What’s Black and White and Played All Over

I’d been told that Maajhgaaun (my village) has an excellent soccer field, and this was at least half accurate. By Nepali standards, the field is lovely. The outer boundary is well marked by rock and plant border. A pair of large rocks at either end serves as the goals, which inevitably leads to arguments over whether balls have hit the invisible post or have gone over the imaginary crossbar. The ground is mostly dirt but is also quite rocky, and I marvel at/feel for those who play in flip-flops or even barefoot. A cliff surrounds the field on all sides, which compels us to scramble after overshot balls before they fall over the edge. If this happens, one of the bystanders (typically the younger, less skillful players) or the responsible party descends the plateau in search for it. Last week I received from pretty sizable cuts and scrapes from such a pursuit.

After the first day of classes, I arrived at the field with my thirteen-year-old neighbor and what little Nepali I knew. After brief introductions and a few minutes of passing and juggling the ball, we spontaneously split into teams and began the match. (I later learned that the teams are all but fixed, although based on what I still don’t know).

I am a huge fan of the Nepali style of play. They are not overtly physical, call their own fouls and hand-balls, don’t make a big show out of scoring goals, and are (for the most part) not ball-hogs. This sportsmanship is particularly impressive considering most of these guys have had no formal soccer instruction. They do have a bit to learn in playing defense, however. As my endurance acclimates to the high altitude, I’m finding it easier and easier to blow by them. We’ll play anything from 6-on-6 to 10-on-10, with players ranging from 10 to 22 years old.

One of my favorite things about sports is the paradoxical importance of communication, but the triviality of language. By saying very little, I was still able to ask for the ball, give praise, and keep up with the progress of the game. As my knowledge of the language has improved, I’ve begun cracking jokes. I’ll give the score in terms of foods: andaa-andaa (egg-egg), kera-andaa (banana-egg), simi-andaa (string bean-egg). When the ball tumbles down the hill and is temporarily lost (haarayo), I ask if anyone needs a rabbit (kharayo). They seem to find my stupidity amusing.

Another of soccer’s marvels is its ability to bring together people from all walks of life. Soccer is played all over the world, at the most prestigious of European prep schools and at the poorest of African slums. Whether you invest hundreds of dollars in fields, uniforms, and equipment or buy a ball for $5 (as I did in Chautara), the game is largely the same. Young men of all castes come to compete on Maajhgaaun’s rocky soccer ground.

In all our cultural and language training thus far, we have largely avoided the issue of castes. To give some brief background from my high school world history class, the caste system has its origins in the Hindu belief in karma and reincarnation. The better one lives his/her life, the better his/her status in the next life. Eventually, an individual can work his/her way out of the caste system and achieve moksha (liberation from the cycle of life). Initially, caste was associated more with one’s education and occupation, but over time it became a highly stratified socioeconomic hierarchy. Certain castes are associated with certain professions and last names.  Hindus do not typically marry outside their caste, or their children will inherit the caste of the parent with lower status. The concept of jutho (impurity) also comes into play here: those of low status are considered untouchable, while the higher castes have some stricter dietary, ceremonial, and behavioral guidelines to maintain their purity. Nepali society is complicated by the fact that a large percentage of Nepalis are descended from Indians, who brought the caste system with them when they immigrated to Nepal. The indigenous peoples displaced by this migration are now referred to as “ethnic minorities,” some of which themselves have their own socioeconomic hierarchies.
 

My Chetri family, however, is not so progressive. Yesterday, I learned from my LCF that my aamaa does not approve of my playing soccer with some of the Dalit boys. I was not even aware they were Dalit. While it is not my job to change her mind about the caste system, we’ve been told than some of our Peace Corps projects will involve working with ethnic minorities and marginalized communities. The attitude towards the caste system is rapidly changing: on the whole, the younger generation cares very little about caste. When my language is a little better, I look forward to pressing my aamaa more about her beliefs.