Here’s a secret that we can never mention again: I cried on Thanksgiving in front of a room full of strangers. I was helping my family cook and serve dinner for 30 election officials who were staying at the school for the elections. It was so cold that night, and it was really late, and I was tired, and everyone was speaking so fast I couldn’t understand them, and I thought about what I’d be doing at home. The parade would be on, and my dad would be telling everyone how the marching band had performed in it a few years ago. There’d be delicious food in the oven (no rice or lentils in sight!) and I could eat however much I wanted or didn’t want. So yeah, I was pretty sad.
My host sister noticed I was crying and asked what was wrong. I suddenly had everyone’s attention. Stuttering through the tears and being suddenly under the spotlight, I explained a little bit about the holiday. My host father told me not to worry, that we’d also eat together. So after all the election officials finished eating, there we all sat on the mud floor, the walls illuminated by flickering candles, while rats scuttled around nearby. For possibly the first time in his life, my host father ate in the same room as the rest of the family. We sat there, all facing different directions, no one making a sound, eating overcooked rice and salty lentils. And like any Nepali dinner, as soon as they were finished, everyone immediately took off for bed without saying anything to anyone.
The Christmas tree, complete with paper ornaments
Christmas was a significant improvement from Thanksgiving. I arrived in Kathmandu on Christmas afternoon and checked into a hotel, determined to have a hot shower and temporarily regain a little bit of the life I’d left last January. As soon as I arrived, however, a friend notified me that an NGO was having a special Christmas celebration and I was welcomed to join. I really didn’t want to, but after my friend’s assurances that we’d be finished by 5 at the very latest, and that I needn’t venture outside my hotel for the rest of the week, I agreed to go. When I arrived at their shelter for young girls affected by horrific domestic violence, I was immediately surrounded by young girls who just wanted to play and talk. Their English was amazing, and they were so eager to hang out and meet us. Basketballs, soccer balls, and badminton rackets appeared, and games started forming.
Singing Christmas Songs
After a while, we were summoned to seats around the Christmas tree (an existing tree was decorated with paper and some stuffed animals) where the program was starting. The girls had prepared a few Christmas songs mixed in with traditional Nepali dances. They’re favorite was “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” They sang that one three times. Afterwards, there was cake and everyone got presents (even me). It was weird receiving a present when I’d contributed nothing and only been there for a few hours, but it was also exciting.
The Christmas Cake
The kids got slippers and shampoo, the women that worked with them got duffel bags, and I and my friends got a handmade bracelet and a picture frame each. We hung out with the kids until late in the evening, and I didn’t even remember my vow to be back by 5pm. After saying goodbye to the kids, my friends and I went out for dinner. It was my first time getting mulled wine, and it was so good. I also had some delicious food (pasta and pizza), and was perfectly content.
By the time New Years had rolled around, I’d moved out of the hotel and into the girls’ hostel at that NGO. It was a lot of fun living with all those energetic teenagers and preteens. For New Years, my friends and I decided to make our own mulled wine and order delivery. Of course, the Kathmandu delivery app said they had received too many orders so ours didn’t go through. To our surprise, however, the girls knocked on our door to deliver takeout that the NGO had ordered for us! The Executive Director of the NGO (stay tuned for more in an upcoming post) has spent a lot of time abroad in Italy and the US, even speaking at Cornell in 2003, so she knew that a lot of Americans like to get takeout on New Year’s Eve, and figured we would also enjoy the surprise.
Even though the takeout was still Nepali food (Tibetan dumplings called MoMo), it was such a welcome, thoughtful surprise. We ate the takeout with the shelter girls for a little while, explaining a little about the holiday, and telling them all “we’ll see you next year!” which they were delighted by. We retreated to our rooms in the hostel, where we had more mulled wine and tried not to fall asleep before midnight. (In the village, I go to bed at 8:30, so staying up that late was a real challenge). We were talking and ended up missing midnight by a few minutes! As soon as we realized it, we headed off to bed.
A belated Happy New Year to you all!
My 8th Grade Students Making Snowflakes!
Related Posts
