Welcome to the future!

It’s Tuesday, September 17, 2013. Or so I thought. When I went to write the date on the board in the first class of the day, the children reacted as though I had told them that they were going to be writing a surprise exam;

“Noooooo!!!!”

Apparently, it’s June 1, 2070.

I still haven’t figured out this crazy calendar system they’ve got going here. After accusing some poor child of being an alien from the future after she wrote her birth year as 2063, no one has been able to explain why they are in such a rush to get through the 21st century.

Today was better in some ways. I taught for Tara Nepal ALL day and realized she was getting a pretty sweet deal out of it when she effed off with her purse over her shoulder, out the front gates as soon as the first class started and I was informed that I would be taking her classes for the day. She was apparently going to some protest or assembly thing for supporting teachers, so I guess as long as she’s stickin’ it to the man, it’s all good.

My first class was Class 7 who started out alright, (I’d been in with them yesterday for one class that I observed) but when I returned after the first class to teach them period 2, the boys side moaned with displeasure and some even yelled, “NO!” as I re-entered the room. I’m pretty sure the howls of disapproval came from the boy whom I’d forced to get up twice to place items in the garbage bin after I’d finished my little makeshift mini-lesson on Environmental Awareness and caught him throwing things across the room, onto the floor and then outside on the ground…just to spite me and my happy earth drawing.

Class 8 was an absolute joy and they ate up my “we all call Earth home, so treat it like your own house” bit and were enthusiastically showing me their “Happy Earth” drawings by the end of the class, waving and screaming “THANK YOUUUUUU” as the class ended. Win some, ya loose some.

I taught Grade 3 twice; the first was with Mr Handsome helping to translate as I made creative little explanation of our Canadian flag incorporating the maple leaf, maple tree and maple syrup connection as well as our seasons, animals and sports. I asked them to explain their flag to me (sun and star = always in sky = Nepal always a country) as it has never been occupied by another country before. They were asking him to tell me to come back as I left, despite the language barrier and just my luck, I was back with them after lunch. Luck must have been in short supply, because they appeared to have eaten whatever evil infused treat was fed to the gremlins in Grade 1 the day before because they turned into a bunch of monsters about half way through. They were running all over the place, yelling, starting some mutually decided mass classroom cleanup and would not listen to a single word I said – whispered, grunted, shouted or screamed. I had just picked up my bag to walk out of the room when the bell rang. I’m sure I broke some customary departure rules involving a bow and a Namaste, but I was just too worked up, I had to get out.

Finally, I was with the lovely Grade 5s to finish the day and we played a few rounds of hangman, a couple more with student volunteers and then we quickly reviewed their homework on “wants” from the night before. This was the crew who was forced to do pushups yesterday and as luck would have it, barely a one of them completed theirs. As I made the rounds to check, eager eyes glanced up at my disappointed face and asked “pushups??” “No. No pushups. Do your homework!” Oops. Near the end of the class, one boy stood up and went over to Mr Handsome who had come into the room to sit in the back and help out with translating as he did some work. The boy had with his hand over his mouth and I suspected he had lost a tooth or coughed up something unsightly. Fortunately, it was no more than a bloody incisor and he went out to the bathroom. I seized the opportunity to explain the tooth fairy which seems way stupider than you’d think trying to tell a bunch of kids that we Canadians believe that some little person with wings flies into your room at night and steals your teeth like some grave robber and leaves you a few coins if you’re lucky. Unfortunately, I’ve again probably encouraged some bizarre behavior which may result in these 38 kids rushing home tonight, yanking out their teeth and sticking them under their pillow in hopes that they’ll make up a few rupees richer.

Their tradition made a bit more sense, but seemed a bit more organic; they stick the tooth into a handful of cow shit and toss it over the roof of their house while making a wish that they will be healthy and grow new teeth. I’m not sure if it’s the same custom held for the elderly, but if it is I’m assuming they aren't as lucky with the outcome or they’re not throwing as far.

I was thankfully given my first break of the day during the last period and chatted to three of the teachers as well as two other men played a fun game of 21 questions with me. That would be 21 questions each, which eventually turned into commands:

“How much money do you make as a teacher in Canada?” “How much do you make as a teacher every day?” “How much do you make as a teacher every week?” How much do you make as a teacher every month?” How much do you make as a teacher every year?” “How long have you been a teacher?” “Do the children work in groups?” “How do you teach them?” “Do you work for the government?” “How much does it cost to go to university there?” “What are your qualifications?” “How long did you go to university?” “What did you study in university?” “What does your father do?” “What does your mother do?” “How many sisters and brothers do you have?” “What do they do?” “Are you married?” “Do you have a boyfriend?” “Why not?” “Have you been to Bharatbud?” “Would you like to come to Bharatbud?” “Tell Ranjan that you are coming to Bharatbud with me tomorrow.”

And it seems as thought most conversations I have had/will have in Nepal have traveled along this same line of questioning. By then end, I had a date set to stay with one of the male teachers and his family in a town 20km away tomorrow night. He even drove me home half way to make sure he could SEE me tell Ranjan that I would be staying with him the following night, but Ranjan and Swapna weren’t home.

“Ok, I see you tomorrow, don’t forget.”

He said as he drove off on his motorbike. I was walked to and from school with some of the children today. This morning I heard, “Sophia, the children are waiting for you!” as I was preparing my bag in my room. To my shock and delight, two of the girls who are often hanging around the house here, were all dressed up in their school clothes and waiting outside my door to walk me to school. Neither really speak English very well, but we had a nice walk regardless and fell into step with a few more along the way.

I hadn’t really had much for water all day and was absolutely parched, so I grabbed some rupees and walked back toward the school, about 10 minutes, to one of the little corner shops that sells water. Surprisingly, of the four shops that make up the town “Square” you would be lucky to find more than one that sells water at a time. I feel guilty buying plastic water bottles everyday; everyone in the community drinks well water, but I am a bit apprehensive. I would be ok if it could be boiled, but that’s a bit of a pain in the ass for them to do that for me, and without a cooling system, not an ideal way to be refreshed.

I wasn’t home 5 minutes when Ranjan and Swapna pulled up on the bike and Ranjan suggested within the next two that we go see a soccer game; I was keen to watch some footy, so I jumped on the bike and off we went down the bumpy dirt path about 15 minutes away where there were at least 200 people gathered to watch one of the first games of a large tournament that is being held amongst 31 teams in the Chitwan district. Ranjan’s friends and nephew played on the team we were cheering for (and they won!) and we stood along the side lines to watch the first half after I was fed crispy long fried ring snacks, vegetable pakora and some aloo (potato) thing. And an ice cream. Better step up the yoga.

We walked around to the other side of the field to watch the second half and sat along the banks of the river where oxen grazed and young boys swam and the big full sun set behind the trees to the left. To the right the Himalayas peeked above the clouds in the distance. It was such a nice evening. On the way home, we came across a figure curled on the rickety bamboo bridge we had to cross. Ranjan told me to get off the bike, drove it to the other side of the bridge and walked back to lift the figure up and help him to his feet. The figure was a disheveled man, around 60 with torn, dirty clothes and the stench of one who had been dabbling in the nectar of the gods for quite some time.

“You couldn’t have picked a worse place to sleep, buddy.” I said as Ranjan hoisted him to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he slurred as he brought his hands together in the prayer position and grinned with his little chicklet teeth.

His sandals were off his feet and I tried to place them in front of him so he could put them on. When it became obvious that that was not going to be possible, I tried to lift his feet to do it for him. He made the gesture to swat my hand away as he and Ranjan both said “no no!”

“It is disrespect to have someone touch your feet in Nepal.” I should have known this as there always seems to be some foot rule in every country in Asia, but I assumed all rules went out the window when it came to dealing with drunkards.

I was worried I’d disrespected this man, but as it turns out, he was worried he was being disrespectful to me. Even piss-drunk, these Nepalis have manners!

On the way home, we discussed marriage; Ranjan informed me that he and Swapna had a ‘love marriage’ and not an arranged one, as many people still do in Nepal. He met her at a family member’s home, proposed to her a week later, she thought about it for one more, agreed and then they fell in love.

“So you got engaged and THEN you fell in love?”

“Yes!”

His eldest sister had a very Romeo & Juliet story; she was supposed to be married to some guy when she was younger, but was in love with her boyfriend at the time. A few days before the marriage was supposed to take place, she ran away from home with her boyfriend and they were married on their own! Apparently her family was a bit sad because everyone was talking about ‘the love’ and she was too afraid to tell them how she really felt. But eventually, everyone got over it and she and her husband had three children, one of whom was meant to be playing soccer this evening. The husband, however, died last year from heart problems so now she is left with three children to continue raising on her own.

They are all a bit older; one daughter Sidu is 20 and studying to become a teacher. She is taking morning classes starting at 6am in town about 40 minutes away by bicycle and then teaching at a small school in the afternoon to help pay the 600Rs/month she has to pay for tuition. The education course takes 5 years to complete and she is now in her second.

Ranjan and Swapna left again after we returned from the game, and I was served a nice dinner of, none other than rice, okra & potato curry, dhal and a small dollop of spicy tomato chutney. Gorima, Ranjan’s niece sat and translated for Ama as she asked many questions about my parents, life in Canada and trying to figure out what the bloody hell this 29 year old childless, unmarried girl is doing paying to come stay in rural Nepal when she hasn’t seen her family for over a year.

“Does she think I’m a bad daughter?” I asked Gorima to ask her.

“Ahh…hahhah” laughter in reply.

“Do you give your parents money?” Ama asked through Gorima.

“Do I give THEM money?! Good God no, I don’t have enough money to give myself!”

“Do your parents give you money?”

“I wish my parents gave me money!”

“Your mommy stays in the home all day? Who cooks, her or you? Sisters married? Jobs? Children?” 21 questions must be a popular game in Nepal.

We somehow got onto the topic of exercise, girls being girls anywhere in the world, Sidu and Gorima were inspecting their overly plump (or by their standards) bellies and I showed them a couple yoga moves. Gorima almost broke her leg trying to recreate the pose on my TTC t-shirt so she decided it was safer in the kitchen where she made us the most delicious sweet tea I’ve ever had with sugar, lemon and something else that made it black.

Another long and tiring day, but I’m looking forward to mixing it up a bit come Saturday and hopefully doing some more ‘environmentally’ themed stuff with Ranjan next week and the elephants, the elephants!!!