Figures of Speech

A language’s possession or lack of certain words and phrases, as well as their prevalence and connotations, can speak a lot of the culture it evolved in. Language is not only how we express our thoughts but also shapes our thinking. Several famous examples include Aboriginal Australians who speak in terms of absolute cardinal directions (north, south, east, west) rather than right or left and are therefore remarkably good at staying oriented in unfamiliar landscapes; Russians, who have more words for light and dark blues, are better able to discriminate between shades of blue; the Piraha people of Brazil, whose language, like those of the rabbits in Watership Down, eschews number words in favor of terms like few and many, are unable to keep track of exact quantities.

I’ve now got a pretty good grasp on the meanings, subtleties, and dualities of everyday Nepali words. Below are some of the quirks of the Nepali language I’ve come across. These aren’t academic observations by any means, but I believe some of them really capture some of Nepal’s defining characteristics:

·      Nepali has different words depending on the age of a relative and his/her specific relation to you. Whereas English uses “aunt” to denote both a parent’s sister and a parent’s sibling’s wife, in Nepali there are different words for your mother’s sister (thuli aamaa if she’s older than your mother, saanimaa if younger), mother’s brother’s wife (maiju), father’s sister (fupu), and father’s brother’s wife (kaaki). Likewise, their husbands (“uncles”) all have different names (thulo/saano buwaa; maama; fupaaju; kaaka).

·      Chiso (“cold” or “damp”) – In the village, chiso is believed to cause illness ranging from diarrhea to head colds and is probably the Nepali word I like hearing least. When the weather is chiso, Nepalis avoid eating foods that are “chiso” (i.e. contain a lot of water) such as cucumbers and apples are chiso. With its dual meaning, chiso becomes particularly confusing when trying to describe weather than is both hot and humid, since a word for “humid” or “damp” is not in the village vernacular.

·      Ahile (“now”) – Sometimes ahile means now, but sometimes it means in a minute, or in an hour, or fifteen minutes ago. Maybe a good loose definition is “in the vicinity of the present moment.”

·      Thulo manche (“big person”) – A thulo manche may be a community leader, government official, or wealthy person treated with special respect. Knowing a thulo manche can get you into a job or out of a jam. Some thulo manches are hardworking, inspirational, self-made men and women, but some have simply inherited their position and exploit their thulo manche status. Prestige is invaluable in Nepali society, a combination of your age, gender, caste, occupation, wealth, and connections.

·      Aaphno manche (“own person”) – An aaphno manche could be a relative, neighbor, or person who owes you a favor. Having an aaphno manche who is also a thulo manche is the ideal. People depend on their networks of aaphno and thulo manches, referred to as “channels”, to help them get ahead in the world.

·      Boot (both “past” and “ghost”)

·      Dhaan/chamal/bhaat (“rice”) – That’s right, Nepali has three different words for rice, for its three different stages: dhaan is unhusked rice; chamal is rice that has been husked but not cooked; bhaat is cooked rice. There are also different words for puffed rice and beaten rice, common Nepali snacks. Is the existence of so many words for rice a coincidence? I think not.

·      Khaana (“meal” or “rice”) – Khaana is a meal, eaten twice a day throughout most of Nepal. But while eating khaana, if you ask for more khaana, it’s understood that you mean more rice. Thus, the word for a meal is pretty much synonymous with rice. When villagers ask me about American food, many have a hard time understanding that we don’t eat rice or roti (flatbread) every day. In their thinking, a meal without rice or roti simply isn’t a meal.

·      Maasu (“meat” or “flesh”) – Maasu is typically goat or chicken, but also includes eggs. Because I eat eggs, some Nepalis don’t consider me a true vegetarian.

·      Namaste kira (“praying mantis”)

·      Gyaani (both “obedient” and “intelligent”) – Parents love to use this word to describe their children, as if to imply “look how smart my child is for obeying me.”

·      Rang (“color”) – There aren’t common Nepali words for the colors purple, pink, orange, or grey—in the village, these are typically considered shades of red, brown or white. This is consistent with a global pattern of the evolution of language in which terms first evolve for black and white, then red, then either green or yellow (followed by yellow or green, whichever was previously missing), then blue, and then brown—purple, pink, orange, and/or grey are the last colors to evolve.

·      Paani (both “water” and “rain”)

·      Ghumnu (“to wander around” or “to travel aimlessly”) – An acceptable reason for going anywhere; people might travel to the bazaar just to ghumnu. It so perfectly describes the act of roaming that many of us volunteers have picked up the habit of throwing it into our English conversations.

·      Maannu (“to consider”, “to regard”, “to respect”, “to worship”, “to obey”, or “to accept”) – I think it’s interesting that this one word encompasses so many related but distinct meanings.

·      Milaunu (“to match”, “to mix”, or “to arrange”). There’s no exact English translation for this verb, which can be used when reserving transportation, resolving a dispute, requesting a reduced price, or asking someone to do a favor. I think of it as “make it work for me.”

·      Re (“he says”, “she says”, “they say”, or ”it is said”) – Tacked on to the end of a sentence to express third-person ownership of a statement. Very handy when gossiping.

·      Tension (“stress”). This is one of many English words that have infiltrated the Nepali language in even the most remote places. Many are what you might expect, being recent arrivals to Nepal (e.g. “laptop”, “beer”, “HIV”, “bus”), but others seem like they ought to have been developed ages ago, like “coat” and “table”. In addition, the word “brush” is pronounced slightly differently when describing a hairbrush and toothbrush.

·      Danger (“cool” or “snazzy”) – A number of English words have taken on new meanings in Nepali. Some students once commented that my bicycle helmet was “danger,” (even though a helmet is the exact opposite of dangerous, and besides isn’t cool looking at all.

·      Ke garne? Este ho (“What to do? That’s the way it is”) – I’ve spoken a lot about this phrase in previous posts, but these two sentences (which may be uttered together or independently) reflect Nepalis’ passive acceptance of difficulties that may arise. I hear these phrases almost every day.

Fight for Your Right

It’s been awhile since my last post. On August 24, a few drops of tea spilled on my laptop keyboard, instantly disabling the arrow keys and gradually spreading up to the Shift key. With the computer recognizing the Shift key as constantly being held down, I couldn’t enter my password and, lacking access to an external keyboard, couldn’t log-in. Unable to restart the computer (because I was still signed in), I let its battery run out before trying to reboot. But now the computer wouldn’t even turn on. I’d have to go to Kathmandu (which, for reasons I’ll explain, wasn’t and still isn’t possible for me), and even there the prospect of getting it fixed was uncertain.

Two weeks later, while playing Sudoku on my iPhone, the screen suddenly faded to black. With music still playing audibly, I figured it was a simple display malfunction and could be fixed. During a lull in the bandhs, I visited the bazaar, but the cell phone shops didn’t have the parts to repair an iPhone 4 and weren’t sure they’d be able to get them. With no computer, phone, camera, books, or music, and no certainty of getting them back any time soon, I began to despair.

I traveled to another bazaar to try my luck there. An electronics store salesman pointed me to the only person he thought might be able to repair a Mac. After sitting for two full days with the computer technician while he disassembled and reassembled the internal components without success and scoured the internet for potential solutions, we succeeded in jumpstarting the computer by shorting the power pads. He wired an external power button for me, and with the purchase of an external keyboard, I had a working computer again. The verdict on the phone is still out.

On top of my electronics issues, following a productive first month and a half, the past two months at site have been excruciatingly slow. Because of relentless bandhs, I’ve been unable to bring in over a hundred Moringa oleifera trees from a nearby district. I’ve also been gearing up for a community-wide improved cookstove training, but the recipients have been extremely slow to make the bricks. We’ve had our Peace Corps Close of Service Conference postponed twice (originally planned for the beginning of September, it will now take place at the end of October) and we’ve had to reschedule our boy’s camp three times, the past two times when Peace Corps’ refused to grant us travel due to safety concerns. Each time these events have been pushed back, it’s left me with a week of unexpected free time, which is already in good supply in a rural village. With less than two months left in Nepal, I have neither the time nor energy to commit to devising new projects. I came back after the earthquake with specific goals and expectations—to discard these in favor of impromptu projects seems nonsensical. So I, along with most of the volunteers in my group, have been in a holding pattern.

A few nights ago, I was complaining to my host brother about my lack of productivity—these days, I said, I just wake up, do laundry, eat, and sleep. Why should I stay here? I asked. He laughed, and replied, now you’re truly Nepali. Suddenly, it dawned on me that I’ve been facing the same want of opportunity that drives so many young men to go abroad. And indeed, in two more months, I will leave for the United States.

While I’ve been bored at site, Nepal has rarely seen so much excitement. On September 20, the country made history by promulgating its constitution by a vote of 507/25, with some assembly members abstaining. The historic day was celebrated by many, but some were unsatisfied with the result. Minority and ethnic groups, including the Madhesi, Tharu, Limbu, Magar, and Sherpa, have been demanding proportional political representation and states drawn along ethnic lines. There are new calls for protesting bandhs and conciliatory talks almost daily.

The bandhs in Nepal’s Terai, the southern flatlands, have now passed the fifty-day mark, and the organizing leaders are continuing to call for them to intensify. Over 40 people have died in clashes between police and protesters in Nepal’s southern belt, including an incident in which police were set alightand hacked apart with sickles and axes. Many of these areas are under police-enforced curfews that prohibit movement and assembly during most of the day. The bandhs have struck anenormous blow to the financial system; some have estimated that these bandhs have been worse for Nepal’s economy than the April earthquake. India, who “noted” rather than “welcomed” Nepal’s new constitution as other countries did, has begun to enforce a sort of blockade along the border, choking off the flow of essential goods into Nepal. Between the earthquake and bandhs, schools have lost over 50 academic days out of the year; an estimated 3.2 million students have been kept out of school by bandhs.

While bandhs have been crippling to many of Nepal’s industries, people are still able to travel (though with some risk) by night bus, motorbike, police escort, and airplane—all of which Peace Corps Volunteers in Nepal are banned from using. In other words, while the rest of the country is making do and muddling through, we have been stranded in our districts or, in a few cases, in Kathmandu.

Peace Corps Nepal has said that their hands are tied, that they are doing everything they can, and that they are “hopeful” the protests will end soon. This seemingly bottomless hope may have succored their consciences over the past fifty days, but it’s done little for volunteers in the field who have been waiting for permission to travel anywhere beyond the nearest bazaar. This wait-and-see, helpless-hoping-that-things-improve attitude has been completely ineffective as a strategy, if it could be called a strategy at all. Nepal has experienced over a thousand bandhs in the past five years; like it or not, they are a part of life here, and Nepalis make do. So far all Peace Corps Nepal has done is prove that when you tie your own hands there is remarkably little you can do.

This past week, Peace Corps’ ineptitude came to a head when they forced us to cancel our boys’ camp, citing U.S. Embassy recommendations that the Terai roads were not safe. They ignored our information from transportation offices and locals who without incident had been traveling the particular road we needed to travel; furthermore, recent news reports had been localized to clashes between police and protesters in the eastern part of the country around Kathmandu, neither in the Midwest where we live nor along the road we were proposing to travel. That a bandh had been declared throughout all of the Terai—even though no one was enforcing it here—was enough for Peace Corps Nepal to shut down our travel and call off the camp we’d been planning since February. We are still waiting until the so-called bandh, which is not an issue in our area, is “called off.”

Apparently, it is not Peace Corps but the U.S. Embassy who determines whether it is safe for volunteers to travel in Nepal. This was never indicated during our training, nor has staff mentioned it until this past week. Despite being prohibited from entering both the U.S. Embassy (except for the earthquake, when Peace Corps Volunteers took over many of its essential tasks to keep things running smoothly) and Phora Durbar, the “American Club” that houses a pool, commissary, and playing fields, we are nevertheless under the Embassy’s jurisdiction when it comes to safety and security. We get all the restrictions and none of the perks of U.S. government employees working abroad.

Instead of supporting volunteers in the work they do, Peace Corps Nepal has assumed the role of overprotective foster parents. Even though we signed all manner of waivers absolving Peace Corps of responsibility for our safety, we are bound to its strict rules and subject to disciplinary action and administrative separation should we break them, say by riding a motorcycle or traveling at night. Does your employer place restrictions on how you travel?

Safety, Peace Corps says, is its number one concern. If that’s the case, perhaps the safest thing is for Peace Corps to cease to exist. There will always be some risk in sending Americans into developing countries with volatile politics, temperamental tectonics, inadequate infrastructure, and a host of other perils. At some point, Peace Corps needs to take its hands off the wheel and leave it to the volunteers to determine the risks they are willing to take. Otherwise, it risks the tarnishing of its image by those who ought to be champions of its cause.

Political ABCs: Assemblies, Bandhs, and Constitutions

Aside from earthquakes, avalanches, floods, and other natural disasters, Nepal has made the international news several times in the past few years as it tries to lay the foundation of its government. Getting a handle on the current situation requires some understanding of Nepali history, geography, politics, and culture. I’m still trying to understand it, and I’ve lived here for almost two years.

Currently, Nepal can be divided in several ways. To the north are the Himalaya, below that the Mahabharat (Middle Hills), and in the south the Terai (plains). For administrative purposes, the country has been divided into five development regions: Far West, Midwest, West, Central and East. These are further subdivided in 14 zones, comprised of a total of 75 districts, 240 sectors, and over 3,000 village development committees (VDCs) across the country. For example, I live in Shreegaun VDC, in the fifth sector of Dang District, Rapti Zone, in the Midwestern Region of Nepal. Also, keep in mind that within the country, which is about the size of Tennessee, there are 123 languages and 125 castes and ethnic groups. Each area is a distinct combination of topography, climate, biodiversity, and culture.

Now for some political history, which I’ve tried to keep as brief as possible. For millennia, Nepal was ruled by monarchs. In 1765, Prithivi Naryan Shah embarked on an expedition to unify the country, which had previously been divided into small independent kingdoms. The Shahs ruled until 1848, when a military leader named Jung Bahadur Rana took advantage of factionalism within the royal family to overthrow the Shah dynasty, killing hundreds of administrators and officials loyal to the Shahs. In 1951, Tribhuwan Shah, backed by emerging pro-democratic movements, deposed the Rana rulers and instituted a cabinet system of government. The 1990s saw a series of reforms establishing a multiparty democracy within the framework of a constitutional monarchy.

In 1996, the United Nepal Communist Party (Maoist), capitalizing on growing dissatisfaction among the general population with the lack of reforms from the democratically elected government, launched a reform movement to the west of Kathmandu. Maoist militants attacked police outposts and district headquarters, establishing provisional governments at the district level in several locations.

In the midst of this, in 2001, the Nepali crown prince killed ten members of the royal family, including the king, queen, and himself. In the aftermath of Nepali royal massacre, the former king’s brother, Gyanendra Bir Bikram Shah, assumed the throne.

Into the early 2000s, the Maoist movement continued to gain ground and minds until the Maoists finally declared a blockade of Kathmandu in December 2004. Forty days later, King Gyanendra dissolved the government, declared a state of emergency, and instituted martial law, citing the government’s incapacity to address the Maoist insurgency. A mass movement restored the government the following year and initiated a peace movement calling for an end to the 10-year-long armed conflict. After three weeks of protests organized by a seven-party alliance and the Maoists, the king allowed parliament to reconvene in April 2006. In November, the seven-party alliance and the Maoists signed a comprehensive peace agreement, ending the war. All in all, more than 15,000 people were killed and 100,000-150,000 people displaced as a result of the Nepalese Civil War, which Maoists call the People’s War.

In January 2007, an interim constitution was drafted, stipulating an interim unicameral (single-body) parliament. At the end of the year, the seven-party alliance and the Maoists agreed to abolish the monarchy and declare Nepal a federal democratic republic. Constituent Assembly (CA) elections were held in April 2008 to devise a permanent constitution, with the Maoist party carrying the majority. After failing to meet their May 2010 deadline, the CA extended its own deadline a year. When this deadline, too, passed unmet, the prime minister dissolved the CA. In November 2013, two months after I arrived in Nepal, a second CA election was held. The Nepali Congress party won a majority of seats, but the Communist Party of Nepal (Unified Marxist-Leninist) (CPN-UML) and United Communist Party – Maoist (UCPN-M) also secured a sizable number of seats. In total, thirty parties are represented among the Nepali second CA’s 575 members, which took office in January 2014 and was given a year to draft a constitution.

January 22 2015, the deadline for the second CA draft, came and went as well. Finally, on July 2, the CA published a draft, and all parliamentary members returned to their constituents to receive feedback. These events, while well attended, seemed to be more of a formality. According to my friends who attended, many people raised concerns outside the scope of the constitution. Those who didn’t get a turn to speak gave written suggestions, which were piled up in a stack of papers over a foot high. Apparently, some members of a faction of the Maoist party arrived armed with sticks and threw a beer bottle at the police. Still, at least major seven major issues were raised across the country.

Since Nepal has been Nepal, political power has been centralized in Kathmandu. Nepal’s first elections weren’t held until the 1950s, and there haven’t been local elections in the past two decades. Aside from those elected to parliament, all other politicians and administrators are appointees. In the forming of the constitution, contentious issues include the number and borders of the provinces, organization of the electoral system and judiciary, the process of citizenship, the representation of castes in government and business, monarchy vs. republic, parliamentary vs. presidential democracy, federalism vs. decentralization, and a secular vs. Hindu state, among others. For instance, many argue that Nepal, with its 81% Hindu population, should be denominated as a Hindu nation in the constitution. Strident opposition has come from religious minorities, mostly Buddhists, Muslims, and Christians. In the current draft, proselytizing is outlawed.

Earlier this month, the CA reconvened in Kathmandu to finalize the constitution. On August 10, plans were announced to divide the country into six provinces. Protests arose in various districts: some objected to being split in half by the proposed demarcation; others opposed separating from particular neighboring districts. In Surkhet, where eleven Peace Corps Volunteers are posted, two people were killed and six seriously injured when police opened fire on demonstrators who had defied a curfew and were vandalizing government buildings and politicians’ homes. Opposition parties announced a series of protests lasting through August 17, including rallies, torch rallies, and bandhs.

Bandhs are unique to Nepal, and don’t have a good English translation. Political parties, unions, and locals use bandhs, or “closures” as a form of protest to pressure the government to fulfill their demands. A bandh consists of crowds taking to the streets and preventing all traffic from passing. This includes cars, buses, motorcycles, and sometimes even bicycles, from 5 AM to 5 PM. Only vehicles with blue license plates, which designate diplomatic vehicles, are allowed on the roads. Demonstrators been known to bombard violators’ vehicles with rocks and occasionally set them on fire.

In the meantime, the country shuts down. Typically, only hotels and hospitals remain open; everything else—shops, schools, businesses banks, and government offices—close. Try to imagine the implications of an all-out ban on travel. Farmers can’t sell their produce nor purchase pesticides to protect diseased crops, like my friend Tanka who has hundreds of tomato plants currently suffering from blight. People lose access to food and money. Recharge cards, which are how Nepalis replenish money on their cell phones, can run out, hindering communication. Shop owners lose income. Students are prevented from studying. For each day of nationwide bandh, it is estimated that Nepal directly loses 1.8 billion rupees (i.e. $1.8 million) of its GDP, totaling a loss of 0.6-2.2% of its economic output in any given year. The indirect cost is likely much higher. Can you imagine such a protest being permitted to happen in the U.S.? People wouldn’t stand for it.

Health services are also suspended or limited. The other day, two pregnant women in labor were traveling to Tulsipur in a jeep, as all the ambulances in the area had been unavailable. Demonstrators threw rocks at the car and demanded that the women nevertheless use an ambulance, as other vehicles were not permitted to travel. Only after the police arrived, finding the women crying in the back seat on the verge of childbirth, was the vehicle allowed to continue on its way. People who need to travel to Kathmandu or abroad for specialized care are forced to delay treatment.

Bandhs are often called for a day, but can last indefinitely—a week, two weeks, even a month. Occasionally, the organizers will schedule bandhs in various districts at different times, like this past January when, after returning from my family trip to Cambodia, I was stuck in Kathmandu for four days due to bandhs in districts along my way back to site. The atmosphere in Kathmandu was eerie—during the bandh, not a single vehicle could be seen on the normally bustling streets of Nepal’s capital. In total, over two dozen nationwide bandhs have been called since I arrived in Nepal.

The current bandh has indefinitely delayed my selection of participants for our upcoming boy’s development camp, upset my plans to bring Moringa trees, asparagus rootstock, and strawberry plants to my community, left me strapped for cash, and made me feel pretty fed up with Nepal.