So many thoughts have been swirling through my head-interesting conversations and people, epiphanies, random coincidences- I've had many many good days and a few rough ones throughout this month. I've noticed positive growth and changes within myself, my patience, confidence, and happiness. I've been procrastinating writing for weeks exactly because it feels so daunting.... To write negatively of the way of life here when the people have quite literally opened their doors to me, a complete stranger, feels fundamentally wrong.... but to romanticize the people and life here feels just as bad. So in my blog posts from now on, I want to display this place in all of its complexities....not only its natural beauty, the warmth and strength of the people here, or the joy of teaching and working with my students, but also about the crippling poverty and human trafficking, the lack of basic services and infrastructure, and the sexism that pervades all aspects of life here...
How do I consolidate all this into a few thousand words?!
My month in Bhotenamlang went by like a whirlwind of new experiences. I was so nervous about what this month would be like. A month truly seemed like an eternity. What would my day to day look like? With whom would I live? What would I eat? What would the kids be like? What would my lessons look like? It felt like a scary unknown. I was, to be completely honest with myself, dreading this experience more than looking forward to it. Now it all feels completely different, and I smile when thinking back to how nervous I was.
As I leave for Kathmandu, I realize this place has become a home to me. I've established rhythms and routines. I know all the streets (street is a strong word...there's one big path carved into the mountainside with many smaller paths running between houses.) I've discovered my favorite people, places, and foods here (and those to steer clear of)! I feel a sense of local pride... when returning from a hike to nearby villages I feel that same sense of relief and joy you get when arriving home. I'm also mastering the art of Nepalese small talk, ranging from thrilling topics such as food and weather to information about where the village bulldozer is (ok for context the Nepali government invested in a few thousand bulldozers a few years back. After the Monsoon season these bulldozers come out and clear the streets of fallen rocks and trees so that local buses can access these otherwise inaccessible villages. They have become so common in rural Nepal that even the oldest, most illiterate folk can identify a bulldozer!) I love practicing my smalltalk with passersby as I sit huddled in my sleeping bag at the doorframe of the house sipping chai. Not to play favorites, but I've found some favorite students as well! They come to my homestay after school, usually bringing vegetables from their fields (in Nepali culture you always have to bring some type of small gift when entering into another's home), and we talk about everything and nothing. The smaller ones are curious about what everyday objects are called in English and the older ones want to know what America is like. A few days ago, for the school talent show, a group of my students and myself choreographed and performed a Nepali dance in front of the entire village... it was really embarrassing and really fun. Afterwards on my walk home through the rice fields, an old woman cutting grass with a small adorned scythe told me how she never once in her whole life thought she'd watch a Queere (white foreigner) dance in her own village.
Surprisingly, I have come to really like Dal Bhaat...even at 9 am when my homestay family eats lunch. (The farmers here eat their lunch early so they can work the fields without interruption all day).Some nights after a heavy serving of Dhal Bhaat, I get together with neighbors and we sip the local Raksi (corn alcohol) as we catch up. I've perfected the art of washing my clothes (there are many different techniques I've observed the women at the water pump employ.. sometimes I stealthily watch and take note to add to my expanding repertoire!). My Nepali has really gotten into shape..I've learned to write and read as well! Whether it be in class or during breaks I make sure to pull aside a student or teacher and ask what a word means in Nepali... slowly I've been growing my vocabulary. In terms of learning Devanagari, the Nepali script, it has been a slow painful process but I am slowly getting a hang of it! I've even learned how to shuck corn, cut grass with a small machete, make alcohol out of a mix of ancient grains and corn, and feed goats...My mom likes to joke that I have gone back in time a few hundred years. And she's right. Even though this way of life is completely different than what I am used to, I feel so at ease here... life is simple and really beautiful.
In all honesty, I feel ~changed~ ( I mean that both completely ironically and seriously). I feel proud of myself for having been through this and I'm more confident now. I've become more relaxed and less anxious. I don't feel a need to explain myself or apologize when I ask for something. I feel a new mental strength and profound calm... like a deep happiness I haven't been able to tap into before. Sometimes I feels as if these four weeks have aged me four years! I dove into this whole experience (head first!), not sure what to expect, and have as a result connected very deeply with this place, its people, and myself.
Along with teaching English, which has been challenging and fun, I'm using this opportunity to play anthropologist. As my Nepali has come back to me (not by choice by the way.. it is the only way I can communicate here!) I strike up conversations with people to try to understand what forces have shaped their lives and whether/how aid has helped (or exacerbated) these issues. It's interesting to get into the heads of the people here and try to see life from their perspective. Talking to people during the day and then in the evening reading books about these issues has helped me put a face and add a personal touch to the statistics that I read about. One thing that really blew me away (but then again doesn't really surprise me) is the lack of literacy. Most women above 35 are illiterate and many share stories of family responsibilities and cultural barriers keeping them away from school as a child, followed by childhood marriages and a lack of reproductive choice. Something virtually all the women I talk to mention is some type of domestic abuse.
One woman here has helped me organize a women's literacy group that will take place in the mornings and evenings for an hour each. Working with older people and kids is completely different...There's a different dynamic between me and the women and me and the kids. Mostly though, I've realized how hard it is to learn once you're older. I'm not sure how much learning English will actually help these women in their lives, but I know that in terms of empowerment there's a certain joy and confidence you get in learning and doing something for yourself (experiences these women have not had the privilege to experience. Their lives have pretty much been in service of their brothers, parents, husbands, and children). I'm starting to craft lesson plans for these women and it's been a whole new adventure and learning experience for me.
Playing anthropologist is one of my favorite pastimes here (there is a lot to gain from listening to the experiences of people who don't usually get listened to)... along with washing my face (bet you didn't expect that). There's not many types of entertainment up here so I've had to figure out how to make the most of my situation. Washing my face is the closest I get to going swimming! I've been reading a lot to entertain myself... everything from lighthearted short stories to novels and poems. Sometimes, if the depressing stories I've heard throughout the day weigh too heavily on my chest, I let myself escape the world I'm currently inhabiting and watch YouTube videos of rich people flaunting their homes on Architectural Digest. #SelfCare.
From time to time I get so caught up in the rhythmic lull of this life that I forget to step back. Sometimes, in the middle of washing my clothes at the village water pump or downloading youtube videos of English songs for the third graders, I look around at the towering snowcapped mountains and think to myself "holy f*ck..... this is insane. where am i.... how did i get here....am i dreaming"
A complete change in topic..
Something I've been thinking about a lot are the concepts of "white saviorism" and "voluntourism". I was aware of these before but this month I've educated myself on these topics more and thought about them in relation to myself. A white saviorist complex is of a white person entering a non-white context in supposed service of others. Sadly, this ends up with the person using the experience in a self serving way (usually to better their image) leaving a harmful, negative impact on the community the person supposedly set out to serve. It usually involves depicting the people as "poor helpless people" and the white person presenting themselves as the "privileged, all-knowing savior". Essentially it is toxic behavior that reinforces colonial history and behavior. After reading an article about this, I started to ask myself questions.... Am I engaging in this behavior? Are there certain habits of mine that may be promoting this complex? After a lot of uncomfortable hours sitting with myself mulling over these questions, I ended up concluding that I'm not but that it is always good to check in with myself and my intentions. I think also the fact that it made me uncomfortable all the more proves that it is a worthy exercise. I really think this a topic worth researching and educating yourself on. Here's a great resource.
At an adjacent village there were two volunteers from England teaching English. I went to visit them and in learning what their intentions are and that they are only staying for 2 weeks I felt really disappointed. I asked a teacher at that school what he thought of the volunteers and he told me "in all honesty I think this is so they can add practical experience onto their resumes..." (rough translation). That made me sad. He told me how volunteers come with good intentions to help locals learn English, but end up taking more from the people there than helping. Intentions aren't enough, he told... that stuck with me. People come in with no cultural and linguistic context and end up requiring assistance from other teachers to act as translators (this leaves the other teacher's class unattended and uninstructed)... In my opinion, this practice of having short 3 week sessions with volunteer teachers upsets the flow of school life. Having 10 3-week English teachers is not a healthy environment for a kid to learn! Would we let 10 teachers from another country come teach our American kids for three week intervals?
Of course I am saying this from a place of privilege... I'm able to take a year to do this work and I'm lucky to know some Nepali. Most people who come to volunteer don't have those circumstances.. But still, it feels like it might be better to just donate to a school instead of half-heartedly attempting to volunteer for 3 weeks in a foreign country where you have no way to communicate with the people... just saying.
Since my last blog post, I have come to be incredibly at home in Bhotenamlang. It has been beautiful and ugly, challenging and surprisingly easy, emotional and straightforward, and many more adjectives.... I think perhaps the only thing that can really sum it up is "life-changing". It sure didn't feel like that when I had to squat over the "toilet" aka hole in the ground in the middle of the night or when I lost control of the hyper 3rd graders and ended up screaming until I lost my voice so they would follow my directions. The little remarkable moments of this month have added up, making this the experience it has been. Looking back I can truly say it has been "life-changing" for me.
Thank you as always for reading along and staying in touch! Wishing you a happy October :)