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.
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.
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.
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).
Hi Simon
ReplyDeleteVery nice blog in which you have made a mind-blowing reflection of your stay in Siddipur. I like the photographs and powerful expressions of feelings that I could see in the thread of your paragraph. Keep it up.
On thing, I like the idea of Engali.. Please collect some more varieties of English there..
Good luck
Prem
Nice pictures! ....Looks like River Stone, kind of.
ReplyDeleteStrawberryguavagoatbraintaranto I hope your new home is excellent! I once played Borat in an approved hazing ritual where we served chicken hearts to freshman. Just thought you should know.
ReplyDeleteRedface = Ingy in case it doesn't show up as me