Holi - day

I noticed when adding photos for the last blog that I had neglected to mention my Holi day– Holi being a popular Hindu festival where people throw coloured powder or water on each other. When I asked several locals why did this no one could really give me much of an answer – just that it is a day to have fun, eat, play music and dance in the streets and generally run amok throwing colour at each other, as well as, for some, indulge in more than a few drinks. I went down to my favourite tea shop to wish them happy Holi. Kamala asked if she could put a ‘little’ red powder of me – “just for Holi” – and on giving the ok had my face smothered in red powder. The photo of Kamala and me looking somewhat dishevelled was after she had drenched me with water from the local well to get most of it off (it took a long shower later to remove the rest.) I had bought her some incense as a Holi gift – although this is not the usual thing to do – and she gave me a coke and some flattened rice with meat stew. This was the meal she had cooked for the local stall holders, who had pooled their money for the feast and were sitting down together on the grass at the back of the tea shop to celebrate the holiday. It was very spicy and a bit gristly – so I politely ate it washed down with lots of water while trying not to gag, just managing to clear my plate.  

My next Holi appointment was lunch at the home of Birjesh my taxi driver friend. He came and picked me up at the centre and we drove back to his home winding up the car windows when passing through villages to avoid another shower of colour. Roads were multicoloured and at times blocked by processions of ‘holi- day’ makers. When we arrived I was introduced to all the family - mother and father, aunties and uncles, cousins, brothers and sisters - then seated in the best room – the parents bedroom - by myself with the fan on (fortunately the electricity just happened to be working at the time as it was quite hot) and offered a huge plate of food, which continued to be replenished as I ate. The food was a special version of dhal bhat tarkarai (lentil soup, rice and various vegetable dishes)  - the Nepali staple and favourite.  As well there was a plateful of various home made sweets, which had been placed on my table when I sat down and, not knowing what they were, had mistakenly eaten a couple of as the first course!  Although I tried my best there was no way I could really do justice to the meal. I hope my repeated thank yous compensated for my poor show in the eating stakes. While I was having my meal the family all sat or lay around in the adjoining room waiting for me to finish before they would have their own. Birjesh managed to wolf his down in the kitchen as soon as I’d finished, eating twice what I had managed to consume in half an hour in only a few minutes. I was then given a tour of the family’s farm, which consisted of several large vegetable plots and a cow stall, said my goodbyes and was driven back home holding a parting gift of a small plastic bag of homemade yogurt. It was very really very generous and sweet of Birjesh to invite me like this and also interesting to meet his family and see where he lived - a small concrete house with two rooms downstairs with small separate kitchen and two rooms with verandah above which were accessed from the outside. I guess the family were curious to see me too and also probably a bit relieved when I left so they could relax and enjoy their meal.

The next and final Holi activity was the naming ceremony of Binisha, the baby daughter of Bishnu, our cook, which just happened to coincide with Holi. I rode my bike there together with Sita the centre’s kitchen worker so she could show me the way. Another meal had to be eaten – of biryani and chicken curry - this time in a tiny one-roomed mud and thatch roofed house that Bishnu had built, and I was asked to give a blessing to the baby, as were most of the guests, by placing some red powder and rice paste on the baby’s forehead and some money in her tiny palm. I also offered some small gifts to the family. As a special  foreign guest I was given the best seat and a relative was sent out to buy me a coke.  By the end of the day I was feeling quite tired and slightly queasy! But I wouldn’t have changed a thing (except perhaps for the gristly meat at breakfast). It was lovely to meet some of the people who I have got to know through the centre in their own homes and on their terms rather than in their role as workers.

All this was a week ago. And now today have spent some time with Birjesh again, this time shopping in ‘lovely’ down town Bhairahawa. Watermelon has just come into season so we bought three big chunks to eat on the spot (the carpenter came shopping too) as well as two whole ones to take back for them meditators -  It’s obviouslgy a rare and amusing site to see a foreign woman slurping watermelon in the streets of Bhairahawa. One of our tasks was to pick up my flight ticket back to Kathmandu as the first leg of my trip back to oz (generously paid for by Sayalay on behalf of the centre). Birjesh and I both got a bit sad thinking about my departure – “why are you leaving” he asked. His wife is due to have a baby in a few months – and big news  - my son and daughter in law are also parents-in waiting. I am to be a grandmother in about 6 ½ months.

The shoping trip also included the purchase of a big plastic zipped bag to pack and leave a lot of my things here for the next visit. Who knows when that will be  - 2 months later or next year or . . ? There is certainly pressure or at least encouragement and a sense of being welcome to return, which feels good. But am also looking forward to seeing family and being in dear old oz for a while – albeit with some trepidation due to my homeless state.