Mahj-Gone

Our departure from Mahjgaun, where we lived, learned, and loved for nearly three months, was a sad moment for all. On our final afternoon, our cluster went for tea and snacks at each of our houses. My host mother had left for her maiti (parents’ house) that morning, and we were both in tears as she got in the bus. My sister and grandmother were the next victims, crying the next morning as they gave me tikaa and maalaas (garlands). Like many cultures, gifts are an important expression of gratitude in Nepal. I had given my family a new kettle, an herbal tea mix, a photo album, and handwarmers from the states. My mother gave me a scarf (she always worries about me being cold), and my sister gave me her necklace. My host father, who had stayed up the entire previous night sitting vigil in honor of his dead father, choked back tears as he led me up the hill, making me promise that I would call and come again. My language teacher’s family also gave me maalaa and a gift: a leather-bound journal with a ridiculous gel pen. All three of them, as well as my language teacher, wept as our cluster headed up the road to Chautara. For full disclosure, I should mention that I was crying for all these goodbyes.

It took us two days to get to Nepalgunj—thankfully, we had a very nice bus with plenty of legroom. The third biggest city in Nepal, Nepalgunj lies just a few kilometers from the Indian border. The Lonely Planet guidebook describes it as a “gritty border town” that “many travelers consider a necessary evil on the way to better things.” While our first impressions were mixed, Nepal 200 is now pretty content with Nepal-“grunge” being our meet-up spot.

The next morning we met our counterparts, all of whom are government employees working in either the agriculture or health sector. Each volunteer lives in his/her own Village Development Community (VDC), which is comparable to a small county. For example, I live in the district of Dang (out of 75 districts in Nepal), in the VDC of Shreegaun (out of 39 VDCs in Dang), and in ward 2 (of 9 wards in Shreegaun). My counterpart was supposed to be a medical officer, but the primary health center in Shreegaun currently lacks a doctor, so I’m working with the staff nurse for the now.

Many of the counterpart conference’s sessions were review for us, but must have been very useful for our counterparts, who previously knew little about Peace Corps, our project’s framework, or working with American grassroots organizers. The conference spanned two full days from 8-5, and definitely wore on everyone’s patience. One volunteer’s counterpart up and left during the second day—the volunteer was quickly reassigned to another counterpart in another VDC.

The evening of the second day, a few of us decided to go to Candy’s, a favorite hotel and restaurant for expats and development workers. I hopped on a rickshaw with two others and we wound our way through the hectic streets of Nepalgunj. On the way we passed a rickshaw carrying three Nepali transvestites. Traveling pretty far into the outskirts of the city, we finally spotted a dimly lit sign for the restaurant. Our group took up most of the tables in the quaint upstairs room. After a long wait, we dined on salad, bacon cheeseburgers, French fries, real ketchup, and carrot cake—the first truly American food we’d had in three months. Afterwards, we met Candy herself. A Minnesotan expat who had married a Nepali, she’s lived in Nepal for almost three decades. Given her delicious food and Midwestern hospitality, we’re set on spending Christmas there.

At 6:30 the next morning, we said our sleepy and teary goodbyes to one another. Many of us have become very close friends over the past three months, some seeing each other every day in our clusters. The next time Nepal 200 will be together as a group is at our In-Service Training in mid-February. Then three other volunteers and I loaded all our belongings onto a public bus and set out for our new home, Dang, with our counterparts.