Sex, Lies and Daal Bhaat

25/8/14

I have returned from my sojourn to KTM.  In fact, there is a possibility that I will be going back, in a month, for training about how to establish a library, at site-here’s hoping!

The KTM trip was complicated, from the start.  As some of you may have seen on the news, there have been massive floods and landslides in Northern India and Southern Nepal, over the last couple of weeks.  The day before I was to leave for KTM, this weather hit us.  There was torrential rain for 36 hours, the rivers swelling and the roads turning to mush.  I got up on Friday morning anticipating leaving on the regular 9:30 bus.  My family kept telling me that I shouldn’t go, but I though that they were just exaggerating.  Around 7am, despite the ridiculously bad cell reception, I managed to talk to my nearest neighbor, Ben.  In his village, part of the bridge had washed away and he’d be unable to leave his site.  That settled things, we were stuck.  It was a very bad day.  It was sad to see the three houses that had been washed away in the river, watching the dejected faces of the families thinking, I’m sure “what do we do, now?”  Knowing that there was no help from the Government coming, that the only help their equally hard-up neighbors could offer was help with the physical rebuild made me thankful for the (flawed) social safety net we have in America.  On a more selfish note, I wanted to leave, wanted to join my friends in KTM, wanted to run my first GAD meeting, the one that I’d been planning for months. 

Much to our relief, the rains stopped for just long enough for the water levels to lower to make travel possible.  7 am Saturday  morning, my Buba and I left our house for the 3-hour walk into Tulsipur.  We met Ben at the intersection, after an hour, and proceeded to trudge into town.  It wasn’t so bad, really just a strange adventure, although there was a rather deep, fast moving river that we had to cross (thank goodness for growing up in MT and being used to that!) We talked about how bizarre it was that a three-hour walk was no longer a big deal.  When, in the states, would you be all right with walking three hours to get somewhere?  If that were the case, I’d just pass on whatever activity required the three-hour walk!  While our arrival in town was a relief, we weren’t out of the woods until our 7-hour bus ride to Butwal was over.  We boarded the bus with some anxiety.  About an hour and a half outside of Tulsipur we had successfully crossed all the rivers that could have hampered our journey.  The rest of the road was fine, although we passed nearly 30 small and medium sized landslides that had blocked the road the day before and had only recently been cleared.  By 5:00 we arrived in Butwal-dirty, sunburned, exhausted, but relieved.  A delicious “American” dinner and good night’s sleep left us refreshed and ready for the final leg of our journey.  The Butwal to KTM leg of the journey was easy.  We splurged and spent an extra 20 rupees on a deluxe bus!  This meant free water, comfortable seats and Nepali and Indian music videos that we got to make fun of-what a treat!

We arrived in KTM on Sunday afternoon and I immediately ran to a nearby hotel pool to swim with my friend, who was celebrating his 21^st birthday.  While it wasn’t exactly ideal pool weather, just being in a bathing suit, floating in a pool, surrounded by manicured gardens transported me back home for a short hour.  Sunday was about my friend’s birthday.  After getting dressed up and going out to dinner, we all consolidated in our largest hotel room for the commencement of the festivities.  Debauchery was had.  I don’t think anyone can understand how wild we get, and why, unless they’ve experienced the isolation of living in a rural village for weeks and months on end.  We are desperate to talk, to laugh wildly, to dance (often raunchily), to eat, to drink, to touch, we are desperate to do all those things that we can’t do at site.  So, whenever anybody chides us for being loud and wild, I just think “you have no right, because you have never been where we have been, you have never done what we have done.  And if you have, you have forgotten what it was like.”  After cake, a twerking contest and lots of silly picture taking, we managed to herd the group out to one of the only “clubs” in town.  The joy in that room, as everybody danced and laughed and let loose, was palpable.  Of course, the next morning saw hangovers to match the revelry of the night before. 

By Monday is was back to work. Those volunteers who were Resource Volunteers had sessions all day.  Us losers had to occupy our time in different ways.  I spent Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday from 12-4 at the PC office-meeting with staff, trying to fix problems that are un-fixable at site, advocating for GAD.  Monday evening saw GAD’s first in-person meeting.  It went wonderfully.  Our new CD and his wife attended, the only staff members who thought it worth their time, and were very interested and attentive.  We had so much work to do that our meeting turned into a two-part-er, but I am very excited about what our position in PC will be, in the coming year, as well as our upcoming and ongoing projects-I’ll keep you updated! 

Most evenings were spent watching movies (“The Fault in Our Stars”-what a hilarious stinker!), getting yummy dinners and drinks and going dancing.  For the most part, the time PCVs spend together is joyful, fun and full of love. However, there is a dark side to PC relationships (both platonic and sexual) that I never anticipated. 

When I joined PC, I honestly thought that peace-loving, semi-crunchy granola types would surround me. I actually thought that I would be one of the more abrasive, non-hippy types in the group-boy was I wrong! I have spoken about the drama in PC before, but right now, it seems out of control.  I guess when you put 24 people together who, with the exception of two volunteers, are between the ages of 21 and 31, things will happen. PC Nepal is like “The Real World”(the only exceptions being a lack of physical fights and camera confessionals).  We have: cliques, intrigue, rumors, gossip, breakups, cheating, fights, tantrums, crying, lying, bullying. 

Another thing that I had heard about PC was that 75% of people return to the states either married, engaged or in a serious relationship.  Now, Nepal may just be different from other PC countries, but, at this point, I don’t see how it’s possible for that number to even be 25%!  To start or sustain a romantic relationship amidst all this…well, I don’t know how it’s possible.  Platonic friendships are easier, as they don’t have sex mucking things up, but even our PC platonic relationships have to contend with rumors, mistrust and lies.  The friendships that can stay afloat amidst this will be very strong, to be sure.  I count myself very lucky to have several of these friendships to provide me emotional support during the struggles of PC.  I do not think that the situation we are dealing with is because we just happen to have dramatic, bad people as volunteers.  I think that we see the worst (and also the best, at times) in each other, brought out by the massive stresses that we contend with.  This, in combination with youth and general horniness creates the cesspool of drama in which we find ourselves.  To stay sane, I just try to stay out of it and to help my friends navigate the turbulent waters, when they fall in, to give them lots of love and to be an advocate for them.  The fact that I (and my friends) haven’t  freaked out, hit anyone or quit, seems to speak to the fact that I’m doing a fairly good job. 

I have no solution for our situation.  I can only hope that people start being more self-reflective about their actions, to see how much more pleasant life would be without cliques and bullying and rumor mongering(lord knows, I like gossiping as much as the next person, but the difference between gossiping and rumor mongering lies in the truth of the information being passed about).  Life here is hard enough without feeling that your every thought and action could be fodder for criticism and/or malicious embellishment. 

Travel back to site was also difficult.  I stayed in KTM two days longer than I had planned, due to concerns about roads and thus the necessity of Dang-ers traveling together.  Once I got to our district capital, I was further stalled by a Bandh (these are called by political parties and basically say that for a certain amount of time, no vehicles are allowed on roads). I don’t see the point of them, except as a show of political strength.  I stayed over night in the capital and then finally finished the long trek back to site-laden down with two packages from home and dog food for Danny.

 While site is very boring, I am relieved to be home-to the peace and quite, at least for a little while. 

Sympathy for the Devil

9/8/14

Things have been complicated, lately. 

In order to prepare for the arrival of a new group of volunteers, PC put out the call for applications for people to be “Resource Volunteers.”  These people will teach different sections of the Pre-Service Training curriculum to the PCTs.  I did not want to do this, as it would mean at least two extra weeks away from site and I wasn’t particularly interested in many of the subjects.  In addition, the person in charge that I had talked with about my GAD (Gender and Development) committee assured me that GAD would be instrumental in the Gender trainings of PST, thus, I would get to teach something that I liked, get to meet the new group, but without having to do through the rigomroll of being a Resource Volunteer. Or so I though.

Several weeks ago, I called the PC staff member in charge of training to discuss the GAD committee’s place in PST.  He claimed to know nothing about it and said that the only way that I could teach during PST was as a Resource Volunteer.  I felt completely betrayed.  After all the trouble that PC had put me through with GAD-little money, no recognition for weeks (because some staff members had some “reservations” about some of our members-such obvious favoritism among the staff that it makes me sick), NOW we don’t even get to perform one of our main functions?  So, with no other option, I, at the last minute, applied to be a Resource Volunteer.  I thought that, since I was obviously the most qualified candidate to teach PCTs about Gender and Development (it was the subject of my Master’s Thesis, after all…), I would at least get to discuss gender as a Resource Volunteer. 

But, ohhhhh, how I underestimated the ridiculous, embarrassing unprofessionalism and favoritism of PC Nepal.  Because I’m on some sort of shit list (bad attitude, the wrong friends), I was denied even this position. Five of us (all extremely well qualified), three of whom are well known members of the “shit list squad” were denied places, out of 24 applicants-could it be more obvious?!  PC tried to say that they picked the most qualified candidates, that it was all about availability, blah blah blah-but we know the real reason, and any lingering trust in the professionalism and justness of the PC Nepal staff is gone.  As if it’s not hard enough here, so many of us feel completely on our own, knowing that PC staff can’t be trusted to support us, help us or even believe us. 

The week after the Resource Volunteer bombshell dropped was rough.  I felt betrayed, angry, frustrated and finally resigned.  I will do what I came to Nepal to do, I will support my friends, and I will make the GAD committee as great as I possibly can, but I won’t play any more of PC Nepal’s games. I won’t. 

To make matters worse, I was planning on going on a mini in-country vacation to Pokhara, at the end of that terrible week.  This, of course, was too good to be true.  PC decided to re-schedule an emergency evacuation drill, meaning that I got to sit at site and brood and sweat for another week.  Last Friday we finally had the drill.  Every volunteer in Dang had to make our way to our warden’s house.  Three of us got there within two hours of the call.  Our fourth within three hours.  The last member, fuming and spewing negativity, as always, reached our warden’s house after nearly 5 hours, a package from the post office in tow.  Ridiculous.  We spent the rest of the afternoon going through our emergency supplies, discussing evacuation procedures, etc.  That evening we drank and laughed in our hotel room. A PC staff member of course, yelled us at the next day.  This is getting really old.  First of all, Nepali hotels are always empty, we knew that we weren’t disturbing anyone.  Second, any PC staff member that gets mad at volunteers for blowing off steam clearly hasn’t spent a single day at a real site; clearly doesn’t know what it’s like to be cooped up, to feel like you’re going mad. 

Saturday began my vacation, finally.  Day one: Tulsipur to Butwal in the PC vehicle, a nice break from the horrible Nepali buses, and a luxurious, expensive night in one of the nicest hotels in Nepal-hot shower, room service, HBO. Day two: Butwal to Pokhara-economics podcasts the whole way.  Evening of Day two to Day Five: lots of good “American” food, Internet at an expensive café, flirting with Spanish soldiers, catching up with friends, sleeping late.  It was a nice trip, although tainted rather melancholy by the emotional difficulties of one of the friends that I was visiting. 

Day five saw me on a bus towards the south, towards “home.”  In the second hour on the bus, through some bizarre accident, the seat in front of me cut a huge chunk out of the top of my right pinky toe.  It was horrible-searing pain, blood everywhere, trying not to think about how dirty everything on these buses are.  To make matters worse, the only thing that the asshole that had moved the seat and cut me could say was “why was your foot there?” (as if there is so much leg room that my foot could be anywhere else?!) and, only one single person on the bus tried to help me.  I McGuivered myself a bandage with a napkin from my purse and a piece of yarn and sat, furiously trembling, for the next 5 ½ hours on the bus.

 The next day, I just barely made it to Tulsipur in time for the bus to my site, when I discovered that it hadn’t come in from the village, at all, because the road was flooded-just me luck!  Thankfully, a very kind man from the village next to mine was arranging a taxi all the way to the village, and got me a seat in the front of it (meaning that there were only three of us on the bench seat, not 5, like in the back).  No matter how wonderful the vacation, the trip back to site is so agonizing, that I’m always very relieved to see my tan house with the water buffalo out front, to hear Danny whining to get to me. 

Yesterday, I went to Ben’s site in Shreeghaun and we did a trial run of my proposed hand-washing trainings.  He taught two classes about the Why, When and How’s of hand washing and I taught them how to build a hand-washing station, like the one that we built in Pipal Danda.  Ben’s part went well, although there was very little participation, but mine went embarrassingly badly.  First, it was close to impossible to teach and facilitate the building with nearly 100 kids gathered round-so many children made me panicky.  Secondly, I had forgotten a last minute, very necessary modification that we’d made to the design, in Pipal Danda.  So, the first attempt at construction was a failure.  I had to call my fellow Pipal Dandian to remind me what we had changed.  At that point, I just finished building it myself, and it turned out well, I think (or as well as can be expected from someone who has no construction skills.  I can barley even build a pillow fort!).  The kids very enthusiastically tried it out.  I hope that it holds up and that it increases the number of kids washing their hands with soap-any reduction in the amount of diarrheal diseases in Nepal would be an improvement.

Today is a rainy, lazy day.  Tomorrow is a holiday, so I’ll probably be lazy then, too.  I have four days this week to make some headway on my hand-washing project for my area.  On Friday I have to leave again for Kathmandu.  I managed to finagle to have our first official GAD meeting in Kathmandu, at the same time the other “permanent” committees are meeting.  I’ll be there from Saturday night to Tuesday morning.  My return will mark a period of prolonged site dwelling and, hopefully, lots of work progress.  The next break in site is Thanksgiving. 

FOOD

26/7/14

So, there is pretty much negative activity going on at site, so this week I decided to wax poetic about the thing that I, and most volunteers, think about, dream about and discuss every day. Food.

To start us off, here’s what I eat in a day, every day, the same thing:

Morning:

2 pieces of rice flour roti (like a thicker tortilla)

Peanut butter

 1 piece fruit

1 cup of milk (sometimes, in the rainy season our water buffalo produces less, so I might not get this.)

A butt load of vitamins and supplements

Afternoon:

2 pieces of rice flour roti

Peanut butter

 Mustard

Sometimes: an extra piece of fruit, if I have it, a protein bar, a packet of soup or other American food that someone has sent me.

Evening:

1 ½-2 cups white rice (Bhaat)

A lentil broth called Daal

A curried “vegetable” mix usually consisting of potatoes with the occasional addition of beans, peas, tomatoes, squash or okra.

It is always the same. Always. 

When I go into town (once a week), I’ll have French fries or these fried cheese nuggets called “cheese pakoda,” “donuts”-really only rolls with some sort of non dairy cream and chopped up maraschino cherries in them, an “ice cream” cone (the quotation marks are used to denote how terrible this ice cream is. Not only is the flavor unidentifiable, but also since the power is so unreliable here, it has that terrible consistency of ice cream that has melted and been re-frozen, over and over again. But we eat it anyways, because, what’s the alternative?

Here’s what I’ve fantasized, discussed with other volunteers and dreamed about since I’ve been here:

Cheetos

Tortilla chips

Guacamole

Sour Cream

Bagels with cream cheese

Truffle fries

Good salads

Good fruit

Smoothies

A pot of Irish tea with biscuits

Muffins

Cupcakes

Red velvet cake

Lysa’s coconut cake with lemon curd

Lemon curd

Mom’s butter brickle pecan cake

Pancakes with maple syrup

Cheeseburgers with crispy bacon and a fried egg

Greek fries

Falafel

Hummus

Pita chips

Pizza

Baguette with goat cheese and tomatoes

Roasted vegetables

Tomato soup and a grilled cheese

Strawberry rhubarb pie

Huckleberry Ice Cream

Frozen pizza

Mashed potatoes

Turkey

Olives

 Dill pickles

Grey poupon

Good ice cream

Avocadoes

Cold watermelon

Corn on the cob

Indian tacos

Eggnog

Root beer

Champagne

Lasagna

Buckwheat waffles

Salami

Donuts

Curly fries

Mozzarella sticks with marinara sauce

Salmon

Asparagus

Broccoli

Fresh spinach

Peaches

Nectarines

Hostess or Little Debbie Snacks

Shepard’s pie

Chicken and dumplings

(I’m salivating and on the verge of tears, here)

Drunk chicken

Avgolemnn soup

Margaritas

Black bean quesadillas

Good salsa

Cheesy hash browns

Fried eggs-over medium

Wheat thins

Caprese salad

Gelato

Pesto

Good wine

Sangria

Good bourbon

Macaroni and cheese

Plum jam

And a million other things that I have probably forgotten.

So, the next time you eat any one of these things, think of this poor little PCV, all the way on the other side of the world.  Oh, but don’t put a picture on FB, that’s just fucking cruel. Seriously, we HATE when we see delicious food online, it is like a stab in the gut, and a visual reminder of how much our lives suck. DON’T DO IT.  

Now, I realize that the above rant is ironic, coming from a Food Security volunteer. What I’ve come to realize is that we cannot divorce ourselves from our upbringings, only make ourselves aware of them and try not to let them influence our interactions with others, much.  I would never complain about the lack of food variety to a Nepali, I know how spoiled that would sound. I also know, however, that this is just an honest account of my feelings.  It should also be pointed out, that Nepalis are happy with their limited food variety (not to say that they are happy with limited AMOUNTS of food, obviously, food scarcity is a very big issue in this country and many like it, around the world, just that they really, really love Daal Bhaat).  Even wealthy Nepalis like having Daal Bhaat every day, that’s the way that they grew up-just as I grew up having a variety of foods.  When I return to the US, I will, indeed, hope for that embarrassment of riches that is American food culture, but, I will devour the above with the knowledge that I have committed my life to a job that will work to provide something similar to more people around the world.  Maybe Nepalis wouldn’t appreciate having lasagna one night and Shepard’s pie another, but I do know that they would appreciate having milk every day, and enough food for their children, and maybe, just maybe, a different “tarkari” every day.  Here’s to an embarrassment of riches for all.

Love and miss you all,

Maria

Back at Site

6/7/14

My last two days in KTM were stressful, as they so often are, in KTM.  The battery that I had ordered was not in yet, of course.  So now, I have to figure out another way to get one-necessitating either another trip to KTM or to Pokhara (another city two days away).  On the bright side, the kittens that I rescue were both adopted.  I honestly feel that rescuing those kittens is the best thing that I’ve done in PC, so far.  To celebrate, I went by the KAT centre.  It is so sweet to see Nepalis taking care of animals, as that is rare.  The nice young men working there showed me around.  About half of the dogs there live there permanently and are up for adoption.  The other half are dogs that have been brought in from the streets for treatment-sterilization, vaccination and medical care.  Unfortunately, there is not space or money to keep all of the dogs, so this second group of dogs is released back onto the streets, which breaks my heart.  It’s very frustrating, because the workers say that those dogs can’t be put up for adoption because they are “owned” by the communities that they come from. This is bullshit.  If these dogs were really “owned,” they would be taken care of, as pets. Instead, they are allowed to sleep in doorways, sometimes given scraps, and used as objects upon which frustration can be taken out.  It is preposterous that these dogs are missing out on the opportunity to be adopted by people that would actually love and care for them, to be returned to people that do not deserve or value them. 

Is spent a couple of hours playing with the dogs (and a few cats), giving them love and throwing the ball for them.  Nearly all of these dogs were sweet and gentle and so excited to be getting attention.  It’s so sad, because these dogs have every right to hate people, and yet, all they want is love and care.  Saying goodbye to them, especially the dogs that were going to be released, was very sad.  I’m genuinely worried that I’m going to return to America with several dogs… Next time I’m there, I’ll go back and see my new friends. 

After a couple more nice dinners with Elizabeth, I had to undertake the two-day journey back to site.  I wasn’t particularly excited to return (except to see Danny), but after 17 hours on a bus, anywhere to lay down starts to sound nice.  I got to pick up a couple of packages on the way back, which was a nice treat, and I’m loaded down with new books and magazines for the coming months, so I felt as prepared as possible.

The next few days I spent with my fellow Dang-ers, celebrating the 4^th and regaling them with stories of the real world.  I was very glad to be surrounded by friends, again, even if it meant being back in the bowels of PC.

Monsoon season has begun. It’s not as bad as I imagined, just very muddy.  It’s not like I went outside all that much, anyways, so it’s not changing much. However, the bug situation is out of control.

The other morning, I was putting on my nightgown only to see a huge bug on it.  I screamed and flung it off. 25 minutes later, much to my horror, I realized that it was still inside of my nightgown. Bad morning. 

Today marks the real beginning of my return to work.  Lots of planning to do, and phone calls to make.  I am really just hoping to find my unicorn, soon. A unicorn is an organization that wants to work with me, that is organized enough to actually help with a project, that can give me work to do, for the next 16 months.  Ahhh, if only I had a unicorn.  The next month is dedicated to planning for upcoming projects, and filling out grant applications for those projects. 

These next few months will be difficult, as there are very few events to look forward to.  The beginning of September is the next time that I have an out-of-town meeting.  I guess I’ll have to come up with something to motivate me for July and August.

Missing you all, especially those of you getting to enjoy that magical Missoula summer.

Xoxox

Zoop

P.S. I planted rice, yesterday. Look at me!