I climb up on the roof, all the way to the water tower as I usually do whenever I have a moment to myself. I gaze at the familiar foothills of the Himalayas hiding behind thick grey rain clouds. A light speck here and there in the green hills indicates human habitation, and they are about to catch hell.
Then I look at the vacant lot next door. There used to be a house sitting there. It was a primitive construction of wood and brick, a cut above being a shanty, and it housed a huge poor family there. The house was eventually razed, the family was probably evicted, and now it’s weeds (weed, literally, as dozens of wild marijuana plants are shooting out of the dirt) and assorted other shrubbery.
Lord, the place is teaming with mongooses. I found two dead mongooses around our yard this past week, their carcasses picked to death by the crows. One of these buggers probably nearly killed my cat. She came home one evening with a sizable chunk removed from where her upper left leg is, and she withdrew for a bit, fully aware that she had almost bought the farm. That mongoose must have sold its life dearly. Hard to say who killed the mongooses. We can discount the locals, the reason being that they will slice up one of their own caste with knives in a public ritual before laying a finger on an animal. It’s a safe guess that the cats probably took care of them, and there are a few around here, fearless creatures that have learned to fight and defend their turf. I am glad I don’t have to bury my cat here.
What of Nepal, then? I have learned a lot more after two years here. Another culture, another race, the do’s and don’ts of the place, the castes, interaction among the locals. I am grateful for my time here. I have come to a part of the world I could have only dreamed of earlier in life. The travel here was superb, although virtually non-existent after the second child’s birth. There were plenty of National Geographic moments here, things that defied wisdoms you had long established for yourself and your own little world. There was poverty in this country I haven’t seen anywhere, which will humble any human being not living by the rule of the jungle. I have seen my son grow into a three year old, and Kathmandu has become the only home he has ever known.
Most notably, I have learned about life in a fringe state. Political upheaval and violence have always been, and continue to be, a possibility here, and the uncertainty from day to day can and will wreak havoc on any plans you might have made. Nepal is a country that has hosted civilization far longer than we can imagine, but its government is more like a baby crying its people to sleep. It leaves the locals with a sense of crippling disbelief, and in many faces you still see resignation. There is no doubt there is still trouble ahead here, and the baby might need another diaper change.
Unfortunately, for all of Nepal’s merits, I have to sadly admit that I never quite connected with this country or its people. Part of that is circumstantial. I am a father of two now, which means the weekends you thought you could put aside for yourself will be reserved for your kids instead. That doesn’t bother me one bit. I love spending time with my kids, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, not the highest mountains or the greenest valleys.
But there’s more to it. I never connected quite with the Nepali people, their language, or the more delicate features of their culture. It’s possible I have become travel weary, that learning a new culture and language isn’t all that anymore, although I sincerely doubt that. We look forward to our time back in the west this summer, but we will also get the old itch to get going again. Sadly, the itch for Nepal is no longer there.
I still welcome the experience and wish Nepal nothing but the best. Nepal certainly deserves much better.
Then I look at the vacant lot next door. There used to be a house sitting there. It was a primitive construction of wood and brick, a cut above being a shanty, and it housed a huge poor family there. The house was eventually razed, the family was probably evicted, and now it’s weeds (weed, literally, as dozens of wild marijuana plants are shooting out of the dirt) and assorted other shrubbery.
Lord, the place is teaming with mongooses. I found two dead mongooses around our yard this past week, their carcasses picked to death by the crows. One of these buggers probably nearly killed my cat. She came home one evening with a sizable chunk removed from where her upper left leg is, and she withdrew for a bit, fully aware that she had almost bought the farm. That mongoose must have sold its life dearly. Hard to say who killed the mongooses. We can discount the locals, the reason being that they will slice up one of their own caste with knives in a public ritual before laying a finger on an animal. It’s a safe guess that the cats probably took care of them, and there are a few around here, fearless creatures that have learned to fight and defend their turf. I am glad I don’t have to bury my cat here.
What of Nepal, then? I have learned a lot more after two years here. Another culture, another race, the do’s and don’ts of the place, the castes, interaction among the locals. I am grateful for my time here. I have come to a part of the world I could have only dreamed of earlier in life. The travel here was superb, although virtually non-existent after the second child’s birth. There were plenty of National Geographic moments here, things that defied wisdoms you had long established for yourself and your own little world. There was poverty in this country I haven’t seen anywhere, which will humble any human being not living by the rule of the jungle. I have seen my son grow into a three year old, and Kathmandu has become the only home he has ever known.
Most notably, I have learned about life in a fringe state. Political upheaval and violence have always been, and continue to be, a possibility here, and the uncertainty from day to day can and will wreak havoc on any plans you might have made. Nepal is a country that has hosted civilization far longer than we can imagine, but its government is more like a baby crying its people to sleep. It leaves the locals with a sense of crippling disbelief, and in many faces you still see resignation. There is no doubt there is still trouble ahead here, and the baby might need another diaper change.
Unfortunately, for all of Nepal’s merits, I have to sadly admit that I never quite connected with this country or its people. Part of that is circumstantial. I am a father of two now, which means the weekends you thought you could put aside for yourself will be reserved for your kids instead. That doesn’t bother me one bit. I love spending time with my kids, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, not the highest mountains or the greenest valleys.
But there’s more to it. I never connected quite with the Nepali people, their language, or the more delicate features of their culture. It’s possible I have become travel weary, that learning a new culture and language isn’t all that anymore, although I sincerely doubt that. We look forward to our time back in the west this summer, but we will also get the old itch to get going again. Sadly, the itch for Nepal is no longer there.
I still welcome the experience and wish Nepal nothing but the best. Nepal certainly deserves much better.
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