Winding down

Variable weather from very hot and sticky to cool and wet. Electricity comes and goes. Water reduced to a trickle some days, but the new pump is wonderfully efficient. Most of the schools have closed for the monsoon break, so David is busy preparing teaching schemes for when he returns in September.
The last week of ‘proper’ work before the summer break was busy and enjoyable for me – I completed the last week of the English training; a delightful group of teachers to work with, and of course very easy to work in English all the time. I also managed to spend some time with the primary teachers as they finished off their portfolios. They are still spending huge amounts of time and effort producing beautiful ‘artistic’ pictures (peacocks made from stuck on sequins, rabbits with cotton wool fur, glittering flowers) and look confused when I ask how they could be used for teaching and learning. The reality is that they will join the piles of decaying and dust covered efforts produced by previous generations of trainees. I attended the ‘closing ceremony’ after 2.5 months of training. 4 ½ hours of speeches, followed by singing and dancing and tearful farewells.
Yet more training started on Sunday – a 5 day workshop for science teachers organised by Nepali Academy of Science and Technology. The purpose is to help them make physics materials that they can take back to their schools for practical demonstrations. On the first day they attempted to make electric bells from a power pack and assorted metal strips. After 6 hours of concentrated work, some managed to produce a scratching vibration. They all have excellent scientific knowledge, but so little ‘hands on’ experience. Advice such as ‘try connecting the red wire to the red terminal’ was gratefully received. Day 2 was more hazardous as they attempted to demonstrate Ohm’s Law. The training room was festooned with pieces of wire at head, neck, knee and ankle height, as 30 participants attempted to use the single power socket in the training room. Amazing that we are all still alive.
Three months after the election has seen no change. PM Koirala continues to make all decisions; he announced his resignation 3 weeks ago, but is still PM because only the head of state can accept his resignation. Following the deposing of the king, there is no head of state until the new government elect or select one ….. they have not yet decided how the process should work. And if Koirala becomes the new president, as Nepali Congress want, will he accept his own resignation? The CA has attempted to meet every day, but have not yet managed to conduct a session as dissenting factions with conflicting and increasingly ridiculous demands disrupt proceedings by shouting and chanting. Daily newspaper reports fluctuate between ‘breakthrough imminent’ to ‘no breakthrough in talks’.
A boring last week of finishing off paper work and reports for NCED and VSO, enlivened by lots of people dropping in for a chat. We ate excellent daal bhat at Durga’s house on Tuesday, followed by surfing Nepali TV channels, featuring political news (no news) and Nepali love songs. At 7:30 he asked if we wanted to stay the night, so we realised we had overstayed our welcome. We have been laden with gifts to take to his daughter in London. As the moon was obscured by thunder clouds and there were no street lights we got lost on the way home and became entangled in a wedding procession and the usual Pamplona-like stampede of cows and bulls to feast on the day’s debris at the market.
Govind’s attempts to find a suitably educated match for his lovely daughter Deepti have at last been successful, although he is financially crippled by the 5 lakh dowry (more than 3 years salary). After a week of wedding events, we attended the party on Friday afternoon, panting after our colleagues on their motor bikes to a ‘party palace’. Deepti had disappeared to wash her hair. We sat in a line on plastic chairs for 10 minutes, waiting for the daal bhat to be ready. Before we had finished shovelling rice into our mouths we were summoned to deliver the ‘ETC present’ – yet another rice cooker. A wet haired and exhausted Deepti reappeared; we did not meet her new husband. Within 5 minutes we were back on the bikes and cycling home.
Karna is researching places for his +2 programme (equivalent of sixth form), with long discussions with us each evening and advice from my colleagues. He is taking entrance tests for several different colleges. Term starts next week and we want to get him ‘settled’ before we leave for Kathmandu.
To Kathmandu on July 14, where we will meet our landlord. We think he is trying to sell the house and will not return to Biratnagar. A few days of VSO work and meeting friends before flying to England. Blog will resume when we return at the end of August.

Happy ducks and croaking frogs

The monsoon has arrived with vertical sheets of rain, a profusion of new lakes, happy ducks, croaking frogs from dusk to dawn, wallowing buffaloes and mud, mud, mud.
Madan Nath from NCED arrived last weekend to start a 10 day programme for English ‘master trainers’ from central and eastern Terai. When I arrived at work on Monday morning, the group had already started, having decided a 7am start would enable them to finish for the day before it got really hot. He presented me with a schedule, with my name against delivery of sessions for 3 days. Although I explained that I have no experience of teaching EFL, he seems to think that being a native speaker is enough. It is at least giving me a chance to talk to someone who writes policy and training materials, so I am being very cooperative! Delighted to see some familiar faces amongst the participants, including our friend Rajendra from Ilam. On the second morning, my arrival was described in the daily report: “Madam Deborah joined our training. She is very old, but energetic. She is very marvellous”. One of the biggest challenges is nasta break; while my friends consume daal bhat, I am challenged by a whole ripe mango that I have to try and eat while sustaining a conversation. While my fellow trainers deliver sessions where the intricate differences between grammar-translation and communicative methods are discussed in detail, I have developed games, role plays and other interactive activities.
David leaves for school at 5:30am and I follow an hour later. Once the masters’ training is over, I join the headteachers and / or the secondary English training. I am also trying to get to see the primary teachers on teaching practice, but with 57 in 6 different schools, its impossible to follow that up properly.
Meanwhile the king has left the palace, leaving his mother and concubines behind, presumably to become exhibits in the museum that the Maoists intend to make. Political stagnation continues.
A week later: masters training now over, so my time has been divided between schools in the hope that primary trainees will actually be teaching rather than organising musical chairs (no chairs, lots of mud) or making materials for their ‘exhibition’ – artistic rather than having any relevance to teaching and learning. Back to the ETC at tiffin time to see the secondary English group that I now teach every afternoon. David is back on the day shift so life is returning to some normality. Our friend Anil, a volunteer with an NGO in Kathmandu, arrived on Thursday, having survived the 15 hour bus journey with a colleague to visit a water and sanitation project in Jhapa; nights on a double bed in the office with several others and daal bhat 3 times a day. Strange and delightful to have a friend for a meal and a bottle of wine (the first in Biratnagar!); talking and listening is exhausting after our usual isolation.
A treat this week was a visit to the local girls’ school. I know Mina Pokharel, the deputy head quite well, as she comes to the ETC to train Science teachers. She is a very good trainer, wears beautiful clothes, has short hair (very unusual for Nepali women) and rides a motorbike. Her daughters are at school in India. The head of the school, Bina Koirala, has just completed the headteacher training; she is due to retire next year. Like Mina, she is very smart, with a fantastic sari collection – a different one for every day of the 30 day training. I arrived at school at 9:50 on Thursday morning to find most of the staff present, and 600 girls lining up for assembly. Primary students were in ragged blue dresses, while the secondary students wore blue and white kurta surwaal. Grade 10 girls led Saraswati’s (goddess of education) prayer, followed by the national anthem. It was then grade 6’s turn to pick up the litter on the field before going to class. I met all the staff – 9 women and 8 men, before being taken on a tour of the school and being introduced to every class. Taught grade 6 for part of the lesson before grade 10 English. Delightful, well motivated girls. After a science class with Mina, she showed me the cavernous science lab which resembled Miss Haversham’s house, before going to take her optional computer class. To my amazement there are 5 working computers in a newly refurbished room, with a group of students doing fairly advanced computer graphics. A very enjoyable morning and possibly a place of refuge when things are slack at the ETC.
Newspaper headlines are depressing. After one meeting of the new CA when the republic was declared, there has been no further meeting. Koirala continues to make all decisions; strikes are starting again. One Minister locked six of his junior ministers in a toilet for 3 days because they did not agree with him. Maoists have announced they are quitting the non-existent government. MEd students taking their final exams rampaged when invigilators tried to stop them cheating, attacking teachers, ripping up examination papers and preventing others from completing their exams.
Chhatra, our landlord is back in Kathmandu and phones daily with instructions for Karna, who remains cheerful and is a delight to have around. Yesterday he cycled to India to buy shears to attempt to tame the vegetation in the garden. SLC results (GCSE equivalent) were published on Monday; we were overjoyed to discover that Karna has achieved a first division pass, so discussions about his future are underway. His brother, Durna, has also passed, and is likely to go to Malaysia to earn money, as so many young Nepalis do.

More strikes

David started the early shift at Bokhari on Monday, leaving home at 5:30am. The staff and children were delighted to see him and he enjoyed his day helping to plan teaching and learning for the next two weeks. My primary trainees started their teaching practice; I visited two of the three training schools, and found them excited and working hard on timetables and lesson plans.
Tuesday: David home by 7am as a bandha called for 15 days to protest at the lack of textbooks in schools. There were a number of incidents at the end of last week, with students protesting and the DEO office closed. It seems that the Ministry has called the current action, presumably to divert attention from the fact that they are responsible for the production and distribution of textbooks. Ironically, David has seen his best teaching since the teachers were relieved of the constraints of the textbook. I went to school at 10 to see what was happening in the training schools. All the trainees were at Shankapur with about 30 children, and mothers were bringing new little ones. Most of the regular teachers were there, so we sat in the porch on plastic chairs and chatted about what we might be able to do. My friend Rekha arrived and was delighted to see me as she is timetabled for grade 4 and 5 English this year, and needs help. Some girls who I taught in grade 4 came to chat, and I was dismayed to discover that Sony, the brightest girl in the class has got married (age 12) and will not return to school. Tragic. We spent the morning looking at lessons plans and teaching materials and I returned to the ETC to help sort out a contingency plan.
The government then announced a three day public holiday to coincide with the first session of the new parliament. Training continued at the ETC, while David spent the day converting his alphabet charts from Q is for queen to Q is for queue in recognition of the new republic.
Wednesday Jestha 15 (May 28). The new parliament met and the end of the monarchy and beginning of the Democratic Republic of Nepal was passed by 560 votes to 4. The start of the meeting was delayed by many hours, a few bombs and fears of a military coup. It is likely that Koirala, the 83year old PM, will become a constitutional head of state, and that Prachanda, the Maoist leader, will become PM when they meet again next week.
On the home front, the water problem seems to be resolved at last. A reserve tank with a motor has been installed downstairs so we can pump water to the roof. The non-functional taps in the house have been replaced and the kitchen tap now has proper water flow after the drip drip drip of the last year. Several leaks have appeared in the pipework, but are being fixed. Karna and his brother Durna are living happily upstairs and working hard during the day and studying in the evening. They have been a great help in sorting out the plumbing work, and Karna’s English improves every day.
MoE U turn on Monday when they declared all schools must reopen. Half the staff, 3 trainees, one small child and a dog were at Balmandir across the road from the ETC where I checked first before deciding it was not worth ‘doing the rounds’ on my bicycle. At last I got my ‘training of trainers’ underway, only 90 minutes late. 5 each of English, Nepali and Social Studies part timers arrived on Monday afternoon for allocation of the one month training that starts on Wednesday. The ETC staff also took part; we’ll see if there is any difference. Pandit Guru, the Hindu priest who teaches Nepali has had a makeover. Formally only wearing white – white trousers, kurta, shoes, socks, cap, topped off with a bobble cap on cold days, covering his white hair. Today he was in saffron robes and saffron topi covering bright orange hair.
Teaching resumed in schools in a half hearted way on Wednesday, but few lessons were actually completed and teachers and students didn’t manage to last the whole day. I was delighted to find that the nursery at Balmandir now has some toys and I played happily on the floor with tiny grubby children while waiting for the trainees to go and teach. Sadly at Shankapur, the tinies are put into the grade 1 classroom and there is no provision for them. Helped Kalpana organise a game on Friday, before helping Gita with what turned out to be a really good English lesson with grade 3, once she abandoned her lesson plan. Teaching finished after period 2, when the male trainees decided to take all the students outside for musical chairs. I arrived back at the ETC to find that Durga had taken my suggestions about more variety of activities to heart and had prepared a very good role play activity for the English teachers in the afternoon. On Friday evening, a surprise call from Dinesh, back from 2 months in Qatar, where he worked in tourism, taking Americans and Europeans out into the Arabian Sea on a dhow and organising watersports activities. A huge culture shock for a young man who had never seen the sea. He loved it. The biggest challenge was coping with watching people eat beef at the beach barbecues. He will be sent a work visa and will decide if he is prepared to go for 2 years. There are currently 2m Nepalis working in Qatar – making up more than 20% of the population.
New democratic Nepal is still non-functional, as no agreement can be made and all parties are now threatening to pull out of non-existent government. The king has left the palace, and Koirala continues to make all decisions.

To the hills

On Friday evening to Koshi campus with Durga where he is doing his MEd teaching practice in Applied Linguistics. I am his audio-visual aid. After a hazardous journey on the back of his motorbike in a high wind, we arrived at the campus – an assortment of tin and bamboo roofed rooms around a courtyard. The students, second year BEd English were delightful; the session was highly interactive, with lots of examples. When I emerged, the third year students had set up chairs under a shady tree ‘for conversation’. They have never had the opportunity to talk with a native speaker before, so we talked until the sun set. I will go again.
I have also been enjoying reading Deepti’s masters thesis on control of snail pests in eastern Nepal. It reminds me of A level projects by diligent girls. We spent a morning together discussing possible improvements, but it’s difficult without knowing the expected standard; she wants me to go and meet her supervisor.
We have developed a new system of rubbish disposal, after several weeks of being woken at an early hour by the boy with the cart who comes daily and rings the bell just in case we have anything to get rid of. Leaving the bags outside is an option we tried, but found that the goats got to the rubbish first and scattered it all over the road. We now hang the bags on the metal spikes on the top of the gate. It resembles the Tower of London after a beheading.
The water situation continues to be dire. Chhatra’a sister has now had the pump removed and taken the motor away. With Karna’s help, we have contacted the plumber who did the original work on the house; he has phoned Chhatra in America and has agreed to do the work. He arrived on Monday at 7am and Tuesday at 8am with workmen, but Chhatra’s sister will not supply the materials. Meanwhile the rain falls steadily and sometimes torrentially as a result of the cyclones in the Bay of Bengal. The weather is pleasantly cool.
May 20 Buddha’s birthday was a public holiday, and the headteachers demanded a day off after an exhausting day of action research with me, enlivened by teaching them the hokey cokey. The primary training continued. A noisy evening with temple music on one side and a rock concert on the waste ground at the end of the road on the other.
At the weekend we managed our long planned visit to Ilam at last; we were invited by two enthusiastic teachers we trained last October, but transport strikes and ‘trouble in the hills’ had made the journey impossible. We met Surya, the head of the ETC, at Tulsi’s son’s wedding and he was very keen for us to visit his training centre. It seemed a good way to combine business and pleasure. On Wednesday, the peace following the election was shattered by storms, strikes, burning tyres and police curfews, but Thursday dawned peacefully and we had seats on a bus heading for Itahari before 7am. East along the Mahendra Highway for 3 hours to Birtamod where we changed onto a microbus heading up to Ilam, another 3 hours away. When it was stuffed to bursting point we began the ear popping climb through spectacular wooded hills, causing the girls in front of us to throw up. The top of the ridge was shrouded in mist with thick bamboo forest, abundant cardamom plants and tea gardens. A rapid descent to cross the mighty Mai River, before the final ascent to Ilam. Ilam has been described as ‘the Darjeeling of Nepal’, but apart from the presence of tea there are few similarities. We checked into the Green View Guest House that overlooks a tea garden, ascending a flight of stone steps to a room with two wooden beds with thin cotton mattresses, warm quilts, some camouflage material over the window and a small bathroom with running water. We decided to attempt to locate the ETC ready for our official visit on Friday. As we walked out of town following directions given to us at the guest house, a young man came hurtling down a precipitous slope shouting “You are Deborah; I have seen your picture; can you help me with my action research?” He had just finished a training day and wanted to share his ideas, so he led us to the ETC across a ditch, followed by an undignified scramble up a muddy cliff, where Surya was delighted to see us. The primary teachers were just finishing their day of PE training with some military looking exercises on a small patch of flat ground, and we contacted our friend Rajendra and arranged to meet later. The primary teachers led us back into town and we wandered north and suddenly bumped into Pankaj, the bright eyed young English teacher from our training who I had tried to contact by e-mail to let him know of our arrival. He was so excited and took us on a tour of the town, where he knows everyone and everyone knows him. He has done extraordinarily well; his family are from a small village 2 hours away, where he attended the village school, achieving high enough marks to study for his BA in English, followed by a MEd in Kathmandu. He now teaches +2 (sixth form), does some training at the ETC, runs a communications shop (photocopy, fax, phone. computer) and is a ‘radio jockey’ on the local FM station. It is a bit more than a one horse town; the main street was busy with trotting ponies carrying milk churns from villages in the surrounding hills to the cooperative dairy. Ilam is the centre of cheese production, as well as tea. The main street is lined with shop houses, many with wooden balconies on which plant pots with a spectacular array of geraniums, hydrangea, foxgloves, and fuschia were balanced precariously. An extraordinary number of shops sell women’s sandals.
Rajendra and Pankaj met us in the evening over our daal bhat to help us plan our visit. On Friday morning we returned to the ETC for the final session of a workshop, and we toured Adarsha, Pankaj’s school and Makendra Campus where Rajendra teaches degree students. Then to the Education Office to meet the new DEO; Hari is a charming man, who studied at the Institute of Education in London and in Denmark and Japan. Prompted by Surya, he organised a trip by DEO jeep to Mai Pokhari, a sacred lake for Hindus and a conservation area on Saturday.
Saturday dawned bright and clear with glorious views over the hills, dotted with tiny villages. Rajendra and Pankaj joined us for breakfast, and by the time the jeep arrived around 11:30 the sky was overcast and the mist was swirling through the trees. We rattled past ponies taking their empty churns home and soon came to the end of the tarmac. The next 8km, only possible in 4WD took a bone shaking hour, the rain pelted down and visibility was reduced to 3m. The driver and Hari assisted the windscreen wipers to help find the way. It was impossible to see the lake when we arrived, so we dashed into a wooden tea shop and sat on benches in semi darkness while the rain pounded on the tin roof and fog crept in through the broken plank walls. Our stay was enlivened by plentiful tea and conversation with a group of very wet female students who had come to the lake to celebrate the end of their exams. After an hour, the mist gradually lifted and the rain stopped, so we ventured out into a dripping green landscape and were eventually rewarded with stunning views over to Darjeeling and a pale glimpse of sun. The lake is beautiful, with splendid water lilies and surrounded by pine forest. There are 9 small bays around the lake, each with religious and ecological significance. While our friends did puja, we searched for warty newts and admired the rhododendrons. A young boy accompanied us so we did not get lost, while his brother stayed to roast maize over a fire and his cheerful granny ground it into corn. On our last evening we were joined in the restaurant for our daal bhat by a young deer, apparently a resident on the third floor, and then by Rajendra and Pankaj with presents of tea and photographs to take home.

Mother's Day

We arrived home on Monday evening to find water pouring from the roof. Predictably none in the taps in our flat. A hose pipe was shooting a healthy jet of clean water across the roof from a feed pipe coming from below. It took some time to work out why this hose going nowhere had suddenly started spouting water. Eventually realisation dawned. The hose used to connect a metal pipe to the outside tap on the roof. The water pipes were the strange pieces of metal we found inside our flat that had been used to force the padlock. Quite why the water supply to the roof seemed to have resumed when there is no water anywhere else is yet to be understood. Tried to call a plumber, but too late in the day. Then the storms that have been pounding Myanmar arrived with torrents of rain and high winds. An eventful evening and night, with the bedroom lit by sheltering fireflies.
It had been a lovely day at the ETC, with some much improved micro-teaching in the morning, and a special presentation for Nepali Mother’s Day in the afternoon. I, of course, am now haamro aama, and was serenaded and festooned with jewellery. The bracelets are so tight I am unable to get them off and swam many lengths of the pool with 16 red and gold bracelets tinkling. I left my bindi stuck to the changing room wall, where I suspect it will stay for several months.
David, having managed to do some team teaching last week, arrived on Monday to find the staff and about 200 children about to set off into the countryside with a huge red and yellow banner to attract more children into school. They roamed the lanes and villages Pied Piper-like, collecting tiny children on the way. Yet more name cards to be made and laminated.
My primary group has been joined by one of Lalmani’s goats – a frisky young kid with a bell round his neck who loves jumping over the chair struts and rubbing against teachers’ legs. He was chased out as he tried to chew through the power cable, thus avoiding roast goat for khaja break. Every day the training gets a little better, with more preparation and more variety. I have a set of alphabet cards and number cards that I use for different simple activities suitable for children that we use every day, similar to the activities that David is trialling in schools with his teachers.
A day out on Friday. Anil (the sophisticated and efficient administrator at the ETC) introduced me to his sister before the election; she and some friends have started a kindergarten in Itahari, and wanted some advice. Although we are not the best people to offer advice on nursery education, we promised to visit. We caught the bus, while Anil, who understandably does not trust Nepali buses, went by motorcycle. His map was easy to follow, and we arrived at the Blooming Kindergarten at 10:30am. We were garlanded and presented with flowers by tiny children in pink checked shirts and chatted to Srijana, Smriti and Manju in the office in a mixture of English and Nepali. They have 50 children aged 2 ½ - 5, and are desperate for more training. We have found training providers and hope they will be able to find some locally. We were really impressed by what they have achieved with bright airy classrooms, beautifully decorated, lots of toys and play space, tiny tables and chairs for more formal work. We were of course given their full repertoire of English and Nepali songs before joining them in a classroom, and best of all, playing on the floor with the little ones. School finishes early on Friday (1pm), so Srijana had arranged transport to local places of interest, a landscaped picnic area in the countryside and a sculpture park – a wild garden where an artist makes and displays Hindu and Buddhist figures. This was followed by lunch at another resort spot and the presentation of gifts. Anil sped back to Birtanagar, while we returned to the centre of Itahari and the Gorkha Department Store – the nearest thing to a proper shop in the eastern Terai. After a bit of retail therapy, we found pineapples, not seen in Birtanagar since September, in the market and caught a speedy but more hazardous microbus, complete with Barbie doll stickers, back to Biratnagar. To our delight, there was water in the flat, so we had a proper shower.
Karna, the charming Dalit boy who used to work for Chhatra and sleep here, has returned; he appeared one evening last week, hoping to find Chhatra and Tara back from America. He has finished his exams (School Leaving Certificate) and is currently working as labourer to save enough money for the next phase of his education (equivalent to sixth form) which starts next month. After a series of daily e-mails back and forth to America, Karna has moved into a small room of the upstairs flat tonight, ‘for security’, and to clean the flat and tidy the garden before Chhatra comes home. Its good to have him back.
Taking advantage of the new transport strike free Nepal, on Sunday we went with Joseph to meet Etienne in Dharan, for our VSO regional meeting. This is our last meeting, as Joseph returns to Uganda in June and Etienne finishes in September. We decided to head up to Bhedetar, at 1500m, where it is cooler and there are spectacular mountain views on a clear day. It was not a clear day, so we continued north to Dhankuta. We ordered lunch at the best hotel in town and walked along the ridge during the one hour wait. Joseph’s roast chicken arrived looking like something rubber from a joke shop, while the rest of us stuck to vegetables. Later we walked through the small town, with some traditional old houses with intricately carved windows, surrounded by excited school children – black and white bideshi were a real novelty.
We arrived back in Dharan after hurtling the 50km downhill, freewheeling most of the way to save fuel, just in time to catch the last bus back to Biratnagar. We were lashed by ferocious winds and joined by market traders at the end of the day. At Itahari, at least 100 women and children boarded the already full bus, with the remains of their day’s produce. Unfortunately most of it was fish, and although the crates were heaved onto the roof, the smell lingered on. David described it as being inside a mobile lunatic asylum. We arrived back in Biratnagar as the first huge drops of rain fell and sheets of lightening flashed across the sky. We sheltered under a shop awning until the shopkeeper decided to pull down the shutters for the night, so set off for home, wading over our ankles in water. My hands were so wet I could not slide the bolt to the gate, then realised that it was padlocked on the inside. How carefully Karna is looking after us! I was about to ring the bell when there was a huge thunderclap and the power went, thus preventing the bell from working. David was about to attempt to heave me over the wall when the power returned and we were able to rouse a very embarrassed Karna.
Work has suddenly become incredibly busy. The schools are still in start stop mode, but David’s grade 1 class that started with 20 students, now has 95. I am much in demand by all the trainers to ‘help’ with their sessions, which usually means planning the activities for the day. Sometimes I am given clues about what might be useful so I can do proper preparation. There are currently 2 primary groups, life skills training and one month headteacher training. Secondary English, Nepali and Social studies starts on June 4.
And on the waterfront, the day after the water supply to the house resumed, Chhatra’s sister arrived with a team of men and a tube well was installed in the back yard. Two days later, her husband came with another group of men and removed all the pipes ….

Nepali wedding

Tulsi was absent most of last week preparing for his son’s wedding. He appeared on Friday, his hair and moustache dyed black to an extraordinary intensity, with piles of wedding invitations for Sunday and Monday. The event started with a band and wedding procession from the bride’s house somewhere in Sunsari, followed by days of partying at the bride’s home and later at his house.
On Monday, we learnt that the wedding had taken place as planned on Sunday, and we were all expected at Tulsi’s house as soon as the training was over for the day. A topical day on the development of community schools, as upstairs a delegation from the Ministry in Kathmandu were running a workshop on the development of community managed schools, which is likely to be a priority for the new government. Meanwhile, Gita and the rest of Lalmani’s extended family were hovering on the field dressed in their best, waiting for a rickshaw to take them to the wedding party. At 4pm the rest of us prepared to leave. We resisted attempts to get us on the back of motorbikes so we could make our own way home, so set off in a cycle procession with elderly Govinda and the peons. Half way there, David got a puncture, so we abandoned him at a cycle stall while I cycled with the others to locate Tulsi’s house, then rode back to collect David. 10 minutes and 10 rupees is enough to repair a tyre. Tulsi lives in a newly built – or partially built – bungalow north of the city. The lane outside was full of motorbikes and cycles, with many people milling about, a splendidly decorated awning over the front porch and a makeshift tent on the patch of waste ground next door. The women were splendid in red saris, dripping with gold jewellery, while most of the men were in food stained shirts, shorts and flipflops. The bride and groom were sitting on overstuffed chairs in the porch looking tired and fed up. We greeted them, and then jumped the ditch into the field where buckets of food were waiting inside the tent. The field is grazed by cows, and one had to be careful where one sat. Rice, daal, various vegetable dishes, a steaming pile of buffalo and greasy cardboard boxes full of pakora and puris were frequently replenished from cauldrons over 2 gas burners by grubby boys in frayed shorts and T shirts. Delicious; washed down with metal beakers full of water. Bones were spat onto the grass with other food debris, to the delight of the neighbourhood dogs that sneaked in to snatch morsels of food before being pelted with stones. As we were attempting to leave, a group of children attached themselves to us “auntie, uncle you must come and dance”. There was no escape and we were forced to provide the evening’s main entertainment.
Trying to perfect our water collection and usage is a challenge; it’s fine when we are at home and can wash clothes and hair at the outside tap when the supply comes on at midday. During the working week it is more difficult; we sometimes have a trickle in the morning to start to fill the buckets, and if we are lucky we can complete the task when we get home, avoiding the mosquitoes that swarm round the tap at the end of the day. The swimming pool, although increasingly green and murky, is a welcome relief. A violent storm on Thursday evening filled the flat with dust and bits of tree. David’s cleaning routine is severely compromised.
At last Bal Rani has started teaching lessons, so David is busy making name cards for all the new children. I have been training primary teachers with Bishnu, a retired secondary head, very open to new ideas and doing things differently, so we and the teachers have had a lot of fun and they have done some much improved micro-teaching.

Police procedure

Season of ants, cockroaches and orange and turquoise butterflies the size of dinner plates. Mobile crumbs scurrying across kitchen surfaces. Baby buffalo and ducklings. Handcarts of sliced water melon and cucumbers; children sucking luridly coloured frozen water on sticks.
We spent most of our first day home reporting our burglary to the police. Our friend Narayan came in the morning and we went together to the local police station, where two women in uniform were sitting cross legged on a bench spinning cotton. They were not very interested. A young man in a red T shirt emerged from a room where a manual typewriter clattered. He took a brief statement, then directed us to the district police office. We cycled north passed the birthday celebrations at the Hanuman temple and several wedding processions and after questioning were allowed into the yard at police HQ. There were several civilians in the yard taking statements from Nepalis; we were escorted across the road into a local tea shop, where we sat on rickety wooden benches painted sky blue beneath pictures of Shiva and Parvati and the royal family (not for much longer) accompanied by the smell of boiling milk. We were questioned (thank goodness for Narayan) and could manage part of the dialogue eg “tapaaiko security guard kahaa chha?” We are of course the only videshi with out a guarded house. Statement signed in triplicate by David. We then had to purchase a 5 rupee postage stamp to be fixed to the statement, and after paying 50 rupees baksheesh were taken back to the station. We walked along grubby corridors, past open boxes of rifles and dusty dogs sleeping in the shade to the inspector’s office, where he sat and read the newspaper. We waited on a saggy sofa while many people came in to have a look at us. The report was eventually ‘filed’ and a boy who looked about 12 appeared with a camera. I think he was a ‘detective’. Narayan brought him back to our house on his crossbar, where he took many photographs, checked all the locks and sat at our desk and wrote another report, again signed by David in triplicate. We await the next instalment. In the meantime, Chhatra’s (the landlord) sister has appeared to take care of repairs. She’s a retired primary head, and on her second visit brought her English speaking (privately educated of course) daughter.
Just time to plant some lettuces and get to the swimming pool to cool down. Surly but lovable Suresh has gone to Dubai to work, presumably not as a swimming pool attendant, and has been replaced by smiling Shyam. We finished our shopping at our Indian family grocery on the way home; new stocks of special treats for us, many of which we had brought with us as usual from Kathmandu, so had to buy duplicates. We were taken into the backyard to see their own Hanuman temple, decorated for his birthday with flowers, flashing lights and music.
Back to work on Monday. The new school year has started at Adarsha; Ramanath the head was organising assembly; tiny (grade 6) new children in oversized trousers bullied into lines. Big meeting at the ETC for DEO, NGOs, INGOs, teachers’ unions and political parties, to discuss recruitment for the new school year (already started, except in the schools where David is trying to work). Arjun, the DEO, made a rousing speech about the importance of quality education to keep children in school. ,A man with a big stick now guards the gate of Adarsha, presumably in the interests of retention.
My colleagues were full of election stories; most are happy that the polls were peaceful and that there has been a decisive result, even though the PR seats are not yet announced. The Maoists have won 120 of the 240 first past the post seats. Anil and Govind were polling officers in Rangeli and had to wait from 6pm when polls closed until their transport arrived at 4am the following morning, besieged by YCL and madhesi cadres trying to tamper with the ballot boxes. Durga walked 1 ½ hours to his polling station to find no accommodation or food, and had to spend 2 nights on the floor and beg food from local families.
Primary training started on Tuesday for 2.5 months, which will take me through to the summer. Attempts to forward plan have failed. We started 2 hours late as we had to wait for the DEO to lead the speeches. I declined to make one. Durga started the training well but had to go on ‘other business’ on Wednesday, so Umapati was drafted in at the last minute. We started the day with both groups together to sing the national anthem. This was repeated many times, accompanied, unaccompanied, music fade in (just like ‘I’m sorry I haven’t a clue’), half class, other half, all together …. led by Govinda, looking like a craggy skewbald pony after using both henna and black dye unsuccessfully on his white hair. I have managed to learn everyone’s names as a ‘model of good practice’.
Load shedding now for 4 hours every morning and 3 hours each evening, plus sporadic power cuts each day; we miss the cooling effect of the fans most. Candles make it even hotter. The whole city has a water problem now, but not as desperate as Kathmandu. We were spoiled by accumulation of water during our absence that kept us going for the first few days. Now we have water outside for 3 hours a day. We are trying to work out when the 3 hours are so one of us can come home to fill buckets. It should get better when the monsoon starts, but that’s still 2 – 3 months away.