box of unknown names, terms and theories. Instead, I see names I know (personally!) and ideas of indigenous climate justice I've always felt but could never articulate. One article cites Ben Orlove... I know him! Another cites Agrawala again and again... wait, my mentor co-authored a paper with him and now he's drafting OECD development reports for the Nepalese government! These incredible resources just seem to fall into my lap, coinciding with an incredible month-long excursion in one of the most beautiful mountain areas in the world. I'm practically counting the days when I can head off and not only discover the limits of my own independence, but leave behind the structures and regimentation of CNSP.

Updates

1. I invested in a 65 cent haircut.

2. Trekking (though initially off the burner because of strikes on the trekking routes) is now back on again! We will definitely be going to Chitwan and Pokhara which includes all things elephants. Then hopefully we'll be allowed on the trekking routes for 5/6 days of 7 hours of hiking in the mountains!

3. Banu seems to be doing better. Her husband has stayed in the States while she is here, but she is now eating and talking a bit. We will be visiting her again this afternoon.

4. St. Patty's Day with the ex-pats last night at the "Manang Celtic Pub." Very entertaining and miracles of miracles everyone speaks English. Mel desperately wanted to stay out but Jon more desperately needed to finish his already way overdue 10 page paper. We cracked a deal and promised to stay out tonight since tomorrow and the week after that is officially off limits. The repeat offense is largely in response to the general "High School" aura that hangs around the walls of CNSP - not the catty, crappy parts, but certainly the curfewed, highly scheduled, this is definitely NOT college part.

5. I, the poster child of contact sports and "yoga is for woosies" T-Shirts, have completed 6 full sun salutations. I now wear that really cheeky, please-with-yourself grin a lot. It really completes my overall ensemble and goes really well with the haircut.

A Death in the Family

Our daily rhythms are all shaken up. Yesterday Banu, the director of our program, received a call from the States telling her that her son had been killed in an accident. Between 10 and 11 am when I had hunkered down alone in the library, everyone changed. I didn't understand what I was supposed to do or say - loss seems to fill up a space and only leave this empty haze. Without any idea who this man was, or what it could possibly feel like to outlive your own child, I was stuck. I felt nothing - I just wanted to keep living like it never happened. But everyone else just looked through things. Smiling, joking or talking felt like a sin, a sign of disrespect for the soul I never knew. For that first day, all I wanted was to hide in my room until everyone could forget about it.

I have no idea what death is like. Uncle Klaus was the closest thing, and I still don't believe he's really gone. We visited so seldom that he might as well still be sitting in Westchester, staring out the window through clouded cataracts with his pump-up Nike kicks and hospital gown. Denial is a powerful thing, and generally I just keep building up that wall until something brings it all crashing down. We visited Banu today (in Nepal when someone dies, you just show up at the family's house as soon as possible.) I walked into Banu's bedroom and found at least ten people sitting along the walls and on the bed in mutual silence, all sucking in the same weighted air. It was like meditation curled up on the edge of that bed, not knowing who or what to look at, whether to smile or even if I could get up to go to the bathroom. I sat there, through the hugs and the crying and the silence. At some point, I found myself sitting next to Banu, this powerful woman reduced to a silent mound with eyes that said it was alright if she never smiled again. Suddenly her head was on my shoulder with shaking sobs that tore the air from my lungs. All I could do was sit there stroking her hair as tears welled in my eyes for reasons I still cannot explain. Here I was, curled around the woman who always took care of me, who was supposed to have all the answers. Walking out was like slowly wading out of a bog - it took several minutes to realize I was out, then to find my voice, and finally to look at anything but the ground.

There is no proper conclusion here - I don't think there can be - except that after leaving that house, everyone in the program seemed to breathe a little easier as if we were able to leave our baggage behind and move on. We paid our respects and now it was time to appreciate the lives we had, even if others could not.

Hum dee Dum

In an attempt to preclude any parental complaints, this is officially the pre-trekking time filler.

Melanie and Jon have officially become Nepalese (aka they're sick), skipping two meals each and our planned evening outing to attend salsa night at a bar in Kathmandu. We will have to save that incredible oximoron for another evening and just enjoy the many possible and amusing scenarios that could have been.

In other news, I am no longer bed bound though of course it's not that simple. The incredible pharmacy my father equipped me with has turned into more of a shopping list than a safety net. Moving on from the stomach, having exhausted all possible options, we now move on to the right eye which has taken on an interesting reddish hue and itches like the chicken pox. Though I never did quite learn to put on eye liner, I am getting VERY good with this gelly clear goo that has a similar application and clouds your vision for a bit. I'm hoping later for a showdown between Erthromycin Ophthalmic ointment and beer goggles.

Note: Parentals - I am FINE (thanks to your incredible ability to predict my medical future.)

Just as my Columbian peers head off to Spring Break, we are entering our own version of midterm week. One paper, one quiz, one research proposal, several homeworks and a lot of Gilmore Girls episodes officially complete (don't ask.) Now I just have that 15 page paper to finish (or start, depending on your perspective) plus finalizing my research plans (think literature review without internet or motivation) and IRB stuff. Plus sick people. Plus confined quarters. Thankfully my roomie went into Kathmandu tonight to visit her new husband (she got married by the way... did I mention that?) which means I can hold my own private rock concert/dance party. Truly the workload gives me zero rights to complain as compared to my normal semester of sedentary studying (I enjoy alliteration... deal with it) but it's still weird to go from a homestay where I climb mountains and milk goats to sitting, staring, sleeping, eating and generally not moving. I could jog, but let's not get carried away. And I still can't seem to get past those looks of "wait a tic! that's a white girl! she's running... and nothing is chasing her. what a strange girl. maybe if we look a bit longer... yes over the shoulder is good... we'll know why."

So yes... trekking. Lots and lots of trekking. We leave January 20th and arrive in Chitwan National Park. There are elephants involved including riding them, bathing with them (they're trained to throw you in the river) and visiting the breeding center. Jungle walks with rhinos and something called a stick dance. Kayaking or swimming or canoeing... there's a lake involved. A CLEAN one! That's a large body of water that isn't filled with sewage, smells of sewage or potentially sources the local butcher! Through the 28th we climb mountains (ahem... the Himalayas to be precise) for 6-7 hours a day with rice and lentils, rice and lentils and chiyaa. If you care for the short version, I will be in heaven. I never was sure if heaven really existed, but now I'm sure. And we haven't even left yet. OH MY GOD I'M SO EXCITED.

Anyway back to my desk and my sleeping bag and that slow feeling of leg muscles disintegrating. Also to address a past complaint, an anonymous reader questioned the meaning of baller. Oops - my choice collection of slang words ranges from middle school where I was just bored and college where we're just strange. A baller is... someone really really awesome? Somehow it's sourced from the NBA and that strange swishing motion people make to look cool, but I just like the word because it starts with a strong consonant and Nick gets embarrassed when I say it in public. Love you brother dearest.

Keep the emails coming (again parents, I'm fine. The eye is fine and getting better.) and I will try and finagle pictures post-trekking, I PROMISE. Until then, enjoy all the Spring Breaking (no limbs please!) and try not to be too incredibly jealous of me (though a little green I hear is good for the complexion.)

Cheerio,

HP

Mannegau

Sorry for the delay. I had to first conquer nausea from hell and then a degenerated computer battery to finally reload several times and get the blogspot gods to hear my plea. Not that I'm religious but with my stomach getting less suicidal (thank you Pepto Bismol) and a charged computer, things are looking up.

We returned from Mannegau the day before yesterday after the bumpiest, chunkiest, ker-THUMPiest ride home. Imagine a dirt road complete with dents and boulders just two inches wider than your rickety vehicle, then throw in some 180 degree turns and slant it down at 25 degrees. Over five hours. So yeah, yesterday was more of a bedridden neverending parade of sailor swears at my stomach which apparently has ears and does not appreciate my dirty mouth.

I will do my best to repaint our homestay. It will be long so if you care to back out now, I promise not to hunt you down later.

We arrived in the bus at the town below Mannegau and began to hike up and up, over bridges and a surging blue river (the first blue river I have seen since arriving here) and then oodles of stairs. Very sweaty, but very satisfying. We show up smelling like roses and the leading women's group of the village serves us tea and then we are distributed to our host families. My Didi (older sister) Malati (her name) brought me to their home across from the main road and store where I walked past a chicken coop, the central water tap, a huge buffalo and a 3 day old goat who for some reason found my pants very interesting. The first night was, well, awkward. I was babysat for a few hours by the grandmother and grandfather. Lots of smiling and nodding without a prayer of understanding rapid Nepali or Tamang (it's not a good sign that I couldn't tell which language they were speaking.) I was given a bed in the TV room (with what I think was the nicest mattress the family owned) while Didi slept in the bed next to me. That first night she found out that my parents were doctors and immediately asked if I had any medicine for the discolorations under her eyes. Whenever I tried to write something in my journal, it usually ended up being a language lesson with whomever was around - everyone was so curious to see writing in English, and the older women always wanted me to write their names first in Devnagari, then in English, and then in my slanted, cursive mess.

Things got easier with my family. At first I was worried they would get exhausted with my constant "bujhina" (I did not understand) or "ke ho" (what's that?), but then it became more of a joke than anything else. I was the adorable, clueless house pet rather than the awkward visitor from abroad. It took me a long time to notice the lack of anything (mirrors, indoor plumbing, chairs, chimneys etc.) simply because Didi made it look so easy. I had imagined coming in that, during our mini-research projects, I would come in and "fix" something. But when I arrived, I couldn't find that something to fix. Water was flowing, they produced their own crops and purchased only spices, tea and other occasional odds and ends. The kids walked two hours to school in the morning while Didi prepared more rice, dhaal and vegetable curry than I ever hope to eat again. The morning I finally ate with my hands instead of a spoon, my Didi and her husband looked at me as if I had just said my first words.

Let me also just take a moment of silence for the public shower. It was AMAZING. If heaven exists, it was in that shower. There is a large public tap down the mountain that looks out on green terraced fields and mountains on all sides. The water is cool and clean (at least to the eye) and was the first time I have been slightly able to satisfy my incredible craving to go swimming. After getting clean as a whistle in our lungis (the coverings we had to wear cause the shower was, well, public) we got to air dry in the mountain breezes. Very very noice.

I marked my progression in Mannegau from discouraged to ecstatic by the small moments when I felt myself being actually useful. I helped Didi with the goats, then washed my dishes, poured my own chiyaa, helped peel vegetables and then graduated to even asking for seconds at meals (BIG deal.) For my mini-research, though I had planned initially to study water usage, I found the most efficient way to do this was actually to record the history of the women's group. When I asked where the water came from, all I got was "below." But the women's group was the group responsible for installing the main water taps and handling political/infrastructural disputes within the village. With Kavita as a translator, I met with six older women who told me how Educate the Children (an NGO) came in and first formed the group. With the support of only two men, they built the current building they now work in completely by themselves, collecting monthly donations of 5, then 10 Rupees (about 1 or 2 cents.) They lend money to impoverished women with low interest, they are working on local education and just generally kick some major ass. (Plus make a mean roti.)

Within the family, I was able to joke my way into my own little niche. Didi and I talked under the stars about going to the moon. My bahini (little sister) Rima gave me a makeover every other morning, never failing to say my hair was like "gundruk" (dried vegetables that smell funny.) Over dinner, we shared dance moves with my bahini and bhai (little brother) dancing a little Nepali and me pulling out some Saturday Night Fever. I taught them some shadow puppets and how to snap your fingers; they taught me to milk a goat and make Nepali chiyaa (tea.) On the last night during our large party (complete with large amounts of raksi - alcohol) we danced and sang and I was hugged so fiercely I started to scrunch my shoulders in anticipation whenever an older woman approached me. The raksi may have helped (though the Americans certainly held their own while some anonymous Nepali students quickly went under) but for the first time I was the first to jump on the dance floor without inhibitions or embarrassment. It was simply fun.

Now we're back, I have consumed one peanut butter sandwich in the past 24 hours and there's a paper due tomorrow. It's strange to jump from one world to the other, and Mannegau feels incredibly far away. I will send my host-family photos though it may take two months to actually reach them.

I also may have forgotten, but did I mention we go trekking for 10 days starting on the 20th?! Hell to the yes! (This trekking includes riding me some elephants! Wahoo!) I also might have finalized a location for my independent research project: Manang, a mountainous area and common trekking intersect for tourists going through the Annapurna range. There is a glacier there that feeds into a lake and may require a few days of hiking to reach. I still hope to study domestic water usage and climate change though it's always up for revision.

Did you make it to the end? You must be some kind of superhero. Congratulations and keep following if you have the stamina.