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naomikritzerI dreamed two nights ago that I was in Nepal.
"I wanted to come sooner," I said to Sharada, who I'd found in Kathmandu. "But first I had a job that offered very little vacation time...and I thought it would be no problem if I waited a few years. And then the Maoist insurgency started. And it just didn't seem safe, especially with my kids." I looked around. "It wouldn't be safe with my kids now, so I left them at home."
I wanted to go to Dapcha, to see it. Dapcha is Sharada's home town; were I to visit Nepal, it's where I would probably go to try to find her. I can't remember if I made it there or not.
*
I went to Nepal in 1993, through the School for International Training. I was there for a semester, and had two homestays -- in a village, and one in Kathmandu. Of all the people I met, it's Sharada I think of most often; she was my host-sister in the village homestay.
This is actually a picture of Sharada with two of her friends, but it's one of my favorite snapshots of her. (Alas, I didn't take a very good camera with me; none of my pictures are as good as I would like.) Sharada is the girl in the middle. She was sixteen when I was there. On the left is a married friend of hers; this girl is only slightly older. You can tell she's married because of the red streak in the part of her hair, which is something worn by married women. On the right is her friend, cousin (I think) and next-door neighbor, Urmila.
Sharada and Urmila were finishing their last year of school; both were hoping to go to college. During my first trip to the village, Sharada said she wanted to be a teacher. When I returned for a week during our independent study period, to visit again, she confessed that really, she wanted to be a novelist. She had, in fact, written a novel, 70 pages long. This would be a pretty damn impressive accomplishment for an American sixteen-year-old. Sharada, however, lived in a house with no electricity or running water; it was seventy handwritten pages, probably written mostly by candlelight after her chores were done.
I believe her family were small landowners; they were Brahmins, with the last name Adhikari, and most Brahmins in this part of Nepal owned their small farms. (Nepal has its own set of caste issues, but they're very different from the caste issues in India. Most "castes" in Nepal would be more accurately described as ethnic groups. Nepali Brahmins do not tend to be the wealthiest group, but they're not the poorest, either.)
Nepali farming is extraordinarily low tech. Farming is done on terraces going up and down the sides of mountains; even aside from the issues of cost and fuel, tractors are not practical, and I didn't see horses used, either. All work was done by human labor. Sharada's family kept three water buffalos and a flock of goats; they went out each day to cut grass for the animals to eat. This task was also done by hand, with a small hand-held scythe. To cut grass, you'd squat, grab a handful of grass, cut it loose with the scythe, and toss it into a big basket you'd put on your back to carry home when it was full. This chore seemed to be done exclusively by women -- it was the chore that always got used as an example of undesirable work, or any time they wanted to convey the idea that a woman's work was never done.
Sharada was bright, determined, talented, and hardworking by any measure, and I desperately wanted her to have the opportunities she deserved. I was optimistic: she was the youngest daughter, her father was proud of her accomplishments and seemed rather indulgent towards her generally. He was also literate, though her mother was not. However, due to the extreme unreliability of the Nepali postal service, and the fact that I couldn't read or write Nepali and she had a lot of trouble with written English (though we spoke each other's languages well enough to communicate), I was not able to keep in touch with her.
*
When I was in Nepal in 1993, it was an extraordinarily safe country. Violence was rare, and even non-violent crimes against tourists were very rare. The average annual income of a Nepali is $251 -- statistics like this are incredibly deceptive for all sorts of reasons, but still, the fact that I walked around the country in $120 hiking boots gave me pause. I had brought a tape recorder with me; at a festival, someone borrowed it, and it disappeared into the crowd. I realized with some dismay that I might never see it again, yet it made its way back to me a few minutes later, none the worse for wear. One student in the group had her camera stolen. By another tourists, right before we left the country. I mean, I don't want to make it sound like some sort of everyone-is-so-perfect-and-unspoiled tribal paradise, because Nepal has its share of assholes just like everywhere else. But what I saw in 1993 was that this was a country that had so much going for it even as it had so many factors working against it.
The Maoist uprising started in 1996.
*
Dapcha was in the news in March; there was a confrontation there between Maoist rebels and soldiers, and 13 soldiers were killed. When I searched for articles about Dapcha last year, I found an older article that made it sound like they'd finally gotten the paved road everyone there wanted -- but that due to the insurgency, the once thriving little main street had been largely abandoned.
There are some obvious and not-so-obvious problems in using Google to find friends from third world countries. The most obvious problem is that people in Nepal are just less likely to be on the net. Dapcha proper had electricity in 1993, but only one TV, and no phones. Sharada's family's farm was in a cluster of houses that was a short walk downhill from the village. On my second visit, I saw what looked like telephone poles, and found out they were getting electricity in another month or two -- they were all pretty excited about it. Cell phones have radically transformed a lot of places like this now, so I'm sure it's not as off-the-grid as I remember, but still.
Also, Nepal is a country that tends to cluster its last names. Some huge percentage of Nepalis from the Newari ethnic group have the last name Shrestha, and Adhikari is similarly common; I don't know the relative commonness of the first names.
This hasn't stopped me from Googling, of course.
*
Sharada had a fifteen-year-old brother, Puskar. There is a Puskar Adhikari who's an engineer in the U.S. now. I doubt it's the same guy, though I haven't e-mailed him to ask.
I got two hits for Urmila Adhikari. One was a professor at Tribhuvan University. The other was a Maoist rebel who was summarily shot after being captured by Nepali police.
Sharada Adhikari gets a number of hits who all seem to be the same person. The Sharada found by Google is a children's author, and the editor of the first Nepali children's magazine. She won a prize a few years ago for her writing. I haven't been able to find a photograph, or her age, so I'm not sure. She has (Dhakal) in parentheses after her name -- I am not certain if this means that Dhakal was her maiden name and Adhikari her married name, or the reverse. I also found a Sharada Kafle (Adhikari) who was an office secretary for a group called the Association of District Development Committees of Nepal: since their purpose is "strengthening local democracy" I can't imagine that this group has fared well lately. There's a picture of Sharada Kafle; I can't decide if this could be my old friend or not. There is also a Sharada Adhikari who is a lecturer in linguistics at Tribhuvan University.
*
In my dream, Sharada was still sixteen, and it seemed like a perfectly reasonable time to visit Nepal. I saw no sign of violent protests, soldiers, shortages, or dicatatorial asshole monarchs.
Jimmy Carter apparently just decided he didn't want to visit Nepal next month. Even if I left Molly and Kiera at home, I wouldn't go right now, either.
I feel incredible admiration when I read about the pro-democracy protests. Last week, the leaders of the banned political parties acknowledged that they've become a true people's movement. In 1993, democracy in Nepal was new; I saw incredible enthusiasm and optimism, to the point that my host family wanted to know my political affiliation. I said I was a Democrat, and got a puzzled look, followed by, "oh, yes. We like democracy, too!" Nepalis deserve democracy. They have a right to it.
But damn, I want this to end before any more people get hurt.
"I wanted to come sooner," I said to Sharada, who I'd found in Kathmandu. "But first I had a job that offered very little vacation time...and I thought it would be no problem if I waited a few years. And then the Maoist insurgency started. And it just didn't seem safe, especially with my kids." I looked around. "It wouldn't be safe with my kids now, so I left them at home."
I wanted to go to Dapcha, to see it. Dapcha is Sharada's home town; were I to visit Nepal, it's where I would probably go to try to find her. I can't remember if I made it there or not.
*
I went to Nepal in 1993, through the School for International Training. I was there for a semester, and had two homestays -- in a village, and one in Kathmandu. Of all the people I met, it's Sharada I think of most often; she was my host-sister in the village homestay.
This is actually a picture of Sharada with two of her friends, but it's one of my favorite snapshots of her. (Alas, I didn't take a very good camera with me; none of my pictures are as good as I would like.) Sharada is the girl in the middle. She was sixteen when I was there. On the left is a married friend of hers; this girl is only slightly older. You can tell she's married because of the red streak in the part of her hair, which is something worn by married women. On the right is her friend, cousin (I think) and next-door neighbor, Urmila.
Sharada and Urmila were finishing their last year of school; both were hoping to go to college. During my first trip to the village, Sharada said she wanted to be a teacher. When I returned for a week during our independent study period, to visit again, she confessed that really, she wanted to be a novelist. She had, in fact, written a novel, 70 pages long. This would be a pretty damn impressive accomplishment for an American sixteen-year-old. Sharada, however, lived in a house with no electricity or running water; it was seventy handwritten pages, probably written mostly by candlelight after her chores were done.
I believe her family were small landowners; they were Brahmins, with the last name Adhikari, and most Brahmins in this part of Nepal owned their small farms. (Nepal has its own set of caste issues, but they're very different from the caste issues in India. Most "castes" in Nepal would be more accurately described as ethnic groups. Nepali Brahmins do not tend to be the wealthiest group, but they're not the poorest, either.)
Nepali farming is extraordinarily low tech. Farming is done on terraces going up and down the sides of mountains; even aside from the issues of cost and fuel, tractors are not practical, and I didn't see horses used, either. All work was done by human labor. Sharada's family kept three water buffalos and a flock of goats; they went out each day to cut grass for the animals to eat. This task was also done by hand, with a small hand-held scythe. To cut grass, you'd squat, grab a handful of grass, cut it loose with the scythe, and toss it into a big basket you'd put on your back to carry home when it was full. This chore seemed to be done exclusively by women -- it was the chore that always got used as an example of undesirable work, or any time they wanted to convey the idea that a woman's work was never done.
Sharada was bright, determined, talented, and hardworking by any measure, and I desperately wanted her to have the opportunities she deserved. I was optimistic: she was the youngest daughter, her father was proud of her accomplishments and seemed rather indulgent towards her generally. He was also literate, though her mother was not. However, due to the extreme unreliability of the Nepali postal service, and the fact that I couldn't read or write Nepali and she had a lot of trouble with written English (though we spoke each other's languages well enough to communicate), I was not able to keep in touch with her.
*
When I was in Nepal in 1993, it was an extraordinarily safe country. Violence was rare, and even non-violent crimes against tourists were very rare. The average annual income of a Nepali is $251 -- statistics like this are incredibly deceptive for all sorts of reasons, but still, the fact that I walked around the country in $120 hiking boots gave me pause. I had brought a tape recorder with me; at a festival, someone borrowed it, and it disappeared into the crowd. I realized with some dismay that I might never see it again, yet it made its way back to me a few minutes later, none the worse for wear. One student in the group had her camera stolen. By another tourists, right before we left the country. I mean, I don't want to make it sound like some sort of everyone-is-so-perfect-and-unspoiled tribal paradise, because Nepal has its share of assholes just like everywhere else. But what I saw in 1993 was that this was a country that had so much going for it even as it had so many factors working against it.
The Maoist uprising started in 1996.
*
Dapcha was in the news in March; there was a confrontation there between Maoist rebels and soldiers, and 13 soldiers were killed. When I searched for articles about Dapcha last year, I found an older article that made it sound like they'd finally gotten the paved road everyone there wanted -- but that due to the insurgency, the once thriving little main street had been largely abandoned.
There are some obvious and not-so-obvious problems in using Google to find friends from third world countries. The most obvious problem is that people in Nepal are just less likely to be on the net. Dapcha proper had electricity in 1993, but only one TV, and no phones. Sharada's family's farm was in a cluster of houses that was a short walk downhill from the village. On my second visit, I saw what looked like telephone poles, and found out they were getting electricity in another month or two -- they were all pretty excited about it. Cell phones have radically transformed a lot of places like this now, so I'm sure it's not as off-the-grid as I remember, but still.
Also, Nepal is a country that tends to cluster its last names. Some huge percentage of Nepalis from the Newari ethnic group have the last name Shrestha, and Adhikari is similarly common; I don't know the relative commonness of the first names.
This hasn't stopped me from Googling, of course.
*
Sharada had a fifteen-year-old brother, Puskar. There is a Puskar Adhikari who's an engineer in the U.S. now. I doubt it's the same guy, though I haven't e-mailed him to ask.
I got two hits for Urmila Adhikari. One was a professor at Tribhuvan University. The other was a Maoist rebel who was summarily shot after being captured by Nepali police.
Sharada Adhikari gets a number of hits who all seem to be the same person. The Sharada found by Google is a children's author, and the editor of the first Nepali children's magazine. She won a prize a few years ago for her writing. I haven't been able to find a photograph, or her age, so I'm not sure. She has (Dhakal) in parentheses after her name -- I am not certain if this means that Dhakal was her maiden name and Adhikari her married name, or the reverse. I also found a Sharada Kafle (Adhikari) who was an office secretary for a group called the Association of District Development Committees of Nepal: since their purpose is "strengthening local democracy" I can't imagine that this group has fared well lately. There's a picture of Sharada Kafle; I can't decide if this could be my old friend or not. There is also a Sharada Adhikari who is a lecturer in linguistics at Tribhuvan University.
*
In my dream, Sharada was still sixteen, and it seemed like a perfectly reasonable time to visit Nepal. I saw no sign of violent protests, soldiers, shortages, or dicatatorial asshole monarchs.
Jimmy Carter apparently just decided he didn't want to visit Nepal next month. Even if I left Molly and Kiera at home, I wouldn't go right now, either.
I feel incredible admiration when I read about the pro-democracy protests. Last week, the leaders of the banned political parties acknowledged that they've become a true people's movement. In 1993, democracy in Nepal was new; I saw incredible enthusiasm and optimism, to the point that my host family wanted to know my political affiliation. I said I was a Democrat, and got a puzzled look, followed by, "oh, yes. We like democracy, too!" Nepalis deserve democracy. They have a right to it.
But damn, I want this to end before any more people get hurt.
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no subject
Date: 2006-04-17 04:02 am (UTC)Hmm
no subject
Date: 2006-04-17 09:43 am (UTC)A fine bit of exposition. I have been in love with Nepal since I planned a climbing visit there in 1969 which fell through due to illness. I deplore the violence and "revolution" that has gripped the country these ten years past.
Good luck with your search. I suspect an email inquiry won't hurt.
wil