** All photos in this blog from Ajaya Shah**

You may, or may not know, I chose to take last semester off from grad school because I wanted to stay in Nepal to support and experience the Constitutional Assembly elections planned for November. Unfortunately, they were postpone, no one was sure if they would actually happen, and the time came for me to return home. Finally, a new date was set for April 10th, and as that date approached, it looked like the election might actually happen. I, along with the entire country and a large part of the international community held my breath that it would be a peaceful and fair election.

A Guard at the Udayapur Polling Station

As I sit in Berkeley juggling my school responsibilities and collecting reports about Nepal from the news and via email exchanges with Nepali friends, I have become increasingly inspired and excited. Aside from a few violent incidents, the elections were relatively peaceful, and are being commended by international observers, even being called “remarkable and well executed,” by the Carter Center.

So much of my time in Nepal was characterized by an increasing appreciation for things I took for granted at home… the rule of law, good roads, infrastructure, voting... As I look at the pictures my friends have been sending me of election day I’m reminded of that, yet again.

Getting Her Ballot

Despite a slew of obstacles, including a very real threat of potential violence, people still lined up and waited for hours to vote. When they finally did get to vote, with the simplest of voting technology, they were given a ballot not full of names of candidates or parties, but of symbols to accommodate the large rates of illiteracy throughout the country and to make the process accessible to all.

In fact, a full 60% of the country turned out to vote – despite the rigid rules about voting in your home village, regardless of where you currently live. Even more inspiring is that incredibly, 51% of those who turned out were women! Not only does this validate all the work, done by so many people to try to empower women and help them understand the importance of their role in the process, but it serves as a testament to a profound shift in women’s participation in the public sphere.

The Lines To Vote

The results are slowly coming in, with surprising results as the Maoists (the party who wages civil war for 10 years) seems to be wining by a significant majority. But so far, it seems those results are considered accurate, and are not being widely questioned. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that the grace which has encompassed this election so far is able to continue through the publication of the final results, and even further over the next few years as Nepal writes it’s new constitution.

I’m still holding my breath, but for the moment, I want to share my excitement and say: “Congratulations, Nepal!”

Voting

Crowd At the Polling Station

NESPEC (Nepal Social Development and People’s Empowerment Center) is a human rights organization at the core and takes advantage of any opportunity to help the people of Nepal learn about human rights. Thus as Universal Children’s Day approached, they geared up to hold a major event. Extending my final stay in Gaighat a few days longer than expected allowed me to participate.

Instead of participating in a “fluffy” and centralized district headquarter program, NESPEC wanted to use the opportunity to reach as many people as possible at the grassroots level and took their event out of the more developed district headquarters and into the surrounding villages. The program was held in the centrally located village of Harrdiya, and was attended by children from 3 other the neighboring villages that NESPEC transported in via tractor and jeep so they could participate and be honored.

Children from the villages

The plan for the day was to have a rally, hold a program with inspiring speeches, and present school supplies and uniforms to some of the neediest children from each village. The event was coordinated using the school and community based “Child Clubs” that NESPEC had previously established throughout the 4 villages. These clubs are run by child-only boards supported by an adult sponsor, build leadership in students, and provide enrichment activities ranging from chess, to cultural performances, to sports, to conflict resolution. They also serve as a point of contact to provide support directly to the children, their families, and their communities.

Even though I knew the overall plan for the day, it turned out to be unlike anything I could have anticipated. In the morning all the organization’s staff and most of the volunteers, in addition to the local reporters who had just been briefed, totaling around 30, piled into (and on top of!) a rented jeep to make the hour-long trek to Harridya. Once there we took over a grass-covered space in the middle of the village and began setting it up. While we moved logs, set up a few chairs, hung a banner, and did a sound check with the bullhorn, groups of children started arriving.

They emerged out of the dust

All of a sudden there was the sound of chanting and clapping off in the distance and organized chaos ensued. A local Harridya school emerged from a cloud of dust generated by their stamping feet and teachers of students from the surrounding villages quickly organized their classes into marching units to fall in line. The result was an inspiring 45 minute march throughout the village of Harrdiya with children chanting and carrying a variety of signs with inspirational slogans in English and Nepali.

The last vehicles full of children from the neighboring villages joined in somewhere en route, and upon returning to the clearing and settling everyone down, a program for apx. 450 children began. Following speeches by local leaders and human rights activists was the climax of the event.

The attentive audience

Forty of the neediest and most deserving children from the 4 villages, coincidently mainly coming from marginalized, oppressed, and indigenous groups were presented with 2 sets of uniform clothes and school supplies. Of particular note to me, as a former teacher, was that these children had been selected to be honored by the child-run boards of each of the Child Clubs. The Child Clubs in turn were given a large bag full of sports equipment and educational goods to support their ongoing activities. The program was concluded with a speech by 13 year old 8th grader, Gita Kumari Khadka, who was the designated Chairwoman of the program.

Madam Chairwoman

After it all was over the feedback received from the press was unanimously positive. They commended NESPEC for running a truly innovative and meaningful program in the spirit of Universal Children’s Day – and particularly for taking on and successfully tackling the challenges involved in holding a program in the villages, away from the amenities and ease provided by the District center.

As for me, I had never before heard of Universal Children’s Day, and I can guarantee that I will never again forget it!

"Insipring Nepal's Future Leaders"

If you would like to support a new initiative for empowering women being launched by this great organization please follow this link to learn about the program and make a tax-deductible donation: http://www.change.org/nonprofit_page/nonprofit_projects/54285?project_id=26636

At some point during the Dashain Festival in Gaighat, a friend said to me, “you think this is fun, you should see Tihar! That’s the most fun festival of all!” At which point I gently punched him in the arm and growled, “So then why did I schlep all the way out here from Kathmandu for Dashain?!?!” “Dashain is the GREAT festival of Nepal, you should be here, but it’s not as fun as Tihar” he replied, and with a smile continued, “Don’t worry. You’ll just have to come back. Then you can see the great Madheshi festival of Chaot too!”

So, in the middle of November with a few days off from the Center for Women and Politics and our efforts to organize Madheshi Women (see my earlier blogs) my soon to be adopted brother Pukhar and I jumped on a night bus for yet another 17-should’ve-been-9 hour journey to Gaighat.

A cow decorated as part of the Tihar celebration

Tihar, also called Dipavali in India, is a Hindu Festival of Lights that I think, at it’s essence, can be summarized to be about prosperity. This festival lasts 5 days and celebrates crows, dogs, and cows (coincidently is the only major festival in Nepal that doesn’t involve the sacrifice of animals), the goddess Lakshmi, and ultimately the bond between brothers and sisters.

I celebrated the Lakshmi Puja in Gaighat, with my friend Ajaya and his family as he assured me the sight would be the most beautiful in town. Lakshmi Puja is the night when Lakshmi the goddess of wealth and prosperity is worshiped and invited into homes and business with beautiful oil lamps placed all around the house and delicious and rich foods prepared and laid out for her.

Oil lamps decorating the porch

The next morning we traveled to Harridya where everyone had agreed would be the most fun place to celebrate the latter part of Tihar, and that night I learned what all the fuss was about. Turns out there is this great musical tradition in Nepal that is still vibrant in the villages called “Deu See Rae.” Essentially, this tradition entails young people organizing themselves into Deu-see clubs. During Tihar they take a few drums, any additional instruments they can find (and even stereos these days), and turn into roving performance troops going house to house, until sunrise, performing the songs they’ve practiced, singing songs impromptu ones about the people whose homes they’re visiting, and playfully extorting contributions of money or food from the inhabitants they drag from slumber. In exchange for these contributions of food and money the deu-see troupe blesses the family and the house, and ask the gods to bestow them with blessings and prosperity. I, of course, was having too much fun to remember to bring my camera along at night, so the picture below is of a younger deu-see troupe that came by during the day.

Neighborhood girls performing Deu See in Harridya VDC

The last day of Tihar is “Bhai Tika,” or the day when brothers and sisters celebrate their bond, promise to care for each other always, and the sister prays for a long life for her brother (no, it isn’t traditionally reciprocated!). This ceremony involves sisters making a gorgeous plate of offerings of food and small gifts to give to their brothers, making them flower garlands, and decorating them with a colorful tika (a ceremonial power placed on the forehead). Brothers then give their sisters blessings in return and in addition to malas and a tika, give them money.

One of the families that I have gotten close to is a joint family with 7 sons and no daughters. The two brothers in the family that I had spent the most time with, Pukhar and Hari, and I had previously begun referring to each other as brother and sister, however on this day (with the help of their aunt who did all the cooking for me) we ceremonially formalized our relationship.

With Tihar over, the last remaining major festival was just around the corner….

Me giving the Tika to Hari, with Bisal and Pukhar to the right

For more information about this festival check out this link: http://www.nepalvista.com/travel/tihar.html

Chaot is a festival that is particularly important within Nepal’s Madheshi community who originated from the plains that stretch across the south of the country called “the Terai.” Additionally, bodies of water (and particularly rivers) are very important during this, and many Hindu ceremonies. As Gaighat is in the inner part of the Terai, and situated on the Triuga River, it is a large gathering place for people participating in the Chaot festival and I was excited to join the Shah family for the occasion.

The purpose of Chaot is to worship the Sun to please it and to ensure it continues rising every morning and sustaining life. The festival only lasts about a day and a half from sunset to sunrise 2 days later, with the most important point stretching from sunset to sun rise over the last night.

In the days leading up to Chaot my female friends jokingly (or maybe not?) complained about all the work required in the preparations for the festival. Then in the few days before and during the festival there was indeed a flurry of preparations as we (i.e. they with a touch of help from me) prepared at least types of 10 traditional foods, including grinding a variety of grains by hand with traditional grinding mills.

The spread of offerings laid out by the bank of the river at sunset during Chaot

After a few long days of work around 3:00 in the afternoon everyone got dressed up - the women decked out in their finest saris and adorned in their most extravagant jewelry. Then laden with food, vessels, and offerings we all tromped down to the river, along which spots had been claimed by the hundreds and hundreds of families that lined the sandy bank and had unpacked their offerings and laid out alters. The offerings placed on the alter to the Sun included many prepared foods, milk, oil, clarified butter, fruits, coconuts, grains, and lots of oil lamps.

As sunset grew near the men rolled up their pant legs and the women gathered up their skirts and waded into the river to begin praying, offerings in hand. One person per family was required to do an extensive fasting during this festival, and the designated person also was tasked with holding each of the offerings from the alter up to the Sun to make sure it had seen the offerings.

The crowd in the river praying at sunset

Once the sun set, most people headed for home, leaving the young men of each family to camp on the banks of the river over the next few hours keeping the oil lamps lit, keeping animals away from the food, and playing cards until everyone returned before sunrise the next morning.

Somehow at 4am without the aid of any alarm Archana (pictured below), the 24-year old mother of the family with whom I was staying switched on all the lights in the where we slept. It was time to again began the beautifying process - much less fun at this cold and dark hour - and make our way in the dark down to the river. We got there just before sunrise and joined the people wading in, covered in shawls and jackets to steel ourselves against the cold.

The Shah family and I praying at sunrise

The sunrise was less than climactic as the horizon was covered by a haze of gray clouds. Yet we waited, and the prayers continued, and suddenly out of nowhere a glowing orange orb emerged from the mist and hovered low in the sky. After the appearance of the sun and the requisite prayers were finished the official ceremony ended and the feast began. The gorgeous spread of remaining offerings, having been feasted upon by the Sun, were now available for human consumption. And consumed they were! The remainder of the day was spent lazily eating, napping, and appreciating the sunshine that finally and fully broke through the haze and gave us a beautiful warm day.

All in all, I have to say that it was a dramatic and fulfilling end to an incredible festival season.

Not bad for 6am! From left to right: Archana, her mother in-law, and her sister-in law Ranjana

I had an amazing opportunity to join my friends from NESPEC as they traveled for a few days to the village of Siddipur, a relatively remote village situated at the base of the Himalayan foothills. The purpose of the trip was for NESPEC’s president Arjun, Project Coordinator Ajaya, and Social Mobilizers Regana and Sundar to do some initial work for a new project on Food Security and Land Rights they are implementing through a partnership with ActionAid.

Siddipur Market

The village of Siddipur, contains 603 households, is centered around a small strip of shops called the “market,” and sparsely fans out from there. The people we encountered were warm, welcoming, and reacted very fondly to the delegation from NESPEC who had implemented a “safe-drinking water” program there several years before and is one of the few NGOs or governmental organizations that has made an effort to reach out to the isolated community. In addition to their general gratitude for the commitment of the members of NESPEC, the people of Siddipur exemplified the hospitality that Nepalis are famous for.

Distance-wise Siddipur is not that far from the district headquarter in Gaighat, but due to the challenges of travel and communication it is quite isolated. Though the distance is only 30 miles by road, the fastest time by bus is 5 hours to the nearest town followed by an hour long walk over gravel pits and through a river. If you are willing to travel off road on a motorcycle you can make it in 3 hours, but you have to cross a major tributary without the aid of a bridge. Once in Siddipur, there is no electricity and phone contact is through a combination mobile and short-wave system dish systems. As a result of these difficulties, there are few development projects implemented in Siddipur by governmental offices or NGOs. It is for this reason that NESPEC chose the village as one of the sites for their new program.

Here's how you cross a river on a motorcycle without a bridge

The right to own land is a very fundamental issue in Nepal, and intimately connected with food security as the majority of Nepal’s population survives on subsistence agriculture. Farmers grow products that are diverse as possible, eating whatever is in season, and selling the excess to make money to pay for other household essentials. As a result of the subsistence way of life there is still an established barter system in parts of Nepal and it is not uncommon for people outside of the major cities to pay for services they have received with produce, grains, or small animals.

If one does not own land on which to produce, the options are to “lease” land to cultivate or to work as a day laborer on another’s land (usually getting paid with a percentage of the crop produced as opposed to cash). Such arrangements are feudal-like in nature and have enormous potential for mostly better educated and higher caste land owners to take advantage of poorer, less educated, and often lower caste workers.

Of the landless farmers Buttia are the best off, having a lease arrangement that they cultivate the land as they like and later pay 50% of the crop to the land owner. Haliya, are mere laborers who can be paid in crops or in rupees, as decided as the landlord and often have arrangements that can be as skewed by as much as 95% for the landlord and only 5% for the farmer. As such, the poor, lower caste, and indigenous landless farmers must work at least twice as hard as landowners (in the best scenario) to feed their families, let alone generate income from the excess they may produce. Thus, in working to alleviate the poverty pervading Nepal it is essential to address the issue of land rights for the ultra poor.

We arrived in Siddipur to conduct the project kick-off meeting after a 3 hour motorcycle ride that would give any dirt bike course a run for it’s money. The participants of the meeting were representatives from the various areas of the village (small population but covering a relatively large area) and the purpose was to explain the focus of the project, how it is funded, and to create a committee that would spear-head the effort locally. The participants asked thoughtful questions to clarify the coming program and independently established a diverse and inclusive committee to organize the local land rights effort. With that, our full-day meeting was concluded.

Since it would be pitch black by 5:30 and we were all thoroughly exhausted from our motorcycle trip over dirt roads and through rivers, sand dunes, and gravel pits, we decided to stay the night and make the return trip early the next morning after resting and with full light. We had a quick pre-sunset tour of Siddipur and prepared to settle down for the evening.

Siddipur during sunset

As we waited for our “dahl bhat” dinner to be cooked at a local eatery (which can often take some time as the rice, dahl, and vegetable curry is made to order), we sat by the light of kerosene lamps and chatted with some youngsters who had started a local club, The Dipscika Youth Club. The shared about the cultural programs they had been developing to give local youth a focus for their energy and the fundraising activities they held during the recently finished Tihar/Deepavali holiday (see the next blog for a snapshot of this festival). With a little encouragement several of the brave youngsters practiced their English with me, and we were even serenaded with a “sentimental Nepali song” by, Navaraj Rai, one of the vocally talented youngsters, who also happened to be the chair of the youth club.

After our delicious and belly-warming “dahl bhat,” we stumbled through the dark to the home of Hira Devi Rai, one of the local villagers who was putting us up for the night. We climbed up a ladder to the second floor of her home and after several of us hit our heads on the low beams despite warnings, found the rooms where we would sleep. Having been given the most luxurious beds in the house we nestled onto our wooden palates covered w/ blankets and thin cotton pads while Hira and her family prepared beds for themselves on the dirt floor of the kitchen downstairs. When we shortly turned off our lantern we could look through the unpaned window to see a brilliant sky of stars, shining fiercely, ummuted from the glow of electric lights or a moon.

Hira and her two kids and me

We awoke in the dark to the sound of roosters and slowly shed our covers. As we drank steaming hot tea provided by our hostess and prepared to make the return trip to Gaighat we received an invitation to be guests of honor at a farewell program the Youth Club wanted to hold in our honor. I had heard of the Nepali custom of treating guests like Gods, based on the belief that guests coming to your home to bring blessings, and thus should be worshiped. Though I have certainly been overwhelmed by the openness, and generosity of Nepalis (even those in the tourist business who should be trying to maximize their profits on tourists), I had certainly never experience the full extent of this custom…

NESPEC delegation being honored during the Farewell Program

In the harsh light of the early morning we found ourselves seated in the middle of the market’s sole road that had been converted into a performance space. A sound system, powered by a converted car battery, had been magically produced, and through crackling and more than intermittent feedback the program began. We were given plates of oranges, coconuts, and other sweets that are typically used as offerings when praying and were donned in flower garlands. Speeches by the leaders of the Youth Club were given, introducing us to the crowd, thanking us for overcoming a difficult journey to visit, expressing gratitude for the new relationships that were forming, and inviting us to quickly return. Then cultural dances were performed, songs were sung, and we were asked to give impromptu speeches about our impressions of the town.

Youth of Siddipur performing a cultural program

With the end of the program and handshakes all around, the 5 of us all piled onto our 2 motorbikes to return to Gaighat. The irony is that through this all, I felt like we were the ones who should be thanking them – not the other way around!

In the middle of the fall festival season comes the biggest of Nepali festivals. During the 10 days of it’s duration all offices and businesses shut down and people travel to their homes from all corners of the country (and in some cases the world). Time is spent with family and friends, eating a lot of food, and engaging in all sorts of unique rituals and ceremonies. It is such an important time that even all the groups in the Terai that have been causing a ruckus for months issued public statements that they would not do anything to impede travel during this time.

One of the best parts of experiencing this festival was that it coincided with the time my parents came to Nepal to pay a visit. I had promised all my friends in Gaighat that I would return to spend Dashain with them when I moved to Kathmandu. So amidst more adventure than I have energy to recount, the three of us worked our way through Gaighat to spend the peak of the festival in Harriya. It was “quite a memorable event” as members of my extended family in Gaighat/Harriya like to say.

Essentially the whole reason for this massive festival (and massive it is) is to celebrate the Hindu goddess Durga for saving the world from evil by killing demons and keep her happy and ready in case she needs to do it again. Temporary shrines and temples are erected all over Nepal and it is common to depict the scene of Durga (with the assistance of the Lion she travels on) killing a demon.

Man inspecting the life-size portrayal of Durga in a Gaighat Temple.

Though Durga is sometimes perceived as a benevolent protector she also has a blood-thirsty side when she gets angry. The key focus of the celebration becomes to keep her mollified and entails huge numbers of animals being sacrificed in her honor. Rumor has it that in Kathmandu alone 40,000 animals (goats, sheep, and water buffalo) are decapitated at the largest temples. Luckily for me, the tradition in the villages, and that we witnessed, is smaller in scale.

After buying a goat (or a smaller animal depending on economic circumstances) at some point over the summer, people care for and fatten it up, and then ceremonially behead it on the appropriate day. Though we arrived late into Harriya Arjun-dai (discussed in earlier blogs; the current President of NESPEC) was kind enough to postpone his family's ceremony so we could witness the affair in full.

Bisal Dahal (Arjun-dai's son) catching his breath after sacrificing a goat

After the brief ceremony was conducted and the goat’s head was swiftly removed with an axe the body was cleaned, skinned, quartered, and delicately dissected before being prepared in a variety of ways and feasted upon for days. (I’ve decided not to put the most graphic details or pictures on this site, but thanks to my Dad I have a complete series of the process so if you would like to see them, feel free to email me directly.)

The day after the goat-sacrificing comes the peak of the festival. On this day everyone wears new clothes and “takes tika” from all their older relations. “Taking tika” entails receiving a heartfelt blessing for happiness, health, prosperity, etc from older generations of relations as they place a paste of uncooked rice and red powder on your forehead, sprinkle flowers and leaves on your head, tuck a seedling behind your ear, and give you money (the amount tends to vary depending on how close they are to you). The younger you are the more you can make, and the older you are the more you spend!

Me receiving tika from Arjun-dai’s mother and father, 89 and 88 respectively.

People spend the next few days traveling around to visit relations and take tika, flying kites, gambling with cards, playing on huge bamboo swings erected especially for the festival, and eating more meat than they probably eat during the rest of the year combined. As the saying goes, “it was quite a memorable event.”

My mom and dad after receiving tika

[I couldn't think of topical images to accompany this blog. So instead I've inserted random pictures through the posting that attempt to capture the natural beauty I've witnessed during my time in Nepal.]

A hillside in Udayapur (the District of which Gaighat is the municipal center)

The past month or so in Nepali politics would give the most dramatic of soap operas a run for its money. Unfortunately, the outcome hasn’t been happy, the characters aren’t fictional, and the stakes are very high. The cliffhanger ending of last chapter is that on 5 October the elections scheduled for 22 November were officially canceled, supposedly to be rescheduled at some unidentified future date.

When I decided to stay in Nepal this semester instead of returning to the Goldman School it was for better or for worse. I was fully prepared for the election not to happen – there was even a precedent for this as the election had been previously postponed. However, despite bumps in the road things for the election were moving forward and the optimism in the air was tangible. The Election Commission had put out regulations, a crew of trainers was being prepared to fan across the country to educate the masses about election procedures, and the lists of candidates were about to be submitted by the parties. Somewhere along the way people began to believe that though it might not be of the highest quality, the election was going to happen.

Then suddenly the Maoist Party (which is a key part of the fragile 7-party interim government alliance) issued an ultimatum that if the 22 concerns they presented were not satisfactorily addressed by the other 6 parties they would pull out of the alliance and actually “agitate” AGAINST the election. No one believed they would really do this. After waging a revolution for 10+ years, signing a peace agreement, and participating in the 7-party government for less than a year, everyone assumed that they were using scare tactics as a negotiation technique. It turned out their threats were not hollow.

Sunrise over Anapurna 2 and Fishtail Mountains from Dhampusa (during a trek near Pokhara)

The Maoist pull-out from the government started unraveling the proverbial sweater. Ultimately, the election was postponed in order to keep the Maoists in the government, under the guise of creating more time to address their 22 point memorandum. (There is extensive analysis that neither the Maoists nor several other major political parties actually wanted the election because they will likely lose some of their parliamentary seats, but there is no way to directly confront that).

Civil society had been hoping that despite these power dynamics there was enough domestic and international pressure to ensure the elections would be held. It was heartbreaking to witness people realize that despite years of intense activism their efforts were again insufficient. All stakeholders from Nepali NGO workers to members of the International community have strained to regain their balance and figure out what to do next. Without anything tangible coming yet from the government (like a new date for the election) people have been struggling to find something new to organize themselves around…

Sunset on a field in Gaighat

Coincidently, the “great festival” of Dashain was held shortly after the election tragedy. On one hand this further delayed political reconciliation and there STILL is no fixed date for the election or a clear consensus between the Maoists and other parties. On the other hand it also gave everyone a 10-day break from the stress to enjoy time with their families and possibly take out some of their lingering frustration on their goats (see the coming blog for more detail).

A month later, the Dashain festivities have waned and people are getting back into the routine. Though people are still waiting for concrete information, they are also beginning to demonstrate the resilience they have surely developed from almost 2 decades of intense political turmoil. My colleagues and friends are reacting in various ways.

Gorgeous tree seen during the return from a trek to Rauta Pond, Udayapur

Sarita Giri and CWAP have identified a silver lining of more time to educate and organize Madheshi women in preparation for the election and we are charging full speed ahead to locate more funding. The folks at COCAP will be able to organize a General Assembly meeting of all their member organizations to develop a national strategy for continuing the call for elections and supporting them when they are held. My friends at NESPEC are free to re-focusing all of their energy on launching a new development project focused on children’s welfare through a partnership with ActionAid International and will return to their election-based activities once things are more concrete.

On a personal note, to try to grasp all that has happened I keep trying to imagine what would happen in the US if next October Congress suddenly determined that due to stalled negotiations between the Democrats and Republicans the November ’08 elections were going to be postponed, with the new date to be forthcoming. As much as I try to stretch my imagination, I still can’t seem to play it out – I just can’t see something like that actually happening in the US.

View of Pokhara and one of it's 6 lakes (Anapurna 2 and Fishtail barely visible in the clouds)

As much as we Americans grumble and are dissatisfied with our government and our society (from any of a number of perspectives) at least there are enough checks and balances to keep the wheels moving. That is something I’ve never taken pause to appreciate. More than anything, this past month has given me an opportunity to reflect (yet again) on what it means to live in a stable society and about all the associated benefits I so take for granted. Not to say that we should become complacent or stop working to bring about the change we feel is necessary. But perhaps doing so with an appreciation for the system we have to work within might make it easier to find common ground.

Though I’m incredibly sad that the elections won’t be happening as scheduled and concerned about the peace process in general, things certainly haven’t been lacking in stimulation or opportunity to educate myself. As frustrating as all the chaos has been, this has been a fascinating process to watch and I haven’t for a second wished I had returned to the US in August instead of extending my stay. For my remaining weeks (the countdown has started) I’ll be continuing to support the work of the organizations I’ve become connected with however I can, and hopefully spend a little more time doing work on the uterus prolapse issue.

I’ll also be keeping my fingers crossed that the elections will be rescheduled soon and that despite soap operatic twists and turn, Nepal will continue making progress to becoming the Democratic Republic that so many people here crave.

Rice paddies and fields treking toward Sarankot, near Pokhara

I’ve repeatedly heard a similar line of rhetoric in speeches given by members of marginalized groups in Nepal (of which there are many). It goes something like this: “We [insert group] have been historically excluded from the governance and power of Nepal. We’ve struggled to raise our voices and to be included– yet we are not being acknowledged. No one is going to hand us our rights. We must fight for them and we must seize them!”

Since first hearing that idea I’ve puzzled over what it means to “seize” one’s rights… Last week after spending a day watching events in the Eastern Terai, I think I finally understood.

I was a representative of the Center for Women and Politics supporting the Morang District Accountability Meeting organized by the Biratnagar-based Steering Committee of the Madheshi Women’s Advocacy Forum (explained 2 blogs ago). The purpose of the meeting was to bring together District leaders of political parties to pressure them into supporting the candidacy of Madheshi Women in the upcoming election.

VIEW OF THE MEETING HALL

The event was fated from the start as a district-wide bandha was called the day before, shutting down shops, schools, and public forms of transportation (buses and taxis were out, but cycle rickshaws and private transportation was ok). Essentially, with creativity people could still move about, but always under the threat of encounter or confrontation with the group calling the bandha. Despite the significant transportation challenges, just over an hour after our start time the hall was nearly filled with local participants and the program began.

About 45 minutes into the event a flood of women with heads covered in saris squeezed into every empty space of the rented hall. I later learned these women, many of whom are Dalit (the lowest strata of the Hindu caste system) and illiterate, woke up before dawn to complete their household duties, walked several kilometers to wait at an assigned stop, then spent roughly 3 hours covering 15 kilometers packed in a tractor to join our meeting in defiance of the imposed bandha.

BELIEVE IT OR NOT, OVER 100 WOMEN SQUEEZED INTO THIS TRACTOR....

Through the interpretation of my friend Ajaya I asked Niva Devi Keist, the rural organizer responsible for the incredible participation, how she motivated all the women to come. She shrugged away my amazement and explained “I simply told them the meeting would be an opportunity to learn about the Constitutional Assembly (CA) Election and to support Madheshi women struggling with political parties to be come candidates. They were all very interested to attend - there was no difficulty to get their participation. In fact, they were glad to have the opportunity to show the political parties that though they are not educated, they are interested in the CA.”

As a testament to the exclusion faced by Madheshi women, none of the political party representatives showed up to the meeting. And though the stated purpose could not be met, the gathering was certainly not in vain. The rural women listened attentively for several hours as people gave speeches about the political challenges faced by Madheshis and how their participation in the CA election is an opportunity to change that. Specific suggestions were given about how they could continue to inform themselves and take action. A strategic discussion also emerged about the possibility of running women candidates independently if the political parties continue to be unresponsive.

Then after some tea and a quick snack, the women headed back to their tractor to make the return journey to their villages. As I watched them squeeze in I looked at the array of expressions on their faces – the same ones I had seen throughout the day: excitement, confusion, happiness, boredom, exhaustion, and intense focus. Then I thought about all the obstacles standing between these women and their ability to caste a vote – their lack of education, a confusing and constantly changing electoral system led by politicians who do not take them seriously, and potential risks to their physical safety as they struggle to be involved.

I made the connection between the significant challenges they face and their determined, courageous commitment to keep moving forward despite it all. And I finally started to understand what it means to struggle for and “seize” one’s rights…

**follow this link to an interesting article about the current bandhas affecting Nepal

HEADIN HOME

Fall is festival season in Nepal, and things have definitely begun to kick into high gear. One of the first major celebrations of the season is “Teej” – a festival for women. This festival is overtly about and for women – for weeks I could hear women talking about their preparations. Teej involves eating rich foods the night before, fasting all day (w/o even drinking water), getting dressed in red from head to toe (including bangles and necklaces), and gathering with women friends at homes or at temples to sing and dance. Most women don’t have to work on that day – inside or outside the home. Overall it is a time of merriment, joy, and sisterhood.

Though the day is centered on women, the underlying religious significance of the ceremony is about men. The praying and singing and fasting is done mostly to Shiva (one of the main Hindu gods) to protect the lives of the males in your family – and particularly your husband. Women who are married perform their rituals to ensure a long and happy life for (and with) their husband. Those who are unmarried perform the same rituals as a way to ask Shiva to help them find a good mate. After the sun goes down married women break their fast by having their husband feed them their first mouthful of food. Tradition also has it that before eating women wash their husbands’ feet, and drink a bit of the foot-bath water that was used – but all of the men and women I discussed this with blatantly refuse to follow that tradition because they believe it is demoralizing.

A SAGE HANGING AROUND THE TEMPLE DRESSED AS SHIVA (BUT NOT GETTING MUCH ATTENTION FROM ANYONE EXCEPT FOREIGNERS)

My friend Sanjita, who along with her brother, owns a knitting shop in Thamel (the tourist section of town) had been begging me for weeks to spend Teej with her. So, I met her at her shop around noon and we went upstairs to the store room to change. Sanjita was married 6 months ago and consequently had several gorgeous red saris. I felt really awkward at first wrapping (and wrapping) myself in the sari she wore for her wedding ceremony but after a little assurance from her I decided to simply enjoy the luxury of a pure chiffon and hand-sequined sari.

SANJITA AND ME

Once dressed we headed to Pashupathi-nath, the most famous temple in Kathmandu to join throngs of women swathed in red. Lines of red dotted with umbrellas shielding the sun zig-zagged through the streets outside the temple compound as women queued to visit the main shrine. We decided to forego the hours-long wait, skipped doing a puja in front of Shiva’s statue, and instead worked our way into the back of the temple compound to visit some of the smaller temples and simply enjoy the crowd. And what a crowd it was!

A PORTION OF THE CROWD BEHIND PASHUPATHI’S MAIN TEMPLE

I’m not sure if it was the elation of the day or simply the fasting induced light-headedness – but I don’t recall ever seeing such a spirited gathering before. We quickly become engulfed in a red sea of clapping, laughing, singing, and dancing women. They were everywhere... in courtyards, under tents, and in the temples. They seemed to have bottomless energy and enthusiasm. And they were truly gorgeous. Perhaps many of them were praying for the good health and longevity of their husbands, but more than anything, it seemed like Teej was just an excuse for women of all ages to cast their duties aside for the day, get decked out, and have a plain ‘ole good time!

WOMEN SINGING AND DANCING

Since moving to Kathmandu I’ve spent most of my time helping the Madheshi Women’s Advocacy Forum (MWAF) get up and running. The MWAF was created as a result of the Madheshi Women’s National Conference held by Sarita Giri (both written about in my earlier blogs), and is a network of grassroots women leaders in districts across the Terai region dedicated to the social, economic, and political empowerment of Madheshi women.

The immediate initiative of the MWAF is to help Madheshi women’s political empowerment during the upcoming Constitutional Assembly Election. We have three short term goals:

1. To push for large numbers of Madheshi women candidates in constituencies across the Terai.
2. To educate Madheshi women at local levels about the upcoming election and democracy in general.
3. To mobilize voters to support qualified Madheshi women candidates and get them elected.

Right now we are implementing a 3-phase plan focused on the first goal.

To keep up the momentum from the National Conference and to begin working toward our goal of getting Madheshi women on the ballot we scheduled a MWAF National Steering Committee meeting in Kathmandu (Phase 1). On 9-11 September we brought the women leaders to Kathmandu from each of the 21 districts to launch the national campaign, “Win with Madheshi Women,” and for organizing sessions about Phase 2. The campaign launch was a big success and brought together the press, women leaders from many backgrounds, and high-level political party members to offer their support for the movement.

THE MWAF NATIONAL STEERING COMMITTEE MEMBERS UNVEILING A POSTER DEPICTING MADHESHI WOMEN CALLING FOR PEACE, SOCIAL JUSTICE, AND DEMOCRACY.

The second part of the National Steering Committee Meeting was sessions to help district leaders plan for Phase 2: District Level “Accountability Meetings.” The purpose of these meetings is to pressure local chapters of political parties to commit to running Madheshi female candidates.

The outcome of the planning sessions was a little more mixed than the campaign launch. To begin with, the mixed electoral system of proportional representation and direct election being used in Nepal's coming election is complicated even for those familiar with democratic processes, let alone people who are entirely new to the practice of voting.

On top of that, it turns out that the concepts and strategies we are trying to impart to our district leaders are quite challenging. Examples include strategically playing political parties against each other to increase the number of women candidates they commit to running and identifying for potential candidates that are currently not involved in party politics yet that might appeal to a wide range of people. The task of helping these women influence a system they don’t fully understand combined with the fact that (like most groups) there is a range of participants, from superstar to those just along for the ride, made our sessions less of a resounding success than I would have liked.

STRATEGY SESSION OF THE MWAF NATIONAL STEERING COMMITTEE

An additional problem I’m struggling with is the lack of original and critical thinking done by many of our district leaders. There seems to be a very strong cultural propensity in Nepal to defer to hierarchy – and I’ve experienced this being particularly intense among women. (Sarita is incredibly different in this regard, and I think this is why I appreciate working with her so much.)

As much as Sarita and I tried to give our district leaders theory to guide their own strategy formation, practically we ended up needing to be a lot more directive in providing specific tactics and even much more basic background information. Coming from a teaching background I understand the need to first teach to students and then guide them w/ varying levels of support before they can do something independently. Yet for some reason, working with adults makes this process seem unnecessary. The reality is that it is just as crucial, if not more so with adults, and I think if I can stay in that mindset it will help a lot.

Despite the difficulties of the planning sessions, the ongoing challenge of long distance communication in Nepal (ie. phone/fax), and the highly turbulent current political situation, our District Accountability meetings are scheduled to start from tomorrow. No doubt some will flop, but I do think there is the potential for many to be a success. The political parties are scheduled to publish their candidate lists on 30 September. Hopefully the District Accountability Meetings combined with our upcoming National Accountability Meeting (Phase 3) will produce lists loaded with quality Madheshi Women Candidates. Keep your fingers crossed for us…

There are two kinds of voting currently consuming the thoughts and energy of the Nepali public. First, is the voting related to the Constitutional Assembly election scheduled for 22 November. This newly elected body will be charged with the important tasks of writing a new constitution for Nepal, helping the country transition to a democracy, and bringing stability after 10+ years of violent conflict. The second type of voting that urgently weighs on the minds of many Nepalis relates to the all important selection of this year’s “Indian Idol.”

The national delight in Indian Idol is not surprising as Nepal’s culture is infused with singing. I have experienced sitting on the roof in Gaighat during power outages and stifling heat to pass the time learning Nepali folk songs, witnessed workshops in which late-arriving participants had to sing a song as their entrance toll, been surrounded by a roomful of young adults from different parts of the country earnestly sharing and teaching each other songs from their regions, and heard people burst into song during meetings – either to close things out or as a way of expressing their sentiments when words were insufficient.

AN AFTER-HOURS SING/DANCE PARTY AT THE MADHESHI WOMEN'S NATIONAL CONFERENCE

However, this love of all things musical seemingly turned into a national obsession when an Indian Idol participant of Nepali decent by the name of Prassant Thamang made it to the Top 10 Finalists. One night a few weeks ago, shortly after my move to Kathmandu, I was walking home after dinner with a friend, and the street was eerily quiet, save one song that was swirling all around me… Then suddenly the entire neighborhood burst into cheers and applause. I was very confused for a moment until I realized, it was Friday night around 10pm, which meant Nepalis across the country were huddled around any television they could find to watch Indian Idol and cheer on Prassant.

This support for Prassant has not only become a national pastime, it has also been turned into a national campaign. Though Nepalis can easily get the cable channels from India that allow them to watch the show, they are not able to participate in the voting as the systems do not allow international votes from Nepal. However, these resolute Nepalis have not been deterred. They have set up a coordinated effort to make calls, submitting votes from numerous centers just inside the Indian border. Through their successful and strategic manipulation of the voting process Prassant has made it to the very last round and he is one of the two finalists vying for the title (though he is good, I have to say he is certainly not at this point based on talent alone).

In the last few days, I have begun to see the army of Prassant troops mobilizing their final push to support their candidate in the remaining 7 days of voting. I have repeatedly come across young people marching with pictures and banners in the street and booths with loud speakers calling on people to donate to the cause.

PRASSANT SUPPORTERS TAKING DONATIONS

The money that is collected for Prassant is sent to communities of Nepali descent living just across the border in India – much like the one that Prassant came from in Darjeeling. Once it arrives, I imagine these donations support a network of volunteer troops that have been organized into around-the clock shifts, making non-stop calls to ensure that Prassant will become the next Indian Idol.

It would be really easy to moan about how the energy and resources going toward Prasant (and filling the coffers of the Indian phone companies) could be better spent on some of Nepal’s urgent needs. It would also be easy to joke about the organizational lessons that the 8-parties could learn from this youth initiative. But I’ll do neither. Instead I’ll say that the ingenuity, enthusiasm, and organization of this campaign impresses me, and in some ironic way gives me hope for the next generation of Nepali leaders.

And I’ll hold out a hope that Prassant will take a few weeks after his stint with Indian Idol is over to take advantage of his popularity, return the love he has been shown by Nepal, and encourage the Nepali people to put the same energy they have shown into the next set of vitally important elections.

I just left Gaighat and after a relatively uneventful bus-ride I arrived back in Kathmandu (enabled by a surprisingly effective police effort to keep the roads open despite attempts at a Bandha). According to my original plan this should have been my last blog and I should have already arrived back in California and started classes. As happens, the plan has changed. I have decided to stay in Nepal for the coming semester, move from Gaighat to Kathmandu, and return to the USA at the end of the year to resume my courses next semester.

“Why,” you may ask, have you made this decision? The essence of my decision is that I feel this is a particularly interesting time to be in Nepal with elections scheduled for 22 November, and having recently summitted the peak of an intense language and cultural learning curve, I simply didn’t feel ready to leave. Once I decided to explore the possibility of staying I quickly became amazed at how doors effortlessly opened and things began to fall into place. Overall it has been a surprisingly easy decision to stay.

“So, what will you be doing,” is a logical next question…

If you read my previous blog you will know that I have come across an amazing Nepali female leader by the name of Sarita Giri (pictured below during the 2006 People's Movement - http://www.peacexpeace.org/resources/images/Sarita2.jpg).

After our work at the Madheshi Women’s National Conference, Sarita asked me to continue with her for the next few months. The bottom line is we will help women get elected in Nepal’s upcoming Constitutional Assembly election – and hopefully simultaneously bring women’s voices into the national discourse to support the process of stabilizing and bringing peace to Nepal.

As I’m sure you know if you’ve been reading my blogs I have been deeply touched this summer by the circumstances facing women in Nepal. Though elections were not something I directly set out to work on, after a little reflection I decided that at this moment the most effective way to help Nepali women improve their prospects is to support their inclusion in the creation of Nepal’s new Constitution. Not only will this give women a voice and an opportunity to advocate for vital issues affecting them at a national level, but it will increase the likelihood that a favorable national structure for addressing these issues will be created. A side effect is that even if women are elected in limited numbers, this process alone will increase their participation in political life and develop the capacity of many as local and national leaders.

Even though there is a definite potential that elections will not be held as scheduled on 22 November, this is still an incredible time to be in Nepal, and I feel blessed with an amazing opportunity to help organize a national women’s movement. My personal hope is that after the elections this movement will continue on in an organized way to address some of the overwhelming issues affecting women across Nepal.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned over the summer is that things don’t tend to go according to plan, particularly in Nepal. And, staying consistent to my nature, during my remaining time here I also hope to juggle a few other projects that will continue to supporting the work of the other great organizations I’ve come to know. Thus, it is likely that as things unfold there will be a few twists to the current plot outline… Stay tuned!

ME AND MY CO-WORKERS AFTER MY FIRST "RICE TRANSPLANTION" LESSON

Before launching into the conference, here’s a little background to explain what “Madheshi” is, as well as some of the other relevant political circumstances that play into the current situation.

Though it is a relatively small country Nepal’s physical and social make up is incredibly complicated and diverse. Nepal’s population and geography are divided into 3 bands that stretch horizontally across the country. Moving from south to north the zones are: the Terai (“plains” in Nepali) – often designates as “inner and outer Terai”, the Hills, and the Mountains. Currently the majority of the political unrest and violence is in the Terai, while the historic and current governing center of the country is the Kathmandu Valley, located in the Hill area. The Mountains are very sparsely populated, provided the greatest overall challenges for infrastructure development, and minimally figure into the current political situation.

THE YELLOW AND GREEN SHOW THE OUTER AND INNER TERAI, THE RED ILLUSTRATES THE HILLS, AND THE WHITE INDICATES THE MOUNTAIN REGION (http://www.nfpa.org.np/images/nepal_map.jpg)

The underlying cause of the violence in the Terai is the tension that exists between the people from the Hills (Pahadi) who have historically ruled and dominated Nepal and the “Madheshi” people from the Terai (Madhesh means “plains” in Hindi) who have been (and are) discriminated against and intentionally excluded from power. Madheshis are mostly comprised of indigenous groups and people of Indian ancestry who migrated to Nepal and have lived here for as many as 6 generations. These people have been prevented from having citizenship, owning land, and even having the right to speak in their own mother-tounges. These insults have been heightened by the lack of infrastructure, disproportionately low development money spent in the Terai, and government-sponsored settlements several decades ago that kick many people off of their land and forced many to become bonded-laborers.

In April of 2006 a “Peoples Movement” developed as millions of people poured into the streets of Kathmandu and municipal centers around the country for 19 days calling for the elimination of the monarchy and the reinstatement of a democratic government which could more successfully help to end the 10-year conflict with the Maoists. A democratic government was re-instated and in November 2006 a peace agreement was signed with the Maoists to end the civil war. One of the main requirements of the peace agreement was that elections would be held in June 2007 to elect a body charged with writing a new Constitution (they have already been postponed until November 2007, and this date continues to be questionable).

Unfortunately, throughout the process of establishing the interim government to prepare the country for these elections, Madheshis continued to be neglected – both by the ruling Pahadi majority and by the Maoists who had assured their many Madheshi supporters that they would address their needs as part of a ceasefire agreement. Thus In January 2007 a “Madheshi Movement” erupted throughout the Terai – ironically driven by several armed groups led by dissatisfied former Maoists.

This movement has been dominated by men. And though the violence and struggle in the region has significantly affected the lives of women, they have had little to no voice surrounding these events.

For an excellent in-depth resource to the Madheshi Conflict, check out International Crisis Group’s: Nepal’s Troubled Terai Region at: http://www.crisisgroup.org/home/index.cfm?id=4941

Through the helpful web of foreigners in Nepal I became acquainted with a temporary Kathmandu resident named Anne Sung [insert hypelink to blog] who attends the Kennedy School of Government doing a dual degee in Public Policy and Buddhist Divinity Studies (who coincidently like me, also did Teach for America). Anne has been interning this summer with an organization called The Center for Women in Politics and working closely with it’s chairWOMAN, Sarita Giri.

The last time I was in Kathmandu Anne and I met up at a funky café in Thamel, discussing among many other things the conspicuous absence of professional relationships with women I’ve had this summer and the situation of Nepalese women in general. At then end of our long conversation sitting on floor pillows, illuminated by black lights, and delighting in fresh salad and decent humus, Anne insisted that I meet Sarita and possibly join us for the conference they were planning in the coming weeks. Before I knew it, I was bound for Chitwan, a district in middle of the country, to join the first ever Madheshi Women’s National Conference.

The women at the conference had been selected through word of mouth due to their social involvement in their communities. Roughly 5 women of “Madeshi” origin came from each of the 20 districts in the Terai region (out of 75 total districts in Nepal) for a total of almost 100 women. The women at the conference were truly diverse and inspiring, ranging from their late teens into their 60s, speaking a variety of languages, and representing a range of religions. Their clothing ranged from the ultra modern shirt and jeans to standard tunics and pants, to saris, and some had master’s degrees while others were so illiterate they had to use their fingerprints as signatures.

Madheshi women (particularly those of North Indian descent) are known to be more socially oppressed than their Nepali sisters of other ethnic backgrounds. Visible evidence of this was the women who were sent to the conference with male chaperones (who sat at the back of the room throughout the conference) and those that used their saris to keep their heads covered, as they are traditionally expected to do when allowed to be in public. For many of the women in attendance it was their first time away from their husbands and families. Attending itself, for many was an act of significant courage and perseverance.

Thus as the week went on and we began to have to wrestle the microphone away from women who were initially silent, we could see the unquantifiable effect of having such a gathering for building solidarity, confidence, and leadership. Throughout the conference multiple layers of meaning were intertwined when “empowerment” was mentioned; discussing ending dowries and securing parliamentary seats in the same breath. It was fascinating for me to see how strongly these women value a new national constitution that ensures and protects their rights as a tool to use in their fight for social emancipation in their homes and communities.

The conference sessions included paper presentations on the sociological status of women in Nepal and the history of relations between Pahadis and Madheshis, detailed information sessions about the constitutional assembly election, and extensive 2-day training by Anne about “organizing” (that I ended up helping teach as well!). It was amazing to see the women work to understand the complexities of the upcoming Constitutional Assembly process, which is comprised of a single-candidate and proportional representation based on party and is confusing to even the most experienced political scientists. The women would review the session material over meals, and repeatedly requested additional sessions before or after hours to clarify aspects they didn’t understand and to share ideas to use in their own districts.

The conference garnered significant attention in the national Nepali media, and even intrigued Ian Martin (the head of the UN’s Mission in Nepal) so much that he agreed to come speak to the participants. Even though we were initially disappointed when he was unable to make it due to weather that grounded his helicoptor, in the end we were quite content to be able to continue the energy generated from a day of exclusively female presenters.

The overarching purpose of this conference was to bring local Madeshi women leaders together to organize and prepare them to do meaningful work around the Constitutional Assembly Election. To this end, 3 “products” resulted from the conference. First a declaration was finalized and submitted to Nepal’s interim government and the public at large underscoring the effect of the current violence on the women of the Terai and calling for on-time, free, and fair elections as a necessary step toward establishing peace (not the other way around as many are requesting). Second, we established a set of activities and a time-line for women to implement in their local districts to pressure political parties to select women candidates for the coming election. Lastly (and personally my favorite – which I have excerpted in the subsequent blog) we wrote a collective story that binds all Madheshi women together, giving voice to their challenges, celebrating their strengths, and sharing their vision for the new Nepal they want to help manifest.

Who knew when I sat across from Anne at that café in Kathmandu that it would lead me to find a piece of Nepal I had been desperately missing. It was such a gift to spend five days surrounded and inspired by and remarkable gathering of women. And I hope we are able to continue the momentum generated by the convention to truly impact the outcome of the Constituent Assembly Election.

1. We are Madheshi women. We are Dalit, Tharu, Rajvarrshi, Meche, Hindu, and Muslim. We speak Hindi, Mathili, Bhojpuri, Nepali, Rajvarrshi, Tharu, Urdu, and many other languages. We are diverse but we are one and united.

2. We are Madheshi women. We are mothers, sisters, daughters, and wives. Early in the morning we get up, clean the utensils, and cook food. We feed our children and husbands and send them to their schools and offices. We toil in the fields and care for them. We walk to the jungle, cut firewood, and carry it home. We collect grass to feed the cows and buffalos. We bear children and raise them. We care for our families, teach our children, get them married, and then look after our grandchildren. We toil so hard yet our parents, husbands, brothers, and leaders fail to understand our feelings, our struggles, and our pain.

3. We are Madheshi women. We have many struggles but we are not powerless; we are the personification of strength. We did not have money to pursue studies. Many worked hard to pay for their education. Our road to school was blocked by family and community members but we revolted and reached the schools. At very early ages our parents got us married and we solved all the problems that resulted. Even after taking huge doweries our in-laws tortured us mentally and physicallyMany of our husbands hungered for more dowry and wanted to marry again; many doing so two or three times. Even with no formal education while looking after the house we learned to handle many matters. Many of us are unmarried, cast out, and widowed.

4. We are Madheshi women. We engage in social work. Along with our jobs we are involved in social activities. Many of us are in politics. Our families tried to stopped many of us from getting involved in politics – they suppressed our will to come forward. We have to live behind the veil, yet we haven't stopped doing what we love to do. Holding on to the hope that we can also do something we are slowly emerging out of the walls of the house. Most of us are the victims of domestic violence, sexual violence, and social violence. Thinking that all these problems must be addressed through political decisions, we are stepping onto the public stage.

5. We are Madheshi women. We are leaders. We get involved in politics and social service. We have started organizations to serve society. We protect those who are victimized, oppressed, and used, we raise their consciousness, and we organize them to emerge as a powerful force for restructuring our society and country.

6. We are Madheshi women. We have a vision for a new Nepal. In this new Nepal no one will be exploited or oppressed. Women will have seized our rights and we will thrive. We will be governed by a constitution written by a body that is inclusive and representative. Madheshi women will be ministers, and some day prime minister and president in the new Nepal. We will all be employed. There will be no dowry system. Our daughters and daughter-in-laws will be respected. Women will be 50% of politicians and bureaucrats. Women will be in charge of government organizations. Women will hold high offices and even become justices. The new Nepal will be beautiful, peaceful, and powerful and for each person there will be justice, equality, and freedom.

7. We are Madheshi women. We call upon our brothers and sisters from Madheshi, Janajati, Pahadi, and all other communities to work together to build the new Nepal of our dreams.

These past few months in Nepal have been and on going process of having my eyes opened. It was one thing to sit at home and read about life in under-developed countries or see images of them on TV. But my theoretical understanding can’t even begin compare to the understanding I’m gaining here. Ironically every time I think, “Okay, now I get it,” another experience whacks me upside the head and reveals the next layer. The opportunity I had recently to visit my close friend Parmila’s home village of Harriya was such an induction.

My good friend Parmila had to return her 4-year old daughter Rachanna to her grandparents home in their village because school was starting, and she invited me to come. Parmila’s uncle, Arjun-dai, joined us for the 1-day/1-night trip so he could return to his home to check on his fields and his family for a few days.

In preparation they asked me if I wanted to walk, ride cycles, or take a taxi. I certainly had too much pride to request a taxi, knowing they would only use that method for my benefit, didn’t think walking would be efficient given our time constraints, and thought the 2 hour bike ride sounded quite and fun – not to mention it is the way they usually travel.

Unfortunately, my decision making hadn’t accounted an afternoon with blazing sun and 95% humidity or for the need to ride/pushe our one-speed bicycles over an often flooded rock and dirt road, across sand dunes, and along cow paths in the forest (the reality show Survivor had nothing on this..).

Somehow, after some informative detours and incredible views, several stops in the shade for guavas and chai, and with Rachanna leaking tears of soreness and exhaustion from straddling the rear rack of my bike for roughly 4 hours, we straggled into Harriya.

During our trip to Harriya I was able to learn more about the work of the Nepal Social Development and People’s Empowerment Center, NESPEC (the COCAP member organization that is hosting me this summer in Gaighat). I knew that as part of their recent programming was devoted to agricultural and economic empowerment – specifically, they are helping poor local farmers learn to cultivate crops during non-traditional seasons. By providing them knowledge and “technology,” NESPEC creates an opportunity for farmers to earn a significant profit by providing crops out of season and helps them shift from being subsistence farmers to profitable farmers.

As our trip progressed and we stopped at hamlet after hamlet to look at these bamboo domes, I learned a little bit about the farmers involved in the project. It turns out that many of the farmers come from the Tharu community. Tharus are one of Nepal’s indigenous groups and have been able to live in areas uninhabitable by other groups due to their malaria immunity (when malaria became manageable others settled the areas). For generations they previously owned and occupied much of the fertile land around the Triuga river in Udayapur District. Unfortunately, as a result of economic degradation the Tharus in this area have become landless and incredibly poor.

Due to a need for firewood local people have increasingly deforested the hills surrounding the Gaighat Valley. As a result of this deforestation there is significant runoff of soil from the surrounding mountains into the river beds, particularly during monsoon season. This “siltration” has raised the level of the river beds and ultimately consumed the once fertile land which the Tharus own and formerly occupied, making the land worthless and depriving them of their means of survival. Not only is NESPEC responsible for working with them to help them develop small cash crops, but Arjun-dai played a large role in helping them relocate once their lands were ruined, working with the local government to provide long-term leases with reasonable rates to these farmers on undeveloped government land.

Lastly, I met Selina. She is a 14 year old girl from a very rural mountain village who, along with her disabled brother, through some circumstances I’m unclear about ended up being trafficked into a circus in Bangalore, India. A Nepali anti-child trafficking agency rescued both her and her brother, and returned them to Nepal and helped to rehabilitate them. Selina now lives in Harriya in the Nepali equivalent of foster care, being integrated into a family who will care for her in exchange for help with their domestic work.

The NESPEC volunteers launched a campaign to raise funds for her schooling by requesting a single rupee each from a large number local community members. She is incredibly bright, and in addition to the schooling she is getting she earns a small sum which she is able to send to her parents in this remote community.

Throughout the summer I have been impressed with NESPEC as an organization, but seeing many of their projects in person gave me both an increased understanding of the fundamental problems they are helping people overcome and an appreciation for the quality of their work.

As I’ve jostled along on various bus rides I’ve seen Nepali’s sleeping and tried to understand how it was possible. After a few days with Parmila’s and Arjun-dai’s families I think I figured it out – Nepalis are just exhausted! Though these families are relatively wealthy – defined by their status as land owners – they are subsistence farmers and thus condemned to a life of backbreaking work I had never before had the opportunity to comprehend.

It seems that all the work they do revolves around food. Not only do these families grow, harvest, store, prepare, eat, and clean up after, food for themselves, but also do the same twice a day for their animals! When you live in a place with no running water or electricity and all of your work is manually done this is no small task. The amount of time and energy spent gathering and preparing food for their 2 water buffalos, 2 ox, 1 cow, and many goats totally blew me away. They actually prepared hot meals cooked over an open fire pit for their animals 2 times a day.

In the few days I was in Harriya I helped to transplant rice, harvest corn (and the corn stalks), carry a doko (a basket that hangs off the head and down the back) filled with animal feed, along with all the traditional domestic chores, and become utterly exhausted after doing maybe 1/10 of the work done by the others. Not surprisingly, Parmila’s mom during the afternoons would occasionally nod off while sitting up and in the middle a conversation.

What I’ve come to understand about Nepal is that land equals wealth. However, the “land = wealth” equation doesn’t add up the way we might think. Land doesn’t provide an opportunity for real estate and development or for industrial-sized farms. Rather, in largely subsistence farmed Nepal, the “land” part of the equation ironically condemns the people to a life of backbreaking work.

As hard as they work, the families of Parmila and Arjun-dai are the lucky ones – and the wealthy ones. They own land and livestock, have a water pump on their property and do not have to carry it to their house in large jugs, and are able to afford to buy firewood, kerosene, and matches to provide a little light in the evening by which they can do their work. They keep the majority of what they produce and give some portion to others who labor on their land as payment. As exhausted as they are, I can’t even begin to imagine the lives of those without any of these luxuries.

It has been so easy for me to romanticize what I’ve been seeing all over Nepal and particularly in Harriya. Cows and buffalos peacefully munching on grass, gorgeous green rice paddies, inky-black star-filled skies unpolluted by light… but now when I see any of those images they come paired with another. A body repeatedly staggering from a field to a stable with load after load of vegetation balanced on her head so large you can only see legs sticking out below are covered in a skirt… a man dripping with sweat slogging through mud for hours as he urges a pair of oxen in concentric squares plowing a field… women hunched over all day in the hot sun for weeks at a time carefully placing each stalk of rice into the recently plowed mud…. A mother not able to appreciate the beauty of the stars because she is squatting over a fire pit in the pitch black stirring a pot of rice and corn mush to feed her family before collapsing onto a wooden palate covered in a straw mat to sleep for a few hours before starting all over again...

My trip to Harriya was wonderful. I met beautiful and generous people, ate delicious food made from local & seasonal ingredients, laughed a lot, and got to watch fireflies dance against a background of stars like I’ve never seen. But most importantly my time in Harriya allowed me to understand to a new extent what an incredible set of gifts we are provided by development and what it means when people say “Nepal is a really poor country.”

I have been blessed with an adopted mother in Nepal (which everyone at NESPEC loves to tease me about). She has been responsible for helping me learn everything from to how to take a bath at the water pump while fully covered and in public view, to some horribly accented and broken Nepali. Our current project involves me trying to learn to cook Nepali-style.

Twenty-three year old Parmila is from a village in Udayapur District a few hours away from Gaighat. She attended the local government schools there through the equivalent of high school completion, and is now waiting for the results of the national exit exam she recently took before enrolling in a bachelor degree program. In the meantime she is the chairperson of the active volunteer committee at NESPEC.

She rents a room in the same house I live with 2 other friends (Susma and Karuna) in preparation to attend the local college. The room the 3 of them share is smaller than mine, has only a single bed, and contains not only all of their clothes and school things, but also all of their food and cooking apparatus – including a gas tank and burner!

Parmila had a love marriage at 19 against the wishes of both families when she and her male best friend (from another caste) professed their love to each other and eloped. Subsequently her family (mother, father, and 3 brothers) has accepted their marriage. Unfortunately, her husband’s family has not. This causes particular challenges as typically in Nepali society upon marriage a bride “leaves” her family and joins her husband’s family, with her birth family having no future responsibility for her.

Additionally, Parmila has an absolutely edible 4 year old daughter, Rachana. Rachanna sometimes stays with us in Gaighat but mostly stays with her maternal grandparents in Harriya and attends the local school. Luckily Parmila’s family has decided not to follow the traditional custom and is very close with both Parmila and her daughter. The financial and emotional support they provide is particularly important given the challenges she and her husband are facing.

Parmila’s husband, like many other Nepalese men lacking job prospects, outsourced himself through a broker as unskilled labor to the Middle East. He has been in Dubai for the last 3 years trying to save enough money from his low wages to send home. On top of not seeing and barely communicating with his wife and daughter for 3 years, he is having much less success than hoped as a result of a fraudulent broker, and the family finds themselves in a very difficult financial situation.

My friendship with Parmila has been one of the greatest blessings I’ve experienced during my stay her and I am honored to introduce her to you now.

This gigantic spider (maybe crab is a better description) suddenly appeared on my wall – about the size of a silver dollar – conspicuously close to my bed. Swallowing my initial concern and trying to remind myself of all the good things spiders do I took the following picture. Unfortunately I felt it lacked perspective and tried to figure out how to capture it in another shot. I thought using my toe might be a good idea, but not surprisingly as I moved it toward the spider (god knows what I was thinking) the spider ran away…. Right into plain site of my gecko roommate, Boy George. I was worried that BG might get killed by this fierce looking creature, but before I knew it the fight had been called. Let’s hear it for another rockin Saturday night in Gaighat!

As I had meetings scheduled with International NGOs (for the second time since I never made the first) and did not want to get stopped or delayed by bandhas, I flew into Kathmandu. On the way back I didn’t have any urgent appointments scheduled. So, to save some money and also embody the “if the Nepali’s can do it, so can I” philosophy I’ve been cultivating I decided to take the bus back.

At 4:30am I hit the street to find a cab to take me to the bus station and through some combination of luck and broken Nepali of which I’m very proud, I found myself on the bus bound for Gaighat by 5am on the dot. Having been through this bus-ride before, I was prepared. I knew that I wouldn’t sleep, had a small assortment of snacks, charged batteries for my MP3 player, sufficient water, and my camera ready in case I had the chance to snap anything interesting.

When we pulled off the road a few hours later for breakfast I decided not to eat because I knew I could make it until lunch snacks, and wanted to use the time to take some pictures that I couldn’t get on a fast moving bus.

When the bus slowed to a stop about 30 minutes after our breakfast stop I thought nothing of it. That was until half of the passengers vacated the bus and our bus driver and other 2 bus staff (there is an excess of manpower here) disappeared around a corner just up the road. Seizing another chance to get some pictures of the hills I followed suit. Before long a man with decent English had struck up a conversation with me and informed me that we would be here for a while.

He explained that a woman and 2 children down the road were killed by a truck and it would be 6-8 hours before the road was clear. I was unclear if the delay was a result of carnage in the road or a show of respect for the deceased. But in any case, I was sure he was exaggerating a bit and that we couldn’t possibly be stuck for 6-8 hours. Turns out he spoke some truth and some exaggeration – but not as I had predicted.

As people leisurely strolled by in both directions it quickly became obvious that no one thought we were heading anywhere and I decided to take a walk to investigate the situation and see if I could locate my bus staff.

Sadly the road was indeed blocked because a fatal accident. Two local people had been killed by a hit-and-run driver and consequently grief-stricken members of the community were blocking the road as a protest that the police were not doing anything to apprehend the driver (and would continue to do so until the situation were satisfactorily addressed).

In under a mile I arrived at the epicenter, identifiable by a lazily chaotic throng of people, an overturned motorcycle, and a sheet covering what I presume were the deceased (I decided it was unnecessary to push my way to the center to look closely or take any pics). From what I could tell travelers and community members were talking, and periodically various men would break into impassioned speeches and then be engulfed by the crowd. I observed the scene for a bit and tried unsuccessfully to locating my bus staff. On my walk down I had seen several vehicles turning around to go back to wherever they came from and I got a touch nervous that my bus might do the same without me on it, so I decided to walk back to my bus.

Though my original informant was wrong about the details of the accident, he unfortunately was correct about the time of our delay. My bus did not return to Kathmandu, but instead for the next 8 hours we waited with passengers from all the other vehicles spilled onto the highway to make temporary encampments in whatever shade they could find as the heat of the day wore on. Vendors appeared from somewhere to provide snacks which we all used to try to keep us satiated ( even with the snacks I had by the time we had our first meal of the day at 8pm that night I was incredibly sorry I had skipped out on breakfast!).

At around 1pm a truck load of police officers came through, headed toward the site of the accident. I of course assumed they would simply clear the road and get traffic moving. But I was informed that they would actually negotiate with the villagers and that it would probably be another 2 hours. As predicted, roughly two hours later somehow the villagers were appeased and our temporary city vanished into moving ovens. Well, mostly moving… the next 2 hours were a period of intense stop and go as the jam was cleared up.

I’d like this adventure to end here. And though the detailed recounting will, the adventure itself lasted for another 2 chapters stretching over 14 hours. After dinner we endured another bandha caused by people protesting that their power was out (it magically got turned back on) and then in the middle of the night the bus broke down. As most of the passengers ultimately lay down in the middle of the empty highway and I chose the surprisingly smelly but more private luggage rack on the roof with a slight breeze, we were accompanied for three hours by an arrhythmic lullaby of banging and clanging.
By the time I rolled into Gaighat at 5am my expected 10 hour return trip had grown into 24.5. All this to cover a distance of roughly 280 kilometers (yeah… that’s less than 130 miles).

As funny as it is to tell the story of my crazy bus-adventure, I’m also can't ignore the story’s less-funny broader implications. What serves me as fodder for crazy stories before I ultimately return to a life surrounded by order and stability is an inescapable reality for most Nepalis (and many other people around the world) that leads to a life of unpredictability and inefficiency. Scenarios like this also give me a deep and disheartening insight into the myriad of challenges facing such societies and ultimate respect for the members of them who are steadfastly committed to bringing change.

With a great proposal about voter awareness in hand (written as the product of our regional meeting in Jhapa), I finally arrived in Kathmandu and began to meet with various International-NGOs. Unfortunately the end result of those meetings was disappointing. It turns out that as great as our idea was (which was confirmed by the organizations I met with), we had missed the boat for election-related funds. Even though there is still an intense need to reach and inform people in regional areas, all funds appropriated for such purposes have long since been committed. Lesson one for working with INGOs: no matter how you dice it, the funding process takes A LONG time and to get money for any project requires starting way ahead of schedule.

The good news is that after some extensive discussions about our concept of voter awareness and the funding challenges we faced, the COCAP head office in Kathmandu is keen to launch a slightly transformed voter awareness campaign using its extensive body of volunteers. At this point, the tentative plan is to utilize a group of volunteers from within the existing body in Kathmandu and to also bring in 5-10 volunteers from each of the four Focal Point Regions. This will not only allow these young people to meet each other and work together to develop regionally appropriate awareness sessions, but it will also help strengthen the volunteer base and COCAP’s presence outside of Kathmandu.

So, all in all, some important and hard lessons learned – still with a sliver lining. Stay tuned for more updates as the plan is finalized!

1. I have been really overwhelmed by all the responses to my last blog – on this site and in my personal email. My hope for my last blog was to begin raising awareness of this issue, and I have been amazed at the response and ideas that have begun to flow in. The next step is to figure out which organizations are equipped to begin addressing this problem and approach them. To this end, I’ll be working closely with the staff at The Advocacy Project who will use the contacts and resources they have to taking the lead, and I will be supporting them with local information.

2. A lot of people asked why there were no women in this meeting. I think there are 3 potential (and very general) reasons for this. First, from what I have experienced, women are certainly involved in NGO work, but mainly they seem to be hired on for specific projects as opposed to being on the permanent staff of a given NGO. Thus, they certainly are the ones working in the communities with women, but are less involved at the “policy” level, and consequently would not be as involved in meetings of this sort.

A second underlying possibility may lie in the educational discrepancies that lie between men and women. This leads to men be better qualified and subsequently have more prominent positions (and I suspect a greater sense of themselves – though this is just a newly forming and unsubstantiated hypothesis). This also results in women generally speaking much less English than men (who, outside of Kathmandu, often don’t speak much). This lack of English not only saddens me on a daily basis because it prevents me from communicating with women, but again places obstacles to their participation in such a meeting.

The third possible explanation may be that women simply participate in public life less than men. They may not have the time or the interest to be involved, or it may not occur to them that they have something valuable to contribute. Thus, this meeting may be no different from most others (and certainly not from most I’ve experienced).

There is wide acknowledgement among the men I’ve met that drastic change is needed with regard to the inclusion of women and there are regular and intentional efforts to involve women as much as possible (with obviously varying levels of success). Additionally, the current generations (at least among the people I’ve met, who are de-facto somewhat educated themselves) profess to value women’s education much more than previous generations and believe there will be a distinct change as these younger and educated women increasingly come of age.

The last issue to mention is the following. The men in the meeting strongly felt that this is not only an issue that should be addressed by women. They believe that to fully address this problem there is extensive social change needed – particularly regarding expectations of the work required of women. For better or worse, they believe that for such social change to happen, conversations between men, and conversations with men advocating for women are necessary. I have to agree, for a number of reasons, that this makes a lot of sense.

Frequently my conversations in Nepal involve a lot of gesturing from both sides. The less English someone speaks, the more intense this gesturing becomes. One of the first evenings I was in Gaighat I had a particularly notable conversation of this sort where my landlady Sabita-ji tried to explain a pressing concern on her mind. The conversation began with the words “women, Nepal, health, and bad” repeated in various configurations as she tapped her chest and said “health worker” until she was sufficiently convinced that I understood her meaning.

She then moved on to repeating something I couldn’t understand at all followed by “dere samosia” (big problem) while pointing to her abdomen and making a number of other strange gestures that made me think of a baby being born. After about 15 repetitions I said “uterus prolapse?” taking a guess at what she was trying to communicate but having no idea what it meant. She confirmed that was correct and continued the conversation by dragging 11-year old Eliza into the kitchen to sit on the floor with us to interpret as best she could for a subject she clearly was uninterested in and didn’t understand.

Fast forward several weeks to the return from my business meeting in Jhapa. Binot-ji, the president of Community Development Forum (CDF) looked at me with a very serious expression and said “Come Lahan. Meeting. Important,” followed by a pause and then “uterus prolapse.” This caught me off guard, and I stammered “Ok…” After a subsequent conversation in Nepali Arjun-dai and Prakash-ji (the men I work most closely with at NESPEC) informed me that we would go to Lahan to meet them in a few days for this very important meeting.
(random picture of Prakash in Ilam).
Luckily in the intervening days during a trip to a tea plantation in the hills of Nepal I randomly came across some Dutch medical students completing one of their internships in the gynecology wing of a well reputed Nepali teaching Hospital and begged them to explain what the heck a prolapsed uterus was. Through a very graphic discussion, some drawings, and (believe it or not) some more gestures, they helped me get a basic technical understanding.

Essentially, they explained if the ligaments holding a woman’s uterus in place become weakened the uterus can fall into and begin to protrude out of her vagina. The extent of the problem is classified into 4 stages, the most extreme of which can only be addressed by surgery. The weakened ligaments can be caused by a combination of factors including early and repeated pregnancy throughout a woman’s life, excessive pressure on a woman’s stomach during birth (often applied by untrained birthing assistants as less than 10% of Nepali women give birth in hospitals by trained personnel), lack of sufficient rest and a return to heavy manual labor immediately following giving birth, along with other related factors.

Believe me, I was thanking my lucky stars I had come across those medical students when I walked into my meeting at CDF….

I sat down with my male colleagues (yes, again, all men) to negotiate our communication obstacles and discuss the situation of uterus prolapse in Nepal. Binot-ji, began by handing me flip charts and posters that explained the problem. Though I couldn’t understand the writing on them, they were accompanied by extensive cartoon drawings that illustrated many of the causes I learned about from the medical students. As only 35% of Nepali women can read (compared with 85% of men) all informational materials targeted at women have to include such illustrations to communicate their message.

The first phase of our discussion involved the men trying to help me understand how uterus prolapse was caused; aided by the visuals and my prior knowledge this task was fairly successful. We then moved on to they “why it is such a big problem” phase. They communicated it is a very pervasive problem affecting incredibly high proportions of women in Nepal. Subsequent internet research I did revealed several articles discussing the problem and conservatively placing the incidence at 10% of Nepali women.

- Fallen Womb: The Hardest Burden for a Woman to Bear
- Listening to "felt needs": investigating genital prolapse in western Nepal
- Fact sheet on uterine prolapse

They also expressed concern and explained that uterus prolapse is causing a lot of social problems including something along the lines of divorce. The significant social ramifications of a medical problem surprised me and the simple response to my query about how this could lead to divorce came after a few minutes of discussion among themselves. One man turned to me and said “sexual satisfaction.” When I looked confused he continued sadly, “women much pain, men not satisfied take new wife.”

He further explained that this is a very bad situation for the women because if they are cast out by their husbands and their parents often won’t take them back due to economic hardship. This leaves such destitute women no other choice than to work as a servant in a home that will provide them food and shelter in exchange for their work – often becoming a servant to their husband and his new wife.

Just then Binot-ji who had been rustling around in his desk passed me a stack of pictures. I almost fell out of my chair. It was a stack of pictures of women their on backs (many on hardwood floors), with stick think legs and heels flexibly tucked into fleshless buttocks in a manner a yogi would envy. Yet they held a tension that belied their discomfort while they revealed their most intimate selves. In a shocked daze I flipped through several pictures of women in the early stages of prolapse with their parts looking essentially normal except for narrow slits of white at the center. As I continued through the stack my heart sank into my stomach.

Picture after picture showed protrusions of increasing size. The prolapses grew from the size of a lemon to an orange, to a grapefruit, and ultimately to a small cantelope. The larger ones had sores on the sides where the delicate tissue of the hanging uterus had become chaffed by walking thighs that rubbed against it. Many of the women pictured were clearly elderly, identifiable by wrinkled and leathery skin covering stringy muscles that hung off spindly legs and lacked any tone of youth.

Images flashed to mind of women I’ve been seeing throughout Nepal staggering under the weight of heavy loads balanced on the crown of their heads or wrapping from their foreheads down into woven baskets leaning against their backs.

I have been consistently amazed by the older subset of these women who appear so fragile yet are so strong and saddened by the need that makes them so. Realizing that many of them maintain despite intense pain and social disgrace was overwhelming.

Then I came across a set of pictures that was stapled together - first another uterus prolapse and then a picture of the woman it belonged to staring straight into the camera with a hollow expression and her saree draped over her head. It just was. Her lack of anonymity and courage truly stunned me.

By the end of the stack the tears had welled up and the damn was breaking. I put the pictures down, stepped outside, sank down in the shade on the concrete porch and sobbed. I was grieving for the shame and isolation these women feel, for the pain they endure, the stigma and trauma that can result from a preventable medical condition, that their ultimate worth is their means of sexual satisfaction for their husbands, and to top it all off, the fact that their most private and delicate parts were being casually passed around in full color for a roomful of strange men to inspect.

The wave passed and as I was sitting trying to collect myself and generate some dignity to rejoin the meeting Prakash gingerly walked up (for the second time) to see if was alright. Looking at my sadly he indicated that he had also looked at the pictures as well while I was outside and felt, “very sensitive.” He pumped some water for me to wash my face, I took a deep breath, and we went back inside. Thankfully, everyone was engaged in quiet side conversation and kindly didn’t stop when I walked in. After a few minutes we picked up right where we had left off. As I now had quite a grasp of the problem we moved on to the final phase of our conversation and discussed solutions.

They explained that different treatments are available for each of the phase – though the latter stages can only be addressed through surgery the earlier stages can be corrected through a combination of exercise, lifestyle modifications, and the insertion of an uncomfortable platex ring that is changed every 3 months and holds the uterus in place while the ligaments heal.

We then discussed the program CDF implemented in their district, their desire to make the program national, and the general lack of interest in addressing the problem.

With the help of an INGO “Safe Motherhood” CDF has made treatment and surgery available to all women living in the district, paying the costs for those who cannot afford it themselves. When I asked them why there was so little attention to the problem they sadly remarked “it is an issue that only concerns women,” and continued to give evidence about the lack of concern for women’s issues by explaining that the national head of the government’s Women’s Affairs is a man.

Finally, Binot-ji explained that CDF desperately want to make this issue one of the main focuses of their work and asked if I had any ideas about how to make the international community interested in helping with the problem. Simultaneously I felt completely overwhelmed and completely moved. I gave them my word that would give the situation serious though and would do whatever little bit I could to help raise awareness of the issue. Writing this blog has been the first step.

Our efforts to bring the 4 members of COCAP’s Eastern Region together had repeatedly failed. But Arjun-dai and Prakash (respectively serving as COCAP’s Volunteer Eastern Region Focal Point Coordinator and paid Focal Point Facilitator with whom I am working most closely with this summer) and I all agreed that if we were actually going to write a joint proposal, there would HAVE to be a meeting. Since the biggest obstacle seemed to be getting the representatives from the Jhapa District to make the journey to Gaighat, Arjun-dai decided that we should take the meeting to them. That way they’d have no excuse.

So, Arjun-dai, Prakash, and I with our colleague Janak from the other Gaighat-based NGO, piled on to a bus at 6am to begin our 5-6 hour journey. After a little over an hour we stopped in Lahan, to pick up a few more colleagues from CDF. Luckily the bandha that was imposed while we were waiting for “only 2 minutes” for our CDF colleagues only lasted 30 minutes and when they showed up 45 minutes later we got on our way.

Our crammed bus traveled along the highway passing fields, clusters of thatched roof homes, road-side stalls, over a massive bridge spanning the Triveri River, and along the border with India to Ithari. Babies and children sat on our laps as passengers got off and on and the crowd waxed and waned. Several hours later we reached Ithari City that has sprung up on Nepal’s main highway solely to connect other destinations (and was one of the sites of the extended bandha I wrote about previously).

In Ithari we had “lunch” at 10am and waited for Sahek, another friend & colleague serving on the COCAP board who was going to join our party. He informed us he was supposedly on a bus leaving Biratnagar, a 30 minute drive away. I’ve learned that time estimates do not tend to be accurate here so I expected him to take at least an hour.

Thus, when we finally connected with him 2 hours later, I had received yet another lesson in patience and even deeper insight into Nepal’s social networks that take precedence over everything else. These networks seem of the utmost importance in all aspects of Nepali life, from politics to marriage arrangements to how work gets done. Yet, as hard as I try to wrap my brain around this fundamental cultural practice I still have only scratched the surface. I worry that these social networks will be both the strength and the curse of Nepal and will have to be dealt with directly for political reform to be successful.

Our now complete posse of 7 was surrounded by drivers of vehicles of all sizes as deals were searched for and prices for our transport were negotiated. After a sticky two hours on a microbus built for 15 and packed with 25 and another 45 minutes of rattling down the highway in a tin can adorned with faded, oily, and shredding red velour interior that was formerly a 1970 luxury bus we arrived at our destination, Gajendra.

Being that it was now just after 4pm and we were wilted, smelly, and exhausted (or at least I was…) I naturally assumed that they would take us to our hotel to clean up and rest and that we’d convene in the morning. There I go again with those assumptions!
We (the gaggle of men and I) all sat down, did formal introductions, and the meeting began with the taking of attendance and the creation of an agenda. The meeting and discussions lasted for another 5 hours and were continued back at the hotel following dinner until after midnight. (To fully illustrate my state to those of you who have first hand knowledge of my aversion, somewhere around 6pm I found myself reaching into the pile that had been placed on the table, peeling, and eating half a banana for some crucially needed energy.)

The topics covered over the 9ish hour meeting included how to expand the numbers of members in the region, how to convince central COCAP to provide funding for a quarterly regional meeting, how to improve their inter-region communication & collaboration, and a review of the successful on-going programming in each of the organizations to share best practices.

Most importantly considerable time was spent discussing the specifics of a joint proposal that Prakash and I are working on for the region as a whole. The plan is to launch a coordinated program of education and awareness in rural and marginalized communities about the crucially important Constitutional Assembly Election that is slotted to be held November 22. If we can get all the info we need from the member organizations, get the proposal written, and find funding, the program is designed to reach over 30,000 people across 8 districts in the next 4 ½ months and will be incredibly exciting and useful.

Another function of the meeting was that it allowed me to collect information regarding the communications situation of the various organizations. I wanted to gather a clear picture of the situation, and particularly the challenges to collaboration that exist. I was really surprised by the results, particularly as I learned that NESPEC (which I’d been thinking was basic) is actually quite well off as they have 2 computers and internet access (when it works) in the office.

None of the other organizations has a fax machine or internet access, and one of them can’t even afford a computer. To use email, which is an increasingly routine form of communication, particularly with the International NGOs that often partner with these organizations, they have leave the office and go to a cyber café. All the organizations have phones, but it turns out that the cost of making a call outside the local area is 8 rupees per minute, causing a 5 minute phone call to cost more that what Prakash pays for his dinner.

These technological realities and related substantial costs of time and money, combined with the regular bandhas, gave me an entirely new appreciation for the challenges involved in successful inter-agency collaboration – particularly when that collaboration requires information and document sharing. It doesn’t make it any less frustrating when we wait endlessly for someone to pass information along or come to a meeting, but it certainly makes the context and obstacles clearer in my mind.

All in all, the meeting was quite a success and in addition to the proposal, I’m trying to think of creative ways to support the ongoing collaboration of these organizations, which I truly believe holds incredible promise. I’ve gathered a wish list of items each organization would like to have to improve it’s effectiveness and capacity, and I’m trying to brainstorm some ways to get them these needed resources and to improve their ability to communicate regularly. AND I’d love some help with this… Anyone have any ideas?

Occasionally in the late afternoon a few friends from work and I will go get our favorite snack – beaten rice and curd (rice treated and flattened into the consistency of a dry cereal mixed with yogurt), topped w/ a little sugar. My attempts to pay are an ongoing game as somehow they always cut me out of the rotation. The only exception this day was that I announced it was my country’s independence day and that in celebration the least they could do was let me pay. Prakash and Ajay refused my offer, but later that night they told me we had been extended a formal invitation that we could not turn down to go have fish at Arjun-dai’s house (Arjun Kumar Dahal is the president of NESPEC, dai is an affectionate suffix denoting “older brother”). Apparently, after a little pow-wow they decided to help me celebrate in another way.

Along with some other friend from work we squeezed into the larger of the two rooms in which Arjun, his wife Indeera, and 4 year old son Insome live to have a true feast. Arjun-dai squatted with Indeera serving food onto our plates then handed them out with a flourish, proclaiming “gender balance” in case we hadn’t registered his application of the concept of which many of the men I work with are vocal advocates.

They had managed to buy a “big fish” from the market and we picked our way through the meat and bones of the stew (some of us less gracefully than others) along with a variety of curried and pickled vegetables and the watery dahl and mountain of rice that is the staple of all our meals. By the time I had cleaned off my plate and made it out to the hand pump, most of the men who had managed to eat twice the amount of food in half the time had already washed their hands and left their plates in a pile, as is customary for guests to do.

Arjun-dai was pumping the water for me to clean my hands and I asked Ajay, who had waited w/ me to finish and was also washing off, for directions about where to scrape the remains of my plate. He indicated I should just leave it in the pile. But knowing that Indeera would most likely be left to the whole stack herself, I decided to risk a mistake in appropriate guest etiquette and began organizing the dishes, insisting that I would help. “But you’ll need soap” Ajay said, in one last effort to dissuade me. At which point, with out missing a beat, Arjun-dai reached to a nearby ledge grabbed the soap and mangled brillo pad and handed it to me with a grin. We all started to laugh as I began to scrub and Ajay looked at us both, slightly dejected. “Here, you can rinse,” I said, and followed with a wink and, “Gender balance.” After a few minutes had passed, Indeera and the rest of the company had gathered outside to watch us. We were finished quickly, but not before Prakash had grabbed my camera.

As we rinsed our hands and feet and went back inside the house laughing, Ajay said, “This truly is independence day!” And for sure, it is one that I’ll never forget.

I had this great idea. I was going to go to Kathmandu to meet with several elections experts to do some networking for COCAP and to elicit their help with a joint proposal we’re working on locally. I had meetings scheduled, ideas to run by them, and was ready to go. Unfortunately so far, it is all for naught.

For almost a week now I’ve been prevented from traveling to Kathmandu (or even to either of the “nearby” cities from where I could fly) due to 3 different bandhas. These bandhas are in multiple cities, called by 3 different groups, and cumulatively they shut down all movement in the entire country.

As inconvenient as this has been for me, there have been serious ramifications particularly in Eastern Nepal as well as across the country. Trucks filled with vegetables are rotting, fuel shortages are occurring, grooms and their families are being prevented from traveling to their waiting brides, and colleagues at my organizations have been prevented from attending various skill building and program related trainings.

Several questions logically spring to the western mind. Why don’t they just drive around a different route that isn’t blocked? “Why isn’t some law enforcement body stopping these groups from shutting down the roads?” What can be done to make these bandhas stop?

Unfortunately, in the Nepalese context the answers are less than straightforward.
People don’t use alternative routes to blocked roads because there aren’t any. The entire country has one major highway (which, for the record isn’t as nice as most of the 2-lane dirt roads I’ve experienced back home). They are in the process of building some alternate roads, but they are slow in coming.

As for law enforcement, the government is hesitant to mobilize them at this point because they are afraid to destabilize things before the constitutional assembly election (some people I’ve talked to also theorize that certain members of the government actually want the violence to escalate and the country to destabilize because that provides a political advantage).

I’ve asked my Nepalese colleagues how they think this situation should be addressed. They emphatically believe that at heart of the issue is the need for “inclusion” in Nepal’s political life. If those in power were seriously in dialogue with representatives of these groups they would not have to resort to these means to try to make their voice heard.

Essentially, my colleagues disagree with the methods (and particularly the violence) of these groups but they fundamentally relate to the issues they are raising. They believe that if the government would sit down and listen to the demands of the groups, the bandhas would stop and there would be a possibility of actually addressing the pressing issues they are trying to raise.

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