VIP status

The other day I was invited to a very exclusive Puja (or worship ceremony). Only men were allowed and only men from a couple families. The person in charge decided that I was acceptable material for this puja and asked me to go along. The person who was in charge is the husband of the eldest of my younger sisters. I was very flattered that I was invited. We left the house around 7 AM and hiked for a good three hours until we got to a temple way, way up on the hillside. They had leashed a goat up, and we brought that along with us and when we arrived we killed the goat. I had been told that we were going to have lots of yummy food like vegetables, rice, and goat. We ended up having the rice and goat only. I am not a big goat meat fan though they prepare it very well. But if you are given a tire to eat there is only so much you can do to make it taste good. They cooked all the organs separate from the “what I would consider normal” meat, and I got a heaping plate of organs before they served up the other meat. I tried to resist, but they forced the plate on me so I took one bite of intestine and decided that it in fact tasted like intestine, which is where food is slowly turned into poop and therefore I think tastes remarkably like poop. I have a lot of trouble opening my mind when it comes to eating organs, and also I just truly do not like the taste of any of them. Anyways, after the first bite I sidled my way over to a corner and chucked the meat for the birds. Then came the meat course, and then the three hour walk back. I enjoyed the Puja the other week that served rice pudding more. Not only because of the food, but well, I’m not totally sure why. I think I just had a bad attitude about this one because I wasn’t feeling awesome; I was very, very hungry by the time we got to the temple as we left before breakfast and didn’t eat until 3 PM; and there was a serious lack of pretty Nepali girls which, in my opinion, is a must for any good celebration or ceremony. But it does mean a lot to me that they already accept me enough to invite me on such a sojourn.

Looking across the valley at another settlement

Man talk

The view from the temple (very nice!)

Rota-tiller

 

In other news, I helped stitch another kid’s forehead.  Almost the exact same wound as the first kid, uncanny really.  The kid came in later for a checkup and is now terrified of me.  As soon as he sees me he minimum starts crying and usually just starts screaming.  And I went to the government school.  This was a good time.  I taught English to 6^th, 8^th, 10^th grades and health to 6^th grade later in the day.  In English class I talked a lot about America and had very simple conversations like “What is your name?”  “Where do you live?” “Who is in your family?” etc.  The English at the government school is way behind the boarding school because at the boarding school all the subjects are taught in English except Nepali, and at the government school all the classes are taught in Nepali except English.  This is unfortunate because in order to get almost all higher level jobs in Nepal you have to be able to speak English fairly well.  (Also I find it humorous that when people here say “government” in English it comes out “gument” just like a good Murcan would say it).  I actually found it easier to teach 6^th grade than I did 10^th which is the opposite of what I was expecting.  This is due to the more conservative nature of Nepali society: kids here mentally mature a bit slower than in America.  This isn’t necessarily good or bad, but just different.  The 12 and 13 year old 6^th graders were all very engaged and interested and were quickly able to overcome the embarrassment of their poor English skills.  The 10^th graders were 15 to 18 years old, and the class, surprisingly, was probably 75% girls.  These 17 to 18 year old girls were just giggling wrecks.  I would ask a question and everyone would start giggling and when I’d turn to one side of the class a girl on the opposite side would murmur the answer and when I’d turn and ask the person who answered to repeat what they said because I didn’t quite understand or I wanted the whole class to hear she would just turn red, hide her face, and giggle.  The class turned out to be fairly productive, but not as much as the other grades.  In America I would expect the 6^th graders to giggle uncontrollably when a dangerously sexy man (self-description) walked into the room to teach, and the 18 year olds to hold it together a little better due to them being a bit more mature.  I still had a lot of fun though because I just enjoy teaching, and it was a good way to get face time with the kids in the community.

I also have become friends with one of the teachers at the gument school, and she asked a very surprising question today while we were walking back from the school: “Why can’t men give birth?”  I thought she was joking and was going to continue the joke a bit, but when I turned to look at her she was dead serious.  This young lady is very smart, but just has clearly had a serious lack of sex education.  I think she is 26, and is pushing 4 foot 3…literally.  She is probably the tiniest person I have ever met, and is also super rad.  I didn’t get too detailed with the answer as there were other people around and things like penises and vaginas are pretty taboo here.  I know she could handle the conversation one on one, but everyone else would be pretty weirded out.  So I just said that you need to have eggs to be fertilized and a uterus to carry the baby, and only women have those things so only they can give birth.  This was done in a Nepali/English mix because I definitely don’t know the Nepali for words like 'uterus.'  But good times.