Dashain: the Festival of Feasts

Dashain is a big deal in Nepal. It is said to be the equivalent of Christmas in the Christian world. Schools, shops, and government offices close for up to a month. People move all over the country to visit family members and be together for the offerings, feasts, and prayers. Two of the more important parts of the holiday are the sacrificing of a goat by each family and the giving of tika between family members.

Below is a photo essay from the eighth day (Asthami) of Dashain when the goats are sacrificed. There are some graphic images of dead animals. Skim over photographs as necessary.

Goats in Kathmandu on display before they are sold.

Our goat having his last meal.

The moment of sacrifice. The man wielding the knife is a friend of my family. He rode in on his motorcycle, drank tea, killed the goat, cleaned his knife, and rode onto his next sacrifice. He completes more than 100 goat sacrifices in a day. It is extremely important to sever the goats head completely from the body in one clean swing. If more than one cut is necessary the family will have bad luck for one year. The man is quite talented.

There was a quick movement of hands to catch the windpipe to keep the lower end of it from receding into the body.

Ujjwol with the still warm goat head.

After the goat was brought inside, my father smeared the fresh blood on his hands and pressed them against the brick above the main entrance to the house. All houses that sacrifice a goat must make the hand prints. I was told that this is a tradition from the days of the kings. The king would go around town after the sacrifices and would give a goat to each house that did not display handprints.

Manju boiling water for the cleaning process. Notice the plastic wrappers used as fuel. In the winter when it gets chilly, many households without heating systems will burn anything they can find including garbage.

The family removes the hair from the body using boiling water, metal cups for scraping, and razor blades.

My dad and brother cleaning out the lungs of the goat (an effective technique).

A hearty pile of goat meat, lungs, stomach, heart, and other innards.

Manju cooks up some of the meat in the house's old kitchen. The amount of smoke in the room was unbearable.

That's me receiving tika from my grandmother (hajuramma). Tika is a mixture of rice and colored powders that is imprinted on one's forehead. The oldest member of the family gives tika to all of the younger members. Then the next oldest member gives tika to all the younger members and so on. Most people wear both red and yellow tika. Widows wear only yellow.

A small shrine set up in my house including guavas, tea, vegetables, and our goat's head. This collection of offerings stayed assembled (unrefrigerated) for more than a day.

Pretty Pokhara

Here are some images from my recent trip to Pokhara (200 km west of KTM):

The view from the World Peace Pagoda overlooking Pokhara.

Not the most confidence inspiring sight to see dozens of sunken boats by the shore.

The mayhem surrounding the boat launch on Phewa Lake.

The island on Phewa Lake.

A boy standing near a shrine on the island.

There were many people on the island.

Holy men near Barahi Temple on the island.

Some men hanging out 30 km South of Pokhara with Mt. Macchapucchre looming in the background.

A beautiful camping spot.

Paragliders flying over Pokhara.

What a Week. Now with Photos!

After driving about 30 minutes outside of Kathmandu and in a state of mild carsickness I dropped off my bags at my new homestay family’s home and made the short 3-minute walk to the Siddhimangal School, my teaching home in Siddhipur for the next 9 months. My week then started off with a bang.

I was greeted at the school gate by my counterpart teacher (Dwaraka) and led into the central courtyard. I was then confronted with the most overwhelming, over the top, and charming welcoming ceremony I have ever experienced. As I was processed down the center of the courtyard, on my left sat a hundred or more primary school students spelling out ‘welcome’ with their bodies and on my right was another hundred or so students all offering me colorful flowers. My hands were quickly overflowing with the ridiculous amount of flowers and my face brimming over with smiles. I made my way into one of the classrooms and was joined by most of the 20 or so other teachers and a group of grade 8 students. After many speeches in English, Nepali, and Engali (some sort of mixture of English, Nepali, Hindi, andNewari) I was serenaded by fun and lively Nepali songs. I made a short speech (in Engali) and Dwaraka and I headed off to teach some English classes.

Siddhimangal students.

Students scream for their desired bingo numbers at a program ushering in the Dashain festival.

Dwaraka is in his mid thirties, tall, skinny, and has a stylish blonde whiff of hair above his right brow. He is amazingly friendly, speaks good English, and has so far been a fantastic mentor at school. He has provided me with some entertaining moments as well. During our first class together he introduced me as an American and proceeded to describe, in a full-fledged Borat accent, that “America is the most developed country in the world.” I laughed (quietly). We are getting along well.

Siddhimangal School is a public school with 15 classrooms about 10 kilometers south of Kathmandu in Siddhipur Village (population of about 4,000). The school has kids from pre-K (nursery) to 12th grade. There are 300 or so students in total. I will be teaching 6 classes per day Sunday through Wednesday (from 8:30am to 4pm) with students in grades 7-10. Most students have at least a rudimentary level of English and there is an all star in each class that can speak almost fluently. Teaching has been very interesting and quite exhausting. I collapse on my bed, which is about 6 inches to short for me, each afternoon when I get home.

My new homestay family, whom I’ll be living with for the next 9 months, has been very welcoming. My father, mother, grandmother, and 17-year old brother live in a modern home built behind a classically Newari building just off the main road that leads from Kathmandu. There is a guava (amba in Nepali) tree in the backyard and I have free reign to pick ripe pieces whenever I choose. I’m averaging about 6-8 guavas a day. Not a bad deal. The surrounding area filled with rice paddies, rolling hills, and small houses is absolutely breathtaking. The air is clean, the people friendly, and walking trails endless. With a view of Kathmandu City and the airport in the near distance, there is quite a juxtaposition of rural and urban here.

The view from near my home.

My new brother, Ujjwol, standing in the river.

This past Friday kicked off the two-week festival called Dashain (the equivalent of Christmas in the States) where the days are filled with visiting family, giving gifts, receiving tika (the colored rice mixture that goes on your forehead), and eating heartily. On the 10th day many families sacrifice a goat and have a huge family gathering. As per tradition, the goat must be slaughtered with a single swing of a sword through the neck. Anymore than one swing to kill the animal is considered very bad luck. I am trying to get the honors of wielding the sword but responses to my requests have thus far been lukewarm. We’ll see how that turns out.

On another exciting note, I made a visit to my original homestay family in Kathmandu recently to pick up some clothes I forgot there and was quickly invited (more like demanded that I attend) to lunch. This is the Thakali home where the cuisine is exquisite. So although I had just had a rather large breakfast I had no problem at least attempting to eat another tasty meal. On my plate, along with the usual Dhal Bhat, potatoes, and saag (spinach) was a bowl holding a stew of some sort with lumps that looked like small pieces of scrambled egg. I had a taste (it was good enough) and I was then told that the dish is called ‘gidi.’ ‘Gidi?’ I asked. The word was quickly translated to ‘goat brain.’ If you like the taste and texture of egg and don’t mind some goat ear or nose in every other bite, this is the dish for you. I don’t plan to eat gidi again.

Goat gidi (Goat brains).