Things here have been plain ol’ rough lately. I don’t really
have any specific things to complain about I suppose (after all, my sister
Taylor is in Nepal!) but I think I am just very burnt out, with living here,
with eating daal bhat, with sweating my body weight out each day during
monsoon, with avoiding large reptiles…the list goes on. I went to sit on the
floor to do a small workout the other day and a 5 foot long snake came out from
under my couch. IM DONE PEOPLE. I mean, its not really the snakes, or the
spiders, or the heat. I wouldn’t hate it if those things did not exist in my
house, but lets be real, that’s not the hard part of Peace Corps. If it was, PC
would be half the size it is. Unfortunately, a side effect of my “senioritis”
as I like to call it, is that I am getting terribly bad at hiding my mood. I
just cant hide my frustration anymore when a person asks me for the 90th
time if I can take them to America or when literally my ENTIRE village told me
I was fat compared to my sister. I translated this each time for Taylor when
she visited, who was literally in shock that they would say those things. But,
alas, such rude comments as “you are fat” or “why is there a giant pimple on
your face, here let me pick it for you” are not culturally rude here. You would
think after 2 years this wouldn’t matter anymore, but I think tolerance at some
point plateaus. And mine has most definitely plateaued. It would be a mile long
horizontal line on a graph.
Thank the Hindu gods above I am still semi busy with work (closing out my grant, GLOW camp in
2 weeks, painting my Nepal map) but geeeeez oh man if I did not have certain
things to get accomplished each week I would be definitely riding the struggle
bus right about now.
I think actually, if I was to pinpoint when these feelings
really started happening was when my sister came to my village for a night. My host
sister had invited the women’s group over to sing and dance and give a big
welcome celebration for her, which I told her was fantastic. BUT, I mentioned,
if the group expected money to be given, that was not going to happen. They
usually dance/sing as a way to make money. My sister couldn’t afford to donate large
amounts of money to them. I explained she was a student, didn’t have a job, and
had lost her debit card in Kathmandu earlier that week. I thought it was very
clear and apparent that no such donation would be happening and I was assured
this would not be a problem. Well fast forward to the night of the welcome
celebration. Taylor and I had just spent the past half hour getting attacked
with red tikka on our faces aka Simba in the lion king, and were dancing with
all the women. It was great, and I was having a good time. Until I was pulled
aside and asked what I was going to be giving to the womens group. I about lost
my shit. I basically yelled that this donation was in no way shape or form
going to happen because no one had money. I was pissed, to say the least,
feeling that they only wanted to see Taylor because they thought they would get
money out of it. And then I had to go back out and sit next to Taylor and
pretend to be happy inside, except that I was fuming.
The whole experience just completely flipped upside down my
idea of what it means to be integrated into another culture. It broke me a
little inside, if we’re being honest. Just when I thought after 1.5 years
living here that I was a part of the family, a part of the village (as I am so
frequently reminded by a lady: I am their youngest daughter), I get asked for
money. Or rather, my family members get asked for money. It even made me
question the foundations the relationship I had with my host family was based
on. Was I just a way to make money each month? Did they only say they were
excited to see my family and friends because they saw it as a type of income?
These terrible thoughts were running around my head. I re-questioned all
experiences over the past 22 months, wondering…did my family ACTUALLY feel the
way about me that they said they did? Or were their motives purely driven by my
monthly rent/food payments? Talk about shitty. Not something you want to feel
this late into service.
So, anyways, I think since that night I was just so mad and
didn’t even know what to think. Thankfully I left the next day to go be a
tourist in Chitwan with Taylor (will write a whole blog about Taylors visit
later, but all I can say about Chitwan was that it was miserably hot and I felt
like I peed my pants the whole time I was sitting on the elephant..we did see 4
rhinos though). By the time I returned, I was feeling better but still cant
shake the feeling that maybe I was never really a part of this village. I’d
like to say I am, and the majority of me still thinks I am, but that one
comment changed a lot about how I think I am viewed.
That’s about it. I'm keeping my chin up though. Now, I’m going to go watch Game of Thrones
and pretend I live in the snow in Winterfell so I can ignore the fact that I am
sweating all over my freshly cleaned sheets. I’m going to the school tomorrow
to work on the map at 7am and am hoping it will give me some clarity and peace
and I can just not think and listen to music while I am painting. I like the
mornings the best here because its not so hot and people are just getting
started with their days.
