Culmination, Appreciation, Anticipation

Everyone passed the Language Proficiency Exam (some with flying colors), so all 24 members of Nepal 200 were sworn in together. At 6am on Sunday, November 24, we headed for Chautara to board the bus to Kabre. On our walk, we spotted a few rhesus macaques in the trees above, and then more than a dozen moving through the empty rice patties. A two-hour drive brought us to our retreat, a very peaceful place between Chautara and Kathmandu. The following morning, we assembled for our Swearing-In Ceremony. Most of us donned the traditional dress of Nepal: the males in daura surwals; the females in saris. One member of each host family was invited, along with representatives from USAID, Save the Children, and other organizations working on food security in Nepal. A few of us (including me) sang a traditional Nepali folk song, and two volunteers gave a speech entirely in Nepali. The guests of honor, Peace Corps Nepal Country Director Andrea Wojnar-Diagne, former Nepal PCV Mike McGill, and United States Amassador Peter Bodde, spoke a few words of encouragement to prepare us for service. After uttering an oath, we officially became volunteers. Following countless photos with friends, family, and staff, we ate what I considered to be a pretty good lunch but that many Nepalis later dismissed as not very tasty. The guests and staff gradually departed, leaving a sole staff member and the 24 of us behind. I think I needn’t go into detail about the rest.

Thursday, November 28 was another special day. In America, you all celebrated Thanksgiving, and some of you observed the first night of Hanukah. Since we only have two half-Jews in our whole group, the newly minted volunteers of Nepal 200 forwent the latter but endeavored to pull off our own Thanksgiving feast. In the morning, our cluster joined with another to cook a continental American breakfast, complete with French toast, eggs, hash browns, applesauce, and fruit salad. We also managed to scrape together some honey, jam, peanut butter, and maple syrup. Everything tasted amazing.

While we were devouring our breakfast, a number of other volunteers were already at the training center preparing the midday meal. A little over an hour before our scheduled eating time, I arrived to find friends running around setting tables, cooking various dishes, arranging platters, and washing dishes. One by one, soda, devilled eggs, hummus, naan, cornbread, stuffing, mashed potatoes, persimmon sauce (our substitute for cranberries), and green bean casserole made their way to the table. One of the clusters had made place cards each with a unique spirit animal for each volunteer, so while we waited around for the chickens (there are no turkeys in Nepal, and few Nepalis even know what a turkey is) to arrive from a nearby hotel, we attempted to guess the corresponding human identities of animals such as the grouper, ostrich, and beaver. I was ascribed the beagle, for being “all-American”, “excitable”, and someone everyone’s mom would like. At last the chickens arrived and the banquet began. For the second time in the day, I marveled at our ability to cook delicious American food in a foreign setting, with such limited ingredients and facilities. The dessert of apple cinnamon momos, sweet potato pie, and puppy chow was equally tasty. At the end of the feast, our cluster passed around an envelope requesting that everyone contribute to fund the installation of an improved cookstove at the old folks home we visited for our LCF’s birthday. We raised more than enough.

The entire village of Mahjgaun also celebrated and feasted on Thanksgiving, but not because of the holiday—we had a wedding! On my way home on Thanksgiving eve I chanced upon a huge crowd eating and chatting at a neighbor’s house. I was quickly ushered into the food line and a plate was shoved in my hands. Hundreds came to enjoy the food and offer pujaa to the bride, a nineteen-year old girl from the community. The next day, after our American breakfast, a few of us headed down the hill to watch the wedding itself. In the courtyard between two houses, a space of a few square meters had been roped off, with raw rice, sel roti, and various other offerings in the center. Throughout much of the ceremony, an old man I’d never met put his arm around me, making me promise that I would invite him to my wedding and instructing me to dance at the least appropriate times. The groom arrived by bus, preceded by a marching band playing a triumphant but discordant and overlong ballad. The groom, an unsmiling youth in a suit and topi who can’t have been much older than me, made his way through the throng to a plastic lawn chair in the courtyard. Soon the bride appeared decked out in a red sari, jeweled veil, and ornamented grass necklace. She circled the courtyard and arrived beside the groom, whom she circled three times, all the while pouring water onto the ground from a golden pitcher. Then the groom rose from his chair and accepted the grass necklace from her. In return, he lifted her veil and placed a necklace on her. The two exchanged rings and then stood for a long while as a few women distributed red colored rice to the onlookers. At last, everyone threw the rice at them. The ceremony over, the bride returned to the house and the groom retook his seat to receive offerings from various relatives. I left at this point in order to go to the Thanksgiving feast.

I was a bit surprised at the brevity, informality, and disorder of the ceremony, especially given the importance of weddings in Nepal. Weddings are among the most significant life events for Nepalis, along with birth, coming of age, and death. Parents once prearranged all weddings, but “love marriages” (which involve parental consent) and elopements (which don’t) are becoming increasingly popular. People typically marry from within the same caste; otherwise, their children are demoted to the lower-status caste. Because the bride’s family must pay a dowry, daughters are sometimes viewed as a financial burden. Girls may also be seen as temporary family members, typically moving into their in-laws house or village after marrying. In some castes, women must have their nose pierced, and men their ears pierced, before marrying. In the past, if a wife did not provide a son within the first ten years of a marriage, the man could legally take a second wife.

Marriage is often a hot topic with the locals—in the past 3 days alone I have been asked more than ten times if I am married and if I will marry a Nepali woman. I’m still looking for a good response to this question: usually I just say “maybe, we’ll see” or “I’m waiting to meet a good woman,” but these often prolong the conversation. Other times I lie and say I have several wives. Sometimes this actually works pretty well.

The following day, in the spirit of cultural sharing and thanks giving, we were asked to cook a meal for our homestay families. After eating breakfast, I headed into Chautara with my host father to buy ingredients (very kindly paid for by the Peace Corps). On my evening menu was rice, beans, roti, western scrambled eggs, and chicken fajitas—a sort of amalgam of American, Mexican, and Nepali foods. To give you some sense of the price of food in Nepal, know that I bought all of the following for under $10 total: a half kilo of garlic; a kilo of onions; a kilo of tomatoes; a half kilo of mushrooms; two green bell peppers; a half kilo of beans; an eighth kilo of hot green peppers; an eighth kilo of hot red peppers; a bundle of cilantro; a kilo of flour; a liter of soybean oil; ten eggs; and a half kilo of chicken. I spent the next two and a half hours cooking with my host father and sister, trying to explain my idea for the meal. Gratefully, they were open to my plan—Nepalis can be pretty inflexible when it comes to food (even my family cooked daal bhaat just in case dinner turned out the be a disaster). But it didn’t, largely thanks to their help.

With only two days remaining of Pre-Service Training, a mixture of thoughts and emotions has been swirling in my head. Reflecting back on the past three months, I am amazed at how much I have absorbed. I now speak the language well enough to follow and participate in most basic conversations with Nepalis. I have a decent understanding of the culture; customs that once felt strange have become habit. I’ve learned a variety of tools for improving food security, from permagardening to vegetable preservation to building improved cookstoves. I’ve collaborated with Nepalis and other volunteers in organizing and holding several trainings.

At the same time, this is just the beginning. We arrived in Nepal as strangers, with different past experiences, attitudes, motivations, and skills. We were all in our own boats. Peace Corps tied us together and dropped us in the ocean, giving us the illusion of one large, shared journey, with many of the same experiences. We lost three along the way, but each was a reminder that we are in this together. But now the ropes are about to be cut, and we will once again be alone in the sea, searching for solid ground to build upon.

Sorry for the drawn-out metaphor—but a few friends here agree that it pretty accurately describes this experience. The days ahead will bring a new family, community, coworker, office, and job. There is everything to look forward to.