Theraputic Hospitality



A community member takes you to see his house and meet his family. You walk past toppled stone houses. Navigate the meandering arrangement of tied-up goats and water buffalos. Duck to miss a low hanging tin roof under which the displaced family sleeps in between days of field work. You are asked to sit on a wood bench next to grandfather as the rest of the family sits on woven ground mats.

 



On the right, remains of mud and stone houses. On the left,
a maze of shanty shelters made of tin and low stone walls. 

Whatever tin cups owned by the family are taken out and filled with room-temperature curdled milk. It has large lumps of fat and a probably some stray water buffalo hairs. A smoky scent comes off of it from the fire it was at one time heated over. Taking all that in, you can feel the family watching as mother insists you take part.

This has been a typical experience. First, it's humbling to be offered anything by someone who's lost so much and still wants you to be comfortable at their expense. Then, you wonder just what will happen to your stomach. It might have been a tough decision at first, but I've seen how much it means to families and what it can do for the relationship. It can be subtle, but I often notice a tension dissolve and a relationship begin once hospitality is accepted.

 

Hospitality is foundational in a South Asian culture. The saying goes that 'Guest is god' and its a shameful thing to not bring honor to a guest. It can visibly tug at a host when they don't have what they normally have to offer a guest. When there are road blocks to addressing a root problem in community development, sometimes the best way to start a relationship is to accept that cup of milk and help a family feel like they are getting back to "normal". To a westerner, it's profound to think that accepting hospitality can actually soothe a family in a post-disaster setting.

 

 









Fuel Crisis at 2 months

Overloaded busses lumber by throughout
 the day as I work in villages

For many villagers who's only felt effect of the fuel crisis is public busses packed to double capacity, life in general isn't being affected too greatly. If they went to the valley to find hospital care they might be turned away due to low supplies.

Down in the Kathmandu Valley however, the situation is getting more dire. Few private vehicles are on the roads, schools have started discontinuing busses and closing, hospitals have delayed some surgeries and started turning people away due to low supplies. Electricity feels no worse than normal for lighting and some cooking while many city dwellers are cooking with wood. When rumors of LP gas or petrol deliveries come up, people camp out in lines where their car or home fuel canister may have been parked for days.

Here is a good article for understanding a bulk of the situation. It doesn't specify the grievances of the Madhesis towards the constitution, but it does show where international camps stand on it. I won't attempt to list their grievances exhaustively, but two major objections on the constitution are the clauses on a more or less secular state as well as stricter law on the citizenship requirements of individuals running for certain public offices.

Time- India and Nepal Have No Choice but to End Their Border Dispute and Move On
 

Hill Pickin'

I came overseas with a banjo just to have something to learn besides language, but it's ended up being something to connect with nationals over.

As I entered the field, a seasoned worker impressed on me that, 'If you don't learn the songs of the people, you to should be strung up for malpractice.' I've done what I can to pick up local songs to gather people around and to put myself in a position to learn from them. I've seen how being willing to learn is a good way to be given the privilege to speak into lives.

Here is a cellphone-recorded song that is very dear to the Nepali people. It doesn't carry a clear meaning in translation, but there are little bits of a love story, old proverbs, and being free-spirited. It's recognized as just an old song which families sing as they walk along.

Grease Monkeys

How many 10 year olds do you know who can work on
rebuilding a bike?

Ok, it looks like child labor, but maybe this is just how trade schools work here. The boys are third generation motorcycle mechanics and work under their dads. Their grandfather was one of the first bike mechanics in Nepal.

The story goes that when grandpa opened shop 70+ years ago he had to forge his own files and pliers. A homemade lathe even served in the shop. He worked on BSAs, Nortons, and a few BMWs. When it was something like a busted piston or cylinder he would cast the replacement using sand, mud, and his homemade foundry. I can imagine the boys' grandfather saying, "When I was your age..."
 

By God's Grace

Look closely! What appears to be the ground floor was
actually the 2nd floor before the first earthquake hit and the
school building sat down one floor. Amazingly, no one was
present at the time.

When people ask, "How bad is the damage there", I don't have words to describe the power that reduced so much to rubble. My default however, is to describe the grace which God had on the people of Nepal. If it were any other day of the week or any other time of day it is not a stretch to say the death toll would have been far beyond 100,000.

Saturday is Nepal's day of rest, where kids are not in school and most businesses are closed. The quake was in early afternoon so the majority of those in the hardest hit districts were out farming. Even more, the power was out so very few kids were inside watching TV or using electric lights.

 

Multiplying Temporary Shelters

 These are some photos of the first design of temporary housing we have been building with families. The buildings are stout enough to be protective in monsoon, but can easily be recycled into the roof of a new permanent house.
A huge advantage of this design is how is easily villages can catch on and make it their own.

Multiplication- On the first major build, our team demonstrated shelter #1 for all to see. For #2 and 3, our team split up and worked along with residents. Before #2 and 3 were done, I looked up the hill and people were starting numbers 4 and 5 without our help. The hardest part of the build ended up being to slow the families down and talk through where to put the shelter. We needed to walk them through the process of giving forethought and make the decision their own.



This is what the temporary shelters look like before the family
personalizes it with ends, door, floor, etc.

1 month update: As I have gone back to this village I've seen that roughly 95%
of the families have people sleeping in these shelters. This is well above the average rate I've seen with identical shelters done in other projects. I believe there is a significance here. Ownership forms when people take part in the decision process and share in the labor involved. Otherwise, these shelters might have just been "One more thing I'm told I need, but I wouldn't spend a personal dime on the idea."

Millet Season

The work here is about so much more than just building houses. People are working at rebuilding their lives. There's a quick snap shot that makes the news, but a deeper story too. Looking at the deeper story can mean the difference of just doing relief or taking it further to community development.

Short Story: these women are processing recently harvested millet where their house used to stand.

Longer Story: These families primarily grow corn and wheat for subsistence and some income. Some millet is also grown to make beer, either used as a carb-heavy energy drink or to sell and generate income to buy vegetables. This is a common way by which hill families obtain vegetables. It's not a stretch to think that a family could end up with three times the nutritious vegetables for less effort if they were to plant vegetable gardens and skip the process of cultivating millet, producing beer, and competing on a market.

Opposed to what you might think, it is very hard for a farmer to accept a gardening approach. There are a lot of barriers to modifying the tradition which has made proper nutrition tough here. And nobody can really fault the villagers. Fathers have relied on this strategy for a thousand years. Helping a family grow their own vegetables is one project we can implement if the right combination of need and teachable attitude comes up.

What did you just call me?

Spotted Owlet. Seen while visiting
in Rajasthan

In South Asia, the owl (Hindi word, "ooloo") is considered about as dumb as a donkey. Or at least the insult is about the same. Our wise nocturnal hunter is thought to be stupid for not even knowing when its time to sleep. Come on owls, get with the program.

So when it comes to haggling over a price and the vendor throws out an insulting price you can always say, "I am not an owl, brother".

Sap Season

Firstly, that's a whole quart of CT maple syrup that arrived with my parents last week. Yehaw.

As I explained maple syrup to a national I realized the process might sound similar to that of village moonshine. A plastic jug is hidden in the fronds of a palm tree just below a slit in a leaf stem. The jug collects juice that ferments in the hot sun. When a buyer shows up a boy shimmies up and brings down the hooch.

Caagage Wallah (The Paper One)

This is the youngest in a family of paper bag makers I have been spending time with. He is doing some of the finer work of making small white bags used in administering medicine. I am amazed that he can paste, fold, and press a stack of 50 in about 2 minutes. So many of the tradesmen here do their work with a flair of personality that wouldn't be there if they simply operated a machine.


One hand moves the stack like a flip-book while the other
 hand pokes precisely in between each sheet to fold a tab

I am also a welcomed guest to the boy's great-uncle. He only has two teeth and is pretty hard to understand, but a warmth comes through in our exchanges. I had already finished the chai served to me by the nephew one day when the elder showed up and asked if I had been served. Everyone present truthfully said, "Yes", but he insisted, "That's not true, get more chai!". Here, Uncle Ji's word is the last word. It's no wonder that I might sip 8 shots of chai in a day.


This is a new type of crowd I am learning from. There is little understanding of English in the labor class. So when my Hindi runs out, so does the conversation for the day. This forces me to push harder in building communication skills.

Cycle Repair

Not only are they great at what they do, but I think
they really enjoy their jobs. 

If there's anything South Asia knows how to fix, its motorcycles. That's most fitting since it sure knows how to damage them.

With a broken microwave, AC, fridge or washing machine you can either fix it yourself or count on a week or two of calling a repair man, being stood up, making a new date, getting stood up again, etc. But with motorcycles, that wallah immediately picks up your bike, does some great work, and gets it right back. And inexpensively!

Theoretically, one can have a bike taken apart, frame checked, engine case seal redone, handle bar unbent, forks and fender straightened, side-saddle foot rack pulled away from the suspension, break cable adjusted, and get a new rear shocker and rod for only $47.21. But that's just a rough guess based on a hypothetical mishap for which only South Asian cows could be held responsible.

The Maila Pilgrimage

My city is built on a peninsula between the confluence of two rivers. Every year millions of pilgrims come to wash at the holy spot where the rivers mix. Every twelve years comes a "Khumb Maila" with some added importance. The last Khumb Maila was 2 years ago and 70 Million people came!! So the Maila this year was relatively tiny.

I was still overwhelmed by how many people were there. To piece together the mythical history from multiple accounts is difficult as well as heart-breaking. I can't get into the whole story here, but it highlights why the common worshiper doesn't have a moral expectation of their gods, let alone other people mistreating them on earth. So they beg to a god who doesn't bless out of love, but out of being hasty and loosing a drop of nectar from heaven after stealing it from humans on earth.

Wedding Season Pt. 2

After 10 months in country, I was at last distantly acquainted enough to a family to be invited to a wedding celebration.

There are just too many details to cover here, and from just one first experience, but here are some interesting insights.

-The bride and groom arrive separately with their parties, and endure having their photo taken with every guest. 400 people at this wedding. At this point they are only 25% through the rituals of marriage. Almost all guests will leave after eating and before the marriage rituals get any further.

-In some families the bride will try to not smile in photos to show a sadness for leaving her family.

-The oath-taking rituals start around midnight and last up to two hours. But no honey moon yet, the bride stays two more days with her family to mourn her leaving.

-During the rituals,  both families sang satirical songs joking about the other family. Things along the lines of, "He'll eat so much bread and she'll have to make it every time"

-It was explained that a Hindu marriage is more of a joyous occasion for the parents, who are entering the last phase of life in a Hindu tradition. The bride and groom have the understanding, culturally, that marriage comes first, out of duty to family, then you work on being happy.


 

Shoddi Wallah- Wedding Season pt. 1

During the months deemed auspicious by Hindu astrologer priests, weddings are in full swing. Huge fireworks and loud drumming beats of passing wedding processions become the city's soundtrack from 7pm to 11 or so. For months...
It can get annoying, but a Hindu wedding is so involved once your participation gets beyond being serenaded by roaming noise parades.


This particular parade described in order of appearance:
-1 painted elephant with 3 riders
-A ten-year-old pyro-technician firing full mortar fireworks
- 1 decorated truck loaded with a wall of speakers. Pointing backwards
-A pile of groomsmen and friends dancing in styles I can not describe in terms of American dancing. Dancers are corralled by two columns of 7-foot-tall rolling chandeliers, strung together by electrical wires.
-Deceptively strong and persistent cousins who drag on-lookers in to the dancing. (I wouldn't know anything about that.)
-A full brass marching band, periodically tooting along with the dance music.
-The Groom, riding on a white horse, traditionally accompanied by a young boy.
-Photographers, everywhere.
-The "Caboose", a generator that powers the whole column of crazy. Picture a 500 pound generator mounted on a utility tricycle, pushed/pedaled by, as always, an 80 pound man.
**all the while, traffic continues to compete for the road.
 

One Who Fixes Axe (coulhari teek kerna wallah)

Blacksmithing: One more thing that can be done while
squatting

Lots of thing's fade into normal here, but a lot of the unique occupations remain interesting to me.
This man has a small black-smithing shop on the side of the road. In the picture he is sharpening an axe by beating the red-hot bit back into shape. To me, this is a small look at huge features of the culture.
A worker doesn't sharpen his own ax, because "There's a Wallah for that". The worker is just as happy to chop bricks with an axe and have a smith sharpen it rather than finding a better tool and saving the axe. While this sounds wrong, the right tool for the job is often not available or too expensive. This gets complicated when you think about wages and cost-of-living, but this is just a small look.  

Goats in Coats

The most dapper goat in town.

In this frigid  winter, a warm goat is a happy goat. Protecting a goat from the cold helps fend off disease as well as keeps them more productive. Usually I would build a 3-sided shelter, but locals just throw hand-me-downs on their street goats. I suspect its to keep them from complaining too much.

Speaking of goat bleating,  I was walking one day when I clearly heard, "Da-a-a-a-an" yelled in an alarmed tone. I turned around not knowing who it could be (I don't know, kid in need? Someone warning me of a camel stampede?) only to find it was a goat screaming while being carried as a passenger on a motorcycle. It's things like that which make me wonder if the culture is wearing on me.