The Hills of Gorkha - Beyond Electricity

---

i had cut the trekking short to go to Kapils house for the Doshain festival (the most important Hindu festival of the year) and after stopping briefly in Pokarha to get some money we were on the hunt for a bus to Aabukhairaini, where we would spend the night, as it was now too late to make it to Gorkha. after haggling with various conductors we ended up getting a good price and climbed to the roof of the packed bus. it's no fun sitting inside the bus when it is overcrowded here. to my delight we found 2 Sadhu Ba Ba (the holy dudes with the dreadlocks, that have chosen to live a life of asceticism.......and smoke copius amounts of ganja to aid their quest for enlightenment) which was according to Kapil, a sign that we would be safe on the roof despite the fact that it was a pretty risky business at night. they didnt speak a word of english and one of them was sleeping under his blanket, but the other one seemed happy to have some company. we took some photos and i decided to donate 50 rupees to them as they rely on the generosity of others to get by. i was surprised when a few moments later, he handed me a little bag of weed to say thankyou. it wasnt long before he was making a joint and we were smoking together on the bus roof under the stars .........only in Asia!

We had checked into a local hotel and ate dhal bhaat (of course), got our heads down and were now off to catch another bus to Gorkha Bazzar. we stopped in the town to buy some sweets for the kids in the village and a big pot of horlicks as a present for Kapils mum (apparently she loves the stuff). we got back to the bus station late and ended up loosing our seat inside and once again had to ride on the roof. this was a little different to previous journeys, as it was off road on a bus with special susspension. there were more people inside than u could think possible, and the roof was also so full that people were hanging over the edge. as the bus bounced along the muddy path that had been chopped into the hills, i struggled to hold onto something and often resorted to clutching onto other passengers to stop from being flung of the edge and tumbling down the hillside to my death. the bus got stuck in the mud 3 times and we had to all jump off the roof while they removed the wet mud from under the tyres, then fight for a less dangerous seat when we all remounted. if this wasnt bad enough we were not only faced with the challenge of dodging tree branches that would give a serious slap to the face, but live electrical cables that if touched, caused imminent death. we arrived in one piece after 4 hours of what was actually a pretty fun journey (despite the constant threat of death) and walked another 45 mins to get to Kapils village.

there was no electricity in the village (it would be another year or 2 before reaching that deep into the hills), the only toilet (a tiny shack with a concrete floor with a hole in it) was shared by a fair few houses and wasnt kept particularly clean. there was no bath or shower at any of the houses, just a small communal area that had a couple of pipes plumbed from the mountains carrying spring water. this was where everyone washed both themselves and their clothes. we ate the goat curry that Kapils mum (Amah- Nepali for mum, Kapils mum was now also my mum and she would be referred to simply as Amah) had prepared for us, it was slightly off due to the complete lack of refrigeration but the curry disguised the taste. we then both recieved Tikka, a Hindu ritual where red coloured rice (sometimes white depending on caste) is applied to the forehead and a blessing is given. after the journey we were in need of a shower but Kapil had advised that it was best to wait until dark to go to the communal pipes unless we wanted a large audience as i was only the second foreigner that had ever visited Okhle, so we showered in the dark.

the majority of the next morning was spent playing Jande Mukut, a gambling game that all the children, (and adults) play at this time of year. it involves shaking six dice in a pot with six different sybols on each that were also drawn on a mat made of an old pair of jeans. we then placed our bets by putting rupees onto the symbol that we thought most likely to appear on more than one dice, 2 of the same symbol meant double, 3 triple and so on, only one dice meant you lose. i eneded up loosing a couple hundred rupees (1.50GBP) and went to chill out in the porch area of Kapils house. the walls were made of stone and mud (or buffalo shit) and there were constantly chickens or baby goats running around everywhere. the view was beautiful, fields of rice and millet covered the hills and beyond them were the peaks of Manasulu and Ganesh Himal pointing to the sky. as soon as i had sat down there would always be children running over and asking "what is your name?" (even if they knew it already), usually followed by "what is your mothers name?", or sometimes they would just stand and stare at me and smile. it wasnt only children after a while, once word spread there were plenty of villagers coming over, usually to look and smile at me, to which i would always reciprocate and say "Namaste" (nepali greeting that translates directly as 'i salute the divinity within you'). we ate more mutton, there was a whole goat to get through after all, which was going off more and more by the minute. i wondered if i would get sick considering that it was now about 5 days old but luckily i was fine. the massala tea that Amah would make after dinner was lovely and fresh, as she had a buffalo that she would milk every morning and evening for a litre each time. in the afternoon we went down to the pipes to wash our clothes where everyone looked on at how unexperienced i was at hand washing and smiled sympathetically, we then hung our clothes over a bush near the house to dry. in order to get reception on his mobile (no elecrtic but still there is mobile reception) we had to climb over 1000 steps to the top of a hill and i gave my mum a call to let her know i was still alive, before watching the sunset and having to navigate back down the steps (random wobbly stones) and walk through a rice field in the pitch black.
in the evening we took one of the bottles of apple brandy that we had bought in Marpha to a shop run by a guy called Durba who closed his doors while me, him, Kapil and some of the local lads polished of the brandy followed by a massive container of Raksi (local rice whisky). we also sampled some of the ganja that he had been growing in his garden and stumbled back to Kapils in the darkness.

the next day i had decided to make it my mission to purchase a live local chicken and kill it myself. i had given what i eat some thought while travelling as it is more in your face as opposed to being neatly wrapped in polystyrene trays in Tesco, and decided that i should be willing to personally kill anything that i choose to eat. so after another couple hours of Jande Mukut, this time i was the dice shaker and won 700 rupees that i shared with Kapils cousin, who was my bank manager for the game, we went in search. we found the 'chicken man' and walked 20 odd mins to where his chicken was but it wasnt very big and he wanted 400 rupees for it. i had my eye on another chicken that i had seen running around but when the owners got home they also wanted too much money for it. instead we went and paid Durba a visit who also had chickens and got one for 350. we took it back to Kapils and tied its legs and i recieved instructions on how to ring its neck, what i didnt realise was that the head flies off in the process. so after a twist and a pull, the chickens head lay on the floor looking back at me while the body spent the next minute or so spasming and bleeding in my left hand. nevertheless it didnt bother me in the slightest and we proceeded to skin and gut it, keeping the kidneys and liver, hack it up and chuck it all in the pot.... including the head. Amah cooked it into a curry which was a welcome change from the off goat, but i did spend half the time removing bones from my mouth, including small shards from where it had been hacked with a sickle (if repeated i would definately butcher it diferently but this is how it is done here).
the evening was again spent at Durbas doing much of the same and i ended up giving 2 of the younger guys tikka, im not sure if this is really the done thing considering we were drunk and stoned but they insisted so i blessed them and stuck the coloured rice to their heads, much to everyones amusement.

after breakfast i chilled on the porch for a bit while Kapil went to gamble some more (it seemed to be a compulsory activity at Doshain) and when we went to his friends house to gamble some more i had a nap to recover from the previous night. my ipod was the focus of much attention in the afternoon (until the battery died from lack of electric) as i dont think anyone had seen anything like it before and people crowded round to watch a bit of Lock Stock and Two Smokin Barrels LOL. i decided to go and take a shower and a few of the kids showed me the way to the pipes. it was pretty busy and i waited my turn for a pipe and began washing myself, i turned around to see that everyone had stopped what they were doing and were just sat staring at me. all i could do was smile and carry on and when i put my hand down my shorts to wash the essentials everyone started giggling, including me. it was a very strange experience to have in excess of 30 people watching me shower, but highly amusing.
later an english student from the village invited me to his home to have tea with his familly as a means of both practising (and showing off) his English. i sat and answered the usuall name, age, profession, marriage questions and sang a Nepali song (at everyones request) about the festival that i had managed to learn. soon it was time to eat dhal bhaat and i made my way back to Kapils. after dinner his uncle and a load of the kids came over and we ended up singing the Doshain song and dancing while Kapils granddad (who was constantly smiling from ear to ear) watched and smiled even more. it wasnt long before we went to bed as we had an early start to get back to Kathmandu and i awoke to a crystal clear view of the two mountains beyond the hills at sunrise. we once again rode the roof, but this time it was less packed so i was free to look out at the blanket of mist sitting in the valleys that covered the endless fields of rice and millet....... beautiful!

spending some time living in a real village, not just one that tourists are taken to for a price, was something that i had always hoped to do on this trip and i am extremely grateful to Kapil for inviting me. the hospitality of the locals here is something long abandoned by western culture, possibly due to the fear that every stranger is a potential enemy, and i find this deeply sadening. there is something about village life that seems to become lost with the advent of development such as TV, and people begin to stay in and fear their neigbour rather than taking the time to get to know them. just because we may have never met someone before or may never meet them again i.e on buses and trains, it feels tragic that people would rather sit and silently judge as oppose to communicating. surely this is the best way to know your surroundings instead of reading pieces of paper or watching glass screens that misrepresent the perceptions of many with the offensive actions of very few? the result is alienation, that leads to the type of environment conducive to the creation of social outcasts that commit these offences in the first place. there is much that can be learnt from the humble lives of the people of Gorkha and villages the world over, but also vice versa, the key is in intergrating the positives and rejecting the negatives. modern life has lots of good points that need to be realised and appreciated i.e the concept of liberal democracies, but in the same way that a tree becoming severed from its roots will quickly fall to the ground, we too must keep ourselves firmly grounded with the humble customs that mankind once built its foundations upon.
i realise that this is a simple observation that could be expanded upon massively, but i felt it worth mentioning nonetheless.

Much Love to All

---

Photos

Amah's goats
these buggers would be up at 5am every morning makin a racket right outside the window

Comments

[Steve B]

...chiken tonight-!
...hi Dave -chicken tonight will never be quite the same again will it Dave - can't wait 'til you get home and take over the cookin ;-)