As I write this, a terrific thunderstorm is rolling over Kathmandu. The sound and feel of it brings me back to the night the rains precipitated the landslide which sealed the road into the remote village of Manma.
Well, on the 3rd day after the 'slide, we could hear the sound of horns echoing through the valley - a sure sign that there was movement of vehicles. Drivers blare their horns as they approach hairpin turns on roads barely wide enough for one. The horns had stopped and now resumed, although without the passion or intensity that came with aggressive movement.
With a bit of confidence that we could pass through the blockage, we decided to make our move - so at roughly 6:30 in the morning we packed up and headed down the mountain. It took 2 hours before we reached the obstructed area only to find that movement was at a dead stop. While the obstruction was largely cleared, the traffic on both sides was competing for right of passage. Dozens of tractor-lorries and assorted vehicles jockied for position. As each approached the focal point of the obstruction, the reason for the lack of movement became clear - rocks, combined with water, a naturally tight land formation and growing anxiety from the crowd that loomed eagerly along the rocks created the kind of drama that is legendary on Survivor.
Three hours later, our driver made it through and we began our journey back to the terai region. After 5 hours we had not yet covered 1/10th of the distance we needed to cover by the end of the day in order to catch our flight the next morning back to K-du. Our sense of urgency to get back in one day was exacerbated by the fact that there would be demonstrations in Nepalganj and throughout the Katmandu Valley that would prevent travel by vehicle. These demonstrations will continue until Nepal passes it's long-awaited constitution.
The trip back, much like the trip out was riddled with difficult terrain including heavy dust, mud, river crossings and rock. In the few paved areas it was even more terrifying as the driver felt a need to make up for lost time by accelerating along steep and narrow mountain roads. At one point we rounded a bend to find a bus in the middle of the road and 20 or so of its passengers standing along the road looking into the crevice below. A tractor lorry had gone over with two men on board. Everyone knew they were dead.
Death in Nepal is a fact of life - if you don't die of dysentery, starvation, a road accident, obstructed labor or some not so exotic tropical disease, you are one of the lucky ones. People have come to accept that if they get ill, death is the easy way out. There is a fatalistic attitude among the Nepalis. Your destiny is pre-determined, and there is little you can do to affect it. I hope to learn more about this view as I get to know more about the Nepali people.
So what do people look forward to? A night out? A movie? A local sporting event? Not exactly.
A treat to the Nepalis - especially to the peasants in the countryside might be to add something to their monotonous diet. A typical (and when I say typical, I mean 3x/day) meal for a Nepali peasant is dahl baht - lentils and rice. If fortunate enough to have access to a local butcher - or shepherd who has sacrificed one of his flock for a couple thousand Rupees (~$25US), s/he may be able to add some goat, pig or chicken to his/her dahl baht. In this photo, a man has slaughtered a goat and is now harvesting its remaining delicacies - the head and feet - for sale. The final photo shows two men - on the side of a village road preparing a pig for sale after removing its head.
Well, on the 3rd day after the 'slide, we could hear the sound of horns echoing through the valley - a sure sign that there was movement of vehicles. Drivers blare their horns as they approach hairpin turns on roads barely wide enough for one. The horns had stopped and now resumed, although without the passion or intensity that came with aggressive movement.
With a bit of confidence that we could pass through the blockage, we decided to make our move - so at roughly 6:30 in the morning we packed up and headed down the mountain. It took 2 hours before we reached the obstructed area only to find that movement was at a dead stop. While the obstruction was largely cleared, the traffic on both sides was competing for right of passage. Dozens of tractor-lorries and assorted vehicles jockied for position. As each approached the focal point of the obstruction, the reason for the lack of movement became clear - rocks, combined with water, a naturally tight land formation and growing anxiety from the crowd that loomed eagerly along the rocks created the kind of drama that is legendary on Survivor.
Three hours later, our driver made it through and we began our journey back to the terai region. After 5 hours we had not yet covered 1/10th of the distance we needed to cover by the end of the day in order to catch our flight the next morning back to K-du. Our sense of urgency to get back in one day was exacerbated by the fact that there would be demonstrations in Nepalganj and throughout the Katmandu Valley that would prevent travel by vehicle. These demonstrations will continue until Nepal passes it's long-awaited constitution.The trip back, much like the trip out was riddled with difficult terrain including heavy dust, mud, river crossings and rock. In the few paved areas it was even more terrifying as the driver felt a need to make up for lost time by accelerating along steep and narrow mountain roads. At one point we rounded a bend to find a bus in the middle of the road and 20 or so of its passengers standing along the road looking into the crevice below. A tractor lorry had gone over with two men on board. Everyone knew they were dead.
Death in Nepal is a fact of life - if you don't die of dysentery, starvation, a road accident, obstructed labor or some not so exotic tropical disease, you are one of the lucky ones. People have come to accept that if they get ill, death is the easy way out. There is a fatalistic attitude among the Nepalis. Your destiny is pre-determined, and there is little you can do to affect it. I hope to learn more about this view as I get to know more about the Nepali people.So what do people look forward to? A night out? A movie? A local sporting event? Not exactly.
A treat to the Nepalis - especially to the peasants in the countryside might be to add something to their monotonous diet. A typical (and when I say typical, I mean 3x/day) meal for a Nepali peasant is dahl baht - lentils and rice. If fortunate enough to have access to a local butcher - or shepherd who has sacrificed one of his flock for a couple thousand Rupees (~$25US), s/he may be able to add some goat, pig or chicken to his/her dahl baht. In this photo, a man has slaughtered a goat and is now harvesting its remaining delicacies - the head and feet - for sale. The final photo shows two men - on the side of a village road preparing a pig for sale after removing its head.
While at first shocking, slaughtering animals in a public setting is part of the culture of living in an uncivilized place. So too is living without the luxury of running water, power, Internet, trash pick-up, a sewage system, extensive dinner menu or access to healthcare. Vehicles that lose their footing and tumble off mountain roads are just another part of that very same same culture - you can read about such accidents in the local papers every day. There is little that one can do without a fully accountable government and without people who are willing to take a stand and challenge the status quo. Is it the fatalistic attitude of the people or is it something more? Until they know how to affect change there appears to be little to do but Accept it and Move on.
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