To continue with my project of posting old emails home to this site...
From January 24, 2001:
I seem to start all of my emails with a visual image, so I will give you one here. The sun is rising over Ishwarpur here in Sarlahi District of the Terai. It is a bright red sphere that I can see through the fog. It is a cold morning. People and animals are all seeking warmth. Although I have been living in this environment since I returned from the U.S. over three weeks ago, it is still hard for me to believe that an area that can get so hot (with temperatures above 120 F degrees) in the summer can also be cold. It is all relative, though. I'm sure the day-time temperatures will reach the 60s.
Soon my residence, which also serves as our office during the day, will be bustling with activity. The 12 fieldworkers will collect their palm pilots and will head to the field where they will observe for 3 hours babies between the ages of 4- and 16-months. The remaining fieldworkers will conduct interviews with mothers whose babies were observed last week. The 4 members of the clinic staff will await the arrival of mothers and babies from their homes. Today we are scheduled to collect blood and perform anthropometric measurements on these kids (length, weight, head circumference, skinfold thickness, and mid-upper arm circumference). Another worker will ride around the VDC (village development area) and will schedule kids to come in for developmental testing tomorrow. Because it is Thursday, 23 women will assemble at our VDC office to report which of the children of families living in Ishwarpur achieved a motor milestone in the past week (i.e. learned how to sit with or without support, creep or crawl, walk with or without support, run, jump, or stand on one foot). My study DIMAG (means mind in Nepali and stands for the Development of Motor skills, Articulations, and Growth) has finally started.
I keep thinking that I should feel ecstatic. Afterall, everything that I have been working towards since I moved to Nepal last March is finally coming together. The truth is that I have felt rather ungrounded returning from the United States. I had such a good time hanging out with friends and family that it felt rather unnatural to leave. It says a lot that I was secretly wishing that I would miss my plane the Thursday that I was scheduled to return. I've never missed a plane in my life. Wouldn't you know, because of the increased security in the wake of the tried-to-be-shoe bomber, delays caused by people trying to pass pocket knives and nail clippers through the security sensor, and the fact that the scientific instrument I was carrying with me was configured for a 220 V socket and I was not able to plug it into the standard U.S. 110 V outlet as the security guards insisted, my wish came true. I couldn't get another flight for a few days (or series of flights. It was actually the Bangkok leg of the trip that was fully booked.), so I decided to take advantage of the extra time to return to Baltimore for the weekend. I bought a one-way ticket, said goodbye to Mom, and returned to spend some more time with Kai. To delay my trip anymore would have meant delaying the inevitable. I left from Baltimore on Sunday morning December 30th feeling happy, at peace, and loved. It was a wonderful trip home. I can't believe that there was a time that I actually thought I need to stay in Nepal until my study was finished. Feeling your love and support is one of the best feelings in the world. Knowing that I have each of you in my life and will be able to return to my multiple homes in the United States before too much more time passes is a thought that will help me get through the next year of living in Nepal. THANK YOU.
Nepal has been in the world news a lot lately. The weekend after I returned the SAARC Conference for South Asian countries was hosted in Kathmandu. The Nepalis reacted by cleaning the city, building public parks (which weren't completed until a week after the conference closed), and covering all the billboards with white signs that issued a "Hearty Welcome to the Heads of State." Security was tight during this time. Military officials armed with machine guns and police with riffles were stationed all over the city and valley. Those of us in the capital city had to endure huge traffic jams and being trapped wherever we were when the official motorcades drove through the city. There was a lot of hope that the conference would give India and Pakistan an opportunity to work through some of their issues. Unfortunately, tensions between the two countries are still high. Colin Powell visited Kathmandu last Friday. He met the top Nepali officials and visited the Royal Palace, the scene of the June massacre.
Nepal is still experiencing a State of Emergency. Although everything feels a little calmer than it did before I left for the U.S. in December, we still have to endure police checks and other hassles. The Nepalis still don't have any rights. Last week the government came through my area of Sarlahi District and demanded that buildings that were built within 25 meters of the road be torn down. If they weren't taken apart within a week of the orders, the owners were supposed to pay RS 8,000 (about $100, which is 6 mo. salary for most people here). The East-West Highway now looks like a construction zone with rubble heaps filled with bricks, stone, and wood alongside it. Many buildings have exposed rooms and beams that were left when the front part was removed. Although the Nepalis weren't supposed to build in this area in the first place, it makes me sad that the Nepalis have no power to protest the orders.
The Nepali Maoists have fewer rights. One of the guys working for me, one of our observers, turned himself in to the police shortly before I returned. It is a good thing because the government has issued search and destroy orders, meaning they will attack and kill anyone they suspect of being a Maoist. My worker is relatively safe as long as he checks in with the local police on a daily basis. Apparently, the government focused on this area of the Terai after finding a huge arms cache between Hariaun (my Sunday night residence) and Ishwarpur (where I live and work during the week).
I remain safe and protected by my NNIPS colleagues. My biggest challenge is to maintain a positive attitude. Running and returning to Kathmandu (despite the 6.5+ hour drive each way) each weekend helps. This has turned into a longer message than I intended. Take good care. All the best for this New Year!
From an email to a friend living in Baltimore, MD; February 12, 2002:
So, you want to know about a day in the life? To share this with you, I will have to tell you about a day in each of the lives I lead here.
Monday morning: Wake up early in our residence on the grounds of the sugar mill (usually to horrible Hindu religious music) anywhere from 5:30-6:30 a.m. (the religious music starts from 4 a.m.) I've been sleeping a little later these winter months. If the phone line is working, the first thing i do is check my email. If not or after checking my email (don't get a lot on Sundays), I usually read whatever book I'm presently reading or write personal thoughts in the form of an email or something else. I don't usually do a lot of work on Monday mornings nor have I been running; although I like the fact that my route near the sugar mill is on the paved East-West Highway. Krishna our chiya (tea) guy comes anywhere from 6:30 a.m. to bring me and the field supervisors who live downstairs in Hariaun a glass of tea. I've grown accustomed to having chiya first thing in the morning. It's always brought to me. Talk about laziness! :) The project vehicle picks me up at 8 a.m. We drive near the sugar mill residence and honk for Kanchi (whose husband works as a peon for the mill. that's his official title. means bringer and offerer of tea and handy man.) Kanchi is my didi (older sister). She comes to Ishwarpur with me to cook and clean and otherwise offer wonderful personal interaction. The vehicle drops me at an eating stall across from the office, where I ate all my meals for the first four months I was living in Hariaun and where I now eat breakfast on Mondays. Before meeting the vehicle and all my DIMAG workers at 8:30, I shovel down as much rice, dal, and curried vegetables that I can. I'm usually hungry because I don't eat a lot on the weekends and we often return to Hariaun too late on Sunday evenings to eat a big dinner. At 8:30 a.m. the vehicle leaves for Ishwarpur. There are usually about 10 to 12 of us crammed into it. The ride is about 40 minutes (driving fast). Everyone talks a mile a minute. I usually stare ahead at the road and think about the intricacies of work. (I'm often very quiet here in Nepal.)
Monday mid-morning - Friday afternoon: In Ishwarpur we work a full day from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Sometimes people finish and leave earlier, especially during these winter months when it gets dark around 6:15 p.m. For the past 6 weeks, I have remained in the office to do my work. After everyone goes, I tie up the loose ends with work and try to get out and run. Just in the past few months, I have started running in the afternoons. The Nepalis don't like this because they believe morning is a better time to go. You'll read about my mornings. I prefer evenings when my brain is full and I often need to refuel. I run the same route and listen to the same mixed tape every time that I go. Usually, I only have time (and space) to run between 4 and 5 miles. Along the way, I pass up to 100 kids who sometimes run behind, with, and in front of me in small groups. They squeal and seem delighted by my presence. Depending on my emotional state, my feelings range from being excited to see them to wishing that I were alone and could run without experiencing reactivity. Just getting out to run is a feat for me, so I am happy when I go.
I return to a somewhat worried Kanchi because it is dusk and not safe in her eyes (or anyone else's in this weird political time) for me to be out. I feel safe and know that everyone knows where I am and won't be harmed as long as I stay on the main dirt, rocky road. If the phone line is working, I usually try to get on line to send work-related and personal emails. If someone is on instant messenger, I love chatting. Kanchi often comes in to watch me. When the phone line isn't working, I work or read my pleasure reading book of the week. Some weeks I read a lot. Others I read very little. It all depends on what is going on with work, my energy level, and my emotional state.
Kanchi finishes cooking dinner around 6:45 to 7:15 p.m. Because I find rice too filling at night, Kanchi makes me roti, which is a lot lot the Kenyan chapatti. I eat this with takari (same type of dish served in the morning. Just means curried vegetables). Kanchi and I usually talk for a while before I go back to doing more of whatever project or relaxation activity I started earlier in the evening. We say goodnight around 8:30. Kanchi meditates for a few hours, while I do what I am doing. Usually I go to bed between 9:45 and 11:45.
In Ishwarpur I wake up between 5:30 and 6:30. Again, if the phone line is working, I check my email before doing anything else. Morning is my favorite time of day. It is also when I have the most energy and am most productive. Although I sometimes get out and run in the mornings, I prefer to write about life here or work. The few hours that I have before my workers arrive are the most precious hours in the day for me. I love watching the sun rise, the animals being led out of their stable, and the morning beginning as it does with such a bang here in the field. The rice and takari that I eat twice a day usually messes up my stomach, so I often have to run to the bathroom (another reason I don't like to run in the mornings). I wait until the last minute to take my bucket bath, shortly before 9 a.m. when everyone begins work. These days, since it isn't scorching hot like the summer months, I have to spend some time boiling water, so I can bath in luxury. I emerge from my room with wet hair, wearing my shalwar kamez around 9 a.m. ready to greet everyone. When I am really organized, I eat before 9. This is hard though. Usually I eat between 8:45 and 9:15 a.m. Breakfast consists of rice, curried vegetables, and dal. I only eat twice a day, like everyone else here, so I am usually hungry after work. Sometimes Kanchi makes me a snack after work. Her soybean snack is my favorite.
Friday afternoon - evening: Fridays are a little different. I leave Ishwarpur in our project vehicle around 12:30 or 1 p.m. The driver stops at the sugar mill to drop off Kanchi before we proceed to the Hariaun office. There I meet Shakaya, our field supervisor, and anyone else planning to travel back to KTM with us. Shakaya and I are the two regulars who make the trip weekly. Others come and go. This week our field manager guy from KTM, Shakaya's boss named Sharada Ram, will be traveling with us. When he is in the car, I sit in the back. Otherwise, the guys always give me the front seat. Bringing back my Crazy Creek camping chair has made all the difference. The other guys are happy to let me sit up front, so they can use it. When I have to sit in back, I find that it keeps my back happy. Anyway, the vehicle leaves Hariaun between 2 and 2:30 p.m. on Friday afternoons. Usually it is laden with data and takari (raw vegetables that are cheaper to buy in the Terai than KTM) for some of the KTM staff. These days we have been stopping in Hetauda, which is 1.5 hours from Hariaun. There we have a snack. I usually eat an omelet that is put on top of beaten rice and sometimes accompanied by soybeans. Shakaya and the driver eat buffalo momos (dumplings). We get back into the car and drive straight to KTM. If it is late we sometimes stop for bhat (rice and dal and curried vegetables. dal bhat is the local dish as you know and I keep describing.). Usually we try not to stop. There are usually enough delays anyway. I never know when we'll get back, but am happy if it is before 9:30 or 10 p.m. We take turns with respect to who is dropped off first. I usually climb up the five flights of stairs to my apt. and get on email. It is cheap for me in KTM and the connection is better than the one in the field. Lately, I've had a lot of trouble getting a line here in the field, so I love my time on Friday evenings. Having said this, sometimes I have trouble getting on line from KTM. I usually unpack and go to sleep between 10 and 11:30.
Saturdays and Sundays: On Saturday morning I wake up and (yes, you guessed it) check my email. I use this time to catch up on messages or pay my bills, balance, my checkbook, (look into paying my taxes, etc) on the web. I make a cup of coffee and savor every sip because it is usually only in KTM that I drink coffee. Sometimes I eat a snack. Usually, I keep myself busy (in the summer I wake up and go swimming.) Mid-morning I head to Mike's Breakfast, which is across town and serves an American breakfast. It isn't a Saturday unless I can go to Mike's. When Gwendolyn or Darrell are in town we travel together by taxi. Otherwise, I bike. I usually hang out at Mike's for an hour or two and return to my apt. Although I always have errands to run, most stores are closed on Saturday mornings, so it is always a challenge figuring out what is open. I need to be back in my apt. around 2 p.m. to prepare for the Hash. Lately, I have been getting a ride, which beats biking. They are always quite far and often demanding, so biking isn't a lot of fun. The Hash begins at 3 p.m. (will change to 3:30 soon and then 4 p.m. when the weather gets warmer and the days are longer). I usually don't return to my apt. until 6:30 or 7 p.m. Each week I look forward to the Hash and love both the social interaction that it provides and opportunity to see areas of the KTM Valley that I otherwise would not have an opportunity to see. Afterwards, I sometimes meet a friend for dinner at a local restaurant. When Gwendolyn is in town from the US, we always manage to have a fun girls night on the town.
Sunday morning I wake up early, around 6:30 (same as every other day of the week, including Saturdays). I tie up work on email (bills, check book, etc.) and prepare for leaving. Sometimes I run. I always wash my dirty Hash and street clothes, unless I did it the night before. It is always a race against the clock. I leave around 11 a.m. for the office. There I make sure I have all the forms and other office stuff that I requested to be sent down. The driver and I leave around 11:30 to pick up Shakaya and head back down to the Terai. Because I don't eat a big breakfast on Sunday mornings (bread or cereal) and often don't eat dinner on Sunday evenings, I have made a point to stop to eat dal bhat at a really good bhat place about an hour from KTM. The last few weeks, the vehicle has stopped and the driver and I eat together before proceeding. Picture me eating bhat with my hands with lots of other Nepali men. I'm the only foreigner (but am usually the only foreigner). We usually arrive in Hariaun between 6 and 7:30 p.m. Because I am usually tired and find the Hariaun residence somewhat barren and lonely, I often go to sleep very early, between 8:30 and 9:30 p.m.
This is my week. The only thing I haven't mentioned is music, which is very important to me. I brought a lot of CDs with me, which make me feel calm and comforted. If you have made it to the end of this, you now have a pretty good idea of how things flow for me. There are always deviations; however, my life is fairly structured here, much more than it is in the U.S. Any more questions? :)
The following email was written to family and friends after I had had amoebic dyssentary for the previous 6 months and giardia before that. I was incredibly malnourished and thin. The political situation in Nepal had worsened and I was ready to evacuate from any of my three residences. Many of the expatriots living in Kathmandu had packed their bags and left. Expats living in India had recently been evacuated because of the nuclear threat that escalated with the heightened tensions between India and Pakistan. At the time that I wrote this letter, I felt scared, uncertain, ill, and depressed.
June 10, 2002:
Hi!
A few weeks ago, I started a group email to all of you. The first paragraph described in intricate detail baby chicks crossing the dirt road that runs by our office and my weekday residence in Ishwarpur. They follow their mother hen everywhere in order to stay out of harm's way. Although I quite like the paragraph and believe it accurately describes life as it occurs outside "The Pink Palace," it wasn't really what I wanted to be writing to all of you. What I want to talk with you about in this group email is the idea of home and the energy that it has taken for me to adapt to my home in Nepal over the past 6 months.
I keep thinking that I am leading a cushy life here in Nepal (everything is relative). After all, I have electricity on most days, running water almost whenever I want it, a phone line when it works and access to my loved ones via email and Instant Messenger. I have privacy and use it to spend time seeking refuge in books, writing my thoughts and feelings via email, and wearing shorts and a tank top on hot days. I keep thinking how fortunate I am compared to the older anthropologists (i.e.. Margaret Mead) who had few of these luxuries.
I don't think anyone who has seen my setup would describe my life as luxurious. I have had to deal with rats, snakes, and roaches in my room. For those of you who know me well, dealing with roaches is something that causes me particular anxiety. Now that it is the hot season, I return to and from KTM weekly with prickly heat rashes, mosquito bites, and headaches. In the past 6 months, I have had giardia once and amoebic dysentery twice. For some reason (hopefully, only related to not treating my water in KTM properly -- a problem I have since rectified), I can't seem to shake this latest bout of dysentery. Despite all of these things, I believe my biggest challenge has been dealing with the isolation that I feel from both the Nepalis and expatriates due to the nature of my work and fact that I spend most of my time in rural Nepal.
Recently, I have really struggled with my reasons for moving to Nepal. The country has been experiencing a civil insurgency since I moved here last year. Now, one of the hottest news items is India and Pakistan's inability to settle the Kashmir "issue". In the past week, 60,000 expatriates from countries around the globe have been returning home, in what some people think was more of a political statement than fear of pending war; however, newspapers from the US contradict this idea. I have received all kinds of emails from many of you expressing concern that I am still in Nepal. Why? You ask. Wouldn't it be better if I came home to wait until the political situation becomes calmer? In addition to those emails, I have also received requests for another group email. Why aren't you writing?-- is the implication.
Why haven't I written? Initially (winter & spring), I didn't know how to write about the daily reports of human right's atrocities that I was hearing. Because many of the hard cold facts of the violence occurring here in Nepal on the part of both the government and the Maoist "terrorists" did not find their way into the international press, I worried that writing about it might make you fear for my safety. Because what was happening around me remained at the forefront of my mind for many months, I didn't feel capable of writing about anything else. Now that news of the tension in India and Pakistan has reached just about everyone I know, I find myself thinking predominately about work. I guess after spending so many months fearing further delays to my study and having to pack up everything to go home without even getting DIMAG (name of my sub-study means "mind" in Nepali) off the ground, I no longer fear not being able to finish my work. I have collected much (not all) the data that I will need for my dissertation.
So, why don't I go home? After all, Jim (my advisor and boss) has told me that I have trained our staff well enough that they can carry out without me. I think what is happening within my mind is that I am just now feeling that I am getting to a place that I can begin going after much of what I moved to Nepal to do. Although I have spent the past 7 years working towards collecting data in a developing country, I believe my presence in this country is less about collecting my data than it is about my growth as a female scientist. Many of the books I have selected to read in the past month, written by female anthropologists including Mary Catherine Bateson, Margaret Mead's daughter, have helped to reinforce this feeling. I am tired of worrying about politician's decisions that I cannot control.
No matter how confident I am beginning to feel about the career choice I have made and will continue to develop, I am feeling incredibly torn between my desire to get as much out of my experience here in Nepal and to connect with family and friends at home. Presently, I am feeling like the rope in tug-of-war, not happy about the isolation I am feeling, but not really sure what to do about it other than to pursue these goals I have set for myself and to take solace in the idea that I will be in the US for three months next fall. This will occur before I return to Nepal for an additional 4 months to see my study come to an end. I understand we all have choices. Sometimes the answers are just hard to find.
So, I offer these thoughts to you as a portal into my mind. After I wrote the above, I encountered two Peace Corps volunteers while I was traveling back to the field. In the 20 minutes that we had together, I discovered that I am not alone in my feelings; they talked about their lives also being difficult and full of challenges. They are prepared to stick it out though for the year they have remaining in this country. I believe that my missive for the next few months will be to find more people like me in this country to whom I can relate and talk about my experiences. That alone would make me feel a lot less solitary.
I hope this email finds you in good health and spirits.
With much love to you all,
Emily
